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vinvantae · 7 months

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Unmasked

15/16

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Word count : 5.2k

Warning: poorly translated French (English translation at the end)

A/N : I feel terrible about how long it’s taken me to write this, the inspiration just hasn’t been with me for a little while. I hope you enjoy it regardless ❤️

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SC - With the weight of the world seemingly off her shoulders, y/n absolutely flew around the track today. It feels like for the first time in a while, we’re seeing Thirty in her element once again.

Even with two rampaging Bulls chasing her down, it’s the Prancing Horse who takes the chequered flag. Y/N Y/L/N wins the Spanish Grand Prix!

MB - Despite all of the noise this weekend, it’s races like this one that define y/n as one of the best drivers of this generation. From the flawless start, to defending from the tremendous speed of the two Redbulls when it mattered most - that was a wonderful race to watch.

SC - I’m sure Ferrari were hoping for a 1-2 finish today, but after Charles' engine issues forced him to retire, I think they’ll be happy to get the most possible points with y/n’s fastest lap too. Look at that celebration, if there’s one thing about Thirty, every win is just as exciting as the last.

The feeling you got when you won never was any less triumphant, no matter how many you had tucked under your belt. But after how long the weekend had felt, this one felt particularly special. You climbed atop your car and pumped your fists above your head - practically giddy with glee as the crowd cheered for you, the underlying boos barely phasing you. They just didn’t matter - their opinions didn’t matter.

Your eyes zeroed in on a small group of girls who were in the grandstands, dressed head to toe in red - waving a banner for you above their head. Their celebrations seemed louder than anyone else's so you made sure to wave, putting the biggest smile on their faces before you hopped over to the car.

You laughed as the team swept you up in a tight hug when you ran over to the barrier, patting you on the helmet - the noise vibrated through you, making your heart soar. If there was a group of people you knew you could rely on, it was your team; even after your reveal, they were never any less supportive of you, always there for you no matter what the result was and treating you as they always had. It was one of the reasons why none of the contracts you offered tempted you, Ferrari are your family, you belong in red.

After swapping your helmet for your team cap, both Redbull drivers approached - Max giving you an overly enthusiastic bro hug, slapping your back so hard it almost hurt but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Amazing job, y/n. Almost got you.”

“Well, thankfully you and the smooth operator were too busy having a family squabble for that.” You teased, pulling back to let Carlos hug you as well, the Spaniard’s strong arms looped around your middle. “Now, if you boys don’t mind me - I have a winner’s interview to do.”

“Good job, y/n. Really happy for you.” Carlos made sure to get his praises in before you head across parc ferme. “See you soon.”

“Congratulations, y/n, what a result!” Naomi looked almost as excited as you as you approached for your post race interview. “How are you feeling right now?”

Your face was already hurting from how much you were smiling, you placed a hand on top of your cap and laughed. “I’m over the moon, this win felt so good.”

“After all you’ve had to deal with since your reveal, this is definitely wonderful to see.” She praised. “You raced spectacularly, anything you’d like to say to the people out there who still doubt you?”

“Honestly? After everything the guys, Max, Pierre, Esteban and Charles especially, put on the line for me, none of it really matters anymore. I have confidence in my skills and talent in this sport and knowing that my rivals believe in me too means everything… I won’t pretend that reading cruel things online will magically stop hurting, but I know what I’m capable of. I’m a world champion for a reason and there’s nothing anyone can say that will take that away from me.”

“Is this the start of your triumphant return, are we going to see you up on the top step now you’ve got your confidence back?”

“I’m ready for whatever the rest of the season throws at me. The championship is still all to play for right now, so I’m going to put my best foot forward and focus on racing.”

“Thank you so much, y/n. Congratulations. Your race winner, everybody!”

You waved at the crowd as you stepped inside to head to the cool-down room, your heart racing. Max and Carlos both greeted you with large smiles as you stepped into the room, the Spaniard playfully swatting at the brim of your cap to knock it from your head - swapping it for the 1st place Pirelli cap. “Much better, hermosa.”

“Thank you, however…” You knelt down to pick up your Ferrari hat, dusting it off before placing it on the table, a teasing lilt to your voice as you spoke. “Don’t disrespect! You can be proud of me for winning without being rude about my team, Carlos. I won’t ever let you forget you were almost one of us.”

“Idiot.” Max mumbled playfully, a strong arm draping across your shoulder - his eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “Congrats again on the win, y/n. You raced like a proper champ.”

“It felt good. Like of course winning is always good but this one felt different. Perhaps it was the timing of it, but there’s something about winning while feeling confident in myself again that makes me hungry for more.” You smiled softly. “To be honest, it felt more like the two of you were pushing me along than racing me… I’d thank you for taking it easy on me but there’s no way that that’s true.”

“You know I’d never do that. It was all you.” The Dutchman scoffed. “How dare you remember how good you are at racing, how am I supposed to beat you now.”

The way you grinned at him, gave Max flashbacks to your karting days together - your genuine joy when you beat him or all of the other boys in races. He could picture the small girl with her hair all messy from her helmet, sticking her tongue out at him when he whined to his Dad that a girl beat him. It’s not fair, she pushed me! When in reality you were just talented from day one. The way anyone could ever doubt you were Thirty bewildered him because you were you. Driven. Passionate.

It was why he never had any issue sharing the podium with you - your wins felt truly earned. Sure every driver had a win or two that they got under unusual circumstances but when the two of you were on those steps together, he could see how much you enjoyed it, no matter which number win it was and finally being able to see your smile made it all the better.

As you lifted your trophy above your head, you scanned the crowd for Charles - who, despite his DNF, was now standing in the front row, smiling up at you with pride. He threw you a cheesy wink as he clapped, not letting his own race ruin this for you. Despite not being your first win of the season, it was your first time on the top step so you relished every second of it - drowning both Redbull drivers in champagne before chugging some of the sparkling liquid. Max made sure he poured his drink down the back of your race suit, something he insisted he missed out having to share with your body double after the last win when you scolded him for it.

You felt on top of the world, all of your criticisms temporarily forgotten when that evening, all you could hear was the clinking of glasses against your own - the girls’ lips all sparkled with champagne as they toasted your victory. As much as you loved the guys, being celebrated by other women made your win all the more special. Lily looped an arm around your middle and pulled you close as Carmen snapped a photo - their laughter twinkling through the air. They gushed on how amazingly you raced, teasing you as your cheeks flushed.

All of this however, didn’t stop Charles watching you from across the bar - your red race suit traded for a gorgeous dress of the same colour, your eyes sparkling under the lights. The confidence you were radiating was intoxicating; he wanted to blame it on the beer he was drinking but there was nothing more he wanted than to have his hands all over you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, everything about you was magnetic. He wanted to steal you from the girls, but he knew you needed this. Even when Max slapped him on the shoulder, he struggled to tear his eyes away.

“She’s not going to vanish if you stop looking at her, mate.” The dutchman teased, Charles finally turned away from you. “Let her celebrate, she knows where you are when she’s ready.”

“Something about her is just…different. Lighter.”

Max smiled softly, secretly fond of how Charles was with you. “She just won a race!”

“No, no. It’s more than that.” The other driver insisted. “But I just can’t put my finger on it… and if you’ll excuse me, I can’t just watch from a distance. She’s too beautiful.”

“Gross.”

He shoved Max lightly on the arm before crossing the bar to get to you, weaving between the flashes of red of those who were still in their team kit. Charles watched Lily give you a look before you cast your eyes over your shoulder - your face cracking into a grin. Your teammate felt grateful you were as pleased to see him as he was you. “Charles.”

“Mon amour.” He hummed, draping an arm around your waist - pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Sorry, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. Having fun?”

“So much. I’m glad you’re here actually, we were just talking about you.” You lent into his touch.

“Oh yeah?”

Lily’s brow raised playfully. “You’ve got a big battle coming, il Predestinato. Now that our girl’s back, you ready to step it up?”

“I don’t think she ever left.” You looked at him as he spoke, his green eyes already fixed on you. “Just needed a little reminder of who she is.”

You smiled softly at him before leaning in to kiss him - his hand coming up to rest on your jaw. “I’ll never forget again thanks to you, and who knows, there’s still 16 races to go… anything could happen.”

“Joint world champions.” He teased, “That ever happened before?”

“Don’t think so.” Your laughter was soft, Charles had practically forgotten the presence of the girls watching you both with a fondness in their eyes. “But if anyone could do it, it would be us.”

“Cheers to that and cheers to you, y/n. I love you.”

You clinked your glass against his. “I love you too.”

***

Yourusername added to their instagram story

***

After your race win in Imola and poor strategy in Monaco from your team - ruining Charles’ chance at a win at his home grandprix, it didn’t take long for you to catch up to your teammate in the points and by the time the chequered flag was waved in Azerbaijan, you were the championship leader and it felt good. You could tell the strategy calls were starting to affect your boyfriend but whenever you brought it up, he told you it was all fine and that he was nothing but happy for you and selfishly, you believed him. You wanted him to feel as excited as you did, and it was the first time in a long time you were feeling good about your career.

