#somehow everyone learns spanish here

[bahrtofane]

Jude misses his spanish class, and that somehow ends with the both of you stuck in a dark elevator, legs tangled and annoying each other till help comes

Word count - 3.5K+ 

Watch it - ur trapped in an elevator with jude, lights go out, you accidentally sock him, fluff tho hehehe

a/n - shout out to my bff best plooki for sending me the last jude pic, its what inspired this whole thing. nmout 3lik kho

—--

Jude is late to spanish class (again) so he's forced to sit for the staff ones instead. his mom will kill him if he misses any more, and his teammates will only tease him more. With the amount of promotional content and youtube videos he has to film soon, he literally doesn’t have the time to skip another class. 

The only open seat is by you in the far corner, so he slides in as discreetly as he can. Which turns out isn’t all that discrete when all eyes are on him from the moment he steps into the room but it’s whatever. He'll live. 

He pulls out his ipad and takes notes like the good student he is and pretends not to notice your gaze on him. He sits like such a teenage boy, legs spread and arms dangling over the table. 

You haven’t been with Madrid all that long, you came along as an intern, eager to find your footing. Having one of the players all up next to you during class was not something you saw coming, you’ve met maybe one or two of them, after you got lost and ended up in the training facilities and they so graciously led the way out of the maze. 

You’ve honestly been so busy with just getting settled you completely forgot the players existed. And here Jude is.

You stick your head back to your notes and hunker down for the hour left of spanish.  You don't miss his stray gazes that land on you. 

-----

Jude is a quiet guy you learn. He chews his bottom lip and blinks a little harshly at times. He's a pretty standard run of the mill guy and you try to treat him as such. He leaves you be, letting you have your space and pays attention to whatever the professor is saying in favor of talking to anyone. 

When class is over you gather your things, slipping out from behind him and head to the elevator. Why the class is on the top floor you have yet to figure out. You like this elevator anyway, it's down the hall from the main big one that everyone crowds into, usually empty. Even though it lacks the big windows that overlook the pitches.

You see Jude jog to the elevator, you slide your hand out ,holding the doors open for him and he smiles at you in thanks, you smile back. It's silent save the hum of the elevator moving down.

Until it screeches to a halt, jolting the both of you so fast you land on the floor, legs tangled, things strewn all over the floor. Jude looks away while he picks himself up, helping track down your pens that roll across the floor. When you smooth your clothes down and find your footing, another jolt rocks the small metal box you're in. 

Jude instinctively reaches out to steady himself, his hand landing on the railing beside you. You lurch forward and almost land right on him again. But you manage to keep your composure, and footing. Thank god. 

"What in the world?" Jude asks, brows furrowing. 

"I... I'm not sure," you reply, your heart still racing from the amusement park ride you never signed up for. Does Madrid not keep their elevators up to date on what is going on. 

You both glance around the elevator, trying to assess the situation, and half waiting for another lurch. It's eerily quiet, and you notice the emergency button panel is dimly lit.

"Should we... press the emergency button?" you suggest tentatively, eyeing the panel.

"Probably our best bet" Jude agrees, reaching out to press the button. After a moment, a crackly voice comes through the intercom, 

"Hello? Is someone in need of assistance?" a nasally voice comes to life. She sounds like your aunt kinda.

"Yeah, the elevator stopped suddenly, and we're not sure what's going on," Jude explains.

“Ah okay, which elevator? There should be a number and letter over the doors.”

“2C.” you real aloud.

"Perfect thank you. We’ll have people get to you as soon as we can. Please remain calm and stay where you are," the voice responds before the intercom falls silent again.

You exchange a look with Jude, both of you silently hoping that help arrives soon. The minutes tick by slowly, and the silence in the elevator becomes almost suffocating.

"So... Do you have any plans for after this?" Jude asks, breaking the silence. Even if its a little awkward.

You shake your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not really. Just some studying, I guess. What about you?"

Jude shrugs. "Probably just head back to my place if they don't need me. Training was pretty intense this morning."

You nod, "Sounds hectic."

"Yeah, it can be," Jude admits, scratching the back of his neck. "But it comes with the territory, I guess.

You fall into a silence again, playing with the hem of your shirt. Jude tucks his ipad under his arm and sighs deeply. Now that you take a good look at him, it looks like he booked it right from training. Slides and socks on, madrid shirt and shorts. Interesting. 

You move to push the button again after what feels like ages, but this time the voice doesn't answer. 

“What the..” you mumble. You reach for your phone but as luck would have it there is no connection. 

Jude slides to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and trying his luck on his phone. 

“No signal either huh.” he grumbles.

“Nope, we really just have to wait on them then.” 

“I hope they hurry it up, no offense.”

You shrug, ”none taken.” sliding to take a seat on the floor opposite to him. 

Little do you know you're about to spend the next 4 hours in this elevator together. 

—-

It turns out there is only so much small talk you can make in an hour with a total stranger. Trust, you know. 

After telling your life story, and him his, you’ve both run out of things to say. So you sit, drumming against the metal walls, taking turns pressing the help button and being greeted with the sweet sound of silence each time.

“What the actual hell are they doing.” Jude groans.

“Ignoring us.” 

You just might lose your mind. Your legs are starting to go numb, and you watch Jude  grow more agitated as time presses on. Thankfully there's been no more lurches downward, a win is a win. You get up periodically to stretch your legs out, checking your phone, reorganizing your bag, playing rock paper scissors, telling each other stories.

Jude is a silly guy, very competitive even after your 10th round of tic tac toe. 

“I win again.” He cackles. 

You wave him off, “Yeah yeah it’s just luck.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he smiles. 

He goes back to the red button, and once again there’s no answer. You’re half way to losing your mind. How do they just forget about you here? You try texting people, and nothing goes through. Jude walks around the little space, arm raised and pointing his phone up in hopes of catching a signal. 

“Oh wait I think- never mind. Not even one bar will hold in here.” He slumps back down against the wall. 

“I actually can’t believe they’re not answering.” You groan, head in your hands. 

“Me neither. “

You resort to looking through your phone for any games to pass the time. But you need a signal for just about all of them. Might as well clear out your photos right? Jude joins, scooting next to you.

“Don't mind if I watch?”

You shake you head, “nah, just getting rid of old pictures.”

He nods.

Now you just have to be triple careful of not accidentally swiping through any embarrassing pictures. You don't thankfully, instead your room back home pops up, after you redecorated it. Zidane jersey hanging off your wall.

Jude perks up at this, “Zidane fan?” 

“Very big one.”

He smiles, “me too.”

“I've heard. What's he like?”

“Zidane? Hm, he's well, elegant. Classy. He's a calm guy.”

You nod, tucking your phone back inside your pocket, turning to face him, “have you seen him play in a charity match with ronaldo?”

He laughs ,”yeah the one with that insane title, fat old ronaldo does hat trick.”

You giggle, “that's the one.”

He hums, leaning his head back on the wall and you fall into silence again. 

More time passes and you don’t think you have it in you to reorganize your bag for another time. 

“I have an idea.” you declare as you move into the second hour.

Jude raises a brow.

“Might as well do our Spanish homework right?”

“I might die.” he dead pans.

You roll your eyes, “its better than doing nothing.”

“Nu uh, no way. I choose nothing.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug.

10 minutes later Jude sits down next to, pulling his ipad out and getting to work. You smile, “see, I told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, “can you help me on number 4?”

You do, leaning against him and walking him through the conjugation of each word, your fingers brush against the iPad screen and you hope he doesn't notice how you blush. 

Hours in an elevator with Jude bellingham what is this a bad fanfic plot?

You end up finish the pages of homework side by side and Jude smiles

“That wasn't half bad actually, thanks for the help.”

“No problem. We make a pretty good team huh?” you tease.

He snorts, “I guess so.”

It turns out Jude is really bad at staying in once place, he does anything but keep still, throwing his slides at the buttons periodically, and one even hits the help button, this time the voice answers. 

“Hello?” it's a completely different voice his time, male. 

“Thank god hello.” Jude scrambles to get up properly, and you follow suit, leaning closer to the little speaker. 

“I'm sorry?”

“We've been in this elevator for what, 2 hours now and no ones been answering the call button? Fucking ridiculous.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, we've been short staffed and I clocked in a few minutes ago.”

“For fucks sake, thats great and all but can you get us out?”

There's a pause, and for a second you think they're going to hang up and there will be no hope. You will die in this elevator. 

Luckily for you the voice comes to life again, “would you like us to call the fire department?”

“What do you think?” Jude dead pans.

“We will keep you updated, but for now it's looking like a wait time of 45 minutes to an hour. “

Both of you groan, dramatically falling to the floor.

“You'd think Madrid would have better staffing,” he rubs his eyes.

“You think.” you agree. 

“Im so gonna complain about this.” he squints his eyes at the buttons, almost like he's threatening them.

“Hey it could be worse, you could have missed a game.”

“Very true.”

He chews his lip before turning to you, a glint in his eyes, “Wanna play hot hands?” he tries.

“Sure why not.”

You shuffle so you're facing him once again, You're up first, palms up while Jude hovers his hands palm down over yours, and wow are his hands huge, completely covering your own. The name of the game is to manage to slap his hands faster than he can move them away. 

And so it begins. 

Unsurprisingly, Jude has keen reflexes, and you only shake your head at him. 

“I'm at an unfair disadvantage, whereas VAR.”

He giggles, “VAR or no var, you're losing,” he shrugs.

It's just enough of a distraction to get you your first win.

“Lets gooo.” you celebrate. 

“VAR immediately, time wasting, yellow card, red card, extra time.”

You smile, “you're just mad I won.”

“Yeah you won unfairly. “He sulks.

“Yeah yeah, your turn.”

He sighs dramatically, but puts his palms up regardless. 

You're too focused on his hands, skittering at any movement, so much so you end up jumping and throwing your hands out so fast you slap him. Uh oh.

“Oh my god i'm so sorry, are you okay.” you reach out and cradle his face, a little red but nothing too bad thank god. You almost took out Madrid's star boy, you're just an intern, you do NOT have the money to fund any legal cases. 

You don't even notice he's laughing, giggles bursting from his lips while you watch on. His eyes are big, oh my god, he's got those big brown beautiful eyes. People weren't kidding. He's even more handsome in person. You want to kiss him. Oh yeah you're holding his face, you drop your hands away and roll your eyes, trying to play off the blush that's spanning your face. 

“I'm fine, don't worry. You got a mean arm, ever think of being a goalie?” he teases. 

“I'm going to be Barcas goalie. How about that.” you shoot back, though there's no real bite to your words. 

He only laughs harder, “hot hands really makes you competitive huh.”

“It wasn't my fault okay, you moved too fast.” 

He only shakes his head, “I think you're the sore loser.”

“No but seriously, are you good?” 

He waves you off, “nah i'm good seriously, you're fine.”

You sigh in relief. 

He snorts, “no more hot hands for you.”

You squint at him, “I'm going to sleep.”

You make a pillow out of your bag and try to nap. Might as well at this point. Jude seems to share a similar idea as he lays down opposite to you, tucking his arms under him and screwing his eyes shut.

It turns out sleeping on the floor on an elevator is extremely uncomfortable, and you get about 5 minutes of shut eye before Jude somehow has his legs rolled into yours.

“ ‘M Sorry,” he mumbles. But you don't say anything, wiggling your feet back under his and trying to get some shut eye. 

—--

At the turning of the third hour you get woken up by the crackle of the magic voice in the wall, “the wait is up about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“What's taking so long,” you huff, eyes still blurry from your sleep.

“We apologize for the delay but there's a back up in call logs and-”

“Yeah we get it you're understaffed whatever. Just please hurry up.” Jude bites back, nearing closer and closer to you. 

The voice fizzles away and the sleep has worn off you, enough so to realize he's almost spooning you. You sit up, but Jude remains as he is, breathing soundly as he uses his hands to cover the harsh elevator lights that beat down on him. You're surprised the lights haven't- 

You spoke too soon. Way way too soon. The lights go out within an instant and you almost scream, jolting against Jude.

This stirs him awake again, and he's oh so confused at the lack of lights. The secondary elevators are great, but there are no windows. Just solid metal on all ends. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness. 

“Jude?’ 

You hear shuffling, “Yeah, I'm right here don't worry. “

“This is kinda freaky now.” you trail off.

“Hey, we'll be fine. Look on the bright side, it's easier to sleep.”

You snort, “Yeah guess so,” But the ease doesn't wear off of you. 

“Here,” you feel Jude’s hands reach for yours. Feeling for them in the darkness till they're laced together. “Now it's not so bad right?”

You can feel your face heat up,“Not bad at all.”

“How sick would hot hands in the dark be? Just think-”

“Absolutely not.” you sigh.

He giggles again, teasing you is surprisingly very very fun for him. This is the most fun he's had all day. Every time you turn away while you blush only fuels him to tease you more. Out of all the people to be stuck in here with, he thinks he got pretty lucky with it being you. 

But as sweet as you are, the situation only seems to get worse. He uses his free hand to feel for the button again, and the voice comes back.

“The lights just went off. I hope they're on their way.“ Jude speaks.

“The wait is about an hour.” the speaker says.

“My fucking god.” he sighs. 

“Were supposed to wait in the dark, for an hour?” you can't believe it.

The voice mumbles another apology and Jude only tells them to go away if they’re going to be completely and utterly useless. And alone you two go. 

—-

You start singing by the fourth hour. You're completely tangled in Jude’s legs, unable to even see what's in front of you in the pitch black darkness, but you can feel him. And it keeps you grounded, keeps away the panic. He pats your back while he sings stupid songs, trying to cheer you up and mind off of the situation as much as he can. The teasing doesn't stop, and you're starting to like it. (You liked it from the beginning).

If someone told you you'd be cuddling Jude Bellingham on the floor of an elevator in the darkness after class, you're pretty sure you'd call the nearest psych ward. But here you are. You think you’re sitting sideways on his lap, while he sits back to the wall, your arms tangled. You've started to trace shapes on his arms.

Who knew an elevator would be the perfect place to bond.

“You smell nice.” Jude mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You hum,” thank you.”

“You know, this is pretty nice. You're a good cuddler.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. my rooms a better spot though.”

You try not to freeze up too much, but you're sure he can feel you go rigid next to him.

“I bet it is,” you mumble into his shoulder 

He laughs, easy and light, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“You cant even see me it's literally pitch black in here.”

“So?” 

“You're silly Jude.”

“So i've been told”

You get comfy again, sliding a hand to his back and scratching lightly. 

He melts within an instant, “that actually feels really nice…” he trails off, leaning against your shoulder. 

“You’re like an overgrown puppy, “ you laugh. 

He only snorts, leaning forward to allow you better access to his back.

—--

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the voice comes to life, and Jude is not in the mood. 

“What is it?” 

“The wait is now 10 to 15 minutes, please step back from the doors and do not be alarmed when the fire department needs to possibly force the doors open.”

“Finally.” You sigh, squishing your face into his neck. 

“Finally.” He confirms. 

After a few minutes. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the elevator and voices chattering. 

“Alright guys, sit tight, should be a few minutes and you’ll be outta here.” A voice says on the other end. 

“Alright.” Jude replies, gently getting up and separating from you. 

“We’re gonna need you guys to step back.”

You do as much, trying to feel for your bag to kick it away from the door. 

Jude rests a hand on your hip and you smile, even if you can't see it you bet he's doing the same. 

