#I personally don’t ship them just because I feel like they have such a great (albeit broken) brotherhood

[rhaenella]

LN4 | Challenge Accepted

pairing: lando norris x non-driver!reader

genre: one shot ✿

summary: it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…

word count: 5.6k

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The sound of feet tapping restlessly against the floor, alternated by the squeaking of a swivel chair spinning round, echoed through the large hall at McLaren HQ. With a sigh, you refreshed your social media—again—but there were no new posts of any kind to keep you occupied. You’d already gone through all of them.

Your boyfriend and F1 driver, Lando Norris, was somewhere in the massive building, filming interviews, challenges and whatnot for the McLaren social media platforms. He had asked if you'd come with him today, mostly because you already saw so little of each other due to his busy schedule. Not that you saw much of each other right now, but at least there wasn’t an ocean between you like there usually was. 

Besides, he’d promised he would wrap up as quickly as he could, and take you out for dinner. So. The wait was worth it. Even though you were bored out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

After walking up and down the hall’s boulevard four times over, admiring all of the beautiful, historical cars on display, you had checked out the trophy wall, which was just as impressive. But since you weren’t allowed access anywhere else inside the building, at least not without a chaperone, there wasn’t much else for you to do or see. That’s how you found yourself in your current situation, spinning around in a chair like an impatient five-year-old, the line of racing cars and the lake outside whooshing by. 

“Y/N?”

The chair came to an abrupt stop. “Yea–yes?” you squinted at the blurry figure in front of you. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to spin around so many times that your vestibular system now made it feel like you were on a ship battling a terrible storm. Luckily, once your vision cleared, you recognised the person instantly. It was Lando’s performance engineer, Andrew Jarvis. You’d seen him around race tracks a few times—he was always very friendly and kind to you.

“Jarv! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. What about yourself?”

“Oh, good, good… Enjoying the scenery,” you sneered, waving a hand.

“Right,” he drawled, looking you up and down with an amused smile. “Bored?”

“Yes,” you groaned, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “So. Fucking. Bored.”

Jarv chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid Lando is still tied up. I think he and Oscar are filming some kind of… song challenge? I don’t know,” he shrugged with another laugh. “It’s not exactly my area of expertise.”

Your lips quirked up. “Imagine if it was. You could start hiding strategy calls in songs and sing them over the board radio.”

He wavered. “That would be…”

“Genius?”

“Eh, well,” he faltered, his mouth twitching all the same. 

“Right. Maybe not,” you laughed. 

Although, privately you thought it would be a hilarious idea. With a tinge of brilliance, perhaps. But the pinnacle of motorsport would probably be a little too serious to see it your way. 

“I’m obviously not an engineer, or a strategist, or a driver. So, I guess I’ll just stay here,” you sighed, patting the armrests of your new friend, the swivel chair. “And try to excel in exercising patience instead.”

Jarv nodded, his brows furrowing. “Maybe you don’t have to…” 

You eyed him with a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

He checked his watch and glanced around before looking back to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

Jarv had already turned on his heel before you could object, expecting you to blindly follow him to wherever it was he intended to take you. Which you did… without too much thought. Let’s just say boredom got the best of you. Choosing between sitting another god knows how many hours in that chair, or doing something—anything—the choice wasn’t hard. So, you leaped from your seat, sprinting to catch up with him. 

“Wait!” 

He slowed down, and you fell into step beside him. “What’s your idea? Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

You neared the large double doors at the rear of the boulevard. Jarv pressed his right thumb on a small, glass box on the wall next to them, waiting for his fingerprint to be authorised. The system scanned his print, and the light tinged green. “Welcome, Mr. Jarvis,” a female voice said as the doors automatically opened in front of you.

“Nice.”

Jarv grinned, gesturing for you to precede him into the restricted wing of McLaren HQ. The part that the general public never got to see. You gazed around in amazement. You knew it was a large building, but it was more like a maze back here, and you quickly lost all sense of direction.

“I should probably text Lando, he’s gonna wonder where I’ve disappeared to.”

“Don’t worry, Lando is heading where we’re going, too.”

You relaxed a little at that, however your curiosity didn’t subside as you trailed after Jarv throughout the many long corridors. Where the hell were you going?

The behind the scenes looked arguably even more impressive than all the trophies and race-winning cars that were being flaunted in the entrance hall. You passed countless offices, labs, and workshops where employees were working on top-secret updates for the MCL38, or perhaps even next year’s car. And although Jarv kept up a good pace, you were still able to sneak a few glimpses here and there, thanks to all the glass walls. Most of the technology looked so futuristic, you felt like you had accidentally stepped onto the set of a sci-fi film.

Jarv made a sharp right turn down another hallway. This one only had one door at the end, and it wasn’t made out of glass like the rest of them, which prevented you from being able to see what was behind it. 

You read the sign next to the door, which only added to the mystery. 

Strictly No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only.

“This is it,” Jarv said, retrieving a key to unlock the door, opening it wide. 

Well, there was your authorisation.

You stepped into the mysterious, dimly lit room, your eyes gradually widening with awe. 

The room was roughly twelve by twelve metres, and in the centre stood two professionally altered Formula 1 cars, both with their own 180-degree widescreens set up in a semicircle around them. The back wall was lined with large computer screens, a row of chairs stationed in front of them, which gave you the feeling you were looking at a small-scale pitwall. 

Holy… beep.

Speaking of futuristic tech, this was way up there.

“Welcome to the McLaren simulation room.”

You whirled around to face Jarv, beaming. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen a sim like this before.”

It was true. Sure, Lando had his own simulator at home in Monaco. But it was nothing compared to this piece of craftsmanship.

Jarv hummed, smiling as he walked to the faux-pitwall. “So. You ready to try it out?”

You blinked. “Ready to–wait a minute… what?”

You stared at Jarv as he turned on the computers, pressing buttons here and there that made the right car hum to life. Next, the widescreen around the car powered up as well, causing a wave of light to brighten the otherwise dark room.

“Jarv?”

He opened a cabinet, retrieving a steering wheel before he walked to the simulator. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“That’s not it,” you trailed off. 

“Good,” he said, turning around, looking at you expectantly. “So get in, then.”

“But… what about Lando? You said he was on his way over here. Don’t they need the room?”

“They will be here to film something in,” Jarv checked his watch again. “In a little over an hour. Until then, the room is empty, and we can use it. I presume you’ve driven a simulator before?”

“Yeah, I have… but don’t I need some kind of special clearance to use one of these?” One of these super expensive, highly accurate simulators that are solely used to train drivers and prepare the real cars and their setups for race weekends. Whatever could go wrong?

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. I’m Lando’s performance engineer. I’m one of the few that gets to decide who uses the sim.”

You shifted your weight, still unsure. “I’m not gonna be any good at it.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have fun, or would you rather return to the waiting area?”

“No.”

Jarv’s smile widened, and he gestured to the sim, inviting you to take a seat.

You hesitantly walked up to the car, twisting your rings, a nervous habit of yours. You’d tried the simulator at Lando’s before, and like you’d already pointed out to Jarv, you weren’t any good at it. Lando had tried to talk you through it, telling you where to break and lift, but it was painfully clear you weren’t cut out to be a driver. 

And now you had to drive in McLaren’s state of the art simulator, under the watchful eye of Lando’s performance engineer. The pressure was real. You didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.

After you’d managed to, somewhat awkwardly, settle yourself in the sim’s seat, Jarv locked the steering wheel into place. It was familiar to you as it looked exactly like the one on Lando’s car, just like everything else on this sim. Except that it didn’t have a front or back wing, or any tyres.

“Alright, before you start driving, it’s important to know the ins and outs of the track you’re racing at. Which in this case will be Shanghai, the location of next weekend’s race,” Jarv said, pressing a few buttons. 

The layout of the track popped up on the screen in front of you, with a sea of information and data appearing on the sides. 

“Don’t worry about the data. We’ll stick to the basics that are of importance to you as a driver. Ready?”

You nodded.

“Good. So, the Shanghai International Circuit has sixteen corners, two DRS-zones on the main straights; one in sector three, and the other on start-finish…”

***

“I don’t know, I feel like maybe I should pursue a musical career,” Lando joked as he and Oscar followed Marion, the head of McLaren’s PR team, down the building’s corridors. 

They had just finished filming another challenge for YouTube. Or Instagram. Or both. Lando didn’t really care about the specifics. It was just another part of his job. Something he’d rather be done with soon, so he could go back to his girl.

Oscar snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be a Grammy-nominated artist in no time.”

Lando grinned, agreeing with a nod. 

“Alright, lads. One more, and then you’re free to go,” Marion called over her shoulder. 

It was absolute music to Lando’s ears.

“What is it that we have to do?” Oscar asked.

“You’ll be racing each other on the sim, just for a couple of laps, around the Shanghai circuit.”

“I thought we were gonna train on the sim in the morning,” Lando said.

Marion nodded. “You will. This is only a short challenge for a video ahead of the Chinese Grand Prix. Because we haven’t raced there in so long, we thought it’d be fun to film your initial reaction to the track driving the MCL38.”

He and Oscar shared a look. They were always down for a race. There was no question about it.

The click-clacking of Marion’s heels bounced around the hallway as the group made their way to the simulation room. When they arrived, Will, Lando’s race engineer, and a camera and sound crew were waiting for them by the door.

“Why are you all out here? You should be setting up the cameras,” Marion scolded, looking at the men expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

But the men ignored her, instead they all looked to Lando, grinning. He frowned, not at all understanding the meaning behind the knowing looks they were sending him. What was up with them?

“Someone beat us to the sim, I’m afraid,” Will explained, his eyes still on Lando.

Marion turned to Lando as well, equally confused. “What does that mean?”

Lando met her eye and shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

As if on cue, a high pitched scream came from the simulation room, followed by a distinct, “That’s more like it!”

Will and the crew chuckled, but Marion wasn’t having it. “What on earth is going on,” she bristled, pushing past them to enter the room.

Lando followed her, but he couldn’t have been less prepared for the scene they stumbled upon next. 

Occupying one of the simulators was his girlfriend, and right next to you stood Jarv, who was closely monitoring your driving, giving you short and precise instructions. You were going down the straight at full throttle, following Jarv’s pointers as you breaked and hit the curb perfectly for a smooth exit.

What the hell? 

He’d thought you were still waiting for him in the entrance hall on the other side of the building. Never in a million years had he expected to find you here, racing on McLaren’s simulator, looking like you actually knew what you were doing no less. 

So that’s why all the guys had been smirking at him…

“What do we have here?”

You jumped at Lando’s voice, immediately causing the car to spin and crash during your momentary lapse of concentration. 

“Fuck! I was on a flying lap…”

“And a bloody good one at that,” Jarv added, proud.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “You were what?” His eyes flicked from you to Jarv, to you, and then back to Jarv. “Mate?”

Before Jarv could utter a word, you turned to face your boyfriend with a wide smile. “Baby, guess what?! I’m not a complete loser at this!”

“I–I’m so proud of you… but,” Lando shook his head, still not understanding any of this. “Why are you two in here?”

You grabbed onto the halo and pulled yourself out of the car to face him. “Jarv came to see how I was doing, and since I had nothing better to do, he suggested I’d give this a try,” you explained, gesturing to the sim.

“Oh, I see,” Lando smiled. 

Yet he struggled to swallow the bitter taste at seeing you spending time and having fun with Jarv. All the while he had been stuck ‘working’. Not that he blamed you for it. He was the one who left you all by yourself for so long. But still… 

“Uhm, but now that you’re all here,” you said, a bit sheepish, your eyes scanning the gathering crowd. “I’ll uhm, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Very well,” Marion called, but she was quickly interrupted.

