#thank you so much for drawing these and sharing them. and for sharing your fashion knowledge too!!!

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[quin-ns]

Always Forever (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: coriolanus finally lets himself acknowledge that he can’t stand to see you with anyone but him

Tags: (18+), cw: dubcon, cw: noncon, pseudo!incest (not related, reader raised with the snows), dark!coriolanus, pre-mentor era, jealousy/obsession/possessiveness, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, fear of getting caught, lots of drama for my lovely readers

A/N: second coryo fic and it’s somehow longer than the last one lol. only one part. pls read the tags and proceed with caution 🫶

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

“Look at you, you look so pretty!” Tigris beamed, adjusting the straps of your dress. “Doesn’t she, Coryo?”

In his peripheral, Coriolanus could see his cousin had turned to look at him expectantly, but his eyes were already on you. They always had been, and always would be.

“Yes, she does,” he replied without thought.

You faced him with a smile, and Coriolanus couldn’t help the pride that swarmed him just looking at you.

It was because of him that you were in his life, and until the day he died Coriolanus knew it would remain the best decision he ever made.

As children during the war, when he and Tigris would scavenge the streets, Coriolanus stumbled across you. Not much younger than him, huddled behind a pillar, all alone. You had a half a loaf of bread. It wasn’t fresh, but he still didn’t understand where you got it. You tore it in half and shared it with him.

He returned to Tigris with you in tow, his small hand clutching your even smaller one, and his cousin took pity.

She also took the brunt of the consequence for bringing home another mouth to feed, but sacrifices had to be made, didn’t they?

It was worth it. You were worth it to him—to both of them, really.

As you got older, Grandma’am eventually took a liking to you, although Coriolanus wondered if it was because she could see how much he cared for you.

It didn’t matter. Not really. You were part of the family now, even if you did not share the Snow name.

“Thank you, Tigris,” you said sweetly, pulling the older girl into a hug.

It was a big day for both you and Coriolanus. The academy was hosting an event for students to mingle with administration and alumni of the university.

Coriolanus had put on his best outfit—he already knew it was the same one he was going to wear when the Plinth Prize winner was announced in only a few weeks. He was sure it was going to be him.

Tigris had fashioned your dress by hand. Coriolanus was past questioning how she paid for her fine fabrics, but he had an inclination it was the same way they could suddenly afford food some days.

The long dress reminded Coriolanus of freshly fallen snow, the white holding a sense of purity and wealth that his family once had. It had a sense of elegance that you only furthered with donning it, but it lacked an extravagance that would force you to stand out.

It was perfect.

You parted from Tigris to approach Coriolanus. You had a light smile on your face as your hands ran down his black vest, adjusting it.

“We almost match,” you commented, referring to the white shirt beneath said vest. “If only I had something black.”

“Well, I’d let you borrow this, but then we’d be in the same position, only switched,” he teased lightly, drawing a small chuckle from you.

Coriolanus liked when you looked up at him, same as he liked hearing your laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll survive without.” Your hands fell to your sides. “Besides, it definitely looks more handsome on you.”

Hearing those words from you meant more than you’d ever know, and more than he’d let himself acknowledge.

You were so good to him, he couldn’t imagine spending the evening with anyone else.

When he walked into the ballroom of the academy with you on his arm, Coriolanus got a rush of power. Especially when heads turned. Looking at him, looking at you, just looking.

He wondered what the minds behind all those gazing eyes were thinking.

He hoped it was a balanced amount of envy and respect.

“We should find Sejanus, let him know we’re here,” you said, not thinking much of the sentence as you looked around the room, taking in the people and the decor.

Coriolanus thought everything of it, a sourness settling over him. Sejanus was his friend, but Coriolanus wished they hadn’t gotten as close as they did. It was because of his friendship with Sejanus that you met him, and began to develop… feelings for him.

God, Coriolanus hated to even think about it.

When you told him you had begun dating Sejanus, Coriolanus nearly had a heart attack. Then he felt violent. Not towards you. Never towards you.

It wasn’t just because he felt protective of you, or because Sejanus was district, or because Coriolanus knew you were far, far too good for his friend… it was everything. All of that and everything in between.

Before you could find him, Sejanus found you.

He was in a fine black suit, finer than anything Coriolanus owned, and a bright smile appeared on his face at the sight of you.

That was one thing they still had in common. Reverence for you.

“Had to come find my girl before everyone thinks she ditched me,” Sejanus joked, pulling a laugh from you. “Where have you guys been?”

“Making sure we look our best,” you replied, shooting Coriolanus a wink.

If Sejanus wasn’t reaching for you, Coriolanus might’ve smiled.

“Well, you did a wonderful job.”

Coriolanus let you slip away from his side, reluctantly giving you away to Sejanus.

The unfortunate thing was Sejanus was truly a decent person. Not perfect, but decent. Better than most, even if he was beneath you all. You cared nothing for status, and seemed to really like him. He treated you right from what Coriolanus had seen, making disapproval not exactly warranted.

Although, Coriolanus was always going to be incredibly protective of you. He doubted there was a world where he would be pleased with any relationship you found. Your interest in other people was becoming tiresome, truthfully. Did you really even need friends? Or lovers? You had Coriolanus, and he was sure that was enough.

His jaw clenched when you pressed a light kiss to Sejanus’s cheek. It would be much simpler if he was a terrible person. Coriolanus would have an excuse outside of his own selfishness to separate you—which he did not have now.

“Can I ask for this dance?” Sejanus wondered, shooting you a smile. At least he had the awareness to still look anxious.

But you… you grinned. You were too good.

“Well you just asked, so I guess you can,” you started sarcastically, but let him off the hook quickly. “And of course I’ll say yes.”

Sejanus looked relieved, taking your hand in his. You turned to look at Coriolanus, a small bit of guilt in your expression. You clearly hadn’t been planning on leaving his side so soon. You masked it with the same teasing tone you’d used before.

“I won’t be long, don’t get too bored without me, Coryo.”

Coriolanus only smiled for your sake. It fell the moment Senjanus led you away to a small group of other students dancing together.

From the sidelines, Coriolanus watched as Sejanus led you in a slow dance. He tried to avoid his eyes landing on his friend. He didn’t want to view the two of you in the same light as the other couples embracing one another.

Coriolanus tried to remember the first moment he realized how beautiful you were. It was so long ago, it wasn’t something he was even aware he thought so often.

The sun rose in the morning, roses had thorns, and you were beautiful.

It was simple as that.

After a dance and a half, Coriolanus couldn’t take it anymore.

His feet carried him to the dance floor, mind absent as he tried to justify his jealousy as protectiveness. Yes, that’s all he was. Protective. Like an older brother… like what he was supposed to be. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to be.

You and Sejanus were swaying and talking, but as he snuck up on the two of you, Coriolanus couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling in surprise at his presence.

“Coryo!”

“Can I cut in?” Coriolanus requested. His hand itched to rest on your shoulder, but he withheld. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and he briefly wondered if Sejanus sensed that or not.

“All yours,” Sejanus agreed, spinning you by the hand. You turned in a circle, then a half, facing Coriolanus. “I’m going to go find my father, he’s here tonight,” he informed.

“I’ll come find the two of you in a few minutes,” you told Sejanus, who nodded then headed off. Before he did, he looked to Coriolanus and said, “Take good care of her.”

“I always do,” Coriolanus responded easily, because it was the truth. He didn’t need Sejanus telling him that. He’d been there for you long before either of you even knew his friend existed. He looked down to you, taking your hand in his while the other fell to your waist. You looked amused. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes, Coryo,” you replied with a smile. “Better than anyone.”

The slow waltz felt so natural, your movements in tune with his without thought. You two were always like that, always in sync.

“What were you and Sejanus talking about?” Coriolanus wondered, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Nothing important,” you dismissed with a shrug. “Sweet nothings.”

Coriolanus didn’t miss the shy smile appearing on your face. He couldn’t control the frown trying to take over his.

A more thoughtful look crossed your face, your smile faltering.

“Are you happy for me, Coryo?”

Coriolanus blinked.

“I… want to be,” he confessed, eyes scanning your face. It was the truth for the most part. He did want you to be happy, just not with Sejanus.

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. Coriolanus wished he could open your head and investigate every corner of your brain. He wanted to know every thought you had.

“Sejanus is your friend, I would’ve thought…” you swallowed and looked away. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Coriolanus pressed, tilting his head, trying to make you meet his gaze.

When you did, he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You stepped back from him, parting completely.

“I need to find Sejanus. I’ll put in a good word for you about the Plinth Prize with his father.”

Then, you departed, not leaving room for Coriolanus to argue for you to stay.

He would’ve, and you knew that.

The moment you disappeared from his view, Coriolanus went looking. You had moved quickly. He found you across the room, sitting down at a table with Sejanus and Mr. Plinth.

He didn’t approach, he couldn’t make himself look bad in front of Mr. Plinth.

So he watched you talk, and drink, and laugh, and drink some more…

“I can’t believe she’s doing this,” Arachne whispered, suddenly appearing at his side. Coriolanus looked down at her. She was clearly talking about you. He could see the way she flicked her heavily decorated eyes in your direction. “Associating with him was one thing, but… well”—Arachne let out a vicious laugh—“do you think their children will call her “Ma” too?”

Coriolanus felt ill at the thought. Leave it to Arachne to provoke him, to conjure up nightmares he hadn’t even thought of yet himself.

“She’ll come to her senses,” Coriolanus muttered, gritting his teeth.

Arachne rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope so,” she mused, continuing on her way, blood red dress dragging behind her with each step.

Coriolanus looked back to you. He was overwhelmed with nausea as Sejanus grabbed your hand atop the table. Damn Arachne for placing that thought in his head.

He watched as you lifted another glass to your lips, smiling along as Sejanus talked to his father. What was that, your third? Sejanus had yet to say anything to you. He was fine with allowing you to get intoxicated?

Drinking alcohol wasn’t exactly a crime, but Sejanus didn’t know you well enough to know you were inexperienced. The last thing Coriolanus wanted was you making a fool of yourself.

Darker thoughts crept in. Maybe Sejanus was allowing you to inebriate yourself on purpose. The thought of him climbing on top to you made Coriolanus’s blood boil. His fingers twitched to form a fist, and his jaw clenched even tighter.

In that moment, Coriolanus decided he wouldn’t let Arachne’s mockery come true.

He had to help you. You needed his protection, even when you didn’t know it. You needed him. You always would. Coriolanus could remind you, then perhaps you'd see you didn’t even need Sejanus at all.

When you left the table—Coriolanus wasn’t sure why—he saw his opportunity. He approached you quickly, finding no problem in catching your arm and leading you away from the party. Away from all the people, where it could just be the two of you.

Out a door, down a long, empty corridor until the two of you ended up outside in the school’s garden. It was isolated from the party, you’d be safer here.

“Coryo? What—“

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, cutting you off. He released you to stand across from you, leaving you to lean back against the stone wall behind you. “I saw how much you were drinking.”

You looked up at him, confused, but not frightened. If anyone else had handled you the way he did, you surely would’ve been. But you trusted him. You always had.

“Did I drink a lot?” you asked, a slight pout on your lips. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh.” So, you were okay. That was good, wasn’t it? “I thought maybe you needed rescuing,” he admitted, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or not.

You chuckled a little and the sound washed over Coriolanus, bringing him a sense of relief from all his previous tension.

“My hero,” you said lightly, smiling up at him. You were always smiling at him, but Coriolanus no longer wondered if he was worthy of it all. “You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

Coriolanus stepped closer. His hand rose, his fingertips trailing the outline of your face. Someone so pretty, so sweet, had to be careful in a cruel world like this.

“What would you do without me?” he proposed, not expecting an answer.

You didn’t need one, because you never would have to find out.

He’d follow you to the end of the Earth, just as he knew you’d follow him. You needed each other. You didn’t need Tigris or Grandma’am and especially not Sejanus, but without Coriolanus, who would you even be? Coriolanus couldn’t imagine his world without you in it. Not even if he tried.

Staring at you now, Coriolanus heard the voice in the back of his mind begin to whisper. The one that urged his protectiveness, knowing it was fueled by possession. The one he would use all his power to silence.

Something new had overcome him, watching you galavant around with Sejanus. Well, not new, but clear. Coriolanus finally had clarity. That’s what it was. That was how he finally acknowledged what had so long been lingering in his peripheral, just on the edge of his mind, waiting for the right moment.

Was this the right moment?

He made no effort to banish his most repressed thoughts. For once, he let them win.

Coriolanus leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. Gentle, testing the waters. You did not react right away. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily a good sign, but that didn’t stop him from using it as an excuse to deepen the kiss.

His other hand found your face, holding you against him as he nipped at your lip, begging you to invite him in.

Your reaction was delayed, and Coriolanus thought maybe, just maybe, you had been thinking the same thing he had all along. That the faint taste of alcohol on your lips meant you were feeling more open to exploring this with him, and that all you needed was a nudge in the right direction.

But no, you were turning your head, making his lips part from yours.

Coriolanus faltered, but you still did not speak. Your breaths were clipped—flustered and confused. He could understand that. His own heart was racing, although adrenaline and need were to blame for that.

“Coryo…” you whispered so softly he nearly didn’t hear it. “What are you doing?”

Leave it to you to not get angry with him. Or even upset. At this point he questioned if you were even capable of feeling anger at him.

Coriolanus stepped closer, making you have to tilt your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think I can share you,” he confessed under his breath, but with conviction. “I know I can’t and you… you don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

You swallowed, eyes looking down. “Sejanus—“

“Doesn’t know you like I do,” Coriolanus finished, one hand still holding your cheek, tilting your head, making you meet his eye again. “Seeing you with him… he’s not good enough for you.”

“I thought you were above judging him for being district.” You sounded so disappointed in him.

“I don’t care that he’s district, he’s not good enough because no one will ever be,” Coriolanus corrected, imploring you to understand.

With a light sigh, his eyes fell shut. Gently, he leaned to press his forehead to yours. He blindly reached for your hands, and found them in each of his with no problem.

“I would not be happy seeing you with anyone else,” Coriolanus confessed, voice low. “Not anyone but me.”

You inhaled slightly. Was it that big of a shock?

He gave you no chance to voice it because Coriolanus was capturing your lips again, passion erupting in his veins.

His mind was clouded with thoughts that fought for center attention, his built up desires controlling him as his hands and lips cascaded down your body. Your neck, your chest, your stomach—

“Coryo, what are you doing?” you questioned when he began to move lower.

“Shh, don’t worry,” he cooed, dismissing your concern.

Coriolanus finally fell to his knees in front of you. He’d never take such a humiliating position for anyone else. But with you, it didn’t feel humiliating. It was exhilarating, knowing he was on his knees worshiping you, but he still held all the power. It was nearly perfect.

You gasped a little when he gripped your right leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder. More of your weight rested back against the wall, unable to stand straight on just one leg.

He looked upward, watching your face the entire time as he pushed your dress up around your hips, revealing your underwear to him.

Coriolanus was so close and you had yet to move.

Words couldn’t find their way to his lips. It was all too overwhelming in the best way. His heart slamming against his rib cage was a welcome feeling, and so was the pressure on his knees.

You bucked away before his mouth could reach your core. Coriolanus didn’t think much of it. He had a lot of other images rushing through his brain. Ones he wanted to become reality.

He scooted forward and tried again, this time making contact with the layer of fabric separating him from your most intimate spot.

Coriolanus heard a choked noise from you as he ran his tongue across the front of your underwear.

Right away, he wanted more.

His hands found the material acting as a barrier and he gripped it then pulled, tearing it from you one leg at a time, exposing you to him.

Before it could fall to the ground, he caught the shredded material and stuffed it into his pocket.

He felt a bit guilty, knowing how little you all had when it came to clothing, but he wanted to do this the right way. Coriolanus wanted nothing blocking him from showing you how good he could make you feel.

As much as his eyes were tempted to linger, impatience got the best of him.

He made contact again, licking a stripe across your bare cunt. Once he got a taste, Coriolanus couldn’t hold back.

His mouth latched onto you, tongue sliding between your folds, drawing a stifled moan from you. You reached for his head, trying to knock him away, but Coriolanus persisted. His will easily overtook yours. You weren’t going to take this away from him, not when he could make you want it just as bad.

He held onto the leg over his shoulder, gripping your flesh, surely leaving bruises in his wake. He held the skirt of your dress up with the other hand. With his mouth, he devoured you. Lapping at your core like a man starved, even more so when wetness began to form.

This wasn’t something Coriolanus had done, but he knew you better than anyone. He was sure he could figure out your body. He’d dreamt about it long enough, making you fall apart for him in such an intimate way.

He soon found that to be the truth when in only a matter of minutes your body was tensing. He continued to drag his tongue across you, giving every bit of you his full attention. He liked the way your thighs quivered when his tongue brushed your clit, it gave him an excuse to hold you tighter.

Your whole body flinched suddenly, but he shoved your hips back, pinning you to the wall as he brought you to the edge

His own pants felt constricted as his senses were overwhelmed by you. Your taste, your scent, the sound of your choked down moans, your hands smacking the wall (unsure what else to do), the feel of you against his tongue and how your leg strained over his shoulder, and the sight of you when he looked up through his lashes… god, you were magnificent.

You whimpered from above, teeth digging into your bottom lip, as he finally made you come undone.