The doors are manually pried open, and you're greeted by the sweet sweet faces of firemen and security. 

"Are you two okay?" the fireman asks, helping you both out of the elevator.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just glad to be out of there," you say with a sigh of relief.

As you step out into the hallway, you and Jude exchange grateful smiles. Unsurprisingly people crowd to him and make sure he's all good. He waves them off instead pointing them in your direction. You insist you're all good, no injuries. After thanking everyone you slip away and begin walking down the hall. After all, you don't expect him to actually mean anything there. You just got stuck together for a while, and got comfortable. That's all.

You think this is the 4th floor? Down the stairs you go. 

The man is full of surprises. He catches up to you, shouting your name and closing the door to the stairs behind him.

“Had enough of me?” 

“Eh four hours seems like enough.” you shrug. 

He rolls his eyes, “so you don't give me your number then if i ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely. And I don't even have a Spanish number yet, I'll have to get yours.” 

(you want his number sooo bad you might explode, this can't be real.)

“Would you like to get my number then?” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy, ‘only if you want you know you don't have to just because the whole elevator thing i mean-”

You cut him off with a kiss to the check, “I'd love to get your number Jude. And thanks for being so nice in there.” 

He looks to the ground, playing with his hands, “yeah anytime.” 

You hand him your phone and he takes a contact picture right there, with the most obnoxious contact name to match. 

‘the best elevator buddy Jude <3’

You smile, “I'll text you when I can, yeah?”

He hums, waving you off, slipping the door open with his foot and setting off in the opposite direction. What a day huh?

[woso-soso]

Missing Puzzle Piece Pt.1

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: Mapi and you have been together for years, what will happen when a new person makes an appearance in your lives.

Word Count: 3,639

Part 2

Any time words are Italicized it indicates another language being spoken, in the case of this story it will indicate Spanish is spoken.

You’d known María for years, having met when you were barely big enough to ride the fair rides that came into town every year. Meeting at a volleyball camp held at your town's community center, and while María thrived at it you found yourself cowering in the back. Shrinking further into yourself as you struggled to integrate into the game, finding yourself more so on the end of flying balls. Balls you weren't prepared to hit back, leading to more than one frustrated groan from the team you had been forced onto. By the time lunch had come around you were left to sit alone at one of the tables set up, that was until a wild haired girl came bounding over. A smile wide across her face as she sets her lunch down at the seat across from you. You hadn’t caught her name at introductions, having been more focused on not puking on your shoes than learning anyone's names.

“I’m María,” she said, her mouth full of food. “But everyone except my mama calls me Mapi.” 

You stare at the strange girl in front of you, her arms covered in doodles. Many of them being extremely detailed, maybe the two of you would have something to talk about after all. “I’m Y/N,” you whisper hoping the much louder girl will be able to hear you. 

“So why are you here Y/N, I mean not to be rude but like you seem to hate it,” Mapi remarks not looking up from the food in front of her as she continues to shovel it into her mouth at a speed that was honestly impressive. 

“My papa, he got the dates mixed up when registering. I was supposed to be at the art camp next week but now I’m stuck here instead.” You answer somberly. Your papa was doing his best, becoming a single parent suddenly hadn’t been the plan and the two of you took it in stride together. Even when he did mess up, at least he was trying. 

“So you like art,” Mapi’s interest piques as she finally slows down to look up at you. You nod softly as you pick at the simple sandwich in front of you. Something you had thrown together that morning because your papa had forgotten to pack lunch the night before. “What do you like to do?”

“Well, I like drawing. My papa just got me a ton of new pencils to try. But I also really like taking pictures. I have this film camera at home, papa says when it's full we can send it off to get them developed. Apparently it's a long process.” The camera had been something your therapist had suggested, she thought it would benefit your dad to see what piques your interest. Helping get inside your mind since getting you to talk was a challenge. “Do you like drawing,” you inquire hesitantly, looking again at the intricate doodles that covered Mapi’s arms. 

“I love drawing, my mama says I get ink everywhere but I like drawing on my arms. At least then I get to see them all the time.” Mapi’s answer intrigues you. You could see the cap of a ballpoint pen stick out the top of her shirt having been clipped inside to attempt to conceal it. 

“I like that,” you state, a soft smile crossing your face as you look Mapi in the eyes. Her own large smile somehow getting larger. 

“Come here,” Mapi says suddenly, “would you like some drawings of your own.” You nod cautiously, moving around the table to sit next to the taller girl. Wiping her hands on her shorts before grabbing the ballpoint pen. “Here, stretch out your arm,” her hand gently takes your forearm, extending it across the table so it lays flat palm up. The pen tickles, but quickly you grow used to it. Mapi works slowly, making small marks across your arm as you relax into the feeling. 

The rest of the day is less anxiety-inducing as you switch over to the same team as Mapi, her presence not only calming but protective as you were able to hide behind her. Avoiding any more unwanted contact with volleyballs. When your papa comes to get you you can see him eyeing the ink marks across your skin, a relieved smile crossing his face as he watches you wave to Mapi her matching ink marks clear on her skin. 

“So did you make a friend today?” He questions cautiously. 

“I think I did papa,” a bright smile appearing on your face for the first time in a long time. 

“You got in!,” Mapi shouts gleefully, her arms wrapping around your body. The letter grasped tightly in your hand as happy tears trail down your cheeks. 

After meeting Mapi the two of you quickly became tightly bonded. Spending many evenings camped out in each other's bedrooms exploring different art mediums, a football game usually playing in the background as you talked softly. Mapi had always encouraged your photography, she insisted that while you were one for few words your photos always told a story. It was because of her that you got up the courage to apply to art school, the same art school Mapi had gotten into and while she chose to focus on football and not attend you knew it was still the best place for you. 

“I did it, I can’t believe I did it,” you mumble into her shoulder. Your tears leaving a damp spot on her shoulder. 

“I knew you could do it, your mama would be so proud,” Mapi whispers softly, her hand stroking your hair. A new wave of tears starting at the thought of your mama. She had been gone for so long yet it felt like just yesterday she had been showing you her own camera, a camera locked up safely in the attic. 

You pull away from Mapi’s warm embrace slowly, your arms staying connected around her neck. Your stomach twisting as you stare into her eyes, you knew you had feelings for her. It would almost be weirder if you didn’t, the two of you had been inseparable since you were small. You had been there for her through hundreds of football games where she dominated over the boys and she had been there for you while you displayed your photographs at various school events. She knew you front and back, like a book she had read a million times and you knew her the same. Before you can even think about what you're doing you lean in, Mapi making no move to pull away as your lips connect. 

Mapis lips are slightly chapped, yet taste like strawberry as if she had just applied chapstick. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer as the kiss becomes more frantic. The pent up attraction between the two of you coming out full force. The sound of your front door closing being the only thing to snap the two of you apart. Your face most certainly flushed bright red as you stare at the carpeted floor under your feet. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, quickly wiping your face clean of any chapstick. The strawberry scent lingering. 

“Why?” Mapi asks quietly, leaning back on your bed. Watching you as your brain races a mile a minute. 

“I shouldn’t have just jumped you like that, I just… I assumed things and I’m sure they aren’t correct,” your voice cracks as you try to keep from crying. Embarrassment is clear on your face with your blazing red cheeks. 

“How do you know,” Mapi asks. 

“How do I know? Because come on Mapi look at you and look at me, it's silly to think we could be anything more than friends.” You mumble.

“Well firstly, best friends. Secondly, what do you mean look at you? You are the most amazing person I know, I’m honored you like me that way. I’ve liked you for a long time now, I just never had the courage to say anything.” The two of you sit in silence for a moment, Mapi’s words hanging in the air. 

“Really?” You whisper, turning to look at her. 

“Really,” Mapi says, her hand taking yours. 

The two of you are practically inseparable after that, wherever Mapi goes you are sure to follow. For years you worked at small photography studios, focusing on simple family portraits, weddings, and other parties. But by chance there was a day you got asked at the last minute to photograph Atlético Madrid's game against Real Sociedad. Atlético’s regular photographer had fallen ill and of course Mapi took this as a chance to throw your name out there. Sure some of her teammates were aware of your relationship but that didn’t seem to be a hindrance as you trekked out to the sidelines of the pitch, camera and monopod in hand. The game goes well, except for the occasional stray ball you stay safely tucked away capturing the high emotions of the game. 

“Did you get my good side,” Mapi jokes as she approaches, her cheeks flushed from having just finished a full ninety minute game. 

“Now when did you develop a bad side?” Your eyebrows raise in question as you continue to pack up your gear, preparing for a long night at home editing.

“Just checking, just checking” Mapi smirks, hands raised in surrender as she turns to take off back towards her teammates. 

While that night is long. You curled up on the couch as Mapi’s head rests in your lap, her soft snores reminding you how late it was, your hand gently combing through her hair as you edit the lot of photos you had taken. Only finishing as the sun begins to rise, a nagging headache forming behind your eyes as you close your laptop. 

“Come on love, let's go sleep properly,” you grunt as you nudge Mapi off your lap. 

“What time is it?” Mapi groans as you drag her to her feet. Her eyes barely opening enough to see her surroundings. 

“It's either very late or very early, let's not think about it.” You say as you push her into bed, joining her on the other side. Burying yourself under the covers, hoping for at least some restful sleep. 

What you hadn’t expected to come from the game was a permanent job offer from Atlético. They insisted they needed a photography assistant and that if you wanted it you were more than welcome to have it. It wasn’t something you even need to consider, quickly accepting the offer on the table. In the three years you were with Atlético you learned as much as you could, following the lead photographer like a shadow. Getting to know the coaches and players, learning where to draw boundaries with Mapi, you may be together but you weren’t about to risk either of your jobs because of it. 

That's what made it so hard to leave, when Barcalona came knocking at Mapi’s door it would have been stupid to say no. But the dread of having to start over in a new city made you nervous. You were already away from home most of the time, only seeing your papa a few times a year. You had finally established a career in Madrid, but at the same time you knew you couldn’t be away from Mapi. The two of you moved in tandem for a reason, you were two pieces to the same puzzle. You would rather put your career on hold to be there for her then be in Madrid, alone. 

Things fall into place easily in Barcelona, a job as an editing assistant for the men's team opens up only a few weeks after you move in with Mapi. Sure it wasn’t where your passion lied but it was something. 

“How are you settling in my love,” Mapi asks one morning as the two of you laid together in bed, the sun leaking in through the slightly open curtains. Her hand tracing shapes along your spine. 

“It’s okay, I wish I was with the women's team but it's okay, it's a start.” You knew deep down your only actual chance to work with the women's team would be if someone leaves, and who would leave working for the most successful team in the league. 

“It will happen one day, they will see just how talented you are and they won't be able to deny you the  job you want.” You appreciated Mapi’s optimism, she had always been your biggest cheerleader. Reassuring you throughout the years as the two of you grew and changed with one another. 

“Thank you my love, we can hope, but let's not get them too high.” You whisper softly, tracing the tattoos that cover Mapis arms only stopping once your alarm interrupts your morning peace. 

The two of you go your separate ways when you hit the gate at work, her slipping off to practice as you make your way down the never ending hallways. Passing offices of people important enough to have actual doors, eventually settling into your small cubical towards the back of the room. A place you can tuck yourself into and hide from the rest of the office. 

This continues for years, Mapi and you continent in your relationship never really sharing it with others outside of your family and friends. Your social media staying very much private, especially as you start to get more attention from fans of the team for the photographs you take, having been promoted to the men's team head photographer. You were happy, sure you had hopes and dreams you were still working towards but you found yourself fond of the simple everyday routine that you and Mapi had formed. 

That was until you literally ran into a goddess. 

The tall dark haired beauty had exited the main conference room right as you were passing, not a chance for either of you to stop as you collided. The box of hard drives crashing to the ground as she grabs your arm to stabilize you. 

“I’m so sorry,” the brunette says quickly, a thick accent making it challenging for you to understand. Your limited understanding of English not aiding in the matter. 

“It.. is.. okay,” you stammer out, hoping you said something okay. The soft smile on the woman's face giving you some reassurance that you had. 

“I’m Ingrid, I just signed on with the women's team.” The woman you now know as Ingirid declares, her hand extended towards you. Your mind going blank as you gently take her hand. 

“I am Y/N,” you say with less confidence than her. 

“Well, it's very nice to meet you Y/N.” Ingrid declares, dropping your hand to bend down and retrieve the box you had dropped. Thankfully none of the hard drives had fallen out. 

And with that she was gone, your mind racing at warped speed. The tingle on your skin from where she had been holding your arm reminding you of the feelings that had coursed through you. A sudden wave of nausea washing over you as Mapi popped into your mind, your fun, sweet, goofy Mapi. How you could even think of another woman, one you don’t even know, one who will have to work with your LONGTIME partner. This sudden feeling of guilt settling into your stomach. 

You avoid the topic with Mapi for the next few days, a weird silence falling over your shared apartment any time work is brought into the conversation. You know she can tell something is wrong, you can feel her watching you as you try to keep yourself distracted in the apartment. Being barely able to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time this sudden influx of anxiety being clear as day to anyone who knows you. 

It isn’t until one late night when you get home from traveling with the mens team that you and Mapi finally talk. She had stayed up late, catching you as you snuck in the front door.

“Please, my love, come talk to me. Somethings wrong, I can tell.” Mapi’s words make your heart ache, looking into her eyes you see someone who so desperately wants you to open up. Something that you had never seen before, up until now you and Mapi had never had issues communicating. Communication was actually one of the things the two of you pride yourselves on, something many of your friends were actually stunned by when they first learned how open the two of you are. 

You take your time to drop your bags, sliding your shoes off as you close the door behind you. The pit of anxiety growing more into a black hole. Sitting down next to Mapi on the sofa, not daring to look at her. The two of you sitting in silence for what felt like hours, Mapi’s hand gently grasping yours. 

“What is going on in your mind my love,” Mapi whispers softly as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I… I um, I met one of your new teammates last week.” You swallow, tears pricking at your eyes as guilt eats away at you. “She bumped into me in the main offices,” you whisper looking over at Mapi as she watches you intensely. 

“Did she do something to you?” Mapi asks, a hint of urgency in her tone. 

“Nothing bad I promise, she probably doesn’t even remember meeting me. But… when she held my arm to keep me from falling I got this feeling.” You turn away from Mapi again, not wanting to see the look on her face. “And I hate this feeling, it's a feeling I’m only supposed to have with you, yet my skin burned where she held it. I feel like I’m betraying you even though I haven’t done anything.” 

You don’t dare look at Mapi, her hand hasn't left yours and she never shifts further away from you. But this feeling of guilt settles in your stomach, the fear that she will be angry at you for your unwanted thoughts lingers in the back of your mind. 

“Who was it?” Mapi asks after a few long moments. 

“What?” The shock is evident in your voice as you snap your head to look at her. Having expected anger, not curiosity. 

“What is her name? Who is it?” She asks again, meeting your eyes, a soft squeeze of your hand reassuring you. 

“She said her name is Ingrid. I think she just signed on with the team.” Sharing the only information you had. 

Mapi takes a moment to process what you had said, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks as she takes you in. “It’s okay,” she reassures after a moment. “I am guilty of the same,” Mapis' words shocking you. 

“What?” You hiccup. 