“No, no, no, no. Wait a second. I need to know something first,” Will spoke, stepping forward. “Jarv, we need your professional assessment, man. How did she do?”

Marion sighed, tapping her phone to check the time, which only made her look more impatient. Lando ignored her, his eyes sliding from you to his performance engineer, curious as well. 

“Y/N did great. She struggled a little at first, but the more laps she did, the better she got,” Jarv beamed. He turned to face Lando. “You know, I reckon she’d even have a good chance at beating you.”

Lando studied him. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m being serious, mate. I’d wager good money on it.”

Marion’s annoyance evaporated within an instant, her eyes lighting up. “Oh gosh, that is a perfect idea, Jarvis.”

“What is? Gambling?” 

“No,” she huffed. “I mean, instead of Lando against Oscar, we can have these two lovebirds race each other on the sim instead!”

“What?” you and Lando cried in unison.

Everyone looked at you, and your cheeks tinged a soft pink. You weren’t used to all the attention, usually preferring to keep a lower profile. Well, as much as that was possible dating a Formula 1 driver.

“Guys, I’m flattered. Truly, I am. But I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I know you’re all here to do a job, and that job doesn’t include me…”

“That’s right,” Lando agreed. He shot you a brief smile before addressing Marion. “Besides, she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, and I don’t want her to embarrass herself in front of the eyes of millions.”

Something stirred inside you. “What does that mean? You don’t think I can beat you?”

“Well, sweetheart…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing. 

Under other circumstances, you would have agreed with him. But this last hour and a half with Jarv had boosted your confidence. It had gone really well, exceeding both of your expectations on your sim racing capabilities by miles. And maybe, some part of you, just wanted to show him that.

Like Lando, you never shied away from competition. Not if you had a chance at winning. You weren’t a hundred percent sure if you did right now. But you couldn’t deny you weren’t more than a little curious to find out. And seeing as Lando had just called you out in front of everyone, the only logical thing to do was rise to the challenge.

“You know what? I’m in.”

With that, you climbed back into the snug seat, forcing the thought of having everyone’s eyes on you to the back of your mind. 

Lando’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Wonderful,” Marion exclaimed. “Let’s roll, people.”

Lando watched as everybody around him immediately jumped into action, including the camera and sound guys who got ready to put it all on film. Jarv grinned and grabbed his tablet, giving a slight nod to Will, who nodded in return and went to start up the second simulator and retrieve a steering wheel for Lando.

“I’ll be assisting Y/N, and just like with a normal race, Will can be Lando’s engineer,” Jarv said.

“Yep,” Will said, holding up the steering wheel as he walked to the other sim. “We’re good to go.”

“We are too!” one of the crewmen announced.

Marion smiled, but it faded when she noticed Lando still standing by the door, not having moved an inch. “What are you waiting for? Get in the car,” she said.

She started pushing Lando in the direction of the other sim, but he stood his ground. 

“Hold on. We can’t do this.”

“What? Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Lando sighed. “You know why.” 

Did they? Did he? 

Lando loved to race, and he certainly loved you. So what was stopping him from combining the two? 

He wasn’t scared of losing—he never has been, and never would. Not that there was any real chance that you, an inexperienced ‘driver’, could beat him today. There was simply no way. 

He’d seen you try the sim at his house, and despite his best efforts, you were, for lack of a better term, absolute rubbish. But then again, Jarv had seemed so sure of himself. That man didn’t lie or exaggerate. He would give it to you straight if you underperformed or weren’t any good. Lando had always admired and respected that. 

So, had Jarv been able to unearth some sort of racing talent that was buried deep inside of you? Something that Lando himself hadn’t managed to uncover…

Was that why he hesitated going up against you? His sense of pride?

Lando groaned internally. If anything, that should make him that much more adamant to race you.

He looked over to see you were already staring at him, ambition burning bright in your eyes. Ambition to beat him. At the thing he did best… It was alluring, and Lando felt his own competitiveness flare. 

“No, we don’t. Honestly, what’s stopping you?”

“It’s only five laps. It’ll be a piece of cake for you, Norris.”

“Unless that’s the problem,” Jarv joked. “Maybe he needs to warm up and familiarise himself with the track first…”

“I think all of you are forgetting that I’m the only one here who actually raced in Shanghai,” Lando shot back, unconsciously taking a step towards the sim.

“And how did that work out for you, mate?” Oscar chimed in.

Lando glared at him and Oscar struggled to contain his laughter. 

“Even better,” you exclaimed, reclaiming your boyfriend’s attention. “You have on track experience and I’ve had a little time to prepare with Jarv. That’s fair enough, right?”

“Y/N… are you sure you want to…” 

He was so close to giving in. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Besides, you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that would surely make his competitive side overshadow any lingering doubts, and get him to race you in that other sim.

“When have you ever walked away from a race? Hm? Unless you’re scared you’ll lose…”

That struck the intended chord. 

Oh, she didn’t, Lando thought. 

You gave him your most innocent looking smile, but he knew damn well what you were doing. He shook himself. Fine. If you wanted to race him so badly, he would give it to you. And no way in hell would he still consider going easy on you.

Lando promptly made his way to the other car and slid into the seat with practised ease. He signalled Will, who handed him the steering wheel. He clicked it into place before glancing to his right, smiling dangerously. “Alright, you’re on, darling. Challenge accepted.”

At that, Jarv entered a bunch of commands on his tablet, which was connected to the simulator’s system, to set the race parameters. Two cars appeared on the screens, each from their own driver’s point of view, already in position to start racing at Shanghai’s International Circuit.

“As you can see, Lando will start on the right and Y/N will start on the left,” Jarv informed.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Lando sputtered. “Why are you starting from pole and not me?”

“Because I clocked the fastest lap time.”

“You clocked the only lap time.”

You shrugged, smiling. “Take it up with race control, baby.”

“Don’t worry,” Will reassured, looking at his own tablet as he scrolled through the accumulated data from your runs. “Break late, and you can easily overtake her in the first corner.”

Lando nodded, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as the digital green flag was waved.

Jarv leaned in to whisper in your ear: “No, he won’t. Just remember what I taught you.”

“Aye, aye,” you said, focusing on the lights.

The cameras were all set and rolling, and Marion looked around, relishing the unexpected turn of events. This would be an enormous hit online, for sure. Her eyes landed on Oscar who stood to the back, watching the couple with an amused glint in his eye. If only she could involve him as well somehow… that would make it even better.

“Oscar, why don’t you take on the role of commentator?” Marion suggested, her tone indicating that he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Oscar startled. “Oh. Uhm. Yeah, sure.”

He moved to stand in between the two simulators, clearing his throat. “Right. Uhm. Welcome to the Shanghai International Circuit for the 2024 Chinese Grand Prix… It’s Sunday, April 21st—well, not really but let’s go with it—uhm, and we’ll soon start racing–”

“You’re a lousy commentator, Piastri,” Lando interrupted.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “How about you worry about yourself, Norris.”

Lando snickered, but he quickly sobered when the first light gleamed red. Then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and…

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

You got away quick, but Lando was faster, years of experience siding with him.

“Lando dives into the first corner, ahead of Y/N. Can she cross back? No, no she cannot. Ah, bummer…” Oscar narrated. “She’s right behind him, though, going into turn 3. Lando nearly missing the apex there, but he recovers well. OH! Oh, never mind. Lando goes wide in turn 6! Yeah, he’s familiar with that one.”

“Shut up,” Lando snapped.

“I didn’t think so, mate,” Oscar grinned, settling into his new character nicely. 

“Y/N is back on his heels as they go down sector two. DRS is not yet enabled, but she is only six tenths behind! Will Y/N be able to overtake Norris without DRS on the straight? She’s getting closer… they’re racing each other into turn 14, and… OH Y/N, massive lock-up! She manages to keep the car on track. Excellent save! But that’s gonna cost her some valuable time.”

You crossed start-finish, eyeing the time as you entered lap two.

Oscar’s voice boomed loud. “DRS enabled! But Y/N is too far–”

“Just 1.2 seconds behind, you can still do this,” Jarv encouraged. “Line-up on the left and take the first corner on the inside. Yeah, like that. Good.”

On the other side of the room, Will was giving Lando similar instructions. It had, after all, been a while since Lando had last raced this track. During his rookie year, no less. Therefore it was currently taking him quite a bit of effort to find the correct race line, especially with the many difficult corners and hairpins around the track. 

“Steady on,” Will said. “Y/N is out of DRS. Let’s keep it that way.”

The couple sped down the track on their simulators, and even though most of your focus was spent on driving and listening to Jarv’s notes, you also marvelled at the accuracy and realism of the sim. From the sensations of the literal car you were seated in, down to the gravel Lando’s little off-track adventure had caused to spread in and around turn 6. Whatever the outcome of the race, this experience would certainly beat waiting around and lounging in that swivel chair.

“Great exit from Norris who is absolutely flying down the straight in sector three, followed by Y/N at 1.4 seconds. Still doing a phenomenal job so far!” Oscar continued, his eyes glued to the screen. “Approaching turn 14, can Y/N manage the hairpin this time? What?! Oh, no! It’s Lando that locks up this time… Oiiioii, mighty turn 14 proves to be too much for both of our star drivers.”

Jarv kept a close eye on the interval time, and thanks to Lando’s mistake, the gap had already shrunk to 1.1 seconds. “Okay, now use the extra power from the ERS to get closer,” he instructed.

You did as you were told, pressing the correct button on the steering wheel, which gave you an extra boost to get even closer to Lando.

“Y/N gaining on Norris! And she’s now back within DRS at 0.9 seconds. Whoa, what a truly remarkable performance by someone who has never driven a race car or a sim like this before! I’d vote for her as driver of the day…”

“No one asked your opinion,” Lando cut off, sounding a little strained.

“Whatever,” Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Lando Grumpy-Ass Norris struggles to maintain the gap between him and his girlfriend, hitting the curb a little enthusiastically right there. Oh, Y/N faces the same issues! It’s all about keeping the focus now, ladies and gents. Will Y/N be able to close the gap? Will she be able to attack Norris?”

Marion stood behind the cameras, watching gleefully how you and Lando raced each other around the virtual Shanghai circuit. Oh, you were even better than she could have ever anticipated. Better than anyone in the room could have ever anticipated, really. The whole crew was watching the race with baited breath. 

You were almost equally matched. With you, a real diamond in the rough, having received some training beforehand, and Lando, an experienced driver, essentially going in blind—it was a golden match.

Were you going to be able to do the unthinkable?

“We’re going into the penultimate lap, and even with Lando strategically using his batteries, Y/N has managed to close the gap to 0.7 with DRS. And there she is also clocking the fastest lap. Wow!”

“You can win a little bit of extra time in sector two,” Will analysed. “Turns 9 and 12 are crucial. You need a good exit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Does he?” Oscar cut in. “We’ve got track limits for Norris in turn 9! He’s getting desperate now, with Y/N coming for him at 0.6 seconds. Is she going to—yes! She’s attempting to overtake Norris ahead of turn 11 but… fails… Oh, that was a bold move by Y/N! She lost a bit of time with that one, but she’s still within DRS range and knows she will be able to get close again for another attack.”

Your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were gripping the steering wheel. You couldn’t make a mistake, not now. You were so close… On the other sim, Lando was in a similar state. Although he was clenching his jaw in concentration instead. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep you behind him.

“Final lap,” Oscar announced. “And Norris crosses the white lines again! Turn 3 this time. Yep, there it is. Second track limits for Norris. He is feeling the heat, and not the good kind.”

Jarv’s mouth twitched. “It’s been five years since Lando raced here, let’s use it to our advantage,” he spoke to you in a hushed tone.

You nodded, your eyes never wavering from the screen in front of you.

