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f1boistrash · 1 day

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i have a name | l.s

a/n: so this is an idea i had after the miami gp and its been stuck in my head so im finally writing it. there is some slight jos slander and reader is max's sister

summary: y/n verstappen drives for f1 academy. they find comfort in a certain american when the media gets too much

Your whole life you've always been Max's sister. You didn't hate your brother for it because it wasn't his fault. You hated the world for being so small minded. You hated your dad for not caring. His words stuck in your head like a broken record. 'You're overreacting Y/N. It's not a big deal. You need to grow up.'

But it was a big deal because why couldn't they be bothered to learn your name. Your accomplishments throughout your career always amounted to 'Max's sister' it was never 'Y/N Verstappen'. You were sure if they could your trophies would say that too.

Going into the F1 Academy you thought it'd be different. You were excited when you got the call. The first person you told was Max and he was even more excited than you, if that was even possible. You were at the forefront of the series, watching young girls across the world become interested in the sport you loved. Something you wished you had growing up.

The driving was great. The team was great. Everything was great except the media. Its the one thing you dreaded stepping into the spotlight more. You tried to develop a thick skin like your brother but it was difficult when you constantly got picked at.

"So, Y/N, great day today. You qualified third. How was it?" The interviewer asked.

"Yeah it was great. Obviously we'd prefer P1 but we're still happy with the result and looking forward to pushing it even more tomorrow." You replied, grinning at your result. It might not be front of the grid but you were still proud.

"Your brother Max had a phenomenal season last year. Can we expect the same this year?" And there it was. Your first interview of the weekend and it only took one question before they asked you about your brother. Normally you didn't mind talking about Max's accomplishments. You were so unbelievably proud of him. It's when they start talking about him when they should be asking you about your race and your season that you get annoyed.

You plastered on your fake smile, hoping no one saw the disappointment flash across your face. "It's hard to say what this year will bring but what I do know is that Max will give it his everything. Whatever happens though I'm still proud of him."

Before anymore questions about Max could be asked your manager made a sign that time was up. You thanked the interviewer and left the media pen. She gave you a run down of tomorrows schedule as you were now finished for the day. Your manager didn't need to ask if you were okay because she knew you weren't. Working with you for a few years meant she had learnt all your tells.

You thanked her for today before parting ways, leaving you alone. The night air was brisk but welcoming. You shut your eyes and sighed enjoying the silence. You were supposed to be meeting Max tonight yet you couldn't bring yourself to move. Not wanting to face him just yet.

It was late and you weren't expecting many people left at the grid. Especially the F1 drivers which was why you jumped when a voice broke the silence. "Y/N right?" Logan said, your stomach fluttered when you looked at him. You have never really spoken to Logan before, only seeing him in passing but you always thought he was cute. He also called you by your name and not 'Max's sister' which was a welcomed surprise, used to his friends calling you that. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, just wasn't expecting anyone to be left at the track." You told him. You took in his appearance under the setting sun. He was in his Williams uniform, his hair slightly tousled from wearing his hat all day.

"Yeah, I was just heading out. Had to do a few tweaks before tomorrow. What are you doing here late?" He asked.

"Media." You grimaced. Logan laughed, understanding your reaction.

"That bad huh?"

"Yep." You nodded. "Talked about Max the whole time."

The two of slowly started walking towards the car you have rented this weekend. It was one of the few left in the parking lot. "Seriously? That's so shit." Logan said, shaking his head. It wasn't out of pity though, more like anger.

"You get used to it." You shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to though." He told you, pulling you both to a stop. His eyes, looking at you intensely making you nervous. "You were incredible out there today and I'll definitely be watching tomorrow as you get your first podium of the season."

"Wait, you watched qualifying?" You asked, surprised.

"Don't tell my trainer though." Logan grinned, winking at you making you laugh. It was a sound he could get used to.

"Well thank you Logan. It means a lot." You thanked him, coming to a stop when you reached the drivers seat door.

"You have a name, Y/N. Your not just Max Verstappen's sister and I hope you know that." He said, earnestly.

You don't know what came over you but you found yourself leaning up, pressing a kiss on Logan's cheek. "Thank you."

-x-

"You're late." Was all Max said as you walked through your hotel room door. You kicked off your shoes, walking further into the room seeing your brother lying on your freshly made bed scrolling on his phone.

"Don't you have a sim race or something?" You asked, shoving his feet off your bed trying to change the subject because what else can you say? The reason you were late was the slight breakdown you had about the interview and then you bumped into Logan. You couldn't exactly tell Max that.

He playfully stuck his middle finger up at you, knowing you were making fun of him. "How was your day anyway? Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yeah it was good." You lied. You liked that Max was oblivious sometimes because it meant you didn't have to talk about what people said about you. However, you also hated his obliviousness because sometimes you wanted your brother to comfort you. "Hopefully people won't get sick of the Dutch national anthem." You grinned at Max who laughed loudly.

You asked Max about his day and he told you about how confident he was with this years car, excited to see what he can get out of it. He carried on talking as you got out of your team uniform and into some comfy clothes when he quietened down.

"When were you going to tell me?" Max asked when you exited the bathroom. "About what the interviewer said?"

"It's fine Max." You said, avoiding his gaze on you by putting your clothes away. You were afraid if you looked at him the dam would break.

"It's not fine, Y/N." He huffed, his voice raising out of anger. It wasn't aimed at you though, Max would never raise his voice at you. "It was so unprofessional. Not to mention the commentators today couldn't even be bothered to learn your name. I'm going to do something about it."

Max's reaction reminded you of Logan's. You didn't think anyone would care this much. Especially someone who you never really had a conversation with before. You knew it was pointless to ask Max to leave it alone so you didn't bother. "Just please don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done that?" Max asked and you laughed. You would run out of fingers if you counted all the times Max did something stupid.

It was getting late and you and Max said your goodbyes, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts. Instead of the video on repeat in your head it was Logan's words. You reached over for your phone and unlocked it, going straight to instagram to find Logan's profile. You hit follow before going to his dms.

Y/N:

Thank you again for tonight.

His response was quick making your stomach flutter.

Logan:

You don't need to keep thanking me Y/N

Y/N:

I know

I enjoyed talking to you tonight

So thank you for your company 😊

Logan:

I enjoyed talking to you too 😊

I hope we can do it again some time

You were sure you were grinning like an idiot but you didn't care. You had fallen for the American and hard.

Y/N:

I would love to ☺️

Good luck for tomorrow Logan 💙

Logan:

Good luck Y/N 😊

#logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #f1

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audiovisualrecall · 26 days

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Hate that I have to go back to work tomorrow and work thru Tuesday (for no fucking reason. Monday, I get! Cleamup from Sunday plus I have an order to write. Why do I have to be there on tuesday????) (Also my boss is so bad at making schedules he constantly puts 2 people on Tuesdays and 1 person on Wednesdays despite the latter always having way mote product coming in than a Tuesday And being busier. Make it make sense.)

On the other hand the rain stopped and it's bright out and dry now I guess?? So a) hopefully the garden center delivery didn't come earlier and comes now instead, and b) this means sales will do better on the outdoor now that the rain has stopped. So hoping it'll be more of 'some rain but some dry+sunny/clear moments' this week instead of 'constant pouring rain and also thunder' like I was worried it'd be.

