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jyoongim · 3 months

Note

Your hate fuck fic was absolutely SCRUMPTIOUS. Anything else with that mean ole’ radio demon degrading the reader would be greatly appreciated 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ maybe like the reader was angels friend- it’s a given she’s well versed in sex n such but has given up that life and he’s determined to see just what made her so popular 👹

themes: 18+! Fem!reader, creampies, fingering, begging, retired pornstar? Nudity, implied drunk sex (reader goes get sober), kissing, dick-riding, blowjob, long tongue, implied pussyeating,

Alastor x retired!pornstar reader

When you came to the hotel you were rather embarrassed to show up looking a hot mess, but regardless Charlie took you in.

You smiled when you saw a familiar face, Angel. Th two of you worked under Valentino until you ‘retired’.

“Toots here was the best in the business! She always knew how to bring in the big bucks” Angel had said during your introduction to the others, causing Husker to groan at the thought of another Angel in their midst and the others to be surprised. You really didn’t match the description.

You were the epitome of sex appeal before calling it quits. But the industry wasn’t like it use to be and Val wanted you to be more…willing to venture out of your comfort zone.

You weren’t really a pornstar per say, but you knew how to get the job done.

But you wanted to turn a new leaf. You ditched the tight and revealing outfits for more loose and modest clothing. It felt good to be your actual self.

But that didn’t mean that your sexual appetite just disappeared.

Alastor was the first to notice when you ditched the slutty attire to more conservative wears. You carried yourself like a well-mannered lady, but he always saw how you looked at him.

So he took it upon himself to see just how far you go when you couldnt contain your desires any longer.

You had been drinking with Angel, discussing how dumb Val’s scripts were and wondering how people enjoyed horribly written porn plots.

Angel had passed out on the couch and you stumbled your way to your room.

You giggled as you crashed into stuff and sighed in relief when you found what you thought was your bedroom.

You began undressing and in your drunken state, you caught sight of a full mirror. You took in your form and admired how you looked.

maybe you should have dibbled into porn. Your body was killer.

You pitted around to try and find a nightie for bed, but frowned as you came up empty.

”What are you doing in my room my Dear?” A voice asked, causing you to yelp and turn around to fins Alastor standing in the door.

You blinked slowly “y-your room? no this is…” you finally took in your surroundings and realized that you were indeed NOT in your room.

Instead, it was Alastor’s room.

You rubbed your neck, embarrassed “O-oh I’m sorry Alastor” you staggered to the door and went to move past him, but he shut the door.

”now now my dear a lady shouldn’t be walking the halls in your state, why dont you rest here for a while” his smile wide.

It had to be the alcohol in your system, because you smiled back and leaned your body into his, arms circling his neck “Oh Alastor youre so kind”

You had completely forgot you were practically naked.

Now that you were up close, you took in his features.

Angel was right. He was hot.

You always had thought Alastor was attractive. He oozed dominance and carried himself with such a prideful way.

You oftened imagined him having his way with you at night, resulting in many panties needing to be changed in the morning.

”something the matter my dear?” Alastor asked as he saw you stared at him, cheeks turning a rosy pink.

”H-has anyone every told you that you’re sexy?”

Alastor blinked and let out a laugh

”Oh my dear! Please this is Hell, I hear a lot of things. That pesky spider is always making depraved jokes of a sexual nature”

He grimaced with a shudder

You frowned ”then what about me?” You asked softly.

You suddenly became aware that you were in the nude…in alastor’s room…and he was just conversing like he hadn’t noticed.

He tilted his head, grinning at the pout on your lip

“What about you my dear?”

”You have the best piece of ass that ever graced the pentagram and you’re doing nothing. I’ve had guys kill to get this close to me”

That liquid courage must have been working double in your system, because you nuzzled your nose under his jaw, whining “Don’t you want to touch me?”

Alastor hummed as you trailed your lips up his neck

what a tempting little thing you were

”why don’t you show me what makes you the best doll?”

You had sobered up after the second orgasm.

Alastor had made you cum by his fingers and mouth. The tongue on that one

You were currently bobbing your head p and down on his cock. Eyes locked on his glowing red eyes as you deep throated him. Alastor had a lazy smile on his face as you sucked to your heart content.

You released him with a pop, keeping your tongue wrapped around his length. Happpy with your work you let him go and turned your attention to his balls.

Back in your hay day, you would have never let a man get this far with you, but you wanted this. You wanted to treat Alastor to what made you so appealing.

You climbed your way back onto his lap, slamming your lips on his as you Lined him up to your entrance.

Fuck you were soaking.

A throaty whine escaped you as you lowered yourself on his cock

Alastor’s hands found purchase on your plush ass, helping you set a steady pace.

You were riding him like you’ll never get this chance again.

His cock felt so good. Hitting spots that had you mewling in his mouth.

You were sure his cock was coated white with how soppy your cunt was.

Breaking from his mouth, you moaned as he thrusted up into you, meeting your downward thrust. You were about to cum again. That sweet tingle shot through your core as you bounced on him.

”A-Alastor! Ah! P-please…I-I’m I’m gonna cum” you moaned quickening your pace.

You leaned back, one hand bracing his thigh, the other found your clit and you rubbed tight, fast circles as you rode him.

Alastor watched as you fell apart on his cock, he sped up his thrusts and growled when your cunt started to squeeze him.

”Go on dear. Cum. I want to feel that cunt cum on my cock.”

you whimpered, throwing your head back, a silent scream on your lips as your orgasm ripped through you.

Alastor braced your hips and rutted into you until he tensed; spilling his cum deep into your cunt.

You collapsed into his chest, grinning on him to ride out your orgasm.

panting, you sighed as he peppered your shoulder and neck with kisses.

”Finest cunt to grace Hell indeed my dear”

#hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #jyoongim #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #Alastor imagine #alastor x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 20 days

Note

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he’s hypersexual?

nsft/nsfw warning - mentions of sex, manipulation, etc.

🦷

(to find later)

I (19m) just broke up with my boyfriend (18m) of over one and a half years last night.

For context, I’m demisexual and he’s known this from the very beginning. Plus, I’m a transgender guy and when we first got together I was at the very start of my transition and still extremely uncomfortable with my body. So, sex was just kind of out of the question, and I made that very clear.

Nonetheless, whenever we cuddled he still got all touchy, kissed my neck and begged me to take my clothes off, etc. Whenever I protested, he got all whiny and did that weird puppy eyes thing. He usually gave up after a while and apologized, but it always left me feeling guilty and like I was depriving him of something.

After a while, he told me he’s hypersexual and he’s sorry if he gets a little "too much" sometimes. But he reassured me that he loves me and even if we never get intimate, he wants to be with me. I believed him.

Still, his behavior continued and after a while I just gave in and took my clothes off for him, let him kiss me… you get it. When I put my shirt back on I asked if he was happy now and he got all upset. He was pouting and told me that he never forced me to do anything and he wants me to enjoy these things too. It’s true, he never forced me to do anything but he always got all touchy feely and it made me feel like I had to give him something.

As the relationship progressed, I just resorted to giving him oral to satisfy him but he always insisted on returning the favor. The thing is, I was his first relationship and he didn’t have much experience. So, whenever he tried anything, I barely felt anything. Even with tons of communication and showing him how to do things. It just left me feeling gross and unsatisfied.

At some point, I decided I had to let him do the full thing. (stupid, I know, but I’m an insecure 19 year old) So, we did it and I hated it. It felt uncomfortable and he didn’t even try to give me any sort of pleasure, he just ran off to take a shower after he finished. I cried in his bed that night but never told him about it. I just pretended to be okay and to like this stuff.

When I told him I wanted to get top surgery, he begged me not to get it or to get the keyhole procedure so I don’t lose feeling in my nipples. Because it’s the only way he’s ever been able to give me pleasure. I don’t really wanna spell it out, but yeah.

When I told him that being shirtless during the nasty made me wanna cry, he told me that he never asked me to take my shirt or binder off. I just did it. But the thing is, I did it because he liked it. Never once did he apologize or comfort me. It just made me feel disgusting and extremely dysphoric.

He always blamed all his behavior on being hypersexual and not being able to control himself when I’m so cute. Or whatever…

So, I made up my mind to break up with him. The thing is, I know all of this makes him sound horrible. But he was genuinely a good boyfriend and I love him a lot. So, I feel like shit for breaking up with him just because he’s hypersexual. I tried to talk to him about it and find a solution, but he never changed despite promising to do so. I don’t really see what else I could’ve done.

Am I the asshole for this? I’d appreciate it if other hypersexual people could give me their opinions on this! Because I don’t want to believe that this is how hypersexual people usually act.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 months

Text

The One I Want: Part 15

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, fluff, angst, inaccurate navy stuff, typos for sure (fr didn't proofread tonight)

Words: 3537

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“He really didn’t call last night?” Millie finally asks. She’s been watching you out of the corner of her eye for the better half of an hour, sitting in a plastic chair on the opposite side of the gift shop’s counter as she unconvincingly flips through the pages of a bridal magazine.

The stack Millie brought to your work was an attempt to distract you so you would have something to think about other than Jake, but you’ve done nothing other than stare at the same wedding dress on the same page since Millie arrived. You can’t even say it’s a nice dress that would compliment your friend’s figure, so you’re about as useless as they come for a Maid of Honor. Dresses, flowers, bachelorette parties—it all sits nestled in the back of your mind, and you’d feel horrible for not taking the details of the wedding more seriously, but right now you’re not alone in using it as a distraction from missing the men in your lives.

At least Millie has received some reassurance. Rooster has taken every opportunity to call her, to comfort her, to express his love. But Jake? Nothing. The most you’ve gotten is a “He’s fine, just a bit drawn into himself lately. Got a lot on his mind,” from Millie who reported that information secondhand from her fiance.

That Jake has put you in a place of questioning is a blow to your heart, but in an effort to stay sane, you haven’t allowed yourself to create potential explanations for him in your head. He’ll reach out eventually, and when he does, you trust he’ll give you all the answers you need.

But for now, you shake your head.

“What is wrong with that boy?” Millie huffs, leaning back in her chair. “I was hopin’ he’d make up for his lack of calls with a beautiful handwritten letter confessin’ his love, but good lord.”

“He already told me he loves me.”