Jarv checked the data, both yours and Lando’s, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what you’ll do: instead of following the race line at–”

Will was closely observing you and Jarv from the other side of the room, but he couldn’t make out what Jarv was saying over the sounds of the simulators’ engines and Oscar still commentating to his heart’s content. He looked down at his driver, who was fully focused on the task before him.

“And then use the charged batteries after exiting turn 13. I know Lando’s defending tactics, this should work. He won’t see it coming,” Jarv finished. 

You simply nodded again, trusting your engineer’s judgement. You would give it your all to try and execute his strategy as best you could.

“As we’re nearing the chequered flag, all bets are off. Lando is fighting for his position with everything he has, but Y/N is not ready to call it quits just yet!” 

Your heart rate was off the charts, but you managed to stay calm, hitting the apexes, the metres between you and Lando’s car in front dwindling with each passing second.

“0.5 seconds, 0.4 seconds…”

“Flat out, Y/N. Let’s go,” Jarv said, his own heart rate ticking up.

“She’s chasing him, with DRS… There she comes. There she comes… round the inside! Y/N overtakes Norris!” Oscar roared. “Diving into the infamous turn 14… and… and she makes it! Hell yeah! What a mega move from Y/N! Now into the final corner. Can she stay ahead of Norris? Can she…? Yes!! Yes, she can!”

You passed the chequered flag, your mouth falling open in shock.

“Y/N wins the Chinese Grand Prix!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

Jarv's laugh pierced the room. “Get in! I told you!”

He managed to stop himself just in time before he started jumping up and down like an overly excited little boy. You shared his enthusiasm though, unable to control the slight tremor in your hands at seeing your name next to the word WINNER displayed boldly on the screen in front of you. 

Holy fuck, you did it. You actually did it.

Lando sank low in his seat. “How the hell…”

Will patted him on the shoulder, consoling. “You did your best mate.”

“Clearly it wasn’t enough,” he grumbled.

Will glanced at their celebrating opponents, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Get your mind out of the gutter, mate, and look on the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“Your girlfriend just showed you the perfect overtake manoeuvre for Sunday.”

“Ha-ha, very funny…”

Although, you really did. 

Lando turned to see Jarv help you out of the simulator, still grinning from ear to ear. You were reeling, the adrenaline of the fight and win coursing through your veins. Suddenly you understood what it must feel like to come out of a real F1 car, and to stand on the podium, basking in that feeling of winning a race.

As soon as you were out, Jarv high-fived you. “Solid race. That’s some potential, that is.”

Oscar came up next. “Awesome job, Y/N. Seriously. Great overtake at the end there. Perhaps you’ll be my future teammate,” he winked.

You giggled. “Thanks, guys!”

Even Will smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up as you walked over to Lando who was still seated in the other sim, sulking.

“Oh, come on,” you pouted, reaching out your hand, a peace offering. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Sure thing, it was,” he muttered, but he accepted your hand anyway before jumping out of the car. 

When he stood in front of you, he took a moment to look you up and down, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. His ego may have taken quite the blow today, but there was no denying he was also extremely proud of you. Jarv had been right after all, and Lando was happy he hadn’t taken the engineer up on his bet.

He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Need to keep things fresh and exciting, don’t I? Otherwise you’ll tire of me in no time.”

“Never,” Lando scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving your lips a soft peck. “However, as much as I’m proud of you… this footage will never see the light of day.” 

You laughed, your eyes locking with Marion.

She sent you a wink. “We’ll see about that.”

***

a/n: thank you for reading <3 feedback is adored. 

by the way, should i make a taglist for future f1 fics? is that something you’d be interested in? or perhaps for specific drivers? let me know!

also posted on ao3

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x non-driver reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfic #chinese gp 2024 #lando norris #oscar piastri #mclaren #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris blurb #challenge accepted

[kgoodale]

TLDR - stop all the hate on innocent love interest. 

I’m not understanding the hate I am seeing for Tommy (9-1-1) and Bucks story arc this season. I understand buddie shippers wanting them to get together, but they both need to figure out their own personal feelings for themselves and each other in their own time and Tommy is such a good first relationship because he’s understanding of what Buck is going through. And he also understands the work schedule the they have so will understands if something comes up and one of them have to cancel a date and is also friends with Eddie so there will be less issues with Bucks and Eddie codependency that a lot for Buck’s exs did not understand. First same sex relationships are hard enough without both parties trying to figure out what is going on inside of their heads. I understand shipping to characters and wanting them together but hating on a new love interest that is a guy just because it’s not the guy you want in the relationship is no better then hating on a female love interest or making comments about how buddie shippers are insane for thinking it will ever happen because the character are “straight”. There are toxic fans in every fandom but everyone should try to understand where others are coming from and get along. If Tommy and Buck(TEven) stay together and are end game till the end of the show great let them be happy, if they don’t and Buck and Eddie get together great let them be happy, if in a very long shot ( mostly because this would be hot) all 3 get together then great let them be happy, or if none of this happens let them all be happy separately and together. But please just stop hating on characters that do not deserve it. This is not me saying if the actor or actress is a terrible person you have to like the character. Or if they are good you have to like them but but don’t hate just because of the people they are with.

#buddie #tevan #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #lgbtq #bisexual #bi buck #buddie + Tommy

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Slightly long, ramble vent-ish post but also some negative observations of the wider self ship community that has been bothering me a little bit.

sometimes I don’t want to be in the self ship community anymore (not that I considered myself part of it from the beginning) because said the community creates these small pocket communities of the same people interacting with each other and that’s fair and totally fine!

It’s just that up to a certain point, these pocket communities start to create an isolating and alien environment for newcomers and this is not helped by the community’s genuinely bad communication skills. Like I genuinely wonder how many blogs have deactivated due to lack of interactivity (a whole can of worms no one likes talking about apparently. HI REBLOG:LIKE RATIO) and the overwhelmingly intimidating environment for younger folks (teens - early 20s) to navigate, especially people who may not be as critical or conscious of the media they consume (and don’t understand how they could be harming people through consuming specific pieces of fiction). I remember one person straight up left due to the lack of communication and it really, really sucks because just an open conversation can really ease peoples fears and worries. People just should not have to feel like walking on eggshells all the damn time in the community and if they feel that way then there is something SEVERELY WRONG with this community but no one cares to address it

Like I’ve already left a few self discord servers, and blocked some users, and now I just don’t see any point really being in the community anymore, because there’s been multiple occasions when I’ve interacted with a user and then it turns out that said user probably has some personal issues they need to sort out, but constantly deflect blame or disregard anyone’s advice to change their actions/attitudes for the better or that they really need to get actual professional help. Like obviously we should call out bad behaviour but also know that you should encourage these people to change saidd behaviours for the better.

Idk maybe I’m cursed on tumblr to interact with people who turn out to be not that great or I’m just too naive because I believe that people are inherently good. Maybe I’m a fool for wanting to see the good in people and wanting to support them, all at the cost of me ignoring all the red flags that are obviously in front of me. Which to be fair is probably reasonable; fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me for not knowing better I should have heeded the red flags when I saw them. /serious

#shallow rambles #shallow vents #/ not about anymone #I guess also because tumblr is a bit of a polarising platform which probably doesn’t help #a few early former mutuals turn out to be not great people :/ #it probably doesn’t help that I am a conflict avoider and this sort of shit triggers my fight or flight response #idk man. maybe I’ll just stay in my bubble tbh #that and also I’ve noticed there’s some cult of Personality type shit happening too in the self ship community but I don’t think people #are ready to have that conversation yet 🧍‍♀️ #don’t expect me to do promos anymore tbh I don’t really see the point in them anymore #others thoughts are appreciated because I hope I’m not the only person that feels isolated by the community #like I have a life outside of the internet. i have more important things to do than worry about the ‘community’ #like obviously. gatekeep this shit from pro/shippers and alt right/hateful/bigoted people. #but like don’t make good folks in your community have to walk on eggshells all the time #this is not a sob story or anything these are just my thoughts and stuff #<- ​/gen serious #I’m just so tired of this community #nothing is fun anymore tbh and really it’s just more so a chore now… #when i come back I might clean out my posts and followers to keep a minimal audience #it might get better idk. #thoughts on queue #scheduled post: waiting in line

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

#hanamusa #hanamusashipping

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

[inu-mxki]

happy valentines ♡

roronoa zoro x fem!reader / established relationship / fluff

“for you.”

zoro thrusts the small bunch of picked flowers rather unceremoniously towards you. from the way his jaw is clenched and how his fist is almost sapping the life out of the little arrangement of flowers, you can tell the swordsman isn’t accustomed to offering a heartfelt gift. but even though his approach isn’t exactly romantic, the meaning is there all the same.

“did you pick those?” you ask softly, placing a gentle hand over his bruising fist to ease the tension in his hand, allowing you to retrieve the flowers from his grasp, “they’re beautiful, ‘ro. thank you.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches the back of his neck, a rare nervous disposition about the large man before you, “the cook said somethin’ bout valentines, so…”

“sanji wouldn’t miss valentines for the world, sappy devil,” you giggle, smelling the freshness of the flowers zoro had clearly spent time collecting for you, “they smell delightful. such pretty colours, too.”

“sorry it’s not… from a store or somethin’,” he said, leaning against the ship’s railing, eyes fixed to the ground and hands in his pockets, “i, uh, don’t have loads of berries, so i just…”

you watch as he tries to explain why he hasn’t just placed a diamond encrusted necklace into your hands. as if the gift he had gone out to personally pick for you wasn’t enough. zoro was aware that sanji had gifted each of the girls a small heart shaped chocolate cake he’d baked first thing that morning, leaving them outside of your rooms with a scented card that read: “mon amie, happy valentines.”

zoro can’t bake. or cook. or craft like usopp can. he’s just a swordsman, he doesn’t have any delicate skills like that. but he remembered, a while back whilst exploring an island the sunny had docked at, you were entranced by the different types of flowers you’d never seen before; smelling each of them and then asking him to in turn. it wasn’t something zoro would normally do, but he smelt them anyway because it pleased you, and spread a sweet smile across your face.

all he ever wanted to do was make you do that. smile.

he feels your warm palm against his face, and looks up to meet your soft, welcoming eyes. you’ve always looked at him like that - like you accept him. there’s no one around, the sun setting in the distance and a gentle, calm lap of the ocean at the base of the sunny. zoro made sure to catch you alone, as to not entice the others to ruin the moment.

with a swipe of your thumb across his cheek bone, you reach up and plant a kiss to his cheek. his eyes close with content, soaking up the feeling of your tenderness. a tenderness he never knew he needed.

“zoro,” you say his name with a soft voice, and all at once the worries burdening his shoulders are lifted, and his body, his mind, feel at ease, “i don’t need you to buy me anything. i would take flowers you’ve picked yourself over anything berries can buy,” his hands leave his pockets and you feel them take your waist, squeezing lightly, “besides, i have everything i already need, right here.”

your run your hand down his bare chest, the shirt sitting on his back getting caught in the warm wind that sweeps across the deck. his eyes never leave you, watching every move you make as your lips press against his collarbone, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “i love you.” you mutter against his olive skin, and the grip on your waist tightens.

his large hand snakes around the back of your neck, gathering your attention, and he leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss. zoro kisses with such passion, such meaning. he’s not great with words, everyone knows that, and expressing his feelings for you has always been a challenge. so, he does what he knows best; kisses you like he’s never going to get the chance to again.

“i love you,” he mumbles into the kiss, words you don’t get to hear very often, but are a pleasure when you do. it’s not that he doesn’t want to say it - he just finds it hard sometimes. but you know that. you know him, and his actions have always spoken in tenfolds. when he pulls away, he lingers close, so you take the opportunity to press one more quick peck to his mouth. it’s not very often you’re alone, after all.