Still don't want to go in tomorrow

#love having 2 days off in a row except then i get weird on the 2nd day abt wasting the day/wanting to do everything but not having enough #time to do everything and which things am i willing to continue not getting to do and which things do i feel like i can do?#i need a week off to get everything done that i want to do #and unfortunately the next time i have a week off will again be a visit to the cape. not at home.#unless i squeeze ankther vacation week in june or something idk #sigh #and also hate that even if i made the time to learn to drive. i wouldnt be able to drive myself to work anyway bc we donf have the old car #at the moment bc my brother in law is using it still!#not that that would save me That much time bc ive been taking uber to and from work most days recently bc ive been staying back either bc he #scheduled me for late mid so I'm there till 5 or later anyway or i stayed back late and got OT and left after 5 or even after 6 #and when i get home its time to make dinner or at least decide and then i dont have time after dinner to do anything either #i havent touched my etsy or my website in ages. I'm glad i havent gotten any sales on etsy bc i havent had the time for it. naybe i should #put the shop on vacay idk #but i just have to print more pride cats stickers and update the stock levels and reply to the message asking about them #p much.#but ugh #ive convinced myself that if i can set up the other room as a studio i can do all the computer related stuff #i hate having to set up on the tanle and then move it again a few days later #between that and needing to finish illustrations for steph's book.

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exopelagic · 5 months

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I’m almost done complaining abt supervisors I swear

#I’m just >:((((#it’s all so incredibly frustrating and I should’ve had this done earlier I had all of December but I didn’t #I gotta write a dumb little statement abt why I wanna do their projects/work with them #and it’s dumb!! it’s not that hard!!!#I’m just driving myself insane with the social implications bc people are very competitive abt it and yknow what I kinda am too #bc I only actually wanna do one of my 3 and if I can’t do that I’m gonna be okay with but kinda disappointed by my second choice #and my third choice is more interesting than the second in theory but in practice it’s conservation focused which I don’t want #and involves spending a month in the woods in Scotland #which I admit sounds pretty fucking cool! but would suck in practice I’m not made for that #and I’ve also put off asking whether we’d be Camping™ (I couldn’t deal with it) or staying somewhere (would be manageable)#I am fairly sure it’s of the camping variety and even if it’s not we’d be travelling through the highlands constantly #it’s just a really long time doing stuff which is kinda cool but isn’t what I wanted and with someone I dont particularly think I’d get on w #with. I should email her but the project isn’t what I want to do however cool it would be to go back to the highlands and be there a while #I’m pretty sure I’d be kinda miserable. I’m really really hoping she doesn’t pick me bc there were only 3 people interested anyway #which would be great if I wanted to do it but as it stands it’s terrifying pls god let someone else have picked her #I’ve never been so glad I was awkward as hell in an important meeting #but the problem is that if I don’t pick that one and DO get my third choice I would be miserable for an entire year instead #bc my backup option is fucking satellite imagery and machine learning for more conservation this time in the ocean #and I don’t wanna do coding and GIS!!! I did that over summer and it sucked!!!! I hated it and I never wanted to do it again!!!!#so I think ultimately the scotland one is the lesser of two evils even though it’s very much an evil #the options I had reeeaaally sucked this time #god genuinely after the island thing last summer I really can’t do long fieldwork I want to be able to shower and go home #maybe I could one day but I’m not that guy yet #I really have to write these things I just wanna cry bc they suck so incredibly bad and I gotta make out like I’m super interested #and not so tired and frustrated by the whole thing #I hate this department and this uni and this city and I really can’t wait to be somewhere else #yknow what it’s 10:30 and I gotta be up early again I might just leave it tonight #today has been so long already and I don’t think I’ll gain anything by torturing myself abt it anymore #>:/#luke.txt

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velvetures · 10 months

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Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’… Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren’t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year

Text

Steve and Robin have spent most of their shifts at Family Video, whispering and giving each other suggestive glances whenever a pretty girl walks through the door. Steve used to hate it whenever Tommy H. made him do stuff like this, but it's different with Robin. Less about objectifying and more about admiring a woman's beauty — at least, that's what Robin tells him when he brings it up one day.

With his conscious clean, he leans into it, and the two have so much fun silently staring at pretty girls. They learn that they have pretty much the same taste in women — minus Tammy Thompson — which isn't surprising considering they share just about everything in common.

And while it's fun sharing glances and watching each other blush red when the cute girl gives one of them more attention, Steve also wishes he had someone who would do that with him when he spots a cute guy in the mix. Steve tried to bring it up to Robin once, but she wasn't having it.

"Stevie," she leveled. "All I see is a faceless blurb that smells too much like pine. You're the only guy for me."

So, he let it go.

Eddie and Gareth have a similar game they play whenever they drive out to Indy. Gareth is usually the one to point out a petite blonde walking in their favorite record shop. If she heads to the metal section, Eddie can make a move. If it's anything else, Gareth gets to try.

Nine times out of 10, it's Gareth who flirts his way to a phone number.

Not that Eddie minds.

He has just as much fun watching his friend hopelessly flirt while casually checking out the guys who wander in the record store.

Gareth always gives him a friendly nudge whenever he notices Eddie staring too long at the back of some guy's short haircut, but it's not the same as the gentle ribbing they give each other when a cute girl walks in.

Gareth isn't into guys like he is, and that's fine.

But sometimes Eddie wishes he had someone to compare his taste in men with.

When Steve and Eddie realize they're both bisexual, they rejoice. Finally, they have someone to play their silly games with.

Except, it doesn't go at all like they'd except.

See, Steve and Eddie are both so used to having friends share their tastes in women that they don't even consider the fact that they might have different taste in men.

But they do.

They're hanging out in the lobby of the Hawkins Theater, waiting for the kids to finish getting their snacks, when Steve sees him. A guy with disheveled auburn hair and a black denim jacket cuffed at the sleeves with random patches on it. He's got a blue bandana tied around his forearm and bulky black boots.

"He's cute right?" Steve asks, nodding his head toward the guy in question.

Eddie scoffs. Scrunches up his nose like he's just smelt the worst smell imaginable and turns towards Steve. "You're kidding me, right Stevie? That dude is a grade-a-punk! A wannabe one at that! I bet he smells like cheap cigarettes and hasn't washed his hair in days."

"You smell like cheap cigarettes and don't wash your hair every day," Steve says, rolling his eyes at Eddie's outburst.

"Yeah, but I'm also broke. That guys doing it for the stupid aesthetic."

Steve scoffs and lets his eyes follow the guy until he disappears inside one of the theaters.

"Alright then, what's your type, Munson?"

Eddie hums and takes a moment to scan the crowded theater and the stops. When he turns toward Steve, he's sporting a giant grin.

"Guy. Six o'clock. By the butter dispenser."

Steve slowly turns around and nearly buckles at the knee when he spots the guy in question.

Short hair, combed back so every strand of hair is in place. He's got on a letterman jacket from one of the neighboring schools, crisp white shoes, and his left hand is tucked into the jean pocket of who he assumes to be his girlfriend.