Instead, you focused on racing with the same confidence you always knew you had before your reveal and with the people around you always making sure you had a smile on your face - the last few straggling cynics barely made a noise over the roaring crowds every time you lifted a trophy above your head.

Part of you thought maybe you had just become more attentive now you were free to be yourself, but every race that passed seemed to have more and more female fans eager to greet you at the barricades, ecstatic that you were leading the championship even if there was only 7 points in it.

“You’ve got this in the bag, y/n!” They always told you Canadian’s were nice, and it was shown with the way your new poor assistant’s arms were piled high with gifts as fans chatted away with you. You were never allowed to talk to them before as Thirty, so meeting them really was a delight. “Those boys don’t stand a chance.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Charles is pretty good.” You smiled softly. “But, I’ll tell you what… I’m gonna do my absolute best for you.”

“You’re already the champion in my eyes, regardless of how the season ends.”

“Oh stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” You laughed softly, giving the girl a one armed hug. “I have to go now, thank you all though - for the support, the gifts. I’ll try and win for you today, promise.”

You helped to take some of the gifts from your assistant before heading towards the motorhome, saying hi to the other drivers as you passed by - after the protest, they had much more an effort to include you in idle chit-chat or debates they were having with another driver. Whether it was Esteban trying to get you to convince Mick and Lance that his long standing feud with Max was definitely over or Kevin showing you photos of his kid, it was nice. It was truly all you had ever wanted from your reveal - not just to be a driver, but to feel like one too.

Charles tucked you under his arm before the driver parade started, bickering with Pierre in French about god knows what but the glint in their eyes and the cheeky smile on Charles’ face assured you it was all in good fun. You simply rested your head against your boyfriend, eyes closed as you enjoyed the surprisingly warm weather as you waited for the flatbed to start moving.

“Mon amour, are you falling asleep standing upright?” He teased, squeezing you into his side.

“Mhmm, you’re so comfy, Charles.” You hummed softly, standing up straighter as the engine began to rumble - wanting to wave to the crowds instead of being caught dozing. “Besides, I’ve got to be well rested before I win the race later.”

“Leading the championship and suddenly your ego is massive.” Pierre teased, kicking you lightly in the shin - making you whine and glare at him. “I’m kidding. You deserve to be cocky, you have been very impressive recently.”

You raised a brow. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Gasly.”

“Uh oh, Pierre, you’ve made an enemy of Thirty. You better there’s no chance of the two of you tangling during the race.”

You practically snorted out a laugh. “Oh Charles, he won’t need to worry… unless, maybe I end up lapping him.”

“Oh it is on.”

It was your turn to bicker with Pierre, your boyfriend slipping away to talk to some of the others as the flatbed pulled back in to drop you all off at the pits. You felt in such high spirits when you got in the car that there was just nothing that could stop you - you were sure of it. You were going to get your 3rd title and Ferrari their first WCC since 2018. it felt like you owed them at least that much after keeping you on.

And oh, did you love this track. With its tight barriers hugging the track and long straights, the high speed was risky but made the race all the more exciting. That paired with the two Redbull’s sniffing at your car’s rear end and your teammate starting at the back of the grid, it was bound to be an exciting race.

Max put up a hell of a fight, chasing you down and barely giving you even a second to breathe - he nearly caught you on more than one occasion, but not pitting during the late safety car was his fatal mistake - his pebbled tires were no match for your shiny new softs. And before long you were lifting your second consecutive first place trophy above your head, Max and Lewis alongside you.

You felt untouchable, blowing a kiss in the direction of a small crowd of Redbull fans who had booed you louder than the rest as you’d been handed your trophy before giving their golden boy a good hosing down with your champagne, the two men who you shared the podium with upended the bottles over your head in a bubbling waterfall- a giddy smile on both of your faces as you celebrated.

“Hey congrats.” Lewis grinned, patting you on the shoulder as the three of you stood on the podium for the photo together. “Winning looks better on you every time.”

“Thanks Lewis, means a lot. Especially from you.”

The three of you stepped off the podium for your post race interviews, and you just couldn’t shake the electricity running through you. Not a single interview passed without them commenting on just how different you seemed - how over the course of the past few races, the personality they had loved beneath the helmet seemed to have finally come to the surface. “It’s so nice to see how much you’re enjoying racing again, y/n.”

“Yeah, it’s been really really good.” You smiled, your hands resting against the cool metal barricade in front of you. “Sure, I still see and hear some nasty stuff but it… it just doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t hurt as bad knowing that I have nothing to prove to them. They’ll never like me, and that’s okay. I have plenty of supporters and friends who love me and back me up no matter what.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. Hope you enjoy your weekend off, see you at Silverstone.”

You thanked the press before heading back to the Ferrari motorhome, letting out a yelp as you were practically tackled by your boyfriend as he swept you up in his arms. “There’s my race winner.”

“Oh who cares about my race win when you made it up from 19th to 5th!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him - the warmth from his body made you feel at ease. “That’s far more impressive. You very much deserved the driver of the day, I’m glad your hard work was recognised.”

“Well...” He carefully placed you on the floor, placing his hands on your hips. “How about we take our weekend off to celebrate your phenomenal race and my win, hmm?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. He smiled against your lips and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss like you weren’t surrounded by the hustle and bustle of your team packing up now the weekend was over. Neither of you cared, you simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but notice the cheeky glint in his eyes. You let your hand move to rest on his jaw, brushing your thumb across the stubble. “That sounds like an offer I simply can’t refuse.”

***

The skies were blue when you touched down in Silverstone, another favourite - a classic; the Tifosi showing wasn’t as big as it used to be but there were enough flashes of red amongst the crowds for you to feel their support. But, much to the disappointment of the Mercedes and Mclaren fans filling the grandstands, you and your team were currently on track to win the whole thing. You’d spent more time than you cared to admit trying to figure out what the earliest race you could win the championship at despite your slow start to the season.

But with Charles, Max and Carlos all having an equally impressive score sheet, you honestly had no idea which way it was going to go - you could only hope it would be in your favour. You’d worked so hard to fight for not only the championship, but the respect you deserved that you knew that you couldn’t stop now. Everything was to play for and you couldn’t back down now.

SC - Welcome one, welcome all to the Formula 1 Lenovo British Grand Prix here at Silverstone, the sun is shining down on all of us Martin and it looks set to be a good race. With the Ferraris and Redbulls occupying the two front rows, it will be a challenge for anyone else to claim victory. Our Championship leader shares the front row with Max Verstappen, who is gaining with each race on her and her teammate Charles Leclerc.

MB - It definitely is one to watch, the battle between the Prancing Horses and Bulls has been thrilling so far this season. I can’t wait to see how this all plays out and with Y/N having claimed podiums in her last six races, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her back on that top step.

SC - I’d put money on it if I was a betting man. Her performance leading up to this point has been something special. But with Max picking up the pace, I think he’s definitely her biggest competitor right now.

MB - Now Crofty, I wouldn’t write young Leclerc off so quickly, he is second place right now.

SC - Well, I’ll guess we’ll just have to wait and see as the grid lines up for the start of the race. The British Grand Prix is about to start, engines are revving… and its lights out, and away we go!

You felt breathless as you pulled into parc ferme, what a race. Despite your win, you couldn’t help but think about Gyanyu, George and Alex - the crash at the start was scary and you were lucky to have not been a part of it with a third of the grid getting tangled up. As much as you loved to win, it was always a bittersweet feeling when others were potentially hurt.

As you climbed out of the car, you made an effort to try and catch as many of the other drivers you knew had been part of the incident as you could as they made their way through parc ferme. You immediately wrapped your arms around Seb as he climbed out of the car, your former teammate giving you a gentle chuckle in response - promising that he was okay. So you glanced around the crowd for your childhood friend, Pierre smirking as he saw you approach. “Aw, coming to check on me?”

“Don’t make me regret it, Gasly.” You chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “But if you’ll excuse me, I did just win. Catch you later.”

You tried to catch Charles before he ducked away but you were ushered towards Lewis and Carlos for the podium interviews. With your fresher tires brought on by Esteban’s safety car, he wasn’t able to hold you off… or Lewis… or Carlos. So he was understandably frustrated. But you were still happy and wanted to celebrate with the team and you were sure once he’d had his moment of annoyance, he’d be happy for you too.

It was hard to have that same attitude when the roles were reversed the following week in Austria, and it was you who barely missed out on the podium and it all came to a head in your driver’s room. “I think we need to talk.”

“Oh?” Charles gently took off his first place cap and placed it on the coffee table. “Everything okay?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we haven’t had this conversation before but I feel like we need to talk about what happened this week and last week… when one of us wins and the other doesn’t. I think we need to find the balance of being able to understand how the other one feels versus celebrating the winner.”

“Yeah, yeah I get that. Well…” He approached you slowly, placing his hands on your hips - giving a gentle squeeze. “The winner can be sympathetic and the other can be supportive, but if one of us has a particularly bad race when the other wins then we just check in on how they feel first before jumping for joy at the win.”