“I have had the same feelings you have had for her, I’ve been struggling with them to my love. She is… enticing to put it simply. I don’t blame you for feeling this way about her.” Mapi’s words both alarm you and reassure you. You had felt some security in knowing that while you held these feelings there was no way you were going to interact with Ingrid again. But knowing that Mapi also held those feelings, for someone she is seeing everyday, traveling with, showering with. A sudden wave of fresh tears form in your eyes. 

“You… you like her too. Were you ever going to tell me?” You ask suddenly, pulling your hand away from hers.  

“Of course I was, it's not like I would ever dream of acting on those feelings. I was worried about you. You’ve been acting off.” Mapi defends. 

“I’ve been acting off because I find this person attractive, the same person you apparently find attractive. A person you will be spending time with, alone.” A tone that isn’t anger but more so anxiety present in your voice. 

“I’m not going to ever act on it, I love you, that isn’t changing.” Mapi insist. 

“But what if you eventually find you are loving her? She seems charming, pretty. What do I have to compete.” 

“You aren’t competing my love, there is no competition.” Mapi’s words hang in the air as you process all that has been shared. 

But what if you want to share? The thought of Ingrid making your heart flutter, not in the way Mapi makes it flutter but in a way that feels like she completed the puzzle the two of you were pieces in. Your love for Mapi hadn’t changed, it had only grown over the years, but the thought of Ingrid felt like your heart was whole. 

“What would you think if I thought dating Ingrid would be appealing, if I thought she would fit in well with us?” You ask hesitantly. 

“Are you asking if I would want to open our relationship?” Mapi asks. 

“Not open, it wouldn’t just be anyone. Just Ingrid.” You respond, watching Mapi out of the corner of your eye. 

“I… I wouldn’t be opposed, not if she would be okay with it. She would have to want both of us, I’m not losing you because of someone else.” Mapi whispers. 

“I don’t think you would have to ever worry about losing me.” You say softly as you place a gentle kiss on Mapi's cheek. “Let's think of it this way, if Ingrid shows any interest we consider it. But we will not tarnish us by seeking it out, okay?” 

“I’m okay with that,” Mapi agrees, her arms wrapping around you tightly as the two of you sink back into the couch. A million thoughts racing through your mind as everything that has happened catches up to you.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Can I request something really fluffy Chaggie x female reader? I love them and refuse to separate them.

Yes yes yes! I love them and I love you too anon. Lovely idea, I love me some poly lesbians from hell ❤️‍🔥 thanks for requesting! Just an update for yall: still at like 40 reqs bc every time I post one, I get at least one new one to replace it 😮‍💨 so thanks for being patient! And as always, enjoy~

Notes: implied fem!reader, sorry this is short :(

TW: none really, just a lot of fluff

Chaggie x fem!reader ❤️🖤💜

Literally the devil and the angel on your shoulders…😈😇

And they often swap roles- sometimes Charlie is the angel offering wise advice while Vaggie is the devil telling you to just go crazy. Other times, Charlie is the devil talking you into doing ridiculous shit while Vaggie tries to hold you back and talk some sense into you,

What can I say, they’re both switches 😉

You really are in a great polyamorous relationship with these two tho, so full of trust and communication. It’s quite easy actually

You have two girls who love each other and you so deeply that there’s never even any talk about boundaries- you do things as a unit, as a team and somehow, you guys bond so well and rarely bicker

Charlie is always the one to lift your spirits and cheer you on and support your dreams all the way and baby you whether you win or lose.

Vaggie is always the one to bail you out of tough situations and comfort you when things don’t go right and offer you really really great advice and words of affirmation.

Bruh, they’re just so so sweet

SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED ALL TOGETHER EVERY SINGLE NIGHT AHH 💗

Vaggie definitely has to be on one of the edges of the bed, Charlie totally doesn’t mind being on the edge or in the middle so you can choose where you want to be!

They both love to cuddle and they don’t care what position, as long as everyone is included. You wanna be the big spoon? Cool. You wanna be in the middle? Go for it! Wanna lay over both their laps? Do it!

BEWARE: Charlie talks in her sleep and Vaggie occasionally kicks and flails when she has bad dreams lol

You and Charlie definitely stay up until like 4 am some nights, laughing and snacking and watching silly videos online and keeping Vaggie up 😋

Vaggie likes to teach you and Charlie how to defend yourselves- idk I feel like Vaggie would work out often, like at least some yoga in the morning and then like practice sparring ya know? So she likes to spend time with her girls while play fighting and learning together

They’re both very protective of you- they’ve seen a lot of shit down here, Vaggie has seen how tough it can be to be in heaven too.

Walking down the streets of hell, you’ll have Charlie holding your hand or linking arms with you just to keep you close and keep the other sinners away.

Vaggie is your scary guard dog following right behind you two as she looks back and forth, glaring at any sinners who look at you guys for too long.

Often times, they turn to you for advice and comfort too.

Charlie comes crying to you and Vaggie when she’s dwelling in the thought of her mom

Vaggie comes stomping up to you and Charlie, ranting and cussing in Spanish about Alastor pissing her off.

It’s just all very happy and cute and loving and supportive and open.

Never any fights

Only kisses and cuddles and play fights

Very sweet sapphic vibes all around

[octuscle]

Catalan internship

Michael was overjoyed. He would never have dreamed that he would be accepted as an intern at the renowned architecture firm in Barcelona. Normally, world-class offices only accepted seniors as interns. And Michael was a sophomore. And he barely spoke a word of Spanish. To be honest, he had lied a bit on his CV. But the internship didn't start for another three months. Until then, he would learn Spanish and learn so much that it wouldn't even be noticeable that he had only just started his studies.

When he was on the plane to Barcelona three months later, Michael didn't speak a word of Spanish and had gained a lot of experience in frat house parties over the past few weeks. The internship was going to be a debacle… And indeed, he didn't understand a word on his first day. And even if he had spoken the language, he would have had no idea what they wanted him to do. Michael cursed the decision to apply for this position. He was only happy when he was finally in the office. He googled "Spanish now". A list of language schools and language apps came up… Boring stuff… That didn't help him now either… And then, already on page 2, came "Become Spanish in just a few moments". Chronivac… Never heard of it… "In-app purchases possible." Never mind, Michael had his dad's credit card….

"Spanish architecture student in his final year". That was all the effort Michael put into his prompt. That was enough work for today. Michael spent the rest of the day looking for trendy bars for tonight.

Miguel wasn't overly punctual when he came into the office the next day. Why the hell didn't he understand anyone here? The language sounded like a gibberish of Spanish, French and a few more languages. Fortunately, everyone here actually understood Spanish. And for a reason Miguel couldn't quite explain to himself, Miguel spoke fluent English. This made it easier to flirt with the other interns from Germany, Poland and the USA. Unfortunately, Miguel quickly realized that everyone else here was far superior to him professionally. Despite his advanced studies, Miguel was a complete layman compared to his colleagues when it came to creativity, structural engineering and building technology.

"A young Spanish architect". And "Enter".

Miguel hated his small apartment in the suburb of Barcelona. He designed the most beautiful houses, the most spectacular skyscrapers. And he lived in this shoebox. Okay, to be fair, Miguel didn't actually design anything. Miguel drew staircases. Staircases for the most beautiful houses, the most spectacular skyscrapers. Buildings that someone else in the office had designed. One of the big bosses who were in the limelight, who were celebrated in the press. The stars of the Catalan architecture scene. Miguel could puke. In itself, he could have been satisfied. He wasn't earning too badly. He was a good-looking man. But he spent ten to twelve hours a day in the office. He had never seen one of his construction sites. He left his home at 06:00, he came home at 19:00 or not until 20:00. Sport? Going out? Meeting friends? He was already happy if he managed to finish a ready meal in the microwave. Didn't he have this app? He felt like he had last used it years ago. "One of the big boys in the office," he wrote. Tomorrow he wanted to be one of the bosses.

As a Spaniard, Miguel was used to having to earn respect. The cursed Catalans always thought they were better than everyone else. That was one of the reasons why Miguel almost lived in the gym. Sleep, gym, office, gym, sleep, gym… Getting his muscles to burn was more important to him than being successful here in the office. And with the muscles, success somehow came automatically. In meetings, he was always looked at when a question was open. Miguel knew that he wasn't actually the most talented architect in the office. But thanks to his impressive physique, he had managed to carve out a reasonably decent career. He earned good money, he had a summer house in Mallorca, he fucked the interns. And he was sometimes allowed to suck off one of the gods, the bosses of the office. No more. No less. His career had come to a natural end. He was just 42 years old. Damn it, it had to go on somehow. But as a Spaniard in Catalonia? Not a chance! He searched for this app… What was it called again? Chronivac. What should he enter as a prompt…? "My own master. And Catalan"

Miquel got up at 05:00 and immediately started lifting weights in his carpentry workshop. As a self-employed man, he didn't have a minute to lose. His apprentice and his two fellow carpenters arrived between 06:00 and 06:30. Most of his neighbors could set the clock so that the circular saw would start howling at 06:30. This did not necessarily make Miquel and his workshop popular. But his father and grandfather had already built cupboards and tables here for the neighborhood. The family had made a small fortune. And Miquel was a celebrity in his neighborhood. They called him "the Catalonian Arnold". And indeed, he was not much less imposing than his great role model. When customers came to his workshop, he always went out of his way to flex his muscles. Many of his customers attached great importance to him personally installing the furniture. And it was not uncommon for customers to have the air conditioning turned off. No matter. As a rule, he worked bare-chested whenever possible anyway.

Miquel was a good craftsman and not a bad self-promoter. But as a businessman, he was a failure. His accounts were constantly empty, the demands of social security and the tax authorities constantly hovered over him like a sword of Damocles. How he would love to simply chisel iron and work with wood. His two passions. In fact, he felt like an accountant. He wrote "Be free" in this strange app.

It had been a few years since Miquel had sold his workshop and the house in Barcelona. He had never been back since. But he had heard that Japanese-Chilean tapas were served where he had once assembled cabinets. Although he had received an indecent amount of money for the property by his own admission, he would be able to eat there for maybe a year and then he would be broke. But the last thing he dreamed of was eating Japanese-Chilean tapas in Barcelona.

He no longer worked for money in the village where he had bought an abandoned carpenter's workshop. He worked when he felt like it. Or when someone asked him to. Of course, after just a few hours, his muscular body made him a household name. But first and foremost, the few remaining inhabitants were happy that there was a carpenter in the village again. And what a carpenter. Good with the plane. And good with the tail. Miquel had nailed everything there was to nail in the village. His cock was in a jockstrap encrusted with cum and precum. He stank of sweat and musk. If it bothered anyone, Miquel would press their face into his armpit. Either he was rid of the annoying troublemaker afterwards. Or he had a new victim to fuck. Everything was actually perfect… But something was missing.

Miquel hadn't had a cell phone for years. Anyone who wanted to reach him could reach him. He wasn't a hermit. He had internet in the former sheepfold that he converted into his last home. His supposed last home. Who would know that?

He still remembered the moment when he switched off his last phone for the last time. He had used Chronivac for the last time shortly before that. "A contented man in his prime". Damn, that was him.

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap

Wordcount: 4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 1 | in the same room, at the same time

This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would tell yourself, later. But, life is funny that way - nothing ever really goes the way you’d expect it. And, when you had taken the last-minute shift at Enoteca Bruni, the fine-dining restaurant where you worked as a cocktail waitress, you could have never predicted where the night would take you.

It had started with a large reservation that had come in around 8pm, four businessmen in suits and watches that you imagined cost more than your entire month’s rent. You were used to that type - considering the prices on the wine list, nearly everyone you served here lived at least three tax brackets above you. It wasn’t a job meant for everyone - a lot of these types of customers were dismissive, rude, and expected those who serve them to disappear in the background, not to interrupt whatever they were doing, which was obviously oh-so-important. But, the tips were phenomenal, and the late night hours worked perfectly with your daytime shifts at the cafe in the city’s center.

Still, the most intriguing thing about them was that they weren’t Italian, like you had gotten used to - nor were they speaking Spanish, French, German, or any of the other languages you had learned to recognize over the last few years. No, they were American. It wasn’t often that you heard your native tongue and accent nowadays - no, it was actually jarring. But, you welcomed it. The oldest man at the table, a gray-haired, thin man with a sharp face and tailored three-piece suit, smiled when you greeted them with a hello.

“How wonderful,” he had exclaimed. “Someone from our side of the world.”

“Finally,” a younger man with a smattering of freckles on the other side of the table had said, exasperated. “We’ve got someone who actually speaks English around here.”

“Well,” you said, “To be fair, you are in Rome. I suppose you could say we are the odd-ones-out.”

He rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just trying to say it’s nice to actually understand who I’m talking to for once, you know? Not that I’m looking for her to talk back.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t even crack the top ten worst things a customer had said to you in your time working here. So instead, you just plastered on a cheerful smile.

“Of course. In that case, what drinks can I get started for you gentlemen?”

As the hours wore on though, it was becoming harder and harder to feign kindness. With each wave of dismissal, or snap of their fingers, you wanted to take the drinks you were serving and throw them in their faces. The worst of the bunch were probably the first older man you had spoken to, who had such a vile demeanor about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; and perhaps worse than him were two of the younger men, the dark-haired one with freckles, and a sandy-haired guy with what you could only describe as a mullet.

1982 called, it wants its hairstyle back, you thought to yourself. 

It was those two who you could see undressing you with their eyes, who called you over for nonsense requests, asking you to bend over the table to get things that you knew they were perfectly capable of reaching themselves. And, you weren’t deaf; you heard the comments they made as you walked away to fetch more wine and scotch.

Look at that ass go, one of them said. I’d definitely hit it.

As if you could pull that, the other said. Besides, you’ve already got two bitches on the side Billy; leave some for the rest of us.

Don’t look at me, the sandy-haired man who was apparently named Billy retorted. If anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s Harrington.

With your back turned, you rolled your eyes, and wondered if they’d notice if you spit in their drink - that was, until no-first-name Harrington replied.

Guys, lay off - just let the girl do her job, yeah? 

You took a deep breath, and recomposed yourself - it was the bare minimum, but it was something - someone who saw you as a person, maybe.

You carried the tray over with a wide smile plastered on your face, handing out drinks as you surveyed the table. You glanced at Harrington, the quietest one in the group - you had hardly heard a word from him all night, until right now. He was handsome, on the younger side of the group, but you’d estimate still about a decade your senior; he had a thick, slightly wild head of chestnut hair, and more of a boyish look about him. And with the exception of his perfectly-tailored suit and ostentatious Rolex, he didn’t look to have much else in common with his colleagues at first glance. While they sat at ease, laughing and conversing over their drinks, he sat up straight, stoically swirling his wine.

You pulled the post-dinner cigars they had asked you to bring out of the box, slicing the end with the guillotine cutter and handing the first one to the oldest man, striking a match and lighting it for him until he drew smoke. It felt humiliating sometimes, to light the Suits’ cigars for them as if they couldn’t do it themselves, but that came with the territory in a place like this, you had learned. 

You reached Harrington last, only for him to shake his head.

“Oh, none for me - thank you though.”

Thank you - he was probably the first one from the table to say that all evening. 

“Can I get you gentleman anything else?” you asked stiffly.

“That’ll be all, for now,” the gray-haired man said, waving you off. 