"Him?" Steve chokes. "But he's so…"

"Pretty?"

"Jock-ish!" Steve supplies instead. "I thought you hated jocks!"

"I hate what they represent," Eddie says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He tears his eyes away from the guy and stares right at Steve. "But I can't help it if they have a cute face that's begging to be corrupted."

It isn't until days later when Steve and Eddie are both complaining to their best friends, do they realize that having different tastes might not be such a bad thing.

Especially when their taste in men is each other.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #dani writes #this is dumb but i havent shared anything in a while so here is something lol

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evilminji · 3 months

Text

Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>

@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.

But!

I seek your Knowledge(TM).

From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.

Fuck um.

He was tired of it.

But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.

It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.

If No, fuck off.

If Yes, new monarch.

Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?

He can't even get rid of it!

......by himself.

Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.

It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.

God he's so tired.

It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.

He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?

Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.

Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.

Cause none of it's his.

All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.

And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.

Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.

He's so tired.

The nightclub's pretty cool.

So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?

And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?

Halfa.

I have no idea what that is. What do you want?

He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?

Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.

Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.

He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.

Lucifer can't help notice the crown.

Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?

And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.

Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.

.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.

He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.

He can sleep on the couch.

Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.

And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.

Ah.

.....well shit.

(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.

Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?

No one knooooows~

But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)

(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #tw wounds #but only as euphemism for emotional state

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dira333 · 5 months

Text

“Get in the car.” One would suspect that Aizawa’s here to kidnap you with the face he’s pulling.

“I didn’t order an Uber.” You joke, holding onto the railing for dear life. The world’s spinning quite fast today.

“Sucks.” He grunts, holding the door open with a pointed look. “Now get in the car.”

“I can totally get home on my own, Aizawa.” You insist.

“And I’ve told you to call me Shouta. Now get in the car.”

“Where did you even get the car?” You eye it carefully. It’s not Hizashi’s Mustang that he spray paints every season - you quite liked the green and purple theme he had going on last time you saw it - and it’s not Nemuri’s sleek black sports car either.

“I bought it. Now get in.”

“You bought it?” You ask, now curious enough to take the last few steps away from the stairs. Your walk is wobbly, but that’s expected when your cane is in your bag in favor of holding onto the railing.

Aizawa’s left arm is outstretched, he’s not gripping you but allowing you to grip him however you need it. Less than a heartbeat later you’re sitting inside and to your surprise, the seat heater is on.

“Warm enough?” Aizawa asks as he slips into the driver’s seat. The car smells nice, not brand new, but like him. You’re familiar with his scent from the few times he draped his jacket over you, sometimes pretending to use you as a coat rack, other times foregoing the pretense and just admitting that you looked cold.

“Since when do you have a car?”

“I bought it last week. I wasn’t sure which one to get, though, so if Hizashi tells you anything stupid, ignore him.”

“Why? What could he tell me?”

Aizawa - Shouta, you remind yourself - scowls as if he hates being asked the question, but he still answers even though he doesn’t have to. He always does that and you’ve caught on ages ago. It’s kinda fun to pretend you’re avoiding questions you’re willingly answering.

“I made him get in and out of various cars. He’s the best actor out of all of us. You should see him pretend like he’s got a bad back.”

You laugh. “It’s nice to look out for your friends. I assume he played All Might?”

The car stops at a red light. Shouta throws you a look that tells you to stop kidding.

“Do you see me driving All Might around? Also, next time you’ve got so many blood tests scheduled, call me beforehand. I hate learning about it from Nemuri.”

“Sure, sure.” You say, surprised to see his scowl deepen.

You’re even more surprised when he takes a sudden left.

“Where are we going?”

“Getting groceries for you. You need to eat after losing that much blood.”

He parks the car only a few minutes later, mustering you for a second before he speaks up again.

“Do you want to come inside? I’m not holding you hostage if you insist, but the heating stays on and you could take a nap. I’ll be quick about it.”

“Well, if you’re asking like that…” You cuddle into the warm seat with a smile. “I’m gonna stay behind then.”

“Very well.” He slips out of his jacket and drapes it over you like a blanket - he even tucks you in - before winking at you.

“Snacks are in the glove compartment. I’ve got my phone on me if you need me.”

You only dare to open the compartment when you’re sure he’s disappeared into the store.

You’re not surprised to see your favorite snacks there, even a bag of the cookies you like, the brand you only get on the other side of the city.

There’s a new warmth now, filling you from the insides and bubbling in your heart.

Despite all of Hizashi’s teasing, all of Nemuri’s needling, all the pictures of Eri that are hanging on your walls - little Eri holding hands with you and Shouta - there’s no label for what the two of you are. What you have been growing into.

In a few minutes, he will come out with groceries, fresh produce for vitamins, and meat for strength. He will drive you to your apartment, fuss over you on the way up, and pretend he doesn’t mind that your cat’s still a little cautious about him. He will cook, like he always does, asking you questions the whole way through because he knows you love to cook but rarely have the energy to do it properly.

And after all of that, the good food, the warmth of his presence, he will lay down next to you - just for a quick nap, he says - and fall asleep with his arms around you.

You might not have a label, not a word for what the two of you are, but maybe you don’t need that anyway.

Most certainly not on a day like this.

@alienaiver

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa fluff #aizawa sensei #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha scenario

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arieslost · 2 months

Text

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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butterflyscribbles · 10 months

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I’ve been thinking so much lately about April’s ninpo powers because I love the idea that as part of the family, she has her own unique abilities just like the turtles do and they didn’t get the time to explore it in the series enough so have some headcanons that I’ve incorporated into my weird lil good future AU:

The biggest key in April’s ninpo is communication and projection. She’s the only one that can cross over to the astral plane and speak with the Hamato ancestors without outside help. However, she can help anyone else in the family cross over at the same time, but it takes a lot of focus and energy to maintain the link of two people so sometimes after long sessions, she’s exhausted.

Leo hates the feeling of his soul leaving his body so he only reaches out to his ancestors when he’s at the end of his rope as leader or feels lonely. He makes the most of every visit as a result. He loves his family to the ends of the earth and beyond, wishing he could bring himself to visit more…but the whole process makes him nervous (and nauseous). Sending Leo to the plane also wipes April out the most because his mystic energy is so weak in comparison to his brothers so she has to do the “heavy lifting” so to speak, but she doesn’t mind it one bit.

Raph takes comfort in reaching the astral plane. He’s been there before (during the season 2 finale) and seeking advice from his ancestors is something he loves and takes pride in. The process it takes to reach the astral plane is reminiscent of his own projection powers so it’s like second nature. It’s also a huge bonding experience for him and April. He even utilizes the time to practice speaking Japanese to his ancestors since he starts learning after the events of s2.

Don’s pursuit of strengthening his mystic powers is often neglected in favor of pursuing his tech and scientific discoveries. He’s an extremely powerful mystic that doesn’t believe he is because of his bias against magic. Makes it hard when your trying to reach out to your ancestors you definitely know are there…he’s seen them….and can almost feel them….he just can’t fully will his mystic energy to reach out that far beyond his control and without an exact “target”, no matter how many times April helps try to drive it down the right path, so the energy just spirals in all directions and never reaches far enough. He’s never made it to the astral plane…yet.