“We’re both in with a chance of winning this whole thing, we have to promise not to let that get in the way of what we have.” You looped your arms around his neck, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “I'm really happy with you and I don’t want me beating you to ruin that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna beat me are you?” Charles chuckled. “Well, best of luck, mon amour. You’re gonna need it.”

***

Leading up the summer break, things stayed on the up for you but not so much for Charles the agreement between the two of you more in force than ever. Hungary was the last race before you could enjoy a relaxing few weeks away from the paddock but with Charles’ DNF in France the weekend before he’d lost 2nd in the WDC to Max, the Dutchman now 5 points ahead thanks to his victory and it was clearly bothering him. You were soaring ahead and he was starting to be left behind - you 33 points ahead.

Charles spent as much time as he could with fans, making sure not one was missed - chatting away, taking photos and bringing as many smiles to their faces as he could. He would always be the tifosi’s golden boy; despite you leading, he would always have a special place in their hearts and you couldn’t blame them. There was something charming and gentle about him, he was impossible to dislike. The way he avidly listened to every word fans said to him, the look on his face full of genuine interest. He was so kind and you knew someday he was going to live up to the massive expectations they had all put on his shoulders - you wanted to win the championship, but someday it was going to be his turn and you knew that he would have their support every step of the way.

As you finally stepped away from the crowds, you linked your fingers with his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze - noticing his deflated stature as you walked towards the motorhome. Neither have you qualified on pole and his hopes of winning were being diminished by the minute. “You looked like you were having a good time with the fans, what’s the matter? Talk to me…”

“I hate to say it, amour, but now that you’re off ahead in the distance - I’m gonna have to play the role of second driver.” He grumbled softly. “I really want you to do well, y/n, I do, but I want it to be fair.”

A soft sigh left your lips and you turned him to face you, his green eyes locked on yours. “I won’t let it be unfair. I’m gonna talk to my engineers and let them know how I feel about it.. When I beat you, it’s all gonna be on my own merit.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile, shaking his head a little. Your heart skipped a beat at his laughter, his strong arms looping around your middle. “And when I beat you, it’ll be because I deserve it too.”

“Exactly. We’re equals.” You lent up to press a kiss to his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Last race until the summer break, we just have to get through this and then you and I can escape to your yacht and make the most of the privacy.”

“You are beyond tempting.” He purred, pulling you in closer. “If we weren’t surrounded by all these prying eyes, I’d have you exactly where I want you.”

A giggle escaped you, you raised a playful brow at him. “Well, then what are we waiting for? Your driver’s room has a lock on the door, doesn’t it?”

Your teammate groaned, his nose nudging against yours before he kissed you with even more intensity than before - not caring about the cameras or poor staff members walking past you both to get into the building. The butterflies erupted in your stomach as he smiled against your lips, not wasting a second more before he tugged you into the building towards his driver room. He pressed your back against the door as he closed it, his pupils blown with lust as they scanned your figure. “As pretty as you look in red…”

“I’d look better in nothing?” You teased, slipping your hands under his polo - he shivered as your cold hands ran across his skin. “C’mon, Charles. You can do better than that.”

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, dropping his voice to a whisper as his lips brushed across your skin. “Tu es délicieux(1)…je t’aime de tout mon coeur(2).”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. “God, you speaking French really does something to me.. Don’t stop.”

He tugged you away from the door as he pulled your polo over your head, lips only breaking from your skin to mutter filth in french. You were weak at the knees as he pulled back to look at you - his lips shiny with your gloss. You reached up to brush your thumb across his bottom lip before tugging on his chin gently to bring him back into a kiss as he began to work on the button of your jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You managed to get out, feeling breathless but your boyfriend seemed relentless, grunting in response as he dropped to his knees to pull your jeans over your hips, tugging you lightly so you thumped down on the couch with a soft oof. “Charles, the door.”

“You’re killing me.” He whined, running his hands up the insides of your thighs - pushing them apart. “Je ne peux pas supporter d'être loin de toi ne serait-ce qu’un instant(3), amour.”

You draped a leg over his shoulder. “If anyone walks in, I’ll run you off the track later.”

His lips curved into a devilish smirk. “Deal.”

****

charles_leclerc posted to his instagram stories

***

Next part >>>

(1) you’re delicious

(2) I love you with all my heart

(3) I can't stand being away from you for even a moment

I hope you enjoyed ❤️ thank you for all your continued support regardless of my terrible posting schedule

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

#unmasked fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #x reader #charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc x you #leclerc x reader

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sunascumdoll · 2 years

Text

ʜQ ᴠɪꜱᴜᴀʟ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ ɪꜱ, ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ, ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ.

description: this is just a masterlist of twt videos that remind me of hq boys. all videos will have the kinks/triggers listed.

a/n: big big BIG help to @nekomamiiz for helping me sort some of these videos and come up with titles! thank you so much ily baby mwah.

ᴍʜᴀ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ || ᴊᴊᴋ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ || ᴛᴏᴋʏᴏʀᴇᴠ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜQ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ | ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

Daichi

✩ such a good slut. - daichi fucking his pillow princess. cw // daddy kink, petnames (sweetheart, baby), some degradation (slut), and praise (good girl).

✩ toe curling. - milking daichi dry. cw // riding, light spanks, creampies.

✩ coaxing you. - daichi playing with your pussy. cw // fingering, squirting, kisses.

Kageyama

✩ give me a kiss. - soft dom kags spoiling his baby. cw // cockwarming, kissing.

✩ cling to me. - kageyama toying with your hole. - cw // kissing, cuddling, fingering.

✩ gentle touches. - kageyma fucking your hand until he cums. cw // handjobs

Kenma

✩ level up! - pleasing yourself on kenma’s cock while he games. cw // loud moaning, doggy.

✩ drink your milk, pretty kitty. - sucking your master’s cock. cw // pet play (collar, leash, kitten ears), oral m!receiving

✩ try to focus. - kenma pounding you while you play on his switch. cw // just missionary

Matsukawa

✩ don’t run. - mattsun pinning you and keeping you from squirming. cw // intense orgasm, dirty talk, possible mind break?

✩ messy eater. - mattsun messily eating your cunt. cw // oral f!receiving, spit.

✩ bend over. - mattsun taking you from behind. cw // possible creampie

✩ split open. - horse cock mattsun stretching you open. cw // BIG DICK ISSEI HNGG, breeding/creampie.

Iwaizumi

✩ you got this. - iwa easing his princess’s nerves before a job interview. cw // fingering, titty sucking, car sex.

✩ sound so pretty. - iwa relishing in the noises you make while tasting you. cw // oral f!receiving.

✩ backseat breeding. - iwa fucking you in the back of his car. cw // breeding, riding, kissing, car sex.

Suna

✩ smile for the camera. -

✩ watch me make this pussy purr. -

✩ picture perfect pussy. - missionary w suna. cw // recording, missionary

✩ paparazzi. - suna filming the after math of a session. cw // creampie, spanking.

Atsumu

✩ after practice snack. - atsumu tasting his baby. cw // oral f!receiving, 69.

✩ right here. - fucking you on a table. cw // kissing, creampie.

✩ take a seat. - hovering over tsumu’s face. cw // oral f!receiving.

taglist (bold cannot be tagged): @booksweet @shalnarkswhoree @ushijimasslut @kawaiikooki @fiona782 @yaqueerqueen @papitoshi @undefined—person @omiikeii @SATISFYINGLYBLUE @crapimahuman @tirzamisu @kisseswithkai @itsmeteiiteii @slxttygoddess @random-734 @matssuncxmslxt @bakugobaki @tifhen @Tithesandofferings @dadbodosamu @eternallyvenus @devilgirlcrybabiey @fsrintaro @mid-night-blossoms @seraphqueen @cheryly @cinnamonwishes @babydai @wydks-blog @honeymilkpup @xxrwzy @bbytamaki @xo-lynx @annHONK @strawberyyydreamz @sunascockslut @jahnvi-d @chloee0x0 @nexety @keismind @skillaxx @keisurou @izanaswife @strwbrrymilkbunny @suga_tofu @crystal-lilac @levylovegood @dear-jaems @yeehawnana @rinslutz

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xxblairexxss · 9 months

Text

Hunt game (Charles Leclerc x reader)

Series contain stalking, harrasment, sexual violence.

Masterlist

Just an introduction to the characters and a little sneak peak on how they met since we gonna picked up the story from their engagement day ahead. We have more chapters ahead so buckle up!

Chapter 1

The sun was scorching hot, and there wasn’t a single moment where the vertical wrinkles between your brows had stopped creasing ever since you got here. Those Pinterest-inspired outfits you had saved on your albums weeks before would have been a mess if you hadn’t done a double check on your outfit today.

You were especially keen on trying out this one outfit where it paired high-waisted jeans with an oversized sweatshirt because it would look adorable, especially with a claw-clip bun hairstyle, but that would have made you drenched with sweat as it confined all that heat. Instead, you went with a cute embroidery off-shoulder frill trim crop top in white with basic denim jeans.