Coriolanus held you still, relishing in the way you finally jolted into his touch instead of away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were the stuff of dreams in the most literal sense.

Your head tilted back against the wall, your ragged breaths causing your chest to rise and fall in an unsteady pattern. Your leg, still draped over his shoulder, was tense, even as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

A wide grin spread across Coriolanus’s face when you shivered. He couldn’t help himself. He nearly chuckled at your state, but then your hand moved to rake through his wavy locks. The sound caught in his throat as you tugged him away, finally looking down at him. The all consuming pleasure had faded into something more composed.

Coriolanus could tell how much of an effort you were making, and as your eyes struggled to focus, he briefly wondered how strong your drinks were.

“I’d like to go home now,” you said slowly, conscious not to let your voice falter.

You allowed him to help get both to your feet on the ground, but you did not touch him for the rest of the night, even when he tried to reach for you.

He was still hard behind the confines of his pants, imagining the slickness between your thighs that was the result of his actions. As you walked back through the ballroom, it took everything he had to not push you back against a nearby wall. People be damned, he wanted you more than anything.

He would press his chest to your back—no, he’d make you face him. Coriolanus wanted access to your lips so he could kiss you as much as he liked, even swallow down your moans when he lifted your dress around your stomach and—

A shiver of excitement coursed through Coriolanus’s body. What would your darling Sejanus think if he knew what just transpired? If he knew it was only for your dignity that Coriolanus wasn’t fucking you against the wall hard enough that you forgot where you even were?

You silently bid the party a farewell, forgetting to say goodbye to Sejanus (Coriolanus made no attempts to remind you). You continued to ignore him, hardly speaking and not even looking his way. Not as you walked from the school to the apartment. Stumbling up the stairs, you only spoke to claim you were fine as you gripped the handrail for dear life. Then you went back to silence as you traveled from the front door to your bedroom and locked the door.

Coriolanus only found out about the door because he’d tried to follow you in, but the door knob did not budge. You never used your lock.

Even if you weren’t ready to finish what had been started, it was still incredibly cold. Were you really upset enough to deprive him of your presence until the morning?

“What’s going on with you?” Coriolanus asked through the layer of wood. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue as it traced his bottom lip, waiting for your response. “Can we talk? Can you open the door?”

He gripped the knob tighter and tried again. It wasn’t going to suddenly unlock, but something urged him to prove it.

There was a faint thud as his forehead fell to the door, much as it had to yours not too long ago.

“Can I at least say goodnight to you?”

Again, no response.

He swallowed. Cleared his throat.

Again.

“Please?”

If they could afford to fix it, Coriolanus would break the door down.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood outside your door before begrudgingly going to his own room.

He laid in his bed and fished the underwear from his pocket. Your scent still lingered on them, and it was enough to fuel his imagination as he unbuttoned his pants and pretended his own hand on his cock was yours.

Even after finishing, Coriolanus had a nearly sleepless night. His mind was plagued with memories of his lips on yours, your dress bunched around your hips, him on his knees with his mouth on your cunt. He’d never forget the sounds you made.

When the sun rose, he returned to your door, only to find it still locked. He didn’t even knock, just simply grabbed the door knob and twisted.

You always woke up early for school, putting yourself together in a way that could reflect wealth that you did not truly have. Coriolanus was sure you did it for his sake, knowing how much appearances mattered to him.

You were good to him like that.

If only you’d let him in now.

The laugh that escaped him lacked humor. It was a bitter, frustrated sound.

His hands rested on his hips, his own fingertips pressing in. It was that or gripping the door knob and if he touched that thing again and found it locked…

“This isn’t funny anymore, Y/N,” Coriolanus called through the door. “If there’s a problem we can talk about it. Just stop acting like a child.”

“What, did she steal your blazer again?” Tigris wondered, appearing out of nowhere. Despite her voice being soft with sleep, Coriolanus was still startled.

“No, just a minor disagreement,” Coriolanus replied, quick on his feet as always. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure we’ll talk it out.”

He emphasized the word ‘talk’, hoping you’d hear him through the door. If you did, he wouldn’t know. Tigris, on the other hand, just nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The smile he gave his cousin on her way was forced. She couldn’t tell that his teeth were clenched together, which was for the best.

A thought dawned on him. You could just be testing him.

Coriolanus knocked on the door and waited, like he’d just solved your puzzle.

What was that thing about insanity—trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

“You’re going to have to come out of your room at some point,” he reminded, trying his best to make it not sound like a warning.

Coriolanus wasn’t used to being frustrated with you. You were usually his relief from people who made him feel this way. He didn’t understand why everything changed all of the sudden.

You’d enjoyed yourself while he got what he wanted. Why was that so bad?

You had always been an enigma, but Coriolanus felt as if he’d come to understand you—that he was the only one who did or would.

Sejanus would never know you the way he did, that was for certain.

From in your room, Coriolanus heard movement. Your dresser opening, maybe. It didn’t matter. You were awake. And ignoring him.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake.” The neediness in his voice was embarrassing. No one else could make him resort to this. “I can hear you. Are you coming out?”

“What is going on?” Grandma’am questioned, standing at the end of the hall. “You aren’t dressed for school. We can’t have you being late.”

Coriolanus looked down at himself. He’d gone to sleep in the outfit he’d worn the night before, and still wore it now.

Arguments died in his throat. You and Coriolanus walked to the academy together. You’d have to come out and talk to him. Grandma’am would drive you crazy if you missed a day of classes.

In record time, Coriolanus was in his uniform.

He might’ve been quick, but apparently you were quicker. As he opened the door to his room, he heard the front door shut.

“Whatever you did, Coryo, apologize,” Tigris advised when he chased the sound of your exit.

Coriolanus just looked at her. Why on Earth would he do that? He’d done nothing wrong.

Down the stairs and out of the building, Coriolanus finally—finally—got a glimpse of you. A flash of red as you turned the corner, setting off down the sidewalk.

It took nothing for him to catch up to you.

“How are you feeling?” he wondered first, recalling your drunken state. “I was worried about you.”

“Were you?” you challenged, eyes forward.

It was good to hear your voice, but Coriolanus furrowed his brows at your tone. You had no reason to be this rude.

“Of course I was, Y/N. How can you even ask me that?” His hand dropped to your shoulder, only for you to shrug it away. “What is wrong with you?”

You looked at him, finally, but the emotion in your gaze… there was something wrong with it. Something distant, lacking the affection those beautiful eyes of yours usually held for him.

Coriolanus swallowed.

“Are you really going to be like this? Is it because of Sejanus? You don’t have to be with him anymore.”

You turned your head forward.

“Leave me alone, I’d like to walk in silence.”

Since when had you become so spiteful? Coriolanus didn’t like it. It evoked something similar in him. He leaned down, getting near your ear.

“You liked it, I know you did,” he hissed out. Coriolanus hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, but you were being completely unfair to him right now. “You can’t lie to me.”

Despite the way you shuddered, your jaw remained clenched. You not talking to him was more infuriating than if you had screamed in his face. At least that way he could tell what you were thinking. But no, you wouldn’t allow him to be privy to your inner thoughts, no matter how much effort he put into prying them from you.

It wasn’t a conversation for the public, even Coriolanus knew that, so when you got to the academy a few steps ahead of him, he bit his tongue.

“What did you do to piss off your sister?” Clemensia asked him in a whisper in class. “You’re usually attached at the hip walking in.”

The way she called you his sister felt wrong in a way that it hadn’t before. Even if he never thought it fit when people would say that or assume it, something had shifted.

And was it that obvious? Coriolanus hadn’t even brought it up. He’d simply been a few steps behind you into the classroom. You’d gone to your desk without a word. Was that strange to everyone else too? It was validating, in a way, to know your behavior was, in fact, targeted and odd, but it also made him wonder what the two of you appeared to be from an outside perspective.

“It’s nothing,” Coriolanus lied to her under his breath, keeping his eyes on his paper.

“So you didn’t get into a fight?”

Coriolanus’s brows curved down. He glanced her way.

“A fight?”

“Arachne and Festus saw you pull her away from Sejanus and disappear somewhere last night.”

It was mostly the truth, but she said it so nonchalantly. She couldn’t know what happened after you disappeared. Coriolanus hadn’t seen a single person lay their eyes on either of you in that private moment.

“I get it,” she continued. “I wouldn’t want to be associated with someone from the districts either. She’s not thinking about how she’ll be perceived, or you. Don’t let her drag you down.”

Coriolanus just listened, the night flashing through his mind. No one could’ve known, there was no way.

He quickly corrected the hypocrisy in his own mind. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just private. No one else deserved to see you in that state—no one but him.

“We’re fine,” Coriolanus told her. “And her and Sejanus aren’t together anymore.”

Clemensia smirked to herself. “Good.”

Word spread quickly, and with the way you avoided Sejanus—a byproduct of you avoiding Coriolanus—everyone believed it. The final nail was the way you failed to appear at lunch. It got under Sejanus’s skin, causing him to question the state of your relationship without you to answer any said questions.

Truthfully, Coriolanus hadn’t seen anything as amusing in a long while, but your absence weighed on him, too.

The walk home alone was dreadful without you. Even in the morning when you had ignored him, it was better than you being completely gone.

When he got home, your door was shut. How quickly had you left your classes, how fast had you walked, all to avoid him?

This was growing old very, very quickly.

Grandma’am was on the roof with her roses, and Tigris seemed to be missing from the apartment. It was only because of that that Coriolanus devised a way to get into your room.

Why he didn’t think of picking the lock before, Coriolanus supposed it was because he thought you’d give in quicker and let him get the better of you. You were usually weak to him, allowing him to get his way without a problem. You had before.

“Last chance,” Coriolanus called through the locked door. He almost thought that would be enough. He wanted you to open it of your own will. “You can’t avoid me forever, just let me in.”

No such luck.

You looked surprised when he forced the door open, as if you really believed he would just take the loss. You were supposed to know him better than that.

You’d been sitting on your bed in pajamas, evidently already done with the day. Your legs were criss-crossed with a textbook in your lap. You looked up at him, a questioning expression taking over your features.

“What are you doing, Coryo?” you asked, voice low, eyes not quite meeting his directly.

“You weren’t opening the door.” Coriolanus squared his shoulders. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You shook your head, something between a sigh and a laugh escaping you in a puff of air. Coriolanus did not like the accusatory undertone.

“Did you think maybe I left it locked on purpose?” Were you mocking him? “That I wasn’t lying this morning and I really don’t want to speak to you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Coriolanus insisted, closing your door behind him. He moved towards your bed, watching your body language the entire time as he finally sat on the edge beside you. “You thought I would just let you ignore me?”

You swallowed, closing the book in your lap. “I guess not,” you admitted, setting the textbook aside. “I am well aware of your ego.”

A frown crested Coriolanus’s lip. “Is that what this is—you want to hurt me?”

You tilted your head, catching his gaze, much like he’d made you do the night before. It was the first time in nearly a day since you’d looked him dead in the eye.

“What do you want, Coryo?”

“I want you”

“You want me to what? Not be with Sejanus? Is that it? Is that why you did what you did?”

“You say that like it was something awful. I was there too.” Coriolanus felt a familiar heat rush through him at the memory. “I know what I saw.”

“You humiliated me.”

“In front of who? No one saw us.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is? Because you know Sejanus is weak?” Coriolanus searched your eyes and leaned in closer. He was feeling antagonistic. “I mean, how could he touch you, knowing I got there first?”

Coriolanus caught your hand as you raised it, presumably to strike him.

“Is that what we’ve resorted to?”

He squeezed your wrist, enough to cause pain. You winced and tried to move away, but Coriolanus wasn’t going to let you get away.

“I could ask you the same,” you sneered, sounding like an entirely different person.

“What has happened to you?” Coriolanus questioned. He took a breath. “Do you want me to be sorry for what I’ve said? Fine, then, I apologize. But I’m not sorry for what I’ve done. You should not be with him.”

“I’m supposed to believe someone driven by jealousy?” you inquired back, blinking back tears. Why were you being so dramatic? “How can I trust anything you have to say to me now?”

Coriolanus was taken aback by the question. Did you really not trust him anymore? Even with the tight hold on your wrist, he could feel you slipping from his grasp. If you were to leave him, he’d never forgive the universe for its twisted irony. Coriolanus put so much time and care into you because he wanted you. His family didn’t, at least not at first, but even so, you’d have nothing if it wasn’t for him. Is that what you wanted to leave him with now? Nothing? Nothing but the memory of when you were his?

No, that wouldn’t do.

It just wouldn’t.

“You can trust me, I promise,” Coriolanus insisted, pleading, even. “I love you, I always have—you can’t have expected me to sit back and do nothing while you…”

You looked more betrayed, if that was even possible. He was trying to make it better but explaining was only making it worse. Coriolanus had never met a person where the more he talked, the more he tried to persuade them, they believed him less. In that way again you were an anomaly.

If Coriolanus couldn’t tell you, he could show you. He had to make you understand—he could salvage this and get what he wanted in the end. If he was anything, it was persistent. It had worked before, excluding the aftermath.

Coriolanus moved, keeping his hold on your wrist as he shoved you down, pulling himself up and then on top of you in a fluid motion.

You squirmed, questioning, “What are you doing?”

Coriolanus caught your other hand and brought it to join your other wrist he already had a hold of in one hand. He straddled your waist, keeping your body pinned.

“You won’t listen to me,” he pointed out. Something inside him urged him to lean down. “But I can still prove it to you, that it’s me you should be with. No one else.”

Then he crashed his lips onto yours. It was more forceful than it had been the previous night, ensuring you couldn’t turn away again. His tongue was already in your mouth before you thought to turn your head.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t kiss him back, Coriolanus was in bliss. Your lips were soft, molding perfectly to his. You moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was a protest, but it made his body heat up all the same. Coriolanus couldn’t get enough of you. Last night left him wanting more, not less.

More than that, he was determined. When he finally detached his lips from yours, the both of you panting, Coriolanus set forth on a track that wouldn’t allow him to turn around.

Even if he tried to take it back, everything would already be changed.

So he didn’t even bother hesitating. Coriolanus was determined, even, at yanking your clothes from your body.

Your words were jumbled by the time they reached his ears. His own heart racing with excitement drowned out any requests you had for him.

The word “stop” left his vocabulary until you yelled it too loud for his liking.

Your whole body shook when he clapped his hand over your mouth. Your top was completely gone, your chest heaving as you breathed through your nose. While Coriolanus could’ve easily been distracted by your state, he trained his eyes on your wide ones.

The word helpless crossed his mind, and he had to take a moment to control himself.

“Grandma’am is upstairs,” Coriolanus finally warned, voice low. “Don’t disturb her.”

You blinked. Coriolanus was almost surprised by the way you settled down, but it told him you understood the implications of alerting her.

Your position beneath Coriolanus had to be better than starving and cold on the street, didn’t it?

You didn’t have Sejanus anymore. If you thought you did, Coriolanus would make sure to remedy that with his friend before you got to him first.

As Coriolanus lifted his hand from your mouth, he silently implored he was the only one who could save you from being branded a liar.

Just as Coriolanus had always admired, you were a quick learner. As heartbroken as you looked, you didn’t raise your voice again.

“This isn’t how you make me want to be with you,” you pleaded. Coriolanus wasn’t sure whether to laugh or take it as a challenge.

“We’ll see,” he mused in response.

He got you bare, and then himself.

You averted your eyes from his body, which offended him more than he thought it would.

“You can look,” Coriolanus said, voice heavy.

Something about his voice must’ve gotten to you, because your eyes flicked between his legs. You swallowed and looked back away.

A prideful smirk overtook Coriolanus’s face.

He moved then, still keeping hold on your wrists in one hand, dragging them down over your belly, and placed himself between your legs.

With one hand still holding your wrists, Coriolanus shoved his other hand in between your legs, two prodding fingers finding your entrance before making their way in. Eagerness won out over his patience. He could take things slow later.

You tensed around him, fighting the intrusion, but he wasn’t going to let you win. Even if you weren’t squirming against him, you were resistant. Coriolanus slowly worked at breaking your resolve, massaging his fingers inside your walls, thumb on your clit.

He could see shame wash over your features when a wetness began to form, coating his fingers and allowing him to work you open for him.

“See, you can lie to me, but your body can’t,” Coriolanus asserted, voice thick with arousal.

That triggered something in you, and perhaps Coriolanus reacted too harshly.

It felt like it all happened in a flash. One moment you were on your back, beneath him, clenching around his fingers, and the next he had to manhandle you onto your chest and knees to fend off your attack and keep you still. He regained his hold on your hands quickly, pinning them behind your back while you panted from the short lived exertion.

Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips to your ear.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to fight me,” he growled.

Your shoulders shifted as you found further discomfort in your new position, but you didn’t speak. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your voice—just like before.

Coriolanus wanted to watch your face as you submitted to him and his love for you, but if this was the only way he could have you for now, so be it.

He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the twitch of your body as he pressed the tip in.

Despite all the effort to get you where you were now, Coriolanus slid his cock into you with ease. Your body welcomed him, even if you didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself, his hips bucked forward, shoving himself into you deep. You whimpered into the pillow and Coriolanus’s mind went blank for a moment, basking in the feel of your warm cunt around him. It was better than he imagined.

His cock twitched inside of you, eager to fill you, but he had to make this last. Just like before, Coriolanus wanted to make you feel good. So good you had no choice but to want him.