Mikey is a low-key show off. His mystic abilities are off the charts and he can very nearly reach the astral plane by himself on sheer energy alone. However, April is the one that has to provide the right pathway for him to follow to get there since he’s a little all over the place, especially in the beginning of him reigning in his powers. When Mikey is around, he lifts her up and their energy intertwines as they cross the barrier into the astral plane with ease. April barely has to lift a finger to get there too so she’s not as exhausted after guiding Mikey there.

#rise april #rise leo #rise raph #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #sotau #some other time au #more to come I’ve just gotta draw it my brain is so full of turtles again lately aughghgggghh

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uniquedinosaurdreamland · 5 months

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Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader

-Annoying-

yay (kind of hate the ending but lol)

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Annoying- 🩷

🌸

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning sunshine?” Lucy smirked as she caught sight of you walking into the change room with a scowl covering your face. “Where are the other two, thought you guys were attached at the hip.” Lucy continued to tease.

“I can’t deal with Mapi right now, so I am going to stay far away from her otherwise I will kill her.” You said to your national teammate trying to control your emotions and stay calm. The morning started like any other waking up between your two girlfriends, engulfed in warmth until you all had to get up and get ready for training.

You don’t know why but Mapi had woken up in an extra annoying mood and her sole purpose was to make you want to pull your hair out. She knew how much you hated to be poked and tickled so all she had been doing those exact things, in the bathroom, when you were making coffee, when you just passed each other in your morning routines and even when you were walking down the stairs causing you to almost slip as well as lose your shit. Mapi had also turned to making fun of your height, you were only a few centimetres shorter then the older women but that was enough for her.

You had grown up with three older brothers who took pride in how ticklish you were and who sit on you and poke and prod until you couldn’t breathe. They had traumatised you so much that you hated anyone even making the movement of poking or tickling as it made you squirm. Yet Mapi didn’t care, loving your pouting face when she did it.

She had riled you up so much you had decided to drive yourself to training instead of getting driven by Ingrid. “You're an idiot.” Ingrid directed to Mapi, shaking her head as she watched you pull out of the driveway.

“Come on, it was just a joke, Corazón.” Mapi said, trying to defend herself.

“You know how much Y/N hates you poking and tickling her, and yet you continued.” Ingrid replied, grabbing her keys from the counter to take the other car to training since you had taken the main one.

“She’ll get over it.”

You in fact did not ‘get over it’ instead you worked hard to ignore your Spanish girlfriend through the entire training session, moving away when she stood too close, ignoring her calls from across the field, deciding to only speak to the older woman when you were placed on the same team for a game at the end of training.

Ingrid watched from the sidelines with Frido and Keira sat on either side of her, she laughed lightly as you scored a goal moving to high five your team members except for Mapi who had her hand up for you only to get brushed. “What's up with your girls?” Frido asked.

“Mapi was annoying Y/N and now Y/N won’t speak to Mapi so I’m just leaving them to sort it out, like always.” The three watched as Mapi ran by you pushing out a finger to hit your side, you scowled, hitting her hand away while Mapi smirked back winking.

“At the World Cup Ella and Alessia tried to tickle Y/N, she almost killed them. Lucy can vouch for me, she was the one having to hold little miss sunshine back from strangling them.” Keira said remembering the time you had been napping on one of the couches at national camp and Ella and Alessia had woken you up by tickling you under your arms and around your neck.

“Mapi needs to learn when to stop and she will learn her lesson once she takes it too far. Y/N did grow up with three older brothers.” Ingrid said shrugging her shoulder, she’d seen enough of Mapi teasing you and she knew you always got the last laugh.

Not even a minute later Mapi had snuck up on you and proceeded to tickle you, you let out a scream as you tried to get out of her tight grasp. You had finally been pushed over the edge and once you finally got out of her grip you turned around using all your force to tackle your Spanish girlfriend to the ground. Mapi wasn’t a typically ticklish person but you knew of the one spot on her neck that was very ticklish.

So with Mapi’s arms pinned under your knees your hands made their way to that spot that made the defender laugh and squirm underneath you. Mapi begged you to stop, being too weak from being tickled to throw you off. After a few moments she finally mustered the strength to get her arms from under your knees to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.

“Calm down mi amor.” Mapi laughed as she now had your hands pinned down.

“I hate you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I am sorry I have been annoying you. I will stop now if you calm down.” Mapi said looking down at you with her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“I hope you know I will get you back.” You stared back up at her as she got off you offering you her hand to be pulled up.

“I’m sure you will Cariño.” The slightly taller woman said, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, smirking as she noticed you trying to hide your smile at the action. The whistle had been blown to end the game without you two realising so you both started to walk to your other girlfriend who stood talking with Frido and Keira waiting for you both.

Mapi stopped to talk as you grabbed a water bottle to drink from, before you made your way to the locker room you had one last plan. Turning to Mapi once again who had her back faced to you, you put your foot up and pushed it into the back of her knee successfully giving her a dead leg. You laughed loudly as her knee crumbled, with the mix of the dead leg and the hard training session her leg wasn’t working.

You weren’t sticking around to deal with Mapi’s annoyance, ignoring her colourful language and laughing as Ingrid hit her on the back of the head running to fall into step with Lucy. You were quick to move to the shower once you got back to the locker room. You had finished getting dressed in your (Ingrid’s) hoodie and some shorts.

“You are annoying.” Mapi said as the three of you said your goodbyes and moved to the parking lot to head home.

“I know.” You smiled back. “But I’ll go get some stuff for dinner on the way home, so you can’t stay mad at me.” You said as you walked to the car you had taken while Ingrid and Mapi walked to the other one.

Starting the car and pulling out, sending light smiles to the fans that were hanging around the entrance. Your shopping trip was quick, grabbing the last few things to make your mum's famous soup recipe before making your way back home. Quickly grabbing your training bag and shopping bags from the boot you unlocked your front door and headed into the kitchen.

Blowing a kiss to Ingrid who sat on the couch reading a book, not knowing where your other lover was but just figured she was in your shared room somewhere. Not having to start dinner for another two hours you put all the groceries away before moving to the couch flopping down so your head was sat on Ingrid's lap.

“Hei Kjære.”(Hello Darling) Ingrid smiling down at you moving to press a soft kiss to your lips, you smiled against hers as she pulled away to continue her book. You smiled as Bagheera jumped up onto your lap, your fingers threaded themselves though his fur getting a satisfied purr from the cat.

You were too focused on Bagheera to notice Mapi finally made her way from the bedroom to the lounge. The older woman smiled at the scene in front of her before moving to take Bagheera away. “Hey, give me my precious boy back.” You whined as Mapi moved the now sleeping cat to his bed.

“No cause you need to hug tu novia.”(your girlfriend) Mapi smiled, moving to lay down.

“You're annoying though.” You looked up at her teasingly.

“Lástima.”(Too bad) Mapi said before running full speed ahead to launch herself on top of you. Immediately burying her head into your neck, your hands made their way up her hoodie to scratch her back lightly.

“Why can’t you get along like this all the time.” Ingrid said, looking down at the two of you.

“Because my love, Maria is like a child she needs attention all the time and she thinks in order to get the attention she wants she has to poke and tickle.” You smiled up at your Norwegian lover, Mapi didn’t seem to like your comment as she grabbed onto your sides and dug into them with her fingers.

You immediately tried to get her off and you did which meant that Mapi was now on the ground. “I take it back.” Ingrid mutters under her breath as she once again watches the two of you get into a play fight. Which ends up with you over Mapi’s shoulder as she pokes you in the stomach over and over.

“STOP PLEASE STOP.” You yelled.

“Say I am the best most amazing person ever.” Mapi said, stopping her movements for a moment.

“No.” You squealed again as Mapi started to poke you again, not letting you move down from over her shoulder as you banged on her back. “Fine, you are the best most amazing person ever. Happy.” And with that you were placed back on your feet.

“Very.” Mapi looked down at you, as you moved to get out of her grip and return to your position on the sofa she pulled you in and connected your lips. Mapi moved to deepen the kiss, your legs feeling weak as she squeezed your hips, but before she would get carried away you pushed her away gently.

“I have to get dinner ready.” You said simply pecking her lips one more time before moving to the kitchen, Mapi happily making her way over to Ingrid to cuddle into her side.

You spent the rest of the night eating and watching a new movie that Ingrid had picked out, you were first to call quits and head to bed finishing your night routine before hopping into bed while your lovers finished the movie. An hour later the movie finished and Ingrid and Mapi headed up to bed, catching sight of you snuggled into the sheets made their hearts flutter.

Ingrid climbed into her side on the left after she was finished, closely followed by Mapi who took her side on the right on either side of you. Ingrid and Mapi’s hands intertwined over your waist as Ingrid snuggled into your neck and Mapi pulled your head gently to rest on her chest, the three of you now in a deep sleep tired from the fun but annoying day you had.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #lionesses #lucy bronze

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astorianyxkings · 5 months

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Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

#dc comics #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #dc robin #Marisol was Dick's social worker #Yeah Bruce had to spend a half an hour reassuring Clark that he was fine and Robin just scared him a little #(half to death #he saw the light)#I stand firm on the headcannon that Bruce's contingency plan for himseld has and always will be Dick #The rest of the batfam don't know why since Dick's the only one who takes fhe no kill rule harder than the old man himself #but whatever #Bruce and Dick angst is my favourite flavour #I hate it cuz I love it

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boiohboii · 6 months

Text

The people's sweethearts

Chapter 1

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

Max and Yn Verstappen are close, really close, some would even say they are too close for being siblings, after all it's not usual for an 18 year old to go live with her older brother in a country 2 hours away (by plane) from her university rather than just to rent something close by.

Everyone had very harsh words to say about the pair of siblings, some still do but these are just people who hate max verstappen and they know nothing angers him more than someone insulting his baby sister, everyone was very vocal about how strange, weird and abnormal it is for 2 grown siblings to live together.

Everyone thought that the Verstappen siblings would change their living arrangements after Max and Kelly found each other, only to be surprised by Max buying a bigger penthouse that'd be enough for all 4 of them.

Everyone was negative about the prospect of the redbull formula one driver being followed around by his little sister until the release of The Anatomy of A Champion came out.

When the producers of the show pitched in the idea of talking to yn, max had refused, he wanted his sister nowhere near any of these vultures knowing how bad it can, and most probably will, get. Max was aware from a very young age that what his dad was constantly saying and doing to him and his sister wasn't normal, whenever he was at a race he would see the other boys' dad's hugging them and telling them they did a good job even if they didn't get first place, he would see how other's would have their father waiting for them with water and towels, and most importantly he would see how other dad's had their daughter on their shoulder making the other little girls laugh; Why does dad only make yn cry?

He remembers it so clearly, the way his father hit his sister because of something out of her control, something that she didn't even ask for, something that was thrown at her, it was the day his sister got her soulmark.

Everyone had a soulmark that appeared on their 5th birthday and today was yn's which made jos take her to the soul doctor. Soulmarks were complicated, which is why soul doctors were important, they let you know more about your mark and the bond that's to form between you and your other half.

"Wow young lady, you'll have twice the amount of love it seems."

"What?"

Max knew his father's tone, he know that he's angry and he unconsciously held onto yn's hand, hoping that his father wouldn't take his anger out on her.

"Well Mr Verstappen you see these lines," the doctor gently held up yn's wrist, turning it over to show off her newly given mark "that's an indicator of one soulmate, I'd say he is 3 or 4 years older than her given the shade of the mark, while this other lines that are in a circular shape indicate the other soulmate, he seems to also be around 3 or 4 years older as well. It looks like the mark that indicates young miss yn here is the moon, with how the moon is in the center I would say that yn would be the last in the group meaning that her two other soulmates will meet each other before they meet her."

Jos was angry throughout their drive home, he had already smacked yn into the car while rushing her to get in and as soon as they were in the car he hit her across the head, his arms tall enough to reach the young girl in the backseat. That was the first time max heard these words that would be so easy to recite within a few weeks.

"Two soulmates? Why couldn't you just be normal, why do you have to be such a slut?"

The ride back home was one of the worst max and yn had ever expirenced.

"Two soulmates, ridiculous.They're not even going to want you! They'd meet each other before they even know you!! At least if you turn out to be good for nothing I can just pimp you out on the street, maybe then you'd be useful, and it's not like your soulmates will even like you or want you. Unlovable whore."

"So," the interviewer started as Sophie Kumpen sat on a white sofa in Max's home in Monaco "how is your relationship with your youngest?"

"It's not as close as I'd want it to be," the mother of three confessed as she looked into the camera "yn is a very sweet girl, she had been through a lot. When Jos and I divorced she wasn't really aware of what was going on, she was too young to understand, and as she grew older all she could see was Max. He had been the one to take care of her: i remember once when Max was around ten years old he called me up, asking me how to make a soup because yn was sick and jos was out god knows where.

Max and YN were and are always there for each other, and I don't think that will ever change. I'm sure everyone thought their relationship will sort of tweak a bit when Max and Kelly met each other, but I don't think Max will ever allow that and it's not like Kelly even tried to change their relationship, she was the one who was apartment hunting for all of them while Max was racing and Yn was back in England for her university."

"Do you think yn is putting in the effort to be there for Max?"

"Oh definitely, I mean studying mechanical engineering along with aerospace engineering at one of the top universities in the world is enough proof. Her whole life revolves around Max and I don't think it's a bad thing. Max had been her everything, he's the one she always goes to cause he is all she knows. When she was deciding what to do right after high-school all she said was that she will choose the majors that'll help her get an internship at formula one so that she'd be there with Max for the rest of his races, however long he wants to be there."

"Do you know what happened between Jos, Max and Yn? Don't you think it's weird that once Max turned 18 he asked Christian Horner to ban his father from the paddock? And to help him have yn with him as much as possible?"

"I'm not really going to go into the details of it, but Jos has done a lot of damage, especially to yn. It's not something I can talk about, not that I even want to, but Jos was a terrible husband and a wose father, I'm insanely glad that yn and max turned out as good and well as they are. Seeing them so close is not something that's surprising me given what Jos did to them, to yn" Sophie's voice broke as a few tears escaped her eyes "sorry, it's just, what she had to go through, it's traumatic and I'm happy that she had Max with her through it all. It fills my heart with joy seeing the little family Max and Yn formed with Kelly and Penelope"

ch. II

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landrywrites · 10 months

Text

ethan landry — good girl

warnings: smut. porn what plot. dom ethan, vaginal penetration ( p in v ). unprotected sex. ( don’t do that ) ethan pulls out tho dw. praise kink. light teasing, dacryphilia if you squint. dumbification ( ? ) sub / dom dynamic. established relationships. basic aftercare.

let me know if i missed anything.

summary: where ethan learns that you have a praise kink, and he will never let you live it down.

, posersays: might do a part two with headcanons about this.. would you want that ? also please read my rules before requesting 🫶

ethan was currently fucking himself into you like a dog in heat. it’s been what you felt like hours in this position. you were writhing under him, tears were streaming down your face. you were so tired but ethan wasn’t satisfied. he almost never was, he basically lived buried in your cunt. and if you didn’t enjoy the way he practically manhandled you, you’d have complaints. and you did but as soon as he rubbed the tip of his cock on your wet folds, the complaints fall from your tongue with every thrust he so graciously drilled into you.

“fuck fuck fuck eth- fuck.” you were dumbed out, screaming these obscene curses at him. “language sweetheart, watch your mouth when you speak to me.” he doesn’t like your tone of voice, those curses shouldn’t be falling from your pretty lips, especially towards him of all people. even if the way you cursed went straight to his dick, he wasn’t about to deal with it. hating and loving the way those curses sounded from you.

“m’ sorry, won’t do it again.” you say dumbly, so easily, as if you weren’t cursing at him a few seconds ago. before he could even think about it he lets out a soft, “good girl, always listen so well.” and you suddenly clench around his length at the praise.

he noticed the way you’d clench your thighs as soon as he told you a simple “good job.” numerous times. you were so obvious, but you kept it to yourself not wanting him to stop praising you like that. afraid you’d gross him out, but it was actually the opposite. he’s wanted to call you that for so long but he never found the right opportunity without making it awkward, when will he find a better time than this?

a loud whine from you, only in your wet dreams he praises you like that, you’ve had countless fantasies about it. vibrator pressed up against your aching cunt at the mere thought of someone telling you that you’re ‘such a good girl.’ it’s your favorite thing to hear yet no one has ever said it to you, until now.

he stops in his thrusts. “oh? you like that? like it when i call you good girl?” he already knew the answer. just wants to tease you, force it out of you so he can abuse it. you could only shake your head, you kept trying to hide the fact you liked- no loved it but you can’t help the way you squeeze around him, body betraying you. you curse at yourself before moving your hips to get him to start fucking you again. it was painful the way you felt him throb inside of you. it made more tears fall down your face.

“nuh uh, good girls don’t do that. do they? they wait patiently to be given what they deserve.” he taunts you. there it is again, you’re clenching around him involuntarily. he’s praising you the way you’ve always dreamed of, but you can’t help but deny it. he wipes the tears from your eyes and coos at you, groaning at the way your walls are basically swallowing him in.

“answer me. do good girls do that?” he asks, voice low as he slowly starts to thrust back into you which makes you let out a another whine. “n-no, they don’t.” — “what do good girls do then?” — “they- they wait to be given what they deserve.” his slow thrusts driving you insane, but his words are only making you wetter. needier than ever before, but also wanting to hear the praise again you still and wait to be given what you deserve.

“that’s right, you’re a good girl aren’t you? my good girl?” and you swear you could’ve came based off his words alone. “say it.” he demands. “m’ your good girl.” — “that’s right, you’re my good girl. so, so good for me.” he starts thrusting back into you at the same pace he was before, if not harder. making your eyes roll back as saliva dripped down the side of your mouth. you looked so beautiful like this, all fucked out. the way the tears stained your pretty cheeks, the moans that left your swollen lips, god just everything about you.

you feel more and more tears fall down your face, your orgasm quickly approaching. he can’t last long either with the way your body is responding, so eager to please him. his bruising touch on your hips as a reminder of who’s fucking you. the scratches on his back an indicator of who’s making you feel so good, marking each other up like fucking animals.

“m- m’ gonna-” — “i know, sweet girl. i know.” — “please, please wan- wanna cum so bad.” — “that’s okay sweetheart, let it go. be a good girl and cum for me.” and so you do, your back arching beautifully against him. he keeps fucking into you letting you ride out your high before pulling out and releasing on your stomach. you’re both heavily panting, before you start laughing, throw your head back laughter. even with tears and saliva everywhere, you’re laughing.

“what are you laughing at?” he breaths out, grabbing wet wipes from the drawers next to you guys. “sorry- sorry it’s just. wow. that was so much better than i imagined. it’s funny to me, not in a bad way but like.. damn” — “was it? i didn’t pressure you too much did i?” he asks in concern as he rubs the cum off your stomach with a wipe fully before trashing it and using another to wipe your body down. you sigh at the feeling.

“no, it was perfect. loved every second of it.” — “well, i’m glad to hear that. i had a good time as well.” — “yeah i could tell.” you smile wider and him and he reciprocates. “wanna shower?” — “mm not right now, jus wanna feel you against me.” holding him close to you, he hums. “alright, but we shower in 10 minutes, gotta change the sheets too..” — “we can do that later, just let me hold you like this.” — “okay but i swear if you let me fall asleep..” — “i won’t, i won’t.. don’t like sleeping in dirty sheets anyways. let’s just stay like this for a little bit.”

“whatever you want then, i love you so much. you know that?” he says softly, you giggle against his hair. “i do, i love you so much more.” you guys just talk about the experience, he teases you some more but not harshly. after you guys shower and clean up, change the sheets and everything you guys drift off to sleep, holding each other softly through the night.

, posersays: hope you liked it 🙈

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twitchmattentusiast · 4 months

Text

˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄, matt sturniolo !

summary: in which matt sturniolo decides to tease his best best friend after finding out what books she actually likes to read

contains: smut obvs, teasing, praising, masturbation, dom!matt, degrading? FEM OC!

requested: no. this is my first smut

also i genuinely can’t do the y/n shit 😭😭 so the female will have a name for chris one shots and for matt ones.

matt knew that his best friend loved to read, and for as long as he can remember, his earliest memories included teasing his best friend as she sat on the school hill with some type of book in her hands as matt and his brothers played some sport during recess.

as stella got older, that didn’t change at all. whenever matt went over, her bookshelves were filled to the brim; some books had to be on the floor. the floor was covered in so many books that matt couldn’t even see the floor. not only that, she constantly left a supply of books literally everywhere; matt couldn’t even count on one hand how many times she'd left one of her books in his car or his room.

though matt knew stella loved to read, he didn’t quite know what she liked to read; he assumed since she was a sucker for rom-coms that she read corny shit like that, so he just always continued to tease her at the fact that when she came over to his, she’d sit on his bed reading under a blanket while he played some video game, the pair of them both sitting in a comfortable silence as one read and the other played video games for hours.

it was only a week ago, though, when matt found out what stella actually read about.

you see, last friday, chris and stella thought it would be a great idea to get absolutely wasted at a party a few towns over. matt wasn’t really feeling a party at all that night, so only stella, nick, and chris went. apparently, chris and stella got a little too wasted and started oversharing literally everything.

a drunk stella revealed to a sober nick that she read smut books.

to say that matt was shocked was an understatement. hearing that his best friend wasn't reading the fluffy corny shit he assumed she was reading shocked him enough, but then he learned that not only has his innocent best friend been reading smut since the age of 12; she’s been reading the most degrading, filthy smut on a daily basis.

you see, ever since nick told matt the type of books stella reads, he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head—the idea that his innocent best friend, who literally gets grossed out the second chris starts going into detail about a girl he made out with or a girl he fucked in the last week, was reading smut? holy shit, it was driving him insane.

and that’s the exact reason why matt is seated on his gaming chair, a smirk on his face as his eyes follow the figure of his best friend looking around his room in a panic.

“looking for something, stell?” matt asked in confusion.

though matt knew exactly what she was looking for.

stella chewed at the bottom of her lip in frustration as she scanned another corner of matt’s room. she silently scolded herself. how could she be so fucking stupid and accidentally leave another one of her books lying around?

it was around two hours ago when stella had just gotten back from work. she showered quickly as soon as she stepped foot into the house, and she had planned to finish the book she was reading: twisted hate, the third book in the series her best friend had recommended, but when she opened up her bedside table, it was nowhere to be seen.

stella instantly panicked. she had always been careless with her books, forgetting where she had left them, but she really couldn’t believe she left a book like that somewhere.

she tried to remember where she could have left it when she remembered reading it at the triplets house a few days ago, and so she quickly called matt, telling him she was coming over in hopes of getting her book back as soon as possible.

only when she stepped into matt’s room her book was literally nowhere. which confused the fuck out of stella, to be honest, because she swore she left it in matt’s room unless she left it in nick’s? or even worse, chri-

matt chuckled as he watched her frustration grow. “what are you looking for?” he tried again. “maybe if you tell me, i can help you.” he suggested

stella hesitated; she wasn’t really sure if she wanted matt helping her; if he found the book before her, he might read the blurb or something, and the idea of matt knowing what she read . . . no thanks. but then again, she desperately needed her book back, so she sighed. "i’m looking for my book,” she told him, missing how matt smirked at her words. the plan he had set was starting to move its toggles.

"i think i might have left it in your room by accident. have you seen it? it’s kind of redish and it’s called twisted hate.”

matt’s eyes lit up at the mention of the title. "redish, huh?" he mused, pretending to act as if he’d never heard of the book before. after a minute of silence, his eyes lit up in some sort of remembrance.

“oh yeah, you left it here the other day.” He told her.

stella sighed in relief. thank god, she thought. “where is it?” she asked him. usually, when she left a book in his room, he left it on his gaming desk for her, but this time it wasn’t there.

with a sinister grin, matt stood up from his chair and started to walk around the room, searching for the book. "i’m sure i put it somewhere safe," he said nonchalantly, knowing damn well where exactly it was. after some pretend searching, he finally "found" it hidden under a stack of old comic books on top of his dresser.

he walked towards her, slowing down as he approached her. stella sighed in relief, reaching out to grab the book, but matt pulled it away at the last second and smirked at her. “oh, you can’t have it back yet.” he told her.

stella’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why?” she asked in confusion.

“because i’m borrowing it.”

stella’s eyes widened slightly at his words, though she attempted to appear casual. “what do you mean you’re borrowing it?” she chuckled nervously. “you don’t even know how to read.” she joked.

matt chuckled at her words, "insane." he said, before shrugging, "i’m not really bothered about the words, though, when i can do the actions.”

“actions?"

"yeah, you know, the dirty stuff in the book." matt smirked.

stella’s face began to pale. matthew sturniolo, her best. friend. since. kindergarten, knows what’s in those books she reads. this was like her own personal hell. "what are you talking about?” stella asked as she attempted to still save herself.

"don't play dumb with me, stell." matt walked closer to her, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "i know exactly what you like to read about; don't deny it."

her eyes widened, and her mouth froze, unable to get any words out. because what the actual fuck? “chapter 18 was hot, don’t you think?” he teased.

“you’ve read it?” stella squeaked.

matt ignored her. though his silence was enough, he'd totally read it, and she wanted to die. "tell me, stella,” matt said as he brushed a curl behind her ear. “when you’re in my bed reading these books, do you touch yourself?”

stella’s heart raced as he spoke so close to her ear, goosebumps forming on her exposed neck. she bit down hard on her bottom lip, unable to meet his gaze directly. "n-no," she managed to croak out.

matt titled his head to the side. “you lying to me, stell?”

stella’s heart pounded in her chest. she shook her head vigorously, trying to deny it, but the truth was there, hiding somewhere deep inside of her. "m-maybe once..." she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

“only once?”

stella nodded her head, and matt hummed, his hand caressing her cheek softly. “hm,” he said after a moment. "should i tell you how many times i’ve touched myself reading that book?” he asked.

stella’s breath hitched at his words, her cheeks flushing crimson red as she tried to think of something else, but now all she could think about was matt reading her book and touching himself to it.

matt smirked. “since you secretly touch yourself when we’re hanging out and when you read that book, why don’t you touch yourself for me so i can read it to you?"

stella’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. part of her was terrified, but another part was excited. the idea of matt reading out the books she reads in his very room under a thick blanket where she grew so wet she couldn’t take it anymore sounded too good; she didn’t know if she could pass that up. though she was scared of their friendship and what could happen, the heat grew unbearable, and suddenly she felt her pussy drip at matt’s words.

"yes," she croaked out.

matt’s eyes lit up, and he couldn't help but grin widely before sitting back down in his gaming chair. "good girl," he praised.

stella stood there nervously until matt told her to go and lie on his bed. she followed his instructions and quickly laid on his bed, watching as he opened up the book. he smirked at her. “let’s read 26 yeah? i haven’t read it yet.”

stella nodded too anxiously and excitedly to even say anything as she watched matt flicker through the pages before grinning widely as he stopped at chapter 26. he wasted no time at all and started reading the words of the page. stella felt herself grow wetter as matt read the dirty words, and her breath hitched suddenly as he looked over at her. “touch yourself, baby," he instructed.

she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but ultimately she couldn't resist the urge anymore. slowly, tentatively, she reached down, feeling glad she decided to wear a skirt today, and brushed her hand against her pants, feeling the wetness spread across them.

"fuck.." she moaned softly, arching her hips into the touch. matt grinned and started reading again once he knew she had started touching herself.

“look at you,” matt cooed as she began rubbing circles around her clit, “touching yourself like a fucking slut while i read this dirty book to you.”

stella’s breath hitched as she continued to pleasure herself, her hips rocking against the bed in sync with matt’s words. her moans grew louder, and she couldn't help but close her eyes, lost in the sensation. “soo pathetic.” matt laughed, “bet you touch yourself and imagine it’s us fucking, huh?”

she nodded frantically. "yeah," she panted out between breaths.

matt chuckled, “look at you, not even trying to deny it anymore; you’re pathetic, stella.”

stella’s heart raced as he continued to read aloud. she moved the fingers that had made her way inside of her unknowingly even faster, rubbing harshly at her clit with her thumb. "i’m so close, matt," she moaned.

matt suddenly stopped talking. stella furrowed her eyebrows, looking at him in confusion as she stopped touching herself. “wh-“

“chapters over," matt sighed. “that was a short chapter.” he fake pouted

stella groaned, her body still tensing from the brink of orgasm. "more, please," she begged, unable to control herself anymore.

matt chuckled darkly, standing up from his chair and walking slowly towards her. he reached out a hand, helping her sit up before leaning down and capturing her lips in a hot, hungry kiss. stella kissed back hungrily. his tongue demanded entrance into her mouth, and she moaned into it, returning the favour eagerly. after a moment, he broke the kiss, his breath coming heavy. "i guess i could finish another chapter for you." he said, and stella nodded her head quickly. “of i could fuck you like those sluts you read about."

stella’s heart raced wildly as he spoke, her body trembling with anticipation. she bit down on her bottom lip, unsure of what she wanted. after a long moment of silence, she managed to whisper, "fuck me."

matt smirked. “take your clothes off.” he demanded.

stella hesitated for a moment, her hands shaking as she began to undress herself, first removing her top, revealing her lacy bra, then her skirt and pants. she stood naked before him, her breasts jiggling slightly as she stepped out of her underwear. "now you," she said breathlessly.

matt chuckled. he underessed himself slowly, revealing his muscular torso and a pair of black boxers that were tenting in an obvious fashion. finally, he kicked them off, exposing his thick, hardened cock, glistening with pre-cum.

"get on your knees and suck me," he ordered, and stella didn't hesitate. she fell to her knees before him, her lips brushing against the head of his cock as she wrapped one hand around the base, stroking him rhythmically. her tongue traced along the underside of his shaft, teasing it before she took him fully into her mouth, deep-throating him with ease.

matt groaned, his hand tangling in her hair. "that's a good girl," he praised. "now touch yourself while you suck me."

stella whimpered softly, her fingers finding their way back between her legs, rubbing circles around her clit again.

matt moaned, his hips thrusting upward into her mouth and his cock hitting the back of her throat. his free hand reached down to fondle one of her breasts roughly, pinching and tweaking her nipple hard enough to make her yell. she moaned around his cock, making him thrust even harder into her mouth. “fuck stell, feels so good, baby.” he moaned.

stella’s body trembled with pleasure as she continued to please him, her tongue working over his cock expertly while her hand rubbed her clitoral area faster. she moaned in response to his rough treatment of her nipple, her body reacting to the dual sensation. her moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as she felt her orgasm approaching once again.

matt growled, his cock throbbing in her mouth as he felt her nearing climax. "come on, stell, cum for me." he commanded, and she did just that, her walls clenching tightly as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her body.

stella’s moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as she orgasmed again, her body shaking violently in ecstasy. meanwhile, matt didn't hold back either; his own release was imminent. with a loud groan, he pulled out of her mouth, his cum painting her face and neck while he jerked himself off, shooting his cum all over her chest and stomach.

stella breathed heavily, moaning as she looked down and saw matt’s cum all over her chest and tits. “please, matt,” she begged.

matt chuckled. "what do you want, stell?" he asked, reaching over to clean some of the mess off her body with his tongue.

"more," she replied, moaning as his mouth started to suck on her nipple after matt licked the cum on it. her hands flew straight to his hair, gripping it tight. "i need you inside me so badly, matt, please.” she begged.

"you’re so needy.” matt chuckled as he moved down her body. he pushed her onto the bed, kissing her all the way up to where she needed him most. instead of fucking her like she had begged him too, he inserted a finger inside of her. “you’re so wet," he smirked.

stella groaned, her body arching into his touch as he kissed and teased her sensitive areas. "matt, please..." she pleaded, her voice becoming more desperate.

"not yet," he taunted, his hand trailing to cup her wetness, rubbing her clitoral area in circles. "want you to beg more."

stella’s breath hitched, her nails digging into his back as she whined, "please, matt, i need you now, please." her body was trembling with desire, begging for release.

matt smirked. “turn around, baby," he told her, and before she even had the chance, matt pushed her head into a pillow, her ass hanging into the air as he spanked it. “you want me to fuck you like a whore so fucking badly, huh?"

stella’s heart skipped a beat as he spanked her ass, the stinging sensation only fueling her desire. "yes! please, matt!" she pleaded, her voice cracking with need.

matt chuckled, reaching between her legs to tease her sensitive spot once more. "so eager for me to take you, huh?" he taunted.

stella whimpered, her hips buckling back against his touch, desperately seeking more. "y-yes!" she managed to choke out between gasps.

matt lined up his cock with her tight entrance and pushed inside her slowly, filling her up completely. "oh god, matt..." her moans turned into high-pitched moans of pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, hitting all the right spots. his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her steady as he pounded into her from behind.

matt groaned, his hips moving in sync with hers, each powerful thrust sending waves of pleasure throughout her entire body. "you feel so fucking good, stell," he panted out between heavy breaths.

“fuck, matt, i-“

“hold it.”

stella’s nails scratched the bedsheet as she tried to comply, her orgasm crashing over her like waves. "i-i can't..." she whimpered.

"just hold on." he growled, continuing to thrust into her.

stella nodded, but her walls started to clench, driving matt to the edge. “cum for me, baby," he told her, and stella came instantly, her mouth hanging open as she screamed. matt watched. “oh god, stell," matt groaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before he finally released himself inside her, filling her up completely with his thick cum. he buried his face in her neck, panting heavily as their bodies slowly started to calm down from the intense high.

stella’s body trembled with exhaustion, her legs shaking as she came down from the powerful orgasm. "m-matt..." she managed to utter in between heavy pants.

“that was fucking amazing." he panted, pulling out of her slowly, his cock still coated in their shared fluids. gently, he helped her lie down beside him, their bodies sticky and sweaty.

matt wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. stella closed her eyes, feeling exhausted; usually, sex like that knocked her straight out.

matt watched her with a slight smile. “stell?”

“hm?” she mumbled tiredly.

"i think you should bring another smut book over next time.”

stella rolled her eyes, smacking him on his arm and smirking as he groaned, “shut the fuck up and go to sleep, you dork.” she laughed.

matt didn’t need to be told twice. “yes, ma'am.” he said, wrapping his arm tighter around her body and kissing her neck before the pair both fell asleep.

unfortunately, though, matt ended up forgetting to lock his door.

“WHAT THE FUCK? NEXT TIME LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR?”

｡°✩

this was so long holy fuck😭😭😭

this is like the first smut i’ve wrote that’s been seen by someone other than one of my ibfs so if this sucks i’m so sorry😭

umm let me know if y’all want more/ if u got requests?

- 𝓷. ᥫ᭡

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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