“c’mon,” you say quietly, taking his hand in yours and lacing your fingers together, “let’s find a nice place to keep them, yeah?”

i do not own one piece or any characters associated with it

#roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x female reader #op zoro #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro #zoro #one piece zoro #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece

[timmie-p]

april fools post translation 👍 * indicates i have notes on the translation if you want to read below

Hyun Woo —> He stopped acting in his childhood but is currently working on ALNST as a lighting crew member. Worries about his dull, slow sister

Hyuna —> The last and youngest of the ALNST cast to debut! Her real personality is gentle and innocent

Mizi —> Fan favourite among the actors. Shy personality and very nervous about her first leading role

Sua —> The feisty actress is popular among her co-stars, thanks to her nonchalant friendliness

Sua: Great job on the shoot today. I’m sure Director Kim was only speaking so harshly because he was worried about your safety, so don’t take it personally.

Mizi: Yeah.. ((It’s sunbae!!! What should I do! What should I do!!))

Sfx: Thump thump thump [heartbeat sound]

Ivan and Luka are actors from a different agency. They’re also in an idol group together (for the record, Luka hates it)

Ivan —> Ivan loves kids and voluntarily takes care of them

Luka —> Luka is Ivan’s best friend, so he’s forced to babysit with him

Baby Till —> Baby Till for flashback scenes

Baby Mizi —> Baby Mizi for flashback scenes when the kids are older

Till —> Till, the youngest in the series, is actually the oldest in the cast and debuted with CF before he could even speak in a diaper commercial. Till has a strong “my pace”* persona. He just wants to quickly wrap up the shoot and go home. His dark circles are from overwork, not make-up.

Others —> Three people who want to approach their mysterious** senior but can’t

Ivan: ((Lamenting over delays..?))

Mizi: Want me to talk to him?

Luka: Yeah

Till: ((I want to go home))

Sfx: Spacing out~

*according to namu wiki, either someone who’s strongly independent and doesn’t care what others think or someone who’s always chill

**according to namu wiki, the adjective translates to a famous person who deliberately keeps their private life secret. i just went with mysterious bc it directly translates to “mystic”

i didn’t choose to translate sunbae in Mizi’s thoughts because it sounds weird and most of you probably know what it means anyway

lol it looks like everyone’s personalities were flipped. does that mean ivan actually hates kids? and till as the cool mysterious senior everyone is scared to talk to vs hyuna as no thoughts head empty is kinda funny. i have a feeling ivan and luka are shipped together a lot by fans in this au.. the woes of being besties. also mizisua is always canon 🙏 theyre so yuri

#alien stage #alnst hyuna #alnst mizi #alsnt sua #alnst ivan #alnst luka #alnst till #official art #translations

[dumbseee]

stalker. pt.4.

previous.

charles leclerc x reader. / carlos sainz jr x reader.

fc: lalisa manoban.

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, landonorris and 3 719 000 others.

y/n: when you tell him paris is your favorite city so he takes you to paris the next day 🤭

_

fan1: charles could never

liked by y/n.

fan2: carlos is the real deal

fan3: my girl is thriving and i’m here for it

fan4: i don’t know if i want to be y/n or carlos tbh

fan5: god i see what you do for others…

fan6: i need a carlos

fan7: y/n stayed with charles for three years and homeboy never took her anywhere, but in a month only carlos managed to take her to her favorite place

fan8: that’s what you deserve girl

fan9: i’m so jealous

landonorris: i can fit in a luggage so next time hit me up mate

carlossainz55: i’d probably ship you to nicaragua on purpose

landonorris: and that’s why i prefer charles over you

fan10: not lando and carlos fighting in the comments lmao

fan11: carlos came out straight off a book wtf

view all comments.

carlossainz55 just posted a story!

caption: vacation with fam <3

"can i talk to you, dear?" reyes warm tone made you smile, you sat up from your deck chair and made some place for the woman. she sat next to you and smiled. she was so kind to you, even though you met a few hours ago, she welcomed you into her family with open arms. "are you enjoying yourself, bella?" the nickname made you chuckle as you nodded, you didn’t know why but next to her you felt like a kid. "don’t be shy!" she laughed, pushing you slightly with her shoulder. "sorry. spain is amazing i really like it." reyes nodded. "great, because it seems like you’re going to be around here often now." she winked at you which made the both of you laugh.

"you know, you’re the first girl carlos brings home." that actually surprised you, carlos always had that don juan image in your mind which made you think he’d have way more exes. "believe it or not but carlito is pretty shy, and before you he always declined the blind dates his father would set him up for." the woman smiled and looked at her son who was fishing with his father a little bit far away from them. "he told me about you way before you two started dating though." "really?" she nodded and took your hand. "it was love at first sight for him." you could feel your cheeks getting hotter and red, you looked up at carlos who was now dancing with a big fish in his hands, he turned around and showed it to you and reyes. "look what i got!" he shouted, you clapped for him while his mom was laughing. "when i see him like this, it reminds me of when he was a little kid, running around and messing with his sisters." you didn’t know what to say so you just squeezed her hand. "you like him a lot, i can tell. if my son has been in love with you for so long, that means that you’re a good person too. so i trust you with him."

liked by carlossainz55, anasainzvdec, reyesvdec and 2 810 001 others.

y/n: congratulations to the newlyweds 🥺🫶🏼 may your marriage be fulfilled with love and happiness!

_

anasainzvdec: you’re an angel y/n, thanks you!

carlossainz55: 💛

fan1: y/n being accepted by the sainz warms my heart for some reasons

fan2: awww she was invited too

fan3: carlos and y/n next 🤪

liked by reyesvdec.

fan4: not reyes liking all the comments about y/n and carlos, she’s so cute

fan5: yellow is your color!

fan6: noooo but carlos inviting y/n to his family vacation and to his sister’s wedding is so cute

fan7: omg y/n blonde era??

fan8: this girl can pull off every colour it’s insane

fan9: meanwhile charles never took y/n to meet his family, they had to accidentally run into each other in monaco to actually meet…

fan10: y/n really is glowing these days omg

fan11: y/n post charles is my favorite y/n

view all comments.

charlesleclerc just posted a story!

caption: 💭

taglist: @ferrariloverr @kimi240302 @rosekar16 @ironmaiden1313

#f1 fandom #f1 au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x female reader #formula one #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader

[iamasimperyk]

Lonely -Rafe Cameron

Summery: Rafe finds you, a Pogue, crying at the beach.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Crying, Not proof-read, English is not my first language

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Part 2

Why was everyone around you in a relationship? It wasn't like you were desperate to get a boyfriend, but somehow it made you feel insecure that you didn't have one. You started to wonder why no one wanted you. Was it because you were ugly? Was it because you weren't someone who liked to go out and party? Or was it because you were too inexperienced?

You didn't want to bother any of your friends with your thoughts, and it wasn't like you had a chance to do so. Since all of them were in a relationship now, no one has time for you anymore. And that's how you found yourself crying on the beach on a Saturday night, alone.

You loved the beach and sometimes you also liked to be alone. From time to time you needed to think things through and just needed some alone time, but right now, you just wished for someone to hug you. You felt lonley and the fact that your friends and every other person on the island would be at a party right now, didn’t make things better.

Pogues and Kooks together at the Bonefire never ended good, so it was the perfect excuse not to go. At least that‘s what you told your friends. They didn‘t even question it, to busy being all lovey dovey in their relationships.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about your friends. You were happy for them, but somehow you longed to feel the rush of a relationship too. You wanted to be kissed, held, and loved.

The fact that you were a little jealous of them made you even more upset. A good friend shouldn’t be jealous, but happy.

You were deep in your thoughts when a voice suddenly pulled you out of them, “Ey!”

You turned around, quickly wiping away your tears.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The one and only Rafe Cameron were walking towards you. The last time you had seen him was on the ship, where he nearly shot you.

“Oh, look who it is.” He gave you one of his famous smirks, now standing in front of you.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” You mumbled, not even looking at him.

Rafe caused nothing but trouble the last few months. He was the reason why the Pogues and you lost the gold. He was the reason why the Pogues and you lost the Cross. He was the reason why John B and Sarah had been missing.

“Could ask you the same question. Never saw you without your little friends.” He chuckled, sitting down next to you.

“Well, I didn’t want to attend the Bonefire, but they did.” You shrugged, looking at the sunset in front of you.

“Didn’t want to go either, too old for the shit I guess,” He sighed to which you let out a humourless laugh, “Rafe Cameron is too old to get wasted? Yeah, great joke.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care, but at least I am not the one sitting here because my friends don’t have time for me anymore.” He hissed.

It wasn’t wrong what he said, but how did he know?

After he saw the look of confusion in your face he spoke up again, “It’s obvious that they don’t have time for you anymore. They are all dating now and you are the only single one.”

Once again, tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. "Are you observing my friend group, Cameron?"

He answered without any emotion, "Do I look like someone who cares about your friend group? It's obvious you're trying too hard to get their attention."

Why didn't your friends see your efforts when even Rafe Cameron did?

“But lucky for you, out of your little group of Pogues, I tolerate you the most," He said after a few seconds.

“Hard to believe since you wanted to kill me a few months ago.” You muttered, drawing little shapes into the sand.

“Oh, come on. I didn’t want to kill you, I just had to get back what belonged to me. The cross,” He started to explain himself, “But it doesn’t matter since I am a new person now.”

“I see, and why’s that?” You raised your eyebrows.

“My dad isn’t here anymore so I am the boss now.” He told you proudly.

“And you cut your hair.” You mumbled quietly, but he heard you regardless, “Looks more mature.”

You nod, “I like it.”

“Did Y/n Y/l/n just complimented my hair?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Why are you really here, Rafe? You saw that it was me sitting here. Why would you come anyway?”

"I left the Bonfire because it was shit, and as I was walking towards my car, I heard someone sobbing. At the Bonefire I saw your friends with my sister, but I couldn't see you. When I saw you sitting here, I knew that something was wrong," he confessed while scratching his buzzed head.

“I appreciate that you came down to talk to me, Rafe, I really do.” You smile a little at him.

It's hard to believe that someone actually came to look after you. Not just anyone, but someone who was supposed to hate you. This person had made your life a living hell for the past few months. Despite this, the last half hour has been the best you have had in a long time.

“Look I am not good with all this emotional shit, but you wanna tell me why you were crying?” He asked carefully.

“Promise me not use it against me?” You asked in the most innocent voice Rafe has ever heard.

He answered with a short ‘promise’ before you started to explain how left out you have felt the past few weeks.

As you finished explaining, tears streamed down your face while Rafe held you tightly.

“Thanks for listing, Rafe. I am sorry I ruined your night,” You wiped away your tears, your eyes puffy from all the crying.

“You haven’t ruined my night, Y/n, actually you made it a lot better. I would probably have stayed at home all alone, trying to drown my thoughts in whiskey.” He told you honestly.

"Better than listening to me whine about my friend's relationships," you said as you hiccuped.

He shook his head, "At least you feel better after telling someone your problems, and I got to hold you."

You smile up at him, “You are happy to hold me? A Pogue?”

He chucked lightly, “Who would have thought.”

“Well, I also didn’t imagine myself at the beach, lying in the arms of a Kook.” After those words left your mouth there was silence.

The two of you were staring at each other until Rafe leaned down. You closed your eyes, your lips were nearly touching when someone called out your name.

“Y/n, is that you?”

#Rafe #Rafe Cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe obx #obx #fluff #pogue #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe

[wandasfifthwife]

(4) sweet thing | I got a bad idea series

—> masterlist

southern!wandanat x fem!city-girl reader

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst

a/n: not really proofread, sorry babes. it’s 3AM and I’m fucking tired and I have classes in a few hours—later I will—enjoy!!

It’s not abnormal for someone with a crush to confess. It’s how a majority of relationships start however the “confession” may go. Some are casual, extreme, dull; some don’t confess anything at all. You were between wanting to be honest and wanting to keep it hidden until it fades away.

It felt all too fast. You had begun to question if their actions last night were flirtatious. Your mind swaps each moment where you were held close to their chest as a part of the dance. Anytime they said something flirtatious, you told yourself it was them being friendly. You fall all too fast and this is just another time where you’ve fallen for the first person who’s shown care in you. You have nobody to blame but yourself.

Wanda stood beside you at the post office, the letter Natasha fretted about in her hands. The lights were a strange yellow, and not to mention hanging off of the ceiling. A few of the white squares tiled were cracked from heavy packages being dropped onto them. Neither of you thought it to be trashy, it felt like home if anything, with each break and crack remind you the backstory on how it happened.

You had driven back with your brother the night before, grinning as you daydreamed the whole car ride home. Anything anyone said to you that night, you responded with excitement. You carried your brother up the stairs, heaving him onto the couch downstairs and took to the guest room.

He still laid on the couch that morning when Wanda walked on your front porch. You however were awake, opening the door with a cheerful expression. That’s why you’re standing beside her now in the office.

“Hi there,” she says, sliding the envelope onto the counter, “I wanted to come and ask why we’ve been receiving the wrong mail?”

The old man behind the counter pulls out his glasses, “you’re not Miss Parson?”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Huh,” he grunts, “I’ll take it and ship it over. Might be a new mailman issue.”

She thanks him, pulling her purse back onto her shoulder. She pushes the door open, holding it until you walk out.

“It’s not a big deal” she starts, “I just dont want to deal with Natasha nagging anymore.”

“Does she worry over things often?”

“Natasha doesn’t have great control over her stress. She tends to react however she feels in the moment.”

“And you?”

She rests her hand on your seat, looking behind you as she backs the car out, “I just think some things aren’t worth so much stress.”

“Like the envelope,” you ask.

“Exactly like the envelope,” she laughs, removing her hands from the wheel to let it spin back, “are you doing anything else today?”

“I don’t believe so, why?”

“You could help me unload a shipment. Natasha had to leave early this morning for a meeting in town, so she won’t be back until late.”

You agree to help, “what kind of shipment is it?”

“Different types of feed. They were supposed to come a week ago, another thing Natasha’s been nagging me about.”

She parks the car, taking the keys out of the ignition before stepping down and out of the car. An old man stood nearby, bottom side hanging from how he was leaning over his car. Wanda mumbles to you as you walk over, “don’t worry about the remarks he may make, it’s just because he’s never been laid.”

You believed her. It was proven to be true a minute after he got out from the truck bed. His attention on you while Wanda talked to him was a signal he took interest in you. He opened his mouth and immediately Wanda was walking him in the opposite direction.

“Can you unload for me,” she calls out to you, “set it all back by the shed out in the back

You hear the old man make a remark to Wanda as you walk off with two bags in hand. It took four rounds until everything was set in the shed. The seasons were changing, grass turning yellow and tree leaves popping warm colors of red and orange. The wind was cold, but the sun and humidity still made a presence. Your arms tired after heaving thirty pounds for half an hour.

Wanda frowns seeing you, “oh sweetheart, would you like a drink?”

She brought you inside, her home more familiar after the frequent visits. You knew where her kitchen was, pulling a seat out to comfortably rest. She pours a cup, setting it on the table in front of you. You short-circuit when her fingers splay across the expanse of your back.

“Thank you,” she says, voice dropping, “I appreciate all the help. Natasha will be erratic once she’s back home and realizes she has two less things to worry over.”

You lean forward onto the table to hopefully signal you’d like her fingers to move wish ease across more skin. She does, moving to press her cold hand brushes against your neck. You sigh, dropping your head onto the table.

“Of course, I don’t mind.”

“How’re you feeling about going home soon.”

The reminder of your soon flight made your stomach drop. These moments would come to an end when you got the plane. You curse at yourself and shrug her hand away.

“Okay,” she begins, tone sharp, “what’s all this about?”

“What’s what?”

She sidesteps around your chair to face you, “this flaky attitude.”

“Oh really, flaky?”

“You’ve been hiding out since the first day you came back,” she rests her back against the counter, attention fixed on you, “why.”

“I’m asking, what do you mean by flaky?”

“You act like it’s more convenient to run rather than talking about it with us. You ran the night you got drunk, you avoided us after, and you’re about to do it again,” she sighs, “don’t you think that’s quite immature for your age?”

You tear up, teeth biting at your cheek to keep it at bay. She stays silent, patiently awaiting whatever reaction you’ll have. You’re avoiding her, focusing on picking at your nails.

“I like you.”

It’s lower than a whisper but she hears it.

“I enjoy being around you more than I should,” your voice wobbles, “and I don’t want it to turn into something real so that’s why I keep running. You make it all the more difficult when you continue to reach out.”

Her hands are on you again, holding your face as she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are closed shut, eyelashes wet from crying. Small apologies tumble from your lips in the tense space.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” she stops you, “I want to ask you to stay until Natasha gets back. Are you alright with that, angel?”

You nod and she mumbles an okay, stepping back from you to give you space to breathe. Time passes and your tears eventually dry, leaving small shiny marks on your face. You mention to Wanda that your heads begin to hurt and she’s quick to bring you simple pain meds.

You take them with the drink she poured earlier. She watches you until the sound of the front key hitting the front door has pulled her attention elsewhere. Natasha steps through the front door, setting down her bags. Her muffled greetings cutting short seeing you and your tear stained face.

“Everything alright?”

You’re scared and can feel it creeping up in your lungs, making it feel like you can’t fully breathe. Wanda leans in front, setting a hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” she shushes you with a smile, “you’re alright. I only wanted to wait until she got home so we can share our little secret with you too.”

“Oh cut it out already,” you wheeze, “it’s not funny.”

Natasha interrupts, “I’m very confused.”

Wanda ignores her wife continuing where she left off.

“We feel the same way, angel.”

Your heart jumps, the brokenness in it wishing to be healed, but you’re still unbelieving even after she’s just told you. All throughout the day you’ve believed the things she’s told you and now you’re doubting one sentence.

“What?”

“Ever since that night, seeing you again. We’ve been growing fond of you.”

Natasha’s caught on now. She’s found herself sitting at the table across from you. She looks exhausted with her hair a mess and eye bags prevalent.

“We can take it slow,” she adds on, “see how it feels tomorrow and decide from there.”

“But I’m leaving soon.”

“That’s fine. You’re holding the reins here, we’ll be okay what whatever you suggest.”

You smile, “tomorrow sounds nice.”

masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

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#I got a bad idea series #southern!wandanat x reader #wandanat x reader #southern!wandanat #southern!natasha #southern!wanda #wanda x reader #wanda x nat x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #natasha x wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x natasha #natasha x fem!reader smut #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x wanda #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x reader #marvel natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff

[fangirl-dot-com]

Lewis Hamilton and George Russel - I'm with a Knight and Slenderman, No One Can Touch Me

It’s part 4 time! This was so fun to write and I laughed so hard at some parts. I feel like George is a really underrated driver. He’s funny and a good person (even though he looks like Woody from Toy Story). And the girlfriend effect has hit him hard. His hair is so beautiful and I need to know what he does with his bangs. 

And then Sir Lewis – good Lord, he needs to go back to that one hairstyle from that one interview that made everyone fall for him 

Specially dedicated to @treehouse-mouse <3

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED] 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all &lt;;3 

“Shit,” you muttered as you looked around the now empty paddock. You knew that taking a nap after your media duties had been done was a bad idea. You had played nap roulette with yourself and were now paying the consequences. You shouldn’t have said “oh, I won’t set an alarm. Someone will come get me. I might nap for ten minutes or it might be 3 hours. Who knows!” 

Well, now you knew. It was three hours. 

You looked around for your backpack that you had come with. But as your eyes danced around the garage, it was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you at least remembered your phone. But alas, the world hated you for being a woman: your phone was dead. 

“Ok, there’s no reason to panic. Let’s head to the parking lot and see if someone is still here,” you whispered to yourself. Walking carefully, you exited the dark paddock. The parking lot was no different. 

Dark, cold, and empty. 

“Great. Just great.” You decided to sit on a curb and wait. Maybe by now, Christian or Max would know that you are missing, and will come back to get you. 

Or maybe they were mad at you. Yes, you were on the podium. As a rookie. At your first race. 

But you made a mistake that costed the team a 1-2 finish. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be looked for. 

Before your thoughts could spiral more, two bright headlights blinded you. You raised a hand to try to cover at least some of your face. The two front doors of the car swung open. Your heart started to race. 

It was just you out here and they might be kidnappers. 

“Please I have no money on me. Don’t beat me up or kidnap me. Trust, you do not want to sell me or anything like that,” you spoke out, trying to hinder their unknown wants for you. Your fear slowly melted away at a familiar grandpa laugh and bean-pole build of the two figures. 

“Lewis! George!” You stood up quickly. 

“What are you doing out here?” George peered down. Your neck was bent to even look up at him. 

“Um. I might have been left behind because I was taking a nap. And my phone is also dead.” You sheepishly grinned at the two. 

Lewis sighed before bringing out his phone. “I don’t have Christian’s number, but Toto does. Let me give him a call.” 

Your head cocked. “Do you not have Max’s number?” George let out a laugh. 

“Kid. Think of Abu Dhabi 2021.” Your eyes widened. 

“Sorry.” 

Lewis waved you off and walked a bit aways to hear Toto. George just kind of stared at you as you stared at him. 

“Are you ok?” 

“Of course I’m ok. I’m with a knight,” you pointed at Lewis, “and Slenderman. No one can touch me.” You crossed your arms before giggling. George just gawked at your boldness. You took this time to look at the nice Mercedes in front of you. “Is this the new model?” 

George nodded. “Yeah, Lewis just got it. He won’t let me drive it though.” A pout formed on his lips. 

“I get what you mean. Max won’t let me drive his Ferrari.” 

“Why would you want to drive that junk?” 

Your head tilted. “I don’t know. I like my Porsches better though.” It was George’s time to raise an eye brow. “I haven’t gotten them yet. But they’ll be ready soon. I had to ship one to London and the other to Monaco.” 

“Ah.” 

You looked at Lewis, who was still on the phone. You had an idea. 

A very bad one, but an idea none-the-less. 

“You wanna go somewhere?” You pointed at the still running car. Lewis should have taken the keys. 

“Where would we go?” George was already grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“There’s a burger king a couple of miles away.” 

George was already climbing into the driver’s side. “Let’s get going!”

Back with Lewis, he was still on the phone. For some reason, Toto would still not give him Christian’s number. 

“Please Toto, I am with two children,” he pinched his brow, “and I’m tired and I’d like to get back to the hotel. So please send me Max’s or Christian’s number.” He wasn’t aware of his car that was now filled with said two children making their getaway. He hung up once he got Max’s number. 

His phone rang for a few seconds before Max’s voice sounded over the background noise of a party. 

“Who is this?” 

“It’s Lewis. You left your kid here.” He heard Max curse on the other side. 

“I thought Vito was getting her, but Vito is right at the bar. Can you send me your location so I can pick her up?” 

Lewis waved a hand, even though Max couldn’t see it. “No worries, I can just drop her off. I’m with George and we’ll driver her over. I have my-” Lewis stopped.

“Lewis? Are you there?” 

Lewis’ eyes scanned the now empty parking lot. He groaned. “They took my car!” 

Max laughed for a bit before he realized that Lewis wasn’t playing. “Send my your location, I’m already out the door. We’ll find them.” 

By the time Max got to Lewis, you and George were already having the time of your lives. 

You pointed out the window. “Look Georgie. Traffic cones. Have you ever put one on your head?” 

When George denied that he had, you gasped and told him to pull over. You and him climbed out of the low car and walked over to the traffic cones. By now, your phone was a bit charged, courtesy of the charger in the vehicle. And it was blowing up. 

But you didn’t see it or care. 

You picked up one of the cones and put it on your head. Your giggle resonated through it. 

“Y/n, smile!” You heard George say. You smiled, even though it wouldn’t be seen under the orange hat. 

George told you that he was going to set up the camera to take a picture of the two of you. 

“Let’s put our heads together.” The two cones whacked against the other. George had to bend over so that they would be close.

You laughed as your hair was staticky due to the cone. George’s hair was the same, which made you laugh even harder. “Send that to me, I’m going to post in on the gram.” 

The only notification you looked at was the one from George with the picture. Quicky uploading it, you knew you were about to create even more chaos. 

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a bit. Your thoughts from earlier quickly sprang into your head, due to the silence between you two. 

“George?” you questioned, looking ahead. He was currently scrolling through his phone, but he made a noise to let you know that he was listening. 

“What was it like having a teammate that you know you’ll never amount to? Not saying that you won’t amount to Lewis at some point, but,” you trailed off, not knowing how to continue. 

The click of his phone let you know that George was now focused on the conversation. 

“I get what you mean. It’s very overwhelming. You get put up with world champions, and people are already expecting you to beat records and perform as well as they do.” George sighed as he reflected on his first year with Mercedes. How the people would taunt that he wasn’t good enough to be Lewis’s teammate and that he should just be second fiddle to him. Suddenly, he noticed a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Tears also wetted his face. 

When had he started crying? 

You continued to rub his shoulder until his tears stopped. 

You tried to console him. “Well, we can be second-fiddle buddies together?” you offered, hoping he would laugh. And he did. 

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a few more minutes. But at this point, you knew that Lewis along with Max were probably on their way to get you. You pulled yourself up, then held out a hand to George, who took it without second thought.  

Before you knew it, the two of you were back in the car, just chilling. 

“Look what Max and Lewis are saying.” You showed him the screen and laughed. It really was fun to mess with old men. 

“Are we still going to burger king?” 

You nodded your head. “If Lewis can be a knight, I need a crown to be the king.” 

“Don’t you mean queen?” he asked as he started the car back up again. 

“Nope.” You popped the P and that was a good enough answer. George pulled away from the side of the street and made his way to the Burger King. The two of you were thankful that it was mostly empty, except for the employees. The two of you ordered more than enough food for two people. You justified it as giving the workers more money. 

Your companion went along with it. 

“Order number 69,” the tired lady called out. George and you shared a look before the two of you collapsing on the ground, dying with laughter and probably exhaustion. You were still giggling as you took the food from the lady. You muttered a thank you before you and George took a table near the back. 

“Did you get your slushie?” you questioned, holding your cup. 

“I didn’t know they had slushies!” 

You took George’s hand and let him over to the machine. The amount of slushies that you slurped down would never be recorded. As you drank one of your last ones, you suddenly remembered an important detail. 

You looked over at the tired lady who took your order. “Do you have the crowns?”  

Max was still constantly trying to reach you, with one hand on the steering wheel and his phone in the other. 

“Come on kid. Pick up,” he pleaded and cursed when the call went to voicemail for the umpteenth time that night. 

Lewis was texting all the drivers in the group chat, asking if they’d seen the two of you. They came up short. 

“This is ridiculous,” Max seethed. “How could you have let them do this?” 

Lewis shot him a glare. “How could you leave her at the paddock after dark?” he bit back. 

“Like I said, Vito was supposed to take her back to the hotel. She’s not allowed in the clubs.” 

“Then Christian should find some way for everyone to party. The kid got a podium her first race as a rookie, and she was left behind.” 

Max banged his head on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. Lewis was correct. He wondered if you felt forgotten. Knowing you, you probably did. And it was mostly his fault. He’d talk to Christian about alternatives until you turned legal age.

“I’ll talk to Christian about that. What were you and George doing back at the paddock anyway?” 

Lewis grimaced. “I forgot a file back at our garage. George seemed antsy and restless so I invited him. Never doing that again.” 

Max smirked, “Kids. Am I right?”  

“Look!” Lewis pointed at a familiar car in the parking lot of an empty Burger King. Max pulled in on two wheels. As they walked up, their eyes landed on two people, crowns on their heads, hands flailing. 

Max pushed the door open and stopped towards the figures. His hands landed aggressively on the table. “Do you two know how much trouble you’re in.” 

He heard laughing from behind him. 

“Max. That’s not them,” Lewis whispered. 

Max’s head jerked and saw the scared faces of two employees. He heard more laughing and whipped his head around, eyes finally falling on you and George, whose phone was out recording. You looked as if you were about to explode with laughter. 

“I’m sorry about that.” He turned around and stomped towards your table. “Let’s try this again.” 

His palms hit the correct table this time. “Do the two of you know how much trouble you are in?” He looked into your eyes before glancing at George. 

You stared up at the seething Dutchman. You pulled out a french fry.  

“Fry?” 

“Lewis, I got you an impossible whopper.” George held out the wrapped food. 

Max sighed, anger waning by the minute. There was no fighting with the two of you. The two adult-figures sat down and started to eat. Max munched on a fry as Lewis started to eat the burger. 

You and George continued to talk about your so-called adventures. 

“And then George ran a red light.” 

Lewis choked as George winced. Lewis’s head jerked toward George, eyes squinting. 

“You’re paying for that.” George only shrugged, he had enough money anyway. 

Max just stared in silence, mulling over the exhausting night. You could sense that he was still cooling off, and you were scared of what he might say in the car. 

The food was quickly finished and the four of you were headed out the door. It seemed as though yours and George’s energy levels were quickly tanking as the two of you barely said a goodbye. The hug and faux tears though were enough for Lewis and Max to roll their eyes. 

You watched as George and Lewis left in the Mercedes. You gulped as you got into the passenger side of Max’s rental vehicle. You winced at the proximity. 

You mind quickly went back to your dad. How he’d hit the side of your face if you did anything that was “out of line.” Or he’d pinch your thigh until it bruised. Those were the easiest to hide. When your face was a little too red and purple, your helmet stayed on for the entire race day. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the thought of Max turning out to be like him. You didn’t think he would, but you were out of line tonight. 

No fun. No sneaking out. No stealing (borrowing) cars. 

You were sinking into yourself, and Max could sense that. 

He turned to look at you. What he said next was shocking. 

“I’m sorry kid.” 

Your eyes bulged. “Why are you sorry? If anything, I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.” 

Max just stared at you before slowly putting his hand near your head. 

This was it. He was going to hit you and you’d have to live through everything again. You couldn’t tell Christian that his golden-child would do such a thing. And no one would ever believe you. 

You jerked back as your eyes closed tight. Your body tensed, waiting for the repercussion to your actions. Your breaths got a little bit faster and shorter.   

But it never came. 

All that was, was a gentle placed hand on the top of your head. 

Comforting. Loving. Cherishing. 

Max wanted to cry as he saw how your body prepared for something horrible. Something nasty. 

“Kleintje,” Max breathed out. 

Your tears began to make their escape down the hills of your cheeks. You could only repeat and whisper I’m sorry, over and over again. Max couldn’t do anything but wait for you to calm down and maybe tell him what was racing through your head. 

Your breathing evened out as you felt there was nothing coming. Soon you were embarrassed for thinking that Max, one of the only people to seem to care about you, would do such a thing. Yet, your mind always went back to your patterns.

People who should care, didn’t. Hands that were made for comforting, didn’t. Encouragements didn’t exist…for you. 

Maybe you were the problem. 

But, maybe you weren’t. You’d allow some comfort, just this once. 

Max cooed as you leaned into his hand. He knew you were tired. A long day of racing and a long night of adventures would really do that to you.  

He didn’t expect you to explain to so quickly. But you knew how to surprise someone. 

“My dad and mom, weren’t the nicest. They wanted a boy, got me instead.” You harshly exhaled. “They put me in karting because if they had had a boy, they would have done the same. I was just a placeholder.”

Max listened, wanting to hear what you said. 

“It started off small. A push here, a hit to the helmet there. I really didn’t think anything of it. Until I was about 7 and I crashed my kart on the last lap. I was going to win too, but I over compensated and hit the wall. All I remember after that race was my dad grabbing my wrist and yanking me to the car. I hit my head on the dash, I think. Or he was the one to push my head in.” You shrugged at the nasty memory, as if it didn’t matter. 

Max on the other hand, was getting angrier. Yes, his dad did similar things, but he was a boy. He could stand up for himself. And he had his mom and sister. 

You had no one. 

“The next morning, I woke up and there was this giant bruise on my face and smaller ones littered my arms. I thought that was the end of it, except it continued. I was able to hide it pretty well. My race suit pretty much covered everything. I also didn’t have many friends, or, I just didn’t have friends. So there, wasn’t a need to worry. They stopped after I made it to the end of F4, because I was winning and there were more cameras. The moment I made it to F3 in 2019, they disowned me.” 

He did the math. You would have been 16 at the time. Still a kid, but smaller. His heart broke for you. 

“Kid, look at me.” 

You turned your head and made eye contact. Your brows furrowed when you saw tears in his eyes. 

He wasn’t supposed to cry. Why was he crying? 

“I’m crying because no one should ever have to go through something like that.” Oh, you must have said that out loud.

You shrugged once again, “I probably deserved it.” 

“No, geitje, no one deserves that. Ever. You didn’t.” You could only nod along. Your eyes were getting tired by the minute. Max could tell so he started the car. He only had one more thing to say. (translation : kid) 

“My dad did similar things. But I had people to help me. And I know your dad isn’t around, but Y/n,” he said your name, trying to emphasize that he was serious. “I am here for you. Christian is here for you. Mitch is here and so is Vito. We love you. I’m not a good teammate, and you can see that I’ve gone through more teammates than anyone else has in the amount of time I’ve been here. I’m the only constant. But I think that we will actually work out. Best duo right?” 

For the first time since Burger King, where you and him were still parked, he saw your eyes light up. 

You nodded, “Best duo.” 

Max finally took that as a sign that you’d be ok for the night. He carefully back the car out and started on the road toward the hotel. 

“Do you think Christian will let me come to the club next race.” 

Max let out a sarcastic laugh. “Definitely not.” 

Your giggles filled the small space. Max’s heart swelled at making you laugh. 

You’d be all right. He’d make sure of it. 

AN: oh my gosh that got REAL depressing – I apologize. But, Max needed to know a bit more about your lore if he’s going to be able to fend off any unwanted visitors (FORESHADOWING). Anyway, I will see you all at the next chapter! Muah! Much love <3 – author :D 

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader #fernando alonso x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n

[phefics]

An idea: poly!ghostface- the boys are out about to go after a victim when they find they’re missing something/something broken (the phone isn’t working or their voice changer doesn’t have batteries whatever you want is totally cool!)

They realize- afab!reader the needy little whore did it on purpose so they’d have to come home to her and give her attention like they don’t give her attention 99% of the time.

Which of course they do and they are very very grumpy angy bois. All like “oh you missed us you wanted our attention you know you’d get it when we came home but you had to ruin our game and now we gotta take our energy and anger out somehow”

Followed by some smutty degradation, spanking/punishment, good ole fashion filth lol

Side note i think you have one of the easiest to understand request rules idk some people just make them complicated but yours is great!

needy little whore

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: exactly what the ask above says!! :) warnings: degradtion, spanking, a bit of knifeplay, rough/unprotected sex, face-fucking word count: 1.3k

You knew that you were asking for trouble, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It wasn’t that Billy and Stu weren’t giving you enough attention. In fact, to the average person, they would be considered abnormally clingy. It didn’t bother you, though, because you were the same way.

You would have survived one night without them, but you were feeling mischievous that night. You wanted to piss them off so that they’d take it out on you, because angry sex with Billy and Stu was a whole new level of adrenaline.

So, you stole the batteries out of their voice changer, and then hid all the other batteries in the house. You weren’t stupid: You knew the reason they wouldn’t be hanging at Stu’s tonight, and you didn’t mind that as much as you minded their attention being elsewhere.

Since Stu’s family was rarely home, you would often hang out there even when Stu wasn’t around. He didn’t care, and had even given you a spare key.

You watched the two boys head out the door, black backpacks surely stuffed with everything they’d need to carry out a brutal crime.

You popped in a VHS of Nightmare on Elm Street, then made yourself comfortable on the couch, wearing the most revealing pajamas you had. You had seen the way the boys looked at you before they left, and smirked to yourself.

You only made it about twenty minutes into the movie before you heard a car pull into the driveway outside. Anticipation built inside you, but you stayed put, looking innocent as ever as Billy and Stu burst through the front door, both looking absolutely pissed.

“What did you do?” Billy demanded.

You looked up at him with your sweetest expression. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” Stu said. “You’re fuckin’ lucky we tested the thing first.”

“You trying to get us caught?” Billy asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up from the couch. “You know we can’t fuck you if we’re in jail, right? Is that what you want?”

You shook your head. “No, of course not—”

“Ruining our game just cause you wanna get fucked, huh?” Stu said, closing in behind you. You were trapped between them now, Billy still holding your wrist as Stu pressed himself against your ass; he was already hard, and you bit back a moan at the realization.

“I just—”

“Couldn’t wait til we got home?” Billy smirked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You would have gotten what you wanted later, but the needy whole just couldn’t wait.”

Stu gripped your hips from behind, breathing against your ear. “Well, we gotta get our energy out somehow. But now it’s all gonna be focused on you, baby. We’re gonna fuckin’ destroy you.”

You whimpered as they manhandled you back onto the couch, the film still playing in the background.

“Look at these slutty clothes,” Billy practically purred. “Barely covering anything…”

Stu pulled a knife from the bag he’d been carrying, the blade glinting in the light. “Bet you won’t mind if we take ‘em off,” he said, using the sharp blade to cut the strap of your top, then doing the same to the other side.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Billy stroked your hair and whispered, “We’ll buy you somethin’ even prettier, m’kay?”

Before you could offer a response, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them reflexively, making him chuckle.

“Such a fucking slut,” he said.

Stu pulled the remnants of your tattered clothes off, leaving you naked as Billy pulled his hand back, admiring the strings of spit on his fingers before licking it off. He and Stu were completely fucking depraved, and it turned you on more than you could handle.

You were quickly pushed onto all fours on the couch, and you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of them fucking you. But that was wishful thinking. Instead, a hand came down on your ass with a hard slap! making you yelp.

You turned your head to see that it was Stu who had hit you, and you pouted at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that pathetic face,” he said. “You thought we were just gonna give you what you wanted after that? Not a chance, baby. We gotta punish you first.”

He laughed as you whined in response, clearly enjoying your frustration.

They took turns spanking you, slapping your ass without mercy.

“Count them,” Billy had ordered.

Each number left your mouth between pained groans and squeaks, stuttering over nine and eleven and thirteen, but when they hit twenty, they stopped, apparently satisfied with your teary face and marked-up ass.

“Think we should give the whore what she wants?” Stu asked.

Billy hummed, considering it. “I doubt she learned her lesson, but I wanna fuck her too bad to care right now.”

“Agreed,” Stu said, and you stayed on your knees as the two of them stripped out of their clothes hurriedly, bickering about who was going to take what place.

“You always get to fuck her, let me—”

“Her mouth is just as good—”

“Do I get a say in this?” you asked.

“No,” the boys replied, grinning at their synchronized speech.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched them play a rigorous game of rock-paper-scissors for who got to fuck you, and your laugh only grew when Stu won, and Billy flipped him off.

Some nights they would take turns, but after the spanking that they’d given you, they were gracious enough to not push your limits too far.

You were already wet, but Stu took some time playing with your pussy, fingers fumbling through your folds to rub at your clit, and you bucked your hips uselessly, moaning at his touch.

Billy walked to the other end of the couch, grabbing you by your hair and smirking down at you. “You gonna let me fuck your throat, slut?” he asked.

You nodded, opening your mouth for him without needing to be asked. He chuckled at your obedience, and wasted no time in pushing his cock between your lips.

As he did so, Stu was lining himself up with your entrance, his grip impossibly tight on your hips and he entered you, slow at first, before immediately picking up the pace, snapping his hips rhythmically. Every time he thrust forward, it made Billy’s dick go further into your mouth, and the sounds of their moaning filled your ears as they used you like the needy whore you were.

Your eyes teared as you focused on breathing through your nose amidst the pleasure of Stu’s cock inside you. Before you met them, you could never cum from penetration, but both Billy and Stu had a way of fucking you so good, rough just like you wanted, that it had become more common for you to orgasm from it.

“So fuckin’ hot,” Billy murmured, almost to himself. “Perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

“Such a slut,” Stu added. “Taking us both at once. Gettin’ off on it, too.”

You whined at their words, floating from the mixture of praise and degradation.

Stu came first, and Billy followed shortly after, and the three of you collapsed onto the couch together, sweaty and tired.

Stu leaned over to you and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You had a suspicion it was partly so that he could taste Billy’s cum, but you kissed him back anyway.

“Get a room,” Billy joked, making Stu giggle.

Nightmare on Elm Street was almost over, and you were sticky and exhausted.

“You wanna get cleaned up, baby?” Stu asked.

You nodded, and before you could say anything, he was carefully leading you to the bathroom, his arms supporting the majority of your weight.

Billy went upstairs to grab you some clothes to borrow—a pair of his pajama pants, and one of Stu’s t-shirts. It was all too big on you, but it was comfortable and smelt like them.

You fell asleep to the sound of Billy and Stu planning another night to carry out the plan that you’d ruined. Maybe next time you’d take the burner phones off their chargers.

#poly!ghostface #billy x reader x stu #stuilly #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #billy x stu x reader #poly!ghostface x reader #slasher smut #slasher fic #ophelia's fics

[korereapers]

I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

#scriddler #my stuff #and laxi's #dc #riddler #scarecrow #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #jonathan crane #i love you laxi.... really

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Tear stained pillow case - p4

Pairings - Drew Starkey x reader

Summary - Trying to forgive and forget

Warnings - a little angst, handjob. (18+)

A/n - wow wow it’s taken me so long to finish this chapter and honestly I wanted it to keep be angsty and depressing but I’m a sucker for happiness.

Part 3

Two weeks had gone by since you and Drew decided to move forward, it had been hard for you. Hard to let him back in, hard to trust, hard to let him touch you. But, even though it has been hard, the erratic beat of your heart and goosebumps that littered your silky skin when he was around was enough for you to know to push the negativity to the back of your mind.

You continued to tell yourself to take it slow and let the relationship start back up, you couldn’t jump back into the deep end. He was on board with everything you said, he gave you space when you needed it and he didn’t push you to talk when you didn’t want to.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought about their kiss. Especially today when he was doing an interview just across town. He had called you when he was leaving and straight away he could tell, you were very quiet on the phone he almost couldn’t hear your responses.

“Please babe”

“Drew… you kissed someone else, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy” you sighed over the phone, pacing your bedroom floor.

You had been on the phone for just under 10 minutes. He had a lot of work commitments. You’d seen each other twice, both times had been great, he took you to the park for a picnic and the other time he made you watch rom coms with an abundance of snacks.

“It was just a kiss”

“Just a kiss?”

“Wait.. I didn’t mean it like that”

“Just a kiss? To you it may have been just a kiss… to me you were throwing away 4 years of love and adoration”

Your fingers hit the side button, closing down the call with him. You felt sick, you always felt sick. It had never been like this when he was filming for outerbanks but then he met Odessa and was booked for a role with her, you obviously didn’t care if he had to kiss or act out sex scenes for a movie,

You were so proud of him and you wanted him to have the best career, but the moment people started shipping them together that’s when it started making you feel sick because you could feel it within yourself that he was slipping away.

“y/n”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by your Mum slinking in. She closed the door behind her and pulled you into a hug, brushing your hair from your face.

She guided you back to the bed and let you cry, tears staining her work blouse.

You didn’t want to keep crying over him, you wanted to forgive him and move on. But every time you looked at his lips the images of Odessa and him flooded you. You felt like you were drowning around him. And that couldn’t be good.

“He loves you dearly”

“Then why did he kiss her?”

“I don’t know baby… but I do know that man would do anything to have you forgive him. Do you want to forgive him?”

“Of course I do… I just don’t know how”

She continued to pat your hair, humming a soft tune before pulling you up right. Grabbing a tissue she wipes under your eyes and begins to pull your hair up into a ponytail.

It brought back memories of when you were a child, warmth surrounds your aching heart.

“Your going to get yourself dresses, your going to go to reach out to Odessa” “wait what” “let me finish”

“You're going to talk to her, ask the questions you need the truth too. You're then going to make the decision, do you stay or do you go”

You hadn’t told Drew that you contacted Odessa, a part of you wanted to make sure he couldn’t reach out to her and tell her to keep her mouth shut, it made you sick to even think that. Drew wasn’t that kind of person, he would have owned up to his mistakes the moment he told you he kissed her.

Surprisingly she had been more than willing to FaceTime you, she called you at around 5pm. Your fingers shook as you pressed the answer call, her face popped up on screen. She was a lot prettier than you, was the first thing you thought, it latched onto the part of your brain that had you feeling self conscious the whole call.

“I’m really sorry y/n, it was such a dumb thing to do on my part” your eyebrows crease together. “I kissed him”

“Oh” she doesn’t say anything for a moment, running a hand down her face and fixing the phone up. “Can you tell me what happened?” You question, you needed the full story. “Of course”.

Odessa admitted to falling for Drew, she said she had no intentions of doing so. That her and her girlfriend had broken up and he was there for her during the filming of hell raiser. She told you how she knew it was wrong and constantly fought with herself when she was around him, telling herself he was in a relationship. But it didn’t stop her from kissing him one night, the two of them left an event and were standing in the hotel hallway. He wanted to make sure she went inside before he went to his, she took his loitering around for something else and grabbed him by the shirt, the kiss lasted maybe 15 seconds.

She said he hadn’t kissed her back at first but then he did just before pulling away and leaving her in the hallway without a word.

She said he wasn’t their in the morning and she knew she fucked the friendship because he stopped answering her calls.

“And then I found out the two of you broke up and I wanted to reach out and say it was my fault but who wants to hear from the slutty friend”.

“Nothing else happened?”

“Nothing else, he left and I haven’t seen him since”

“Okay”

It’s silent for a few moments, you can feel her staring at you. “I’m really sorry y/n”.

You nod your head and stop the call, you didn’t owe her a thank you or a goodbye. You got what you needed.

You drove yourself over to your old apartment, bags packed. If you were going to give this another shot you needed to go back home, you couldn’t keep putting off seeing him. How were you meant to push through if you only see him once a week?

Your key is in the lock before you can wimp out, the house is dimly lit and you can hear the shower running. You drop your bags and lock the door behind you, your legs are taking you towards the sound of running water. Slowly strip off your jumper and shirt followed by the rest of your clothes until you're enveloped by the steam, clearing your nostrils.

