#to build out my understanding of the world

[claypgeon]

too sweet | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary; everyone swears you're too sweet for max, but they don't seem to understand that he's just as sweet.

notes: me being happy there's less than a week until school ends, just to remember i start summer school 3 days later 😐

liked by, maxverstappen, jimmyandsassyinsta, redbullracing, and 736,928 others!

yourusername: who wore it best?

view comments below!

user1: SASSYS SO CUTE !!!

user2: no jimmy ??? :(

yoursername: jimmy saw me coming at him and ran faster then i ever thought was possible for cats💔

user3: y/n i love you..but sassy takes this one

user4: this is adorable

maxverstappen1: y/n we've talked about this...

yoursername: BUT SHE JUST LOOKS SO CUTE

user5: max being the buzzkill he always is

georgerussell63: sassy 100%

user6: george being more supportive then max is crazy

jimmyandsassyinsta: i personally think my mom looks better then everyone on planet earth 😻

user7: not y/n commenting on her own post from her cats account

user8: how do you know it's y/n and not max who runs the account ??

user7: max doesn't have the humor to make an entire daily-updated cat instagram...

charles_leclerc: hmmm, this is a hard one

redbullracing; i think i would demolish you both in a cat walk

redbullracing; get it? cat walk

user8: yeah we get it...

liked by 23,738 users!

ynupdates: y/n was heard in the back of max's stream today!

y/n: "Jimmy please!" *loud steps were heard*

max: *laughs* "what's going on back there?"

y/n: "i'm trying to get jimmy to do that, cat paw-print thing, remember?"

max: "mhm, please be careful."

y/n: "always am" *loud thud was heard*

max: *laughing* did you just fall?"

y/n: "…possibly."

view comments below!

user9: the relationship everyone wishes they had

user10: idk i feel like y/n deserves someone nicer then max..

user11: Y/N LOVES THOSE CAT SO MUCH 😭😭

user12: she's not the stepmother, she's the MORHER WHO STEPPED UP!!

user13: i feel like max just doesn't match her energy: (

user14: RIGHT ??? we saw a picture with y/n and lando ONCE and they both looked so happy, He matches her energy so well

user15: no literally, in every picture she's so 😁😁and on a good day he's🙂

user16: she deserves someone who will be 😁😁with her

user17: is it weird to say i would die for y/n ?

user18: no because i would too :(

user19: her jimmy and sassy >>>

liked by, maxverstappen, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 636,928 others!

yoursername; i met someone. life changed.

view comments below!

user20: y/n getting a capybara when ??

yourusername: max's apartment building doesn't allow 'out of the ordinary' animals 🙁

user20: but what if capybaras are ordinary to YOU ???

georgerussell63: where does one find a animal such as this?

yourusername: i won't tell🤫🤫

oscarpiastri: i've been chased by one of those before...

yourusername: of course you have, you're australian 🙄

maxverstappen1: 🐈's better

user21: wow max we love the energy (sarcasm)

user22: i've said this once and ill say it again... y/n deserves someone who will MATCH HER ENERGY!!!

user23: his girl is posted up with a CAPYBARA and all he has to say is THIS ???

user24: he was probably with her when she took these photos ??? what do yall want him to say ???

user25: y/n get a man who matches your energy in 2024!!

user27: yall saying y/n “deserves better” as if she isn’t living the dream as a stay a home cat mom who travels the world ??

user26: #yndeservesmoreenergy

user27: i feel like yall are making this too much of a big deal, max isn't a "declare the love you have for someone on the internet" type of person

user28: then maybe he should be ???

liked by, yoursername, danielricciardo, and 294,628 others!

jimmyandsassyinsta: my beautiful mommy at diner today - Jimmy💙💙

View comments below!

user29: aww 🥹🥹

user30: knowing y/n is posting this herself is so funny ???

user31: when a cat posts y/n more then her own boyfriend...

user32: JIMMY!! when are your parents separating???

user33: tell you father that he needs to treat y/n better

user34: jimmy getting a father that will treat y/n better when ???

user35: y'all in this comment section are WERIDDDD

user36: RIGHT ??? the whole "treat y/n better" is SO WERIDD

user37: y/n looks so cute☹️☹️

danielricciardo: and i wasn't invited? wow.

jimmyandsassyinsta: we don't want you here. - Sassy

user38: y/n is too sweet and kind for mad max

liked by jimmyandsassyinsta, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 583,514 others!

yourusername: @/jimmyandsassyinsta admin hard at work 🐈🐈

view comments below!

user39: NO WAY MAX WAS BEHIND THE ACCOUNT

user40: y/n heard yall were doubting max's love for her and said "he's been posting on a cat account with the sweetest captions for me for the past 3 years 🙄”

user41: miss y/n was sick of the "she deserves better" comments

*liked by yourusername*

jimmyandsassyinsta: jimmy and sassy do NOT approve of this message 😾

yoursername; it was time for the world to know!!

user42: you're telling me max has being @/ jimmyandsassyinsta for THREE YEARS ??

user43: okay wait this is so cute ??

user44: THATS WHY ALL THE CAPTIONS ON THE CAT ACCOUNT ARE ABOUT YOUUU

user45: yeah like "we think mommy looked beautiful at the paddock today."

user46: and "we couldnt have asked for a better mommy"

user47: and "so thankful for our mommy"

user48: and "we love mommy more then words could ever describe"

user49: i'm sobbing

user50: YALL BETTER NOT EVER. AND I MEAN EVER, DENY MAX'S LOVE FOR THIS WOMAN

user51: omg he's being writing love caption for her since they started dating 😭😭

leothelion: omg so cute 🐾❤️

maxverstappen1: so unoriginal leclerc, so unoriginal.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 social media au #f1

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fourteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Discussion of child loss/miscarriage and domestic violence. Oral sex - fem receiving, face sitting, Johnny is a menace as usual, Simon talks you through it, dirty talk, brief daddy kink, pet names. Nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies, feelings of fear and anxiety, PTSD. Dialogue heavy. Bunny making progress. What's in a name?

When you were a child, you got caught in a storm.

Getting caught in a storm as an adult is a normal thing. It’s not frightening and foreign like it is when you’re young. When you’re a child, storms feel like hurricanes. They feel life altering, life ending. With no concept of larger, or smaller storms, it’s hard to understand how you’d make it through the to the other side.

You remember this one vividly. Your mother was on her way to work, her night job, and you were clicked into the backseat, barely awake, staring out the rain pelted window. The wind was so strong it shook the car, blew it all over the road, your mom’s fingers like rebar gripping the wheel. It was terrifying. It was like you’d never be safe, like the wind would pick your entire world up and send it crashing down into a farm field that stretched a million miles long.

It felt, somewhat, like this moment, and hundreds of moments before it. Small thorns in a life that no longer felt like your own. A far cry from the dreams you had when you were that little girl.

The thorns, the storms, had twisted you into this version of yourself, this stranger, and that’s how you feel as you stand in front of Simon, cold panic crackling through your bones.  

Your mouth opens and closes without sound coming out. You’re a fish out of water, lips parting just to swallow dry air, eyes wider than saucers.

Penny cries in your arms, but Simon doesn’t move. Johnny doesn’t breathe, and you stand alone in the silence, baby vomit on your clothes, trembling in fear.

They won’t understand. They’ll know you’re a liar. They won’t trust you. 

They won’t want you.  

“It’s not… I arranged it months ago.” You blurt, words strung together in a stream of consciousness. “It’s not like, you can just go out and buy a new passport. It takes a while, and connections, and lots of hoops and money and I-“ Simon holds his hand up.

A signal to stop.

“Give me the baby.” He says, stepping forward, arms out, and your hands shake as you pass her over, avoiding eye contact until he tips your chin back. “Take a deep breath, go upstairs, get cleaned up. When you come back down, we’ll talk. Okay?” He looks to Johnny, who nods, and then back to you, expectantly waiting on your answer.

“O-okay.”

Simon still has the passport.

It’s in front of his knee, on the coffee table, but within arm’s reach, close enough he could snatch it up in moment’s notice.

“Were ye goin’ to leave us?” Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

“No, I… it takes a while. I arranged it months and months ago, before I even met you.” Simon frowns.

“This is not a fake, it’s a real passport. How did you get it?” Oh, fuck. Your throat is as dry as paper, scratchy and stiff, and you force yourself to spit out a coherent sentence.

“I bought it… from a guy.” Brilliant. You sneak a glance at Johnny, who’s watching with a pink sheen on his cheeks, knuckles white against the arm of the couch. He looks upset, and guilt swamps you, worry over making him feel worse in his state eating away inside your heart.

“You know a guy who can get his hands on government issued documents?” Simon holds himself very still. Nearly a statue, his eyes never leave your face, and you move your hands under your thighs to try to stop their trembling.

There’s a familiar feeling building in your chest. A twisted, gnarled root of fear, growing deep. “I… it’s… no, he’s… I was referred to him, by someone else. He doesn’t even know my real name, I’m careful, I’ve-“

“Done this before.” Simon finishes, and your heart stops in your chest.

“Yes.” You whisper. How are they going to feel when they realize you’ve been lying to them about your name? You spiral, imagining the hurt flashing across their faces, the disappointment from Simon, the sadness from Johnny. “I use a new identity, when I move around.”

“Your name…”

“Isn’t my real one.” The admission stings, but that person doesn’t exist anymore. You haven’t been that happy, fulfilled, carefree girl in too long. You don’t know her. You don’t remember her.

She’s dead.

She’s a ghost.

“Will ye tell us? Yer real name?” Simon is thoughtful from where he sits on the chair, focused, as Johnny looks hopeful. They’re both looking at you with trust heavy in their eyes, and it gnaws, burns in your bones all the way through until your real name is slipping free with a whisper.

“That’s beautiful, bun.” Johnny murmurs sweetly, and they exchange a look, something stern etching across Simon’s brow before it drifts away.

“Do you want us to use it?” You shake your head.

“N-no, I… I’m not that girl… anymore. She’s long gone.” The room is silent, and you mull it over, toss it back and forth in your mind. You’re so disconnected from the person you were when you last felt whole, when you last felt real. How will you ever feel that way again?

Something flickers in Simon’s gaze. Something severe and almost sad, a storm in the middle of a sea, a little boat with nowhere to hide, and you get lost in it, lost in him, a million lives and a million emotions clouding the space between your bodies.

He swallows, and it’s gone.

“How does that work with your nursing license?” You blink, but you’re not surprised he knows to ask the one question that will undoubtedly unravel the rest of the threads. The biggest piece of the puzzle.

“I…” Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Are you doing this? 

Do you trust them? 

It’s not a question now, you know the answer. Know why it is you’ve been sleeping in their bed, helping with their baby, living in their house.

It’s more than trust.

“I had a friend in college. Dean.” You’re really doing this. “He was really smart, and really kind, and going places. We were on different paths, but we stayed in touch. As best we could… my ex didn’t really like me talking to… anyone.” Johnny’s fingers slide across the couch, hesitantly brushing your thigh, and it grounds you, calms you. “He became a fancy, big time lawyer. Like, really big time. One of the best in Texas,” Simon’s eyes narrow, head tilted as he stares at you, before it all flits away, and he returns to stasis, “possibly the country. He… he helped me.” You pause, unsure, and Johnny nods encouragingly.

“Helped ye how?”

“I’ve been running, had been running, for a while. Years. At one point, Dean got a judge in a different state to agree to change my name, my identity, everything, and then seal the record. It gave me a chance to disappear, a fresh start to build from. Or, I thought it did, anyway. My ex is… very determined, it didn’t take long for him to catch up.”

“So, your license…”

“Whenever I get a new job, I refer the HR department to my big fancy lawyer in Texas, and he makes sure my license is accepted and they understand the circumstances. I manage the rest… on my own. The turning over of a new identity- identification documents, passports, housing, everything.”

“Do they know anything about this?”