You nodded, and at the bar, decided it was high time for your smoke break. You glanced at your watch - your shift was over in less than an hour, and your high heels were killing you. You signaled to the manager behind the bar that you were taking fifteen, and shouldered your way out the door.

*****

The first few minutes outside were peaceful, and relatively quiet - at least, as quiet as Rome could be at this hour. There was still the distant sound of traffic, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, many drunkenly stumbling and laughing, in the midst of making merry on a Friday night. You took a drag from your cigarette and inhaled deeply - even just a few moments off of your feet, and sitting out here on this bench in the fresh air, was starting to take the edge off. Still, you couldn’t shake that table of men - your manager had warned you that it was a very high-profile client, explaining that the dinner was likely a pretense for some multi-million dollar deal to be discussed. Still, you found yourself muttering under your breath, practicing the retorts and profanities you had wanted to throw at them. The shield you had built for dealing with customers was only so strong, and if your job wasn’t on the line, you probably would have told them to fuck off hours ago.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear someone approaching, not until they’re right next to you, clearing their throat.

“Oh! Jesus, hi,” you say, clutching your chest with your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Harrington was standing above you, hands in his pockets and his tie loosened.

“It’s fine - I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His smile was friendly, and a bit apologetic. He looked different in the dim light, a bit younger, and not at all like someone who spends his days in an office doing… whatever those men inside did.

“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you on the bench. You just shook your head, a bit wary of him still.

He smiled, and started fishing around in his pockets until he pulled out a small baggie of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. You raised your eyebrows, and smirked.

“You roll your own cigarettes?” you asked.

He nodded, not quite looking at you, focused intently on the task and hand.

“Yep. It’s so much better than that crap you smoke, trust me.”

You scoffed, despite the fact that this man was technically your customer, and your shift wasn’t quite over yet.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got. Thanks though…” you trailed off, looking at him expectantly. He caught on and turned to face you, grinning.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

He extended a hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the simplicity of the gesture from someone like him, but you took it, telling him your own name. His much bigger hand was warm and calloused, shaking yours firmly before pulling away.

You stared at him intently, desperately trying to figure him out as you placed your cigarette between your lips and inhaled. It was hard to figure out what exactly his deal was - but, he was talking to you like you were an actual person, so that was at least a step above most of the people you’d waited on here.

When he finished rolling, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, then sighed. 

“Shit - d’you have a light?”

You nodded, reaching into your handbag and pulling out your small blue lighter. He leaned in close, close enough that you could faintly smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool May evening. It took a moment for the flame to catch, then he was leaning back and he took a drag, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You looked away quickly, staring at the street ahead. Your black cocktail dress didn’t offer much coverage, causing you to shiver slightly as a breeze picked up. It was Steve who broke the silence, after a few moments.

“I want to apologize, by the way - my, uh, colleagues… they’re assholes.”

You nearly choked at his words, whipping around to face him.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I - I don’t know how much you heard in there, but -”

“I heard enough,” you said quickly.

His face fell, then hardened. He looked… angry? Or, perhaps disappointed.

“I really am sorry. I know I probably should have said something, but…Brenner’s my boss. And, there’s a lot of people who would kill to work for him. So, you have to understand… I mean, Tommy and Billy, they’re real jerks. I can’t stand them, most of the time. So, just know that if you want to punch them in the face, I’d understand.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. 

“Well, just between you and me, I do want to punch them. But… I would really like to keep my job, and actually get a good tip at the end of the night. So, if I can make it through the next -” you glanced at your watch, “- half an hour or so, I’ll be alright. I’m kind of used to it anyway, working here.”

You felt his eyes on you, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Then, he said more softly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”

You shrugged. 

“It’s fine. But, thank you - most people don’t take the time to say that, I guess.”

A moment of semi-awkward silence fell between you and him, before you added, “But, it’s good to know that I apparently have a nice ass.”

He laughed at that, choking on the smoke he was inhaling.

“Oh God - Billy and Tommy really are the worst. Did you hear that they actually were trying to make a bet about you in there?”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What kind of bet?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, staring straight ahead as he shook his head vigorously.

“You know what - nevermind, you’d be disgusted -”

“Well now you have to tell me,” you conceded, inching closer. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad -”

“They said if I manage to get you to go home with me tonight, they’d agree on this huge deal with HNL that they’ve been trying to close with our European counterpart for months - they said it because they knew it wouldn’t happen, of course, I don’t really -”

“What would you get?” you asked bluntly.

“Huh?”

“If they thought you won the bet, like, would that be good for your job?”

He scoffs, nodding fervently.

“Um, yes - my yearly bonus would probably quadruple -”

“Then let’s do it,” you said.

His mouth fell open, and he was staring at you like you had three heads.

“Do what, exactly?”

He suddenly looked flushed, frozen in place as he stared at you. You felt a devilish grin spread on your face as you looked back at him, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harrington.”

*****

You had made sure he arrived back at the table only moments before you. The group of cajoling men were louder now, Tommy slurring his words and Billy in a heated debate with Brenner. Steve flashed a smile at the group, then started sipping his drink as if he had never left.

“What I’m saying is, if we offer them 14 percent -”

“Well, at that rate, we may as well sell them the whole goddamn company -”

“We’re going to have to budge at least a little if we want to make headway, otherwise Upside Tech might outbid us -”

“Harrington!” Tommy cried over the other two men. “Where th’hell ‘ave you been? You left me stranded with these two, they’re actually trying to work right now -”

Then, he spotted you, suddenly flashing a grin that was too wide for your liking.

“Mademoiselle - might I say, I think you’ve only gotten hotter since I last saw you -”

“That was only about twenty minutes ago,” Steve said firmly, cutting Tommy off. “Also, we’re in Italy, not France.”

Tommy waved him off, leaning closer across the table, towards where you stood. 

“May I ask, how’re you getting home tonight, little lady?”

You just smiled.

“I’m actually so happy you brought that up - while I appreciate your concern and all, I’ve got that covered.”

You then turned to Steve, who froze in place.

“Ready to go, Steve?” you asked innocently.

All conversation stopped, then, the other men around the table stopped to gape at him. A smug smirk appeared on Steve’s face, and he stood up slowly, smoothing out his suit.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at the pet name, as ridiculous as it felt. 

“What?” Billy said, his jaw nearly on the floor.

But before they could ask any more questions, Steve was holding out his bent arm, which you graciously hooked yourself through. You pressed yourself into his side, flashing another grin back at the group.

“I’ve left your bill on the table - thank you gentlemen for a wonderful evening, and we hope to see you soon!”

Then Steve surveyed the table, adding, “I suspect you’ll be in touch about negotiation meetings shortly? Since that was the deal and all. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Then, you and Steve turned a corner and headed out the door, to where a car was already waiting for you.

Steve gestured for you to go in ahead of him, opening the backseat door. You slid across, greeting the driver quickly and Steve followed, shutting the door behind you. The second it was closed, you both looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my God - did you see their faces?”

“I’m going to live on that for years,” he added, fighting to breathe. You threw your head back, practically cackling at the memory of their dumbfounded expressions.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it - I think I got off of it more than you.”

“I doubt that.”

You met his gaze, and your breath stopped for a moment. He really was handsome, his honey-brown eyes staring into yours with such sincerity that it was actually overwhelming. You looked away quickly, staring straight ahead.

“Well, if anything, it made my shift more interesting, so thanks,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, and you just made me my yearly bonus, so thank you.”

After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

“So, uh, where do you live? So I can get you home.”

“Oh! Right,” you said. “Um, do you have any ID or anything?”

Steve furrowed his brow, confused.

“Why are you asking?”

“Look, don’t take this personally - I’ve watched way too much Criminal Minds in my life. And, while I’m sure you’re nice and all, I’m not exactly gonna tell a strange man I’ve never met where I live without some precautions. So, I’m going to take a picture of your ID and send it to my roommate, so she knows who to turn in if I end up on the news, yeah?”

Steve just smirked, and pulled out his wallet.

“So, you think I’m strange?”

You shrugged, fighting a smile.

“Obviously, yes.”

Steve chuckled softly, fishing his license out of his wallet.

“Fair enough - as long as you’re not trying to steal my identity or anything.”

“Oh, definitely,” you said sarcastically. “I was actually going to buy a mansion in your name, if that’s alright.”

He laughed, handing you the card as you took a photo. The address was in Indiana - interesting. He was also 30, judging from his birthday - nearly ten years older than you. Also interesting. You handed it back, shooting a quick text to Robin:

I’ll explain later, but in case I get murdered!

You attached the photo and pressed send. 

Satisfied, you leaned forward, telling your address to the driver, who nodded and pulled onto the busy city street.

You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window. You passed dimly-lit alleyways and bustling restaurants, groups smoking on the sidewalk and couples kissing on benches as the evening started winding down. The silence in the car is comfortable enough, considering that you met the man beside you a few hours ago. It’s him who breaks the lull in conversation, once again.

“So, why did you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“The bet? Well, kind of - at least, why did you make it look like I - like we -”

You shrugged, shifting to face him.

“Honestly?”

He nodded, gaze fixed on you.

“Well - a few reasons, I guess. I knew it would get those jerks off of my back. And, I knew it would help you, with your bonus and all.”

“And why did you want to help me, though? You know nothing about me.”

“Not true,” you said firmly. “I know one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re kind.”

It was simple, but true - for the type of clientele you usually served, he was a rare breed. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I mean, you were nice to me, and actually treated me like a person. I can’t say that for a lot of people, not in that place.”

“Oh,” he said softly. 

A beat. Two. Then, he added, “Oh no - I didn’t even ask, did you have a car, back at the restaurant? Because we can go back and get it -”

“No, don’t worry about it - I don’t have one. I usually take the bus.”

“Oh - alright.”

You tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - Steve probably wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. Or any public transport, for that matter. But, you kept it within yourself, and turned out towards the window again - the sights were getting more familiar, the buildings a little more run-down - closer to home.

You noticed your phone light up in your lap, and glanced down - a response from Robin.

Um… congrats???? Getting laid???? You’d better tell me EVERYTHING!!!!

You laughed under your breath, and saw Steve move to look at you out of the corner of your eye, curious. Before you could respond to her message, the car came to a halt right outside of your apartment building. You sighed, and turned to face the man beside you.

“Well, this is me. Thank you. For the ride home, I mean - you didn’t really have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Had to make sure you got home safely and all, it was the least I could do.”

You both looked at each other for a moment, faces soft. You shot him another appreciative smile, and popped open the car door.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington. Until we meet again!”

You knew the chances of seeing him ever again were slim at best, but it felt like the right thing to say, given the hilarity of the situation. After slamming the door shut, you rooted through your bag for your keys, taking the steps up to your door two at a time. Before heading inside, you turned and waved to the car one more time - Steve wasn’t visible through the tinted windows, but you liked to imagine that he was waving back, maybe even smiling fondly. 

******

Two days later, an envelope was pushed through the mail slot in your door. It was Robin who brought it in, plopping it down on the kitchen table as you sipped your coffee.

“What’s that?” you asked.

She shrugged, carding through the other envelopes and flyers.

“Don’t know. But, it’s made out to you. The envelope looks fancy though - I mean, who the Hell puts a wax seal on letters anymore?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and snatched it up, turning it over in your hands - it was thick, the nice kind of stationary that you had to go out of your way to buy. There was a return address, but it seemed like it was for an office building of some kind, with no name associated. And, right on the center, a red wax seal with an H. You felt your face grow hot, your stomach doing somersaults as you practically tore the thing open.

Inside was a simple piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. After writing out your name, it read:

Thank you again, for the other night. You have no idea how much that helped me out. Plus, it was probably the best time I’ve had at a work event… well, ever. But, since you provided such great service… you really should be tipped appropriately. I also made sure to leave a glowing review with your manager the next day. Buy yourself something nice.

S.H.

You glanced back in the envelope, and gasped - loudly enough that Robin stopped what she was doing, and joined you in her awe.

“Is that -”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s a shit ton of money.”

He had sent a stack of €100 notes - you hadn’t counted yet, but it had to be over €1,000, at least. 

“Dude, that’s like, at least two months’ rent right there, right?” Robin asks, flabbergasted.

“I - yeah.”

“Okay, be honest - are you a drug dealer? Is that, like, a side gig you’ve got going?”

You shook your head incredulously, gripping the money - the most cash you had ever held at one time in your life.

“No,” you admitted. “That would be a lot easier to explain.” Steve Harrington, you thought to yourself, what’s your deal?

Notes: a brand new fic! A ton of credit goes to my friend Em, who indulges my fantasies and headcanons with plenty of ideas of her own. Also, I've never been to Rome, so bear with me here. Also, please always read content warnings before reading each part!

Reply if you'd like to be added to the taglist

[pyromaniacldrt]

So, my mind has been reclaimed by the Wild Kratts fandom, and I cannot escape.

So I´ll make random headcannons! (Disclaimer: These are not about the actual Kratt bros, I´m writting about the show)

STARTING WITH THE BLUE BOY.

Martin is an organized disaster; Alow me to elaborate. Martin has BIG trouble keeping himself of getting distractions or organizing at all, and yet somehow finds what he´s looking for.

He loves moving around and NEEDS to say hi to every animal and give them THE BEST NAMES, wich I personally belive is the reason he has more scars due to animal attacks than the rest of the crew (I can imagine him getting a bit too close to a grizzly cub and naming him Presley and his mom Mrs.Sharpclaw. I cannot unsee it. ).

Sometimes he´ll talk about animals for hours and compete with Chris to know who knows more about creatures. It´s a wonder how Tortuga hasnt been wrecked yet.

This guy here is a bit bilingual, unlike Chris who dosent quite understand new languages. Martin likes to learn new words in spanish with Aviva.

Also (based on that one interview where Martin said he at first wanted to be a veterinarian that mentioned someone in tumblr but I cant remember their name), Martin has some interest in the med area, and got even bigger after the Orangoutang episode.

He HATES to be still, specially after the tree episode. I think he probably hates small spaces and will not tolerate to be locked out.

I do personally belive he´s kind of the unnamed leader of Tortuga. While he´s not a strategist and is a total clumsy geek, this guy will act quickly and is very good under stressfull situations and making decesive decisions, even if he sometimes does not think it through (like in the Flying fish episode). He's a professional in his job and everyone forgets that sometimes.

Martin is the type of person to believe in second chances, and tries to see good in everything and (mostly) everyone.

BUT. Hurt his friends or/and (god forbid) his brother, and RUN. He'll catch you anyway, but is worth to try.

THIS IDIOT DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IS SELF PRESERVATION AND NOT BEING A HUMAN SHIELD.

Yet, he has the most consistent sleep schedule.

I like to think that he and Aviva were the first members of the whole Wild Kratts project, but it was far different, like some kind of lab in an island. Then Koki and Jimmy came and BOOM. Tortuga. Chris was the last member to officially join the crew, but he was there since the begining.

Martin can play MANY instruments, but only knows the cheesiest, most anoying and weird songs to ever exist.

He has used the "I´m the older brother and I´ll tell mom" Card on Chris way to many times.

Martin is the oldest member of the crew, wich makes him feel responsible for everyone and tries to protect them. Still, he´s just to silly to do so, and always gets distracted.

He can´t draw. Like, at all. Chris makes fun of that all of the time.

He´s a heartbreaker and he dosen´t even know. Like, he´s so oblivious to the fact that many people have a crush on him and he´s just like "You´re such a great friend haha!" after literally telling said person how pretty and awsome they are.