You tap your knuckles against the bathroom door “it’s me”. His head pokes out of the glass door, you don’t miss the way his eyes widen at your naked body. “Hi”

Stepping into the shower he stares down at you with a smile but he doesn’t touch you, unsure if he is allowed to. So you reach up and press your palms to his chest, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. His hand holds your jaw, you're the one deepening the kiss. He lets you take control, he doesn’t want to push you to do something you weren’t ready for. “Sorry” he mumbles as you're pulling away and looking between the two of you, his cock was hard. Poking you in the stomach, his cheeks flushed pink. You hesitate for a split second before your hand wraps around the base of him, looking up at him through your lashes you catch the role of his eyes.

His cock throbs within your hand, pre cum leaks from his pink tip. Your hand jerks up and down his shaft, emitting moans from Drew, his hips begin to jerk. Your thighs pressed together at the sounds he lets out, you can feel your own arousal leaking down your thigh. His large hands grips the glass door steadying himself, his knees weak under him. “Y/n” he groans, you looking between his face and his cock. His body shudders under the shower, spraying you with warm water. “I’m… oh fuck I’m going to cum” he grunts, your free hand cups his balls this tips him over the edge and his spurting his cum all over his stomach.

He takes deep breaths to calm his erratic heart rate, your small hands push him under the water and help him clean himself up. “What was that for?” He questioned, you shrugged and leaned up to kiss him again. “Paying my debts from the other night”.

He thinks back to the night he helped you get off on his clothes cock, another pink blush creeps onto his cheek. “You didn’t have to but thank you”. You kiss for a bit longer, his hands wander all over your body sending shivers down your spine.

A familiar warmth settles within you and you can’t hide the bin grin in your face. You missed this, you missed him.

Then he’s helping you wash yourself, wrapping a towel around you when you both get out. “Do you need clothes?” “My bags are at the front door”.

He can’t hide the smile that creeps on his lips, he practically runs out of the bedroom and grabs your stuff. He watches you pull things out and put back in their place, he quickly throws on a pair of basketball shorts and watches you change into a shirt and shorts.

“Is that my shirt?” “Yeah” another smile creeps on his lips. You had been wearing one of his shirts everyday since you broke up, it had started to smell more like you than it did him.

He’s sat on the bed watching you until you take a seat next to him. “I spoke to Odessa” tension fills the room but he doesn’t move, eyes still on you waiting for you to speak again. “I asked her to tell me everything” “okay”

He turns slightly and pulls you closer to him, your legs over his. “I’m still not over the fact you kissed her but it does make me feel slightly better that she initiated it and you did stop it after a split moment of hesitation”. He nods, his fingers are drawing circles on your thigh. “I’m so sorry” he breathes. “I shouldn’t have said it was just a kiss, it was a kiss that broke us up and I’m so stupid for saying I couldn’t do it anymore, of course I could. You're the only person I want, actually the only person I need”

“Your the only person I want too”

🏷️ - @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @users09 @teresalesbian @outerbankspov @bbycowboi @stuffyownswrld @ietss @tastycakee @maybankslover @loverofdrewstarkey @wpdailyminimeta @willowpains @littlefirefly08 @brooklynscherry-z @imnotapretzelsstuff @ijustwanttoreadlols @its-ria-07 @onedayatatime6 @victory-in-the-llama @brooklynscherry-z @abbyshmaby @lassie-bird @daisylovesrafe @pet1t3 @crazyf0robx @willowalexissss @kys4-20 @xo-hayleyy-xo (I tagged a few people who commented on the last part, lmk if you don’t want me to tag you in the next part)

#drew starkey smut #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks smut #rafe cameron #drew starkey #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks x reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #Drew smut #drew x reader #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc #rafe angst #rafe fluff #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx

[fanby-fckry]

You know what, I’m just gonna say it. I think that Alastor being aroace is part of the reason he’s so shippable to me.

Before you come at me, check the flag in my pfp; I’m aroace-spec.

Maybe it’s me projecting, maybe it’s because I love exploring relationships through an aroace lens, but goddamn. I ship him more than any other character and every time I do, his aroaceness is a major component in the ship.

Examples below the cut because it’s gonna get long:

📻🍎 || RadioApple:

There are so many versions of this dynamic and I am here for all of them.

We have the pre-canon kinky QPR that I show in UH3. I could talk about that all day, but to summarize:

Aroace x genuinely respectful allo is a dynamic that heals my soul.

Lucifer is less tied down by human constructs like amatonormativity, having never been human himself.

The Devil values consent.

Kinky cannibalism, kinky cannibalism, kinky cannibalism, kinky ca- *I am removed from the stage with a comically large hook*

Then we have the Evil and fucked up QPR dynamic:

And of course, trying to get along for Charlie’s sake and eventually bonding over their shared love of dad jokes and musical theatre, both being violinists (yup, Alastor plays violin too, check the wiki) with niche hobbies/interests (ducks, furby organ) and accidentally winding up in a loving, healthy QPR.

📻🕸️ || RadioDust:

There’s something about an aroace and a sex worker who very rarely falls in love.

Angel would know that Alastor isn’t with him for sex, would know that he values Angel beyond his body.

With greyro Alastor, Angel and Alastor would both be inexperienced with romance, but in wildly different ways. Angel has never had a healthy romantic relationship and therefor tries not to fall in love. Greyro Alastor has probably experienced romantic attraction like less than three times in his 100+ years of existence.

And if Alastor never gains romantic attraction for Angel, that’s a whole other level to the dynamic.

It’s got some great angst potential with Angel wondering if he’s not good enough to love romantically or Alastor feeling guilty or confused as to Why It Hasn’t Happened Yet when he cares for Angel so deeply, and eventually it gets resolved with the two of them accepting that their attractions don’t have to match up for them to love/appreciate/care for each other and they smash the amatonormative relationship hierarchy as queer platonic partners.

Or, Angel’s just totally cool with it from the start because he’s spent decades in the kink scene and has potentially been exposed to more relationship anarchy than Alastor.

Kink and queerness have a great deal of historical and cultural overlap, and that includes aroace queerness. Because Angel’s had way more canon exposure to both, it’s possible he knows more about Alastor’s orientation than Alastor does, and I love the idea of Angel introducing him to terms or just being super chill about not labeling things.

📻♥️ || RadioHusk:

Drawing like 90% from pilot dynamic and headcanon on this. They’re just two old men. They get drunk and cuddle. Alastor is one of the few people who knows Husk can purr and takes advantage of this fact. Alastor considers Husk a friend in a fucked up, possessive way. Husk considers Alastor a pain in the ass, but does care about him on some level.

It’s Fucked Up and Evil QPR: Remix Edition.

And the versions where the author puts them through fanfic couple’s therapy and actually gets them into a healthy point in their relationship? One where Alastor no longer owns Husk’s Soul? *chef’s kiss*

📻🌹 || RadioRose:

For me, personally, this is an exclusively nonsexual, non-romantic ship. They’re besties; they’re QPPs. They’re married for the tax benefits and so that they cannot be forced to testify against each other in court.

Rosie knew Alastor was aroace before he did and rather than sit down and explain it to him, she decided to make ace puns.

📻💋 || RadioSiren: [edit] RadioFemme

Ok, so this is entirely based on non-canon-compliant Lilith. Or, I guess, non-series-compliant Lilith. More of the old WOG stuff from the pilot era, with a healthy dose of headcanon for flavor.

I love the idea of Lilith and Lucifer having an open marriage; I love the UH3 style polycule dynamic.

Lilith being the original seductress and Alastor being aesthetically but not sexually or romantically attracted to her is very near and dear to my heart.

I’m an aroace with a voice kink who is aesthetically attracted to Lilith and I think Alastor is an aroace with a voice kink who would be aesthetically attracted to Lilith, ok?

📻📺 || RadioStatic:

I’m gonna be real with you, 90% of my interest in RadioStatic is in the one-sided version where Vox is a pathetic little incel simp and Alastor is either oblivious, mildly annoyed, or finds the whole thing hilarious.

Whenever there’s any reciprocation on Alastor’s part, I always imagine it being in a very aroace, very Alastor-esque way. He needs to be get something out of it completely unrelated to sex/romance. And he needs to be manipulative and sadistic in the process.

Whether that something is kink-related, a business transaction, or simply the quality entertainment provided by Vox being a cringefail TV-headed little bitch, I love to see it.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #radioapple #radiodust #radiohusk #radiorose #radiofemme #radiostatic #onewaybroadcast #fanby’s fuckery #osha violation #suggestive

[cosmicpoutine]

leaving a lil rant here :]

I love Tim and his ships sm. Me personally, I only really ship TimKon. Those two are perfect for eachother and have so much clear queer coding that it’s crazy, and they have dialogue that’s just. gay shaped.

I also get TimBart, I don’t ship it romantically but I get why people do!! Tim and Bart are close as well, and the balance they get between ‘depressed tired wet cat’ and ‘living breathing embodiment of adhd’ is great.

I also get TimBartKon, they’re a trio. They are always a trio, so many people like to bring up how TimKon has so much coding and one of the big examples they use is when Tim tried to clone Kon. You know who else he tried to clone? Bart.

The only Tim ship I don’t get is TimBern, or any ship involving those two. When Bernard first appears, he’s Tim’s bully. He actively makes fun of tim and puts him down and then that character is forgotten about until Tim comes out as bi, then they just rework his character and go “haha guys this is his boyfriend not bully ygs are crazy” and just forget about all the bad stuff Bernard did? Reworking a character is great and all but, it just feels a bit weird and out of place for me. There’s always going to be that certain toxicity for TimBern, at least for me.

homie... bully??? im flabbergasted- im speechless- im jason todd (dead)

okay, im gonna start off by saying you have all the right to not ship them, and im not here to defend timbern as a ship. im here to defend BERNARD DOWD.

first thing bernard does is give tim advice about teachers, and he clearly says they're gonna be good friends.

if bernard was a bully, tim wouldn't hang around him so much. besides, i hate it when people place tim as a helpless little boy who would get bullied. he has put himself in situations where he looks weak on purpose to keep his identity safe, but he's not a victim at all. tim is a social butterfly because he's really good at masking and reading people.

not to mention, both bernard and darla push tim a lot because they're trying to get him to open up and be closer to them, but he keeps pushing them away. tim is a professional liar.

and when tim has to quit robin and start hanging out with normal people, he invites bernard over.

and bernard is acting relatively normal, and he wants to play video games and talk about how hot tim's stepmom is.

bernard is a normal teenager who has no idea one of his friends is the hero he's so obsessed with. he even shows concern for robin dying and makes up an entire conspiracy theory about batman havin a robin orphanage. you can tell he's afraid of robin being gone for real because at this point they haven't seen robin in months bc tim retired.

i dont know what about all of these interactions gave you the vibe that he's a bully because all i see is a normal teenager teasing his friends and being jealous tim gets more bitches.

im not saying that bernard was never mean or weird around tim, but he definitely wasn't actively bullying tim.

bernard is obnoxious and cocky, yes. but thats just because they wrote him as a real person. he's the school's chameleon, maybe even a little bit of a loser, too. he knows everyone but keeps a safe distance so that he doesn't get pushed into a box. im not sure if, at this point, he was already in a cult or being indoctrinated, but when we see his parents and the dowd home in tim drake: robin that just doesn't look right.

also homie talk about "forgetting all the bad things bernard did" (which in my opinion is none but okay lets follow that logic) everyone forget about all the bad things batman did to tim, he was not a kind and loving mentor, he was cruel to both tim and steph. we forget that batman was kind of an asshole to damien in the beginning. all those things are forgotten for the sake of the batfam.

in conclusion: we're just so used to the idea that superheroes can only ever form strong friendship bonds by having near death experiences together that we forget that the secret identifies exist and that the people who know them by their legal name also means a lot to them. after all, these people are the reason why they're heroes.

#bernard dowd #timbern #tim drake #i could make a 2 hours long video essay on bernard dowd and how deep his character actually goes #but yall are not ready for that #ask #cosmic inbox