“No. I think they probably think I’m in witness protection or something, and per the court order, they can’t discuss the discrepancy with the name on the license to anyone in the hospital. Dean makes sure of that.” You laugh weakly, but Simon doesn’t, he only studies you, laser focused. “I can’t really have contact with him anymore, because it leaves too much… out in the open, but he’s a really good friend. The best.” Tears blur your vision as you think about Dean, remembering the way he stared at you the night you turned up on his doorstep.

You were so young then. So stupid. But he gave you best chance he could, and you’d always be grateful.

Johnny reaches for where your hand is shoved beneath your thigh, and lightly tugs until it’s in his grasp, warm and safe.

“An’ ye change yer identity every time?” You nod, lips tucking in over your teeth.

“That’s what the passport is for. In most places, a passport counts for both a birth certificate and identification card, so they don’t ask for a secondary. It’s the easiest to use.”

“You were preparing to run.” Simon murmurs.

“Before Johnny became my patient, I was getting ready to, yeah.”

“Why?” You take a deep breath, but your chest feels too tight. Fear is still dripping down the back of your throat, making your stomach sick, your hands tremble.

“I knew he was here.” The words break apart into a sob, and your eyes slam shut.

The next thing you know, you’re breathing into Johnny’s warm chest, a hand running up and down your back slowly.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” You cry, gasping. “I.. I’m scared all the time. I run all the time. I d-don’t even know who I am, without it. I don’t know how to be here, or be a normal person, or have a normal conversation.”

“Shhh, yer alright, pretty girl. It’s okay.” Johnny hums, and you feel his diaphragm vibrate as he soothes you.

“I want to be with you… but I don’t know how. I’m terrified he’ll come here and- and hurt you, or Penny. That it will be my fault, like everything else has.” You cry harder, chest aching, Simon’s hands closing around your shoulders and pulling you back to tilt your face up to the two of them.

“It’s not your fault, bunny. None of it, ever, has been your fault. Do you understand?” You shake your head no, because you don’t. You’re good at running, at hiding. You’ve made a new life over and over again by doing it, and getting caught is your fault, no matter what they say.

You slipped up. It could happen again. 

“You don’t understand. I… I should have left, after he found me in my apartment. I should have left.” It sticks in your mind, playing over and over again. “I sh-should have left, I shouldn’t be here, I-“ your vision tunnels.

“Okay, okay. Easy, sweetheart.” Simon tries to settle you, but everything is bubbling up and you feel like you’re going to explode, like your skin is too tight, like you’re falling apart, all at once.

There’s nothing left inside of you, nothing left to do.

You break.

Millions of miles of denial and fear and agony splinter, shattering into shards that destroy you from the inside out.

“He’s going to kill me.” Johnny curses something thick as you sob, palm flat over your racing heart. “He t-took everything. He made me into… into this, and it’s only a matter of time. He’s going to find me again, and he… he’s-“ He cups your cheek.

“Shhh, bunny. We’re here, we’re right here.”

“No, he’s not. Listen-“ you try to pull away but Johnny stops you, holding you firm as Simon ducks into your line of sight. “Listen to me. He’s never going to touch you again, do you understand? We will never let him near you, ever again. We promise.”

“You can’t pr-promise that.”  

“We can,” Simon vows, “but… we need to know everything. What we’re looking for, who he is.”

No. You don’t know why, but there’s a barrier around Phillip’s name. Like you can’t force your tongue to make the sound, and you can’t tell them.

If they know, they’ll look for him. They’ll try to find him; you can already tell.

They’ll get hurt, or worse.

You can’t let that happen.

“I can’t.” You whisper. “I can’t.” Johnny pulls you back into his arms, and you curl up against him, his chin on top of your head. They look at one another, long glances you can’t interpret, before Simon takes a deep breath, his hand gentle on your knee.

“Bunny… do you have a child? Someone you’re trying to protect?” Your eyes slip shut, and despair grips your throat like a vice.

“No.” You croak. “No, there would have been one but…” you drag the truth into the light. “I lost it. He didn’t want it so… he got rid of it.” They both freeze.

“Sweetheart.” Simon whispers, Johnny’s arms going rigid, and you shrug, slipping away from this moment, from them.

“It was a long time ago.” You pause, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m fine.” Johnny scoffs.

“The hell ye are. And ye shouldnae be.” You shake between them, exhaustion settling into your bones like it belongs there, and they linger in silence with you, in the moment, letting it stretch long before Simon murmurs something and brushes his fingertips against your cheek.

“We’ll wait, until you’re ready.” You relax with a small sigh. “But if we don’t know who we’re dealing with, that means no more coming and going. I don’t want you outside this house without me, do you understand?”

“I’m going back to work.” You refute immediately.

“When you’re ready to go back, we’ll come up with a plan to keep you safe.” He says sternly, and you swallow, eyes wide.

“We jus’ want to keep ye safe, pretty girl.” Simon tugs your hand into his, and murmurs lowly.

“I know you’re independent, and you’re used to being on your own, but we’re here now. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ve got you.” Tears burn at the corner of your eyes.

You should tell them no, but you can’t.

You should be angry, or nervous, or even scared, but all you can feel is relief.

You don’t have to do this alone.

The house is quiet when you wake up the next morning.

It’s odd now, opening your eyes to an empty bed. All you’ve known for years, is being alone. All you’ve relied on for so long, was yourself.

But now, when your arms and legs spread wide between the sheets and you come up empty, panic flutters in your heart. “Johnny? Simon?” When there’s no answer, you stumble over the side, loping steps hauling you down the stairs and into the living room.

Johnny’s half-awake on the couch in his boxers, flipping idly through television programs. You breathe a little bit easier, and he cracks a smile. “Morning, pretty.”

“Morning.” You bend in front of him, swooping down to press your lips to his. “Where’s…”

“He took Pen to swim. She’s in classes and then has a playdate at a friend’s house after. Busy wee one, our Penny.” Fingers idly rub against the skin beneath his ear, tracing down to his collarbone.

“You eat breakfast?”

“Was waitin’ for ye.” Something dark and hungry glints in his eyes, and your knees go weak.

“Oh, w-well I can make you someth-“

“No.” He traces down the inside of your thigh, where he’s eye level, and then up, backs of his fingers stroking over the front of your panties, thumb skirting along the seam between your legs. “Not hungry for food, bun. Just for ye.”

“O-oh.” His thumb presses, just enough pressure brushing against your clit, and you gasp, hand shooting out to steady yourself on the arm of the sofa, where his head is.

His lips touch to the inside of your wrist, and he grins. “C’mere Bunny.”

“You’re still recovering.” Your fingers twist in the hem of the t shirt you grabbed off the floor, one of theirs.

“My face isn’t.” His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, tugging you closer. “My face is the perfect seat for ye, pretty girl. Let me make ye feel good.” Everything tightens, your chest, your heart, each blood vessel stitched throughout your body. Your clit pulses, knot in your stomach tying so tight it makes you lightheaded, agony and arousal singing together in perfect harmony. It’s a song with perfect pitch, swirling around the two of you in euphoric polyphony.

You want this. Want him. Want to let it all go. 

“Johnny.”

“Got a seat for ye,” his fingers trace over his lip and down his neck, where his throat bobs with a swallow. You can’t pull your eyes away. “Right ‘ere.”

It doesn’t take more coaxing after he tucks his fingers into your underwear and rolls them down your thighs, giving you a light pat just under your ass, shifting and arranging until you’re perched across his shoulders.

“What if you can’t breathe?” Your voice hitches on a panicked note, and he rubs your legs soothingly.

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” You choke. “Just kiddin’ bunny. Ye cannae hurt me, I can breathe just fine.” His eyebrows crinkle and crease, soft expression puckering down to where his lips part.

Let go. You can do it. You want this. Just let go. 

“I- I’m not very good with…” You gulp, chest heaving. “With sex, I uh. I don’t have good memories of it, and I’ve never… I’ve never done this.” It’s the best you can explain, in this moment, and you pray it’s enough, that he’ll understand.

“We’ll go slow.” He promises, still rubbing circles into the backs of your legs, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and thighs, pressing long kisses into your skin. “Ye tell me to stop, if ye dinnae like it or ye want to stop, promise?” You nod. “Say it, pretty girl.”

“I’ll tell you… to stop.” He smiles, and urges you forward, palms still curved around your cheeks.

“Cannae wait to taste ye,” you move slowly, hesitantly, and he encourages gently, patting and rubbing patiently, eyes locked your face the entire time, “have been dreamin’ about it, since that day ye didnae wear any panties to work.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, playfully scandalized, heart trilling. He’s turned a miserable memory, a scary memory, into something not so bad, so easily. It means a lot, means more than you think he knows, and you’re just about to tell him when you feel heat slip across your skin, thumbs stroking down the seam of your cunt. He jerks you forward completely, until the bottom half of his face is missing, and all you can see beneath your legs is a crop of mohawk.

The first touch is heaven. He’s warm, and safe, and you melt onto him, indulging in the feeling of it all. His arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you in place, mouth sloppy against your pussy like he’s trying to devour you whole. You jerk, falling forward at the waist, one hand against the couch, the other fisted in his hair, trying to create space for him to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming you back down, nose bumping against your clit over and over as his tongue dives into you, curling up into your body.

You close your eyes. You need more friction, but you don’t know what to do, don’t know how to get it, and the longer you try to figure it out, the more you’re slipping away, kicking and fighting in darker waters.

Stay present. Stay here. With him. You’re safe. Let go. 

Your breath stutters in your chest. Two factions fight one another, one trying to catapult you towards an orgasm faster than you’ve ever gotten there in your life, and the other, trying and failing to stem the memories and anxiety that bleed freely from your brain. The pleasure is mixed with pain, with nightmares, and your muscles turn to rock, eyes slamming shut.

A big, warm hand settles between your shoulder blades.

You jolt away from it, but when your eyes snap open-

You see Simon.

He’s on his knees at your side, part of your thigh now pressed against his chest. He watches you intently, sweeping over your features and down to where you’re sitting on Johnny’s face, half relaxed, half coiled tense.

“You’re in control, sweetheart.” Even kneeling, he’s tall enough that he’s nearly eye level with you, and Johnny’s free hand searches for him when he hears his voice. Simon gives him a squeeze, and then lovingly strokes some of his hair from his forehead. “Our sweet boy just wants to make you feel good. Do you want that?”

“Y-yeah.. but I don’t… I don’t know how.” You squeak, burning with embarrassment, still clutching the couch. He pulls that hand free, into his, and rubs a thumb over the back of your knuckles, before placing it back against the armrest. It’s comforting, and reassuring, and he keeps the other one anchored at your back.

“Just relax.” He murmurs above your ear, now cradling your hips. “Hold onto the couch with both hands, like that- good girl.” His grip tightens, and then slowly, he starts to move you. “Find what feels good, take your time.” You roll your hips slowly, looking for the right amount of pressure, the friction you’re desperate for, and Johnny moans beneath you, his own hips flexing. “There you go, does that feel good?” Simon’s eyes are nearly black, and you nod hungrily. “Ride him just like that, don’t stop.”

“Oh my god.” You moan, tilting back. Each time Johnny’s nose or tongue rubs against your clit it’s like lightning striking in your blood, and warmth crackles around you like a blanket.

“Fuck,” Simon growls, palm pressing against your lower belly. “Look a’ the two of you, all mine.” The possession shivers across your skin and you moan, head heavy. Johnny’s tongue finds your rhythm, and then he’s flicking across your clit like he’s plucking a string, a perfect note.

“Johnny, ah…” He groans something in response, the vibration shooting straight to your brain. You tip to the side, face pressing into Simon’s neck, and he supports your weight, keeping a hand on your hip, now spread over where Johnny holds you. You're in a frenzy now, panting, chasing, rough pace only increasing with desperation.

“Good girl, rubbing your little pussy all over our sweet boy’s face. Is he going to make you cum? Can you show daddy how pretty you are when you cum?” Daddy. The word makes you dizzy, strikes you dumb. Simon’s lips press to the crown of your head, and all you can do is gasp and whine, hips jerking across Johnny’s nose and mouth, slick, lewd noises coming from between your legs.

“Oh, oh- fuck,” you gasp, fingers now tightening in Johnny’s hair, electricity sparking through your muscles like fireworks, “I’m gonna- I’m-“ You drag yourself across him, chasing the edge of oblivion, white light crackling behind your eyes as you clench them shut with a near shout. Your orgasm shoots through you, exploding every cell in your body into star light, everything heating together as your eyes roll backwards and your hips shake. Johnny grunts, still anchoring you down onto him, aftershocks rattling through your bones to your teeth. Simon pries him lose, keeping a hand on you, and him, as he pulls you back to reveal Johnny’s face.

He's soaked. Neck, chin, cheeks, stubble all coated in you, and your eyes goes wide, wicked pleasure at the sight curling in the pit of your stomach.

You did that. Your boy.

Simon chuckles like he’s reading your mind, tucking you into his chest before pulling you free and placing you in the space next to Johnny on the couch, laying down. He kisses him slowly, softly, running his tongue over his cheeks before returning to dip back into his mouth and pulling away. “Stay, ‘m gonna go get a towel to clean you both up.” He says quietly, kissing your nose before rising and slipping off into the kitchen. Johnny tries to tug you closer.

“How was that?” You can hear the smug smile and his face as he breaks the silence, and your cheeks burn.

“Really good.”

“Hmph, I was shooting for amazing, so I guess we’ll just have to try again.”

“That’s not… it was!” He laughs, and then gives you a half hug with his good arm.

“Ye were perfect, bunny. We’re so lucky to have ye.” Tears burn and threaten to spill.

“I’m the lucky one.” You whisper, and you don’t know if anything could be truer. It’s more than luck now, more than a chance meeting, a chance occurrence. It’s something bigger, something all consuming, something stronger than anything you’ve ever known.

Something bright, like the sun.

Something like… love. 

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny soap mactavish

[seat-safety-switch]

You've heard of range anxiety, of course. Lots of folks upset about how many miles their theoretical electric car can "do," when they haven't left their city for sixteen years. What my neighbours have to be worried about is strange anxiety, which is to say all the bullshit I stole when the abandoned Tesla factory's fence got cut by those raiders.

Back in the day, hot rodders used to build their cars out of leftover military gear. Once World War II was over, nobody wanted all these cool machines lying around, and the governments of the world had not yet invented China to send their garbage to. Belly tanks. Supply truck axles. Superchargers. All this glorious stuff was just free for the gettin', and gettin' the newly-minted middle class did, stuffing it into their weird shitboxes and then driving around with way too much power and too little understanding of mortality. So it is today.

You see, everything in the entire world has a lithium-ion battery in it. Vapes. Flashlights. Those boxes at the mall that shock people back to life who had a heart attack at the cost of grapes. And folks just chuck this stuff into a pile when something small happens: maybe they don't like the colour anymore, a thinner version came out, or it had a little tiny eenie-weenie baby fire. All those good batteries, these power-dense miracles that would have been science fiction a decade ago, just going to waste.

All this is to say when you see me blowing down the street in a hacked-up Model T, above three Tesla axles, with the rumble seat entirely stuffed with bodge-wired vape batteries, make sure to at least admire the amount of work that went into making all this garbage usable again. And, if it's not too much of a problem for you, please make sure to buy fire extinguishers that are electrical-safe. None of that hose shit anymore, please, it just spreads the flames. We're in the future.

[dogw1tch]

Escapism 🍂

18+ Minotaur x Gender Neutral Reader

(Size difference, Breeding, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch Notes: Thank you guys for the love on my last story! It makes me so happy to know people are enjoying my work :) this one has a little more build up but it might call for multiple chapters?

Summary: The library is off limits after dark but knowledge waits for no one. Besides, reading mythology is much more immersive at night. So immersive, in fact, that the breath on the back of your neck feels very, very real.

You had been crouching behind the bookshelf for so long now your legs were starting to loose feeling. Finally, though, the university librarian had finished making his checks and began turning out the lights. He was an anxious looking man in his thirties and you felt a little bad deceiving him like this- after all, it was him that had given you the book in the first place. But the tome was a relic that couldn’t leave the library to be read in your dorm room and you were so desperate to finish it. So, since stealing seemed a bit dramatic, you would have to settle for trespassing. You heard the large wooden door echo closed and dragged yourself from your hiding place, book still clutched to your chest. Your eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness as you dug around in your pocket for your lighter. Slivers of moonlight through the window seemed to die in the shadows of the towering book cases. They looked almost identical to the grand towers of the university in the darkness and the chill in the air gave you the feeling of walking through the streets at night.

Lighter in hand, you slowly navigated the corridors to find your much beloved reading corner and lit the candles you had left there. The little corner of light looked so cozy and you smiled as you gathered yourself up in the blanket you had bought and settled down in the old armchair with your book. The title ‘Portentum Complexus’ was embossed in gold into deep red leather. Much of the writing was still in the original Latin and you had been taking your time to carefully translate. However there were passages written in English, seemingly added by a scholar years later as well as beautiful etched illustrations. From all of these pieces, you had managed to put together a tale of a strange beast, roaming the land to find his lost lover. There had been a great war between worlds and the beast was trying to bring life back to his realm. Though the creature was described as being a hulking monster, triple the size of any man, covered in corse hair, obsidian black horns and pointed hooves; he still had a gentle feel about him. There was a sadness in the Latin passages that didn’t seem to properly translate into English. Perhaps that was why previous scholars hadn’t bothered to do so. But you poured over them, wanting to find the words to understand this creature who everyone, bar the monsters of his realm, was so afraid of. Your heart hurt for him a little; after all, he was looking for his love, he must feel so alone.

So this was how you intended to spend your night, curled up on the moth bitten armchair reading about lamenting fictional creatures. University was certainly the right choice. You flicked to the last English passage you had been studying. The beast had been captured by a human army and, not wishing to harm them by fighting back, had ended up bound by thick ropes in the king’s dungeon.

‘The corse binding bit into his soft flesh as he cried out into the empty corridors. He cried for his love, for his mate. He cried for them to find him in this cold and lonesome maze. His sorrow echoed from the cold stone and surrounded him.’

A sudden noise broke you from your immersion. It sounded like the lowing of cattle, strange since you were in the city centre. It was quickly replaced by the constant groaning of the ancient building before you could pay it much mind. The library was surprisingly noisy at night.

‘The beast cried until his throat was horse and even the reflection of his own voice left him alone. He feared he was to die here in the darkness. He spoke a silent prayer to the gods that his love might be safe. His chest heaved against its restraints as the monster resigned himself to his fate.’

Again came that noise, closer now, and sounding more laboured. You looked around but saw nothing in the darkness. Your mind must be playing tricks, you knew you shouldn’t really be here after all.

‘Movement. Movement in the darkness. The beast stirred and strained to see who approached him. Staring, wide eyed and loving through the bars of his captivity there stood…’

The words cut off back into Latin. You sighed and contemplated packing in for the night, translating seemed a tiresome chore at this hour. But something kept you going, call it intellectual curiosity. You needed to know what happened to the monster you had grown so fond of. Slowly but surely, word by word, you uncovered each sentence.

‘His love. His love had come to rescue him. They picked at the lock and made their way inside. The beast stared in disbelief. After all this time, all this searching, his love had been the one to find him. They approached with caution, unsure whether they recognised their mate after all these years. “Please, do not be afraid my heart, it is me.”’

The voice startled you. You read the words but they seemed to come from behind you. You turned again but again saw nothing but empty corridors through towering shelves. Perhaps your love of escapism had just left you with a very vivid imagination.

‘His love came forward, running their hands over the restrains that bound their lover. With a deft hand and a sharp blade, they began to cut through the rope. The beast sighed in relief as the pressure on his chest was released.’

The back of your neck tingled as a warm gust of air blew through the library. You could not shake the feeling you were being watched now but the story had you too gripped to care.

‘Like felled serpents, the ropes lay limp on the stone floor and the beast rose up from his stupor. He towered above his lover but they were not afraid. They knew he could not hurt them nor anyone else. They were bound together by fate and they would always find their way back to one another.

“My love. My heart. Please, I have craved for you endlessly. Let me hold you and make you mine once more.”’

Without warning you were pulled into a sudden embrace that knocked the air from your lungs. In your confusion, you did not even scream as large hands pulled you bodily from your chair. You were suddenly being held against a wall of corse fur, inhaling the bitter sweet of hay and sweat. You look up to see, towering over you in the candle-kissed half light, a great Minotaur.

He held you flush to his soft, strong chest as though you weighed nothing at all. His breath was hot on your skin and as a rough, black tongue ran up your neck making you shiver. “My mate…” The creature’s voice was low and surrounded you just as fully as his embrace, “How I’ve longed for this.” With one sweep of his arm, the Minotaur sent your books and papers fluttering to the ground. You had to crane your neck to gaze up at him as he placed you down on the desk; his dark eyes bore into you with such deep lust that you couldn’t help a pang of arousal coursing through your body. Nobody had ever looked at you this way. The great beast stood tall over you, taking in your body like he wanted to consume every part. You felt then, something hot and heavy resting next to your thigh. Your face flushed red and you had to look away for a moment, suddenly finding yourself embarrassed as the obscenity of the situation dawned on you. The creatures cock was longer than your thigh and just as thick. It made sense with the rest of his towering form but you were suddenly feeling very exposed under the beast’s hungry glare. He seemed to notice your hesitation and cupped your face in his palm, tilting your head to look at him. “Do you fear me?” Despite it all, you shook your head. Embarrassed? Yes. But not afraid.

“I shall endeavour to be as gentle as I can. You are to bear my calfs after all, it is my duty to treat you well.”

Before his words could register, the creatures head was between your thighs. He had ripped away the fabric there and his thick, rough tongue was lapping at your folds like a man starved. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips as you threw back your head. Your thighs clenched around his head, seemingly spurring him on. His tongue began to push deeper, curling inside you and igniting every nerve in your body. A single finger, large enough that you could wrap your hand around it, began to toy with your clit, rolling in gentle circles as you struggled to hold back wanton moans. He seemed to revel in the sounds you made, thrusting his tongue deeper inside with every whine of pleasure until you were rocking your hips desperately against his snout.

You were sure you were about faint from the overwhelming sensation of it all when the creature finally pulled his head back to see his work. You were a drooling mess against the table, slick and stretched open all for him. Still not open enough to take him inside you. A chuckle echoed above you, as though he had read your panicked look. “No, not here. Once we are home, my love, I will have you completely. But for now…” He picked you up with one hand around your waist, the other positioning his cock beneath you. “For now I have other ways to fill you.”

He began pulling you up his length, fucking in between your thighs and coating himself in your slick. He groaned deeply as he used your body to pleasure himself as if you truly belonged to him alone. You couldn’t help but let out your own whimpers of pleasure as your clit rubbed against his rough skin, getting wetter with every thrust. You found yourself wishing he were inside you, his scent, his growls, it all seemed so right, so familiar and you wanted to belong to this great beast that had captured you. You pressed your thighs together as tight as you could as he man-handled like you were nothing more than a toy made just for him. “That’s it, just like that..” he groaned. The muscles under the creature’s soft belly tightened and you knew he was close. “When we’re home I’m going to keep you full every minute of the day. I’ve spent too long without you. I’m going to hold you on my cock and fill you with my calfs until you’re stretched and moulded to my shape. No one else will be able to have you. You’re mine.” Without warning, he pinned you back to the desk and pressed his engorged tip against your entrance, stretching you around him. He let out a deep, echoing growl as he released inside you, filling you so much that you felt his cum leaking out of you and down your thighs.

The Minotaur didn’t seem satisfied to let this happen. He ran his fingers over your thigh and pushed the residue back inside you, fucking it deep into your stomach. You cried out with each thrust of his fingers, rocking your hips and riding out your waves of pleasure. It felt so good to be full of him.

You stayed there a while as he kissed and lapped at your skin, nuzzling into your neck and plugging you full with his fingers. He mumbled under his breath sweet nothings about how he would take you home, back where you belong. How he would keep you full and satisfied in every way. How you would give him such strong and beautiful young. How life would be so sweet now that his mate had been found. You tried to focus on his words, but they bought such a familiar peace that you found yourself lulled into sleep, breathing him in as you snuggled into his warm fur.

“That’s it my love, rest now. I will find you again soon”

***

It was the librarian who found you in the morning. He had gotten some idea of what was going to happen that night but was honestly surprised by the sheer amount of fluid involved. He tried his best to keep his eyes shut as he threw your blanket over your body and placed you back in your reading chair. The book he had lent you was open on the floor, displaying an etching of the Minotaur and his lover in an intimate embrace. The librarian quickly pushed it shut, not wanting to be anymore invasive into your private life. He thought about waking you, there were so many things he needed to tell you before the creature came back to claim his mate. But for now, you looked so peaceful.

He locked the library door, flipping the sign to closed and letting you get your rest.

DogWitch notes: a part two may be in order if you like??

#monster x reader #monster nsft #monster imagine #nsft #monster smut #monster fucker #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #monster x human #size difference #smut #minotaur

[khaylin27]

loml

pairing: carlos sainz x norris reader; oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader

series: the tortured poets department

synopsis: after leaving y/n norris at the alter, he sees how she heals and builds the life that she's always wanted for herself with another driver. he realizes that he lost the love of his life because he thought he would win a world championship with ferrari. ultimately, he lost the love of his life and is getting replaced by lewis hamilton.

warnings: infidelity; depression; mentions of sex

author's note: you guys kept asking about carlos' pov so here it is! this might be the last fic for this little series. if you want more content from this series please put it in my 'ask me anything' tab!

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing Back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway

The day that Carlos left Y/N at the alter, he decided to waltz back into his favorite bar in Madrid. Every time Carlos and Y/N had come home to visit his family, he would make an excuse about 'hanging out with friends' but he was really hooking up with rekindled flames from the past.

"Hola Carlos, ¿qué haces aquí hoy? Pareces muy disfrazado. ¿Fuiste a una boda o algo así? Hey Carlos, what are you doing here today? You look all dressed up. Did you go to a wedding or something?" The pretty bartender that he's hooked up with before asks Carlos. She knows him so well that she makes him a drink.

"Sí, dejé mi propia boda. Yeah, I left my own wedding." Carlos says as he chugs down his alcohol then asks for another round.

"¡Te fuiste de tu propia boda! You walked away from your own wedding!" The bartender exclaims as she passes him another round of his drink "¿Qué pasó? Pensé que ella iba a ser la indicada ya que ustedes dos estuvieron juntos durante años. What happened? I thought she was going to be the one since you two were together for years"

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed I felt aglow like this Never before and never since

"Fue mi culpa. Pensé que sería mejor estar seguro que tener los ojos estrellados. Yo quiero ganar el Campeonato del Mundo con Ferrari mientras ella quiere casarse y formar una familia. No quiero eso. It was my fault. I thought I would be better safe than starry eyed. I want to win World Champion with Ferrari while she wants to get married and start a family. I don't want that." Carlos explains to the bartender as he finishes another drink.

The bartender takes his empty glass. "Bueno, ella te dio unbrillo que ninguna otra puta podría darte. Well she gave you a glow that no other whore could ever give you." She gives Carlos yet another round.

Carlos understood what she meant. Y/N had given him aglow of life that he's never had before and he's pretty sure he won't have it after this.

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary You and I go from one kiss to gettin married

Every night after leaving Y/N at the alter, Carlos' dreams give him glimpses of his relationship with Y/N. From him meeting Y/N for the first time at the McLaren office and finding out that she was his teammate's sister.

"Carlos, this is my sister, Y/N." Lando introduces Y/N to Carlos. "Y/N, this is my teammate, Carlos." Y/N smiles at Carlos.

"Hello Carlos, it's nice to meet you. I'll be around a lot since Lando always needs a baby sitter." Y/N and Carlos laugh at her joke while Lando was being pouty about it.

"It's nice to meet you too Y/N. I understand that Lando needs a baby sitter from time to time." Carlos looks at Lando and sees his pouty face. "Hey fix your face compañero buddy, your best friends are getting along."

"I don't like when my best friends pin against me." Lando jokes about them. "I hope it's not like this all the time."

"Maybe, maybe not. We'll see." Y/N smiles mischievously at Carlos and leaves to Lando's office to get work done.

****

After a couple weeks of seeing Y/N at the office, Carlos decided to make the first move with Y/N. He invited her on a date at nice restaurant in London. During the date, you guys talked about your childhoods, aspirations, and dreams.

"What's your biggest dream?" Carlos asks Y/N.

Y/N finishes taking a sip of her white wine. "Well my dream is to get married and start a family. I've always wanted that growing up. Hopefully the love of my life will come soon." Y/N lets out a breathy laugh.

Carlos hums at your response. "Maybe I'm the love of your life." He jokes.

Y/N gets up from her seat and moves to Carlos. "Maybe." She kisses him as a response. "Maybe we'll go from one kiss to gettin married."

Little did he know that they didn't.

You Holy Ghost, you told me I'm the love of your life

You said I'm the love of your life

About a million times

When Covid lockdown happened, Carlos and Y/N decided to take their relationship to the next level by moving in together. Only certain people knew about their relationship including Lando. One day, McLaren had asked Y/N to do a zoom interview with Will Buxton asking about your life.

"Hello Y/N! How are you doing?" Will asks as zoom starts recording Y/N's interview.

"I'm doing okay Will. Trying my best during the covid lockdown. How are you?" Y/N smile at the camera. Carlos was behind Y/N's computer while Y/N was doing her interview.

"I'm doing okay as well. Thank you for asking Y/N. We've set up this interview to get to know you better as a person. The fans only know you as 'Lando's sister and travel buddy.' So please tell us your story."

"Well Lando is my younger brother so I always took care of him ever since I was three. My family and I have always supported his F1 career. When my parents couldn't go support him during his karting and junior days, I would always go and support him. Once he got the opportunity to join Formula 1 with McLaren, he asked me to join him. So I left my job and decided to follow him around the world." Y/N explains her story to Will.

"That's amazing to hear." Will flips another questionnaire card. "So Y/N rumors around the paddock are saying you're with a certain Spanish driver." Y/N looks behind the camera and sees an intrigued Carlos listening to Will. "Is it true?"

"Yes, the rumors are true." Y/N smiles at the camera then to Carlos. "I'm so happy that we met through McLaren. He's the love of my life."

"Are you quarantining together during this lockdown?"

"Yes we are." Y/N laughs and gets Carlos' attention to come into the camera. "Say hi to Will babe."

Carlos pulls up a chair next to Y/N and says hi to Will. "It's good to see you Carlos. I know this is Y/N's interview but the viewers want to know about your relationship with her."

"Well, Y/N and I met through McLaren and Lando. She was my office crush at headquarters until I had the guts to ask her out. From there we both confessed that we had feelings for each other. She tells me I'm the love of her life about a million times a day." Y/N smiles at Carlos and gives him a kiss.

Who's gonna tell me the truth When you blew in with the winds of fate And told me I reformed you

Who knew that the winds of fate would ruin Carlos and Y/N's relationship? Once Carlos moved to Ferrari, he developed a slight drinking addiction to numb the pain of leaving McLaren. Carlos was was slowly fading away from Y/N because she would always remind him about what he had in McLaren.

Carlos can tell that he reformed Y/N from what she used to be. She would go out to every event he went to at his time in McLaren, but now she never got invited to Ferrari events.

Since Y/N wasn't invited to Ferrari events, he would start hooking up with the ladies invited to the event. Then when he got home, he would wake up Y/N from her sleep to have sex with her.

Who was going to tell Y/N the truth about Carlos' affairs?

When your impressionist paintings of Heaven Turned out to be fakes Well, you took me to hell, too

When Y/N got invited to a Ferrari event, she had found Carlos drunk and hooking up with a lady at the event. She left the event by herself while Carlos was still hooking up with other ladies. Once Carlos comes home, drunk, he asks Y/N to have sex.

"No Carlos." Y/N says as she tries to go back to sleep.

"Why not hermosa? beautiful You looked so pretty in that dress you wore?" Carlos peppers her arm and back with kisses trying to get her in the mood for sex.

"Carlos stop. I'm pissed off at you right now." She sits up and looks at him. She could tell he was drunk because he didn't care that you were crying. "I'm pissed off that I spent so much of my youth on you. We left the only place that we were happy at thinking it was better for you but it wasn’t. Only for you to hookup with a whore at an event while I was there. What happens when I’m not there? Is that why Ferrari doesn’t invite me to anything??"

"I'm sorry hermosa. beautiful It’s just been emotionally draining after the past couple of months." He hugs her.

"I know it's been but you're not helping if you keep doing this." As Y/N wipes her tears she then add. "I thought this move would be better for both of us. Remember how we dreamed of getting married and starting a family?"

"That's not my dream Y/N, that's your dream. My dream is to be World Champion and I won't let any distractions get in my way." That was like a slap in the face when Carlos told her this. It's like the impressionist paintings of the life they've talked about turned fake.

****

After the night of the Ferrari event, Y/N decided to not go to Ferrari events and the garage. During the 2021 of the Russian Grand Prix, Lando had spun and grazed the wall on one of his laps that caused him to not win the Russian Grand Prix. Carlos on the other hand got podium that day. Instead of celebrating with Y/N, he decided to party and hookup with more whores.

“Why the hell weren’t you with me celebrating my win?” Carlos yells at Y/N while she's sitting on the couch just staring at him.

“Didn’t think you needed me since that whore was wrapped around you.” Y/N saw the photos that F1 gossip accounts were posting on Twitter about him.

Carlos looks at her with frustration. “I’m sorry hermosa beautiful but I needed to let off the excitement .” Y/N roles her eyes at his response.

“‘Let off the excitement’ you have a girlfriend at home waiting for you.” Y/n explained to him.

“Well you should’ve been around me instead of that girl.” He says putting the blame back on Y/N.

“I was taking care of my brother. Your best friend that could’ve won today but didn’t. At least try to comfort your best friend instead of having whores going around you.”

“I swear ever since that night, you’ve just abandoned me and everything we’ve built.”

Y/n laughs at what Carlos says, “you’re saying I’ve abandoned you and everything we’ve built. Oh honey, I’m just going down with it.”

Y/N knuckles are turning white as she was clenching the pillow so she wouldn’t cry in front of him. “I’m leaving to London to be with Lando. Fix whatever is going on with you to fix this relationship.” Y/N knew deep down that Carlos resented her for what she said that night.

Carlos took put her through hell in their relationship.

If you know it in one glimpse It's legendary What we thought was for all time Was momentary

2024

The 2024 season started back up at the beginning of March at the Bahrain Grand Prix. Carlos had heard rumors that Y/N was back in the paddock with her boyfriend. Carlos didn't know who Y/N's new boyfriend was until he saw her talking with Alexandra.

Carlos and Charles walk up to Alex and Y/N. This was the first time they'll be seeing each other physically before the failed wedding. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?" Charles asks.

"I'm doing very well. Alex was telling me you guys are getting baby dachshund in a few weeks." Carlos was staring at Y/N because she had this glow that she once had at the beginning of their relationship. Y/N just ignores Carlos and pays attention to her conversation with Alex and Charles.

Alex tells Charles about what she said about the baby dachshund. "We're excited about starting our family by adding Leo." Charles smiles while talking about his baby dachshund. "But one day, we'll start our own human family."

'I'm happy for you guys for starting a family." Y/N smile at them. "I've always wanted to start a family of my own. Right Carlos?" Y/N asks him since he was listen to the conversation as well. Carlos was too stunned to speak. He used to remember the times he and Y/N would talk about getting married and starting a family.

While Carlos was reflecting on the past, two drivers wearing papaya colored race suits join the conversation. "What are we talking about?" Lando asks.

"We were talking about Charles and Alexandra starting a family by them getting a dog." Carlos says completely ignoring Y/N's question. He notices Oscar back hugging Y/N while she was listening to the conversation. I guess Y/N's new boyfriend is Lando's rookie teammate. She has a type, McLaren men.

"I'm getting a nephew! I thought Y/N would give me on before you Charles." Lando says jokingly to the group. Everyone except for Carlos laughs at Lando's joke.

"One day we'll give you a nephew or niece mate." Oscar says to the group then looks at Y/N. "Let me put a ring on her finger and get tied to her first before that." Carlos notices Y/N's smile at what Oscar says. He missed when she smiled at him like that.

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery Never quite buried You cinephile in black and white All those plot twists and dynamite

After Carlos got his appendix removed and won the Australian Grand Prix, he never expected the news that came from f1news instagram account. It was photos of Y/N and Oscar's wedding that they had in Australia. This was a plot twist that was ready to explode like dynamite for him.

He didn't know how to feel seeing Y/N finally getting married to none other than Oscar. His feelings for her were still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried.

He saw black and white that night as he decided to get wasted in an Australian club and hooking up with whores.

f1news HEARTBREAK SEASON FOR CARLOS SAINZ: After the Ferrari driver's first win of the season, he finds himself at a club after the news broke that his ex fiancé, Y/N Norris, got married to McLaren driver, Oscar Piastri days after his win. It doesn't help that he doesn't have a driver seat for next year since Ferrari has decided to sign 7 time World Champion, Lewis Hamilton.

user1 KARMA IS A BITCH HAHAHA

user2 carlos left y/n at the alter in july 2022, now she's happy and married with oscar. carlos is missing out on the life he could've had.

user3 so long carlos 👋 our girl is in her happy married era

You talked me under the table Talking rings and talking cradles I wish I could un-recall How we almost had it all

After the intense race for Lando in Emilia Romagna, Carlos decided to visit Lando in his private room. "Lando where are you?"

Lando opens the door wide to let the Spanish driver in, "What's up Carlos?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on getting 2nd. It was one hell of a fight." He smiles at Lando until he looks around and is confused what's going on. "Why are you guys here?" Asking Charles and Alexandra.

Alexandra, happy for some reason he didn't know says, "Y/N is pregnant. Isn't it exciting?"

"It is," Carlos notices pregnancy glow radiating off you. "Oscar was so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby girl. As soon as we told Lando about the gender, him and Oscar were online shopping on the couch together." Carlos notices how happy Y/N was talking about her pregnancy to Alexandra.

"My niece needs to have the best of the best. Oscar and I were looking at the McLaren merch to see if the factory can make baby versions of it." Carlos didn't care what Lando was saying because all of his attention was on Y/N.

He remembered when he would talk about rings and cradles with Y/N during the pandemic. He wishes he could un-recall how he almost had it all. Instead of him wrapping his arms around her midsection. Oscar's hands were wrapped around her and her midsection. "Carlos are you listening?"

"Yeah," Carlos coughs. "Congrats on your pregnancy Y/N and Oscar." Carlos says and leaves the McLaren room sad about what he could've had.

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire Your arson's match your somber eyes And I'll still see it until I die You're the loss of my life

It was the end of the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles had won the race, Oscar was in second place, and Carlos got third. As Carlos was getting out of his car, he sees Oscar running to you giving you hugs and kisses. The cameras were on the two of you since this was your first time showing your baby bump in public. Tears were threatening to fall off Carlos' eyes as he sees Oscar knelling down to kiss your baby bump. He was seeing the field of dreams he once reserved for you now engulfed in fire.

Carlos rubs his somber eyes and heads to the podium before the media sees him. Carlos watches the McLaren team plus Lando, lift Oscar away from Y/N so that he can get to the podium. From there you guys are received your trophies but Carlos' eyes were on you smiling happily at your husband. Once the national anthems were played, the drivers sprayed each other with champagne. Carlos couldn't care less about his win because he lost the love of his life.

****

Once Charles was done with his post race interview, the interviewer starts talking to Oscar. "Congrats Oscar on your first podium of the season and becoming a father soon. It's amazing how these two happened weeks apart."

"Thank you for the congratulations. From getting married at my home country, to finding out we'll be having a baby girl, to now getting my first podium of the season. I'm truly on a high with life right now." Oscar smiles at the camera knowing that Y/N always watches the post race interviews.

"Right now McLaren is in 3rd place for constructor's standings compared to last year's standings at 6th place. Tell me what you and Lando are doing for the team." The interviewer asks.

"Well Lando has been on a winning streak getting podiums after China but to be honest we're not doing anything different. It's all my wife's doing. I joke with her that she's like heroin but this time with an 'E' at the end." Everyone except for Carlos in the room laughs at Oscar's little joke.

"And soon you're going to be having a baby girl." Charles adds to the conversation. "You'll have two lucky charms on track." They both smile at the interviewer before they move on to Carlos' interview.

"Carlos, how are you feeling after being third on the podium today?" The interviewer asks Carlos.

Carlos rubs his somber eyes before talking, "It's okay. It's another win but I'm happy that Charles got first at his home race." Carlos said caring less about the interview.

"How do you feel about seeing your ex fiancé happy in her marriage with Oscar and soon to have a baby girl on the way?"

Carlos takes a deep breath and looks at the camera knowing Y/N is watching. "Things didn't work out for me and Y/N but I'm very happy for them." Carlos looks at Oscar and gives him a smile. It wasn't a genuine smile but like they say 'fake it till you make it.'

"Thank you Carlos." Oscar says while Charles leaves to jump into the Monaco harbor. "I'm exhausted." Oscar extends his feet on the couch while Carlos does the same.

The moment of peace didn't last long because Y/N walks in, "Come on love, your daughter wants gelato." Carlos notices the soft smile on Y/N's face.

"I'm coming honey," Oscar gets off the couch and walks to Y/N. "Are you sure your daughter is the one wanting gelato or is it you?" Oscar jokes with Y/N.

"Maybe both." Y/N laughs before kissing Oscar. "Either way I want LEC gelato so I can support your Monegasque genes." They both laugh at the joke the media has made during the week of the race.

As Y/N and Oscar walk away out of the room, Carlos realizes that Y/N was the loss of his life.

f1news EX FIANCE AND NOW HUSBAND ON THE PODIUM TOGETHER AFTER THE MONACO GRAND PRIX: Carlos Sainz, Y/N Piastri's ex fiancé, was seen relaxing on the couch with Oscar Piastri, Y/N's husband. The two were taking a break after the intense race before Y/N came in asking her husband for LEC gelato ice cream.

user1 this was so awkward to watch 😭

user2 oscar getting up as soon as y/n asked oscar for lec gelato 🥺

user3 y/n supporting monegasque genes by asking for lec gelato. i love the piastri-leclerc family so much 🥹😭

user4 their baby girl is gonna love charles giving her lec gelato once she's able to have some 🥺

user5 carlos was basically third wheeling in their convo 💀

****

A/N: that's it everyone 😭 thank you for supporting this mini series from the tortured poets department. now it's time to work on the actual stories on ttpd. if you want more content from this story please don't be afraid to ask on my 'ask me anything' tab.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3

#f1 #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz #lando norris #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles lecrelc #monaco gp 2024

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Emil Ferris’s long-awaited “My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book Two”

NEXT WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Seven years ago, I was absolutely floored by My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, a wildly original, stunningly gorgeous, haunting and brilliant debut graphic novel from Emil Ferris. Every single thing about this book was amazing:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/06/20/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-a-haunting-diary-of-a-young-girl-as-a-dazzling-graphic-novel/

The more I found out about the book, the more amazed I became. I met Ferris at that summer's San Diego Comic Con, where I learned that she had drawn it over a while recovering from paralysis of her right – dominant – hand after a West Nile Virus infection. Each meticulously drawn and cross-hatched page had taken days of work with a pen duct-taped to her hand, a project of seven years.

The wild backstory of the book's creation was matched with a wild production story: first, Ferris's initial publisher bailed on her because the book was too long; then her new publisher's first shipment of the book was seized by the South Korean state bank, from the Panama Canal, when the shipper went bankrupt and its creditors held all its cargo to ransom.

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters told the story of Karen Reyes, a 10 year old, monster-obsessed queer girl in 1968 Chicago who lives with her working-class single mother and her older brother, Deeze, in an apartment house full of mysterious, haunted adults. There's the landlord – a gangster and his girlfriend – the one-eyed ventriloquist, and the beautiful Holocaust survivor and her jazz-drummer husband.

Karen narrates and draws the story, depicting herself as a werewolf in a detective's trenchcoat and fedora, as she tries to unravel the secrets kept by the grownups around her. Karen's life is filled with mysteries, from the identity of her father (her brother, a talented illustrator, has removed him from all the family photos and redrawn him as the Invisible Man) to the purpose of a mysterious locked door in the building's cellar.

But the most pressing mystery of all is the death of her upstairs neighbor, the beautiful Annika Silverberg, a troubled Holocaust survivor whose alleged suicide just doesn't add up, and Karen – who loved and worshiped Annika – is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Karen is tormented by the adults in her life keeping too much from her – and by their failure to shield her from life's hardest truths. The flip side of Karen's frustration with adult secrecy is her exposure to adult activity she's too young to understand. From Annika's cassette-taped oral history of her girlhood in an Weimar brothel and her escape from a Nazi concentration camp, to the sex workers she sees turning tricks in cars and alleys in her neighborhood, to the horrors of the Vietnam war, Karen's struggle to understand is characterized by too much information, and too little.

Ferris's storytelling style is dazzling, and it's matched and exceeded by her illustration style, which is grounded in the classic horror comics of the 1950s and 1960s. Characters in Karen's life – including Karen herself – are sometimes depicted in the EC horror style, and that same sinister darkness crowds around the edges of her depictions of real-world Chicago.

These monster-comic throwbacks are absolute catnip for me. I, too, was a monster-obsessed kid, and spent endless hours watching, drawing, and dreaming about this kind of monster.

But Ferris isn't just a monster-obsessive; she's also a formally trained fine artist, and she infuses her love of great painters into Deeze, Karen's womanizing petty criminal of an older brother. Deeze and Karen's visits to the Art Institute of Chicago are commemorated with loving recreations of famous paintings, which are skillfully connected to pulp monster art with a combination of Deeze's commentary and Ferris's meticulous pen-strokes.

Seven years ago, Book One of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters absolutely floored me, and I early anticipated Book Two, which was meant to conclude the story, picking up from Book One's cliff-hanger ending. Originally, that second volume was scheduled for just a few months after Book One's publication (the original manuscript for Book One ran to 700 pages, and the book had been chopped down for publication, with the intention of concluding the story in another volume).

But the book was mysteriously delayed, and then delayed again. Months stretched into years. Stranger rumors swirled about the second volume's status, compounded by the bizarre misfortunes that had befallen book one. Last winter, Bleeding Cool's Rich Johnston published an article detailing a messy lawsuit between Ferris and her publishers, Fantagraphics:

https://bleedingcool.com/comics/fantagraphics-sued-emil-ferris-over-my-favorite-thing-is-monsters/

The filings in that case go some ways toward resolve the mystery of Book Two's delay, though the contradictory claims from Ferris and her publisher are harder to sort through than the mysteries at the heart of Monsters. The one sure thing is that writer and publisher eventually settled, paving the way for the publication of the very long-awaited Book Two:

https://www.fantagraphics.com/products/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-book-two

Book Two picks up from Book One's cliffhanger and then rockets forward. Everything brilliant about One is even better in Two – the illustrations more lush, the fine art analysis more pointed and brilliant, the storytelling more assured and propulsive, the shocks and violence more outrageous, the characters more lovable, complex and grotesque.

Everything about Two is more. The background radiation of the Vietnam War in One takes center stage with Deeze's machinations to beat the draft, and Deeze and Karen being ensnared in the Chicago Police Riots of '68. The allegories, analysis and reproductions of classical art get more pointed, grotesque and lavish. Annika's Nazi concentration camp horrors are more explicit and more explicitly connected to Karen's life. The queerness of the story takes center stage, both through Karen's first love and the introduction of a queer nightclub. The characters are more vivid, as is the racial injustice and the corruption of the adult world.

I've been staring at the spine of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book One on my bookshelf for seven years. Partly, that's because the book is such a gorgeous thing, truly one of the great publishing packages of the century. But mostly, it's because I couldn't let go of Ferris's story, her characters, and her stupendous art.

After seven years, it would have been hard for Book Two to live up to all that anticipation, but goddammit if Ferris didn't manage to meet and exceed everything I could have hoped for in a conclusion.

There's a lot of people on my Christmas list who'll be getting both volumes of Monsters this year – and that number will only go up if Fantagraphics does some kind of slipcased two-volume set.

In the meantime, we've got more Ferris to look forward to. Last April, she announced that she had sold a prequel to Monsters and a new standalone two-volume noir murder series to Pantheon Books:

https://twitter.com/likaluca/status/1648364225855733769

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/01/the-druid/#oh-my-papa

#pluralistic #books #reviews #lgbtq #pride #gift guide #graphic novels #emil ferris #comics #monsters

[blingblong55]

Jokes and all -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Also, I was wondering if you could make a story where R/n’s past is like Ghost’s and R/n just makes jokes about the past🤔🤔🤔 ---- GN!Reader, platonic!relationship (no clue if this is even fluff) ----

War has always been a part of your life, much like Ghost's. It’s the constant hum in the background of your existence, the familiar rhythm you’ve grown up with. Your name? It’s R/n. But most people just call you Grim. It fits. Like Ghost, you’re a product of your past, a shadow of memories that echo through your actions.

You grew up in a rough neighbourhood in Manchester. Your father was a brute, a man who believed that fear was the best way to control a family. He’d come home drunk, looking for any excuse to use his fists. Your brother tried to shield you, but he was just a kid himself. Eventually, you learned to fend for yourself, to take the hits and keep going. The scars you carry are not just physical but etched deep into your soul. But you don’t let them define you; instead, you joke about them. It’s your way of coping, your shield against the pain.

Joining the military was your way out. The SAS became your new family, a place where you could channel your anger and your skills. You were good—no, you were damn good. It wasn’t long before you caught the attention of Lieutenant General Shepherd, and before you knew it, you were recruited into Task Force 141.

That’s where you met Ghost.

You were kindred spirits, though. Both of you had clawed your way out of hell, and in some twisted way, that formed a bond. He didn’t talk much about his past, but you saw it in his eyes, in the way he moved, always calculating, always prepared for the next fight.

One day, during a particularly gruelling mission in a remote part of Eastern Europe, you and Ghost find yourselves huddled behind an abandoned building, bullets flying overhead.

“Reminds me of home,” you quip, peeking out to return fire. “Except less screaming and more bullets.”

Ghost glances at you, his eyes crinkling slightly behind the mask. “You had bullets at home?”

“Nah, just the screaming. My old man loved to yell. Thought it would toughen us up. Guess he was right.”

He nods, understanding in his gaze. “Toughness isn’t just physical, Grim. Sometimes, it’s about surviving up here.” He taps the side of his head.

You chuckle, though there’s no humour in it. “Yeah, well, my old man did a great job then. Mental scars and all.”

You share a brief, heavy silence before Ghost gives the signal to move. You slip through the shadows, your training kicking in seamlessly. You’re a perfect team, your movements synchronized like a deadly dance. It’s in these moments of chaos that you feel most alive, and you know Ghost feels the same.

After the mission, you sit around a makeshift campfire, the rest of the team spread out, securing the area. Soap is tending to his gear, Price is on the radio, and Gaz is…well, Gaz is being Gaz.

You poke at the fire with a stick, lost in thought. Ghost sits next to you, his mask pushed up just enough to take a sip of water. “You ever think about going back?” he asks suddenly.

You snort. “To Manchester? Hell no. Nothing there for me but bad memories and a graveyard full of regrets.”

“Family?”

“Just my brother. Haven’t seen him in years. He got out before I did. Good for him, though. He deserves a better life.”

Ghost nods, understanding without prying. That’s the thing about Ghost—he never pushes, never demands more than you’re willing to give. It’s a silent respect you have for each other’s boundaries.

Days turn into weeks, and your missions grow more dangerous. Each time, you and Ghost fight side by side, your trust in each other is unspoken but absolute. You share dark humour to lighten the mood, your pasts becoming fodder for your twisted jokes.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you find yourself staring at the stars, the weight of the world pressing down on you. Ghost joins you, his presence a comforting shadow.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll make it out of this alive?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost is silent for a moment before replying, “Sometimes. But then I remember we’ve already survived the worst. This…” He gestures to the desolate landscape. “This is just another fight.”

You smile, a real one this time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’re survivors, you and I.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you. “We’re more than that, Grim. We’re warriors. And we fight for those who can’t.”

You smirk, wanting to lighten the mood. “Look at us, all noble and heroic. Think we can get capes with our uniforms?”

Ghost chuckles softly, a rare sound. “Only if they come with matching tights.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’d look good in tights. You, though? Not so sure.”

He tilts his head. “I make anything look good, Grim. Even tights.”

The banter, light and easy, wraps around you like a shield, deflecting the darkness of your pasts. In moments like this, you feel the weight lift, if only slightly, and you’re reminded why you fight.

The next day, you’re deep in enemy territory again, the tension high. As you navigate through a maze of crumbling buildings, you crack another joke. “You know, if we survive this, I’m buying you a drink. Or ten. You look like you could use it.”

Ghost smirks behind his mask. “You’re assuming I drink.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, Ghost. Everyone drinks. Especially after dealing with this kind of crap.”

“Well, in that case,” he replies, “make mine a double.”

The mission is brutal, but you and Ghost emerge victorious, your bond stronger than ever. Later, as you sit around another fire, you share a flask, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you.

“To surviving,” you toast.

“To more than surviving,” Ghost corrects, clinking his flask against yours. “To living.”

As you lie under the stars that night, the past feels a little less heavy, the future a little less daunting. With Ghost by your side, you know you can face whatever comes next. In the end, you’re more than your scars, more than your memories.

Tags: @nyx129 @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @ikohniik @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @believeinthefireflies95 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimalance @noodlezz-bedo

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you

[di-42]

May's Magnificent Fictions

First off let me share with you a little side note, because the brain wants what the brain wants. After an inner struggle I've finally decided to settle on using the noun "fiction" as countable when referring to works of fanfiction. I will stick to this. It has been bothering me.

And now for something completely enjoyable, let me present to you the lovely fics I've been lucky enough to read in May. I't's been a busy, at times stressful month and I haven't had the chance to read as many as I would have liked. I only made a tiny dent in my Marked for later list, which keeps growing and isn't it wonderful? I still have so much beauty, creativity and bliss to look forward to.

I'll try and tag the writers whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved they are.

WIPs:

The first two WIPs of this list have made me realise that my new favourite trope is the "they never met" one. Or it might just be that both writers are incredibly good!

My Heart Was Always Yours by @addledmongoose

I love this fic and the author's other work so much that sometimes I worry the writer might think I'm stalking them or something! (I'm not! I promise! I only kind of start staring at my phone around 6pm on a Friday night UK time waiting for an update, that's all!). Anyway. like I was saying, in this fiction Aziraphale and Crowley never met until present day and, at the beginning of the story, neither of them knows the other is an angel or a demon. They have both been tasked by their respective head offices to retrieve Raphael's trumpet so Armageddon can start and they both want to find it and destroy it. So they embark on a journey together, thinking that the other is human. This story is so good. It has an incredibly well thought out plot, the characterisation of both, Aziraphale and Crowley are spot on, their interactions are funny and witty but also deep and very sweet. But the point that's dearest to me is that it shows the character of Aziraphale the respect it deserves, which sadly happens less often than it should. The way the writer describe the building of their relationship and their trust will fill your heart with warmth. The stoty has alternate Aziraphale and Crowley POVs and it's narrated in the first person, which will read funny at first but it will flow within the first couple of chapters and it will have been worth it!

This fiction is updated officially every Saturday but if you're very lucky and depending where you are in the world it might be Friday. Only a few more weeks to go, though, it's almost complete and I'll miss it (But I'll re-read it!) Rated M.

The Last Angel by @bellisima-writes

This is another excellent "they never met" story. In this universe, Crowley and Aziraphale were stationed on earth, Armageddon happened, and Hell won the war. All the angels have been killed, except one. This story only has the first 6 chapters out, but you can already see the wonderful job the author has done of thinking how Aziraphale and Crowley would be without having ever met each other, what would be the same and what would be different. And the same goes for other characters, too: so far we've had an insight of how Beelzebub is like in a different universe and hints at how other characters would behave as well. It is full of promise, it sets expectations that I'm hoping will be subverted and the writer is doing such an excellent job with it all. Please go and show this story some love, you won't regret it!

This fiction is updated weekly, definitely every Friday, but I understand from now on every Wednesday and Friday. Rated M.

The Escort by VinyamaDN @vinyama-23

Human AU where Crowley is an escort and Aziraphale hires him for a date. They start getting to know each other and the rest is history. This story touches very delicate subjects, but it's also funny and fluffy. Please read the tags. Rated E.

Whickber Street by Caedmon @caedmonfaith

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale has a bookshop in Whickber Street and Crowley opens a comic book shop on the same road. It's a slow burn, from one-enemy-to-lovers story, full of humour, charm and fluff. Featuring all the shopkeepers in Whickber Street, which is a treat! Update every Monday and Thursday without fail. Rated E.

Complete works:

And Now All Of My Garden Is Grown In Lavender by ilikeblue

I'm so grateful to my lovely mutual and penpal @dashuntsel for recommending this great human AU. Aziraphale is a successful queer romance author whose books are being adapted for TV. At the start of his career, his agent, Gabriel, insisted he claims to be married in order to gain more readers. Now that the spotlight is on him, Aziraphale needs someone to play the part of his husband. Did I mention that Crowley is Aziraphale's gardener and friend? I'm sure you know where this is going. This story has a little angst and lots of good vibes of trust, friendship, love and loyalty. And a happy ending! Rated E.

Lit by @fellshish

Fellshish is one of my favourite fiction writers and this piece doesn't disappoint. Making people laugh is much more difficult than making people cry and fellshish succeeds in the task so effortlessly! (They can also make you laugh while wanting to cry, but for that you'll have to read their other stories. This one is angst-free). Time-wise this story can be collocated after season 1 and is not canon compliant with season 2. Crowley enrolls in a literature course without realising it was a fantasy literature course. The book that will be read this semester is "Good Omens - The Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter, Witch". And the class will get to meet the author, Neil Gaiman. This book seems to describe only too well the event leading to the failed Armageddon, including things that only Aziraphale and Crowley would know. How is that possible? And what would happen if it fell on heavenly or hellish wrong hands? And, oh Satan, did someone say TV adaptation?? A truly amazing, funny piece that will make you feel better after a hard day at work. Rated Teen and up.

Gate Duty by Ginger_cat @gingiekittycat

Not really a crossover, but a Good Omens fiction with elements of The Good Place. You can absolutely read it and enjoy it if you haven't seen The Good Place. placed in time post season 1. Aziraphale is called back to heaven to Gate Duty and he's decided to go despite Crowley's protest. Crowley has Beelzebub assign him to Gate Duty as well, so they don't have to spend 300 years apart. So they set to out to judge the souls and decide whether to send them to the good place or the bad place, as they have rebranded heaven and hell. In the process they meet a few souls that you might or might not know, not the focus of the story. This fiction manages to be funny and incredibly angsty at the same time and it was incredible to see how some of the details in it would resonate with season 2, which wasn't out at the time the fic was written. Rated E.

Of Size And Other Matters by LCwrites

Lovely from strangers to lovers, fake relationship human AU. Aziraphale needs a date to accompany him to an event hosted by his brother, Gabriel. Crowley receives a text from a stranger, clearly by mistake, but why not having some fun? I really like the dynamics between them, the ease and the trust. A tiny bit of angsty pining but quickly and happily resolved. Rated E.

One shot:

Not Nice by Sad_chaos_goblin @sad-chaos-goblin

Great one shot that follows the wall slamming scene!What would have happened if the former nun hadn't interrupted their "Intimate moment"? This fic is a treat, sweet and hot and fluffy all at the same time. Rated E.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfiction recommendation #good omens fanfic rec #good omend fic rec #good omens fiction #good omens fic rec #thank you for my pornography #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

What “It’s Written Like a Fanfic” actually means as a criticism—

Lately, I’ve seen a lot of people use “it’s written like fan fiction” as a negative critique of stories that are poorly written.

I’ve especially seen this criticism talked about in regards to Hazbin Hotel, and honestly, it’s a criticism I agree with.

But I wanted to talk specifically about what that means, because I think there are people who hear that criticism and take it to mean that ALL fan fiction is terrible and poorly written.

I need to make it REALLY CLEAR that I am not saying all fan fiction is “bad”.

I’ve written (probably bad) fan fiction! I’m an avid reader of fan fiction! Some of my favorite stories are fan fiction or are derived from fan fiction.

So. How can I use “it’s written like a fanfic” as a negative criticism if I like it so much? Because—

To me, a story being “written like a fanfiction” is only a problem when the writers approach the characters and world of their story as if everything has been pre-established.

The reason fan fiction works, the reason it can be so deeply beloved and celebrated, is usually because fanfiction writers and audiences have already fallen in love with an existing world and characters.

For example, I really love Batman, specifically Batman: The Animated Series. When I read fan fiction about Batman, I don’t always want to, or need to, read about Bruce Wayne’s backstory and his reasons and motives for becoming Batman. That’s something that can be explored and elaborated on in many interesting ways in fan fiction, but it’s not really something I need a beat by beat explanation on.

And, in this scenario, the writer of the fic doesn’t need to spend time establishing Batman’s basic characterization and relationships. There’s an assumption that the audience and readers already have an idea of those subjects. That’s why they’re seeking out fan fic—because they’ve already delved into the source material, and want to see more of those characters and that world.

That’s not to say one CAN’T write fan fiction about origin stories and establishing lore and all that, or that those stories will always be poorly written. But it’s not necessary for someone who’s already a fan to understand what’s going on if the writer wants to elaborate on an already established character or story.

In fan fiction, the heavy lifting of establishing character relationships, backstories, and basic relationships, etc. has usually already been done by the source material.

The reason someone seeks out fan fiction is (almost always) because they already know and enjoy the characters and setting, and want to hear more stories about those characters.

However, if you’re writing your own story, you need to take the time to establish your story’s basic tone, plot, characters and so on, before you can get to the exciting and more gripping or engaging parts of your narrative.

Hazbin Hotel (the Amazon series) is very guilty of skipping over a lot of the work of building up and establishing its characters and world and how they mesh with the plot and narrative.

The most egregious examples I can think of is when (v)Aggie throws the crew into the turf war, we don’t get to SEE any of the bonding the Hazbin crew have, and are then told afterwards that they’re closer and we see them reminiscing about the fight.

The same thing happens when Husk tells everyone what their personal “issues” are because he’s the bartender and can “see through them” because of that. It would be actually nice if we got to SEE how he learned those things, but instead he just lists off characteristics that people who are already fans of the show know from following the shows development.

Brand new audiences just have a bunch of character traits told to them all at once, and don’t actually get to SEE these characterization happen naturally.

I think the main reason Hazbin is written like this is mostly because the creators publicly developed the story online over many, many years.

Anyone who was already a fan of Hazbin’s creators’ previous work probably followed Hazbin’s 10 year development. And as a result, they probably listened to a lot of livestreams, read some of the supplemental comics, went to Q/A streams, and read the creator’s blog. Due to that, they already KNOW a lot about the story and world and characters, and so they don’t notice if those basic world-building and character development ARENT in the show itself.

And obviously, this is all just my opinion, but it very much seems to me like this slow and public development of Hazbin’s characters and story may have had the negative side affect of the creator and writers forgetting that they still have to build up and develop these things in the actual show itself.

Long time fans of the story when it was just a bunch of loose concepts and early characterizations can watch the finalized series of “Hazbin Hotel”, and are able to bridge gaps in the story and characterization because they’ve probably been reading blogs about Hazbin for at least 5 years.

But when someone completely new to the series watches it, there’s a chance they’re going to find the story rushed and disjointed, because they don’t have the background information on the story’s development.

This is a problem specifically because, to write an engaging and competent story, you HAVE to take the time to establish basic things first, and then you have to take the time to BUILD UP to deeper characterization, plot points, character relationships and so on.

Hazbin Hotel the show feels like “a bad fan fic” because it’s, in my opinion, written for people who are already fans, and written by people who want to skip straight to the “fun” parts of their story. But the writers still recognize that the story needs to be accessible to people who are not familiar with it, and to compensate they have to cram in as many explanations and justifications to try and make their story make sense.

The result is that Hazbin Hotel has tons of bland exposition, rushed character arcs and introductions, tonal inconsistencies and confusing lore, and a world and characters that are half-formed and fall flat.

That’s what I personally think the criticism “written like a bad fan fic” means. That the narrative feels like it is based on a preexisting piece of media, and therefore is missing the building blocks needed to make the narrative feel like a believable and fully formed story.

As a side note—I don’t think it’s like. Objectively terrible to develop your story and characters openly. But I DO think it can end up biting you in the ass like I detailed above.

When you already know how your characters behave and where your story is going, and you share that and start to have a following that’s with you every step of the way, I think it’s easy to forget that your story still needs to be accessible to people outside of your fan base.

I mean. I guess it doesn’t NEED to. But like. That’s usually the goal. Funnily enough, that also kind of makes me think of fanfic writing.

Fan fic doesn’t need to be accessible to a general audience b/c it’s often written for the the author’s own gratification and for the gratification of a pre-existing fan base.

Interestingly, I personally don’t think the “fan fiction” criticism applies to the first season of Spindlehorse’s other show, Helluva Boss, because the story and characters were (mostly) thought out first, and the narrative took time to gradually develop the characters and story at a slower pace.

And then season 2 came out and changed the characterization so drastically from what was already established that now it does feel like a fan fiction of itself. lol.

That’s really all I have to say about that. There are other things too that show up a lot in fan fiction and have like…become their own fan fiction tropes that people sometimes expect or mock, and those play a role too. But to me this is the BIGGEST thing that makes a story feel like a bad fan fic. If it’s written as if it’s borrowing from an already established story.

Again! These are just my opinions! I know the sin of sharing one’s opinions online can never be forgiven, but I wanted to examine the reason people use that phrase as a negative criticism.

#funhouse convo #media criticism #media critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #media conversation #long post

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Storm Bros x Mute Child Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Born into this vast world, rendered of your ability to speak, you were a unique one. You never thought of it as an obstacle or felt abnormal while everyone else has a voice.

What compensates for it is how adventurous you are. You were just all over the place, giving your own parents a little trouble supervising you. Yes, it's completely normal for a kid to be curious, but not when somehow you ended up on a tall building.

On your own time, you skipped through nature, wondering around the tall hills before stumbling across a cool looking place. Venturing around, you saw a lot of ancient statues and decorations, kinda like those museums or what you see in class.

Then you hear two voices. You peek your head around the corner and see two men. They look cool! Like those magic people in the movies!

Maybe they could be your friends!

You quietly walk out from behind the corner and stare at them longer, just taking in their appearance as they were having a serious conversation.

Soon enough, one turns his head and sees you, the other not realizing just yet.

"Is it so difficult to stand on your own?! What are you even looking at-" The other one with the funny looking hat turns his head too.

Both of them had confused looks as they stared at you. You just stared back like any child would blankly stare at strangers.

"Well, hello there!" The one with the braid greets with a warm smile. "You're quite far from home, aren't you?"

Are you? You could've sworn you were only walking around outside your home for ten minutes, eleven maybe. Now that he mentions it... Where are you again?

No matter. Too much thinking. You wave hi eagerly at them. You were confident enough to even walk to both of them.

The braided god squats down to your level. "I'm Fujin, and this is my brother, Raiden." He gestures to the stern looking man behind him.

Wow, Raiden is tall! Your dad is a tall dude, but him? He's like a titan! You looked up at him with surprise.

"Oh, don't be afraid of Raiden! He may look intimidating, but he won't hurt you. He has a nephew about your age." Fujin shares. "Anyways, what's your name, little one?"

You awkwardly blink, not being able to answer. Fujin tilts his head a bit wondering why you aren't answering. Raiden raises an eyebrow at your silence, confused as well.

The brothers exchanged glances. "Can you talk?" Fujin asks. You shake your head with a dumbfounded smile.

Fujin stands and looks at Raiden. The brothers quietly discuss something while you just observed, not a thought formulating in your adorable mind.

"I don't know how a child was able to climb up the mountains! It's rather dangerous for her to do that." You hear Raiden say. "Perhaps, I could get Liu Kang and Kung Lao to take her back to her mother."

"Or we can do it ourselves. There's nothing wrong with a mortal child just being curious about their surroundings. Don't worry too much, brother."

While Fujin had his back turned from you, your eyes examined his braid. So long and silver. You bet it's soft, reaching and tugging lightly on it just to explore.

This brought back both of their attention, Fujin chuckling on how peculiar you are. It was amusing, even so to Raiden, as the strict look on his face eased up.

The older god sighs and gently picks you up. "We should get her back to her mother as soon as possible. Any parent would be worried sick." Fujin nods in agreement and understanding.

You clung onto the god, mostly focusing in on his cone of a hat. He notices you reaching for it. Groaning, he lets you take it off and wear it for yourself as him and Fujin were about to help you get home safely.

---*Extra*---

Raiden still had you in his arms as he and Fujin walked around to find your home.

Bored, Fujin had an idea. "Hey, little one? Would you like to see what I can do?" He winks at you before summoning the wind to knock off Raiden's hat from his head. The Thunder God stops in his tracks and looks back at Fujin, offended.

Fujin looks to the side all innocently. "My, the weather is windy today, if I do say so myself."

Raiden's eyebrow twitched with irritation. Carefully shifting you in his hold so he can hold you well with one arm, he creates an electric static with his finger and zaps Fujin, making the playful Wind God's hair frizzy.

Fujin's face went into a pouted sulk and Raiden gave a grunt of satisfaction. He puts his hat back on and continues walking off with you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #fujin #lord fujin #fujin x reader #mk fujin #lord raiden #raiden x reader #raiden #goddesswritings

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi, are there any recommendations you have for me for my writing process? My process is extremely long because I keep getting stuck. Got an idea for a conflict, okay. Stuck on fleshing that out. Eventually done. Stuck on my characters, who they are, and their roles. Finally get that done. But now I need to figure out backstory. Stuck. Figure out the plotline/solution to the conflict. Stuck. It's MONTHS between these steps of writing a story. I'm on the verge of giving up...

Slow and Clunky Writing Process

Please don't give up. The world needs the stories only you can tell. ♥

There is so much information out there about plot, story structure, conflict, goals, outlining, backstory, plot points, pacing, theme, character arc... blah, blah, blah... it can get incredibly overwhelming, especially if you can't seem to get to point of actually writing the story.

Having said that, I think it's so, soooo important to know that you don't actually have to worry so much about that stuff at the beginning.

The truth of the matter is, your first stories are probably not going to be the stories you publish. That doesn't mean you can't publish them, it's just that most of us will write two or three, maybe four or five stories before we write one that's good enough to share. As a result, what typically happens is you get a little bit better at all of those things (conflict, pacing, character arc, etc.) with every story you write. Keep learning about those things as you go, and try your best to incorporate them into each story, but you shouldn't be looking for a level of perfection that they hold you back.

Think of it like this: if you decided you wanted to build your own home, you wouldn't read a bunch of blog posts and books about home construction, maybe take a workshop or two, and then start building, expecting to build a house you could actually live in. Instead, you'd probably start by building some smaller structures... maybe a dog house, a patio with pergola, maybe help a friend split a big room in their house into two rooms. You'd take on smaller projects to put your budding skills to use and practice them. Then, when you got really good at everything, you might be ready to build your house.

Writing is the same way. You can't take all of that information and pour it into a perfect, flawless story in one go round. It's too hard, too overwhelming, and you never get a chance to actually hone your budding skills.

So, start by just writing the stories you want to write... just for fun... just to practice your skills. Don't worry if your conflict isn't perfectly fleshed out. Don't worry if your pacing is wonky or your character arc is unsatisfactory. Focus first on just writing the story. Then, you can hone your revision skills by trying to improve those things once the first draft is complete. Put the story through two or three revisions, and you're really sharpening those skills. When you go to write and revise the next story, it's going to be a little bit easier.

You'll know when you get to a point where you've written something that's publishable. You'll still need to do two or three revisions to get it where it needs to be, but the whole process will be much easier.

And one last thing: don't worry about backstory unless it's critical for helping the reader understand the world of the story, the conflict, or who the character is/why they do what they do. ♥

Happy writing! I promise it gets easier!!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

[cardcaptorharin]

Something about you

Synopsis. “He looks just like a dream, the most beautiful boy I've ever seen.”

Character. Akaashi x fem!reader

Rating/category. Aged up, fluff

Notes. I got inspired by the song Eyedress - Something About You ft. Dent May

I first saw him on the crowded gym, surrounded by friends and laughter. He had a smile that could light up the darkest of rooms and eyes that sparkled with mischief. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

As I watched him move through the crowd, my heart skipped a beat. He was tall and lean, with short messy dark hair. His laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling just watching him.

I had never believed in love at first sight, but as I gazed at him, I couldn't deny the fluttering in my chest. He looked just like a dream, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, even as my friends urged me to go talk to him. I was too shy, too nervous to approach him.

What would I even say? How could I capture his attention? But fate seemed to be on my side, as he eventually made his way over to me. His smile widened as he introduced himself, his voice smooth and warm. I felt myself melting under his gaze, unable to form coherent sentences.

We talked for what seemed like hours, losing ourselves in conversation and laughter. He was funny and charming, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I never had with anyone else. It felt like we had known each other for years, not just a few moments.

As the minutes wore on and the game ended, he looked up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, want to take a walk with me?" he asked casually, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. I couldn't help but feel my heart flutter at his charming invitation, and with a shy smile, I nodded in agreement.

We strolled through the park, the sun setting in a beautiful display of colors. The air was cool, but his presence brought warmth to my side. With each step we took, our conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared secrets. I found myself getting lost in his deep blue eyes, feeling a connection unlike any I had felt before.

As we reached a secluded spot by the pond, he suddenly stopped and turned towards me, his expression serious yet filled with longing. "I have something to confess," he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. My heart raced at his touch, anticipation building in the air.

And then, in a moment filled with hesitation and courage, he leaned in and his lips met mine in a tender kiss. Time seemed to stand still as we embraced, the world fading away around us. In that moment, I realized that this walk in the park had turned into something magical, something that I would never forget.

As we pulled away, our eyes locked in silent understanding. The sun had fully set, casting a warm glow over us as we stood there, caught in the midst of a budding romance. And in that moment, I knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead, filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities. And as we walked back hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for that mischievous glint in his eyes that had brought us together.

masterlist

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyū!! #haikyuu x y/n #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #hq akaashi #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #x reader

[bywandandsword]

So I was just told something interesting

You know how a lot of these big Victorian houses have seemingly useless railings around windows that are clearly not balconies? Come to find out these sorts of houses were built so that you could close off parts of the house from each other, like if you had guests or were hosting a party or something. But staff still needed to be able to get around so these windows would be large enough that staff could go out one window from one closed off section of the house to the other. It also gave the effect that guests rarely actually saw staff moving around doing day-to-day tasks. And apparently, a lot of these windows had hidden panels that swung out and make it look like the window wasn't there from inside the room When I heard that, I immediately thought about a lot of modern criticism of older novels books that feature wealthier protagonists, who talk about their isolation and loneliness. I've heard people discussing these protagonists say things like "How can you be lonely when you're surrounded by staff? It must be their sense of class that prevents them from seeing the staff as people who they can socialize with". That is absolutely at play, don't get me wrong. But with the windows in mind and the knowledge that one of the marks of a good staff at the time was to be as unseen as possible, I think it's completely possible that these protagonists, and the real people they represented, really DID feel that they were completely alone in their houses. Not only were all these social structures in place to keep them separate from everyone else in the house, but also these physical structures that further limited interaction. Because we no longer build houses like this and a lot of older surviving houses no longer have this feature, it's a bit of context that modern readers aren't aware of

I think it's really interesting, cause it gives a whole new context to these stories and social life in the period, and also makes me wonder about what other context that we're not aware of when looking at history or fiction from previous time periods that would re-frame our understandings of the event of those times

#Sword speaks #I love this shit I love it so much #it's like getting a new puzzle piece and seeing all the other places it could fit #to build out my understanding of the world #or like getting to glimpse the world through a different pair of eyes #and this is why I'm a social scientist because there are millions of different eyes to view life from #and every new perspective is fascinating and deepens my understanding of the world #and we live in such an interesting and beautiful world #idk I just *flails in anthropology*

[lunarharp]

warming back up..with silliness.. watching shrek 2 again & Dreams . cause i have a lot of dreams that are weird

#witch hat tag #orufrey #i dreamt qifrey had tattoos and it was scary bc why wouldnt i know that? he's been shirtless in the manga #yet in the dream he had geometric black tattoos on his neck? HOW COULD I NOT KNOW??? #i also dreamt today about panels with loads of fire in them like they were in a burning building and tetia's shoes were getting singed #but nobody even cared and nobody in the world noticed the fire except for me only i realise things are on fire #stress dreams..stress dreams about witch hat atelier..i'm not doing well guys #yeah i used shrek dialogue for my orufrey. we're at this level of insanity. i dont even care any more #listen to Holding out for a hero (shrek 2) (10 hour version) thinking of qif & oru & iguin and maybe youll understand #silly personal drawings where ive drawn 'myself' dont fit with my actual art =_= But Once again..who cares any more.

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

#thats my honest reaction 😐 #to be fair ive only seen 20 minutes of the s1 finale bc my parents are watching it but. mmmmm kinda mid #like. the casting is definitely an improvement since the last time they tried a live action but it feels like the writing falls flat #or maybe im being harsh bc ive only heard negative criticism on it beforehand. but fr anytime u bring up the original its already #good and not just because its the original. so much fucking detail went into it to the point of someone noticing azula wielding mai's knive #to how well thought out irohs character is used as a way of uniting the cast especially as zukos foil #i heard that sokkas sexism was toned down and i have to agree that feels like a cheap move. like i get WHY they think it would be better #but its not about how that reflects on real world its about how it affects the story. sokka starts out as a misogynistic asshole because #it makes it that much more impactful when he changes. toning that down makes it flatter and makes his character development weak #and someone pointed out they didnt even make him wear the kyoshi warrior uniform and i know it feels like such a small detail but #come on man. they did that in the original because not only does it help him really walk in their shoes - wearing 'feminine' clothing and #makeup and having suki explain its significance but it also ties in with the shows theme of harmony and intersectionality #i was also disappointed when they had the fire sages explain how the water tribe draws power from the moon because in the original it was #IROH who explained it to aang and everyone else BECAUSE we as the audience is under the impression hes with the 'bad guys' #and it builds up to how he learned from the other nations which reconciles his past as a war general and his character overall #AND its an excellent starting point for the cast and audience to understand how the nations arent as closed off as you would think #plus you would think its only fire nation doing propaganda but they expanded on that with earth kingdom censorship and it WORKS #a lot of things in the live action also feel arbitrary like. they gave momo a near death experience for 5 minutes for no reason #im firmly on the stance of bringing back filler moments instead of putting major events right after each other so that u give your #audience a sense of time passing and to really absorb the story. but i think thats more like shock value than filler and yeah its a small #thing to gripe about but those things build up and its really annoying. the thing abt avatar filler moments is that however small #its at least meaningful. hell even the beach episode emphasizes how isolated zuko and his friends are as child soldiers #i also swore to never watch the first live action since it was that bad but i really liked the stylized tattoos they used for aang #anyway. those arejust my thoughts. im not gonna watch the rest because im a ride or die for the original aftr growing up and #rewatching it at least 20 times as a kid. but theres definitely room for improvement and i wish ppl wouldnt take it as 'better' just cuz #netflix is adapting it. i wouldve killed for them to just reanimate the entire avatar series and touch NOTHING ELSE no redub #no changes to the story. just reanimate the thing and leave the rest alone and youd make easy money just the same #ALSO its very jarring not hearing jack desena and dante basco voicing sokka and zuko cause their voices were the most recognizable to me #i get that its because its live action but im allowed to feel a little sad abt that. and uncle irohs accent was really soothing #yapping

[itspileofgoodthings]

I was teaching Ophelia’s death scene this week and one of my classes spontaneously giggled when she died (because they are 16 years old and emotionally immature) and I said, in a shocked voice, “it is NOT funny” and they all insisted that it was and so I let it go but then the next day I showed them some Ophelia art, made them think about how sinister it was that her death happens offstage but is still described in such detail for the viewer, which tells us she was WATCHED but not HELPED as she died, and then played a clip from Branagh’s Hamlet of Kate Winslet singing a mourning song for her father and when I tell you how satisfying it was to hear a total and complete hush fall over the room

#teaching tag #Obviously I cannot control their emotions and I don’t try to. but I love to lay all the right groundwork for them to be moved #even if they don’t understand or forget it a second later #I can do that!!! let them have their moment of silly little reaction and then clear it away and make them look at the moment again #giving them all the context and support they need and don’t have on their own #and I have no idea if it works on a personal or individual level because it depends on what they let into their little hearts #but as a class i KNOW that it works. because of that signature hush #the same thing happened when I read the proposal scene from David Copperfield out loud #it’s happened with the end of the inferno. P&P Pemberley scene. teaching twelfth night #it’s my favorite thing to do in the entire world #to just sweep everything away and then re-build how to look at a scene #and the thing I LOVE about teaching high schoolers is that there’s the immaturity and the boredom etc. etc. #But underneath that there is a great stupidity ready to be taught #that is so much better than pretentious college age kids or hardened adults who already ‘know’ what it’s about #they have that grain of stupidity (more than a grain lol) that o’Connor talks about #that is the secret to letting things in #and I’m so passionate about showing them and I’m just getting better at clearing the ground and knowing what tools to show them when #and also —-this is A new thing I’m learning —-how to hold back my own emotions or reactions so as not to cloud it #whenever I start talking very matter-of-factly and very quickly and almost dispassionately about the structure of a moment #that’s so much better than me having the emotion because it gives THEM room to have the emotion #and that’s simply how they’re hooked #ANYWAY. as I said lots of thoughts thanks for listening wldkdkejejjejejejehe