He´s got that blonde on him.

If it wasn´t for the fact that she´s a villain, Donita and Martin would be great friends.

Maybe I´ll make more parts, I dunno...

Pyro Out!

[sadhours]

the diner - part two

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one

read on ao3

Billy is his name. It’s embroidered on his coveralls. He’s caught your attention but there’s something very off about him. You’ve grown up here. People don’t move here but he did. And you can’t figure out why. But there has to be a reason. He’s trying not to be found, he’s got to be escaping something. The guy looks like he’s hiding. No one can offer much information about him. The folks who have talked to him can’t pull any from him.

It seems as if he keeps to himself. He shows up at places you go but he’s always alone and doesn’t really talk to anyone. Like, okay, the bar. There’s one bar in this town and you’ve seen him there several times. While you’re chitchatting with locals, he’s sat at the bar. Smokes and smokes and downs beers and shots but he doesn’t fucking talk. You try hard not to watch him but you look. And he’s always staring at the bar, mess of blonde curls hiding his face. His hair is long, choppy layers but it’s past his shoulders and kind of big. It’s confusing because… the dudes handsome. Has a real pretty face though he always looks exhausted— like he’s seen horrific things. You’ve begged the bartender, Lacey, to tell you the conversations they’ve had but she insists he doesn’t talk much. She has told you that he comes in a lot. And even those nights when it’s just been him and her alone in the bar, he’s quiet. But he plays music on the jukebox. You asked what he plays and it tells you something but nothing of substance. The guy likes his hair metal and Hendrix.

And one time she asked him to kill a spider. But he didn’t. He laid out his hand, let the spider crawl onto his fingers and carried it outside. You like that story because you think it gives you insight into the stranger. Tells you something he or no one else can’t.

The owner of Route One Garage is a close friend. Your dad’s buddy, named Pete. He comes into the diner daily but he can’t give you anymore information. Tells you only the things everyone knows. That he’s from California and he’s really good with cars. Pete says he’s quiet, keeps to himself and that he doesn’t talk about himself— ever. Offers opinions about superficial stuff. He likes Marlboro Reds and Ole’ Colonial beer. Says he used to have a Camaro but it was wrecked in an accident. Won’t give any details of the accident.

Other than that, Manuel Gomez says he frequents his restaurant— that he loves Mexican food, and asks for the extra spicy stuff. Manuel says he even knows some Spanish, but if he’s from Southern California, that makes sense and isn’t really helpful in getting to know the stranger. And you’re really trying not to obsess over it, but he just has you so incredibly curious. You wonder if he’s lonely. You are and this own town is like family.

He comes in kind of early. 10 pm instead of after midnight. Something tells you to dig deep. So when he sits, lights his cigarette and stares down at the table, you slip into the booth across from him. You grab the menu and open it, purse your lips as you look through it and as you glance up at him, he looks uncomfortable.

Billy asks you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what you’re gonna eat today,” you answer with a shrug but you’re determined to learn more about him. Even if it’s through food. “You like sandwiches?”

“Does anyone not like sandwiches?” he replies, but he’s fidgeting— like he’s uncomfortable.

You nod and meet his eyeline, “Yeah. Some dudes get offended when I suggest sandwiches.”

“How is that possible? It’s like, the least offensive food.”

“I don’t like eggs,” you shrug, “Everyone has preferences.”

Billy’s face looks cute. Looking at you with his brows knit, bright blue eyes all confused. “You don’t like eggs? Why?”

“They’re bouncy and they stink,” you offer easily. You’ve despised them your whole life.

“Your job must be real difficult if you don’t like the smell of eggs,” he responds and he still doesn’t exactly meet your eyes.

You make a face as you flip the page of the menu, “You’ve got no idea. If they’re not drowned in cheese, I have to try really hard not to gag.”

“My dad— I can’t eat them scrabbled because that’s the only thing he knew how to cook.”

Aha. Information. He has a family. But he said knew not knows. Maybe his dad is dead.

“Noted, I don’t know if over easy is any better though,” you tell him as you scan the menu. “Our pot roast is pretty good.”

“It’s the morning. Do people usually eat pot roast for breakfast?”

That’s a good point.

“Do you like pancakes?” you ask, then.

Billy shrugs, “Yeah, I mean they’re fine but they’re not healthy.”

“Okay, so you’re health conscious but you chain smoke cigarettes,” you laugh softly. “Maybe some oatmeal and yogurt?”

He sighs, snatches the menu from you and closes it. “How about you get me the breakfast I always get? And how about you don’t fucking question it?”

The shift is brutal and you’re suddenly really embarrassed about sliding into the booth and trying to get to know him. You slide out without another word and put in his order. Fill his coffee cup without a word. Serve him his breakfast and don’t say a single thing to him. You’ve learned from this— learned his a fucking asshole.

You’re relieved when he leaves. Recount the story to your coworkers but they excuse him.

“Yeah,” Becky scoffs, “The guy’s a fucking weirdo. Why are you trying to talk to him?”

“He comes in literally every time I work,” you argue, “Why wouldn’t I try to like, talk to him?”

Becky’s face grimaces, “You don’t think he’s a weirdo? He’s dirty and he doesn’t make eye contact. Besides… I think he’s pretty creepy.”

Creepy isn’t a way you’d describe him. And based off what Becky says next, you think she could read your face.

“He’s moved here suddenly, doesn’t have any friends— like seriously, he doesn’t talk to anyone. He works in that place and then what? He’s probably a serial killer or something,” Becky’s face is contorted in disgust.

You chew on your bottom lip, “I think he’s kind of cute…”

“They thought Ted Bundy was hot,” Becky argues, “Seriously. He’s not hideous but he’s a weirdo. He’s definitely got skeletons in his closet— literally.”

—

That night, you go to the bar. You have tomorrow off so it’s routine. You meet your friends there. And like clockwork, Billy walks in about thirty minutes after you get there. You can feel his eyes on you and you think maybe he’s still upset about earlier today. So after a round of shots, you approach him.

“I’m sorry about earlier. That was weird,” you rush out, feeling the heat from the tequila, “I don’t usually sit with patrons and pry like that— but, like, this is a small ass town and we don’t have people move here. I know everyone here, so I was just trying to get to know you.”

His response is cold, “You don’t wanna know me.”

And it’s so far from reality. But it feels like a warning. You look down and see how his wrists have these deep scars. Purple and red rough skin, wrapped around the limbs. He notices, pulls down the sleeves of his denim jacket to hide them.

Snarls his teeth and tells you, “Get lost.”

You wanna push him off the barstool, tell him he’s the one who needs to get lost. But you don’t. You swallow the lump in your throat and retreat. Get back to your friends and try to the into the pretty, blonde stranger with a bad fucking additude but you feel his eyes on you. And you do your best to ignore the dreadful feeling that sits in your stomach, try not to recognize it as fear. It feels charged suddenly and you’re scared. So you drink, down another shot or two until it fizzles out. Play some pool with your friends.

As the night goes on, one by one your friends leave until it’s just you and Billy and Lacey. But he doesn’t talk to you. You converse with Lacey for a while until you get sleepy. After saying goodbye, you stumble to your car and can’t help but feeling like you’re being followed. Ignoring it, you make your way home. Lock your doors when you get inside and bypass the bathroom, too tired and go to your bedroom. You lay down for a beat, eyes glued to your window. That feeling— being watched is heavy on you. And you get up, rush to the window and pull up the blinds. Cup your hands on the glass as you peer through. See the eyes watching you, then the person runs. The harder you look, the more you can make out the blonde curls.

—

Billy doesn’t come into the diner. Which you’re glad. The day after you were certain you’d seen him peeking into your window, you’d sat on the couch. Unable to sleep. Held yourself in fear, panicked as you kept checking all the windows. And you know you should tell someone but for some reason, you don’t.

As you work, you keep looking towards the rundown mechanic shop next door. Some part of you expects him to be standing at the big window, staring back at you. But he doesn’t.

You’re confused and scared. You decide it’s best to stay at your parents house for the next two weeks. But you lie to them, just say there’s an issue with your plumbing. And when Billy doesn’t come into the dinner for those two weeks, you figure it’s fine to return home.

[lilyw-catears]

What I know about QSMP (i learned all of this from tumblr and slimecicle)

-english speaking and spanish speaking youtubers (pog)

-there are eggs

-the eggs are co parented by english and spanish youtubers

-juanaflippa is trans (pog)

-slimecicle is there

-quakity is there

-philza is there

-jaiden animations is there

-theres a wall

-there is a bear (???)

-jaiden sang a fnaf (?) song once I think the bear was there too

-there is a code thing. I do not know what it does but I dont think people like it that much

-bobby is an egg

-what is happening why is there a boat

-the eggs keep dying

-juannafliipa dies (not pog) and slimecicle goes crazy and is going to kill all the eggs for some reason but he's super incompetent and I think kills juannaflipa again somehow

-french people???

-juanaflipa gets resurrected at some point

-how do you spell Jaunafippa

-tubbo is here now

-tubbo really likes qsmp and screams and crys when the server is closed for even a day I think he should seek professional help

-qsmp was ddosed? Idk what that means

-technoblade memorial during Dia de Los Muertos that made me cry

-oh I think bbh is there too I think he's evil

-slimecicle became an egg ???????

-slomecicle is code now and everyone finds that very weird why is he code

-there is a plane ?

-slimecicle sang a song about juanafipa how can he sing so high he should start singing professionally

-there was a purgatory event thing (?) and aimsey was there

-i pushed a button becuase the internet told me too

[inchidentally]

I love love love your landoscar (and carlando and dando) deep dives and analysis and in one of them you mentioned how Carlos acts very differently with Charles than he does with Lando and that charlos is its own different topic so I was wondering about your thoughts on their dynamic👀 Would love to read them but no pressure of course!

(these asks are literally from last year and I am soso soooo sorry for taking so long <3<3)

god anon I love all three too even if the multishipping thing is wayyy too uncommon for me to do it out here publicly on my blog anymore!

truly - and this is fully rpf projecting switched off - the Charles/Carlos and Carlos/Lando dynamics are so different and it was so sweet during the Melbourne 2024 celebrations watching Carlos switching between the two aslfhsalfh. bc Carlos literally helped raise Lando from the kid Lando's closest friends and even Zak described as a loner and intensely shy, to someone who could borrow quite a lot from Carlos' persona for himself and even learned a social hobby in golf to integrate him more with other drivers. it's not as 'sweet' per se but even the fact that Lando a while ago was like 'oh I only date Spanish girls' during that golf stream bc Carlos literally helped Lando meet girls (this was before Luisa). straight up he functioned as Lando's F1 and PR social lifeline in a way where Lando was still pretty clingy even up to like late 2022? bc Daniel was another great big alpha personality to do a lot of the heavy lifting like Carlos did but Lando and Daniel are more of a friendship of equals.

but for Carlos, Lando's mostly stayed in that little brother position - even moreso I'd say as Carlos approaches 30 bc his lifestyle now is way more grown-up than Lando's and his approach to his career and racing is vaaaastly different to Lando's. and tbh it's one of many reasons I was glad they didn't stay teammates bc regardless of what fans wanted and PR pushed, that would either not have ended well or it would have had truly excruciating moments (similar to that 'breakup' moment in 2022). I think ultimately they'd always have ended up ok but it's good to not have had to wait and find out how.

I genuinely think it'll only be in retrospect that people learn to appreciate how impressive and cohesive Carlos and Charles' partnership has been bc I only ever see a few people say this. and again, ignoring the whole PR bromance aspect of it, this is in how they have weathered the absolute WORST of everything that could be thrown at a pairing and always come out unified. their fanbases have been at bloody war since day one, the Tifosi have been embroiled in civil war, their own families use multiple platforms to stir up enmity, Ferrari's Borgia-esque culture has directly and indirectly worked to disrupt communication and good will between the two garages. team orders has been Russian roulette every race. the literal racing gods seem to roll the dice when it comes to which of them will be favored and who will be left burning with anger. and even when both suffer equally due to the many forces outside their control, guaranteed everyone but themselves will be trying to somehow pin blame on the other.

a tiny fraction of this amount of drama has been enough to destroy partnerships plenty of times in racing history and even throughout their time as teammates.

AND YET !! every hasty word or outburst is smoothed over within hours or even minutes!

bc the common aortic valve they've mutually decided to share between them has stayed strong, vital and healthy. I cannot wait for their biographies or a docu series bc the amount of obvious communication going on between them fully behind the scenes from absolutely everyone is the only reason they haven't both been locked in a br0cedes degree battle royale. absolutely no one but themselves has wanted them to be harmonious.

and when the most shocking headline probably for a decade happened, they decided the very day after being told (in advance of the public what would turn out to be just a few days) to drive together to Maranello and sign autographs and have photos taken of them in Carlos' car. the rest of us only found out later when the rumors were confirmed that this was a hugely symbolic display of solidarity.

even their intense and fun physicality, when you take the gay chicken aspect of it away, remains in the form of physically finding warmth and steadiness in each other as the only two people who can relate in full detail to the other. they're both your typical super physical European guys with other guys, but even when they're not horsing around there is a comfort and ease in being able to lean close or clap a hand on a shoulder and share closed-eyes embraces.

and that's why Melbourne was a Charles and Carlos affair with little Lando along for it getting his hugs and paternal kisses. when Carlos and Lando looked at each other it was right back to that chummy mischief sparkle in the eye thing they've always had. Lando still inhabits the rosy world of possibility and cresting the height of his career and a vastly different new teammate who is playing a part in that. but when Charles ran over for a private celebration before Carlos had even gotten out of his car - and when they sat together in the cool down room like two bone-weary parents watching TV while Lando buzzed about - and would turn to each other on the podium and lock eyes, it's bc they both get it in exactly the same way. Carlos faces uncertainty but opportunity, Charles faces uncertainty but certain difficulty. all of which was paralleled in Monaco for Charles' win. elation is mixed with grim satisfaction as much as joy.

the relief, the exhaustion, the bitterness of years without the WDC and the long stretches between wins in the back of the throat mixing with the champagne, even their tears of joy this season mixing with the fact that both of them have had tears in their eyes when asked about the end of their partnership - even down to the parallel in each if their wins this year of having a McLaren rugrat scurrying around the edge of drama neither of their pretty young heads has ever experienced even by proximity - both boys already assured by contract and by their performance of steadiness for years to come. the gold of their feelings on podiums hasn't tarnished or worn yet.

as always, the reality of these guys' actual friendships is rarely known until well after retirement. but the fact that Carlos and Charles held something so strong between them that made them reject the much easier option of simply hating each other or just neutrally existing in separate spheres (like so many other partnerships have done) means that mutual respect or mutual agreement or sympathetic personalities - or all three - was their choice, even if it's made their own careers and lives far more complicated and difficult.

[texanmarcusdavenport]

Mighty Med Headcanons

Gus

Gus is secretly a Perry. They have a lot in common: weird side character that shows up at the most (in)opportune moments, has an unrealistic variety of skills and resources, a past that's WAY too storied to be true yet somehow it is??, and obsessive behavior over their romantic interests (Perry with Douglas & Gus with Jordan). If they're not related, they'd 100% get along like a house on fire if they did meet.

Gus and Oliver are childhood friends of the "our parents forced us to hang out" variety. Oliver is GOBSMACKED that both his parents like Gus better than Kaz. Like. How??