This whole motorsport event was something you had only seen on television every weekend. Being able to experience it in real life and seeing the hype with your own eyes made you feel all giddy, even though you weren’t a fan of it. It was only then that you knew that Formula 1 had its own little branches.

They were listing out names on the big screen with a picture of every driver. You were pretty sure you were the only one squinting your eyes trying to read those names just so you would be more familiar with the names and team involved in Formula 2. The paddock pass you had hanging on your neck was used as some sort of fan as you kept on flapping it in front of your face, seeking a little breeze in the hope of cooling down the heat.

With one hand holding your travel-sized sunscreen, you stepped aside from the roes and lines of people to take a breath. There were people walking past you within every minute, each of them wearing a different colour of shirt, indicating the different team they were supporting. Those team logos that you saw on the shirts were not the same ones as the ones you had seen earlier.

"Checking the driver out?"

Your frown disappeared the second you heard a voice too close to your ear while you were staring at the on-going interview that was held with two well-known drivers wearing red shirts. The logo on the shirt was familiar to you as it didn’t take a genius to spot that. It was familiar to every human being in this world. The classic black horse on a yellow shield background.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were checking out the drivers like what I’m currently doing."

His reply was very nonchalant. He wasn’t even looking at you. He was staring at the two drivers with his hands on his waist. The way he was acting so casual made you feel so out of place for being surprised, so you tilted your head back to the drivers with your hands crossing over your chest.

"You know them?" You heard his voice again.

"Yeah, I have seen them a lot on television." He leaned in to be able to hear what you were saying while you were unconsciously straining your voice to make sure he was able to hear you amongst all sorts of noises coming from the crowd. "That one—yeah, that one is Sebastian Vettel, and that one is Kimi Räikkönen!"

"Big fan of Ferrari?"

"My dad is." You responded. Your hospitality pass was flapping on your face again as the heat caught up to you while you leaned back against the wall. "Are you?"

"Everyone’s a Ferrari fan." He fished out his phone and took a few pictures of the drivers before they passed the microphones back to the interviewers and made their way back. "Who’s your dad’s favourite driver?"

"I don’t know, actually. I think he likes them all equally." You realised he was no longer looking ahead. He was leaning against the gray-colored wall from the building that both of you had been standing beside all this time while the interview went on. His eyes were on you now, and his hands mimicked yours as he had them crossed over his chest.

"What about you?"

"I like Sebastian Vettel!" Your voice went a little high, a little excited to answer the first ever question you have ever gotten in relation to the sport. It felt like you were somehow accepted by the clique, though you only knew a few teams and names.

"Yeah? I like him too. I would love to be in the same team with him one day."

That wasn’t something that a normal fan would say. You had to go through and check the facts to see if it was even possible for a fan to wish to be in the same team as their favourite driver. If so, your dad would have been talking about it. "You drive too? Like these fast cars?"

"Yeah, I drive too, but mine isn’t as fast as Vettel's, though." He grinned, knowing what you would say after. It wasn’t the first time people ever told him that his little sweet dream would never come true. He had heard it countless times and had gotten used to it by now. "I know what you’re going to say."

"What?"

"You are going to tell me it’s impossible, aren’t you? For me to be on the same team with him." His hand went into his back pocket as he stood up straight.

"No."

"Sorry?" He blinked in surprise.

"I think it’s possible. I think... I think Vettel could do a teammate like you." You beamed widely and nodded in satisfaction with your words before taking a step away to find your dad.

"You can use this." He called out and handed you a white portable mini-fan.

"Are you sure?" The paddock pass fell and was left hanging on your neck as you let it go and took the mini fan from him.

"I don’t really need it."

"Thank you!" You clicked on the button as it flipped, and you felt the cooling effect hit your face. Sending him one last beam of gratitude, you walked back and joined the crowd, looking left and right to find your dad.

"Thank you too."

His gaze was interrupted as he was handed a green notebook with a striped marker pen by one of the fans, asking for his autograph, followed by a couple of photo sessions with a few others.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were back again in the paddock, two years older. The weather this time, if you were to express it in words, would be an antonym to the last two years. It wasn’t extremely cold, but enough to send chills down your body from the constant rain. Your knowledge of motorsports this time has improved a lot. Your dad was excited when you started bringing up his favourite topic first during dinnertime because now he had someone to talk to about all the things that excited him.

The raincoat you had kept inside your tote bag was being pulled out as soon as you felt a few drops on your cheeks. The rain never learned how to do its greeting properly. It was always a few drops and a heavy rain the next second. You were trying to untie the little string that helped to keep your folded raincoat neatly in square shape while the rain started dropping down even more.

"How do I untie this?" Your hand kept on going from unknoting the string to protecting yourself from the rain, as if your palm was big enough to cover your entire body. The string wasn’t cooperating, and your indecisive trait made you stand in place instead of figuring something out.

"Need my help?

"Please!" Your eyes flittered upon feeling the little drops on your face as the person tried to untie the string.

"Shoot! This isn’t working. Let’s just run." Your hand that was purposelessly trying to cover your head from the rain was being grabbed as you found yourself running with him in the rain, unsure of where you were heading.

"Can we even be in here?" The run made you puff out. He had somehow dragged you inside Ferrari’s hospitality when you were so sure you would get kicked out the second someone noticed you. "I should go." You tried to scurry away and flinched when the thunderstorm rumbled.

"It’s okay. Just stay here. They’ll know you’re with me."

"It’s you?!" Your hands went to cover your mouth immediately as you got a proper look at his face this. It was the same guy from last year. He looked the same, just in a different uniform. "Oh my God! Are you Sebastian Vettel’s teammate now?"

"Is he still your favourite driver?"

"Yeah! I am still a big fan of him. Oh, I didn’t bring your mini fan.” The mini fan was still working perfectly fine, but it was left in your room because you weren’t expecting to bump into him again.

He took out his phone, and you saw his fingers danced on the screen before he handed it to you. "How about you give it back to me when I take you out?"

"What should I do with this?" The screen showed a numberless contact with the name ‘pretty girl in white top’.

"Your phone number?"

You passed the phone back and chewed on your lips. "I have a boyfriend."

"Ah! Sure– I’m so sorry."

You chuckled as you retracted your hand back and typed in your phone number. "Just kidding! There! I should probably go to my dad before he freaks out.”

"Wait!" The phone was being placed on the coffee table, as he ran to get an umbrella. "Use this."

"Thank you!"

Charles turned on his phone and saw your contact number being saved as "My name’s Y/N!"

"Y/N.."

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Can I get her sign too?"

"My girlfriend?" Charles chuckled and passed the green notebook to you. You weren’t really sure what to do or how you should make your sign looked like because you had never prepared yourself anything like this. "Sign here, love."

"Like this?" You handed the striped marker pen back to Charles and hid your face in his arms when he laughed at how small the signature was.

"You might need more practise." The notebook and marker pen were handed back to the owner, making him laugh along after seeing your little sign.

"I’ll make sure she attends my classes on how to improve her signature."

"Can I get a picture?"

Charles’s hand went back to hold yours while his free hand moved vigorously, sliding those pens and markers on caps, shirts, and banners that the fans had prepared while exchanging a few conversations.

"What was that signature, baby?"

He was holding it the whole time. The occasional glances he gave you as he kept on signing the merchandise were enough to let you know that he wasn’t done yet with the tease so it wasn’t a surprise when that was the first topic he brought up once both of you got your own privacy time.

"Shut up! I didn’t know they would ask for my signature too." You leaned on his side as he kept you close with his arm on your waist.

"But it’s cute! I would definitely get it tattooed if I was obsessed with you." Laughing, he pinched your cheek when you scowled. "Let’s be real. Would you tattoo my name on your body?"

"Of course!" You exclaimed. It was impossible to hold your laugh when he stared at you with scepticism.

"Yeah, right! No one’s believing that, baby." He retorted, leaving a lingering kiss on your hair.

"Yeah, no. Can you imagine if I have your name written in a big font across my arms?" You questioned.

"On a second thought, that might not be that bad of an idea. Everyone will know you are my girlfriend." He jested and earned a slap on his arm.

"No! What if we break up? I’m going to have to get them removed, and even if they were removed, you'd still see the mark."

"We’ll never break up. I don’t want us to ever break up." He muttered.

"I don’t want you to leave me too." You murmured, tiptoeing to leave a peck on his cheek.

"Whatever happens in the future, let’s talk it out instead of choosing a break. I can’t lose you, Y/N." He murmured.

"You won’t lose me, baby."

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Charles, slow down! You’re going to make me trip on my dress!" You called out, feeling his pace increased with every step you took.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was just excited for you to see the place. Here we are!"

The sudden switch from pitch black to the brightness around you when Charles took off the blindfold on your eyes caused you to squeeze them shut.

"Do you like it?"

The room was illuminated with candles that were placed on a dark-coloured candle holders. There were rose petals spread out on the floor, looking like a path that led you to the centre.