Coriolanus drew his hips back after a few moments of just resting inside you. When only the tip remained, he thrust forward. Your body rocked against the mattress.

He did it again, this time slower. Forcing you to feel the drag of his thick cock inside of you. Coriolanus liked the way your body quivered as you succumbed to the pleasure he could give you.

You felt like heaven, all wet and warm and squeezing around him in a way that made him want to never leave you.

To show he trusted you, Coriolanus let your hands go. They immediately fell to grip the pillow beneath your head. You didn’t go to fight him and that counted for something. He had an ulterior motive, though, because now he could hold your hips with both hands.

He leaned down, pressing kisses to your back. He ran his hands along your skin, drinking the entirety of you in as he moved inside of you.

His movements were a bit slow, calculated, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. Coriolanus imagined you rocking your hips back, your moans filling the room, eager for more. That would have to be saved for another time when you were more willing.

You body tensed and shivered, and Coriolanus knew you were getting close. You still had yet to speak.

It was petty, the sudden sharp thrust of his hips to shove his cock deep and hard into you.

A gasp—he drew a gasp from you.

He allowed his weight to fully fall on top of you, finally. Your skin was so warm on his chest, it was as if your body was trying to burn him off of you. Maybe it was all in his head. But it didn’t really matter. It was far too late for that.

“It’s okay to want it,” Coriolanus muttered into your ear.

He felt your body reacting and you were moments away from what he’d been pushing you towards. His thrusts grew shallow, not letting too much of himself leave you as you finally came undone.

You buried your face into the pillow, muffling your cry as you finally came around his cock. It was then that he got what he wanted, even if it was only brief. Your body spasmed and pushed back, trying to feel every inch of him stretching you out, clenching down to hold him there.

Coriolanus followed you soon after, cock throbbing in your walls, spilling inside of you and painting them white. He held your hips so tight he was sure he’d leave bruises as he held himself still, letting the both of you experience the sensation in full.

After however long—Coriolanus didn’t count the minutes—he withdrew from your body. He was a gentleman, so he helped you to lay down before your body collapsed on its own.

He laid down beside you, pulling your blanket over the top of both of your bodies with the intention to bring you comfort.

You were wordless, rolling onto your side, facing away from him.

Coriolanus turned with you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pulling you back to him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head before resting his lips near your ear.

“Do you really think not talking to me is the best idea?” he whispered, less frustrated than before.

You shook in his arms, but your voice was steady as you asked, “What do you expect me to say to you?”

Coriolanus didn’t have to think all that long.

“That you love me.”

You were silent for a moment, Coriolanus thought he was going to have to repeat himself.

“I did love you,” you uttered, voice threatening to break. “But it wasn’t enough for you.”

Coriolanus could’ve been angry, but he knew he’d win you back. He had all the time in the world, knowing you wouldn’t dare continue your relationship with Sejanus. How could you? You were already spoken for.

You were Coriolanus’s, you always had been. He realized it before you, but he knew you’d come to learn the truth. You’d accept it eventually, and everything would fall into place exactly as he wanted.

[astonmartinii]

a spoonful of sugar | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 124,509 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: WOAH WHAT IT'S OSCAR'S HOME RACE WEEK? that mean's it's time to whack out the aussie cook book mama piastri got me for christmas and man this fish has a cool name. BARRAMUNDI is a fish very commonly used in aussie cuisine (real ones know it from masterchef australia). so here i've pan seared it with some herbs and some lemons and take it from me it SLAPS, but you know what i hope slaps more? oscar this weekend... LET'S GO BABY

[as always this recipe is on my website and will be in my 2024 f1 calendar recipe book coming out soon]

view all comments

user1: FAVES OMG PARENTS

user2: my favourite thing is where i read intently all of y/n's recipe and continue to make pot noodles

yourusername: pot noodles are good i can't even be mad

oscarpiastri: can confirm it did in fact SLAP

yourusername: oh wow piastri stamp of approval that's basically a michelin star

oscarpiastri: tbf i would eat a roll of paper towels if it was you who gave it to me

yourusername: okay.... I'LL TAKE IT

user3: can we please study these people cause why is saying you'd eat paper towels is the pinnacle of romance

user4: i NEED the recipe book STAT

landonorris: i was on board with this whole cooking thing but FISH IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE

yourusername: oh boy we got a BABY ON THE LINE

landonorris: i'm allowed to like what i like my MUM said so

yourusername: bro is an elite athlete and exclusively eats chicken nuggies

landonorris: @oscarpiastri tell your girlfriend to stop bullying me

oscarpiastri: i'm on her side buddy maybe explore the culinary world

landonorris: that's it i'm going to HR

yourusername: try it girly the mclaren HR team LOVE my food

user5: the dynamics since oscar and y/n got comfortable in the sport are my favourite things

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 793,288 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first time on the podium at my home race and the feeling is unreal. so thankful to have my family and love of my life around me, lets keep building on this !!

view all comments

user7: THANK THE LORD MCLAREN KEPT THEIR SHIT TOGETHER IN 2024 OSCAR FIRST WIN COMING IN FAST

yourusername: I AM TOTALLY FINE ABOUT THIS AND I AM NOT SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU AT ALL TIMES I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO SO MUCH AND I LOVE SHARING THIS WITH YOU AND SEEING THE WORLD WITH YOU AND REACHING OUR DREAMS TOGETHER

user8: are they good?

logansargeant: from the man currently waiting for them to go to dinner and can hear them yelling this stuff to each other... no they are not okay and i don't think they ever have been

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR I AM SORRY I CANNOT CONTAIN MY LOVE FOR OSCAR

oscarpiastri: jealous bitches gonna be bitter

logansargeant: ??? excuse me

oscarpiastri: i'm sorry i got excited... love you logan (just not as much as y/n)

user9: this comment section is once again making me want to sneak into an F1 after party :(

user10: they're just going to dinner they've not even started drinking yet 😭

landonorris: i am proud of you mate - why is y/n dancing around in the kitchen in an apron that says "this chef FUCKS"

yourusername: fashion. (it says oscar piastri in small print right under that)

landonorris: i didn't need to know that

oscarpiastri: let her dance it makes the food taste even better

landonorris: there's definitely no fish right?

yourusername: no fish by order of the fussy child

landonorris: bullying online and in person @maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc @logansargeant STEP IN

maxverstappen1: eh i'm good i'm looking forward to dinner

charles_leclerc: you're on your own with this one lando

logansargeant: i've learnt not to cross y/n

user11: the piastris invited lando, logan and the rest of the podium? i am soft

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 162,994 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: a big post podium celebration dinner at the piastri house to celebrate oscar's home podium. first off, super duper proud. second, since it was a strictly no fish evening, i decided to go for classic aussie meat pies and grilled kangaroo LOL but there was only clean plates at the end so i'll defo consider adding it to the recipe book

view all comments

user12: i am getting a sugar rush this is so sweet

logansargeant: thank you for having me, a solid 9/10 - one point docked because kangaroos are cute

yourusername: wait until you run into one on a cold, wet evening

oscarpiastri: they are actually very scary and have a stealing problem

yourusername: tbf i think we all have a stealing problem

oscarpiastri: you definietly do ... cause you stole my heart

logansargeant: EW NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD

user13: i'm so lonely

maxverstappen1: i definitely did not think i was going to eat kangaroo this week but here we are

yourusername: did you like it?

maxverstappen1: i was shocked at how much i did

oscarpiastri: babe get that on the review cover of the recipe book this guy got three championships that has to mean something

yourusername: good idea i'm on it

maxverstappen1: ???

landonorris: you fed me kanga and roo from winnie the pooh? Y/N YOU FED ME KANGA AND ROO FROM WINNIE THE POOH?

yourusername: you eat chicken all the time and you don't feel sorry for chicken little

oscarpiastri: she ate you up there PUN INTENDED

landonorris: i've learnt my lesson i'm giving up here

charles_leclerc: i for one had a blast and will be asking for y/n to cater my birthday party

oscarpiastri: FOR A PRICE

charles_leclerc: you her guard dog or something?

oscarpiastri: duh? have you seen her?

yourusername: i would love to (idk monagasque cuisine though so give me notice)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 152,339 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant

yourusername: IMOLA, IMOLA MY HEART LIVES IN ITALIA AND MY STOMACH LIVES WITH ITALIAN FOOD. for real. the track is cute and whatnot but the real star is the pasta, the pizza, the gelato but most importantly the PASTA. here is two dishes that'll feature in the imola chapter: a burrata dish and a ragu !! oscar (and lando) certified so you know it's good, oscar even helped so it's defo beginner friendly!!

view all comments

user17: is it a collective f1 driver experience to be ass at cooking

danielricciardo: yes

maxverstappen1: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

landonorris: yes

charles_leclerc: YES

oscarpiastri: if i'm slow this weekend it's because i couldn't stop eating the ragu sorry mclaren

yourusername: i made sure no gelato until sunday so please don't take me out back and shoot me over giving him pasta

mclarenf1: bring some pasta for social media admin and no one has to know

yourusername: deal

landonorris: this is a public instagram comment section

charles_leclerc: why is mine always so darn crunchy

yourusername: inpatient, common amongst you drivers. oscar was once so impatient when boiling an egg he got it out and it was just watery egg

oscarpiastri: you said you wouldn't tell anyone :(

yourusername: no babe i'm proud !!! you've come so far

oscarpiastri: it's true i made my own omelette the other day :)

yourusername: and it was yummy

oscarpiastri: and it was yummy :)

user18: the positive affirmations in this relationship really keep me going

yourusername: he IS the MOST beautiful racer in all of the lands

oscarpiastri: she IS the PRETTIEST chef in all of the kitchens

oscarpiastri

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 775,431 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted in spain, but we're still in good spirits and in the conversation at the top of the standings! also helps that when you get taken out of the race your girlfriend shovels the BEST paella ever into your mouth until you finally smile

view all comments

user19: bro got a girlfriend and personal chef all in one

yourusername: food is my love language and when babe gets twatted into the barriers by SOMEONE i will personally feed him some of his favourite food

user20: she's holding back

yourusername: PR said i couldn't say anything...

oscarpiastri: i love youuuuuuuuu and i love your paella i think it's laced with crack

logansargeant: @fia GET HIS ASS

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR?

logansargeant: i'm sorry, we're pretty desperate for the p7 here at williams

yourusername: i respect that

oscarpiastri: Y/N????

yourusername: MORE PAELLA

carlossainz55: big respect for the paella, definitely looks authentic

yourusername: OBVIOUSLY IT'S AUTHENTIC DO YOU THINK MY QUALIFICATIONS ARE A JOKE

yourusername: lol sorry thank you actually SPANISH F1 DRIVER APPROVED PAELLA

oscarpiastri: @fernandoalo_oficial can we get another good review please and thank you

fernandoalo_oficial: looks good, need a taste to be sure

yourusername: it's coming your way (please return the tupperware tho please)

mclarenf1: you'll come back stronger oscar 💪

oscarpiastri: fuelled by love and paella

yourusername: fuelled by VENOM AND THE WILL TO WIN AND CRUSH THE COMPETITION

oscarpiastri: and that 🫶

note: here's a short and sweet one that MAY return to finish out this fictional season ... i also just love this kind of set up for an imagine. it's a lil short i know but the CHRISTMAS CRAFTS ARE COMING IN FAST AND THE CROSS STITCH CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE SLAYING THE HOUSE DOWN

[stergeon]

THIS IS SO AMAZING 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I AM IN LOVE!!!!! THANK YOU FOR DRAWING THESE, THEY ARE SO WONDERFUL!!!!!!

Doropetra journalist x fashion designer modern AU!!! I really liked this post by @stergeon and had visions for visualizations of this fun story idea. I tried my hand at drawing out some scenes!!!

These are just quick, vignette-type ideas that I had to sketch out. These are also mixed in with me finding excuses to draw the girls in stylish outfits and an outlet for dumping my knowledge and experience in the fashion world hehe

My comic and sequencing skills are not the best, but I hope you find these fashion gals to be so sillyful!

[millyh23]

Seams of Ambition

Word count: 11.7k

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

Katie McCabe’s birthday had arrived, and the Arsenal locker room was buzzing with excitement. The air was filled with the anticipation of celebrating the team’s most fiery and fun-loving player. Everyone had prepared thoughtful gifts—trinkets and items they knew Katie would appreciate. Y/N, the newest and youngest transfer, sat quietly in her corner, feeling a little out of place. She hadn’t been at the club long enough to know exactly what Katie liked outside of football, and she’d been struggling for days to figure out the perfect gift.

Being a naturally quiet and private person, Y/N hadn’t shared much about herself with the team. Sure, she was talented on the pitch and had impressed during training, but outside of football, she was a mystery. Little did they know, Y/N had a secret that no one at Arsenal had uncovered yet.

After practice, everyone gathered in the lounge area, where a small celebration was set up for Katie’s birthday. There was cake, drinks, and laughter echoing through the room. Katie sat in the middle, grinning from ear to ear as she opened gifts from her teammates, each one bringing more joy than the last.

When it was finally Y/N’s turn, she nervously handed Katie a sleek black gift box wrapped with a minimalist bow. She hadn’t overthought it, but the pressure of being new made her wonder if she should’ve gone with something more personal.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Katie said with her usual warm smile, clearly trying to make her feel welcome. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Y/N simply nodded, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

Katie untied the ribbon and flipped open the box, her eyes widening as she pulled out an oversized black hoodie with striking white embroidery on the front. It was a design unlike anything she’d ever seen before—cool, edgy, and impeccably detailed.

“Holy sh—this is incredible,” Katie gasped, holding the hoodie up to get a better look. “This is from Immortal!”

The entire room suddenly fell silent. Everyone stared at the piece of clothing in Katie’s hands, their jaws dropping. Immortal was one of the hottest streetwear brands in the world, known for its limited releases and jaw-dropping prices. A single hoodie from them could easily set someone back several thousand pounds.

“Wait, you got her Immortal?” Leah Williamson asked, blinking in disbelief. “How on earth did you manage that?”

Y/N shrugged casually, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I didn’t really know what to get, so I just gave her one of my pieces.”

“One of your pieces?” Vivianne Miedema echoed, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Y/N glanced around at her teammates, realizing they still didn’t get it. “Yeah… It’s my brand.”

The silence that followed was almost comical. Everyone stared at her, eyes wide as they processed what she’d just said.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Beth Mead burst out laughing, unable to believe it. “You’re telling me you own Immortal? The brand that celebrities can’t even get their hands on?”

Y/N nodded, completely unfazed by their shock. “Yeah. I started it when I was 16. It just kinda blew up from there.”

The room erupted in disbelief, with everyone talking over each other in excitement. Leah and Viv looked at each other, trying to wrap their heads around the fact that their new teammate was not only a football prodigy but also the brains behind one of the most exclusive fashion labels in the world.

“No way,” Katie said, standing up to properly admire the hoodie. “This is insane, Y/N. How did you even manage to keep this a secret?”

Y/N chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “I don’t really talk about it much. It’s just something I do on the side.”

“On the side?!” Alessia Russo exclaimed. “This is huge! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Y/N shrugged again. “Didn’t think it was important. We’re all here to play football, right?”

The team stared at her like she had two heads, but in true Arsenal fashion, the surprise quickly turned into admiration. They bombarded her with questions, demanding to know how she managed to juggle running a global brand while playing professional football.

“Wait, so when’s the next drop?” Katie asked, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve gotta get in on this before it sells out.”

Y/N grinned. “I’ll hook you up. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I feel like my gift’s completely outclassed now,” Leah joked, shaking her head. “Who knew we had a secret fashion mogul in our squad?”

As the laughter continued, Y/N couldn’t help but feel more at ease. It had been a risky move, revealing her secret, but seeing the team’s positive reaction made her feel like she’d finally found her place among them.

“Alright, alright, no more questions about my brand,” Y/N said, standing up. “This is Katie’s day. Let’s focus on celebrating her.”

Katie slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “Nah, this is your day too, mate. You just became the coolest person in this room.”

Y/N chuckled, her usual reserved nature melting away under the warmth of her new teammates’ acceptance. “Thanks, Katie. Happy birthday.”

And as the celebration continued, with everyone gushing over the hoodie and planning to beg Y/N for more gear, she couldn’t help but smile. Being at Arsenal was already feeling like home—and now, she wasn’t just the new transfer. She was Y/N, the player who had taken the football world and the fashion world by storm.

As the laughter and birthday festivities continued, Y/N found herself enjoying the team’s company more than ever. She hadn’t planned on revealing her secret, but now that it was out, the weight of keeping it hidden was lifted. Plus, seeing how excited the team was about her brand made her feel more connected with them.

As the chatter continued, a thought struck her, and she leaned back on the couch, watching the girls animatedly talk about Immortal.

“You know…” Y/N began, her voice casual but catching the attention of a few of her teammates. “I’ve been planning an ad campaign for the next drop.”

The room quieted down slightly as the girls turned to look at her with interest. Leah raised an eyebrow, catching on to where this was going. “Oh yeah?”

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Yeah. I was thinking it could be cool to have a few footballers involved—people who actually know how to move in the clothes, not just stand around looking pretty.”

Katie perked up immediately, a grin spreading across her face. “You saying we’re not pretty, Y/N?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Nah, Katie, you’re gorgeous, don’t worry. But I mean—imagine some of you modeling the new collection, showing off how it looks in action. You know, like moving around, doing some tricks, making it feel real.”

Leah crossed her arms, already intrigued. “You want us to model for you?”

“Yeah, why not?” Y/N shrugged like it was no big deal, but her excitement was obvious. “You’re all familiar with the brand now. And I’ve seen how some of you dress outside of training. You’d fit right in with the vibe I’m going for.”

The room erupted again with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“You’re serious?” Katie asked, her eyes practically sparkling at the idea. “You want us to be in an ad for Immortal? That’s massive!”

Y/N nodded. “Dead serious. I’ve been looking for people who’d bring the energy I want, and who better than you lot?”

Leah, who always had an eye for fashion herself, looked intrigued. “What would it involve?”

“Just a photoshoot and a short video campaign,” Y/N explained. “Something to show how the clothes hold up under movement, some lifestyle shots too. We’d keep it casual, nothing over the top. You’d just be doing what you do best—being yourselves.”

Katie, still holding her new hoodie, grinned like a kid at Christmas. “Alright, I’m in. I want first dibs on the new gear, though.”

Beth laughed from the other side of the room. “You better give us all free clothes after this, Y/N!”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N replied, chuckling. “You’ll all get your pick.”

Leah leaned forward, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Count me in too. This sounds epic.”

Beth, Viv, and Alessia quickly chimed in with their agreement, clearly excited at the prospect of modeling for Y/N’s brand. The idea of blending their love for football with street fashion was something none of them had expected but now couldn’t wait to be a part of.

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of pride and belonging she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Alright, then. Let’s do it.”

Katie clapped her hands together, grinning widely. “I’m already thinking about my poses.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile. “Just make sure you look good in the clothes and don’t steal the spotlight.”

“Oh please, Y/N, you know I was born for the spotlight,” Katie teased, tossing the hoodie over her shoulder with dramatic flair.

The rest of the team laughed, and Y/N felt the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. It was no longer just about fitting in at Arsenal—she was building real friendships, and now, they were about to share another part of her life.

A few days later, Y/N arranged for the photoshoot at a sleek warehouse-style studio in London. The setting was perfect—industrial, modern, and in line with the edgy aesthetic of Immortal. The girls arrived excited, dressed in their fresh new pieces from Y/N’s upcoming collection. Oversized hoodies, cropped jackets, joggers, and bold accessories—they looked every bit the part of a streetwear campaign.

Y/N watched as her teammates took to the camera like pros. Leah was effortlessly cool, flashing her trademark smirk, while Katie went full energy mode, making the photographer laugh with her playful poses. Viv and Alessia leaned into the more laid-back vibe, while Beth threw in a few trick shots with a football to show off the functionality of the clothes.

“This is insane,” Leah said during a break, grinning at Y/N. “I feel like a proper model.”

“You look like one too,” Y/N teased, nudging her. “You lot are killing it.”

Katie swaggered over, spinning a football on her finger. “When this ad drops, we’re going to break the internet. Arsenal, fashion, and football—what more could people want?”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with pride. “You’re right. This is going to be huge.”

As the shoot wrapped up, and the girls exchanged jokes and compliments, Y/N realized how much things had changed since her arrival. She had come to Arsenal as just a new player, a young transfer, but now she was a part of something bigger. Her brand, her football career, and her friendships were all coming together in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

“Alright,” Y/N said as the girls gathered their things, still buzzing from the shoot. “Next time you see yourselves on a billboard wearing Immortal, just remember—it’s all because of me.”

Katie laughed, throwing an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “You might’ve started this, Y/N, but we’re definitely the ones who are going to sell it.”

Y/N grinned. “Fair enough. Just don’t forget where the free clothes come from.”

The team laughed, and as they headed out of the studio, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Arsenal wasn’t just her team anymore—it was her family. And now, they were part of her brand’s story too.

As the team left the studio, buzzing with excitement from the shoot, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of contentment. The photoshoot had gone better than she’d imagined, and seeing her teammates so effortlessly embody the essence of her brand filled her with pride. They had no idea how much their support meant to her, and now, she was even more excited for the future of Immortal.

A few days passed, and the buzz around the shoot continued to grow among the team. Katie, of course, couldn’t stop bragging about the fact that she was now not just a footballer but a “fashion icon” too, as she dramatically put it. She had practically worn the Immortal hoodie everywhere since the shoot.

During a team breakfast one morning, as the girls sat around the cafeteria table, Leah was scrolling through her phone and grinning at something.

“Oi, Y/N,” Leah called, catching Y/N’s attention as she bit into a piece of toast. “Did you see this yet?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “See what?”

Leah held up her phone, revealing an early sneak peek of the campaign images that had been sent out to the Immortal email subscribers. Katie, Leah, Viv, Beth, and Alessia were all featured in different shots, looking effortlessly cool in Y/N’s designs.

“You look badass,” Leah said with a grin, pointing at her own image. “Look at me. I’m a model now.”

The girls leaned over to see the images, gathering around Leah’s phone with excited murmurs.

“Wait, is this live already?” Katie asked, her eyes wide. “I thought we’d have more time before this hit the internet!”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah, those are just preview shots. The real launch is next week. But I had to give the subscribers something to hype them up.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” Alessia said, still staring at the photos. “We look incredible. You’re about to break the fashion world, Y/N.”

Beth chimed in, smirking. “And the football world too, when they realize we’re basically models now.”

The team erupted in laughter, and Katie playfully tossed her napkin at Beth. “As long as I’m the face of the brand, we’re good.”

“Oh, is that right?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’ve already taken over enough with that hoodie, Katie.”

Katie gave her a cheeky grin, tugging at the hoodie she still hadn’t taken off. “What can I say? It’s comfy.”

“Comfy and expensive,” Viv added with a smirk. “Y/N, you’re going to ruin us all with how much we’re going to want from your next collection.”

Y/N laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you all hooked up.”

The conversation flowed easily, with the girls still buzzing about the campaign and their newfound status as fashion models. It wasn’t long before Jonas Eidevall, Arsenal’s manager, strolled into the cafeteria. His usual no-nonsense expression softened when he saw the team gathered together, laughing and chatting.

“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them, grabbing a cup of coffee.

“Morning, coach,” they all chorused, but Katie wasn’t about to miss her chance to share the news.

“Coach, you have to check this out,” she said, turning her phone screen toward Jonas, showing him the preview images from the shoot. “We’re officially fashion models now.”

Jonas gave them an amused look, sipping his coffee. “Fashion models, huh? Is this why I keep seeing those hoodies around? You’re all part of Y/N’s brand now?”

Y/N tried to downplay it, shrugging with a small smile. “It was just a fun campaign.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “I didn’t realize we had a fashion mogul in our ranks. Should I be worried that you’ll all switch careers?”

The team laughed, and Y/N shook her head. “Don’t worry, coach. Football comes first.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jonas said with a chuckle. “But I’ll say, it’s impressive what you’ve done with the brand, Y/N. It takes a lot of work to balance something like that with a professional football career.”

Y/N felt a wave of pride wash over her at the compliment. It wasn’t every day that she received recognition for her work outside of football, and hearing it from her manager made it all the more meaningful.

“Thanks, coach,” she replied, feeling her teammates' supportive gazes on her.

As Jonas walked away to take his coffee elsewhere, Katie turned to Y/N with a proud smile. “Look at you, getting compliments from the boss. You’re killing it, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to brush off the attention. “It’s just a side thing.”

“Oh, please,” Leah teased, “stop being so humble. This is massive, and you know it.”

The girls continued their conversation, hyping up Y/N more than she could handle, when suddenly a notification buzzed on her phone. She glanced down and her eyes widened slightly.

“The preview just went live,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh my god!” Beth practically squealed. “Everyone’s gonna see this now.”

Seconds later, a flood of comments and messages started coming in from her brand’s social media. Fans were going wild, especially since Immortal had teased the involvement of Arsenal players in the campaign. Photos of Katie, Leah, and the others were already making rounds online, and the excitement was palpable.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, watching the chaos unfold as her teammates excitedly checked their phones, reacting to the flood of comments. She couldn’t help but smile at the whirlwind of excitement around her. This campaign was going to be bigger than she’d anticipated, and she was glad she had her teammates by her side for the ride.

Katie, of course, was the loudest, shouting to anyone who would listen. “I’m famous! Look at me, Arsenal’s number one model!”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, leaning over to Katie. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Katie slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. “And you love it. Admit it, Y/N, this campaign wouldn’t be half as cool without me.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late for that!” Katie shouted, making the whole team laugh again.

As the team celebrated their newfound fame in the fashion world, Y/N realized just how far she’d come in such a short time. Not only had she found her place at Arsenal, but she had also shared a part of herself with her new teammates—a part that she hadn’t even been sure they’d care about. And now, they were fully on board, embracing her passion with the same energy they brought to the pitch every day.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just the new girl anymore. She was truly part of the Arsenal family.

The next morning, Y/N walked into the Arsenal training center with her usual laid-back swagger. She was already feeling the weight of her phone vibrating in her pocket, notifications flooding in from her brand’s social media. It was a lot to take in, but she was buzzing with excitement. The campaign had taken off like wildfire, and she couldn’t have asked for a better response from fans or her teammates.

As she strolled into the cafeteria, she found most of the team gathered around the breakfast table, laughing and chatting. Katie was, as usual, at the center of it all, gesticulating wildly as she told some story Y/N didn’t catch the beginning of. Alessia and Leah were both giggling beside her, while Beth and Viv watched with amused smiles.

“Y/N! The star of the show!” Leah called out when she saw her, waving her over to their table.

“Oi, come sit,” Katie added, patting the empty chair beside her. “You missed the best part of my story.”

Y/N smirked and slid into the seat, playfully bumping her shoulder against Katie’s. “I’m sure it was riveting.”

Katie rolled her eyes but grinned. “You’re lucky you missed it; I’ll save the details for later.”

As Y/N grabbed some breakfast, she casually brought up something she had been mulling over all night. “So, I was thinking about the next step for Immortal.”

The table went quiet with interest, and everyone’s eyes were on her.

“I want to drop an exclusive line in collaboration with one of you,” Y/N said, nonchalantly sipping her coffee. “Something custom, something that really fits your vibe.”

Instantly, the table erupted into chaos.

Leah, Alessia, Beth, and Katie all started talking over each other, vying for Y/N’s attention.

“Obviously, it should be me,” Leah said, leaning forward, her tone teasing but with a competitive edge. “I’ve got the perfect aesthetic. Sporty and clean, you know? It’s what your brand needs.”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Katie interrupted, her voice loud and confident as usual. “You’ve got to do it with me. Think about it—bold, unapologetic, fearless. I’m literally the face of this brand already.”

Beth chimed in, her smile mischievous. “I’d bring a bit of chill energy, you know? Something for the laid-back fans, the ones who want comfort without compromising style.”

“And I’m telling you,” Alessia cut in, pointing to herself, “a collaboration with me would be killer. I’ve got that girl-next-door thing going on. People would eat it up.”

Y/N watched the chaos unfold, trying to stifle her laughter as her teammates pitched themselves one after the other. They were all so animated, throwing out ideas and trying to convince her why they’d be the perfect collaborator.

Katie, of course, was the loudest, almost standing up in her seat as she went on about how much influence she’d bring to the brand. “Come on, Y/N, you know I’m the obvious choice. Imagine it—McCabe x Immortal. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Y/N chuckled, looking around at the group. “You guys are really making this hard.”

Before she could say anything else, Kyra wandered into the cafeteria, grabbing a banana from the counter. She hadn’t been part of the pitch battle yet and seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Leah leaned over toward Y/N, lowering her voice with a smirk. “You know if you pick Katie, we’ll never hear the end of it, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly, knowing Leah was probably right. But as she watched Kyra casually walking past the table, her mind sparked with an idea.

“Hey, Kyra,” Y/N called out, causing her to stop mid-step.

Kyra raised an eyebrow, looking a little confused but amused. “Yeah?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, a smirk tugging at her lips. “How do you feel about doing a custom line with Immortal?”

The room went dead silent. All eyes snapped to Kyra, whose expression morphed from confusion to surprise in an instant.

“Me?” she asked, pointing to herself. “You’re serious?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got a unique style. I think we could come up with something sick together. What do you think?”

Kyra blinked a few times, then broke into a grin. “Hell yeah! I’d love to!”

The rest of the table stared in stunned silence, and the moment the reality sank in, Katie’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Katie spluttered, glaring at Y/N like she’d been betrayed. “You picked Kyra? What about me? We’ve been best mates for years! I’m the obvious choice!”

Leah snorted, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter, while Beth and Alessia exchanged amused looks.

Y/N gave Katie a calm smile, trying not to laugh at how genuinely offended she seemed. “It’s not like I won’t do something with you eventually, Katie. I just thought Kyra’s vibe would be perfect for this particular line. Plus, she hasn’t been hounding me about it like someone has.”

Katie crossed her arms, pouting in her seat. “You’re breaking my heart, Y/N. I thought we had something special.”

Y/N snickered, leaning over to nudge her playfully. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll get your moment.”

But Katie wasn’t letting it go. She turned to Kyra, narrowing her eyes. “You better not screw this up, Kyra.”

Kyra, now fully caught up in the moment, just grinned at Katie. “Don’t worry, McCabe. I’ll do the brand justice.”

Katie muttered something under her breath, still pouting as the rest of the table laughed at her over-the-top reaction. Leah and Alessia were practically crying from laughter, while Beth was already planning how she could poke fun at Katie later.

“You’re so jealous, Katie,” Leah teased, wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s actually hilarious.”

“I’m not jealous,” Katie shot back, though the fire in her eyes told a different story. “I’m just saying it should’ve been me. You’ll regret this, Y/N.”

Y/N raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe next time. But for now, it’s Kyra’s turn.”

Kyra beamed, sitting down beside Y/N and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re gonna kill this collab.”

Katie huffed dramatically, but there was a playful glint in her eye now. “Fine, whatever. But if you make a second collab without me, we’re done.”

“Deal,” Y/N said with a grin, enjoying every second of Katie’s theatrics.

The rest of breakfast was filled with teasing banter, and despite Katie’s initial jealousy, she couldn’t stay mad for long. The excitement over the potential collaboration with Kyra soon took over the conversation, and by the end of the meal, even Katie was throwing in ideas for what Kyra’s line could look like.

But as they left the table, Y/N couldn’t resist leaning over to Katie and whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ve got something special planned for you. Just wait.”

Katie’s pout disappeared, replaced with a sly smile. “You better, Y/N.”

As the team headed off to training, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a wave of excitement for what was to come. The collab with Kyra was going to be epic, but she also knew Katie wouldn’t let her forget that her time in the spotlight was still coming.

The collaboration with Kyra had been a massive success, with Immortal’s custom line selling out within hours of its release. The bold, daring designs had been a perfect reflection of Kyra’s personality, and the fans had loved it. But, as promised, Y/N hadn’t forgotten about Katie. In fact, ever since Katie’s dramatic reaction at breakfast, Y/N had been brainstorming ideas for what their collaboration would look like.

She wanted it to be something special, something that reflected not just Katie’s style but her fiery personality and leadership on the pitch. And, after weeks of planning, the perfect concept had come to mind: Fearless.

Now, it was time to pitch the idea to Katie.

Y/N found her sitting in the locker room after a particularly grueling training session. Katie was sprawled out on one of the benches, half-drinking from a water bottle while chatting with Leah, who was equally wiped out. The sight made Y/N smile—Katie looked so relaxed compared to her usual high-energy self.

“Katie, you got a minute?” Y/N asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Katie glanced up, her face lighting up instantly. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this. What do you have for me?”

Leah nudged Katie with a smirk. “I’ll leave you two to it. Can’t wait to see what Y/N comes up with this time.”

With a wink, Leah left the room, leaving Y/N and Katie alone. Y/N walked over, sitting beside Katie on the bench and pulling out a folder filled with sketches and mood boards.

“Alright,” Y/N started, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what our collab should look like. I want it to be something bold, something that screams Katie McCabe. You’re fearless, both on and off the pitch, and I want this line to reflect that.”

Katie’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she sat up straighter. “Go on…”

Y/N opened the folder, revealing the first set of designs. The theme was striking—sharp, clean lines with edgy details like ripped denim, leather accents, and bold color schemes. The central piece was a black leather jacket with “Fearless” embroidered on the back in fiery red letters, alongside an abstract design that looked like flames.

“I’m calling it the Fearless collection,” Y/N explained. “It’s inspired by your personality. The kind of confidence and boldness you have when you step onto the pitch. I want people to feel unstoppable when they wear this.”

Katie’s jaw dropped as she flipped through the designs, her hands running over the sketches like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Y/N… this is unreal,” Katie muttered, clearly in awe. “This is exactly what I wanted, but better. The jacket, the color palette—it’s so me.”

Y/N smirked. “I know, right? I thought it’d be perfect. We’ll also have custom cleats, streetwear pieces, and accessories. All of it ties into that fearless energy you bring every day.”

Katie was quiet for a moment, still taking it all in, but Y/N could tell she was thrilled. Finally, she looked up, her usual cocky grin returning.

“You nailed it,” Katie said, standing up and pulling Y/N into a hug. “This is gonna be epic. The fans are going to lose their minds.”

Y/N hugged her back, laughing at how excited Katie was. “I’m glad you love it. Now, I just need you to model a few pieces for the promo shoot.”

Katie pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You mean I get to show off? Count me in.”

A few days later, the team gathered in the studio for the Fearless collection shoot. Katie was buzzing with energy, strutting around the set in the pieces from her collection. She was wearing the signature leather jacket, paired with ripped black jeans and boots that screamed “badass.”

The other players were there, too, watching the shoot unfold. Leah, Alessia, Kyra, and Beth were all leaning against the wall, throwing in the occasional sarcastic comment as Katie posed for the camera.

“You’re loving this way too much, McCabe,” Leah called out, laughing when Katie dramatically flipped her jacket’s collar.

Katie shot her a look. “Jealous, Williamson? Don’t worry, maybe Y/N will let you model in the next shoot.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the amusement on her face.

Y/N, standing behind the camera with the photographer, couldn’t help but smile. Katie was completely in her element, commanding attention with every pose. The theme of the collection suited her perfectly, and it showed in how effortlessly she wore each piece.

As the shoot continued, Y/N found herself feeling proud. This collaboration wasn’t just about making clothes—it was about showcasing the side of Katie that everyone admired. She was strong, fearless, and unapologetically herself, and now, her personality was immortalized in fashion.

“Alright, Katie, that’s a wrap,” the photographer said after the final shot.

Katie strutted over to Y/N, grinning like she’d just won a match. “That was amazing. You’re a genius, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, giving her a playful shove. “I told you I’d make it worth the wait.”

“You definitely did,” Katie agreed, glancing at the jacket she was wearing. “I can’t wait to see people walking around in this.”

As the rest of the team gathered around to check out the final shots, Y/N caught sight of Katie watching her. There was a rare softness in her expression, and she stepped closer, her voice quieter now.

“Hey,” Katie said, bumping Y/N’s shoulder. “Thanks for this. I know I was a pain about it, but you really nailed it.”

Y/N grinned, bumping her back. “You’re welcome. But I wouldn’t call you a pain. More like… passionate.”

Katie laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever you say.”

She slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, and as they walked back toward the rest of the team, Y/N felt a sense of contentment. The Fearless collection was going to be a massive success, but more than that, it had brought her and Katie even closer.

And as they joined their teammates, with everyone buzzing about the new line, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

The match against Chelsea was a high-stakes one, a clash between two of the best teams in the league. It was fast-paced, with tackles flying in and tension building as the clock ticked down. The atmosphere was electric—fans roaring, adrenaline running through every player’s veins, and Y/N right in the thick of it. She’d been in brilliant form all season, and this game was no different.

Y/N had always prided herself on her speed, agility, and ability to weave through defenses effortlessly. She’d just danced past two defenders when she spotted a gap in the Chelsea backline. With the ball at her feet, she charged forward, eyes locked on the goal.

And then it happened.

In the blink of an eye, as Y/N was about to take her shot, a Chelsea defender came in with a hard, mistimed tackle. Y/N felt the impact before she even realized what had happened. The crack in her knee echoed in her ears as she collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg in agony.

Time seemed to slow. The roar of the crowd dimmed, replaced by a ringing in her ears. All she could feel was the searing pain shooting through her knee, every nerve on fire. Her heart raced, panic settling in as she tried to move, but her leg wouldn’t respond.

"Y/N! Oh my God, Y/N!" Katie's voice was the first she registered, followed by the concerned faces of her teammates rushing over.

Y/N's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she lay on the grass, her vision blurring from the pain. The medics were on her within seconds, their hands gently prodding her leg, but she already knew. Something was terribly wrong.

“Katie…” Y/N whispered through gritted teeth, tears filling her eyes as the reality began to sink in. “I can’t move my leg.”

Katie knelt beside her, her face pale as she reached for Y/N’s hand. “Don’t say that. It’ll be fine. The medics will fix you up, yeah?”

Y/N tried to nod, but the pain was too much. She could barely focus as the medics worked around her, their concerned expressions doing little to comfort her.

The stretcher arrived quickly, and as they carefully lifted her onto it, Y/N’s heart ached more than her leg. The crowd’s cheers faded into background noise, and she could only focus on the tears that slipped down Katie’s face as she walked beside her, holding her hand tightly.

“Stay with me, okay?” Katie whispered, her voice shaking. “You’re gonna be okay, Y/N. You have to be.”

Y/N wanted to believe her. She wanted to hold on to that hope, but something deep inside her told her otherwise. The way her leg had twisted, the way her knee had buckled—it felt catastrophic.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, the painkillers numbing her enough to dull the physical pain, but nothing could touch the growing dread in her chest.

Hours passed before the team doctor finally approached her after the MRI. Y/N sat in the sterile hospital bed, Katie at her side, fingers still intertwined.

The doctor sighed, his expression grim. “Y/N, I’m afraid the damage is extensive. You’ve torn your ACL, MCL, and PCL, along with significant damage to the meniscus. The recovery time… well, it’s going to be long. And even then, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to return to professional football.”

Y/N’s world shattered with those words.

She stared at the doctor, unable to speak, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on her like a physical force. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she could do was replay the moment over and over in her mind—her foot planted, the crack in her knee, the way she had fallen. How could it all end like this?

Beside her, Katie stiffened, her grip on Y/N’s hand tightening. “No… no, there has to be something else. Surgery? Rehab? Y/N can’t just—she can’t just stop playing.”

The doctor’s sympathetic gaze shifted to Katie. “There will be surgeries, multiple, but the extent of the damage… it’s unlikely she’ll return to her previous level of play. I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s chest constricted, her pulse hammering in her ears. She’d dreamed of playing at the highest level since she was a kid, sacrificed everything for it. And now, it was being ripped away from her in a single moment.

Katie looked at her, her own eyes red and puffy, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N…”

“I…” Y/N swallowed, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know what to do.”

Katie pulled her into a tight hug, burying her face in Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “We’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone.”

But Y/N couldn’t bring herself to believe that. Football was all she’d ever known, all she’d ever wanted. Without it… who was she?

Days passed in a blur of surgeries, hospital visits, and endless hours of rehab. Y/N’s teammates visited often, bringing flowers and cards, but nothing could lift the crushing weight in her chest. The reality of her situation hung over her like a dark cloud.

Katie was with her every step of the way, never leaving her side, but Y/N could feel the strain it was putting on both of them. There were moments where Y/N would catch Katie watching her with a sadness in her eyes, as if she didn’t know how to fix the situation.

And the truth was, no one could fix it.

Months into her rehab, sitting in the gym, watching her teammates train from the sidelines, Y/N felt the full force of her loss. Watching them run drills, laughing, and playing the game she loved, it hit her all over again. She would never step foot on the pitch as a player again.

As she sat there, her leg in a brace, Katie came up behind her and gently wrapped her arms around Y/N's shoulders, resting her chin on Y/N's head.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Katie whispered softly.

Y/N blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Proud of what? That I can barely bend my knee?”

“No,” Katie said, squeezing her tighter. “For getting through this. For staying strong when everything felt impossible.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, leaning back into Katie’s embrace. “I don’t feel strong, Katie. I feel… lost.”

Katie kissed the top of her head. “You’re not lost. You’ll find your way, and I’ll be right there with you, whatever that looks like.”

And for the first time since the injury, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could still find a way forward—even if it wasn’t the path she had envisioned.

The weeks following Y/N’s injury were some of the hardest days of her life. Rehab was grueling—slow and painful, both physically and emotionally. Every day was a reminder of what she had lost, and even with Katie constantly by her side, it felt like an endless uphill battle.

Y/N spent most of her days in a daze, going through the motions of physical therapy, but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt detached, like she was watching her own life from a distance. Football had been everything to her, and without it, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

Katie could see the toll it was taking. Y/N wasn’t herself. She was quieter, more withdrawn, her once fiery personality dulled by the weight of everything she was going through. Katie hated seeing her like this, and she knew she had to do something to help pull her best friend out of the darkness.

One evening, after another long and silent day of rehab, Katie sat beside Y/N on the couch, watching as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone. She noticed Y/N was lingering on some photos from her clothing line—the one she had kept secret for so long.

Katie nudged her gently. “You know, your clothing line is pretty incredible,” she said, keeping her tone light.

Y/N barely looked up, shrugging. “It’s just a side thing, Katie. It doesn’t really matter now.”

Katie’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t matter? Y/N, it’s a huge deal. Do you know how many people would kill to be able to create something like that? And you did it while playing football at the highest level. That’s insane.”

Y/N let out a sigh, still not meeting Katie’s eyes. “Yeah, but football was always the priority. The clothing thing was just a distraction.”

Katie sat up straighter, her voice firm but gentle. “Maybe it started as a distraction, but it’s more than that now. You built something that people love, Y/N. People respect your work. And now, you’ve got all this time… Maybe this is your chance to really focus on it.”

Y/N finally looked up, her eyes heavy with doubt. “You think I can just switch from football to… fashion? Like it’s that easy?”

Katie smiled softly, placing a hand on Y/N’s knee. “I think you’ve got talent in both. And I think you need something to pour yourself into right now. You love fashion, Y/N. Every time you talk about your brand, you light up. It’s the only time recently I’ve seen you excited about anything.”

Y/N frowned, her mind racing. The clothing line had always been a passion project, something she did on the side, never something she imagined focusing on full-time. But Katie’s words stuck with her. Could this really be her new path?

“I don’t know…” Y/N muttered, her uncertainty palpable.

Katie gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to know everything right now. But just… try. Start designing again. Get involved in your brand like you used to. You’re still Y/N—the girl who built something incredible out of nothing. You’re more than just football, even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.”

Y/N stared down at her hands, the weight of Katie’s words slowly sinking in. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about her clothing line seriously. The injury had consumed her every thought, every worry, and she’d pushed everything else to the side.

But maybe… maybe Katie was right.

The next day, Katie took matters into her own hands. She surprised Y/N with a visit to the small design studio where Y/N used to work on her brand. Y/N hadn’t been there in months, too caught up in football and then her injury to even think about it.

As they walked in, Y/N hesitated, glancing around at the racks of clothes, the sketches pinned to the walls, the mood boards she’d abandoned in the chaos of her life.

Katie nudged her forward. “Come on, Y/N. This place used to be your sanctuary.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she stepped inside. Memories flooded back—late nights designing, the excitement of launching new collections, the thrill of seeing people wear her clothes. There was a spark inside her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Katie grinned, watching Y/N’s eyes light up as she walked around the studio. “You still love this, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded slowly, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Yeah… I do.”

“Then do something about it,” Katie urged. “Start designing again. Release something new. You’ve got the time now, Y/N. And you’ve got the talent.”

Y/N stared at the blank sketchpad on the table, her fingers itching to pick up a pencil. She hadn’t designed anything since before the injury, hadn’t let herself even think about fashion. But now, standing here, in the space she’d created, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Katie leaned against the table, her arms crossed, watching Y/N closely. “You could do an exclusive line or something. Work with one of the girls, make it special. Hell, you’ve already got half the team wearing your clothes, so you know they’re fans.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling a bit of the weight lift off her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I could.”

Katie’s smile widened. “There’s the Y/N I know. The girl who takes risks, who’s not afraid to go after what she wants.”

Y/N glanced at Katie, her heart warming at the sight of her best friend’s unwavering support. “What would I do without you?”

Katie shrugged, teasing. “Probably wallow in self-pity and eat all the ice cream in London.”

Y/N laughed, the sound a little lighter than it had been in weeks. She picked up the pencil, the feel of it familiar and comforting in her hand. Maybe this was what she needed—a new direction, a new purpose.

And she had Katie by her side, pushing her forward, believing in her even when she didn’t believe in herself.

With a deep breath, Y/N sat down at the table, flipping open the sketchpad. Her mind buzzed with ideas, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt excited about the future.

Katie moved to stand behind her, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this, Y/N. I know you do.”

Y/N smiled up at her, feeling the warmth of Katie’s words wrap around her like a safety net. “Thanks, Katie. For everything.”

“Always,” Katie replied softly, her eyes full of affection. “Now, show me what you’re working on. I might just have to be your first customer.”

Months after Y/N had rediscovered her passion for fashion, her clothing brand had taken off in ways she never imagined. With Katie’s constant encouragement and the support of her teammates, Y/N was back to designing full-time, pouring her heart and soul into every piece. She had launched a new collection, which had been met with rave reviews, and her reputation in the fashion world had only grown.

Then came the call that would change everything.

Arsenal’s board reached out to Y/N with an offer she never expected: they wanted her brand to collaborate with the club to design next season’s kit. It was an opportunity most designers could only dream of—a chance to combine her love for football with her passion for fashion, and to leave a lasting legacy with the club she’d once played for.

When she first got the call, Y/N was speechless, her mind racing with possibilities. Arsenal was her home, even though she could no longer play. This was her chance to stay connected with the sport and the team in a new way, while showcasing her brand on one of the biggest stages in football.

Katie was the first person Y/N told, of course. She nearly tackled Y/N in excitement when she heard the news.

“No way! You’re going to design the next Arsenal kit? That’s massive!” Katie exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement as she paced around their living room. “Do you know how many designers would kill for this opportunity?”

Y/N grinned, still processing the magnitude of it all. “Yeah, it’s pretty surreal.”

Katie stopped pacing and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders. “You’re going to crush this, Y/N. I know it.”

With Arsenal’s backing and a tight deadline, Y/N threw herself into the project. She wanted the kit to reflect not just the club’s heritage, but also the culture and creativity her brand had become known for. She spent weeks sketching, designing, and meeting with the Arsenal team to perfect the kit. It had to be bold, yet timeless. A symbol of strength, unity, and the passion of the fans and players alike.

Finally, the day came to unveil the design to the team.

Arsenal had arranged a private meeting for Y/N to reveal the kit to the players and staff before the official release. As she stood in front of the group, holding her breath, Katie sat at the front of the crowd, her grin encouraging Y/N from across the room.

Y/N cleared her throat, nerves buzzing through her body. “Alright, so… this is it,” she began, gesturing to the sleek cover over the mannequins that stood in the center of the room. “I wanted this kit to represent Arsenal’s legacy but also bring in something new, something fresh. A mix of tradition and the future.”

With a swift pull, Y/N uncovered the kits. The room went silent for a beat, and then a collective gasp of awe rippled through the crowd.

The home kit was stunning: a deep, rich red with subtle geometric patterns woven into the fabric, representing the architectural lines of the Emirates Stadium. The sleeves and collar featured sleek, modern white accents, while the famous Arsenal crest was outlined in gold, giving it a touch of elegance. It was bold yet classic, a perfect blend of Y/N’s fashion-forward designs and Arsenal’s storied history.

The away kit was a statement in itself—a striking black with intricate detailing of North London streets subtly mapped into the fabric. The fluorescent accents in Arsenal’s gold and red lit up the design, adding flair without losing the focus on its sophistication.

The third kit was more daring, with abstract patterns that paid homage to the diverse cultures and streetwear influences that inspired Y/N’s brand. It was an explosion of color—vibrant and fearless, just like Arsenal’s fighting spirit.

The players erupted in excitement.

“Mate, that’s unreal!” Leah Williamson shouted, her eyes wide with admiration as she stepped closer to the mannequins, running her fingers over the fabric. “This is next level, Y/N.”

Alessia Russo nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s fresh, but it still feels like Arsenal. You nailed it.”

The entire room buzzed with energy, players exchanging excited glances and murmuring about how amazing it would feel to step out on the pitch in Y/N’s designs.

Katie, of course, was practically vibrating with pride. “I told you! I told you, you were going to kill it!” she shouted, beaming at Y/N.

The team’s excitement filled Y/N with a deep sense of pride, and for the first time since her injury, she felt like she had a place again. She might not be playing on the pitch, but her contribution would live on in a way she’d never imagined.

The collaboration was set to be one of the biggest talking points of the upcoming season, with fans eagerly awaiting the official release. But behind the scenes, the players couldn’t contain their excitement about the kits they’d soon be wearing.

After the reveal, Jonas Eidevall approached Y/N with a genuine smile. “You’ve done something special here, Y/N. This isn’t just a kit—it’s a part of Arsenal now.”

Y/N blushed, overwhelmed by the response. “Thanks, Jonas. It means a lot, especially coming from you.”

Katie bounded over and threw her arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “We need a party to celebrate this, right?” she asked, winking at the group.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just a kit, Katie.”

“No, it’s not just a kit,” Leah interjected, grinning. “It’s the best kit Arsenal’s ever had, and you’re the genius behind it.”

Y/N smiled as the room erupted into applause, her heart swelling with a sense of belonging. She hadn’t lost everything after all. This was her purpose now. Her legacy, not just in football, but in a way that allowed her creativity to shine through.

And through it all, she had Katie by her side, pushing her to be more, reminding her of who she really was—even when Y/N had forgotten herself.

After the success of her Arsenal kit collaboration, Y/N had been riding a wave of inspiration. Her brand had grown exponentially, with new collections flying off the shelves, and her next big project was something she’d always dreamed of: an upscale luxury party wear line. Sleek, elegant, and designed for people who wanted to make a statement—this collection was her chance to branch out beyond streetwear and athletic fashion into something more high-end.

The timing couldn’t have been better. With the FIFA Best Awards coming up, several of Y/N’s Arsenal teammates were nominated, and they were all buzzing with excitement. Katie had been going on for weeks about what to wear, while Alessia, Leah, and the rest of the girls teased her relentlessly.

Y/N, of course, had an idea.

“What if I dressed you all for the awards?” she casually suggested one day during lunch at the training ground, her eyes glinting mischievously as she looked around the table.

The entire room went quiet for a moment as her words sunk in.

“What do you mean?” Alessia asked, wide-eyed.

“I mean, I’m working on a new line. Upscale, luxury party wear,” Y/N explained, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “I could design custom outfits for each of you to wear on the red carpet. Trust me, you’ll look incredible.”

The girls stared at her in stunned silence for a few seconds before Katie practically jumped out of her seat.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Katie asked, her eyes lighting up. “Y/N, you’ve been holding out on us!”

Leah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Luxury party wear, huh? I didn’t know you were venturing into that.”

Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while. And what better way to debut it than by having you lot wear it to the FIFA Best Awards?”

Katie shot out of her chair, throwing her arms around Y/N. “This is brilliant! I’m going to look so good, I’ll steal the show.”

Alessia grinned. “You mean we will steal the show.”

The excitement spread quickly as all the girls clamored for details, eager to hear what Y/N had in mind for their looks. Over the next few days, she met with each of them individually to discuss their style preferences, and soon the designs were underway.

A week before the awards, Y/N had the final fittings ready. She had converted part of her flat into a makeshift studio, where she could work on the dresses and suits and ensure they fit perfectly.

Katie was the first to try on her outfit, and she looked absolutely stunning. Y/N had designed her a sleek, black velvet jumpsuit with a deep V neckline and gold chain detailing at the waist. It was edgy, classy, and had just the right amount of boldness to match Katie’s personality.

“I feel like a bloody movie star,” Katie said, grinning as she looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to Y/N, giving her a playful wink. “You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N.”

“You haven’t even seen the others yet,” Y/N teased, adjusting one of the chains on Katie’s outfit. “Trust me, you’re all going to look incredible.”

Alessia’s dress was a soft champagne-colored satin gown with a high slit, delicate straps, and a low, open back. It was elegant and sophisticated, fitting her calm, graceful demeanor. She twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric flowing around her as she beamed at Y/N.

“This is gorgeous,” Alessia whispered, almost in awe. “I never thought I’d wear something like this.”

“You pull it off better than anyone,” Y/N replied, smiling as she watched Alessia’s reaction. “You’re going to turn heads for sure.”

Leah’s outfit was a tailored white suit with silver embellishments on the blazer. It was sharp, powerful, and oozed confidence—just like the woman wearing it. Leah glanced at herself in the mirror, the corners of her mouth curling into a pleased smirk.

“I like it. Strong, but not too much,” Leah said, turning to face Y/N. “How did you know this was exactly what I wanted?”

Y/N shrugged. “I pay attention. You’re a natural in it.”

One by one, the rest of the girls came in for their fittings, each one stunned by the craftsmanship and attention to detail in their custom looks. The excitement in the room was palpable as the FIFA Best Awards drew closer, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched her teammates react to the pieces she had created.

The night of the awards arrived, and Y/N’s designs were finally revealed to the world.

As the team arrived at the red carpet, photographers’ flashes lit up the night, capturing every moment. Katie strutted confidently, her black velvet jumpsuit catching the light with every step. Leah walked beside her, radiating power in her white suit, while Alessia’s satin gown shimmered under the camera flashes.

The media went wild, and the questions started pouring in.

“Who are you wearing?” one reporter asked Katie.

Katie grinned, pointing to Y/N who stood at the back of the group, dressed in her own chic black ensemble. “It’s all Y/N’s brand. She designed everything.”

Y/N couldn’t help but blush as the attention shifted to her. “I just wanted them to feel as confident and amazing as they are,” she said, trying to stay humble as the cameras focused on her.

The girls laughed and pulled her into the spotlight, posing with her for the cameras. They were all glowing, not just from the glamour of the night but from the bond they shared and the confidence that Y/N’s designs had given them.

As the night continued and they mingled with other players and celebrities, people kept stopping them to ask about their outfits, praising Y/N’s designs and her talent.

“You really knocked it out of the park,” Katie whispered to Y/N at one point, her arm slung around her best friend’s shoulders. “Everyone’s talking about your line. This is going to blow up.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “Thanks, Katie. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Katie grinned. “Yeah, but don’t forget—I looked the best tonight.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, McCabe.”

As the night went on, Y/N realized that her journey was far from over. The success of her brand was only just beginning, and with her friends by her side, she felt unstoppable. Fashion, football, friendship—she had it all, and she couldn’t wait to see where it would take her next.

The FIFA Best Awards night had barely wrapped up, but the buzz surrounding Y/N’s luxury party wear collection hadn’t died down. Social media was flooded with photos of the Arsenal girls in their custom outfits, and fans were clamoring for more. Y/N was overwhelmed with messages—praise for her designs, inquiries from fashion insiders, and countless new followers. Her brand had already made a name for itself in the streetwear scene, but this was something else entirely. This was a whole new level.

A few days after the awards, Y/N received an unexpected message. A famous fashion designer, someone she had admired from afar for years, had reached out.

"Would love to meet. I have an exciting opportunity for you. Let me know when you're free. — Adrien Duval."

Adrien Duval was one of the biggest names in high fashion. Known for pushing boundaries and creating art through clothing, his shows were the talk of every major fashion week. Y/N had grown up admiring his work, and now, here he was, reaching out to her.

Excitement coursed through her as she replied, setting up a meeting at a high-end café in central London. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but Y/N kept it cool as she arrived at the café, trying to hide the fact that she was, in fact, completely starstruck.

When she walked in, she immediately spotted Adrien sitting at a table near the window, sipping on an espresso. He looked exactly as she’d imagined—tall, impeccably dressed, with an aura of effortless style and authority. When he saw her, he stood up and offered a warm smile.

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure,” Adrien greeted, shaking her hand. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Y/N replied, trying not to let her nerves show as they sat down. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this. You’re… well, you're an icon.”

Adrien chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re too kind. But I have to say, I’ve been keeping an eye on your work. Your collection at the FIFA Best Awards—it was spectacular. The perfect combination of boldness and elegance. You’ve got something special, Y/N.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck, but she nodded. “Thank you. I’m just trying to push the boundaries a little.”

“And you’re doing it brilliantly,” Adrien replied, his tone sincere. He leaned in slightly, his expression more serious now. “I’ve come to you with an opportunity. London Fashion Week is approaching, and I think your brand would be a perfect fit. I’d like to offer you the chance to host your own show.”

Y/N blinked, not quite sure if she’d heard him right. “You’re serious?”

Adrien nodded. “I don’t say this lightly. Your work is fresh, innovative, and it's time for the world to see that on the biggest stage. Your brand is already turning heads, but a show at London Fashion Week could catapult you to another level.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, trying to process what he was saying. A fashion show at London Fashion Week. The pinnacle of high fashion, where the most elite designers showcased their collections. It was an opportunity she had always dreamed about, but never imagined would come so soon.

“What do you think?” Adrien asked, watching her reaction closely.

“I… wow, I don’t even know what to say,” Y/N admitted, still in a bit of shock. “It’s an incredible offer. I’d love to do it.”

Adrien smiled, clearly pleased with her response. “Excellent. I had a feeling you’d be up for the challenge. The logistics can be worked out later, but I wanted to make sure I extended the invitation personally. You’re going to do great things, Y/N, and I want to be a part of it.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of excitement and planning. Adrien explained the process, how the show would work, and what Y/N would need to prepare in the coming months. He offered advice, tips, and even suggested a few big-name models who could potentially walk in her show.

By the time Y/N left the café, her mind was racing. London Fashion Week. She could hardly believe it. The opportunity felt surreal, but she knew she was ready. Her passion for fashion, the endless nights of designing, and her dedication to her brand had all led to this moment. Now, it was her chance to take it to the next level.

As she walked down the street, her phone buzzed with a message from Katie.

Katie: "Heard you had a meeting. What’s up?"

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she typed back her response.

Y/N: "Just got asked to do a show at London Fashion Week."

Katie: "SHUT UP. Are you serious?!"

Y/N: "Dead serious."

There was a pause, and then her phone rang. Y/N answered with a laugh. “You couldn’t just text?”

Katie’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “London Fashion Week? Y/N, that’s massive! I knew you were killing it, but this is next level. We’re all coming to that show, no question.”

Y/N smiled, her heart warm at the support from her best friend. “Thanks, Katie. I’m still wrapping my head around it, but yeah, it’s happening.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Katie said, her tone softer now. “You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard.”

Y/N felt a lump in her throat at Katie’s words. “Thanks, McCabe. You’ve been there every step of the way.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Katie promised. “You better make me something killer to wear to the show.”

Y/N laughed. “You know I’ve got you covered.”

As she hung up, Y/N looked out at the city around her, her heart swelling with gratitude and excitement. The journey had only just begun, but she knew, with Katie and the rest of the team by her side, there was nothing she couldn’t achieve.

London Fashion Week, here she came.

The night of London Fashion Week had arrived, and the buzz surrounding Y/N’s debut show was electric. Backstage, the energy was palpable—models getting last-minute touch-ups, stylists tweaking outfits, and assistants running around to make sure everything was perfect. Y/N stood off to the side, watching the chaos unfold, her heart pounding in her chest. She had spent months designing this collection, pouring her soul into each piece, and now, it was finally about to be shown to the world.

But something else weighed heavy on her mind.

For so long, football had been her identity. It was the only thing she knew growing up, the only thing she ever dreamed about. But after her career-ending injury, it was as if a part of her had died. She’d been searching for a way to fill that void, and while her clothing line had given her something to focus on, she had never fully accepted that she could truly leave football behind. It was still there, haunting her in the background, a reminder of what could have been.

Katie and a few of her Arsenal teammates were sitting front row, all dressed in pieces from her collection, cheering her on. They’d been her biggest supporters through everything, but Katie had always been the one to push her, to remind her that there was life beyond football. Tonight felt like a culmination of all the hard work, the sleepless nights, the creative struggles—but more than that, it felt like a chance to finally let go.

The lights in the venue dimmed, and the music began to pulse through the speakers. It was time. Y/N took a deep breath, nodding to her team, and the first model stepped out onto the runway.

As each look made its way down the catwalk, Y/N felt a strange mix of emotions. Pride, relief, excitement—but also a sense of closure. The crowd was in awe, their eyes glued to the collection she had crafted with her own hands. Every piece told a story, not just of her as a designer but of her journey—her pain, her growth, her evolution.

Katie caught her eye from the front row, giving her a thumbs up and mouthing, “You’re killing it.” Y/N smiled, feeling her heart swell with gratitude. This was her new purpose, her new path.

The final look came out, and the applause was deafening. Y/N could barely hear herself think as the models lined up for the final walk. She stepped out onto the runway with them, feeling the weight of the moment hit her. The crowd stood up, giving her a standing ovation, but all Y/N could focus on was the sense of peace settling over her.

She walked the length of the runway, giving a small wave to the audience, but when she reached the end, she found Katie’s eyes again. There was a knowing look in them, as if Katie understood exactly what Y/N was feeling. And in that moment, Y/N knew.

She could finally let go.

As the applause faded and the lights dimmed, Y/N stood there, taking it all in. Football had been her first love, and losing it had broken her in ways she never thought possible. But standing on that runway, basking in the glow of her success as a designer, she realized she didn’t need football anymore. She had found something else, something that allowed her to express herself in ways she never could on the pitch.

Backstage, as the models and crew celebrated the success of the show, Y/N found a quiet corner to sit down. She needed a moment to breathe, to process what had just happened. Katie found her shortly after, sliding into the seat next to her, nudging her playfully.

“You did it,” Katie said, her voice full of pride. “That was incredible.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back against the wall. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

“It’s only the beginning,” Katie reminded her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “But I think you know that.”

Y/N nodded, exhaling deeply. “Yeah. I think… I think I’m ready to move on.”

Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of her words. “For the longest time, I was holding on to this idea that I couldn’t be anything without football. But tonight… I felt like I found something that fills that part of me. I think I can finally accept that it’s okay to let football go.”

Katie squeezed her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You’ve come so far. And look at what you’ve built. It’s incredible.”

Y/N smiled, feeling lighter than she had in years. “Thank you, Katie. For everything. I don’t think I could’ve gotten here without you.”

Katie grinned, pulling her into a side hug. “You’ve always had it in you, mate. I just gave you a little push.”

Y/N laughed, but there were tears in her eyes as she hugged Katie back. For the first time since her injury, she didn’t feel like she had lost anything. She had gained something new—a purpose, a passion, and a future.

And now, she was ready to embrace it fully.

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

The End

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Kinda oddly embarrassed to send this but oh my god your art is so pleasing to look at for some reason

I think it's just the soft shapes you use and how amazingly 3D everything tends to look?? Like the angles and proportions are just so perfect that I find it easy to imagine most of what you draw as a 3D model or something

And like I don't think I could nail it like you (maybe with time!!) But I am definitely taking inspiration from it because it DOES get me thinking about how you use shapes and angles and wonder if I could practice that because oh my god I wish I could absorb your art

Do you have methods or techniques to make it look so 3D? if you know what I mean? I tend to use grids to try and map out the shapes in a vaguely 3D plane, so I was wondering if you had tips kinda like that to share with the class? or if you're just winging it and it's a lot of practice?

Thank you so much!!! It really means a lot to me when others take inspiration from my art, it reminds me of all the artists I used to look up to and emulate when I was first starting out on MSPaint with a broken trackpad for a pen, you don’t have to be embarrassed! You’ll definitely be able to harness 3D space and create fantastic work, you’re already well on your way! Having passion and a desire to learn will take you far :)

My biggest focus whenever I draw is to make the characters feel real, as though you could reach out and enter the space they’re in to sit next to them on the couch. I’m so glad that I’m able to pull it off! Thanks for the rose, I’ll be sure to cherish it :)

As for my methods and techniques…

Drawing on a 3D grid plane is definitely something I do! Its perfect for comic panels or storyboards, to set the scene and ground characters or props to their environment.

I did a lot of classical study, that is life drawing and still life drawing, but simply using reference for buildings and anatomy also helps a lot and is a lot easier to find. I’d also sketch my hands, plastic animals, and my surroundings, as well as people watch for inspiration for character mannerisms or fashion. It’s useful to know a little bit about the inner workings of anatomy, as there are places were bone makes a person inflexible, while places with more muscle or fat are affected by things like gravity or pressure that change their shape. Drawing a flour sac to act out different emotions is a great way to practice weight and character acting!

Having studied animation, I did a lot of turnarounds to get characters consistent and able to be rotated in 3D space. It can be pretty tedious for some people, but it really does help solidify the characters’ shapes and design, and serves as great reference to look back on if you need it! If you don’t want to do something so stiff as a turnaround, simply drawing expressions and poses from dynamic angles helps too. I’ve found that breaking a character down into basic shapes that are easy to draw in a 3D plane also can help my anatomy and foreshortening be more accurate.

Most importantly, find something that brings you joy to draw! Every “traditional” method of study can be applied to things you like, so don’t feel the need to burn out thinking you can only draw the Mona Lisa or whatever. I’ve done anatomy studies on the Rise turtles to figure out their skeletal structure, and friends of mine have painted some mind blowing concept art inspired by Sonic and D&D!

I hope this helps some? Best of luck, and have fun! :D

Below are a couple of examples of some of my studies:

[narislvr]

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

[twost3ps]

Since ya doing au and made Emily Michael and Adam's daughter what about an au where Charlie is Lucifer and Adam's daughter just curious how that would come out of your artistic mind. Love ur art is PEAK bro

AWWW thank you so much!!!! AUSGEHYSGEUSGSUWBSBS

But totes I’ve had thought of this b4. Thank you for giving this prompt so I had an excuse to draw and write it out!!!

An au where Adam and Lucifer are Charlie’s dad… umm well there are a couple of ways this could go….

But the first that comes to mind is the one where Adam falls with Lucifer and they have Charlie. Idk if either Lucifer seahorses it and has the baby or if Adam is the one that carries. Idk first man sure, but yk maybe god was like: hey idk what genitals to slap on this guy so let’s do both and gave him both. When Lilith’s gender was determined, it was a flip of a coin. Adam could have just been the mother if it landed on the other side lol. Or maybe if he falls, god strips him of his title as a man, like Lilith, and swaps his genitals. So basically intersex Adam.

Either way, silly girl Charlie, here ya go! (I don't draw her enough)

Even as Adam's kid, I don't actually think Charlie changes all that much. Personality wise, at least. She is very much like her dad lucifur- a silly lovable dreamer- but some of Adam still leaks through, obviously. She's definitely a mommy's girl, and in this case, I'd like to think Adam is the mom figure. So instead of taking liliths more regal and more elegant choices of fashion and way of goinh, she takes on more of a punk and grunge look with a mix of her original style and a bit more agression.

For her looks I think she'd have dirty blonde hair and it would be short (it's my preference, lol), and her clothes are a bit more... punk? She dresses much more losely imo , def because of Adam. She keeps her horns out for the fun of it and her emo face still kinda stays with her, especially after Adam praising her for her look when she was in that phase. She does some sick eyeliner and eyshadow. She HAS to play an instrument so she knows the bass and strangly enough the keytar. I also think she's a bit chubbier because she maybe shared her dad's appetite idk.

But overall, she is still a sweet girl with a dream to help sinners. She's just way more assertive and quick tempered.

I won't lie, I got inspired by one of my friends' relationships with her dad and both lovingly insult each other to death. They talk about how much they "hate" eachother, but everyone clearly understands that both would die for one another for sure, especially Adam.

He may say something like. "Oh Charlie? Yeah if it were up to me I'd sell her for a new guitar" right infront of her but she's laughing so hard as Adam holds her close in a side hug because she knows he's joking.

Idk how to explain it but ifkyk, they lovingly talk bad about eachother but somehow it makes you understand that they really do love eachother as parent and child.

As for Adam and Lucifurs relationship, I genuinely dunno. I kinda want them to be a bit strained because even after the fall, Adam is still loyal to heaven. He's not lilith, who wants freedom - Adam likes security, and even if rule under heaven is restrictive, atleast hes safe. Charlie, to Adam, is one of the only good things that ever came out of the fall, and he would fall again and again just so she could be his. Like Lilith, Charlie is mainly parented by Adam, but it's because Charlie was the only shining light Adam had down in hell. Overtime Adam and Lucifur possibly heal and truly get together, but when Charlie was really young, they were not an item at all.

Then there are other options of Charlie being Lucifur and Adam's baby-

Charlie is born under an angel Adam and fallen lucifur and Adam decides to take Charlie and raise her in heaven

Adam is in no way related to Charlie, but one way or meets her and kinda just adopts her. Lucifur doesn't know why but Adam stakes claim ig

There are more potential ones but I'm not really a writer or an idea maker lol. IM NOT THAT CREATINVE SJVDEHBSBS But I think that this is just a great concept lolol a bit harder to work with than the secret royal family stuff but still fun to think about overall

I might come back to this one day o3o

[rekindlevn]

Shdhjfkd hello!!

I’m so super excited for the extended demo now omg, I’m sure y’all have been working overtime for it!! (Waiting very patiently for a release date now 🥰)

I was curious though, I’ve seen lots of facts about Jules and Markus, (which are all amazing, and I love to see them,) but do y’all have any fun facts about Niko to share?

Anyways, I hope you guys are doing well!! Make sure y’all are staying hydrated!! 💕💕💕

Thank you so much your lovely words! We have been keeping safe and hydrated! (though one writer asks if living off Monsters counts as hydrated and we might need an intervention) Glad you love all the boys but Niko tidbit huh? Niko is best known for his modeling, and he does love it, but his true passion lies in CREATING fashion. He’s been sewing since he was very young, moving from altering his clothes to building his own from patterns before ultimately making them from scratch.

Give that man a needle and thread, and he is SET.

art by the illustrious @minthe-drawings

[cecilysass]

Honest Man (1/3)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter One

He almost never goes out to bars in Alexandria, and when he does, he’s typically in some kind of despairing mood. But Mulder isn’t despairing tonight. He’s hopeful.

It’s hope tempered with some reservation, of course. He’s not stupid—the other shoe can always drop—but there’s definitely a feeling that there could be less troubled paths ahead. If all goes well.

The pub is crowded, so he stands in the entrance scanning the room for her, feeling strangely awkward, like an adolescent boy. He jogged a little to get here at the time they arranged, and Mulder’s uncomfortably sweating now in his work clothes. He loosens his collar and tie.

She’s sitting with stately posture at a side booth, a menu propped in front of her. She spots him and raises a single hand.

He eagerly makes his way across the room, ducking in between the people making their way to get a drink at the bar, and slips into the seat across from her. “Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m used to it, Fox,” she says, coolly amused. Diana slides him a menu. “It’s given me plenty of time to look over the culinary options here at the Honest Man Pub.” She draws out the name of the bar in an affected way, a little mockingly.

He smirks at her. “Come on. Who doesn’t like an Honest Man, Diana?”

“Who indeed.” She smiles tightly. “As it happens, I remember your taste in restaurants, so I’m not surprised.”

“Mozzarella sticks,” he says, pointing a finger at the menu enthusiastically. “You want to share some? I’m starving.”

“No thanks. I ordered a negroni.”

“Look,” Mulder gestures towards a woodcut illustration of Abraham Lincoln on the cover of the menu. “It’s Honest Abe, Diana. Trustworthy. You sure you don’t want a burger or something?”

“I’m really not hungry,” she says. But she, too, flips the menu over to look at it. She traces Lincoln’s face with her fingertip. “You think it’s supposed to be a reference to that story about chopping down the cherry tree?”

“That was George Washington.” Mulder sets the menu down and gives her a mildly admonishing look.

“What? I’m no historian,” she says dismissively. “And what politician has the luxury of honesty anyway?”

Diana’s not wearing her work clothes, he notices in surprise. Unless she wears a form-fitting black dress to work, and he doesn’t think she does. He chews his lip, wondering why she bothered to go home to change, especially because he’s pretty sure she lives in DC.

After the server passes by, and Mulder orders his beer and mozzarella sticks, he turns his attention back to her. “Well? What’s up?” He folds his hands on the table. “You made it sound like good news.”

Her cocktail is placed directly in front of her, and she murmurs a polite thanks to the server. “Potentially it is,” she says. “I need your help on a case, and I think if you do well, it could be … a step in the right direction.”

He tries to play it cool, even though this is exactly what he hoped. “My help? Did Kersh have a personality transplant or something?”

“This would be outside of official channels,” she explains. “At first, anyway.”

There are several cardboard coasters on the table with quotes printed on them in homey, old-fashioned typeface. The one nearest Mulder reads: “An honest man is always a child. - Socrates.” He pushes the coaster around the table with his fingertip, nodding slowly. “I’m listening.”

“There have been a series of credible sightings of unusual crafts flying low outside of Groom Lake,” she says in a low voice. She sips her drink, meeting his eyes. “I know you’ve probably been following it. Kersh doesn’t want Jeffrey and I to spend too much time there. But you could go.”

“Under what auspices?”

“It would have to be extracurricular.” She shrugs, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, Fox.”

“Shiner Bock,” the server says cheerfully, setting a bottle down in front of Mulder. “Your mozzarella sticks should be out soon.”

“Thanks,” says Mulder. As the server darts off, he takes a slow sip, mulling over Diana’s words. “How would this be a step in the right direction?”

Diana leans towards him, her glass resting against her cheek. “Jeffrey and I have received some information about experimental craft at Groom Lake,” she says softly. “If we could put that together with your field work—and what you already have in the files—then we could have a report they’d have to take seriously.”

Mulder can’t help but feel excited, but he takes pains to mask it, chuckling cynically. “I’ve been down this road before, Diana.” He shrugs. “It never amounts to much. Plus, Kersh is already looking for any reason to chuck me out of the Bureau. This could easily be it.”

She reaches across the table and clasps his hand tight. “Not if I have your back.”

He frowns a little, confused by her meaning. She’s much more open to this than he expected. Still, his whole soul cries out to get back to working on the X-files. It’s almost all he thinks about these days. If there is a way forward here, he needs to hear all of it.

“We’ve always made a good team,” Diana points out. “We could be again. And this is your life’s work. You’re wasted in the bullpen.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says uneasily, “but what would—”

“I knew it.” interrupts a booming voice startlingly close to their table.

Mulder looks up blankly, and it takes him a half second to place the tall, pink-faced man towering angrily over them.

He knows Bill Scully’s face very well—associates it with some of his most emotionally vulnerable moments, in fact—but seeing it here in this Virginia bar, out of context, gives him a moment’s pause.

“I just knew it,” repeats Bill, his eyes narrowing. He squints down at Mulder murderously. “You’re not even worth … one of her goddamn pinky toes, you no good son of a bitch.”

“Bill,” Mulder murmurs, staring back. The man seems to be swaying slightly from side to side as he spits words out, as though he’s insulting Mulder on rough seas. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

Bill leans over, placing a palm flat on the table, and Mulder can distinctly smell whiskey on his breath.

“You have some nerve,” Bill hisses. “This is how you treat her? After everything you’ve done? Now you’re just out … on some date?”

Diana gives him a significant, questioning look, and Mulder straightens in his seat, his eyes scanning behind Bill’s back for a sign of who might be accompanying him. “I think you‘ve had a few too many tonight,” Mulder attempts genially. “You’re not making much sense. Why don’t I—”

“Why don’t you shut your damn mouth for once in your life?” Bill bellows. The group of young people at the next table looks over, watching them now, their expressions half interested and half alarmed.

Bill turns his attention to Diana, pointing one of his large fingers at her like a scolding father, even though Mulder is pretty sure Diana is at least Bill’s age, if not older. “What do you know about this guy, miss?” His words are definitely slurring. “How much did he tell you? Did you know he’s a dangerous sonofabitch?”

Diana smiles stiffly. “I’m safe, thank you.”

“Well, when he asked you out,” Bill says to her, gesturing sloppily, “did he mention he’s been fucking my sister for years? Destroying her life? Breaking her heart?”

He knows Bill’s drunk, and he knows Bill doesn’t have his facts right, but Mulder can’t help feeling the sting of shame over what he’s being accused of. Part of it, anyway. He hears himself inhale sharply by reflex.

Diana’s eyebrows have arched in surprise. She looks pointedly at Mulder. “Oh? Is that right? Who’s your sister?”

“My sister Dana,” Bill spits out, slamming his hand on the table for emphasis. “My baby sister.”

“Ah,” Diana responds conversationally. “You’re Agent Scully’s brother.” She seems unfazed by this information. “We both work with her, actually. Why don’t you join us for a moment?”

She scoots over in her seat, gesturing calmly to the spot next to her. Mulder doesn’t move, paralyzed with horror at the way this is unfolding.

Bill looks at Diana a moment, his jaw clenched, and then, to Mulder’s shock, slides in next to her in the booth, turning to direct his glare at Mulder.

For a moment Mulder just stares, slack-jawed, back into the man’s furious face. Bill seems to be waiting for something—for Mulder to explain himself, probably.

“This … isn’t a date,” Mulder begins, pointing between Diana and himself. “It’s work. And you need to understand that your sister and I aren’t in a romantic relationship either. Or a, uh, sexual relationship.”

Bill chuckles, shaking his head slowly, then abruptly changes mood, pounding his fist loudly and suddenly on the table and causing both Diana and Mulder to startle.

“Then why?” he demands, meeting Mulder’s eyes intensely in a way that reminds him, unsettlingly, of Scully. “Why does she do it? Why does she put up with you?”

“I … really don’t know,” Mulder admits miserably. “You’d have to ask her.”

“I know my sister,” Bill says, his features softening a little. “There are only … a few reasons why she would do it.” His tone goes cold. “Does she know you’re on a date?”

“No,” Mulder answers quickly, “but it’s not a—”

“I hate you,” Bill leans forward to whisper to him. “I hate you for what you’ve put her through. Now you’re cheating. On a fucking date. Jesus.”

“Yo, Scully,” comes a masculine voice from the bar. “Where’d you go?” Mulder looks around nervously, half expecting to see his partner, but of course the voice is calling for Bill. A group of men in their 30s and 40s, all with square shoulders and military haircuts, seem to be looking in this direction. Bill doesn’t even look back at them.

“You don’t understand,” Mulder says. He feels panicky and anxious. “It’s not a date. And Scully’s my partner, not my—”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” Bill groans. He slides out of the booth. “Don’t you ever get tired of your annoying-ass voice?”

He does, actually, more often than one might think.

“Bill, wait, are you—” Mulder stops suddenly.

He realizes what he was about to ask—are you going to tell Scully that you saw us here?—sounds completely at odds with what he has been telling Bill, what he has been telling himself. That question doesn’t make him sound like a partner out talking about work with a colleague.

It makes him sound like he thinks he’s doing something wrong, something he needs to hide.

The truth is that he does think Scully would be angry to know he’d met Diana here. She would be angry for a whole snarl of tangled reasons—and yeah, hurt, like Bill says. He doesn’t especially want her to know.

“Am I what?” Bill sneers, turning back around jerkily.

“Are you … okay to get home?” Mulder mumbles. “You have a ride?”

Bill gives him a look of withering contempt. “That’s none of your fucking business.” He turns and staggers back towards the bar.

Mulder watches him go, trying to swallow back his self-loathing. He realizes after a second that his fists are clenched.

“Fox,” Diana says in concern. “Are you all right?”

He says nothing for a beat, making a game attempt to pull himself back together.

“Yeah,” he says to Diana. He takes a fast swig of beer. “That guy—he, uh, just really hates me.”

“I gathered,” Diana says. She looks at Mulder appraisingly. “You seem to be taking what he says awfully seriously.”

“Well,” Mulder says grimly into his beer, “it’s just he’s not entirely wrong.”

Diana leans back in the booth, lifts her glass to her beautiful lips, and takes a careful sip. “No,” she says coolly, “he’s not.”

Mulder exhales raggedly. “Gee, Diana,” he says, “don’t hold back how you feel on my account.”

“He’s wrong about plenty,” she breathes. “He underestimates you, like most people do. But he’s not wrong that your work has hurt Agent Scully.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he snaps at her. He pauses to compose himself. “I don’t want Scully to be hurt,” he says in a more controlled voice. “I never have. Her choices are her own.”

“And your choices are your own,” Diana says. Her eyes are dark and shining. “You know, Fox, I hope that if all goes well with this initial foray at Groom Lake, we might all be a little more ambitious in our choices.”

Mulder shakes his head rapidly, still rattled by the encounter with Bill. “Ambitious in our choices how?”

“Well,” she says. “Thinking longer term, I don’t know if Jeffrey is working out on the X-files. I think he might prefer to be elsewhere at the Bureau. And if he does… then I’d be asked for my preference in a partner.”

Mulder looks up quickly. “And you’d … want to work with me?”

“Of course,” she says, giving him an inviting look. “Who else would I want?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. Mulder toys with a coaster on the table idly.

“Do you think they’d even listen to you?” he wonders. “They’re really not my biggest fans right now. Kersh in particular.”

She fishes an ice cube out of her drink, sucks on it a little. Then she meets his eyes, and there is a dangerous spark. “I can be very persuasive, Fox.”

Mulder’s fingertip worries the corner of the cardboard coaster back and forth, back and forth. He hasn’t asked the biggest question. “And what about Scully?”

“What about her?”

“I couldn’t … leave Scully behind in the bullpen.”

“Without you,” Diana says, sipping her drink, “she wouldn’t be in the bullpen for very long. They would give her a better placement in no time. She’s only stuck there because of you.”

Mulder’s eyes remain on the scuffed tabletop as he considers the truth of this statement. Scully certainly is only being punished because of her links to the X-files. Were she cut free from him, she probably would be given a fresh start.

“I don’t know,” he says bleakly. “I don’t know if I could even do it without her.”

Diana makes an exasperated hiss. “Fox,” she says. “Of course you could. What is this codependency you’ve developed? You weren’t like this before.”

Mulder rubs the bridge of his nose. “Diana, I–”

“Mozzarella sticks,” announces their server, his voice surreally peppy as he places the basket on the table. Mulder nods and smiles miserably, his eyes down on the fried cheese.

As the server walks away, Diana reaches over and places her hand over his. It’s light and soft as silk. “I could be the partner you need, Fox,” she says softly. “If you give me a chance.”

Her fingers now are caressing his hand lightly. Mulder’s taken aback. “I remember … how to calm you down,” she adds, almost a whisper. “How to reduce your stress.” She runs her fingertip down the back of his hand, a subtle but effective gesture. “And I’m not someone who is easily hurt.”

As opposed to Scully? he wonders. Is that what Scully is? Easily hurt? Is that why I’ve hurt her so much?

Somewhere to Mulder’s left there is a loud discussion at the bar. Despite Diana’s surprising advances, Mulder finds his attention drifting over there. He recognizes Bill’s voice, speaking loudly to the bartender, and looks for him in the crowd.

“I’ll tell you what,” Diana adds, reaching out with her finger to gently direct his chin back towards her. “Come over tonight.” Under the table he feels her foot brush against his calf, ostensibly accidentally, and she’s successfully got his full attention back. “We can discuss your Groom Lake fieldwork more privately. I can … convince you of everything else.”

Mulder closely watches her face, every nuance of her expression. “Oh yeah?” he says guardedly.

“Hey folks, you doing all right here? Need ketchup or anything?” The energetic server is suddenly smiling broadly next to the table, hands on his hips, and Mulder can sense Diana’s annoyance from across the table.

“We’re fine,” Mulder says, still staring at Diana, “but I’m going to need to get these mozzarella sticks to go. And our checks, please.”

“Coming right up.” The server obligingly darts away.

Diana’s foot brushes up his calf again, this time with less pretense of accident. “Is that a yes, then?” she says, the barest hint of a smile.

In the background, Mulder is aware of a flurry of activity at the bar—the bartender’s voice firmly declaring something about someone not being served any more.

He looks back at Diana, who looks very beautiful, curvy and enticing in the dress he now realizes was strategically chosen to showcase her body for him.

Then his eyes fall down to one of the coasters on the table. He reads it, then reaches down and picks it up impulsively, sliding it in his pocket.

“Diana,” he says, suddenly sounding more certain than he expects, “I’m going to have to get back to you.”

***

[confusedasever]

I love your human designs!! Did something inspire them? Especially Logans and Virgils

How I made the human au designs!

All my designs are based off common fandom headcanons I’ve seen and enjoyed. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious lol. I loved taking inspiration from the other amazing human fander artists out there. It’s like a group project also isn’t it cute how the “light” sides hair goes one way and the “dark” sides hair goes the other? That was accidental.

(Fun fact a former dear friend helped with the designs of Patton and Virgil. So props to them. Thanks star!)

The designs:

🌩️Virgil: short, black hair, purple streak to look cool, (the eyes were my friends idea) really good fashion. He’s part of the freckle club. Plus he has pointy elf ears! Often wears earrings and is haunted by the ghosts of his past. My friend did the heavy lifting so if you like Virgil’s design thank them.

🪐Logan: tbh it’s just character designs I like + normal Logan, dark eyes, eye bags, freckles, ties, glasses, why change perfection any more than you have to right? I just draw him like first try every time too it’s scary lol he just appears

🍰Patton: (Another design I got help with) rounder body type, fluffy curly blonde hair, round glasses freckle club member. Manages to look like the worlds cutest man. He’s the only one with a fully rendered drawing. Logan steals his clothes.

🥇🥈Roman & Remus: these identical twins look like Alex and Alex’s evil twin from stardew valley ngl but they’re designs are inspired by Roman typically being coloured tanner than the others. Remus dresses like he wants attention, Roman dresses like he’s a cartoon character. They’re ahoge’s are crowns cause why not?

🐍Janus: first Janus appearance. Pale, angular and blonde. The scales are now a scar that covers most of his body. (Blind and dead on that side) Still managing to slay. Even if he dresses very oddly. Tries to look rich looks lame instead. Kinda a bad person. Sorry Janus at least you still have a hat. I hate drawing hats.

☕️🍬Remy&Emile both have designs but tbh they’re pretty much entirely just ocs me and my friend made very loosely based on sander sides so idk if I’ll ever share them.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I was thinking about the Voice, and how much people outside of the Bene Gesserit actually know about how it works, and how much Chani understands about what's happening to her while she's being controlled by Jessica, and now we have fic. (pspsps more Paul x Chani here if you like this.)

Just imagine this is one of the times they come back to the sietch, some time before Paul drinks the Water of Life.

"What is the Voice?" she asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

They're sitting in her yali, both of them with their battle kit spread out on the floor around them, cleaning and repairing and restocking what's needed after weeks in the desert.

Usul has his own rooms, in a branch of the sietch near his mother, but there are always...hangers-on lingering outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Mahdi. Those people have learned by now that she won't hesitate to draw a knife on them if they come around here.

His gaze flicks up when she asks the question. But he doesn't ask where she heard about it, or why she's curious now.

"It's a Bene Gesserit skill," he says, eyes focused on the rip in his stillsuit he is mending. "A way to control people. Make them do what you want."

"So your mother can do it?"

"Yeah. She's a master at it."

"Is that what...all this is?" She gestures vaguely around her, to the corridors where increasing numbers of people keep wanting to bow to him.

"No." He gives a rueful smile. "That's just good old-fashioned propaganda. The Voice doesn't work on large groups of people. It's individual. Everyone has a specific pitch that reaches them."

He seems to know a lot about it. "Can you do it?" she asks.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then he says, "Yes. Sometimes."

"Let's see it, then."

"What?" He looks up sharply this time.

"Go on, I'm curious," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Voice me."

"No." He has that little half-smile on his face, the one he gets when he's nervous or embarrassed about something.

"Why not?" she asks, because now that he's refused so flatly she is curious. He is usually so eager to share, to teach and learn. She's not sure why this is different.

"You'll hate it," he says, and now she has to make him do it, because she'll decide that for herself, thank you very much.

She goes straight for the argument she knows will convince him. "If it's a weapon, I should know how it works. Right?"

After a minute he sighs and says, "Yeah. All right."

He sets his stillsuit and the patch kit aside. Sits with his hands on his knees for a long moment, watching her with an unreadable expression. She holds his gaze, because she's used to other people finding him a little uncanny by now, but he's always seemed like just a person to her.

The longer she watches him, though, the more it feels like there's a charge building in the air around them, like the crackling feeling on the wind that tells you a sandstorm is coming before you can see it.

"I'm going to tell you to stand up," he says, his voice quiet and even.

"Okay. Can I resist?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "You can try." He exhales a long breath and lets his eyes drift closed.

She's ready to be indignant about that, but then he opens his eyes and says, "Stand."

His voice is hardly louder than a quiet conversation, but it reaches into her like a physical force. Her muscles simply move without her input. She is on her feet before the thought of resistance occurs to her.

The jarring feeling of foreign control is gone as instantly as it arose. She stares down at him, and the surge of sick horror in her gut must show on her face, because he winces.

"I told you," he says. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his knees up to his chest, turning his face away.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, like her body knows something hostile has been done to it. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths. There is no danger here, just Usul sitting on the floor looking miserable next to her.

She makes herself sit back down, landing heavily on the low step up to the bed platform behind them.

"Have you been able to do that this whole time?"

"Kind of." He's still not looking at her. "It doesn't always work for me. It takes years of study to learn to use it the way my mother can, at any time on anyone."

She shivers at the thought.

"It was easier with you because I know you." His voice is low and guilty. "I knew the right pitch."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I can't really explain it, I just knew."

She realizes now that his hesitance hadn't been secrecy or false modesty, but fear.

She gets up off the ledge and moves over to sit down next to him, her shoulder bumping against his.

He turns toward her suddenly. "You know I would never...for real--"

"I know," she says. He's still searching her face urgently for reassurance. "I know that," she says again.

His hair has fallen in his face. She tucks an errant curl behind his ear. "I know you would never hurt me," she says. Even though, for the first time, she's convinced that he could.

[genericpuff]

Turns out it's been a while since I've talked about Rachel's medical fetish art so it came as a shock to people when I mentioned it in the last post (I've got quite a few asks about it lmao) So I'm gonna enlighten y'all real quick on what I'm referring to, and yes, it's probably exactly what you're thinking of when you hear the word 'medical fetish'.

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF MEDICAL FETISH ART AND DEPICTIONS OF NEEDLES!!!!

So the name "used_bandaid" is one Rachel started using back in the early to mid 2000's. She went by a LOT of different pennames back then, including but probably not limited to:

Pepper_maid

madame_issue

Usedbandaid/used_bandaid

Rach Alex

Rachel Royale

Raquel

Medical Tophat/Medical_Tophat

Frill_house

Gingerbreadcoffin (? this one's kinda weird because the link itself with this username just goes back to her used bandaid MySpace account , so idk if she ever actually used it or if it was even affiliated with her lol)

Now you're probably about to ask, "Puff, how do you know these are all her?" and that's because Rachel still had all of these accounts interlinked through her projects, primarily The Doctor Pepper Show. She seemed to change up usernames often just for the hell of it.

Anyways. I'm not gonna show much of it here because I do think it's better to leave certain things in the past, but there's a LOT of her old work that implies the stuff that's questionable/problematic in LO has always been a part of her identity as an artist (DDLG, hot pink self-insert MC, etc.)

One such example is "madame issue":

This is such a 3-in-1 smoking gun for everything we see in LO. The reference to bandaids (see: used bandaid, which was part of her URL slug for her old flickr where this drawing comes from), the hot pink color palette, and of course, the fact that this character is almost DEFINITELY a self-insert of Rachel, thanks to that shared name.

She's also stated in old commission/print posts that Madame Issue was the one print she wouldn't sell.

She doesn't explicitly say why but I think it's pretty safe to assume it's because Madame Issue is her.

We also have Eva, "the queen of medical fetish". And the tags are... pretty self-explanatory.

That said, that's as much as I'm gonna go into with her old art, because a lot of it does get quite personal with her and I don't really think it accomplishes much more to continue digging up old skeletons, at least not unless they can be seen as parallel to LO (which some of them are and I'll likely be sharing more of those ones in a later post).

That said, there ARE still pages that are accessible without the use of the Wayback Machine that advertise her as a medical fetish artist without the need for extensive digging. If you search up The Doctor Pepper Show on Google, you'll actually find a reddit thread asking what happened to Rachel's old work, and there are comments with loads of resources to access her pre-LO content. You'll also find the listing for The Doctor Pepper Show on The Webcomic List, which literally describes it as a medical fetish comic: "This is a comic set in a world where evil doctors rule, girls wear frilly underpants and people use their manners. *May I please blow your f**king head off?* This comic features Gothic dandys, EGL (Gothic lolitas) and medical fetish fashion. (Neo victorian setting)"

I'll let y'all do your own digging from here, there's a LOT to unpack honestly and while I can't keep you from doing your own research, practice due diligence with what you choose to share. Again, I don't think it's a crime in and of itself for Rachel to want to distance herself from her past as a medical fetish artist, so I think it's only really relevant to show the things that are clearly still influencing LO (like her love for the movie Lolita or the very clear sexualization of youthfulness). While we can try to leave the past where it is, she does still write LO with a lot of the most problematic features of her former identity, and it makes it all the more bizarre that if she is trying to distance herself from it all, then why would she stick with one of the pennames that's the most easily tied back to medical fetishism?

TL ; DR: Rachel started off online with medical fetish and gothic lolita art (at least as far back as we can trace it) and elements of that past are still present in LO today. Use that info responsibly lol

[nepenthean-sleep]

griddlehark fic recs, part 5

hi happy end of 2023 here is part 5 of my griddlehark fic rec series. thank you everyone for your wonderful fics getting us through the alectopause 🖤🖤🖤 all fics here in this part are rated G or T, and tumblr usernames have been added if i could find them (sorry for the notification!). here is part 1 and part 3. M and E fic recs are here because tumblr: part 2, part 4, and part 6 (forthcoming).

carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee) T - NotAFicWriter short post-ntn spec oneshot. it's a kiriona and harrow duking-it-out fic, very much in classic drearburh fashion (heed the tags). i love how gideon's perspective is written in this fic, her anger and grief is so satisfyingly done here. also this fic is tagged "kinda sexual wound fingering" which is hilarious, even if the fic isn't.

murphy's law T - kitahart / @punkwixes unfinished multi-chapter modern university au. harrow is a stage manager putting on a production of hamlet at her university. the dialogue is fucking hilarious. the tension between all the characters is so thick you could cut it with a knife. the prose is wonderful. unfortunately this fic has been unfinished for over two years, but the chapters that are available are an absolute treat.

was gonna die young (now i gotta wait for you honey) T - corpsesoldier / @corpsesoldier short post-ntn oneshot. harrow gives gideon her life back. i will never get tired of any of these kiriona/harrow fics.

loved for the first time (in what seems like forever) G - prettyaveragewhiteshark short oneshot set during gtn. a very sweet and fluffy fic with harrow's anguished confession of feelings and a kiss.

and a partridge in a pear tree T - strangehunger / @strangehunger long modern au oneshot. everyone works at a mall and there is a secret santa amongst the mall employees, and gideon ends up drawing harrow's name. as a former retail professional myself, so much of this fic brought back my fond (nightmarish) memories of working during the holidays. this fic was very funny and the ending was cute and unexpected.

a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light not rated - baladric short post-ntn oneshot. harrow cuts her hair after returning to her body, and gideon comes around to help. i love a good homoerotic haircut but this fic takes the cake with how raw the emotions are. beautifully written.

(i shine only with the light you gave me) T - sashawire / @triglyceride moderately devastating short post-gtn oneshot. god gives harrow her saintly title. i love the prose so much.

We Must Not Be Strangers T - telling_you_stories long oneshot consisting of several scenes from the middle acts of gtn from harrow's perspective. i love alternative pov fics and this fic does such a good job of bridging the gap into what harrow might have been thinking during gtn.

before you leave (remember i was with you) T - Mal_content a new short post-ntn oneshot! kiriona and harrow meet and finally talk about their feelings. this fic is so well written. i absolutely love the dialogue.

touch me again and i'll-- T - zoicite zoicite back at it again with a short oneshot set during gtn. it's the scene that gideon rescues harrow from her bone cocoon and checks her for injuries, but from harrow's pov. this bad boy can fit so much repressed attraction in it.

cut my cord T - cobrakids / @funsizedshark long modern university au oneshot. this fic starts out mostly gen and gets more ship-related halfway through. silas is writing a theology thesis and sets out to interrogate gideon and harrow about the cult they grew up in. harrow, in turn, sets out to protect gideon from silas. there's a very unhinged pool scene, and i love the characterization and prose.

thank you to all the fic authors above for sharing these lovely works with the fandom!

[dyemelikeasunset]

Hey, Naf! How you doing? Just passing to say that I really love Dom and Mor. Their relantionship is so sweet, I love their dynamic! Love how they are so supportive of each other. I really like the way you treat heavier topics and I can't wait to read their backstory! I found myself thinking about them constantly. I like the way you depict Dom's asexuality, I'm not ace myself, so it's been really interisting to me. Another thing that I like about your comic, is how you portraits Morgan, I like how feminine she is. Like, in comics featuring an interracial couple, the darker character is often portrayed as masculine or more brute and the paler one as petite and feminine. Your art style is also so good! I love it! I hope you're enjoying your well-deserved rest! Wish you all the best 💕

(ps: I hope this is comprehensible, english is not my first language)

Your English is wonderful! Thank you so much!!!

I'm so happy you think of them so often. It makes me very motivated to keep writing and drawing!! And it's very nice to know that even people who aren't asexual still like reading about that part of Domi!! I hope everyone enjoys learning more about her as the series goes on 🥰

And thank you for liking how feminine Mor is!! I have a masc fashion style and sometimes i get self conscious about how I depict my feminine characters. But I really dislike the unflattering depiction of interracial couples in a lot of BL and GL and just rarely see dark skinned women portrayed in a delicate and loving way. I really hoped to show that with Morgan and it means a lot to me that people can see it!

I know I've thanked you a lot, but this message made me very happy. So thank you again!! I am resting well, but I'm also very eager to share more stories of them with everyone soon!!

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2024, Day 6 - Favorite Quotes

(This one was the hardest to come up with a concept for, but I think I like this.)

---

"Okay, I give up," groaned Beast Boy, slumping backwards into his seat. "What's that one from?"

"Gone With The Wind!" Starfire exclaimed, reading off the answer card. "You have not seen it? I am told it is a Hollywood classic."

"Isn't that like... four hours or something?" Beast Boy asked. He shook his head. "Yeah, there's no way I'm sitting still in one place for that."

"Says the guy who stays up until two in the morning every time Clash of the Planets reruns come on," snarked Raven from her place on the couch, nose buried in a book, per usual.

Beast Boy stuck out his tongue and then amended, "There's no way I'm sitting still in one place for something that doesn't have explosions, high-octane action, epic plot twists, cool laser swords and a classic sci-fi story, Raven."

Giggling, Starfire handed the question deck to Robin. "I believe it is my turn," she said.

She scooped up the dice, shook them, dropped them, them moved her piece the required amount of spaces.

"Romcoms and Romance," she announced, landing on the red space on the game board.

Robin nodded, flipping randomly through the question cards until he found one of the matching color. He pulled it out and studied it a moment.

Then he cleared his throat.

"'You gotta say yes first.'," he read out.

"Oh this is a good one!" Cyborg commented, tapping his palms on the table with anticipation.

Starfire, meanwhile, was screwing up her face in a way that looked very cute. "Ohhh, I know this, I know this..." she told herself, pinching a thumb to her lip.

Robin smiled at her adorable concentration, silently thrilling when she lit up with a gasp.

"Serendipity!" she exclaimed.

"You got it. I don't think I would've," Robin confessed, grinning as he passed the question deck on over to Cyborg.

"No?" asked Starfire.

"Was never really into that one." He shrugged. "Not my thing." He picked up his dice. "The movie or the genre."

"Oh yes, I remember," Starfire said. "You are very 'picky' when it comes to the romance movies."

"I'll bet it's Batman's influence," laughed Beast Boy. "I'll bet he was all like—" He slipped under the table, popping up next to Robin and grabbing the edge of his cape, drawing it across his face with his arm in dramatic fashion. "—'Robin you must never fall in love, feelings distract from the mission!'" he grunted, putting on a gruff baritone.

Robin grimaced, even as he laughed a bit.

"Pretty much," he said. "But even beyond that I just... don't really like a lot of the tropes and genre conventions. The deceptions, the disposable fiances..." His hands stilled as he grew contemplative, and Beast Boy slowly snuck back to his seat as Robin continued, "I think I prefer the love stories that grow out of hardships overcome and shared experiences. Having adventures together."

He glanced up, his gaze landing on Starfire and becoming significant.

"Facing the end of the world together and being able to come out the other end because your care for each other is so strong."

She held his look, flushing slightly pink. There was something palpable and unspoken between them, and the context of their recent excursion to Tokyo lingered in the air.

Cyborg coughed pointedly.

"Are you gonna finish rolling or would you rather keep making goo goo eyes at Star?" he asked dryly.

Robin and Starfire broke eye contact, Robin giving an awkward cough and flushing brightly.

He dropped his dice and moved his token.

"Action/Adventure," he said.

"Oh thank Azar," Raven muttered.

Cyborg pulled out a card from the stack.

"'I would rather share one lifetime with you—'"

"Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring," chimed multiple voices around the table.

Cyborg flicked the card out of his hand in exasperation. "Shoulda figured."