Jordan

Jordan!! I <3 her. There’s a post going around on here that says she should've been in Elite Force instead of AJ & I 100% agree. She does seem like the type that'd be a surprisingly good hacker... and honestly I just really miss her :(

Her & Daniel(le) would get along. I have no proof I just know it. Troublemakers Inc(TM)

Kaz(imieras)

Pansexual & polyamorous. As long as everyone's having fun he's down for whatever

Transfem genderfluid, he/she/it. Starts by calling itself a woman/girl casually until Oliver's like. Kaz is there anything you want to tell me. & Kaz is like pfffft what no that's ridiculous ha ha Oliver I think I'd know if I was transgender. Then Kaz thinks about it & it's like. Damn it.

It/its pronouns also happen via jokes, she's just like. I'm like if a girl were a bug :) or perhaps a small mammal. Until someone calls her 'it' and she's like. Hm. Kinda slaps.

Doesn't even realize she has dysphoria, just starts acting & dressing more feminine when it suits her & 2 years later she's like. Huh. I haven't been avoiding mirrors lately. Wonder what that's about?

Combined-type ADHD

Dyslexic & dysgraphic. Only got through English by the Grace of God (Oliver). But I headcanon that other than spelling & syntax errors he's actually a great writer when he puts the effort in. He'd kill in public speaking but he'd never do that lol.

If she had a Normo job, it'd be firefighter

Oliver

Trans guy, he/him. He & Kaz are transmasc/transfem solidarity. His mom is more supportive than his dad.

OCD, anxiety, autistic. Gets all 3 from his parents which is part of the reason it took so long to get a diagnosis (both of them just thought getting crippling bouts of anxiety was normal).

Aroallo, specifically cupioromantic bisexual... this is so important to me you don't understand. Oliver is a very codependent character and I think learning to live on his own & not be jealous of his friends would be a great character arc for him.

He & Kaz r so fucking queerplatonic don't even get me started. Do Not Seperate Them.

Skylar Storm

Ace lesbian

She's an alien so I don't think she prescribes to human gender roles like. At all. So she's not really "trans" or "cis", but she does use she/xhe pronouns & mostly describe herself as a woman.

Futch Skylar... futch Skylar supremacy!! Has a sort of complicated relationship with presentation and whatnot, human femininity is sort of the norm for Skylarkind as a fashion trend. Xhe and Experion actually were both ostracized for their presentation (butch/trans Experion my beloved <3). I think xhe prefers more masculine dress but in fun styles and colors because, in her words, "practicality doesn't have to be boring".

Skylar Storm is essentially just a stage name, it started as anickname based on a very loose translation of xyr actual name.

Alan Diaz

Trans guy, any pronouns. Mostly because they're confused by language as a concept.

You know how its a running gag in MM that Horace never taught him how to count past eighty? That, but with language. Horace speaks Arabic, Old Castilian, & Mexican Spanish interchangeably so Alan grew up thinking that's just how people talk. Mix that with random alien languages &, well, they're incomprehensible on the best of days.

Doesn't know they're trans. Like they're trans obviously but if you told her that she wouldn't really understand.

Oliver: so you were, uh, born a girl but you're a boy now?

Alan: no, I'm a boy.

Oliver: yeah, obviously, but like, physically--

Alan: What Normo nonsense are you on about.

And it continues like that.

Polysexual, and if xe were married xe'd be a Wife Guy (positive).

[totravelasfriends7433]

Incorrect Quotes

Valkyrie: No, this is not a mess. You know what I consider a mess? Melissa: Your life? Valkyrie: I- well yes, but-

Valkyrie: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

Murderer: Any last words? Valkyrie: Do you think I'm cute? Be honest.

Melissa: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO- Valkyrie: It was me… Melissa: …Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Valkyrie: I am the most responsible person in the group. Melissa: …You just set the kitchen on fire. Valkyrie: Yes, and I take full responsibility for that.

Fletcher: Cronch. Fletcher: You hear that? That's the sound of me eating sticks. Melissa: No, don’t— Fletcher: Too late.

Fletcher: I love you. Valkyrie: I love me too.

Fletcher: Big day today, Valkyrie. holds up two shirts Mustard stain or ketchup stain? Valkyrie: Mustard– looks less like blood.

Valkyrie: I hope no one lowkey hates me. Valkyrie: Highkey hate me. Hate me with every fiber of your being. Valkyrie: Go big or go home.

Fletcher: ATTENTION: I HAVE BREACHED CONTAINMENT. Fletcher: DO NOT PANIC, I AM SIMPLY GETTING A SNACK.

Valkyrie: Ask me anything. Go ahead, I'll give you a straight answer. Fletcher: Why are we so fucking awesome? Valkyrie: That's the best fucking question anybody's ever asked.

Fletcher: Hugs Valkyrie from behind Fletcher: Tucks Valkyrie's hair behind their ear Fletcher, whispering: Eat all the frosted animal crackers again and they'll never find your body.

Tsu: Do you support gay rights? Shinsou: I’m literally gay. Valkyrie: He's avoiding the question!

Valkyrie, to Shinsou: You're starting to forget your Spanish. You don't practice. Shinsou: Lo siento. Estoy embarazada. Valkyrie: You just told me you're pregnant. Tsu: Congratulations Shinsou, you're glowing!

Valkyrie: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT! Tsu: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone. Valkyrie: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch? Tsu: Somehow that's worse.

Valkyrie: I have to say, I'm a little embarrassed for you. Shinsou: This is a sports-related injury. It makes me look cool! Valkyrie: Tripping over a basketball on your way to the bathroom is not cool!

Tsu: Shinsou, Valkyrie, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing? Shinsou, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Valkyrie is sitting atop: Oh nothing much. Valkyrie: I love you too :)

Shinsou: I wanna sleep for 40 hours. Valkyrie: You know that's called a coma, right? Shinsou: Shinsou: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

Tsu: Isn’t it weird how we pay money to see other people? Shinsou: You mean movies? Valkyrie: Concerts? Momo: Prostitutes? Tsu: Wha…N-no, I mean glasses, what the fuck-

Valkyrie, dramatically: They called me a fool. Momo, sick of Valkyrie's shit: They weren’t wrong.

Valkyrie: falls down the stairs Momo: Are you okay? Tsu: Stop falling down the stairs! Midoriya: How’d the ground taste?

Valkyrie: I do two things and two things only. I devastate sorry motherfuckers, and get shit done as an awesome leader.

Shinsou: Eat shit and die, Midoriya!!! Midoriya: Eat shit and live, Shinsou.

Midoriya: Remember everyone, violence is never the answer. Valkyrie: You're right, Midoriya.. Violence can't be the answer. Midoriya: Correct, Valkyrie. Now, on to the next lesso- Valkyrie: Violence is the question. Valkyrie: And the answer is yes! Midoriya: Valkyrie, no!!

Hatsume: If there’s one thing I learned from Midoriya, it’s to set people’s expectations real low, so you end up surprising them by practically doing nothing at all.

Store Worker: Would a “Valkyrie” please come to the front desk? Valkyrie, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem? Store Worker, pointing to Midoriya and Hatsume: I believe they belong to you? Midoriya and Hatsume, simultaneously: We got lost. Valkyrie: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me—

Shinsou: What do I get? Valkyrie: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death. Shinsou: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one. Valkyrie: It won't be you. Shinsou: I'll get my coat.

Shinsou: walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone Fletcher: Hey, Shinsou, how was your day? Shinsou: picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Fletcher Hell. Momo, watching this unfold: whispers Who hurt you?

Midoriya, bleeding out on the ground: Blood loss? No, I know exactly where it is.

Tsu: Hatsume noticed only today that they can label their email inboxes, but they took apart their entire bloody laptop two weeks ago. Momo: This reminds me of the Hatsume who couldn’t turn on the coffee maker, but remembers about 500 digits of pi. Tsu: I’ll be delighted to inform you that this is the very same Hatsume.

Valkyrie: Is this about me? Fletcher: No. Valkyrie: Then I've lost interest.

[punkfloweranarchy]

Rio and Jeff both have different and unique relationships with all of the arachkids that Miles brings home (or that just seem to spawn in their living room periodically lmao).

They both love Pav (who doesn’t?). Rio loves his more outgoing/goofy personality and how it brings it out in everyone around him (Jeff especially gets a bit goofy and it reminds her of when Miles was young and how they used to play and interact — it makes her heart melt). Jeff likes good vibes and the kid is full of them lol, easy banter, perfect ‘yes, and’ energy all around. They constantly ask how his girlfriend and family are doing. He brings them authentic chai (they’ve all dropped the ‘chai tea’ phrase) and brings Rio gifts almost every time he’s over as a thanks for letting him impose on their space (flowers, fabrics, jewelry, you name it. she loves and appreciates every thing he brings and is very touched at the thought despite telling him every time that it’s not necessary).

Neither had a great impression of Gwen at first, and it’s still a bit tentative but they can see how happy she makes Miles and how much she means to everyone in the group. Rio immediately notices how she shows her care and affection differently than anyone else — it’s in the details that she leaves behind. A sweater here, a drumstick there, as if to say ‘I know I’m universes away but I’m also still here and I’ll be back’. Jeff notices how the girl is always teasing but never too far, just enough to poke fun and more often put people at ease. She wants everyone to be comfortable and happy. She flits in and out sporadically but is always there when she’s needed. She is the biggest supporter of Miles’ creativity and somehow always knows when he’s close to burning himself out with schoolwork and makes a point to drag him out and let off some steam to get his mind to a better place. She’s getting better at the respect part, only slipping up on their names a few times and learning the etiquette rules. They both appreciate her efforts.

Margo is their favorite, hands down. She’s the perfect mix of respectful and witty. She keeps them all honest. She’s always the first to offer to help cook or set the table anytime she’s over for dinner. She helps Jeff with his tech problems and has long conversations with Rio in spanish (they have slightly different accents and dialect but they make it work). She is literally their ideal daughter in law (but would never push Miles away from who he wants, so they leave the matter be and just appreciate her as Miles’ friend).

Hobie is the most complicated out of the bunch. Rio sees him as someone in need of her mothering and is constantly trying to force food and comfort onto him. Every time he’s over she offers their house for the night so she can have peace of mind knowing that he’s safe (she had heard that he doesn’t have a stable living situation and has been Worried since). She knows he comes from a complicated world and wants to help the kid her son is so fond of. He is respectful and considerate, if a little bit tense whenever Jeff is around. Rio doesn’t mind his punk look or attitude, after all, she herself was a bit of an anarchist once upon a time and she just wants the best for him. Jeff likes Hobie. He really does. Even if they butt heads and have very different (and sometimes loud) opinions on certain topics. But at the end of the day he feels for the kid and wishes things were different in both of their worlds so Hobie wouldn’t have to feel so on edge around him. He knows they’re never going to be best buds or maybe even anything better than ‘slightly tense and awkward’ but he vows to at least do anything in his power to show the kid that there’s still good in the world(s).

Rio and Jeff are just glad that Miles has so many people in his life that love and support him <3

[study-with-aura]

Wednesday, July 31, 2024

I feel like my posts have been dry lately, specifically my study photos. It's not a bad thing. It merely forces me to get a little more creative with my setup. In my defense, I have been taking these photos later than usual, usually right before I post (I adjust the temperature and use my regular filter 'blossom' so it doesn't look dull). I did buy washi tape, so maybe I can utilize that somehow once it gets here. The ones I got are so cute! I can't wait to show them to all of you!

As mentioned in yesterday's post, I will not be posting again until Sunday, but I will still have my phone to check in on the app. I am really excited for the weekend overnight! I never get to do too much with the youth group because of ballet during the academic year and camps over the summer that run into youth night, so this will be a good thing! I'm really close with the other girls my age in the youth group, and even a few that are a couple of years older. Other than Sundays, we don't really see much of each other.

Oh! And in final news, I have an interview for this really cool leadership project that involves media, event planning, fundraising, and even community service! It's all volunteer and the commitment is only 2-3 times a month on the weekends, so it fits my availability. But it feels like going out for a job! I need two letters of recommendation, had to fill out an application, and now I have an interview. I am really excited, and I really hope I get it! I'm not sure how many people actually apply, but the applicants are very limited in the fact that you have to identify as a girl, be in the last three years of high school, be regularly involved with a church, and you have to meet certain academic requirements outside of grade level whether that be through GPA, extracurricular leadership, sports leadership, or whatever. Plus you have to live within a certain vicinity because it's only available to girls in that community since it's for that community. And they accept around 30 applicants, so the possibility of me being accepted is actually quite high. The interview is next week, and I'm a little nervous, but I'm also looking forward to the experience.

I'm off to get ready for bed. Have a great weekend everyone, and I will see you again on Sunday! 💛💛💛

Tasks Completed:

History 9 - Learned about impressionism in music + learned about Claude Debussy + studied Debussy's Prelude of The Afternoon Faun, Claire de lune, and Voiles

KA GRF Algebra 2 - Completed Unit 4: Lessons 3-5 + Unit 4: Quiz 3

Duolingo - Studied for approximately 30 minutes (Spanish + French + Chinese) + completed daily quests

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for two hours in one hour split sessions

Reading - Read pages 125-162 of The Luminaries by Susan Dennard

Chores -  None today

Activities of the Day:

Morning yoga

Swimming

Personal Bible Study (Psalms 25)

Church youth group

Journal/Mindfulness

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part seven

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, if you read these be warned that the last little bit will probably make you want to yell at me, ignore the fact that the mentioned tswift song wasn't out in 2021, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 4.8k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday!! it’s here! part seven!! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks, I hope you all have an amazing weekend!! (side note: this chapter means we've almost hit 50,000 words on this story??? what!!! thanks for all your support!)

part seven - pasta e piselli

C’mon, pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

Bradley repeats the plea over and over again in his head, staring at his own stressed expression on the Facetime call screen. He’s not sure why he’s worried; she’s picked up every other time he’s called.

Which has been every day this week, so far.

He’s just about to give up, figuring she’s still busy at work, when Mary answers.

“Happy Thurs-” Bradley stops when he realizes she’s on the phone, holding a finger up.

“Just hang on one second, Zia! No! I-” She speaks rapidly in another language, surprising Bradley, before pulling the phone away and bending closer to her iPad. “Sorry, I just need like ten minutes to get her off the phone, and then I’m all yours. I can call you back?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll just be here.” He returns her smile, only slightly distracted by the brief flash of lace he gets where her work shirt is unbuttoned.

Bradley watches her bustle around her hotel room, tidying up and throwing things in her suitcase as she talks on the phone. He gets comfortable on his couch, propping himself up on a mountain of pillows and letting the sweet sound of Mary’s voice wash over him. He’s pretty sure she’s talking to her aunt in Italian, based on the googling he did of the bits and pieces he was able to understand.

It’s sexy, he thinks, imagining what it would be like to have her whisper in his ear in Italian, even if he would have no idea what was being said.

“You would think the fact that she’s closing in on 100 would mean she would have less energy to talk, but somehow, she’s only gained strength over the years.”

His focus comes back to the screen, drifting away from the fantasy he was building in his head to find Mary smiling sweetly at him, her chin resting in her hand. “Hi.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

“You speak Italian.” She nods, saying something to him and laughing when he just looks confused. “What?”

“I said that you must have had a stressful day because your hair looks like your call sign, Mr. Rooster.”