He had asked you to go out for a dinner date, and you thought it was just like any other ones you had, but he reminded you specifically to dress a little extra, so you went with a split thigh backless dress in dark blue paired with a necklace that you got as a gift from Charles.

"Oh my god, I love this! Did you decorate this on your own?"

"Yeah, with some help from the Internet." He murmured and moved closer to snake his arms around your waist while your arms circled his neck.

"What’s the special occasion?" You questioned him, brushing your nose against his jaw.

"Oh, yeah! Okay.." He muttered, pulling away as he gave your arms a squeeze. Charles looked anxious. You knew because he kept on pressing his lips together; his green eyes barely kept on you for any longer than a minute as he kept on looking away.

"Charles? What’s wrong.."

"I– um," Charles had seen this a lot in movies, but he wasn’t really sure how someone went about doing it. He wasn’t sure if he should pull out the ring and put out the question first, if he should give a hint so you knew what’s coming, or if he should let you talk first.

"Y/N,"

You let out a gasp, your hand went to cup over your mouth as he went down and got on one knee. Charles fished out the velvet ring box he had kept in his pocket, which felt significantly heavier despite its small size.

"I wanted you to write the happy ending to our lives together. Will you marry me?"

He could see you were smiling, though half of your face was covered. "Yes! Oh my God, yes!" Your head bobbed up and down in a nod, feeling the weight on your finger as he slipped the ring on.

"I love you so much." He breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up as your lips met his.

"I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, fiancé." You muttered, fingers stroking the back of his neck while slowly feeling as if you were getting hypnotised the longer you stared into his green eyes.

charles_leclerc

Liked by ynusername, carlossainz55, and 1,836,729 others

charles_leclerc She said yes 🧸💍

pierregasly Ay congrats!!! 🤵🏻‍♂️👰🏻

username1 OMG OMG OMGGGGG

carlossainz55 Off to the next chapter 🛫

ynusername 🥹❤️

username2 FINALLYYY I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

username3 im crying 😭🥹😭🥹😭🥹

username4 Charles is off the market! ❤️😩

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, charlottesiine, and 633,820 others

ynusername day one as someone’s fiancée ❤️🥰

charles_leclerc you made me the luckiest man on earth ❤️

username1 parentsssss 🥹🥹

username2 the cutest couple ever

charlottesiine Congratulations, linda! ❤️

username3 They have always been the most unproblematic couple in the grid

katerinaberezhna Omg congrats angel!

They said you could never please anyone in the room. Let it be a room of hundreds or tens, there would always be one unsatiated person. They said you would fail the moment you lived your life making sure everyone else was please with you. They said ignore, walk away, because people’s words shouldn’t limit how you should live your life.

But what happened when you ignored them way too much that they decided to kick it up a notch, thwarting their way into your own bubbles of euphoria.

Just like what happened to Mufasa.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! 😭 Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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jasmancer · 4 months

Note

I'd love to see more sources on black ppl in the punk scene :-)!!

Ya of course!!!! These cover more overall rock but here's a few books I still suuuuper recommend

Rip It Up: The Black Experience in Rock N Roll by Kandia Crazy Horse

A great anthology of articles and interviews with black rock artists and fans dating back to the 70s. One of the articles featured is White Noise Supremacists by Lester Bangs (originally published 1979) which is a really interesting look into early punk culture's flippant attitude around appropriating white supremacist symbols and being racist/homophobic/antisemitic "ironically." cw there's tons of slurs in this article

bookshop.org

thriftbooks

Black Diamond Queens: African American Women in Rock and Roll by Maureen Mahon

A very recent book! Each section looks into various influential women in Rock, including Big Mama Thornton (the original and far superior singer of Hound Dog,) Tina Turner, Betty Davis, and the Shirelles to name a few.

bookshop.org

thriftbooks

Be My Baby by Ronnie Spector

The late great Ronnie Spector's autobiography. The black girl groups of the 60s were a massive part of the genesis of "classic" rock as we know it, and the Ronettes in particular were INCREDIBLY formative artists. The Rolling Stones opened for THEM. Another cw: Ronnie was in an abusive relationship with their producer Phil Spector for much of their career, and this is discussed at length in the book so read with care.

bookshop.org

thriftbooks

A few relevant books I have yet to read:

Dreadnaught: King of Afropunk, by D.H. Peligro of Dead Kennedys fame

WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?: A Black Woman’s Life and Liberation in Heavy Metal, by Laina Dawes (who wrote the article Why I Was Never A Riot Grrrl)

Here's a few online sources tooooooo

One of the last interviews with Poly Styrene before she passed

Trash Theory's video on Poly Styrene and her influence on riot grrrl

Why Bad Brains Were Banned in D.C.

A Band Called Death (Full Documentary)

#it speaks #ask #anon #riot grrrl #afropunk

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magicalrocketships · 5 months

Note

surviving to drive the max verstappen recovery story has changed my life on a visceral level. big brain moment from you. my third eye is open. the way your bullet points made me feel more raw emotion than some 100k+ fics I have ever read ?????? I???? Am changed!!!!!!!!!

(This is about this not!fic: surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story).

HONESTLY this got me through so many sleepless nights this year, and I could probably bang on about it for hours. I am glad other people like it too. 🧡🧡🧡 I have SO MANY imagined interviews and bits and pieces and stuff from it that I've mulled over in the depths of the night, but the only bit I ever actually wrote down was this bit, set after Max is back racing and everyone knows about him and Daniel:

"So, Max, what other hobbies did you take up during your recovery?"

"He read a book," Daniel said, nudging Max in the knee under the table, probably because it was clear that Max was thinking 'having sex with Daniel' and it was starting to show.

"I read three books," Max said, nudging Daniel back. "They were not very good."

"Yes," Daniel said. "He told my mum that her favourite book was bad because it didn't have any racing in it."

"It did not have any racing in it, Daniel."

"What book was it?" Caroline asked.

"Pride and Prejudice," Daniel said.

"There was no racing in it at all," Max said. "Also they were all very stupid."

"He was very clear about this to my mum," Daniel told the interviewer, pressing his knee back against Max's.

Caroline made some kind of face that Max didn't bother attempting to parse. This interview was boring, other than the press of Daniel's knee against his under the table. When they were finished maybe he could get Daniel into a locked room for two minutes and put his hand down Daniel's shorts. Daniel always made nice noises when Max did that.

"What did your mum think about that?" Caroline asked.

"She told me she wished I could be in her book club," Max said, not waiting for Daniel to jump in. There was a pause, because Daniel was laughing at him, which always made Max's chest feel warm. He liked that. "If I ever retire, I might join. As long as I do not have to read Pride and Prejudice again. Do you think she would make me read it again?"

"I think you can probably say no," Daniel said. "Plus, you've probably said everything you could possibly say about it. You were on FaceTime for a pretty long time."

Max made a face. "I would not say no if she asked me. That would be rude. But I do not want to read them all be so stupid again."

"You weren't even swayed by Mr Darcy being all let me tell you how ardently I admire and love you?" Caroline asked.

"Oh, you're a fan too," Daniel said. He was still laughing, but Max liked making Daniel laugh so it was worth it, even if they had to talk about Pride and Prejudice to get there.

"I love that book," Caroline said. "Elizabeth Bennet's my favourite heroine."

The noise Max made was not his fault. "Nobody even races a horse," he said, in disgust. "It is not a good book. It is the second book I have read since I was a child. Mr Darcy is a--" He was going to say pussy but he wasn't meant to say that in interviews anymore, even if it was true. "He would come last in a Formula 1 race, even though he is rich."

"Oh my god," Daniel said.

"But Elizabeth might come eleventh," Max conceded. "She fell in love when she saw Mr Darcy's house. I fell in love when Daniel took me to our house. So. Eleventh."

Daniel made some sort of noise. So did the interviewer. Max beamed. He was doing good.

#my fic #surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story #I feel like i might have shared this snippet before at some point #like a little contextless baby out in the wilds #but now it can go with 3k of Max coming out the other side

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illarian-rambling · 5 days

Text

Thanks for the tag @phoenixradiant!

OC Interview

I've been seeing people do two characters at once, so I'll do Sepo and Izjik as a pair :)

Are you named after anyone?

Izjik: "My name is a common one where I'm from, but I don't think I was named after anyone specific, no."

Sepo: "If I was, my mother croaked before she could tell me."

When was the last time you cried?

Izjik: "I dropped a bag of hammers on my foot at work the other day and spirits, they probably heard be about ten miles over!"

Sepo: "I don't cry."

Izjik: "Yes the fuck you do? Broody bastard. I saw you tearing up when we went and saw that new band. You cried last time you had to deal with the bounty guild because the guild leader makes you so damn angry. I know for a fact you get weepy every time you get so much as three drinks in you."

Sepo: "...no comment. Bitch."

Do you have kids?

Sepo: "You'd fucking think we do looking after Twenari. And she's not even half the trouble Djek is - and he's a grown-ass man."

Izjik: "Cut him some slack, he's like nineteen. But yeah, two kids pretty much. I've even been to a PTA meeting! That makes me certified parental material!"

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sepo: "Nooo, never..."

Izjik: "Low hanging fruit, my guy. I'm usually not sarcastic, though - it's not my style."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Izjik: "If they're going to try to kill and eat me."

Sepo: "Ditto. Then I move on to what makes them annoying."

Izjik: "You're so negative, you know that? My second impression is their hands. You can tell a lot about a person based on their hands."

What is your eye color?

Izjik: "Kind of a blue gray? Slate, Twenari calls it."

Sepo: "Sirens all have eyes of black."

Izjik: "And a good thing to, given how stupid big your pupils are."

Sepo: "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Izjik: "If you had blue eyes, you'd look kinda silly is what I mean."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Sepo: "Scary, though it takes a lot to phase me."

Izjik: "Bullshit, you jump every time the camera angle changes. I like scary too, but with happy endings. Things can get bad, yeah, but it's always good to see folks making it out in the end."

Any special talents?

Izjik: "I can do a one-handed pushup!"

Sepo: "That's because one of your hands hardly works."

Izjik: "You're just a hater because you can't do one. That can be your special talent - being a hater."

Sepo: "Yes, fine, let's brush over my musical composition abilities and skills in veterinary medicine. My true special talent is being a hater."

Izjik: "Damn straight."

Where were you born?

Izjik: "The enclave of Edeme’eneha, deep in the N'Diki swamp. I think it was a lovely place to grow up, all in all. I really miss it sometimes."

Sepo: "I was born in a brothel basement in the Ulahdrian capital city of Seluthena, the largest metropolis beneath the waves. I... I also miss it sometimes."

Do you have any pets?

Izjik: "Nah. I never really got the concept of an animal you don't eat."

Sepo: "Landhorse is more of a business partner. She gets me where I need to be, and in exchange, I give her food, shelter, and pet her sweet nose from time to time. She's the best of horses, a gentlewoman among beasts."

What sort of sports do you play?

Izjik: "Does fighting for fun count? There's this bar I like where I can always get into a scrap if I'm looking for one. I think people have started placing bets every time I walk in."

Sepo: "I would go on cross-country camping trips when I was a teen in the Saryimastra Seat. That involved swimming for a few days at least, so I suppose it could be a sport. I found it very relaxing, escaping from all the noise and fuss of the temple. Sometimes Saius would go with me, but usually, I'd go off on my own."

How tall are you?

Izjik: "Tall enough to skin my fist on your teeth, lanky ass!"

Sepo: "You are five foot two. I'm six foot five. I really don't think you are."

What was your favorite subject in school?

Izjik: "I never went, but I liked learning how to set snares during my apprenticeship. It was the only thing I'd sit still for. Looking back, maybe that's why Dzako had me learn so many."

Sepo: "My education was rather... propaganda-filled. Most of the history I enjoyed learning turned out to be false. A lot of the books I read were horribly censored, though I didn't know it at the time. I suppose music. You can twist the words and intentions of music to whatever aims you wish, but the heart of it is always pure."

What is your dream job?

Izjik: "I mean, whatever gets me paid and let's me work outside. I heard Twenari talking once about these people called potion hunters? Apparently, they hunt magical plants and animals for alchemists to use in their work. That sounds like a hell of a lot of fun!"

Sepo: "I've... This is going to sound stupid, but I've always wanted to compose my own songs. In Ulahdris, music was strictly regulated and created by the church. But here on the surface? It's chaos. Any asshole with a kazoo can play whatever he wants. I... Oh, it's all nonsense anyways. I'm fine doing what I need to in order to survive."

Izjik: "You've gotta let yourself live a little, Sepo. I'd love to hear your music!"

Sepo: "Truly? Then... Then perhaps someday, I'll work up the courage."

World's most married platonic soulmates, for real. I'll tag @kaylinalexanderbooks @mk-writes-stuff @sleepyowlwrites @corinneglass and anyone else who wants to play :)

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #oc interview

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dreaminrainbows · 4 months

Text

Sometimes i have this wish where i want to sit and interview Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson (not necessary to be together),where there're no blacklisted topics so i can ask them questions like " Louis, do you know the difference between Parmigianino cheese, parma ham and childish theories?" Or "Harry, what was that with the horse noises it was a simple yes or no question, no need to write an essay about the meaning of poetry to people about it?" Or like " so, exactly how many ai created pics have you seen of Harry, Louis?" Or " my dude what's with wmyb and falling in love to that song, it was literally overplayed in 2010? You're the only person alive who listens to it out of their own free will, i swear!! So what's with that?" and etc...

Just so i can watch them squirm and stutter and sweat and stumble over their words for my personal amusement, kicks and giggles.

Just to watch 15 years of media training go down the drain the minute the other's name is mentioned.

A girl can dream...

#louis tomlinson #louis and harry #larry stuff #harry styles #larry stylison #one direction #meme #crack jokes #chickengate

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disasterofastory · 2 years

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The maid of Mr. Barnes - Part 1 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

The maid of Mr. Barnes Part 1 - Interview // The maid of Mr. Barnes Masterlist Bucky Barnes x Reader Mafia AU Warnings: none

Summary: You have an interview for the maid job.

A/N: The first chapter of my new series about Bucky as a mobster and Reader as his new maid. I’m really excited about this story and I hope you will like it. Enjoy!

You are in the middle of nowhere. Acres of clear meadows surround you with forests in the background. Colorful wildflowers decorate the tall grass. Blooming red poppies cover the peaceful scenery. They ripple under the slight breeze of summer. The sun is at the top of the clear sky, warming your skin as you push yourself closer to the window. You can feel its heat on your shoulder. The bus slowly rocks under you with every hump and turn. The muscles of your legs flex as you try to keep your balance on your seat. Your eyes are on the view as you search for your destination. Nobody told you you have to go out to the middle of nowhere. Nobody told you that Mr. Barnes lives so far away from the city.

"Hey, Miss," the driver calls out for you as the bus stops with a loud creak. He glances at you over his shoulder. "This is your stop." You frown at his words but still move to get off the vehicle with a soft thank you. "And where should I go?" You turn back to the bus, looking up at the man behind the wheel. "Go straight, miss. You won't miss it." Well, if Mr. Barnes doesn't live in a tree, you are sure you won't miss it. "Thank you," you sigh, nodding at the driver as the doors of the bus close in front of you.

Soon, the bus departs, leaving you on the side of the road. There is a wooden board with a riding school name on it. A painted white horse looks back at you above the crooked letters. The dirt road behind it leads into the forest with muddy wheel tracks. The musky scent of the animals slaps you across the face as the light wind swirls in the air. The heavy smell settles in your nostrils.

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you turn to the other way to continue your journey to the given address.

The agency you work for called you a few days ago with an offer. They told you somebody needs a maid and asked if you are interested. You would have to move in, and it pays well. It was everything you wanted, but there was a catch. Of course, there is always a catch. You would work for Mr. Barnes. The mob boss. One of the leaders of the Avengers.

You heard of them before like everyone else. The gang rules the city and a lot of others. Some say they are harmless if you don't cross their way, while others are sure they are cruel and ready to kill you even because of a glance. You don't know who you should believe. You never had to care about them until now. But right now, you are in great need of a job and money, and you are not in the position to be picky. At this point, you don't care if Mr. Barnes is a gangster or a baker if he pays you well.

Almost half an hour later, you find the right road that leads you to the mansion. You can barely see the white building behind the tall brick wall that encircles the whole estate.

Well, at least he doesn't live in a tree.

You glance down at your watch with a relieved sigh. You still have five minutes until the interview. You are surprised you get here on time. There was a point in your journey when you were sure the bus driver made a fool of you. You stop in front of the iron gate, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on your clothes. There is a panel on the wall with a blank screen. You frown at it. What should you do with it? You are ready to panic when a voice breaks your confused state from nowhere. Jumping at the sudden noise, you look up at the cameras that turn your way in sync with the question. "Who are you?" "I'm Y/N," you speak up after a few seconds of hesitation. You grimace when you hear the trembling of your voice. "I'm here for the interview for the maid position." "Come in," somebody answers, and with that, the gate opens just enough to let you in. It creaks and groans.

A gravel road leads you to the building, splitting in two with a fountain in the middle. Water falls from the top with an elegant curve. Well-kept trees and bushes follow you on your way. The air is filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Small pebbles creak under your steps, and a man already waits for you on the marble porch. He wears jeans and a simple shirt. The fabric does nothing to hide his muscled body.

"Good morning," you speak up first, trying to put on your bravest face. A small jerk of the man's lips tells you that your attempt is unsuccessful. "Good morning," he says, holding out his hand for a shake when you reach him. "Sam Wilson." "Y/N Y/L/N," you introduce yourself, grabbing his warm hand. His squeeze is gentle and doesn't last longer than a second. "Come on in," he says. "I hope it's not a problem if we look into your bag. It's a protocol." "It's okay," you hum, following him into the building. What could your answer be? No? You didn't come all the way to back out now because they want to see what is in your bag.

A small room opens from the foyer. A man sits behind a desk full of computers. With a quick glance, you can see a lot of different parts of the house on the screens. Mr. Barnes really protects his place, huh? "Y/N, he is Phil," Sam says, introducing you to the man. "If you get the job, you will meet him often." "Hello," you wave at him awkwardly. "Ms. Y/L/N," he nods your way, taking your bag from your hand to look into it. "Can I trust you enough to believe you don't have any bug on you?" Your eyes widen at Sam's words. "A what?" You ask back. "A listening device," he explains. "Oh," you gasp. "No. I-I have nothing on me besides... clothes." You are not sure you would let them search you even though you really need the job. "Okay," Phil speaks up, giving you back your bag. "It's clear." "Great," Sam nods, touching your elbow for a second to goad you to the stairs. "We will talk in my office if it's okay with you?" "Sure," you nod, following up to the second floor.

You are confused about where Mr. Barnes is, but after some thinking, it's obvious he wouldn't waste his time on you. You are sure he has much more important things to do than questioning somebody for a maid position.

The house is beautiful with natural colors and huge windows. Expensive paintings hang on the walls with more expensive furniture and decorations all around the place. After a few turns, you entirely lost yourself in the corridors, almost walking into the man when he stops in front of a door.

"Sit down, please," he says, motioning you to one of the chairs in front of a huge mahogany desk. "So, Y/N Y/L/N," he starts, sitting down on his chair, and leaning back on it. "You live in the city with one of your friends, correct?" "Yes," you nod, surprised. Sam smiles at you apologetically, seeing your shock. "Background check," he says. "I hope you understand." "Yes," you nod. It doesn't mean you feel comfortable with it. What do they know about you already? "And you have already worked as a maid before," he states. "Yes," you nod again. "For two years. And before it, I worked in hotels." "So you know what you would have to do here. Bucky doesn't ask much, just basic cleaning and keeping everything organized. He has a chef and a few gardeners. They come and go every few days. And a team comes a few times a month for deep cleaning." You nod. It's a relief. You don't know how you could keep this place clean alone all the time. You would need a week just to wash the windows. "If you get the job, you would have to live here. Is it okay?" "Yes." "And I guess you already know about what we do?" "Yes." Your lips are dry, and you have to force your leg not to bounce. Everybody knows what they do. "I shouldn't even say this, but this job requires discretion. I'm sure you will see and hear things that may disturb you, but Bucky needs someone who can keep her mouth shut and turn a blind eye on things." "I can do that," you reply a bit too quickly. "I mean, I will try... I hope." "It's okay, Y/N," Sam smiles at you warmly. "It's understandable you are a bit nervous." Nervous doesn't describe how you really feel. A job interview is already stressful enough without meeting with gangsters. "A lot of our men sleep here from time to time, or they even move in when needed. All of us have our own rooms, and it's not your job to keep them tidy, but they still need cleaning from time to time. And the same goes for the offices. Most of your job will be in the common rooms and what they ask you to do. Is it okay?" "Yes," you nod. "I can even help in the kitchen or in the garden," you offer, hoping you don't sound too desperate. "Can you cook?" "Yes." You are not a master chef, but nobody complained before. "And the garden?" "I learn quickly." "That's a good thing in this house. Do you have anything else to say?" "I guess you already know everything," you tell him after some thinking. You hope the sarcasm isn't so obvious in your tone. "That's probably true," he nods. "If that's it, we are done here. I will call you this week with the decision, but I wouldn't be worried if I were you. For obvious reasons, not many people applied for this job." You don't feel better after his comment. Maybe applying for the job was a mistake? The others maybe know something you don't? You stand up from your seat, unsure about what to do next. Is it really over? "You can go, Y/N," he nods, busying himself with a document in front of him. "Thank you," you reply in the end, making your way to the door with a last glance back to the man. "Have a nice day, Mr. Wilson."

The moment you touch the handle, the door bursts open, almost hitting you on the face. A loud gasp breaks up from your chest as you jump back. "Oh!" A man stops at the doorway, looking at you with shock. "I'm sorry." "It's okay," you croak out. "I'm fine." "Are you here for the job?" "Yes," you nod. "We are finished just now," Sam says. "Steve, let Y/N go on her way. I'm sure she has already fed up with us." Sam's voice is cheeky and humorous as the blond man in front of you steps out of your way to let you leave. "Have a nice day," you tell them again as a goodbye.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you step out of the room before you stop in your tracks. Where did you come from?

"You are a bastard, Sam," Steve says to his friend after the door closes behind him with a soft click. A devilish smile pulls on his lips. "She will wrap Bucky around her little finger within a minute." Steve Rogers knows his best friend and the type of women Bucky likes. And you are just the type. "He deserves it after making fun of me so many times because of Leila." A muffled knock cuts into their conversation before Steve can answer. "Yes?" The blond man opens the door, becoming face to face with you once again. "Did you forget something?" "I..." you clear your throat. "I don't know where the exit is," you confess. Your skin heats up, and the men's laugh doesn't help your embarrassment even though their amusement is not mocking. You don't want to know what they may think of you now. The silly girl can't even find her way out of the building that's bigger than all of the houses she lived in her whole life. "I will show you," Steve offers, looking back at Sam over his shoulder. "We will talk later."

"I'm Steve Rogers, by the way," he introduces himself formally, walking beside you. "Y/N Y/L/N," you reply. "I didn't see your car outside." "I came by bus," you shrug. "Bus?" He asks, surprised. "I will take you home." It's not an offer. It's a statement. "You don't have to," you argue softly anyway. "I'm sure you have more important things to do." "It's fine, Y/N," he smiles at you. His crystal blue eyes gleam under the rays of sunshine filtering through the windows. "Thank you," you reply at the end. Arguing with Steve would probably be futile, so you don't even try it. If he wants to take you home, so be it. You would have to wait for the next bus for an hour anyway.

You are happy the interview is over. Both Sam and Steve seem nice, but you know better than to trust their facade. They are dangerous men, and you still didn't meet with your boss.

Mr. Barnes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mafia au

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twopoppies · 11 months

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I don’t understand why people on twitter said that sweet creature is for gemma, harry said this tonight?

He didn’t say Sweet Creature was for Gemma, as in “I wrote this song about my sister”. He said he was playing it for her tonight. Just like he said he was playing Love of My Life for his friend, Jonny.

“The first time I came to London my sister brought me here (...). I’d like to play a song for her tonight, I haven’t played this one in a while.”

However, antis have always tried to explain the song away as being about her—mainly because of the line “we started, two hearts in one home”.

That doesn’t really explain away the ridiculous horse noises interview in 2017 and why H didn’t just say it was about his sister instead of floundering around for a minute hemming and hawing and blowing raspberries.

Maybe because it’s a very odd song to write about your sister since it so clearly sounds like a love song. And given that it comes right after Two Ghosts right in the middle of the album, they seem to be a pair. And TG really doesn’t sound like it’s about his sister.

Most importantly, given the phrase Sweet Creature is from Othello, one of Shakespeare’s plays, and has long been interpreted through a homoerotic lens, it seems even less likely to be about his sister.

But if they want to think he wrote a love song with a homoerotic twist about Gemma, go ahead.

#Sweet Creature #love on tour wembley 4 #I have no interest in debating this #So please don’t flood my inbox with arguments

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adhd-merlin · 10 months

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Ok so, @destielification asked about my Simon Amstell joke, and I'm not going to hijack poor @centurieslove's post but...

(Sorry, this isn't Merlin-related but it's tangentially about Colin Morgan, so it is at least Merlin-adjacent.)

Simon Amstell, if you didn't know, is a British stand-up comedian and certified weird little man.

I'm not, like, a Simon Amstell fan or anything, but I do like stand-up comedy. And I became aware of Simon Amstell some years ago after watching one stand-up show of his on YouTube, which is Do Nothing, which is still available, in fact, and you should definitely watch if you haven't because it's pretty good.

Now Simon's openly gay, and in Do Nothing he talks a lot about his romantic life, or lack thereof, and he jokes a lot about the type of men he finds attractive, who he describes as "ill-thin", "timid" and "vulnerable".

And one of the funniest bits in the show is one where he recounts an extremely awkward encounter with one such man — an actor Simon had "fallen in love with", despite never having talked to him.

So Simon went to see a play starring this actor in the hope of meeting him afterwards and maybe talking to him a bit, which didn't happen.

What did happen, though, is that a few weeks later Simon randomly bumped into the very same actor, love of his life, in a shop. And he decides there and then that it's destiny, and he must shoot his shot. (You can skip the quote below if you intend to watch the show, but I'm pasting it here because it's hilarious).

I saw him there, he hadn't seen me. He was about a metre away from me. There, that thin. And what I thought... For some reason, what I thought would be really cool and seductive would be to just stand in the middle of the shop and shout his full name. He turned round, alarmed. I could see the terror in his eyes, but because I'd started at a certain volume, I thought it'd be too odd to get any quieter. So I'm there just shouting about the good reviews this play has had and he's going, "Oh, I don't really read reviews." And he's all timid and vulnerable, which is why I love him. And I think the difference between us, because I think we were both quite shy as children... I say, "I think" — I did a lot of research on him.

And that man's name? Ben Whishaw. Apparently.

Look, I have no idea who claimed it first. I don't know if Simon admitted it in an interview at some point, or what. But it became An Established Fact™️ that the actor he was talking about was, indeed, Ben Whishaw. And if you watch Simon Amstell's show, and you know about Ben, well. It tracks. It makes perfect sense, actually.

Anyway, Simon talks to Ben, gives him his email address with some excuse or another. Ben promises to email him. And then, he doesn’t. Cue sad noises from the audience.

And that could have been the end of it, except that Simon, certified weird man, decided to be weird about it. And instead of letting it go, he elaborates his trauma by incorporating it into his writing.

And in case you think I'm exaggerating — here's what Simon himself wrote about it some time after the fact, in his own book. Straight from the horse's mouth.

A year later, the actor was in another play at the Royal Court. So I thought I’d give myself one more go at making him love me. I felt I’d written and performed all the insanity out of my head and was now ready for something real. I believed this because it would have been unbearable to accept that after all that transformative, healing comedy, I was still the same lunatic. (source)

So what Simon did was write a sit-com, in which he played a fictionalised version of himself, and in it he put a character called Ben Theodore, a pretentious theatre actor and also, basically, Ben Whishaw. (Like, if you know Ben Whishaw, you cannot not see it. That's him talking.)

But hang on, you might say, I thought this was going to be about Colin? Why are you going on about Ben Whishaw?

Well, Simon, in case you don't remember (and at this point I hope you don't) is also the writer and director of the film Benjamin (BENjamin), starring Colin Morgan as the lead and title character.

A Colin Morgan who, I might say, has something of a young Ben Whishaw about him. And he doesn't play a pretentious actor this time — in fact he plays a version of Simon Amstell himself — but the fact remains that he's exactly Simon Amstell's type, kind of looks like the man Simon was admittedly obsessed with, and even bears his name. And Simon cast him in his film to play himself, which is weird but also funny and very on brand for him, because he's self-obsessed like that.

So, to come back to my joke — I just thought the idea of Simon Amstell developing an obsessive crush on Colin Morgan and going to see The Tempest specifically to see him and missing him was hilarious.

But he did get to have him in his own film, so.

(I can't censure Simon too much for his obsession with Ben because... well, same, and also it resulted in Simon giving us Colin Morgan looking Peak Gay and serving cunt in Benjamin — in his own accent! — and I'll be forever grateful for it).

here's another post about it

#I'm doing that thing where you dissect a joke like a frog #and it's not funny anymore #but you deserve to know about simon amstell and his obsession with timid thin actors #you'll never be as obsessed with an actor as simon was obsessed with ben #the fact that ben and colin are friends is sending me SJKDFJSLKJ #i didn't even know!!#i still think it'd be funny if colin did a ben whishaw and just went “oh i have a husband actually” some day #it wouldn't even surprise me #do you think simon saw those b&w pictures of those two in pj harvey's studio and started hyperventilating #like i know HE KNOWS about it #simon amstell #colin morgan #ben whishaw #benjamin 2018 #*not merlin

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what-if-queen-camilla · 10 months

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Chapter 19

20th January 1993

Two days had passed and Camilla slowly but surely started to realise that it was not just a nightmare, that she did not have an accident and had fallen into some sort of a coma that kept her trapped in this absolute horror scenario. After she hadn't been able to eat one bite for the first two-and-a-half days following that… unpleasant incident, her basic human needs had finally taken over again and after the first few hours of sleep in days, she had even felt hungry again this morning and managed to eat a bit of porridge. She hadn't left the house and unplugged the telephone on Sunday after it hadn't stopped ringing for a second, even during night time, with all different sorts of horrible people calling, from journalists, who had seriously had the guts to ask her directly for an interview (which she had of course declined), to terrifyingly aggressive "fans" of Charles' wife, screaming the worst of names at her, some even threatening to kill her, to creepy perverts who only made disgusting noises. But the situation had reached another highpoint of cruelty when Monday morning several reporters and photographers had lined up along the driveway and between the trees and bushes in the garden - with obviously no intention to leave again so soon. In complete panic, Camilla had immediately pulled down all the shutters in the entire house and locked all doors twice. They had taken Thea out of school for the week and Andrew had promised to talk to her teacher to make sure they'd be sensitive and look after her when she returned but right now she didn't even know how she'd ever be able to step outside again. She was a prisoner in her own house. At least she had been able to keep it away from Thea as best as possible and her little angel was happy playing with her barbies and horses all day, but she'd surely start to ask further questions soon and she had no idea what she was supposed to tell her. On Monday, she had just told her that Sir and Mummy - of whom she knew that they were best friends - had been sharing a secret which unfortunately had been uncovered by some evil people and that many of them were now very angry with Mummy and they'd better stay at home for a little while until they'd have calmed down again. When Thea had asked what secret Sir and Mummy had been sharing, Camilla had lovingly reminded her that the point of a secret is not to tell anyone and that she therefore couldn't reveal it, but it had broken her heart because both she and Andrew had always been telling the children how important it was to be honest within their family, that they could always trust them and should never be afraid to tell anything because they'd always be behind them and now she was contradicting herself, acting like the complete opposite.

"Mummy, I'm hungry!", Thea said at around lunchtime and Camilla promised to go and make something for her, but opening the fridge she had a hard time finding anything she could offer her daughter. Of course, she hadn't been able to do the shopping in days and there wasn't much left apart from some rice and fish fingers. She had to try and call somebody tonight… Andrew had promised to come over on Saturday but she couldn't wait that long. Nevermind herself, she wasn't very hungry at the moment anyway, but she had a child in the house who needed food. God, what an impossible situation had she managed to get herself into. What had she done to her children, particularly to her youngest daughter who was still too little to grasp the whole thing? What an awful, horrible, terrible mother was she? This realisation hit her like a slap in the face and she felt tears filling her eyes again, but a heavy knocking on the backdoor distracted her from that and almost caused her heart attack. Fuck, who could that be? The press? Some angry supporters of Diana? The knocking became faster and louder and she really felt paralysed with fear. What if someone was going to go after her, or even worse, her poor little daughter who was playing next door? Instinctively, she grabbed a huge pan, hid next to the back door, and finally opened it…

"Milla?!" Fiona looked at her in a mixture of disbelief, shock and worry. Camilla was still paralysed, unable to speak or move or even breath, when suddenly all of her precious, remaining strength faded away, the pan falling out of her hands and onto the floor with an enormous slam, which she ignored, before powerlessly falling into her best friend's arms, desperately sobbing like a wounded animal. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry.", Fiona whispered as she assisted Camilla to sit down on the sofa in the living room. The atmosphere in the house was spooky, there was no daylight with all of the shutters being closed. "Where's Thea, darling?", Fiona asked, knowing that her best friend's greatest concern was always her children. Camilla was still unable to give a proper answer but pointed to the dining room, where her little darling had been playing so well all morning. "Okay, I will just quickly say hello to her and tell her that everything's fine and will be back in a minute.", she promised and was gone. Fiona, Countess of Shelburne, was the second wife of the Earl of Shelburne, known as Charlie to his friends, to whom both Charles and Camilla belonged as well. They had only got married in 1987 but Camilla had known Fiona much longer, she even was Laura's godmother and they saw each other frequently. Their family seat, Bowood House, was just about a 25 minutes drive away from her and Andrew's and, just like the Devonshires, the Shelburnes, too, had always been extremely supportive of them and had hosted them at their home over several weekends... Which had now been exposed to the whole world, as they had actually discussed the possibility of meeting at Bowood in that goddamn phone call from 1989. She didn't even dare ask Fiona whether she and Charlie were facing harassment, too, they most certainly were. "It doesn't matter, sweetie.", Fiona assured her once she had returned. "That's what friends are for. And now… you'll better get some things packed for the two of you. I'm not gonna leave you here, you can't stay. It's not safe. You'll come with me and stay with us for as long as needed." Though she was a few years younger than herself, Fiona had sounded so determined that Camilla didn't dare argue with her. She knew it was pointless. And she knew that her best friend was right. They couldn't stay here. It wasn't safe and safety was and had always been her first priority when it came to her children.

*Side note:

Bowood, family home to the Marquess and Marchioness of Lansdowne, what Charlie and Fiona are known as today, was indeed mentioned in the tapes, however it's not publicly known whether the former Earl and Countess of Shelburne did face harassment for their "involvement" with/support for Charles and Camilla's relationship. I think it's not unlikely though. Fiona has been one of Camilla’s best friends for decades: it's true that she's Laura's godmother and you might remember seeing her as one of two Ladies-in-attendance at Charles and Camilla's coronation in May (pictured below):

#king charles #queen camilla #royal baby #royal family #fanfiction #fanfic

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