The magazine drops onto her lap. Her jaw practically unhinges. “How are you just tellin’ me this now?” she asks. “What did you say?”

Running your fingers through your hair, you close your magazine and shove it aside. “He didn’t let me say anything,” you tell her, relief washing over you at finally letting it out. “It was over the phone as they were leaving, and he hung up before I could get two words in.”

Millie sighs. “Oh, Honey.” She sits up and scoots the chair as close to the counter as possible so she can easier wrap your hand in hers.

“You know–” she begins, but then pauses as she rethinks, “Or, well, maybe you don’t know—but you should know Jake doesn’t throw that word around lightly. I haven’t known him as long as the others, but I do know that you were a total game-changer. He told all of us that from the moment he saw you he was a goner.”

Heat floods your cheeks at hearing the words he once told you. You’ve believed him to be genuine for a long time, but it’s incredibly fulfilling to know he felt strongly enough to tell his friends before you were willing to consider your own feelings for him.

Being honest with yourself, you weren’t in the same place the first time you saw Jake. You thought he was beautiful and magnetic, and being that beautiful and magnetic, you were convinced he was going to be just as troublesome. There was no room in your mind to consider yourself a goner. Your shields were unbreakable. But now, when you replay the last few months of your life—replay the first time you really took him in, the first time his fingers touched yours—you can acknowledge that in choosing to stay here, the feelings you’ve developed for him were inevitable. Goner for goner—it just took you a moment to catch up.

Millie grins at the red tinge you can’t conceal. “He’s been Mr. Game Changer himself, hmm?”

Shooting her a look before playfully rolling your eyes, you say, “Don’t tease me about things you already know, Millie.”

“The next time he calls, do you want me to tell Bradley to knock some sense back into that pretty, blond head?”

You chuckle. “No, it’s ok,” you say. “Jake was patient with me. It’s my turn to be patient with him. He’ll come through.”

“I’m sure it'll be soon. For you, he’d–” Millie’s eyes flick just past your head. “Oh, fuck no,” she mutters as the store’s door swings open and closes from behind you. “We don’t accept trash here. Please take yourself out,” Millie sasses, making you turn in your chair.

Brit doesn’t acknowledge the tiny redhead. Her dark eyes are darts, so focused on you she hardly blinks. For some reason, though, you don’t sense the animosity you did the last time she brought herself around.

“It’s been a while,” she says to you.

Millie scoffs. “Not long enough.”

As much as you want to, you don’t feed into your friend’s comments. Defending you is appreciated, but you have a feeling that poking at the blonde will delay her departure, and Brit doesn’t need to be in your life and space any longer than you desire to be in hers.

“What can I do for you?” you ask.

“I came here to say something.”

“We don’t have a good track record there.”

With arms crossed, Brit rolls her eyes. “Right, well…I was pissed.”

Millie mimics Brit’s behavior; arm-crossing, eye-rolling, and attitude included. “Award-winnin’ excuse, honey.”

“Can't you scram?”

“Can and will are two different things.”

Your eyes move to Millie. The fire within her is too powerful to die out against the challenge before her, and you’re positive the two could go on for hours if you let them, neither willing to back down. But you want Brit to get on with it. Surely she knows after her last failure that she’s unable to affect you or Jake and the plans you have with one another, all of which do not include her. So what else is there for her to bother you with?

“Millie, it’s ok,” you say, snapping the tense band of their stare-off.

Her face softens when she looks at you. Words don’t have to be exchanged for her to understand what you’re asking of her. She stands and walks to Brit with a pointed finger. “I’m gonna be watchin’ you through the window like a stalker the entire time.”

After stepping outside, she immediately turns to face the window, just as promised.

You stand as well and brace yourself against the wall, keeping the barrier of the counter between you. “I’d love to get this over with, so what do you want to say?”

Brit takes her time, running her fingernail over the packets of gum in their display before she decides to take a seat in the vacant chair. With her legs crossed, her hands clasp in her lap. “I don’t know if you are aware, but Jake dropped by for a nice little visit a couple of days before he left,” she shares with you. Then she sighs as if bored. “He said some things. A lot of things. Bared his soul and all that shit. It was rather dramatic.”

While shocked, you suppose you don’t need a million guesses to figure out why he would go to her before leaving you. He expressed his concerns weeks ago, and no matter how fiercely you tried to reassure him, you couldn’t snuff it out completely. You could always see it in his eyes—a dimmed but persistent flickering of worry.

Brit yanks you from your thoughts. “You’re not ever going to let him go, are you,” she says.

“No.”

“Yea…” She runs her tongue over her teeth, making that squelching sound you had hoped to never hear again. “He’s not going to let you go, either. He made that clear.”

You get that feeling again—that deep fulfillment from being with Jake. You could’ve lived your whole life and the adventures that come with it—from marriage to children to grandchildren, if that is what you and Jake choose—completely unaware of him working behind the scenes to protect and defend and love you.

It seems silly to not have realized before, but you’re so new to this kind of love that inexperience has you approaching it in a fairly straightforward manner. You don’t hide your emotions or actions from Jake anymore. You’re sad, you cry, he comforts you. You’re mad, you yell, he calms you. You’re happy, you smile, and he smiles right with you. And you’ve done the same for him. Open and honest and, as you once agreed, hearts bare.

You would do anything for Jake, and he for you, but you never considered that his affection extended past what you see. Not because it shouldn’t; that’s what love is, you know that. But the love of your past was hollow, very out of sight out of mind on their end; a disconnection that those men used to boost their egos by making fun of you to their friends or flirting with other women when you weren’t around.

Unless taught differently, a person only knows what they've known. So the idea of Jake going above and beyond in that way simply never crossed your mind.

“At first, I hated him for it,” Brit says, suspiciously even-toned. “Showing up at my door, desperately trying to appeal to god knows what while he repeatedly reminds me that he won’t be with me because he’s in love with you. I mean, can you believe the fucking audacity of a man to do that to a woman?”

You can, because you know hurt and embarrassment inside and out, and up and down. Without the context of their situation—were it any other man spouting off to any other woman—you could find it in yourself to feel sympathy as easily as you find your next breath. But Brit deserves the treatment she’s describing; not for the sake of cruelly getting even after the harassment she doled out, but because she needs to hear the truth of the matter from Jake’s lips. She’s in the wrong, what she has done is unacceptable, and perhaps most importantly: you are not the reason Jake doesn’t want to be with her. Whether she eventually accepts that truth or not is another thing entirely.

“I’ve spent these weeks hating him more than I thought possible,” she says.

You shake your head. “Brit, I don’t understand where this is going, and to be honest, I’m–”

“You once asked me if I was tired,” she interrupts you, her tone raising to overlap yours. It succeeds in silencing you. “Well, I’m tired.”

If you could find your voice, you don’t know what you would do with it. When she cornered you in the Hard Deck’s bathroom with a plethora of insults and threats, you shot back at her with few words and a final question. But considering her lack of self-reflection, it wasn’t a question you imagined she might one day reassess.

Brit rises and straightens out her top. She gives you one final look. “So, now you know.”

Then she exits the store and disappears around the other side of the building where the sidewalk meets the street.

“What the actual fuck was that about?” Millie asks, returning to your side.

You’re still staring at the spot where she vanished. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you start, then swallow, “But I think she’s done with us.”

—

You love all of the things that still smell like Jake. The sheets, the pillow, the interior of his truck, the kitchen because that’s the first place he’d go after putting cologne on in the morning. He lingers everywhere, and when you close your eyes, you can trick yourself into believing he’s right beside you. But after a while of sitting around the scent with your eyes closed, the illusion dissipates. If Jake was actually near you, only so much time would pass before he’d begin touching and kissing and whispering sweet things in your ear.

“You know I can’t help myself,” he’d say. And without him here, you can’t convince the scene to play out.

It’s like a bad dream that doesn’t lose its power over you even after you wake. It’s still in your brain, in the race of your heart, in the heavy gasps from your lungs. Dreams you often have that, even when sweet and beautiful, aren’t. If they’re not full of horrible images that leave you shaking in bed, they’re reminders of good times with Jake, and it’s the good times that ache the most when they’re over.

Tonight, though, it’s not the dreams that shoot you awake. It’s the ring of your phone from an unknown number.

When Jake first left, every unknown number that popped up on your screen jolted an electric shock through your body. But after so many telemarketers and automated calls from the apartment building updating you on temporary changes to office hours, you stopped expecting anything else.

Grabbing your phone, you slam the tip of your finger onto the little green circle and lift it to your ear. “Seriously, calling in the middle of the night is so messed up! I told you to take me off your list!”

“What list?”

Your eyes widen, and every scrap of half-asleep grumpiness falls away at the sound of his voice. “J-Jake?”

“Hey, beautiful…”

He sounds as tired as you are, but you can practically feel the smile on his face. You’re sure it’s a weak smile, all he can muster due to the exhaustion, but it’s there and it’s for you.

Your vision blurs and you blink and fat droplets soak into his comforter. You rub your thumb over the damp circles. “I should slap you,” you say, your nose already becoming stuffy from your tears.

“Oh, you should do much worse than that,” he replies. You lightly chuckle, so he lightly chuckles, then silence holds until he sighs. “I’m so sorry. I miss you so damn much.”

“So much you didn’t want to call before now? It's been a long time, Jake.”

“I did want to call,” he tells you. “And I could have—I should have—but I just…I freaked out a bit.”

“Why?”

Jake sighs again, and he must’ve pulled the phone away from his face because there’s a muttering so faint you can barely hear it. But then loudly and clearly, he says, “Because I fucked up, beautiful, and I’m embarrassed. You deserved better.”

Your mouth goes dry.

Fucked up. Fucked. Up.

Before you can stop yourself, you catch a glimpse of what the next few moments could turn your life into.

Fucked up. Slept with someone. Sorry. Thought I loved you. Not your fault. You can stay at the apartment until I get back.

Pain, and heartbreak, and tears fatter than the ones you’re currently shedding. Lost trust that will never be found for anyone else. No more confidence. No more self-love. No more vulnerability.

Twelfth new place.

But then he says, “That’s not how I should have told you I love you.”

One sentence. A snap of the fingers and every invading thought is shoved out of your head. You breathe. Shake your head. Swipe your fingers across your cheek to wipe away the first tear brought on by what you thought was about to break your heart.

“It’s not how I wanted to do it,” he continues. “I was going to tell you so many times in the week before I left, but I didn’t know how you were going to react. Then I thought I’d say it at the dock, but Rooster was next to me and Millie was next to you, and no way in hell was I going to have them there the first time I said that to you.

“Before I knew it, we were on the ship and it hit me that I ran out of chances. But I couldn’t go without you knowing, so I didn’t think, I just did it,” he says. “I didn’t realize how fucking lame it was until the next day. I mean, Rooster told Millie on a damn ferris wheel, and Bob…” There's a pause. “Actually, I shouldn't tell you what Bob did for his girl; it shames us all.”

Finally, he takes a breath. “Anyway, after we were gone, whenever I wanted to call you I froze up because I had no idea what you would say and how you would feel. The thought of you being disappointed with me or with something I did–”

“Jake–”

“Especially something like this—it makes me–”

“Jake, I don't care that you told me over the phone,” you manage to slip in between his words.

“Y-You don’t?”

“No, of course not,” you snicker, running the back of your hand under your nose to clear away any snot. “What I care about is that you didn't let me respond,” you tell him. “I care that the only way I've known you're safe has been through Millie.”

This time, Jake’s sigh sounds different; one more of relief than anything. Minutes of talking has anxiety lifting off of both of your shoulders by the pounds. Jake is okay, Jake is safe, Jake still loves you. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re not so disappointed in him that you didn’t hang up the second you heard his voice.

“Beautiful, if I could kick myself I would.”

“I’m sure you could ask one of the others to do it.”

“Anyone in particular you’d prefer to do the honors?”

You hum. “Javy never skips leg day. I’m sure he’s got a strong swing.”

Jake laughs loud enough for you to jerk your ear away from the speaker. “I’ll surprise him with the good news in the morning,” he says.

There’s a handful of things you could say in response. Cute things. Witty things. Sassy things, like requesting pictures of said kick in the ass as proof. But you don’t say those things. While you’d love to continue on the lighter path of conversation, you have more questions.

“Why didn’t you let me respond?” you ask.

It’s amazing that you can’t see him yet you can feel his shift in attitude. As if in slow motion, you picture each phase of the bright smile disintegrating off his face.

Jake clears his throat. “You want the selfish or the less selfish reason first?”

“In that order is fine.”

“Ok. Selfishly, I didn’t want to hear you say you don’t love me,” he says. “But that wasn’t my first thought. My first thought was that I just needed you to know. I didn’t care if you loved me too, I cared that you knew you were loved.

“It was after it was out of my mouth that I realized you might feel pressured to give me a response, which I also didn’t want for you. Then the selfish part came into play because what if you responded with anything other than that you love me too? Would it have made me stop loving you? No. But it would’ve hurt…badly.”

“You honestly think that I don’t?”

“I don’t know, beautiful.”

You can see his weak smile again, and you can picture how this conversation would go if he were in front of you rather than a thousand miles away. With that smile, he’d hold your hand and brush your hair behind your ear. He’d smooth your tears back into your cheeks with his thumb because he’d hate that they’re there before he pulls you into him to kiss you.

“You’ve been through so much,” he says. “I don’t expect you to be in love with me, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn't hurt to hear you confirm it.”

You cry a little harder for the tears that shouldn’t be shedding; for the uncertainty he’s been feeling; for the questions you’ve been asking yourself over the last couple of months. All unnecessary. All of which could’ve been solved had he given you a chance to respond or called you at his first opportunity.

You empathize with why he didn’t. Jake may be a man who doesn’t throw the ‘love’ word around often, but you’re a woman who has refused to throw it out at all. You protect yourself that way. You maintain some semblance of power by never speaking it aloud to someone who would not reciprocate. You understand what it means to tell someone you love them when you’ve lost those you love, and you’ve refused to do it for that purpose. It’s a risk of facing more loss.

But it’s a risk Jake took that would have instantly proved worth it. You only wish he could have known that at the time.

“Jake, I–”

“Please don’t,” he stops you. “I don’t want you to say anything until I get back. Either way, I mean. If you feel how I do, or, you know…if you don’t. I’d rather not know until I’m with you again.”

“You would rather wait months to know how I feel?”

“Well, that’s the thing, beautiful,” he says. “We might be coming home sooner than expected.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @rosiahills22 @oliviah-25 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun hangman #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction

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ms-demeanor · 2 months

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I was homeschooled, and didn't much like it, and always kinda assumed I would've had a better time in public school, in large part bc I was raised in a religion that didn't survive much contact with the outside world. You're like the second person in as many weeks I've heard talking about nightmarish bullying experiences in school, and I'm remembering times now when I was a kid when I did occasionally talk to public schooled kids, and they always seemed to say they wanted to be homeschooled, mostly bc of bullies. (I was the kind of annoying to say that if I were public schooled I would probably just stand up to the bullies!)

I'm not totally sure what I meant to ask here but ig broadly what I'm thinking is just... Like, whoa, it's really bad in there, huh?

Eh.

I had a really, really, really bad time of it but homeschooling probably would have been much worse for me and realistically there were not that many people at my school who were dealing with bullying at a level that I was dealing with bullying.

I could have asked for homeschooling or independent study because of that, and I actually know two people who did, both of whom ended up coming back to school within a year.

I also think that schools are way better about bullying now than they were in the 90s-early 2000s.

That doesn't mean they're perfect, but the institutional attitude about intervention changed a lot when more kids started killing themselves.

But, like, legitimately without my public high school yearbook I probably would have killed myself. Getting bullied sucked, but eventually I found a niche where I was able to develop skills and some level of friendship and could spend many hours a day focusing on doing something that I liked that would have been impossible for me if I was on my own and without the resources a public school offered.

This is how I'm 37 and have been using InDesign at a professional level for 22 years. It's how I got into photography in a serious way. I have had at least three jobs that came as a direct result of working on my high school yearbook (even if people did think I was plotting out sniper positions when I climbed the roof to take student life photos with the telephoto lens).

So the bullying was bad and horribly traumatic but also it was the cherry on top of a shit sundae of other stuff that was going on and literally the best thing in my life at that point was the yearbook.

But also man there were weeks and months in there that I would have done much better with remote school.

So I'm torn!

I kind of think that adolescents are just always going to be terrible to each other and the best you can do is damage control.

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pacificwaternymph · 2 months

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Okay. I don't usually come out and make posts about stuff like this, but I've been seeing it a lot and some of the shit I've seen people post is really pissing me off.

So here's a not-so-gentle reminder that this is about Shubble. This is not about Wilbur, and this is not about you. I am already sick of seeing people lamenting about how sad they are that Wilbur turned out to be a horrible person, or how they have all this Lovejoy merch that they have to get rid of, or debating whether or not it's still okay to support the other members of Lovejoy, and whatever the fuck else. Fucking hell, people, that is not the important part of this!

This is about Shelby. This is about her story, and what she went through. I want to see more posts of people supporting her. I want to see more people watching her content to give her a boost in views. I want everyone to drop Wilbur just like that and not talk about it. Don't give him the fucking time of day.

Because once again, a woman, a victim, has done something really brave and come out and spoke about her trauma, and once again, you all have found a way to make it about the man, about the abuser.

Anyways, if you aren't already subscribed to Shubble, I would totally recommend doing so. She's genuinely a really sweet person and her content is incredibly entertaining.

#no because tell me why WILBUR SOOT is trending #instead of #idk #SHUBBLE #shelby grace #support victims #tw discourse #discourse tw

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dduane · 1 year

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Hello! I was wondering if you’ve shared your ao3 account? Like, have you acknowledged “this account is mine,” or do you keep it personal? Totally respect if you keep it under wraps I just wanted to know if I’m missing something. Hope my wording of this makes sense!

No, it's OK, I get it. You're asking "Have you publicly ID'd a given AO3 account as yours?"

No, and I'm not going to. Because it contains fanfic I've written for pleasure—exactly as I started writing it in my teens—and I have no desire to have that publicly connected with me.

Leaving the usual legal concerns aside (and not being even slightly concerned that a judge would fail to find the fiction "transformational", if the truth came out in a court of law) a significant part of this effort is about answering the question: "What would happen if people read fiction of mine and they didn't know Diane Duane was responsible for it? What would their reaction be?" That urge to discover whether the fiction stands on its own, without the inevitable shadow cast by one’s reputational backstop, still comes up for me in some moods. So when the itch to write fanfic comes up, I scratch it. And all I can say is that, by and large, the results have been satisfying.

Frankly, it's a ton of fun. There's no one to satisfy (at the most immediate level) except me and the local embodiment of the Creative Urge. No one will ever accuse me of "just churning [this] out for more $$$$", because there is no $$$$. And there's room to stretch further and harder than I might normally do in my public work (because there's more forgiveness for failure: and in the arts, I think, failure is absolutely one of the most effective ways to grow). Whatever comes back to me in return for this work—and it is work, some of the hardest I've ever done—is in the form of raw appreciation. So, people, on behalf of my colleagues, let me just say: comment on AO3 fics, yeah? You don't have to be fulsome about it. A word or two will do. And bestow kudos where you may. It's all an AO3 fanfic writer asks.

...And of course some people will say: "Are you off your rocker? You're traditionally published for decades, you have awards, you've been on bestseller lists, how can you not be sure that what you're doing's any good?" ...But you know, no writer is sure all the time. All of us wake up in the middle of the night some time(s), thinking "I'm not sure I've still got it..." and squeezing our eyes shut in terror of future reviews containing the horrible conjecture that Maybe We Never Really Had It To Start With. When you've spent a significant portion of your lifetime making stuff (up) out of nothing, the horrible suspicion that maybe it really has been nothing all the time—I mean, nothing nothing—is unavoidable.

So sometimes some of us want to go out in disguise (and I don't mean paid pseudonymic work: that proves nothing in this particular arena) and see how we fare. I know other traditionally-published writers who've done this—names that would surprise you—and who, by and large, have done it for the same reasons. We are the dark figures, hooded and cloaked, sitting in the shadows of some of the more prominent fandoms that express themselves on AO3; eyes glinting in the firelight, enjoying the reactions to the stories we've got to tell.

It's not bad here, in the shadows. For one thing, you're in a better position to appreciate the figures moving in the light. There's a lot of extraordinary talent on AO3 (and elsewhere in the online fanfic world), sharing stuff with us out of their own hard work and from their own urge toward grace. It's a privilege to read them. (Some of them are better writers than I am. I appreciate them: and comment, and leave kudos, because that's how appreciation is concretely shown. And I take notes.)

Beyond that, there's nothing much to add except that I have no plans to stop. And also: that I think kindly every single day of the very small and exclusive group of people who know "who" I am on AO3, and have kindly kept that data to themselves. Your confidence honors me, friends. May the Work do you honor in return. :)

And now: I owe you all an update, so you'll have to excuse me while I get on with it. :)

#AO3 #fanfic #anonymous writing

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brain-n-body-in-disarray · 3 months

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What the h*ll is "basic hygiene" anyway?

If you're like me, you've been struggling with hygiene for a long time. I'm neurodivergent, I have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, so yeah, it's been hard, my whole life.

Here's a few tips that helped me or some of my friends.

1. Redefine "basic hygiene"

No, really. Redefine it. Neurotypical and able-bodied people will tell you all can of things about what is "basic" hygiene.

The rule is: do what you can. That's it. The rest of the post will be tips to increase what you can do. But in the meantime, just do your best. You're fantastic the way you are.

2. Time

There's two thing here.

The first is: find the right time for you. It's not always easy, because we often have obligations, and we're supposed to be clean at those right moments. It's not easy. Sometimes it "helps" because it gives us that "boost" we needed to start getting clean, but most of the time it's just stressful. So instead find the moment that works best for you. I know there's moments in the day when it'll be easier for me to start tasks that I would struggle with at an other time, but I prioritise other things instead for a reason or another. Try washing yourself then, even if people will tell you it's strange to have a shower at three pm. Who cares.

The second is: divide to conquer. You don't have to wash ALL the parts of your body at once. You don't necessarily have the energy for it and it's okay. Also it can feel daunting to face that long list of steps. A body has a LOT of parts to wash and clean. Really, that's scary and exhausting. So the solution might be to do smaller things here and there. Do what you can when you can, that's okay. At least you've done something, that's great!

You are also allowed to take breaks in the middle. It can help if you are tired, or if it makes you anxious.

3. Wipes.

I personally hate washing with soap and water, whether it's a bath, shower or just at the sink. It takes time, it's a lot of steps, and it feels horrible. I do it when I can, but I don't enjoy it. The partial solution is wipes.

Baby wipes are great, they're soft, some smell good but faint, some has no odor. You can clean yourself quickly without rinsing. And they don't let that terrible feeling on your skin.

There's wipes made for your private parts. Which is an important part to clean. Also wet toilet paper is good. (For private parts wipes, buy the organic ones, you don't want anything too harsh there)

Make-up removal wipes are not just to remove make-up. They do clean you face.

Don't use antibacterial wipes though. At least not regularly. They are too harsh for your skin, you'll just damage it. Also too much antibacterial stuffs just make bacterias more resistant.

Bonus point: wipes can easily be carried in a bag. Handy.

4. Charts and lists and apps.

Whether you forget to do it or it you have done it already, or you can't get motivated, or you can't manage to start washing, or there's so many steps you get overwhelmed, or you start but can't remember what to do next, etc., those tips might help.

There's apps like Habitica (it's the most well known but there's others) that help you building habits and remembering to do stuffs and making it fun (help with rewards). It's about general tasks but can be applied to washing. A friend also told me there's a pokemon app to brush your teeth but I haven't tried it.

If you get overwhelmed by the steps and get lost in the middle, making a list of those steps, laminating and putting it in the bathroom near the sink or in the shower can help you keeping tracks. You can even put a dry erase marker near the list to check what have already be done.

5. The "bath buddy"

If you live with someone, you can ask their help.

I'm not saying they have to wash you. Or maybe I am? A friend takes his showers with his boyfriend to help getting motivated.

It can just be your platonic roommate behind the door talking to you, telling you funny stories.

Having company can help start the task and make it more enjoyable which help in itself but also make it less daunting the next times. Having a bath buddy also helps if you get lost in the middle of a task, they can tell you what the next step is. They can also keep you on tracks and in the present (I know I tend to dissociate a lot in the bathroom). And they keep your mind off the bad stuffs (body dysphoria for example, or sensory discomfort)

6. You're never too old for "kids' stuffs"

Because you're never to old for fun stuffs.

No, really, there's no reason why you should deprive yourself of something that would make washing more fun.

Wash your teeth with bubblegum flavored toothpaste.

Play with bathtoys. Buy those little plastic boats and those little squirting animals. (Seriously, the fact that the only fun thing for bath for adult is bubbles is a crime)

The word here is "fun". Make the bathroom fun. Buy a shower curtain with cute elephants playing with water. Put adhesive ducks on the tiles. Make that darn room a place you want to be in, not just to distract you from the bad stuff but to enjoy your life.

7. Teeth. Oh no, the teeth.

First thing: as I said, you don't have to use that "adult toothpaste". The menthol contained in it can be sensory hell. You can use kid toothpaste, it cleans just as well. If you can't use any toothpaste try brushing without it with just water. You can also try toothpaste tablets (you chew on them and then brush). You can try mouthwash. You can try oil-pulling. The point here is to remove some bacteria from your mouth.

About brushing. There's different hardness in toothbrushes. If you're using hard, try medium. If you're using medium, try soft. If you're using soft, try baby toothbrush. If no toothbrush works for you, try a wet cloth, or your finger. Try using toothpicks to remove the remains of food and then use mouthwash.

If the storebought mouthwash doesn't do with you, make it yourself. There's recipes online with essential oils (optional, but maybe there's one you might like), baking soda and water. (I don't recommend using lemon juice, it might damage your enamel.)

My friend just told me I should mention dental floss. I personally hate it, but it might be useful to some of you. It's probably more effective than toothpicks. They also comes mounted on these little plastic sticks if you struggle with the thread alone.

8. Chair

No, really, you have the right to sit down during washing. Buy a shower chair. Put a bench on your bathtub instead of struggling to stand up. Put a chair in front of the sink to sit when you brush your teeth.

You don't have to be physically disabled to use a chair to wash. And if you're disabled there's still no shame. Standing up can be boring, it can be painful, it can be tiring. So sit. You are allowed.

And if you prefer standing, do. You can pace. You can dance. You can do gymnastics. (Just be careful if you're brushing your teeth, okay. Or if you're in the shower. Don't hurt yourself.)

9. Music

If you don't have a buddy to talk to you, music or even podcasts, anything to listen to, can be a nice way to help. They makes the experience more enjoyable. They keeps your head away from the bad sensory experience or the awareness of your own body.

I also find using the same playlist useful to keep track of the time I've been spending in the shower. I even time the steps on the tracklist, I know I washed that part of my body for long enough if that song is over, I need to do the next step.

Also, for me me music is part of the ritual. It helps me to get in the right mind, it motivates me, it makes the routine.

10. Multi-purpose products.

I've seen all those beauty posts about "layering". It's nice if you have the energy and the time, but no, it's not for me.

I hate moisturising creams. I really do. They smells funny, they feels gross and sticky, and it takes forever to apply. It's an unnecessary step for me. But I have dry skin (at least on my body). The easy solution is to use surgras soap or surgras shower gel. (Not just the "moisturising" soap, that won't hydrate as well.)

I don't just remove the unpleasant experience of moisturiser, I remove a step. I save energy.

Also, multi-purpose products help with organisation, there's less things to think about. There's less risk of taking the wrong bottle because you're too headfogged. Less chance of chaos in the bathroom.

I personally can't do that for everything. I'd like to have one soap for everything, but my body skin and my face skin and my private parts and my hair all need different stuffs. But I do try to keep things to a minimum, because the number of products can be quickly overwhelming. So try to balance your sensory needs with your organisation problem.

(Also, if like me you hate the feeling of moisturiser, aloe vera gel is great. It is a bit sticky, but in a different way than cream. I personally prefer that one. There's also the option of oil, there's different kinds for different skin types, even for oily skin.)

11. Japaneses know best: the bidet.

This one might sounds strange for some folx. Where I live, bidets used to be extremely common but they are disappearing. We used to have a bidet next to the toilets in our homes. Japanese toilets have a built-in bidet but they are expensive. There is a cheaper (but still not cheap) alternative. You can buy a bidet toilet seat attachment to put on your own toilets.

Why am I telling you about bidet? Because when you struggle to wash regularly, bidets are incredibly useful.

Toilet paper is highly unhygienic. Wet toilet paper is a bit better. Bidets, that spray a jet of water on your privates, clean so much better.

And they are easy and quick to use. You just press a button and you are clean.

If you have a vagina, it's even more important, because it lowers significantly the risks of getting UTI and the likes.

If you can afford it, I recommend it.

12. The hat, or "well, f*ck it"

You can fail to wash in time for whatever obligation you have. That's okay.

Just use the card "camouflage".

Greasy hair? If they are long, brush them and tie them tightly, and put on a fashionable hat. Or you favorite, silly, hat. Or just a random hat that your aunt gave you (you know the one, you wondered for three weeks if you smiled enough when you received the gift because you didn't want to offend her). Scarfs are nice too.

Other idea to hide greasy hair? A wig. They are higher maintenance, but they are good to have for occasions where you have to look a bit better or if you can't wear a hat for whatever reason.

About odors... Well you know the trick of deodorants and perfume. Not what I recommend, at least not alone. For once not everyone can stand their smell. Also, they aren't that great to succeed at masking odors. If you can, use wipes to clean your armpits (also the underbreasts if you have them) and the neck and chest area. It might not remove all the odors but it'll help and with some deodorant if you can stand it, you should be good.

About deodorant: you can use a dollop of moisturiser (yes, I know I said I hate them, but listen), it will help to stop the formation of odors but the fragrance is usually mild or absent. It's also less harsh than the usual deodorant. You only need a small amount for it to work. You just need to clean before (wipes should be enough)

13. Don't stew in your dirty clothes.

Try to change your clothes often even if you don't wash. Especially your underwears.

I know it might sound counterintuitive to wear clean clothes when your skin is dirty, but staying in old clothes is like wearing a petri dish. By keeping the same clothes on you, you also keep the bacterias that live on it and your body.

It's especially bad in some areas, like your private parts, your feet and your armpits.

If you live alone, or if you live with someone who don't care, don't put clothes on at all. You'll just stew in your bacterial crock pot otherwise.

Staying naked also has the upside of reducing the amount of laundry you have to do.

14. Use your strengths.

Sometimes it's as simple as using your other hand because your dominant one is achy.

Sometimes it's listening to a podcast about your special interest.

You're an artist? Put a whiteboard in the shower. Or, I don't know, draw your body, laminate the drawing, and color the parts you have already washed with a dry erase marker.

Your thing is to make lists of animals of Paraguay? Recite them alphabetically and make a song with them while you brush your teeth and wash your face and clip you nails.

Dancers here? Each movement you make is part of a choreography.

15. Aftercare.

Hygiene is immensely stressful and energy consuming. You don't just deserve a reward, you need aftercare.

It's okay to take a nap. It's okay to need to engage with your special interest. It's okay to need a hug. It's okay to want to be alone. It's okay to feel bad too. Have a cry. Be moody. Don't be ashamed of what you feel. Of course it's better if you manage to avoid these emotions. But it's okay if you have them.

And give yourself a little treat. Have a cup of your favorite tea. Put a shiny sticker in your "things I've done good today" diary. Cuddle with your pet. Read the Swedish dictionary.

Drink a glass of water and eat something.

Also, if you have chronic pain, like I do, take your meds. (My joints are always a bit achy after standing too long, or my shoulder are stiff after washing my hair)

Write an essay about why keeping up with your hygiene is a pain.

Do what you want and do what you need.

16. Shame has no place in the bathroom.

If you've read my previous post, you know what I mean.

I've said it in this post, it's okay to struggle, to not be perfect, or as perfect as neurotypicals and able-bodied people say we should be. Their criterias are bullcrap.

Shame won't help you to keep up to these unachievable standards. They'll just undermine you.

Also, it's okay if some of what I've said here seems unachievable also. I shared what helps me and some of my friends, but your needs might be different and that's totally okay. Maybe someone will make a post with tips that'll help more? I hope so.

Anyway, you do what you can and you congratulate yourself for it. Every step is an achievement worth of praise.

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memory-and-sky · 5 months

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hobie x male reader """""""""dating"""""""" hcs?

okay this is something i can work on and get done relatively quickly. THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON! to everyone who’s sent in asks for fics, they are being worked on, i swear🙏 hope you like this though!

word count: i dunno, it’s a good chunk of headcanons

containing: explicit mention of homophobia, brief description of injury via fighting, small small small sexual reference, hobie brown x m!reader, could be cis or trans but i wrote this with cis males in mind

the rest of the headcanons are under the cut!

“dating” headcanons

hobie brown x male!reader

since Hobie lives in the 70s in Britain, gay rights weren’t really…. y’know, the best.

for your safety and his, the most he’d do in public is holding your hand. and even that was a big sign of rebellion. holding hands with a person of the same sex? how scandalous!

anyway, while holding your hand, he’d love to put both your hands in his pocket, especially if you run cold (like me :P).

he’d totally be the type to rub his thumb slowly on your palm, too.

Hobie knows a lot of people, especially in the queer and punk scenes. he gets invited to a lot of house parties, and feels safer to put your relationship on display more then, but he’s definitely not over the top with it.

a simple arm over the shoulder, around your waist, or a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, though he doesn’t need PDA to show your relationship off.

“Have ya seen this new patch on the ol’ battle jacket? Or this pin? Yeah, my lovely boyfriend made ‘em fo’ me. Gorgeous, innit?” [speaking to a random friend]

“Have ya had the pleasure of meetin’ my boyfriend yet?”

“I thought you said you hated labels…?”

“Mmh, (y/n)’s influential like tha’. Clearly ya haven’t met ‘em.” He’d say, undoubtedly with a smirk plastered on his face.

i really don’t think Hobie would get particularly jealous over you.

of course he loves you with all his little gay heart, but he doesn’t feel insecure or get upset at you or anything if you talk (or flirt) with another guy (as long as you communicate). if anyone is flirting with you and you seem really disinterested, he’ll totally intervene.

maybe hold you in a way that makes it clear you’re together, or explicitly tell the dude that you’re not interested.

but he doesn’t like treating you like an object he ‘owns’ at all, it’s why he’s pretty hesitant to slap the ‘boyfriend’ label down on your relationship right away.

and the 70s were a sexual revolution! revolting against gender norms and relationship norms, stuff like that.

if anybody ever dared ask you two ‘so who’s the man and the woman in the relationship?’ or ‘who’s the top and who’s the bottom?’ Hobie would be dreadfully disgusted and educate them immediately.

speaking of sexual revolution and whatnot, Hobie would be down for polyamory if you were.

you two have a very good line of communication, and if you wanted to open your relationship and communicated that to him, he’d be fine with it.

you’re so great, he gets how other guys might fall in love with you, too.

Hobie would give the best gifts, try and change my mind. whether it’s for your anniversary, birthday, or just a random gift, they’re always handmade.

maybe he’ll make you a piece of clothing like a shirt, hand-pick a bouquet for you, or even customizing/fixing one of your old clothing pieces with a bit of added Hobie flair.

Even small things, like a charm, pin, or patch have so much love put into them because he loves you!

touching on my first point again, homophobia was very present outside of the queer/punk scene, even in some aspects of the punk community he didn’t feel welcome at all.

usually, he’d tell people where to shove their opinion, but sometimes he’d feel completely unsafe to be himself around anyone.

yeah, he’s spider-man, but he’s also a very young adult. he could fight people, and he definitely used to, but he hated coming home to you being worried sick about all the horrible bruises, cuts, and scrapes on him.

back to the lighthearted stuff, he’s definitely the type of guy to cook for you.

doesn’t matter what meal it is, he’s gonna make it for you if he has the chance to. and he actually makes good food, despite living in Britain his whole life.

if you’ve got issues with trying new foods, his place will always be stocked full with your safe foods no matter what.

you’ll eat together, and he’ll gaze dreamily at you, wondering how he ever got so lucky to land such a stellar guy like you.

this man loves coming home after a long day, popping in a VCR for a movie of some sort (TV could be in your bedroom or living room, doesn’t matter), and just cuddling with you.

he doesn’t mind being either the big spoon or little spoon, but tends to like being big spoon cause he likes holding you close to him so much.

he’s very scrawny, but doesn’t mean he won’t love you all the same, and hold you tight.

one more thing, Hobie loves you above all else. he’ll protect you and fight for you anytime you need. when it comes to his partners, he does not play around!!

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coolprettyleo · 1 month

Text

talk of the town - starlight au

tw: lowkey cringe. if ur not into it lmk lowk...

wc: 1.4k

will smith x influencer/ d'amelio sister au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

dylan couldn't believe the shit day she was having. she had woken up late and missed her pilates class, then she spilt coffee all over her laptop, and right now she was fifteen minutes late to her music class. it was her first ever day of college too.

even though she was having a horrible day, she was still dressed cute. she decided she wanted to start taking her school more seriously. and that meant actually going to class.

the thing about dylan though is that she didn't need school. she had over one hundred million followers on all platforms. she was what someone would call an influencer.

influencers usually didn't continue with school if they didn't need to so when dylan decided to still attend college it was a shock to a lot of people; including her family.

her family were all also influencers and didn't decide to attend college; rather deciding to work on their brand instead. a brand that dylan opted out of, she had decided to enter marketing at boston college.

she entered her music class to find that there was no less than twenty five students inside. thats what happens when you attend a private college! dylans strategy her whole life was to always sit in the back of classes. (it was easier to skip class and just lie to the professor and say you were there)

there was one seat left where three other boys sat. she set her stuff down. the boys giving her an odd look, not thinking anyone was going to take that last seat between them or probably trying to figure out why the hell she looked so familiar. dylan got that look often.

the professor though was deep in lecture about their upcoming assignment and dylan was too busy trying to find a top for her upcoming brand dinner in New York. she was pulled out of her own little world when the professor noticed she was not listening and had missed the introduction part of class and decided to call her out on it.

she felt a tap from the boy next to her getting her attention because it seemed the professor had been calling her.

"oh my gosh im so sorry what" she said removing an AirPod and sheepishly looking at the class who all seemed to be either smiling at her or giving her dirty looks.

"since you decided to grace us with your presence introduce yourself please" she said pointing to a slide that stated what exactly to say.

"uhm... im dylan. im from connecticut but I've been living in LA for the past four years, and im a marketing major" she said awkwardly feeling like everyone was judging her.

"alright thank you miss dylan. I want to see the title slide of the assignment done before I dismiss you guys" she said.

the three boys she sat with seemed to be life long friends and she was feeling a bit left out. she had zoned them out till she heard them whispering to each other.

"ask her"

"no thats weird"

"ill ask"

"your tiktok famous huh"

she looked up to a freckled boy her while the dark haired boy giggled and the blonde haired boy cringed.

"uhm, yeah... I guess" she said awkwardly. she really didn't know what to say.

"nice" he said going back to working on his assignment.

she smiled awkwardly and looked at the other two boys. who looked like they were cringing about their friends actions. the dark haired boy seemed to let it go and work on his assignment while the blonde one spoke up.

"im sorry about him, ryan doesn't know how to talk to girls"

"yes I do! if I didn't how would I of pulled frankie" ryan says.

"she basically pulled you" gabe quipped back.

dylan just giggled along to their battering. they seemed funny.

"he's fine. a lot of people don't realize its me in real life but instead just stare at me trying to figure out why I look so familiar, and thats creepier to me"

"well we knew it was you because everyones been saying you go here" ryan told her.

oh god it was a hot topic?

"people talk about it?" she said grossed out.

"yeah, but like no one ever sees you for some reason"

"I did online classes and lived in LA last semester" she told them. it was true, her family was filming their Hulu show and it didnt make sense for her to leave mid-way through filming.

"do you live on campus?" the blonde one asked her again. he seemed like the quiet and calmer one of the three boys.

hes hot

"no, I live in beacon hill, the city"

"why didnt you dorm" gabe nosily asked.

"I didn't think it would be too fun to share an apartment with random girls at first but now I regret it, because I have no friends here" she honestly told them.

"oh my god! my girlfriend has no friends!" ryan said loudly. which made will, gabe, and the people around them to laugh.

"im telling her you said that" will smiled mischievously at him.

"shutup smitty. we have a game tonight and she usually sits alone or with my parents but they're not coming tonight so she'd probably like the company!" ryan said. he was honestly just trying to do a nice thing. he knew frankie struggled with the fact she had no girl friends; even though she said it was fine, and dylan seemed nice.

"game?" Dylan said confused.

"oh ya! we play hockey" the freckled boy answered.

"oh thats cool!" dylan said. she had attended a couple games recently due to the fact her sister was dating an NHL player.

"im will, thats gabe, and ryan" the blonde one said pointing the dark haired boy and the freckled one.

"im dylan. and what's your girlfriends number, id be down to go" she said to the freckled one.

"here" he said writing it down and handing her a crumpled paper.

"her names frankie by the way"

"okay, ill text her after class" she said smiling getting back to work.

"what's your major?" will asked her. he didn't want the conversation to end for some reason. she was lowkey his celebrity crush since he was like fourteen and they first started getting famous.

"marketing. you?"

"communications"

"your quite the communicator then" she said.

oh my gosh dylan you sound pathetic what the hell even is a communicator?

what didnt help was that will looked clueless and Ryan and gabe seemed to be biting back a smile acting like they weren't listening.

"im sorry?"

"like, you like communications- like the major" dylan said, trying to save herself but digging an even deeper and awkwarder hole, turning as red as a tomato.

"uhm ya, I didn't really know what major to pick coming in" he said smiling at her. a smile that dylan liked to see.

"well what do you want to be?"

"a hockey player."

"oh... too bad hockey isn't a major huh" she said chuckling at her own joke while ryan and gabe gave her funny looks except will of course, who was laughing at the joke like it was the funniest thing ever said. (thats what your supposed to do when your crush tells a joke)

"and what do you want to be"

"honestly, I dont know. I just want to have the degree so I can have more of a say in the brands I deal with, and all that"

"so you want the knowledge" gabe said, since he's been listening.

"yeah, basically" she said. making eye contact with will who looked to be studying her a bit.

he knew she wanted to say more but seemed to be putting up a wall which was understandable seeing as she just met these boys twenty mins ago.

"well im all done." she said closing up her laptop and standing up.

"maybe ill see you guys later!" she said waving to them.

"look for 6" will said to her.

"six what?" she said confused.

"what?" he said equally confused now

"six of what" she said cluelessly.

"like the number six" he said smiling awkwardly.

"oh!! omg I knew that! okay!" she said grabbing her bag and waving bye to them.

gabe and ryan gave each other a knowing look before immediately chirping will.

"you are such a flirt"

"that was painful"

"and he said I dont know how to talk to girls"

"shutup guys" he said packing his stuff away before leaving. hoping to see her in the stands tonight. her personality was even cuter.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

im so sorry for not uploading! I just keep overthinking everything so I end up just deleting it! but thats just a me problem lol. but I hope u guys like this au. I plan to the it all together.

#nhl imagine #ryan leonard #gabe perreault #nhl imagines #will smith hockey #bc hockey #hockey fic #will x dylan!!#will smith x reader #gabe perreault x reader #ryan leonard x reader

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alittlebitofloveliness · 11 days

Note

Could you do some modern day Soda headcanons please? I love him so much and I love your blog so much soooooo….

Ok so soda is tricky for me to write but I tried my best!!!

Modern Au Sodapop Headcanons

-Drinks every single energy drink imaginable. Rockstar? Like its water. Prime? For the plot. 5 hour energy? He’ll down it in five seconds. Darry is HORRIFIED.

-Is pretty enough he’s one of those people who becomes moderately famous on TikTok without having to really do much. His followers notice he’s always talking to someone off camera, and they’re desperate to find out who it is, but Soda only ever responds to comments with ‘oh that’s just Stevie, he doesn’t like TikTok’.

-Soda’s followers have a lot of theories about this ‘Stevie’. Soda is weirdly tight lipped about him, despite the fact he often breaks off mid rant in videos to talk to him. There’s also the fact that the rest of the gang is often around/in the background of videos, but the mysterious ‘Stevie’ never appears. (okok I’ll stop here before this becomes a Stevepop social media au)

-Regularly forgets to take his ADHD meds and Darry often has to remind him

-Would either have a hockey flow or a mullet (whatever y’all think, personally I think modern Soda with a hockey flow tracks with his character)

-One of those people who loves horror movies but is also completely terrified of even the dumbest ones and has to sleep with the lights on for weeks afterwards. Steve makes fun of him for it, but will also stay up on the phone with him if Soda watches one by himself and freaks himself out

-Has a million fidget spinners because they actually help him focus on stuff when he needs to

-Soda in modern AU wouldn’t call Ponyboy ‘kid brother’ as a nickname (don’t get me wrong, I love it but Ive never heard it used irl). Instead, I think him and Darry (and thus the rest of the gang) refer to Pony as ‘shrimp’ and Ponyboy absolutely hates it “where’s the shrimp” “he’s has track practice ‘till four, you of all people should know that Dar” (brought to you by me and my interactions with my own little brothers)

-The whole gang is super into video games, but Soda is kind of shit at them and lowkey grumpy about it

-Every teacher he’s ever had has done that thing where they expect him to be exactly like his older sibling, and therefore expect him to be a model student like Darry, and every time they are proven entirely wrong. By the time the same teachers see Ponyboy’s name on their class lists they’re terrified of what to expect

-He definitely had that horrible middle school boy stage where he just reeked of axe body spray and BO before he figured out proper hygiene

-Every two weeks him and Steve end up doing some sort of YouTube deep dive where they end up being convinced of some sort of wild conspiracy theory that Ponyboy and sometimes Darry have to spend three hours talking them out of

-Uses far too many emojis in texts

-He had a pet hamster once and you know that thing died in the most horrendous way imaginable. Two-bit probably farted into the cage at one point as a joke and the poor thing asphyxiated to death or some shit like that

-He’s that kid in group projects who does nothing and tanks the presentation for everyone by mispronouncing half the words on the slides some other group member made for him

-Him and Steve are so inseparable that when they’re not together people will be like ‘where’s your boyfriend’ and he just answers without thinking before flushing really hard and sputtering a bit.

-One of those people that casually catches snakes with his bare hands. Steve HATES it and Ponyboy is TERRIFIED of snakes so he gets in trouble with Darry if he does it too often or brings them near the house

#the outsiders #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #darry curtis #two bit mathews #headcanon #stevepop #sodapop x steve

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for going off on a tattoo artist for giving me the wrong mandarin letters?

Context matters a lot here. I (23ftm) recently lost my partner to cancer. They were the love of my life and I dropped everything for them- I moved states away from my family so that they could be more comfortable in a dryer climate, I made sure to be there for them through thick and thin- the works. My family, though sad, were okay with it since I had never been so passionate about anything before I met them. Losing them has been nothing short of miserable.

They were Chinese and had a very strong connection to their language and culture, so I wanted to get a tattoo that translated to "My angel, my love" with "my angel" being on the top and "my love" being on the bottom onto my arm. I wasn't able to learn any dialects from them while they were alive since things had been so busy, but I thought maybe at least I could start with this.

So, I went to a local tattoo parlor that had a Chinese tattoo artist (I hope it isn't racist to assume, I've heard him speaking in Mandarin on the phone) and asked to get the translation tattooed. He seemed genuine and we got to work with choosing a font, the right location, and scheduling an appointment. It was very professional and I was really glad that it had gone smoothly since if it hadn't, I'd probably just give up entirely.

A week passes and I get my tattoo. A bit after as we're talking about it, I mention that I got it to commemorate my late partner, whom like I said I consider to be the light of my life. When I mentioned that, he sort of paused and had this look on his face, like when you realize you forgot something really important. He shook it off though and we got back to talking, but things seemed obviously more awkward now.

When I went home I sent a picture of it to my partner's family, and immediately they picked up that something was wrong. They didn't tell me what it had actually translated to, but it was apparently very inappropriate and disrespectful.

Needless to say I was breaking down. My partner had died, I was struggling with depression and fatigue from handling a lot of the funeral procedures, and overall that had been the straw that broke the camel's back. This is where I may be the asshole. I drove back to the parlor shop and found my tattoo artist, and I didn't get physical, but I had definitely wanted to. I was yelling at him, screaming about how he was a horrible shitty person, the works. He argued back that I should have at least given him a reason for the tattoo, since he gets white people coming in all the time asking for dumb stuff, but I shot back that he could have at least told me what he had done when I did reveal why I got the tattoo.

Again, I didn't get physical, but they did threaten to call the cops on me if I didn't leave since I wss making a scene, so I left and later emailed that I had at the very least wanted a refund, since they didn't even give me the tattoo I wanted. I still haven't gotten a response yet.

My family (both biological and in-laws) are very conflicted over this. Some of them think that I could have dealt with it a lot better, while others think I should have threatened them with a lawsuit (obviously there's inbetween opinions but those are the main two extremes). I can't afford a lawsuit considering I'm already dealing with the funeral funds like I said, but I don't know. I don't even know if yelling at the guy made me feel better or worse- it was an in-the-moment response to be sure.

So, with more context, AITA for yelling at the tattoo artist who gave me an inappropriate tattoo instead of the one I really wanted?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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gmanwhore · 12 days

Text

The inhabitants of Sunshine Terrace/Apartment Block 5598: Personal notes by The dOOrman! You know. The doorman. Of Sunshine Terrace.

Roman Stilinsky: Pleasant. Like no real stuff for him. We rarely ever talk. I mean, like. We talk enough for me to know him I guess? He hates the taste of black tea and he likes jazz. That’s all I really know.

Lois Stilinsky: She’s a bit of a gossip, and is probably the best at makeup in the whole apartment! She’s not a huge fan of having to keep her looks the same all the time. She loves the smell of grapefruit and her favorite perfume smells like it.

Robertsky Peachman: He doesn’t talk much! He’s not stupid like some people think, he’s just like that. He’s a hard worker and I can respect that. He can’t stand loud noises.

Albertsky Peachman: He can be just a bit rude, but it’s ok. It’s not often. He just wants to get home. I just don’t think he likes people all that much. He always shuts the door to the front lobby behind him even if it closes on its own.

Angus Ciprianni: I don’t have mush to say anything but he is so fake. He also throws a lot of parties to literally everyone’s annoyance. Especially me! His shoelaces are fake, he can’t tie them and he hates birds.

Selenne and Elenois Sverchtz: They are the faces of the “sameness is beauty” movement, a new trend encouraging people to stick to particular outfits and looks and not change them. As twins they were deemed the perfect candidates for this. They are a bit uncanny as they do in fact. Just act like the same person just reflected in a mirror. They also have cats. Two. They are twins. They are pleasant to be around, but tend to leave other people out of their inside jokes. One of their jokes is laughing at palimdromes.

Arnold Schmicht: He used to be a horror writer before. Ten years ago. He is not trying horror writer anymore, he tends towards more domestic pieces generally inspired by our neighbours. I’ve read a few of his books, both old and recent. I find his new pieces also have a certain sense of dread built into them, like he wants so desperately to explore those darer topics again. You also wouldn’t clock him as a horror writer! He loves jokes, and is a very bright, talkative man. He’s also just great to hang out with. He loves being asked about his latest project, and he likes eating lemons like oranges.

Gloria Schmict: She isn’t as done with everything as she looks! She’s just usually really tired after a long day of helping people at the bank. She has quite the dry sense of humour, but that doesn’t mean she’s not fun to talk to! She’s one of the most observant of my neighbours, which also makes her slightly paranoid. I definitely get it, though. We have a sort of solidarity I think. She’s afraid of spiders, but she likes snakes. Her favorite colour is yellow.

Izaack Gauss: Despite his general air, he’s actually really easy to talk to. While I’m not close with him at all I get why people like him. He swears by using Gerome’s Hair Gel, it’s the only brand he uses. He also can’t stand the taste of mint unless it’s mixed in with something.

Margarette Bubbles: Her favorite things to sew are dresses, and she actually specialises in bridesmaid’s dresses though she does do general repairs for people. She always has her bag of sewing materials on hand, and has a great eye for colour. She actually can’t really see out of her lazy eye, though she has horrible depth perception because of it. She’s a gossip QUEEN and knows quite a bit. Her house is really comfortable, and she has a lot of hand-sewn dog stuffed animals there since she loves dogs but can’t have them. She has a bias for St. Brenards. She makes the BEST turnovers I have ever eaten and she refuses to tell me her secret to them. Her favorite colours are burnt orange and royal purple, and she loves the smell of pine.

Nacha Mikaelys: She almost always has something sticking out her hair, things just get tangled there! She says she’s been meaning to cut her hair for a while but she’s worried about getting mistaken for a doppleganger so she’s waiting until we have to get new ids. She’s really loud, but in a good way! She wears jewlery usually, she says she has a little bag for her earrings and bracelets for when she’s cooking. She owns a chef hat for home but doesn’t wear one at work. She collects her daughter’s broken slinkies and keeps them in her purse and she has a locket she refuses to tall me what’s in. She loves banana bread and her favorite animals are pigeons. She also has lovespoons hanging up in her apartment!

Anastacha Mikaelys: She doesn’t really like people, she gets overwhelmed easily in social situations so she avoids them. She likes slinkies, and the smell of normal household soap. She actually has a huge slinky collection, but she only lets you see them or play with them if she trusts you. She wants a hamster, and Nacha told me not to tell her but Nacha is saving up to suprise her.

Mia Stone: She doesn’t believe fully in the dopplegangers and can be quite rude when coming through! She almost always “forgets” to tell me when she leaves so I can’t add her to my list. She is curt and to the point when she talks, and tends to overexplain things. Then again she works with small kids so I can let that slide. She knows how to tango.

Dr. W. Afton: He also thinks having a doorman is stupid, but he’s a bit ruder. He doesn’t really say hello to me and tends to turn his whole body to the door when I say he’s cleared to go. I think he doesn’t like the wait. His favorite colour is olive green.

Francis Mosses: He isn’t all that interesting. He doesn’t hate his job, but he doesn’t like it. He jokes about just sleeping in his car a lot, and sometimes he just. Randomly breaks into scared ranting about our situation. He tends to stay alone, and when I went over to his house once it was. Kinda depressing, it didn’t feel like he actually lived there at all. He likes ribbons and collects them off the street, and he says his favorite colour is scarlet.

Steven Rudboys: He’s much less serious than he comes off. He speaks quietly and mumbles a lot, but he gets loud when he’s excited. He has a passion for the history of planes, but not really of flying. He only really became a pilot because he struggles with doing matinence on the planes. He likes puns, and when he realizes he has an in he lights up a bit. He likes cats and birds, and he’s really good at making a duck call.

Mclooy Rudboys: He called me “sweetheart” once and I tried blowing him up with my mind. He makes jokes about his son possibly not being his??? He’s divorced at least three times and told me “he’s lost count” and apparently he fought in World War 2 and retired from being a pilot after that. He likes eagles and only smokes cigars.

Alf Cappuccin: He’s sort of hard of hearing and tends to not like. Understand what I’m saying so I have to use cards so he gets what I’m saying. He’s a few years younger than McClooy. He likes his porridge with brown sugar and raspberries and he likes the smell of brown paper bags.

Rafttellyn Cappuccin: Rafttellyn tends to be quite nervous and timid, she doesn’t really talk much. She has the highest voice by far. She dyes her hair, it’s actually grey but she gets a bit nervous about it. She loves apples and always has them in a wooden bowl on her table. Her perfume smells like old roses.

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creekfiend · 6 months

Note

Hey, do you have family in Israel? Do you know whether they are alright?

sure, I do. in my experience most American Jews have family in Israel. When my family left their village in what is now Belarus, half of those leaving came to the US and half went to Palestine. (and those who remained were killed and that village does not exist anymore) I am not in close contact with the Israeli side but I expect I would have heard something if any of them had been hurt. Josh has much closer Israeli family as his brother Yoav and nieces/nephews all live there but they are also fine to my knowledge.

I appreciate the check in, but I will be perfectly honest with you that while it hurts my heart immensely that so many Israeli civilians have been killed, right now I am primarily concerned about the millions of people in Gaza without electricity or running water who have been ordered to evacuate or get exploded but who have nowhere to go. I am very, VERY concerned about the statements being made by the garbage fascists in control of the Israeli government right now openly stating their genocidal intentions on a scale that we haven't previously seen.

we are all triggered and traumatized as hell about everything, and by we I mean Jews, and I think it's understandable for us to feel that way. but I also am struggling a lot with the degree to which many of my fellow American Jews are making this ABOUT our big feelings of fear and anxiety. I understand that anticipating things becoming More Dangerous is something all Jews have had to do constantly forever. I understand that "position of relative privilege" is something that's extremely conditional for Jews and something that can be taken away at the drop of a hat. but... I don't know. I've been trying to think of anything coherent or helpful in any way to say for the past several days and coming up short. it's a nightmare. But it would be disingenuous to deny that it's a nightmare for me in ways that are removed pretty significantly from the ways in which it is a nightmare for other people.

my family is fine. I understand and empathize with the sentiments of "but what if my family becomes NOT fine?" especially when this is the largest mass killing of Jewish civilians since... well. and I am also enraged and terrified by the comfort with which many leftist gentiles seem to be practically celebrating those deaths. but I'm really preoccupied by the fact that millions of people and their families in Gaza are Not Fine in a huge and terrible way right now as we speak. this is not to say that it is a contest, but if I am doing triage, it is very clear to me whose leg is more broken right now. While acknowledging, again, that we are in a scary place globally regarding antisemitism.

Angry Jew on fb has been posting a lot of stuff that really speaks to how I am feeling right now. devastated by the horrible ways some of my people have been killed, and devastated also that inexcusable violence is being done, essentially, in my name. I hate to talk about this publicly because I also fucking wish American gentiles would kind of shut up about it a lot of the time, to be honest. and I hate feeling like I am giving anyone ammunition in their weird ideological internet fights about having The More Correct Opinion in the hypothetical trolley problem-ass situation that so many of them act like this is. the refusal to learn about any specifics of the situation in favor of just deciding it must be exactly like some other unrelated geopolitical issue that they feel they have a better handle on, and then just... overwriting the reality of the situation so that it matches up with what they are comfortable imagining in their heads. I have had to unfollow and block a lot of people lately.

I mostly talk to my safe Jewish and Muslim friends about this. and select few safe non-muslim gentiles.

Right now I am grieving for many reasons. Since you asked me about my personal connection I will tell you the main things I remember learning and feeling about this growing up. I've never been to Israel. Not close enough to my family there to visit, although my dad did, & never comfortable with programs like Birthright. I remember in the 90s my dad, who was an administrator at the school of Public Health at the local university, was helping put together programs that would bring Israeli and Palestinian universities and public health groups together to work on universal public health issues like helping ppl stop smoking, vaccination, etc. it was going really well at the time. he was going over there a few times a year to coordinate with the people running the programs there. he was really optimistic about it, & several other similar programs. this was back when Yasser Arafat and Yitzak Rabin/Shimon Peres were having a lot of talks that were seemingly productive and hopeful. like obviously it was hardly a golden age but it seemed like maybe Israel was moving away from violence. and then 9/11 happened and everything exploded and all the little programs simply disappeared and my dad never went back to work with anyone. and then fucjing... Netanyahu. and it seems like since then everything only gets worse and worse and further and further from anything other than horrible violence, and that devastates me

In high school I took a Mideast Civ class and one of my fellow students was a kid whose parents had been expelled from Palestine during the war and fled to America. what I remember being struck by when he talked about this was how his family's story was so similar to my family's story and a deep sense of shame and anger that people who had undergone what my family had could then make his family undergo the same thing. That's still a pretty big part of how I feel. I don't accept that that kid's experience was necessary to keep me or my family safe.

I'm just a guy. I try my best to learn as much as I can and listen to a large variety of people connected to this so I can have a more holistic view of things. I'm not making this post rebloggable for obvious reasons but since it's here on my blog, for anyone reading who is also feeling despair, here's some organizations that are good to follow & support if you are able (non-exhaustive obviously)

synagoguesrising.org Synagogues Rising is a coalition of leftist synagogues in the US who advocate for Palestinian liberation and who are currently begging the US government to work to deescalate military violence and provide humanitarian aid to people in Gaza

refuser.org Refusers Solidarity Network is a group advocating for Israelis who refuse to serve in the military as conscientious objectors

map.org.uk Medical Aid for Palestinians living under occupation & as refugees

Genuinely, thanks for asking about my family. if you also have family in the area, I hope they are also alright.

I want everyone to be alright. I know this is a lot of big baby feelings and no particular political ideologies or solutions and that's because I'm just one fucking Jew and I'm not an activist or a revolutionary and I kind of feel a bit like other online people could stand to admit more often that they're also just some guy and also not activists or revolutionaries. I sure have beliefs and I sure feel strongly about them, but man, right now I just want to express grief & anger & worry about how awful this government is and how many people they're going to kill and how much I wish it was not happening

my family is Ok.

eta: I'm reading this back and realizing that as a response to this ask it makes it sound like I'm saying that inquiring about the well-being of someone's Israeli relatives is like, inherently devaluing the well-being of other ppl and I very much am not saying that and do not believe that. I'm just enormously emotionally dysregulated and this got me kind of stream of consciousness about all of the things I have been chasing around in my brain about this.

#jewish #long post #israel palestine tag

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miloformula123fan · 20 days

Text

okay like 2 months ago, I put out this moodboard, and @evans-dejong replied to it, and im gonna be honest that kind of inspired this whole fic

carlos sainz x male!royal!reader

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

carlos sainz x royal!reader

2022 Spanish Grand Prix

“AND George Russell has locked up at the final chicane and Carlos Sainz sails on through BRINGING HIM ONTO THE PODIUM OF HIS HOME RACE ON THE LAST LAP OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX. AND WHAT A RACE THAT WAS. Max Verstappen crossed the finish line first, followed by his teammate Sergio Perez, and rounding out the podium we have Carlos Sainz for ferrari.”

It had been a hard race, Carlos spinning in the first 8 laps. But he’d done a very good recovery drive, getting up to the podium.

Y/N couldn’t help but clap his hands as he saw a ferrari and a spanish driver on the podium from the back of the Ferrari garage. He saw himself on the screens, and flashed a winning smile. His mum looked at him with exasperated fondness as he hopped around waiting for the drivers to get on the podium, so she could hand the trophies over. He’d been looking forward to it all weekend, the previous highlight being handing off the pole position award to the other ferrari driver.

“And now to present the trophies to the drivers on the podium, we have Crown Prince Y/N, representing the Spanish Royal Family.”

Y/N could almost feel his hands shaking as he picked up the 3rd place trophy and prepared to hand it over. He ran himself through what he was supposed to do

‘Pick up the trophy, display it to the cameras, don’t drop it, first to the person closest, they’re 3rd place, hopefully you’ve picked up the correct trophy Y/N, then as you’re handing it over, shake their hand, congratulate the spaniard, pose for a photo handing over the trophy, and then walk back. Repeat for 2nd place, they’re the one furthest away, not a Spaniard, repeat for team, it’s the mechanic who looks hella awkward on the really small podium, and finally do it for 1st. Then get out of the way before they start spraying champagne.’

And it almost entirely went to plan. He had nearly kissed the Spanish driver on the podium, because damn he was hot. But otherwise it had gone to plan.

Well, until, while trying to get out of the way and completing his task, he had gotten sprayed on the back of his new shirt. Damn.

He heard the cheers and yelling stop as everyone realised that he had been hit. Y/N snickered in his head at the thought that people were scared of him, worried that because he’d been hit by some champagne, that everyone would be executed. Instead he laughed it off, grabbed Carlos’ bottle and took a chug before wandering off the podium, laughing at the ruined shirt. His mother chastised him and fussed over him as he walked away laughing.

The Spanish ferrari driver was hot, sue him.

---

2022 Silverstone

“AND IN HIS 150TH RACE, CARLOS SAINZ WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX. HIS FIRST VICTORY IN F1”

Y/N could hear the cheers, the announcement was a little blurred as he hugged Carlos O, Carlos’ cousin and manager, after waving the spanish flag through a gap in the fence, yelling and cheering over the noise of the engines. There wasn’t a lot of celebration in the garage, as Charles, who was contending for the championship, had had a horrible race, but who cared? Carlos had won, at least Red Bull hadn’t won, they were still contending for the championship.

“And what a day for Ferrari, but they won with the wrong car!” Ted shouted into his microphone as the celebrations kicked on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uhh, sorry to everyone at home we now have Crown Prince Y/N from the Spanish Royal Family. Now Your Royal Highness, what did you say?”

“Well first, my title is Prince of Asturias. Not this ‘Your Royal Highness’ bullshit that you’re trying to lower my status to…”

“Sorry, language for the kids at home.”

“Oh, says you, Ted Kravitz. Hi Kids, my name is Crown Prince Y/N, or the Prince of Asturias, and I’m going to give you a… what’s the word…unbiased view of the grand prix today. Charles and Max were struggling today. Then there was a safety car, and Carlos was given a better strategy. Now, keep in mind kids, this was because Charles was not having a great day. Then Carlos was once again screwed over by Ferrari strategists, however for once in his life he stood up for himself, and made himself a good strategy and won himself the race. His first race win, after 150 race starts. There is no wrong driver to win with for Ferrari, and Carlos deserved that win as much as Charles did. Thanks Tommy.”

“It’s Ted…”

Y/N waited in Carlos’ driver room for him to arrive back from the media. Carlos meanwhile had been told by his cousin that Y/N was waiting for him, and tried to pass off his impatience as excitement over the win. He had barely seen Y/N since the win, being celebrated with his team, but he had spotted him on Carlos O and Carlos Sr. shoulders, cheering with the other Ferrari engineers, and butchering his own national anthem, which was always fun to watch. But he hadn’t seen him properly, been able to hold him and scream and kiss him.

And he couldn’t wait for that.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the door of his driver room. He could sense Y/N behind that door, actually he could hear him, chatting to what he assumed were his younger sisters and parents.

He slowly opened the door, pushing it with his hips as his hands held his water bottle and his trophy.

He watched for a second, not wanting to disturb Y/N, especially if he was saying something royal that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Y/N was lying on his stomach on the massage bed, his feet hanging off the end as he had propped his phone up against the wall. His feet were kicked up in the air, swinging backwards and forwards, as his head, which he was holding up by his hands, was bopping side to side as he talked to his family.

“Yeah, so just waiting for him to finish his post race debriefs and media and then he’ll be here soon, and I’ll hang up then, I don't want to scare Leonor again. By the way, Leo, how’s Gavi going? Feel like the last I heard was from some media article about how he wanted to focus on football and didn’t want a girlfriend distracting him, but I'm sure you’ve managed to persuade him otherwise…”

While Y/N was teasing his younger sister, he was cut off by his (quite unmanly) screams as Carlos grabbed him from behind and hugged him to his chest, swinging him back and forth.

Once he had reassured both his family and the bodyguards who had burst into the room with their guns drawn that he was fine and Carlos had just scared him, he hung up the facetime call and snuggled in with Carlos on the small massage table, and admired the trophy.

“It’s pretty…” his hand hovered over all the details “like you mi amor.”

“...huh, most people would describe me as handsome rather than pretty, mi vida”

“Not me, you’re my pretty boy.”

---

Silverstone 2023

“Hello! You must be Lando!” Y/N walked towards the Mclaren boy and gave him a hug.

“You're the crown prince of Spain.”

“Wow, he’s observant eh Chilli?”

“Mate, i mean this in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage to bag the crown prince of spain?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how I managed to bag the most attractive f1 driver?”

“Have you seen Fernando?”

“Good point. The most attractive Spanish f1… no no, that doesn’t work. Uhhhh, the second most attractive F1 driver.”

“what?”

"nothing darling, good luck for your race Lando and nice to meet you!"

---

Singapore 2023

“AND RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL. GEORGE RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL AND CARLOS SAINZ IS GOING TO TAKE VICTORY FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AMAZING CIRCUMSTANCES. SO FAR THE ONLY NON RED BULL DRIVER TO WIN A RACE THIS YEAR”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” Y/N couldn’t help screaming through the ferrari garage as the entire ferrari garage erupted as Carlos crossed the line first. His bodyguards were clearly trying to reach him, but he didn’t care as he gave a massive hug to every mechanic and an even bigger one to Fred as he kept screaming his head off.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD YES! VAMOS YES!”

He was gonna lose it. Carlos had won a race. And this one for so many more reasons felt better than the Silverstone win. No disputes about team orders or who was the better driver.

Carlos had done it all on merit.

Once again he was hoisted up on the Carlos’ shoulders to horribly butcher his own national anthem. He could see his bodyguards trying to push through the throng of mechanics, but the mechanics were pushing back equally as hard. Well if his bodyguards couldn’t get through a crowd of overexcited mechanics, then maybe that was a sign he needed new bodyguards. First one’s who could get through a crowd when necessary, but also ones who understood that he could do what he wanted. He saw the cameras, flicking between the 2 of them singing to each other horribly, but he didn’t care. So what if these photos and videos were all over the tabloids tomorrow.

Tonight was their night.

And nothing could change that.

nothing.

---

Spain 2024

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

Except this time, he was standing with the spanish flag around his shoulders, on the P1 spot, instead of the P3 spot as he was 2 years ago. His smile was bigger, and the cheers were louder, especially with Fernando Alonso in P2.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

And after giving a constructors trophy to a confused team member, finally it was Carlos’ turn. Y/N smiled as he handed over the trophy, adoring the goofy grin on his face. He also hugged him, and Y/N only cringed slightly at the sweat that was now on his suit.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

He let out a very unroyal scream as he felt the cold champagne trickle down his back, turning around to the silence with Fernando having a cheeky grin on his face (this seems hella clunky). The rest of the paddock and the podium was frozen, as if worried that he was going to order Fernando’s execution. Instead, he held his hand out, as his mother passed him a bottle of champagne that he proceeded to spray straight in Fernando’s face.

And then as the champagne started to drain, Carlos leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips. First official show of affection, and as Carlos pulled away and flashed the cheeky grin at Y/N, he thought about how the royal PR people would be scrambling to confirm that yes, Carlos was courting the crown prince of Spain.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

---

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