“It’s not that bad!” A glance at his Facetime window tells him that his hair is sticking straight up. Of course, he can’t admit that it’s from running his hands through it during his minor panic that she wouldn’t pick up and then while dreaming about having her on his lap. “Okay. I’ve had better hair days. But back to you, Italian?”

“Yeah, my whole family speaks it to varying degrees. The first few generations - on both sides - spoke very little English, if any at all. My parents and their siblings are the first generation that you could consider fully fluent in English. I had older relatives that only spoke Italian live with my family growing up, so I was a bilingual baby.”

“Was it hard to learn English?”

“Not really? Our house was English first, Italian second whenever possible, so I picked both up pretty quick.”

“That’s so cool! I took Spanish in high school, but I really only remember how to ask about the library. Donde está la biblioteca?” They laugh at his poor pronunciation. “So, how was your day?”

“It was good! Very productive; with all the meetings today, I finally had enough time to finish my program review slides! So tomorrow, I can fully focus on outfitting the last three jets. The team up here understood the upgrade really quickly, which is encouraging. It means the training pipeline that Dave put in place is working.”

“That’s good. What uh- what are you doing now?” Bradley’s mouth goes dry as he watches Mary unbutton her shirt, slipping it off to reveal a white camisole that clings to her in all the right places.

“Some of the people I worked with in Florida are here for training and program review prep! And we finally all have a free evening, so we’re going to dinner! I want to wear that shirt tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to get makeup on it while I’m retouching.”

“That sounds fun.” He can hear how rough his voice is, heart thumping when he watches her eyes dart to his, a light pink appearing on the apples of her round cheeks.

“How was your day?”

He tucks an arm behind his head, watching her freshen her makeup and telling her about the antics the Dagger Squad had gotten up to without her. It had been a light day; everyone got grounded due to rain, so Cyclone had them act as guinea pigs for a new training regiment the Navy is considering. They had, of course, gotten too competitive about it and completely over-performed the expected standards. Admiral Simpson was so frustrated that he let them go early, banning them from his sight for the rest of the day.

“He really swore at you guys?!” Mary laughs, swiping something shiny over her lips.

“He did! And he did that thing where he gets so mad his face turns red, and it looks like that vein in his neck is going to rupture!”

“You guys are going to kill that man.”

“It’s Mav’s fault. He taught us the right buttons to push.” Bradley shrugs when Mary raises a doubtful eyebrow at him, a laugh threatening to break through.

“I only half believe that some of you are quite annoying all on your own.”

“Wow, hurtful.”

She giggles at his dramatic chest grab. “I didn’t name names; if you took offense, that’s your own fault. Does my makeup look okay? Any places need fixing?”

Mary holds the tablet up to her face, closing her eyes to show off her makeup. Bradley takes the quiet moment to admire her. She’s never really been one to wear much makeup, but every time she does, it just enhances her beauty.

“You look great.” He holds back all the compliments and praise he wants to shower her with, reminding himself they’re not quite there yet, choosing to add some helpful feedback instead. “You do have some mascara on your right eyelid, though.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll clean that up when I change.” She walks over to the closet, pulling out two dresses. “Which one for dinner?”

“The red one.” He answers with zero hesitation. He loves red on her; the color always looks so good against her tanned skin.

She hums, holding the dress against herself and looking in the mirror. “Yeah, good choice. I’m gonna ch-”

Mary shrieks as a door flies open, and Harvard comes bursting in. “Are you ready yet?”

“Brigham! You’re only supposed to use that for emergencies!”

“I’m hungry, and I want to get going.”

“That is not an emergency! What if I was naked?!”

“I could hear Rooster’s big mouth; I knew you weren’t naked. C’mon! Get changed. I want to eat!”

Bradley sits there baffled as Mary throws the dress he didn’t pick at Harvard’s head, snapping at him to hang it up before slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Harvard does and then takes Mary’s seat, waving at Bradley with a big grin on his face, completely unaware of how Bradley is reeling inside. “Hey, man! What’s up? How’re you?”

He doesn’t break to let Rooster answer, rambling on about his week and the mentoring program Cyclone had sent him to work on. Bradley can only let it go on so long before he bursts. “How did you get in?”

At that exact moment, Mary reappears, the red fabric highlighting her tan and accentuating her curves, even better than he remembered it from the night they met. “We ended up with adjoining rooms.”

“We’re keeping them unlocked for emergency purposes, aka so I can make sure she actually has some fun while we’re here.” Harvard proudly announces.

“I was swindled; he’s got very convincing puppy dog eyes.” She ushers him out of her chair so she can slip her shoes on. “It’s like the little brother I never wanted.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

Mary looks at Bradley and rolls her eyes. “And yet he refuses to leave. Go grab your wallet and the keys so we can get going.”

They both ignore Brigham’s muttered complaints as he heads to his room, focusing on each other.

“You look beautiful, honey.” Bradley says lowly once their friend is gone, like if he’s quiet enough with his compliments, then their just friends for now promise won’t be broken.

She looks at him through her lashes, putting her earring on and answering just as lowly. “Thank you. You look handsome.”

“Even with my hair sticking up?”

“Even then, dolcezza.” She hums. A yell from next door interrupts them before he can ask what she called him. “I gotta go, or we’ll be late for dinner. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Have fun, be safe.”

“Hello?” Bradley grumbles into the receiver, not appreciating being woken up after it took almost an hour to fall asleep.

“I can’t see you, Bradley; turn the light on.”

He pulls the phone back, pleasantly surprised to find Mary staring back at him. She’s showered and propped her phone against something, her brown eyes looking sleepy as she snuggles under the covers. A wave of longing hits him; she looks so soft and sweet. He wants nothing more than to be there with her.

“Sorry I woke you up.” She apologizes as he flips the light on and stands his phone on his bedside table.

“S’okay. Did you have a good time with your friends?”

“Yeah…” She sighs, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “It was great! I haven’t seen them since I left last year. We drank so much wine, which happens every time we let Ron pick the restaurant.”

“You tipsy, honey?”

“Think so.” She giggles, burying her face in her pillow for a second. “But it’s okay. Brigham drove, and he made sure I didn’t twist my ankle in those sandals.”

“Did he complain about it?”

“The whole time, he’s a good guy.” She blinks at his annoyed grumble. “Are you jealous? It’s okay if you are, but you don’t have to be. He really is like a brother. Besides, you’re the only sexy Dagger. Like, you’re all ridiculously attractive - statistically, only one or two of you should be hot, and somehow you all are; someone should study the probability of that - but you’re the only one I think is sexy.”

Bradley feels his jaw drop at her admission. He wants to stop her and talk about the fact that she thinks he’s sexy, but she’s steamrolling ahead on a different topic.

“I’m so excited to get home! It’s Annie’s birthday on Saturday, so I get to watch her run around with all her little friends from preschool. It’s gonna be so cute!” She coos, her smile wide.

“You’re gonna need a few Advil after listening to all that screaming.”

“Probably, but it’ll be nice to see her have fun on her birthday.”

“Hey, speaking of birthdays. I was thinking we should do something for your birthday on Sunday since I’ll be gone on the actual day.”

“You remember my birthday?”

“Of course I do, March 14th - Pi Day. And if I did my math correctly, you’re going to be 34.”

“That’s right.” Her answer is just above a whisper.

He can’t describe the way Mary is looking at him; her eyes are big and glassy, and there’s something in her expression he just can’t quite recognize.

“I was thinking we’d spend an evening together - just the two of us - and I’ll make dinner for you.”

“That’s so sweet, Bradley, but I don’t know if I can accept. That’s a lot of work.”

“No, it’s not. Not if I’m doing it for you.”

“Bradley… that plan isn’t very just friends.” Her voice is quiet, shy.

“I know. But I promise, this is completely different than the dinner I promised you after I get back in May. It’s not a date like that’s going to be. So whatdya say? Gonna let me make you dinner?”

“Only if I’m bringing dessert.”

“Nope, it’s your birthday. You’re not bringing dessert.”

Mary’s eyebrows scrunch as she sits up to get closer to the camera, the covers slipping down to reveal her nightgown. Bradley swallows hard. He knows she’s not doing it on purpose - doesn’t think she is anyway - but the pink fabric drapes across her skin in the most tantalizing way. He watches the strap slip down her shoulder, feeling weaker with every millimeter it moves. It makes him want to give in to her, but he stays strong, insisting that she’s not allowed to bring food to her own birthday dinner.

“Fine. Am I allowed to bring wine?”

He thinks for a second. “That’s okay, as long as that’s all you bring.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Alright, smartass. Time for bed.” He lays back down, watching as she gets comfortable.

Mary hums, fighting against her eyes that are trying to slip close. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Course. Good night, honey.”

The last thing he sees before she hangs up is her pretty face, a sleepy smile on her lush lips, and her dark hair spread out on the white hotel pillows. “Night, dolcezza. Sleep well.”

The screen goes dark, and Bradley smiles back at his own reflection. It had taken some trial and error, but he had looked up what dolcezza meant while she was at dinner.

Dolcezza: Sweetheart or Honey (literally: sweetness; considered old-fashioned)

Mary’s anxiety has been eating away at her all day. From the moment she woke up, to getting ready two hours early because she was worried about being late, to this very second. The combination of nerves and excitement has her entire body vibrating. Her hand even shook a little when she lifted it to knock, thankful that she had tucked the wine safely into her canvas bag.

It’s just dinner with Bradley. There’s nothing to be nervous about.

She’s been telling herself that since accepting his invitation, but she can’t fool her own heart. Bradley inviting her over so he can make a birthday dinner for her because he’s going to be gone on her actual birthday? She knows this means more for them than just dinner.

More than just friends.

She’s beginning to regret asking that they wait to go on a date until he gets back from this deployment. He was so kind and understanding when she explained and had been taking everything at the pace she requested. But an itch is starting to form, one she can’t scratch by herself.

An itch that can only soothed by Bradley’s lips pressed to hers. By his big hands cradling her face. By his strong body pinning hers to the bed. By the two of them sharing a bed at night. Now that she’s had a slice what it would be like to be with him, she’s desperate for more. Just the thought of how he might taste-

You have got to calm down. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath.

Mary follows her own instructions, trying to practice the Lamaze breathing she learned at Danielle’s birthing classes, the ones she attended when they weren’t sure what Reuben’s schedule would look like. She’s smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of her shirt when the door opens.

Why the fuck did I say we should be just friends for now?

Bradley looks gorgeous. There’s no other word to describe it. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up and hugging his arms, the soft fabric stretched across his broad shoulders. He’s wearing her favorite pair of jeans, the light-wash ones that cup his ass just right. And he’s gotten a trim, his curls slightly shorter than the last time she saw him in person.

As a familiar aroma wafts past his tall frame, his flushed cheeks make her wonder if it’s because he’s been cooking or because of her. She hopes it’s because of her.

“Hi. Happy birthday, Mariella.”

She loves it when Bradley says her full name. His pink lips curving around the letters, the syllables effortlessly dripping from his mouth. He even develops the tiniest Italian accent, an unconscious effect of her name. Her heart pounds with the care he always uses with her name, the respect.

“Thanks, Bradley.” She’s momentarily taken off guard when he pulls her into his strong chest but is reluctant to pull back from his warm hug. “Whatever you’re making smells good.”

“Thank you! I think you’re gonna like it.”

Mary’s smile widens as he takes her bag while she slips her shoes off. “Yeah? What are we having?”

“Oh, that’s a surprise - you’ll just have to wait a little bit and see. Have a seat at the table, and I’ll pour you a glass of this wine you brought.”

She slips into a dining room chair and watches as he opens the wine, bobbing his head to the music coming from the record player across the room. He dramatically sniffs the cork, and the cheeky smile he shoots over his shoulder makes her laugh.

“Something funny, Miss Mary?” Bradley saunters around the counter peninsula, handing over a stemless wine glass.

“Nothing, just unaware I was in the presence of a sommelier. Did you taste the peach the label talked about?”

“I did; I also picked up on notes of lime. Very delicious pinot grigio you selected for tonight.”

“The Navy’s amazing reading skills in action.” She smirks at the confused tilt of his head. “It’s a sauvignon blanc, Bradley.”

He throws his head back as he laughs. “Shit! They all taste the same to me.”

“Me too.” She admits as he checks on the food, warmth blooming in her chest at the domesticity of the scene. All the anxiety from earlier suddenly seems ridiculous; she’s never felt more comfortable with a man. “Which drives Dani insane because apparently there’s a lot of differences.”

“Wine is wine! You know, like Mr. Incredible when he tries to do the math homework?” Bradley jokes as he sets salad and bread on the table. “Could you dish out the salad while I serve the pasta?”

Mary is slicing the loaf of sourdough when Bradley sets a bowl of pasta at seat. His chest brushes her back, and he squeezes her hip as he moves to his seat, murmuring a low thanks when she puts bread on his plate. She loses her breath as she sits back down, her heart racing when she sees what he’s made.

“Pasta e piselli?”

“It’s your favorite.”

“You remember that?”

“What’s your favorite?”

Mary perks up at the question, happy that Bradley is so interested in what she has to say. “Pasta e piselli, which is just pasta and peas. But it’s so good and filling and comforting.”

“Do you make it a lot?”

“I don’t actually, Amelia, even though it’s very easy to make.” She sends a conspiratory wink to her, getting a big smile in return. “It’s one of those recipes I break out for a special dinner or when I need a pick-me-up meal.”

“Special dinner? You ever make it for a date?”

The question stops her cold. She knows Amelia catches the way her face drops, a shocked expression she can’t quite control. One of her worst qualities, according to her mother. She can feel pity radiating from the young girl standing on the end of the cart, feeling sad for the pathetic thirty-three-year-old woman who can’t understand when a man just thinks of her as a friend.

Her throat feels acidic, swallowing the tears that threaten to show themselves. She feels so stupid, because up until that question, she would have sworn Bradley was flirting with her. She should know better by now. She’s not someone that men find desirable. She’s fat and awkward and bad at flirting.

Mary stutters out an answer, some bullshit about commitment, before focusing on Amelia, who interrupts to talk about cupcakes. She takes advantage of the distraction, using it to move them toward the cashiers and taking the first chance to get away from the siblings. She can’t help but feel even more heartbroken when Bradley offers to carry her groceries. He’s such a good guy. It’s not his fault she’s so pathetic and convinced herself a man like Bradley could want someone like her.

“That’s sweet, but I’ve got it. Been doing this all by myself for years now! Enjoy your pizza, guys!” She gives a poor excuse of a wave, her smile sad as she thinks about how true her statement is.

She has been doing it by herself for years. All alone - no partner, no roommate, no help - since she graduated college. Her best friends usually thousands of miles away, limited contact with her family in New York, only a few friends in Missouri. And then, in Florida, just when she had started to get friendly with people besides the admiral she worked with, she had gotten the job in San Diego and moved, leaving that budding life behind.

She should probably be thankful that Bradley didn’t press more after Amelia interrupted. That he didn’t ask her to help him make the recipe for whatever lucky woman he had in mind when he asked about making it for a date. Because she would have said yes, desperate to spend time with the man she had a crush on.

Well, that’s gonna stop now righ now,  she decides as she sends one last small smile to Bradley and Amelia, trudging out to her Jeep and letting herself cry for a few seconds once the groceries are loaded. Driving home with tears leaking down her cheeks as her favorite sad Taylor Swift song plays on repeat.

“Of course I do.” His socked feet brush her own, and he reaches over to grab her hand.” You said you would only make it for someone who was committed to you.”

Her heart races at the implication of his words.

I’m committed to you.

“You asked if I would make this for a date.” Bradley nods. “This isn’t a date.”

“It’s not a date.” He confirms, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“It’s only been a week, I’m not-”

“I know, Mary.” He gently cuts her off. “It’s not a date; I just wanted to make something special for your birthday.”

She tries to swallow around the lump in her throat, overwhelmed by the sweet and thoughtful man sitting beside her. Compared to her previous relationship attempts, Bradley keeps surpassing her expectations by leaps and bounds. She knows it’s not fair to compare them, to keep waiting for him to act like them. He’s not them.

He is so much better.

Bradley is kind and caring. He listens to her, really takes in what she’s saying, doesn’t just nod as the words come out of her mouth. The slightest brush of his skin against hers sets her on fire. He makes her feel safe; she’s never once questioned his intentions or felt uneasy while in the car with him.

Logically, Mary knows the beautiful man in front of her really does care about her, but it’s still hard to believe they’ve gotten here. That they’re here, having this not-date that is so clearly a date. That they’ve confessed their feelings.

“Try some.”

Her stare lingers on his face for another minute, committing his soft expression to memory, before looking down at her bowl.

“It really does look great.” She doesn’t let go of his hand, scooping a bite with her right hand and blowing to cool it down. Bradley’s eyes twinkle as she takes the first bite, his pupils dilating at the involuntary sound that escapes as the flavors melt in her mouth.

No one had made this meal for her since her grandmother passed away twenty years ago. It's like a taste of childhood between the fresh peas and the sharp pecorino cheese.

“Is it good?”

“Well, it’s not Nonna Romano's pasta e piselli, but you did a great job, Bradley. It’s delicious.” She smiles as his face drops in relief, a wide smile replacing his nervous one.

They spend dinner talking and laughing, their legs constantly brushing together as they discuss which post-program review happy hour mixers they should attend. Then, after the leftovers are packed up, Bradley ushers her onto his balcony and plops the two of them on his wicker loveseat, ignoring her protests that she could do the dishes.

“I’ll do them later. Just sit here and relax with me, would ya?”

“Fine.” Mary huffs, shuffling closer until she’s tucked into his side, warm and content under the blanket he grabbed.

The two sit in comfortable silence, cuddled together as they listen to the sounds of the street below and watch the last rays of the sunset slip away. It’s not until the few stars that are actually visible through San Diego’s light pollution appear in the sky that one of them moves.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, chuckling at her tiny, displeased whine when he pulls away. She watches him walk into his apartment, appreciating the long lines of his body.

When the door slides shut, she takes a second to just breathe, the crisp evening air filling her lungs and cooling her warm cheeks as she tries to calm herself down. The butterflies in her storm are waging a war against her, but not in a bad way. It’s not nerves or anxiety that’s making her stomach flip.

It’s happiness.

It’s Bradley.

An involuntary laugh escapes at the realization. Mary presses the blanket against her face, muffling the excited giggles she can’t control. Giddy like a schoolgirl with her first real crush. She brings the blanket down at the sound of the door opening; her cheeks are sore from smiling so big but they stretch even more at the sight in front of her.

Bradley walking towards her, singing Happy Birthday with a slice of cheesecake in one hand and his phone in the other. He carefully sits back down, handing over the plate to light the candle.

“Happy birthday to you!”

Mary can’t look away from the man sitting next to her. Her heart is so full she could cry. She’s never been one to make a big fuss about birthdays. Usually spends the day working and enjoying her colleagues' happiness at the treats she brought to share. Treating herself to dinner out and maybe some dessert before calling her best friends to chat and catch up, laughing through their awful rendition of Happy Birthday.

The effort Bradley has put in has her on the brink of happy tears. Not only did he remember her favorite dinner months after she mentioned it once, but he put in the time to actually make it. He’s done all the work himself and hasn’t let her lift a finger. Something she appreciates more than he could ever imagine. Growing up, there was never a day where she was allowed to not help. Every special day of her - birthday, graduation - ended with her in the kitchen, putting leftovers away and washing dishes while her brothers got to have fun. And on top of all that, she knows he asked Dani or Reuben for help because he’s stuck a candle in a slice of chocolate raspberry swirl cheesecake - her favorite.

His soft voice interrupts her thoughts. “Make a wish, honey.”

I hope we never get tired of each other. I hope we grow old together. I hope we love each other forever.

She keeps eye contact with him as she blows the candle out, hoping he understands she’s wishing for him.

For them.

Bradley stops recording and drops his phone on the table without looking, scooting closer to her with a hungry look in his eyes. It’s clear as day how much he wants her, even in the low light of the balcony, and it sends shivers up her spine.

“What did you wish for?” His voice is rough compared to a few seconds ago, like there’s gravel in his throat.

Mary’s eyes flicker between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide which one she wants to look at more. “I can’t say, or it might not come true.” His mouth wins the battle when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Would we?” Her heart kicks into overdrive as he leans closer, his right hand pushing hair out of her face while the other slips around her back, tugging her closer.

“Thank you for this, it was perfect.”

Mary leans in, her breath hitching when the tips of their noses brush. Her free hand runs up his chest, appreciating the soft sweater before dipping into his curls. Bradley presses in even further, the small dessert plate between them the only thing keeping them apart.

“Of course. Happy Birthday, dolcezza.”

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[wisteriagoesvroom]

unnecessarily specific headcanons for college!AU f1 drivers, part 2

part 1 available here

(and now with more gender diversity because it’s my AU and why not)

pierre

- major: entrepreneurship

- attending on a sports scholarship. is on the diving team

- birth name Pascale but she hates it, someone called her Pierre years ago as a joke (after the founder of the modern olympics) and it stuck

- met charles as a kid on a highscool exchange scuba diving trip and they’ve been best friends ever since

- has made a habit of introducing herself as “from Rouen, not Paris”, so much so that the rest of the gang groans and says it for her every time someone new arrives and she has to make an introduction

- has bars of chocolate stowed in random places. literally all sorts. it’s her bad habit. she and Lando become friends because she hoards good Belgian chocolate (“the real stuff not this Americane or Britishe nonsense”)

- got into a huge disagreement with max over a second year group project. people could hear the dispute from several rooms down in the library. they were called into the dean’s office and let off with a warning

- claims not to be a good cook but regularly bashes out amazing French home cuisine that has half the dorm in tears

- somehow also finds time to snowboard and run half marathons during summer and winter breaks

yuki

- major: he doesn’t go to the university but is in the city culinary school. he is Pierre’s friend and shows up on campus mostly on Fridays and weekends

- the origin story of their friendship changes all the time because they lie about it. it becomes a running gag and nobody knows the actual truth (the truth is they both swiped right on tinder in freshman year, but actually worked out to be better friends than a couple)

- disgusted by most campus food. will bring his own bentos to eat on the quad. can magic up dishes out of seemingly nothing. famous for a hack that somehow involves making omurice in a rice cooker. also does a killer savoury soufflé pancake, and deep fried chicken which the gang request every time they get too sloshed. Yuki obliges because he enjoys cooking for people

- actually enjoys anime but gets annoyed when people ask him about it or when people use weeby topics as a conversational opener with him

- learned English from stage-ing in local kitchens and thus swears like a sailor and knows cuss words in three additional languages (Spanish, Italian, French)

- scar on leg in shape of a cow from falling off a skateboard once

- everyone thinks he and Pierre have something going on but at this point it’s purely platonic

- will start a fight if drunk and people make fun of his height

lando

- major: psychology

- openly nonbinary

- performs well in their field of study but is determined to finish their degree so they can fully focus on their budding career in esports. esports alias is quadrant

- dyes their hair different colours constantly, depending on mood. had a phase where it was really orange when they were mad at an overwatch match that ended badly

- self-taught in three different instruments (guitar, piano, recorder for the shits and giggles). is a better DJ than charles and stops charles from taking the aux chord at parties to play his charlie sadboi mixes all the time

- best Instagram stories of the gang. somehow really well curated but authentic at the same time

- will do standup one day for kicks and absolutely murder the set, and then never touch it again

- shockingly good at the game twister. maybe was a gymnast in highschool but doesn’t like to talk about it possibly due to the gender trauma

- is a little bit abrasive and will tease/clown everybody for their shenanigans. but when shit hits the fan is the first person to show up with a big bowl of soup and some tissues and check if the other person is okay and “do you want to talk about it”

guan yu

- major: software engineering

- always seems on the cusp of some academic disaster but pulls through surprisingly well

- rides an e scooter around campus

- people think he’s in the architecture or design school because he always turns out immaculate fits

- is the person to ask everyone during study sessions if anyone wants bubble tea. (he wants bubble tea. he will order for everyone. he has a phone note with everyone’s favourite order. he judges charles for wanting a jasmine tea flavour but with milk. he will patiently explain to max what a bubble tea is, then it becomes one of max’s favourite drinks.)

- despite his academic ups and downs, already has unconditional offers from at least 3 Silicon Valley late-stage startups and all 4 Chinese big tech firms

- will one day do something so revolutionary with AI and visual design, like the next great CAD system or something, that he never has to work again

carla

- major: history of art

- many aliases. aka Carlita. Kylie. Kiki.

- THE it-girl on campus. manicure always immaculate and always in shades of red. boys (and girls, and even the TAs) always want to talk to her but are sooo intimidated

- always posting Instagram photos of her on a plane or holiday even though she’s studying in her room. never lets people know her next move

- people clown her for her major but she is actually really knowledgeable about art and takes it very seriously. her study notes are extremely organized, whether it’s her macbook or flashcards. she is in general good favour with the profs if she would only stop texting in seminars

- dad’s name is on one of the library wings. everyone realises this on the first day and she’s like “yes… i am a nepo baby. anyway where are we meeting later, i have an in with the promoters at this club if we want to go there”

- secret guilty pleasure is playing first person shooter games on her switch and absolutely decimating people. it is her outlet for aggression. she may also have beaten quadrant/lando at overwatch once but won’t tell anyone because playing overwatch messes with her party girl image

- starts a side hustle doing events and ten years after graduation will be extremely successful in this venture

- stress cries often but pulls it together. prone to scream-singing sad Spanish ballads when drunk. surprisingly knows every single word to a decade’s worth of Pitbull songs

[dynamic-k]

Me me has a quetions :3 when did you start writing and where do your ideas come from?

-BK

Ooh, that's a tough one.

Hmm. Well, I know I started getting a like for writing in the 3rd grade. I'd done some random school two-paragraph assignment and Mrs. Meusen, my lovely teacher whom I still remember to this day, had returned everyone's papers with our grades.

And she liked to write custom messages along with the overall score and stars.

She told me in her little markered note at the top of my paper, that my writing was well structured and I make a good author. Something like that, I don't remember exactly how it was phrased, but it was a compliment to my writing.

I have no memory of what I wrote, though. It wasn't significant.

That was probably the first jump-start encouragement I got, though how it affected me in the future was probably subconscious for the most part. It's not the driving force that I remember on a regular basis as "Ah, yes, this event here is what started it all."

That long ago compliment just came to mind when I really started thinking about what the answer to your inquiry was.

My ideas just spawned into existence from my imagination. I was always the kid that found immense joy in reading books and also staring off into space. The wall. The ceiling. Out a window.

I once got lost in space during my 2nd grade Spanish class, while we were doing TESTS.

And I was lost in space, not really looking at what I was looking at... Well, I was apparently looking at someone else's test, lol. Got scolded. XD

My dreams were often the source of cool ideas also. I had entire MOVIES worth of action and everything. Sleeping was always a well anticipated privilege...

I wonder why. 👉👈

I remember my very first fanfiction was written for a comic series, Mega Man by Ian Flynn.

Cool robots, action, adventure, fights, suspense, a whole assortment of my favorite types of things to enjoy from any media, be it novel, comic, or movie.

It was... really bad. My family tells me it was good for my age at the time. The ONE friend I randomly decided to share the old google Docs with also gives me positive feedback, but... ehhhhhh.

There's reasons I haven't continued it further for years. It was pretty bad, in my eyes. I definitely had so much fun writing it though. It was a self-insert, sort of? But with an OC that had cool characteristics I just liked. Not really me, but a character that was an amalgamation of ninja skills, smarts, and powers. And was very much, as the term goes [that I would learn about just a few years later], a "Mary Sue". An overpowered character.

At least, my character still had a plethora of issues, and as the story progressed, I found ways to insert Nora [the aforementioned OC] into problems and lessen the overpowered aspects a bit.

I learned from that work. A lot.

I guess, if anyone is really interested, I can post the links to the old docs. I don't suppose I mind all that much, though I'm warning you all. I ATTEMPTED ROMANCE.

AND IF YOU ALL KNOW ME AND MY CURRENT HABITS... YOU KNOW I SAY ON A REGULAR BASIS THAT I CAN'T WRITE ROMANCE.

It was written by 13-year-old Scarlett. She doesn't exist anymore.

I think I somehow got off topic, why am I talking about my first fanfic...

Anyway!

I wrote a lot of other stories also.

I had originals.

I had fanfics. [My hyperfixation on Beyblade Metal Fusion remains dormant to this day, but I still remember all the ideas I never wrote down yet]

I had dreams that I attempted to normalize and remove dream-weirdness from for story material.

I had school assignments that were fairly tame as far as action, but I kept the docs anyway.

And then I tried to publish stuff.

[By this, I mean, on the Archive. I had technically posted fanfiction before on fanfiction.net but we don't talk about those abominations...]

I was in a Lego Monkie Kid hyperfixation at the time, and was currently on the cliffhanger of season 4. [Before the special came out, I mean.]

And I had a very very vivid dream scenario one night, where my brain decided to imagination its own ending and wrapped up plot for the cliffhanger of season 4.

I decided to post it. And I still have more ideas that I have yet to sort out and add more chapters to the fic, but that was the first published work on the Archive, I think.

And... it was romantic focused, actually. The one OC was a character that fit well into the series, and wasn't just an annoying rendition of overpowered characteristics. (I TELL YOU. I LEARNED FROM "NORA")

And, well, my dreams are good at imaginating romantic scenes. It's just my brain doesn't know how to make it sound good with words yet.

I'll get there... 😅

To get back to the point I seem to keep deviating from as I reminisce over older works and my author journey as a whole: I have come very far.

My first Alan Becker fanfic, was A Second's Tale. Which, until Super Sticks appeared, remained my most popular fic.

It started so SO simply. All I knew was, "NEW HYPERFIXATION GO BRRR!" and "I wanna write a fanfic and post it"

Then it escalated.

The AVA/AVM fandom is still my all-time favorite, and I think it's honestly going to stay that way forever. It's definitely the longest fixation I've ever had.

All my others are dormant, or active in spurts. I have a list of like, 60? 65? fandoms I'm into, lol.

Uhm, anyways, yeah.

That's the summary.

Man, that's another thing I suck at. Summarization.

Look at this long schpiel of words!!

No one gonna read this. XD

TL;DR

I have come far from the 3rd grade.

I still aim to make a difference. Make someone's day with my weird unique sense of humor. Make others inspired. ;]

And my imagination go brrrr for ideas. Dreams are just the best thing ever.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk--