#but then you know. i was given a Decent Amount of Money and i was like weelllll | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m0nsterqzzz · 9 days

Text

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar -

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

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You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack.

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives.

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

#wanda maximoff x you #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x you #piano

506 notes · View notes

leclercsbunny · 7 months

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maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz

part six ♡ masterlist

f1chai sainz and ricciardo allegedly got into a scuffle, sky news report. the two have come up on recent news due to their involvement with yn, as both drivers have been closely linked with the spanish socialite. the f1 management is reportedly investigating this matter, and are adamant to deal out swift and just penalties for both drivers involved. neither teams have expressed their side regarding this matter.

username i would pay good money to see them fist fight

username and nobody caught it on their camera ?? LAMEEEE

username see i would have screamed world star‼️

username hmmm arguing who's the daddy

username will forever be astounded of yn, bagging these men in the same breath

username yikes

username penalty for ocon!!

username don't let these men back on track fia (10392)

username so... private school fighting? pointing at eachother and then screaming?! 🤔🤔🤔

username "sainz and ricciardo had to be separated by several staff in a fit of blind rage."

username "the australian driver emerged with an upset expression, a bruising prominent on his jaw and a crimson eyebrow. the spaniard later on followed suit, an expression of annoyance evident, armed with a busted lip and a limp to his gait."

username so a fight FIGHT. they were scrapping to scrap 😳😳

username oh i know they were just swinging wildly

username ten bucks daniel would have laid carlos on his ass

username disagree. have you seen carlos's hands? he's punching to knock some sense into daniel

username yeah but daniel has the force of justice behind his blows

username not if he's the father. screwing your mate's ex girl while they're on the rocks?

username what do you mean on the rocks?? he cheated on her publicly. then they broke up. then partied like his life depended on it? 🙄🤨

f1chai daniel ricciardo adds fuel to the fire by posting a shady instagram story amid the controversy surrounding him today. several news outlet reports that the australian pilot have been fined a sum of 5,000 euros for recklessly behaving and have been reprimanded alongside sainz. to waive the penalty, the pair were urged to make ammends, and publicly acknowledge their wrongs for disrupting the peaceful atmosphere present in f1. his response is as follows; "i won't apologize."

username ATEEEEEEEEE

username stop playing with him 😳😳😳

username yeah that will tell them🤦🏻‍♀️😂

username they keep letting these men buy their way into being a decent human being... they'll cash out everytime !!

username i love when men are shady

username DANIEL WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

username what if they used chairs ?? would that be atleast 10k ??

username that's spare change for these men 😭😭😭 who assigned these amount?

username it's a minor misdemeanor, it's already blown out of proportition🤭

username yeah but that's like what?? one tyre and a steering wheel ?? 😭😭😭

username so close !! steering wheels could go up to six figures 😂😂

username i stand corrected

username daniel: ... so can i pay in advance to throw hands? 🤔😂

f1chai both sainz and ricciardo have declined to elaborate regarding their public spat, and have expressed very little about their issue. no direct apologies were addressed to eachother nor was there any indication they regretted they came to blows. new reports claim that the reason of them being tight-lipped had everything to do with the paternity of yn's alleged baby, and although at odds with eachother, both sainz and ricciardo are adamant on maintaining her privacy at this delicate moment.

username enemies 4 life

username awww yn's boys🥲🥲

username the boys you speak of would push eachother on the track if given the opportunity🥰

username yeah boys‼️

username daniel probably talked maaaaad smack

username only reasonable explanation

username not necessarily, i would have been throwing hands regardless. like wym you've been comforting MY girl?!

username they broke up though

username on a break** this has been yn and carlos' dance since forever

username man shut up. yn deserves better than a man who has a very fickle sense of loyalty.

username he has some serious issues

username ALLEGEDLY okay ALLEGEDLY daniel took a swipe at matteo's parentage and said something along the lines of "you're gonna fuck up another kid's childhood just because you can't keep it in your pants?" non verbatim 😳😳

username YOOOOOOO

username that's WILD to even comprehend, imagine hearing it directly.

username ngl i would have been throwing hands with daniel aswell

username nicki type of line

username who's matteo's mom anyways 😭😭

username i know we're all mad at him but look at him 😩

username yn this isn't you‼️

username look away we can do this!!

1K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Note

What do you think about a wolff reader being engaged to Charles. And a "Who did this to you" trope, so.etjing bad happened to the reader, or she was mugged or harrased a hurt. We also get protective Charles, Toto and Lewis

All That Matters || CL 16

Warnings: 18+ only, violence, blood, reader injuries, medical procedures WC: 5.7k

F1 Masterlist

The line to the ladies room was longer than you expected when you told your step-mother that you would catch up. Susie had given you a quick wave, not wanting to miss out on the qualifying races, and departed without you. While you waited, you had pulled out your phone and busied yourself with a few replies of well-wishes from friends before going on Instagram and liking all the photos of Charles that you had missed earlier.

One particular photo brought a smile to your face as you knew exactly who he was looking at off camera. You were wearing Mercedes merch for quali and planning to wear Ferrari for race day, so his team had avoided taking photos of the two of you until tomorrow. That didn’t mean your own camera roll wasn’t bursting with pictures of the contrasting black and red team colours. You were so consumed in the pictures of your fiancé that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

A shoulder bumped into you and your phone clattered to the ground before a heel quickly stomped on it, shattering the screen. What you had thought was an accident suddenly turned into an attack and the other women waiting in line screamed at the man and pushed each other away to reach the door.

You couldn’t comprehend what was happening as you were thrown to the ground, pain lacerating your stomach from the kick you received as you went down. You tried to crawl away but a boot planted down on your back pinning you in place as you screamed for help despite the pain it caused.

You reached out, your fingers clawing the dirty floor as you tried to grab your phone before the man stood on your wrist. His joyous laugh sent a wave of nausea through you and he bent down to grab your hand that you fisted tightly.

“No, no, please don’t,” you begged as he pried your fingers open. “I’ll give you anything, I have money, please.”

You screamed as your engagement ring was torn from your finger and you raked his arms with your nails trying to get it back before he closed his fist and sent stars exploding across your vision. Blood smeared across the linoleum floor as you tried to drag yourself after him, the pain of the door closing on your fingers no longer registering in your senseless state. No amount of money could replace what the ring meant to you and you couldn’t just let it go. You were a Wolff, and Wolff’s never give up - your father had instilled the value into you since you were a child.

Pulling yourself up the door, you gasped at the pain in your ribs and clutched the aching bones as you chased after the stranger running through the paddock. The determination was there in your heart and your mind, but it was your body that was failing you as your vision faded and the distance grew. The man was going to get away with taking your prized possession and there was nothing you could do as you crumpled to the concrete and let the darkness take you.

Toto gave his wife a distracted wave as he listened to the engineers discussing the weather with his drivers and he leaned back looking for you behind her.

“She’s on her way,” Susie said, knowing her husband well as she reached him and massaged his tense shoulders.

The qualifying round soon ended and Toto laid his headset down with a smile at the decent result. “Where is she?” he asked when he looked around the garage and noticed you still hadn’t arrived.

“She probably stopped in to see Charles, he could do with some cheering up.”

Toto shook his head feeling sorry for the man who would soon be his son-in-law before standing up and stretching his legs while Lewis and George finished the warm down lap and returned to the garage. “Maybe he’ll finally be ready to leave them if they keep ignoring his wise opinion.”

“Hello Toto, Susie,” Charles greeted politely as he walked through the garage, his bright red racing suit standing out among the black and white uniforms. He stopped to shake Toto’s hand and kiss Susie’s cheeks before looking around. “Have you seen Y/N? She’s not answering her phone.”

“I thought she was with you,” your father frowned, pulling his phone out to call you. “Voicemail. Hi sweetheart, give me a call when you get this.”

“Toto, it’s the stewards,” his engineer interrupted with a frown as he held Toto’s headset up for him.

“What do they want?” he growled as he took them and pulled them over his ears.

“I don’t know, they only mentioned your daughter.”

Charles grabbed the spare headset that Susie usually wore and caught the end of the news. His stomach dropped and his heart beat so loud he could only hear pieces of information. Assault. Unconscious. Hospital. Hurry. He couldn’t stop hearing the words as he tore the headset off and saw the horror and fear reflected in Toto’s eyes. While Toto’s fear stemmed from the love of a father, Charles was that of a soulmate, the one person above all else in the world who he entrusted his heart to.

“Go,” Toto ordered, knowing Charles was the faster man with youth on his side. “Run!”

Charles broke into a sprint, weaving through the crowds as they left. Stunned fans watched the man who usually stopped to sign autographs and take photos push his way to the exit with tears in his eyes.

He didn’t stop, not when his breath was raspy or his legs turned weak. He pushed on, fear driving him to run as fast as he could through the city he called home.

Every slap of his shoes on the pavement jolted through his body and he didn’t even have to think about the route to the hospital as his feet carried him along the familiar streets. He was in a world of his own, trapped in his mind thinking through his afternoon.

He had sat in his car while it was wheeled into the garage, taking a few minutes to calm himself down after the shit show he had endured. He had bit his tongue and listened to the excuses his engineer waffled on with, preparing his own argument in silence in the meeting room. He wondered if those precious moments of waiting had cost him everything. If only he had got out of the car, if only he had been more assertive, he could’ve found you first.

“Monsieur Leclerc!” a nurse called out the moment he stepped foot in the hospital. For once he was glad almost everyone in the city knew who he was as he was quickly ushered into the emergency room where he heard your soft whimper.

Harsh lights welcome you back to the land of consciousness and you tried to shade your eyes but the movement caused a bolt of pain to streak up your arm. Your head spun with stars dotting your periphery as you rolled your head to the side weakly to see your wrist hanging limply, the angle making your stomach turn as a whimper passed your lips.

“Mon amour.”

The voice of an angel, that’s what you heard before the privacy curtain was brushed aside and Charles froze as he saw the state of you. You had no idea how bad you looked, everywhere ached, you could taste blood in your mouth and the same red liquid seeped through the gauze that wrapped your hand that was naked of the engagement ring that had split your skin as it was stolen.

The memory brought tears to your eyes and your lips trembled with a sob that spurred him into action, crossing the room and gingerly taking your right hand. He pressed his lips to your knuckles and the tears he had been holding back broke away, streaking their way down his cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” Anguish tortured his voice, emotion choking his throat as he dropped his head and clutched your hand to his lips like a prayer. “They won’t get away with this, I swear.”

You nodded but the pounding in your head was only exacerbated and you fell back to the pillow with a groan as the nurse finally returned with a team of doctors. You understood why everything hurt as they clipped x-rays to the lightboard and even from the bed you could see bones snapped like twigs. Charles' hand clamped over his mouth with a choked sound and he looked at your stomach as if he could see the broken ribs hidden beneath the bruised skin.

You were grateful the nurse was there, promising to make you feel better with pain relief, but she took your hand from Charles’ and you missed the warmth of his touch as she prepared the site for an IV. A cool rush ran up your arm as she flushed the line before the dose of morphine left you feeling weightless and you could finally relax as the pain retreated.

“He stole my ring,” you slurred like you did after too many drinks. “I tried to stop him but he was too strong. I really did, Charles, you have to believe me.”

“I know you did, mon amour, and I’ll get you another one,” he promised as he gently wiped your tears away. “All that matters is you. You are my everything and I love you with or without that ring.”

You smiled as he cupped your face tenderly and gave you the softest of kisses before you whispered against his lips, “I love you too.”

The doctors circled your bed as Charles took a seat beside your head, his fingers softly brushing your cheek as they spoke, but their jargon went in one ear and out the other as you stared at your fiancé. The fluorescent light caught the rarely seen dark red undertones in his hair and the shadows made his jaw even more defined. He really was your angel and when he looked back at you, you got lost in his beautiful eyes.

“Please, do whatever you need to,” he said, but you couldn’t remember what it was about.

You felt like you did when you went scuba diving with Charles in St Tropez, like you were underwater and your body was growing heavier with each passing second as the pressure squeezed your head. The more you tried to focus, the worse you felt and you barely heard Charles call out to the doctors as he saw your eyes starting to close and your jaw falling slack as you slipped out of consciousness again.

–

Charles hadn’t moved from where he had been told to wait. His elbows had left dents in his knees where he sat forward, ready to spring to his feet at the first sign of news coming from the surgical rooms. The hot sweat from running across the city had long turned cold but he didn’t feel the damp chill from his fireproofs he still wore, all he could feel was the suffocating hopelessness of waiting.

“Where is my daughter?”

Charles jumped at your father’s voice breaking the oppressive silence and he jogged to the administration area at the end of the hall just as the receptionist pointed him to the waiting room. There was nothing Charles could say to ease the suffering in Toto’s eyes as they walked towards each other so the older man just wrapped his arms around him and held him for a moment.

“Thank you,” Toto said as he pulled back and squeezed Charles' shoulders. “We got here as fast as we could but with the roads closed…any update?”

Charles shook his head. “Not since she went in.”

Charles had called Toto in a panic after you had passed out and the doctors noticed the trickle of blood running down the diamond earrings he had given you for your anniversary. The nurse had escorted him from the room and he had been forced to watch as you were wheeled away from him. He had feared he would never see your smile or hear you tell him you loved him ever again.

He still feared that.

“They took her for a CT scan before surgery but that’s all they said.” Charles brushed a hand through his hair as more voices filled the hall and he saw Susie arriving with Jack, Lewis, Enzo and Arthur behind her. “Please tell me they found the bastard who did this.”

Toto’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “Not yet, but there’s a million CCTV cameras - it’s only a matter of time. We’ll get him, son.”

Jack had run along the corridor after seeing his dad and Toto scooped the boy up and closed his eyes as he held him close. Leaving the father and son, Charles met his brothers and accepted the hugs they offered, following Toto’s lead and holding them tighter after being reminded how precious and uncertain each moment was.

“I brought you some clothes,” Enzo said as opened the bag slung over his back. “Thought you might want to look half decent for her when she wakes up.”

Charles nodded his gratitude and took the bag to the bathroom, locking the door behind him before taking a moment to centre himself like he did at the end of a bad race; inhale, hold, exhale.

It was as if his body recognised that he wasn’t alone, that his brothers were there when he needed them most and he didn’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. He didn’t even realise tears were freely falling down his cheeks until he saw his reflection in the mirror, eyes red and hair a mess. He was falling apart and he needed you to put him back together.

One minute. Sixty seconds. That was all he allowed himself to cry before he turned the tap to cold and washed away the sweat and tears. Dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt with a clean face, he returned to the waiting room and found Joris had also arrived.

“I don’t understand how this happened, man,” Lewis sighed, his tattooed hand cupping his chin as he stared at a poster on the wall while deep in thought. “It was inside the paddock. She should have been safe. Where was the security? Was it random or did someone target her?”

No one had the answers but they hoped time would tell.

The hours ticked away and Jack eventually fell asleep on Toto’s lap. Other groups of families came and went, Charles’ hopes being dashed each time the doors opened only to find the news wasn’t for them.

“Maman’s on her way,” Arthur whispered, though there wasn’t a sign to keep quiet, it only seemed appropriate. “Is there anything you need?” Charles looked at his brother, giving him a glimpse into his broken soul that needed good news. “Besides that.”

“Maybe coffee and food?”

Arthur nodded and went to reply but the doors suddenly opened and there was no other group in the waiting room.

Jack startled awake as Toto rose to his feet, passing the boy over to Susie before clapping Charles back and leading him forward to meet the doctor half way.

“Family of Miss Wolff?”

Toto nodded and cleared his throat after hours of tortured silence. “How is she?”

“She’s not out of the woods but she’s strong. The next 24 hours will be critical in her recovery,” the doctor said as everyone gathered around. “We repaired her broken wrist with pins and screws but a broken rib punctured her lung causing it to collapse so she has a chest drain that will remain in place for the next few days. It would appear the same blunt force trauma that broke her ribs also ruptured her spleen so we removed it to stop any further internal bleeding.”

Enzo curled his arm around Charles to stabilise him as he swayed on his feet with the news. But still the doctor wasn’t finished and his already sombre mood turned morose.

“What we are most concerned about is the bleed in her brain and the swelling. We released the pressure but will monitor her closely in the ICU. Miss Wolff is on her way to the ward now so you can see her shortly.”

“Thank you,” Charles managed to choke out but it was a miracle the nausea he felt didn’t spill all over the doctors shoes. “You have our gratitude.”

He pursed his lips together and nodded with a sad smile. “I‘ll come by in a few hours to check up on her, just head up to the ICU when you’re ready.”

Visiting hours were wrapping up as the group took the elevator to the next floor in silence, they were all consumed by their own thoughts. Their hearts fluttered with hope while prudence choked it back and no one dared to say a word as they entered the quiet ward. Even Jack, the chatterbox, didn’t make a peep as they entered your room.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Toto broke the silence as he fell into the seat beside you and his hand trembled when he couldn’t immediately find a way to hold you.

Charles could clearly remember the shock of seeing you but this was somehow both better and worse. Though you had been cleaned up and were no longer in blood stained clothes that had been cut away from your body, now thick bandages covered your head and you were littered with wires and tubes connected to beeping machines.

“Papa’s here,” Toto murmured as he settled his hand on your elbow to miss the cast below and the blood pressure cuff above.

Charles swallowed down the lump in his throat and took Jack’s hand, leading him quietly out of the room as Susie placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder that shook with silent sobs. He could feel the looks of pity he received as he leaned against the corridor wall and slipped down to the floor with an exhausted sigh.

“She’s gonna pull through, mate,” Lewis said as he took a seat beside him. “She’s a Wolff and they are fighters.”

“For now,” Charles corrected. “She’s only a Wolff for now.”

Lewis huffed a short laugh. “Leclerc’s are pretty good fighters too, I guess. She won’t lose that when she loses the name.”

The room was silent except for the reassuring beeps of the monitors showing your steady heartbeat.

Everyone had reluctantly left throughout the evening until only Charles and Toto remained. Neither man was willing to close their eyes for a moment, no matter how exhausted they were. The coffee Pascale had brought initially helped but now it was a matter of surviving on the packets of instant coffee and long-life milk from the refreshment station down the hall.

Toto cleared his hoarse throat and broke the silence as he stared at your face that still held the same resemblance to that baby faced girl he had raised and was thinking of. “When she was five, there was this boy at school who tried to take her doll. He was a few years older, and at least a foot taller, but she was so determined to stop him that the toy broke in half. She was so mad, she threw it at his head and the Headmaster called me because she refused to apologise to the boy.”

“What happened?” Charles asked curiously as he heard the story for the first time.

“I took her out for a hot chocolate, bought her a new doll and told her how proud I was. We don’t let people bully us, and we don’t give up on what matters.” Toto’s eyes were full of guilt as he looked at the man he already considered to be a part of his family. “What if this is my fault?”

Your father hung his head in shame as he remembered the information the police had managed to gather from the witnesses. They had all said the same thing; you had fought back and refused to give him your engagement ring.

“He was younger than me, and shorter,” you rasped as you blinked your dry eyes and let them adjust to the dimly lit room.

“Y/N,” Charles breathed a sigh of relief that ended in a sob and you squeezed his hand that held yours before it slipped away to hit the call button.

“He always gets the story wrong.” You smiled at Charles as he placed his hand back in yours before seeing your father’s red eyes and well up with tears. “It’s not your fault, papa.”

Toto nodded but you could see it was only for your benefit. “I’m just glad you’re awake, meine liebe Tochter."

“It must be bad,” you huffed a laugh but it froze as your ribs burned at the sudden expansion. “You haven’t called me that since I was a child.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you get, you’ll always be my little girl. How are you feeling?”

“Got a killer headache,” you admitted as you tried to reach for it but Charles tightened his hold and shook his head.

“Careful, mon amour, you’ve been through so much. They had to…” he choked on his words and you wondered what had happened before you woke but the doors opened and the doctors arrived.

You had been moved out of ICU after the doctors were happy with the results of the CT scan and the chest drain was removed, but it would be a few more days before you were able to return home. In the meantime, they had found you a quiet room that overlooked the city and you could see all the way to the Nouvelle Chicane where labourers were working hard to dismantle the track and grandstands so Monte-Carlo could return to normality.

Normality. No one knew what that would mean for you.

Though you could remember your anniversary and Charles' phone number by heart, you would suddenly find yourself struggling to recall the name for what colour the sky was. It was frustrating to know exactly what you meant but you just couldn’t seem to articulate it.

When it wasn’t your brain causing you grief, it was any movement from the neck down. The pain relief could only do so much without leaving you in a drug haze and you would rather be in pain and lucid when Charles returned.

“Good news, I get to break you out of here for an hour,” he said as he arrived in a fresh pair of clothes, pushing a wheelchair to the side of your bed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes drifted back to the window you had spent three days staring out of. “It’s almost gone.”

“What?” He gingerly took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried to see what you saw. “The track?”

“You could’ve won, Charles. You should’ve won.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But if I had to choose between you and a race, I will always pick you.” He leaned back and draped his arm over the back of your pillow, careful not to touch the stitches on your head. “I could be content never racing again as long as I have you by my side. You are all that matters to me. That’s why I can’t wait to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Even if I can’t even remember how to sign my name?”

“Then we’ll make a new one, it is going to be changing soon anyway. Y/N Leclerc,” he mused as he pulled a marker pen out of his pocket that he always carried around. “We can start practising after you’ve had some fresh air.”

Your teeth clenched as you swallowed the pained groan down but it quickly passed once you were settled into the wheelchair. “I’m sorry,” he apologised as he saw your brows pinched and he eased his arms out after carrying you to the chair.

“I’m okay, babe,” you reassured him as he gently pushed you down the hall to the elevator. “It doesn’t hurt as much today.”

It was a lie but you weren’t going to tell him that you had been declining the pain relief offered every few hours.

“Where are we going? Do you have a getaway car ready?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled as the elevator doors closed and he bent down to give you a quick kiss. “I thought you might be sick of hospital food.”

If Charles noticed your reservations he didn’t mention it, filling the silence along the corridors with updates and gossip for you instead. It was amazing that he found the time to catch up on news when he spent almost every minute by your side, only leaving to get fresh clothes and even then he tried to wait until you had another visitor so you were never alone.

He had tried to get you to talk about the nightmares that haunted your sleep but you weren’t ready to face that demon yet. The sleepless nights didn’t just affect you and you could see the dark circles around Charles’ eyes from staying up with you, holding your hand and wiping away the tears that regularly found their way down your cheeks.

“I love you.”

He paused the story he had been recalling and put the brake on the wheelchair as he pointed it to a bench at the front of the busy hospital. Sitting down in front of you, he took your hand. “I love you too.”

“I want you to go home.”

“Just a few more days and we’ll go home,” he said with a sigh, looking down the road as if he could see your apartment on the waterfront. “I know it’s hard, but please be patient a little longer, mon amour.”

You squeezed his hand and your eyes closed as flashes of light danced across your vision, the migraines a recurrence thanks to the concussion. “No, I want you to go home. Go rest and sleep in a proper bed, see your friends, your team. I don’t want you missing out on anymore because of me.”

“You stubborn woman, beautiful, stubborn woman.” Charles leaned closer and tucked some of your hair behind your ear, your hair that was missing a patch at the back where it had been shaved for surgery. “What is it going to take for you to get it? I’m not missing out on anything. I’m right where I am meant to be, with you.”

You opened your eyes to see the sincerity on his face and your argument faded away with his kiss.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn,” you murmured against his lips. “I guess you could say I have a thick skull.”

“Ma chérie,” he groaned and pulled back to laugh softly. “That’s not funny.”

“I beg to diff-” your words froze as the doors up ahead opened and panic contracted your chest.

“Y/N?” Charles asked, his hand cupping your cheek as your lips parted with rapid breaths before he followed your fixed gaze. “What is it?”

Charles saw you staring at a newcomer in reception. He was asking to see a doctor as he held his arm that was streaked with angry red and weeping cuts that were clearly infected and in need of antibiotics.

Charles’ head snapped back to you and saw the fear written on your face along with the cold sweat that broke on your forehead. You were terrified of the stranger, terrified he would recognise you like you had recognised him.

The man glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at your hands. It was as if you could still feel the skin that you had raked your nails down and feel the blood that had coated them.

“Charles,” you stammered as your hands began to tremble. “It’s him. He did this to me.”

Charles was on his feet in an instant and crossing the room, his shoulders back so he stood at his full height when he faced the person who assaulted you. Your sweet, gentle fiancé was gone and the man who stood in his place was one you didn’t recognise. There was no warmth in those green eyes, no smile on those lips. You had seen him furious after races ended badly but nothing came close to the rage that simmered close to the surface.

“You,” Charles growled as he stepped toe to toe with the man who blanched back in realisation. “Don’t even think about it.”

Your fingers dug into the vinyl padding along the armrest as you watched the man turn and try to flee, but Charles was faster. You were too stunned to do or say anything when the receptionist screamed for security and Charles tackled the man around the waist, taking him to the floor with a heavy thud.

Sanity returned as quick as it left when Charles’ fist connected with the man’s jaw and security burst into the building. “Shit, Charles!” you screamed as thick arms curled under him and dragged him away.

“I promise you,” Charles growled angrily, his eyes wild as they narrowed on the man cradling his jaw. “You’re gonna pay for what you did.”

He shook the arms off him and brushed a hand through his hair before pointing to the man. “Will someone call the fucking police? This bastard assaulted my wife!”

You should have been focused on what was unfolding but your heart fluttered at the words that rolled so naturally off his tongue and a small smile tipped your lips up.

Your attack had been widely publicised by the major news outlets, and there were plenty of grainy CCTV images of his face, so when Charles pointed his finger at the man responsible the security guards quickly turned their attention to him.

“Charles,” you called softly, his hair bouncing as he rushed back to your side. “Are you alright?”

You took his hand, gently unfurling his trembling fist as you saw the reddening skin across his knuckles. He slipped his hand out of your grasp and shook it out with a wince.

“Hurt more than I thought it would,” he admitted as he stared at the hand that had struck violence before dropping to the bench seat and hanging his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to scare you, mon amour.”

“You didn’t scare me, Charles. You could never scare me,” you assured him as you lifted his head so you could see the eyes you had fallen in love with. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he admitted. “Something just flipped and I was so angry I couldn’t control it.”

You saw his eyes start to drift away but you brought him back with a soft kiss. “You called me your wife.”

“I did, didn’t I?” His eyes widened before crinkling with a smile. “You’re already my everything, mi alma, ma cœur, mia amata. Marry me.”

“That’s the plan.”

“No, now, as soon as we can. Marry me, please.”

The thought of waiting six months suddenly felt like a lifetime and you were already nodding your head, the doors crashing open as police swarmed the reception. “Okay, yes, of course,” you said with a beaming smile as cuffs were slapped on the strangers wrists.

“Yeah?” Charles seemed shocked you actually agreed but when your smile widened and you nodded he blessed you with a smile you hadn’t seen since you saw him before the qualifiers, the one that defined his dimples. “I’ll call your father now. I, ah, should probably update him about that too.”

You looked over to see the man receiving some treatment and heard the police officer remind the doctor to keep it to ‘just the basics’ so he could be transported to the station.

You nodded numbly, in a state of shock, as he pulled his phone out. The last ten minutes had been a roller coaster of emotions and you ran a hand down your face to find your cheeks wet once more. This time they were tears of joy and relief.

“I’m getting married,” you whispered to yourself before a surprise giggle bubbled in your chest. Despite the terror and pain you had survived, your dreams were about to come true and if anyone could manage to organise last minute nuptials in Monte-Carlo it was Charles. The man had connections everywhere.

“Your father is on his way,” Charles said as he returned, tapping his phone against his thigh in his nervous habit. “I hope that bastard is taken away before he gets here or it might be Toto that ends up behind bars.”

“He’s all bark, no bite. I think he’s safe.”

“Don’t underestimate what a father would do for his child,” Charles said softly. “If we had children I know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

You swallowed at the sincerity in his voice and placed your hand on his. “You’ll make a great father, Charles.”

He leaned forward and captured your lips in a searing kiss before resting his forehead on yours. “But first I have to be a great husband, and to do that I have some favours to call in.”

“Who?”

Charles just smiled but you saw the name on the screen before he hit the call button. Prince Albert of Monaco.

“You’re hoping to use your favour with the Prince on this!”

“I can’t think of a better use,” he said with a wink as the line trilled. “All that matters is by the end of the day you are mine and I am yours in every sense. Ah, hi, hello, it’s Charles Leclerc, I was hoping to speak with the Prince…”

You watched Charles pace as he spoke, his free hand fidgeting with his rings and his hair until it dropped to his side and his jaw fell slack. You feared the Prince wasn’t going to be able to help with fast tracking the legal side of the marriage but then Charles fist punched the air and his laugh reached you. “Thank you, your highness, thank you.”

He ended the call and smiled brighter than the times he had stood on the centre podium. “We’re getting married!”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

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khristie16 · 5 months

Text

The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chaper 1 It is your first day settling in Formula 1 world. You find out there is something off with Charles, but you ignore it. At least you convince yourself to.

disclaimer: yn with "I" pov format x slowburn

Lights were casting a shadow enveloping me as I headed toward Charles's room. My mind went on full speed and palms getting wet, feet suffering from the fancy wearing for this job. High heels clapping was the only thing disturbing this silence. This whole job experience was pestering but there was no choice but moving out from my family.

Butterflies in stomach were at its peak as I started to acknowledge this is our first meeting. Did I feel like a stalker? Standing in front of his door in a hotel he was accommodated? Definitely. But it is better to meet up here then outside with sound screeching and flashing cameras.

Giving myself one big inhale to reach for the door knob, the wooden squeak made me fall few steps behind and muscles stopped moving as Charles was leaving the apartment. Wearing Ray Ban sunglasses does a lot to one's sight evidentially. His presence was getting far away from mine as he was heading towards the elevator.

"Wait!"

The growing distance between us has stopped. With a serious tone and hands pointing at me, "I'll call the security''

My throat got tight and words couldn't pass through. His words were flowing in and out of me as waves of the ocean in the night, making me restless. Time flew fast and I was met once again with his back showing a gray hoodie.

"I'm your new assistant!"

Hope filled my veins. Mind was playing with the possibility of being thrown out displayed as a fan girl. NOT. His turn was so abrupt I was shocked he didn't crack his neck. Sweet, yet deep voice crashed my eardrums making me feel searing.

"YN?"

I nodded and I finally let my lungs chill. Damn, this started easy.

Sides of his lips crooked making me feel not welcomed but I could finally take a breath. The distance got shorter while I remained situated on one position.

"Sorry for that. I'm Charles."

Chuckle left my mouth as I found the introduction nonessential. Hands connected with him leaving warm tickles on my skin and his cologne messing my senses. God, he smelled good.

“I’m sorry, I must have looked like a stalker,” his nod made me feel even worse.

All I could inhale was airy scent torturing me, enlarging the lift going down with no noise to muddle the silence. A sway of sadness ran through my body given the fact I have to do this job. Slow mornings moving my body to the sound of inner peace and calmness enveloping my heart, the safeness growing inside of me as if it would tear me apart if given the chance to expand. Creative days with no rush and restrictions in nature. Looking to the sunlight and warming my skin touching its sleeves. I never in my heart wanted to be this 'empowered independent' woman the society has made.

I lost all the hope when opening the door of SUV myself. Has the chivalry really gone dead? Thoughts were torn off from the noise, exciting screams from Ferrari fans hovering over the car.

"Have you previously done such a job?" His gaze locked onto mine; I tilted my head in an attempt to discern the eye color, but no clear answer emerged. I chose to let the moment slide.

"No experience with the celebrity lifestyle." He nodded reassuringly, expressing confidence that I would adapt well.

The quietude felt like a snare. Knowing he is not the chatty one, I clenched my teeth. Fingers touched the screen on iPad scrolling through files kept for assisting Charles's personal life.

''I've made some changes and saved a decent amount of money''

I skimmed through the palette on the page styling and got myself wondering which of these colors match his.

''Oh, wow,'' resonated through the air. ''I trust your intellect. You are paid for it after all''

The spoken words seared into my ears, yet I acknowledged him for stating the obvious. Almost as if summoned, my mind spilled forth the reasons why I had accepted this job. The whole concept of my future given by my family's idea was the reason. Working for Charles was better than staying home.

My fingers danced across the screen, orchestrating household tasks in his absence, as a cool breeze caressed my skin. I found solace in the fact that within the SUV, I could relish the refreshing chill, outside it was a walk through hell. Speaking of, it felt as though someone had touched me with a hot frying pan against my bare skin. I turned my gaze to the left, only to find his eyes expressing fondness toward my exposed thigh. The fleeting moment of admiration came to an abrupt end as our eyes locked, and I could swear I detected a spark of intensity in his gaze. Its reason unknown to me. The back of my thigh touched the seat underneath as feet touched the floor again.

''We're almost there'' having Ray Ban again.

Leaving the car as the last one, setting feet in the hell delivered a numb pain. Mix of frustration and calling for help left my lips making Charles shot a glance in my direction as I sat there.

"What's the matter?" The genuine tone in his voice caused my shoulders to slump.

''These heels are killing me,'' skimming the pair of Jimmy Choo heels made my lips curl.

I liked to dress. Wear pretty things. But per usual, pretty things cost, coming from a humble background, the prospect of high heels and I seemed like an incompatible pair, especially in the beginning.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared ahead.

"I value my employees; choose something more comfortable next time," he continued through clenched teeth.

''I am supposed to look presentable,'' I retorted.

''You can look presentable while being comfortable,'' with his last words, he turned away, revealing his back—a connection I, regrettably, began to foster too much.

Engaging in Formula 1 is demanding on both the psyche and the body of the driver. This is why considerable effort is dedicated to maintaining optimal physical fitness, the amount of work they put into it is out of this world and one wouldn’t even tell. This misunderstanding often stems from the assumption that individuals who engage in rigorous physical training automatically develop bulky muscles. However, in Formula 1, many drivers maintain a lean physique with a minimal percentage of body fat.

This is one of the reasons I accepted this job—a relatively minor one, but my admiration for these drivers played a part in my decision. even though they don't save lives of others while risking their lives like firefighters do, they still risk a lot.

Sound of chaos lingered around me watching Charles race on the Singapore circuit, my vision blurred as I found myself yearning for something more profound to heighten the level of respect for this man, changing the weight from one foot to another.

Mere fame is insufficient for me to offer respect. A person, regardless of their status, should demonstrate general respect towards women and interact with them using good manners. I ran away from my family because of this and I block any misconceptions this society made. As of now, I have a feeling that something might be off with Charles.

“You’re the new assistant?” I titled my chin up to see a man looking at me. His hair seemed to absorb no light at all. Forming theories about the man—his inclination toward comfortable attire and a penchant for photography—I nodded in acknowledgment and shifted my focus back to the swift cars, resembling nothing more than fleeting smudges.

“I’m Joris, Charles's close friend”

His hand reached out to me and I accepted his offer.

“I believe it’s quite a job huh?”

This man believed that either way I took this job being incompetent or he tried to start a conversation. Either way I didn’t like how he started.

“Job is ok. People are the tricky one”

His silence provided a momentary relief, causing my tense body to ease. Soon after, someone came to my vision.

A blonde-haired woman enveloped Joris in a warm hug, and the sound of French language resonated in the air. Despite my understanding of French, I chose to keep to myself.

“He’s really put it on a whole new level”

Words stopped at my level, their bodies facing mine.

“Yes, this is YN”

Seeing her face, I smiled. I had a break from work, and I preferred not to spend it with people I don't know.

“I’m not surprised though. I’m Carla”

We shook hands but my mind was elsewhere. Her choice of words got my attention. ''What do you mean by that?''

I was told curious creatures get killed fast. I am okay with that. Joris expression fell and my curiosity grew. On the other hand, Carla showed us white teeth. She was giving me the vibe she could sleep like a baby even after spilling everyone's secrets.

“He is focusing on career now, doing a decent work like tidying his room is a distraction for him I suppose”

Laughter filled the space and the way she proceeded those words made me question everything. It was clear that she was his friend, and her disapproval of his decision to hire a personal assistant inclined me to be drawn to her side and trust her perspective. Bad feeling about Charles was not a coincidence.

Legs swept me elsewhere still on the territory of the Ferrari background but as I got consumed by thinking about everything and nothing, I lost the track where I was heading. The lighting changed, and the once resounding sounds of engines and formulas on the track dissipated. A metal door ahead beckoned me, and without overthinking, I reached for the knob, immediately sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Before me stood an elegant kitchen counter and a man donned in a Ferrari shirt. As our eyes met, I instinctively moved to offer an apology, feeling as though my legs were already propelling me towards the exit. However, he was quicker in his response. His warm smile welcomed me and I looked at his wrinkles around the eyes. He could be in his forties and Italian.

''Ciao''

Shyness enveloped me as it displayed on my scrunched eyebrows and crooked lips. I greeted him back.

''I am Andrea''

As the doors finally closed, my hands released their grip on the cold metal beneath my fingertips. ''I'm YN. Sorry If I disturbed you''

His laugher filled the space as If I told him the most hilarious joke ever and he closed the distance while still keeping his spirit up. His arms enveloped me in a warm hug, creating a sensation akin to being in a cozy room illuminated by flickering candles. Indeed, this guy exuded the comforting ambiance of a room bathed in candlelight.

I put the dots together. He is the personal trainer of Charles. He sent me reports about expanses on stuff for Charles's training. For the first time this day, laugh left my lips as this situation seemed so embarrassing to me, but to keep it fair, I haven't encountered any familiar faces since my interview and I got my feet on the Singapore land just today. But I felt immense gratefulness for Andrea. Mind note: I have to buy him candles sometimes. My stomach seemed to have a mind of its own as it growled, and we both erupted in laughter.

''Oh my, let me make you something''

My eyes felt like they were on the verge of falling out, and I fully embraced the mode of sabotaging the mission he had so earnestly accepted. He shook me with more laughing telling me to relax. I stopped harassing him and hopped on the barstool.

''Thank you, but you really don't have to do that'' He kept quiet with a warm smile on his face as his hands worked the magic. I didn't know what he was making, he could poison me for all I care. I did not. My soul hasn't felt this warm since I have flown through the air gate to Singapore. And it is a lot to say when it is a living hell outside there.

''I believe you’re not used to long flights''

I hummed in response and engaged him about my flight. I wanted to keep it short, but my monologue ended with details and meeting with Charles. He furrowed his eyebrows listening to me while fiddling something on the frying pan. Yep, he could easily poison me if he wanted to.

''That surprises me, Charles is always like a sunshine''

First Carla, now Andrea. As if written on a secret paper known only to few, they were describing Charles differently than I have experienced him to be making my head spin. But as long as I keep receiving money so I can leave this job and start the life I want, then I am fine not being included to this 'crew'.

''I noticed how Charles has changed his approach towards career now,'' lingered in not so approving way and I couldn't hold back anymore.

''Change of approach?''

He nodded and I cursed myself for keeping the question short. Just when I accepted the end of discussion, he put the food on a clean plate and continued.

''He's really hard on himself. He has two brothers and lost a father.''

Words hit me like a rock bottom and my breath got stuck for a second. The sound of plate landing on the counter and the smell of the food freed me from my momentary mental drift. Clearing my throat facing the warm smile.

''I knew he has brothers, but didn't know he is the oldest one''

Andrea shook his head immediately placing the utensils next to the plate.

''He is not. He is the middle child, but Charles is just Charles.''

I understood his words and took my focus on the food in front of me. My stomach responded in gratefulness as the egg omelette was filling its smell to my nostrils. Taking a bite resolved in an appreciative moan as Andrea laughed at my reaction, but his smile slowly faded away as I sensed another presence behind my back. I turned my torso with full mouth of the omelette to see Charles in his gear.

The first upper half of the gear was open, hanging itself on the sides of hips showing the fireproof underneath, displaying his toned chest. Red really suited him. Charles had this lazy look in his eyes shooting through my skull telling me something encrypted in a highly sensual manner and as I become aware I'm no longer chewing, I took off my eyes from him to the plate again.

The food sliding down had a hard time doing so and I shifted my focus to Andrea to thank him. Charles moved like a ghost behind Andrea and pulling out the water from the cabinet. Italian language filled the room and I prayed for having the food eaten already.

I found out Andrea was telling the truth; he was like a sunshine.His dimples were on full display, and his delightful chuckle echoed, sounding like a melody to my ears. I didn't wanna melt here on the barstool so I ate like a daredevil. When Andrea noticed me finishing, he reached for the plate.

''Don't worry about it, I wash it''

Frozen on the spot, he took the plate with a polite smile and I thanked him for it. I couldn't help myself looking away from Charles. He was eyeing me while taking a sip of his bottle. Sweat on his forehead made his longer hair stick to the skin in a delicious matter and I felt my knees to buckle soon. Shifting from warm to cold to hot in a second wasn't good for my heart. I excused myself and went anywhere but there.

Two days have passed and the only conversation I had with Charles were short sentences about work. He finished forth in yesterday's race resolving his mood to worsen. I overheard how critical he can be towards himself.

I was shocked how mean he was and upset about forth place out of twenty. But we are separate individuals with different dreams, If I had lost a small amount of money resolving in postponing my leaving and pursuing my dream life, I would be mad as the weather in Singapore is.

Charles told me he doesn't need me for the rest of the evening so I had practically a time off preparing for tomorrow's flight.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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female-malice · 1 year

Text

AMELIA STRICKLER: Trans TikTok star Dylan Mulvaney's offensive parody makes a total mockery of female athletes like me

It Is so offensive, it reminds me of a routine by a chauvinist male comedian from the 1970s. Dylan Mulvaney, a TikTok influencer and performer, leaps around wearing Nike leggings and a sports bra. Their exaggerated movements seem to me to parody a woman’s exercise routine.

Mulvaney, a biological male who first openly identified as ‘transgender’ in March last year, has been signed by the world’s biggest sports company to promote women’s clothing. I am a GB shot putter who has won the British title twice and competed in the Commonwealth Games. I am a European finalist and world championship finalist.

I know how many years of training it takes, often at great personal cost, to reach the top levels of sport.

And I know what it is to be a woman.

In the video advert, Mulvaney frankly appears to be laughing in the face of female athletes like me – and any other woman or girl who wants to better themselves physically.

I’ve been a shot putter since I was ten. Life in professional athletics requires grit and determination. It doesn’t involve dancing around, grinning inanely.

It means getting up at the crack of dawn to train, keeping going when every muscle in your body is screaming at you to stop, forgoing time with friends and family and being utterly single-minded. And because so few female athletes attract sponsorship from giants like Nike, we often have to fit training and competing around other paid work.

For many years, I had two jobs to support my shot putting career. Recently I found a private sponsor through my athletics club Thames Valley Harriers, which enables me to keep competing.

But most female athletes don’t have that advantage. Women get 1 per cent of all sports sponsorship money – and yet to see Nike willing to shell out however many thousands it is to Mulvaney – who, remember, has not fully ‘transitioned’ to female – is utterly demoralising.

Nike likes to harp on about how it champions women: last year it announced an ‘Athletes Think Tank’ to help ‘serve today’s women athletes’, while a 2021 campaign praised mums for being ‘the toughest athletes’.

All well and good – but contrast these warm words with Nike’s actions towards the female athletes it actually sponsored. Women such as Olympic runner Alysia Montano were subject to ‘performance-based reductions’ – amounting to a 70 per cent pay cut – when they were unable to race due to being pregnant or having just given birth. In other words, penalised for being a woman.

Following a public outcry, Nike amended its policy to allow women 18 months off around pregnancy, but this latest publicity stunt reveals just how little the company really cares about women in sport.

It would be better to invest some of the money given to attention-seeking influencers such as Mulvaney to develop better sportswear for biological women.

In nearly a decade of competing at the top level, I have yet to find a decent sports bra: I have to wear two at once.

Modelling a bra on someone who has a male torso is an insult to those of us with female bodies.

At the track yesterday, many fellow female athletes were deeply upset by Nike’s apparent contempt for our sport. As one said – and I agree – ‘I’m glad Nike isn’t my sponsor.’

Women are still fighting for true equality in sport – we’ve made progress, but there’s a long way to go. We don’t need a big brand such as Nike to bring it down with crass campaigns. I agree with Sharron Davies – women should boycott Nike. If they refuse to support women in sport, then why should we support them?

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albatmobile · 1 month

Text

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] coming soon: [3] [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hated people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun.

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you didn't really want there to be a fourth.

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents.

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” She nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds.

“Do you?”

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down, “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” You correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know of,” He trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” You repeat his words with an uninterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.”

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” You tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” He says your last name, obeying your correction.

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” You continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway, “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?”

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” Is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream.

Most of your material is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The few production videos you’ve done required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It’s a total hassle. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location.

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you.

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many possible chances for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time.

avid_reader began stream

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’

Private streams are a whole different ballgame.

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with, hell, the dude was pretty funny too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one.

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night.

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for.

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway, “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own.

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally puling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully.

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better.

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something with he way he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist.

“Fuck,” You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good.

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard.

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!”

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” You rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times.

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a ‘how are you.’

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now.”

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," You say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” He draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?”

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” You tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” You hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” You repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” He drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” You mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25 for fuck’s sake.

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” He jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” You say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again, “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms result to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering emerald gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair.

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club, it’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight it feels right.

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way.

Green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” You say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” He takes a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” You apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-"

You start to ramble but he cuts you off gently.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind,” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?”

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” You bite lightly at your lower lip.

“You do like public places, don’t you?” You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” You agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” He offers lowly.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” He says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops, but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying a gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” He groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” You buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud ‘thump’ that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am,” A gruff voice startles the two of you. “Are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused.

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you.

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” He trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason’s lulling you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you, “Are you good with this?”

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself,” The words are out of your mouth before you can realize it.

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand.

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer, his lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” You whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that.” With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite your lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans, “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” He breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” He groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” He teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust.

“A time or two,” You jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb.

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?”

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” The other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” He mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes.

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation, “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits.”

“Fair enough,” He mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants.

Jason sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip.

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #dc x reader #x reader #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Special Interest 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You package up another pair of mitts. It’s that season where sales pick up. It’s cold and the holidays are lurking just around the corner. Your hands are achy from working your needles but you can’t complain for the uptick in demand.

Along with your crochet menagerie, you supplement your etsy shop with stickers, while pondering the prospect of cards, especially given the time of year. As overworked as your hands are, your mind feels more so.

Your computer bings. Another sale? You go around to check your open Etsy page. Nope, a message from a customer. Please don’t be a return.

It’s a message. From the vaunted Farmer’s Delight. You might be avoiding them but that doesn’t need to be a whole thing. You’re working on their order! That’s not neglect.

You open the chat, knowing to leave that little dot just hovering there would drive you crazy.

‘Hey, just checking in. Was hoping to do a pick-up soon. Maybe in the next week?’

Sigh. Great, did they not read your last message? You know you’re a bit hard to take seriously in real life but this is text. There is no height difference or age gap. You’re on even ground. You’re traversing a world of digital equity.

‘Hey. Not sure if you saw my last message but I can’t do a pick up. Please provide your mailing address and I’ll be happy to send this out. Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns.’

There, firm but still customer service-y. You hit send and go back to smooth labels onto bubble packs. Another chime.

‘Like I said, mailing out here is inconsistent. I need the order as soon as possible. Please let me know a time that works for you. I need to hit the hardware store so I’ll be coming to town. We can meet there for exchange.’

Ugh. You want to punch the computer. You should just refund their order and be done with it. Even with your pick-up in sales, it’s a big chunk. You just can’t stomach giving back that much money and they didn’t even ask for their shipping fee back.

You let the message stew. They are offering a public meet-up. That seems like a good omen, at least. Friday night might work, your mom will be done work at four. That’s a decent amount of time. And it’s close to the post office.

You seal another package and leave the room, treading down the hall as you hear your mother clacking away at her keyboard. You approach cautiously. She closes the door when she’s in a meeting. You tap on the doorframe and peek through the open door.

“Mom, sorry, I don’t wanna bother–”

“All good,” she sits back and pushes up her glasses to rub her eyes, “all these emails are doing my head in.”

“Um, well, you remember that order I got. For pick-up. Could you drive me to the hardware store on Friday?”

“Friday?” She echoes.

“I figure we can stop by the post office on the way. And I’ll buy dinner. You know dad loves the gyros down at Eddie’s. It’s on our way…” You give a smile and sway, “please.”

“Sure. Sounds like a good excuse to get out. Besides, I need to grab some washer thing for the sink. I don’t know, your dad was going on about it. I’ll ask,” he flips her glasses down, “oh, that’s so nice! A big sale–” she claps her hands. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

You raise your brows, surprised by her excitement. You remember when you quit your craft store job to buy a Cricut machine and go all in. She was less than jazzed.

“Really?”

“Of course,” she beams, standing and grabbing her empty mug, “you know, I was a bit concerned. No school, no job, but you’re a go-getter. Any man would be happy to marry someone with so many hobbies, and hobbies that pay.”

“Hobbies? Mom, this is a business. I have to pay taxes,” you back out of her way as she comes into the hall.

“I know, sweetie, but…” she glances around, “it’s still young. You don’t know if a business is a business for a few years. I’m not knocking you down, I’m trying to be realistic.”

“Mom, please, do we have to worry about five years from now? I want to see how far this goes without worrying about guys or a husband or– I can’t even order a beer yet.”

“Me and your dad married right out of high school. We never worried about all that dating stuff and it was all so simple. Trust me, once you find someone, the world will be so much clearer.”

“If it’s easier, I can get an uber on Friday,” you cross your arms and follow her towards the stairs.

“Don’t be like that. I’m being supportive. But you make sure you’re saving money. Pray the day comes and you’ll have a nice nest egg for your wedding,” she stops at the top of the stairs, “or tuition. There’s lots of cuties in college.”

“Mom,” you roll your eyes, “let’s just take it a day at a time. Friday I’ll get that order out.”

“Oh, remind me to grab some grout cleaner when we’re there too,” she points at you before she turns to descend the stairs, “the bathroom is looking a bit grimy.”

You mutter, “alright, mom,” and slowly turn away.

Everything with her comes back to that one thing. She just assumes that you’re lonely. Worse, she seems to believe you’re wasting your time on all this.

You shut your door and tramp around to your laptop. You sit on the cushioned stool and type in your reply to Farmer’s Delights; ‘Friday works for me. After four.’

Three dots pop up almost right away. Then disappear. Then appear again.

‘Sounds great. I’ll see you there.’

You send a thumbs up and close out. You have to finish packing then get back to destroying your carpal tunnel. It’s money, your mom’s right about that, but you won’t be saving for a wedding.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #drabble #au #bookstore au #series #special interest #ghosted

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

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"okay, but in my defense, you shouldn't have left me alone." - Eddie 'no impulse control' Munson

I absolutely love this and I think this should be on his gravestone tbh

Government money was great, but it was a little overwhelming to know so much money was sitting in his bank account.

If Wayne hadn't gotten his own to buy a new house, he would have given most of it to him so he could retire, but Wayne wouldn't allow it.

He bought a new guitar, bought another used van after his got taken in for evidence and couldn't be released, even bought himself Metallica tickets.

But that barely scratched the surface of what they gave him.

Steve used some of his to buy Robin a car (somehow in the mix, she'd only been given enough to cover medical bills from her very short visit to the ER) and enrolled in community college.

Steve would never buy something for himself unless it was necessary.

So, Eddie did it for him.

He used a pretty good decent chunk of money and bought him a house.

It was small, only two bedrooms, and on the outskirts of town.

It had a pool, thought a much smaller one than the Harrington house.

It also had a beautiful garden in the front, and plenty of places to put some lawn chairs for guests to hang out.

He blindfolded Steve the day after he closed on it, drove him to the house, and made him stand right in the middle of the road to look at it all.

He removed the blindfold.

Steve stared at the house.

"What's this? Did you buy a house?"

"I did."

"Well, it looks great. Do you need help decorating or moving?"

"The house isn't for me. No wait. It kind of us. I technically bought it for you, but was hoping I could live with you?"

Steve stared at the house again.

"You bought me a house."

"I bought us a house."

"What the hell?"

"In my defense, you shouldn't have left me alone with large amounts of money."

"I wasn't the one who did!"

"The government did. And now we have a house."

"I already have a house, Eds."

"But you hate it. It's too big. This is perfect."

Steve thought about it, Eddie could see him weighing every pro and con he could think of.

"Give me a tour of our house, then."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

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kittiecode · 6 months

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Things I wish I knew when I found the Law Of Assumption..

1. Time is entirely irrelevant

If you stay awake for 48 hours, the sun setting and rising doesn't take away from your continued experience of being awake for 2 days straight.

Sleep creates an illusion of separation between moments in "time", but life is all just one huge experience.

Watch where you are putting yourself at all times. Time isn't real, you are constantly creating.

2. There's no off button

This doesn't only get put to work when you choose to remember to use it. This is how life works. Try to not see it as some kind of life hack, or a human version of an additional Google chrome extension.

This is life, this is how you play it. The sooner you keep yourself in check, the quicker life will change for you.

3. Everything is possible, you're just too familiar with bad states

And that's why things don't seem to change. Revision is great, but too often forgotten. Changing how you feel about previous situations, changes how you get to experience similar situations linked to the previous ones. For anything. SP, friends, money, career.

Change how you feel about things. And yes, that can take a bit more deliberate monitoring of how you see things.

Not everyone comes from stable homes with parents who have decent amounts of money where you've been given iPhone after iPhone after shopping spree after new furniture after vacation after new family car. So yes, that takes changing beliefs and emotional reactions to things for a good amount of people. And yes, that takes as long as you need to in order to start feeling yourself changing how you feel about things.

We are forgetting that we have beliefs that have roots as deep as early childhood. Not everyone has had the same experiences, and so you cannot tell everyone that feelings don't matter.

You tell that to someone who's experienced stress in their home from their mom not being able to pay for electricity and so on that has created pretty strong beliefs surrounding money and stability that has gotten to the point where they think of money and their body goes into panic mode, and they'll struggle to manifest the way you manifest when you've had a pretty stable good foundation to grow up on.

If you have had a rough life and you're still able to easily detach from the bad and accept that everything is possible for you and you can have anything, that's amazing and I mean that. But a lot of people who find out about conscious manifesting are seeking entire life changes, and the old story can come with some baggage

A journey of creation is a personal one. It's for you. Other people can help, that's why I'm on this blog. But remember that what we teach others is what we've experienced movement and success with. I've studied this for years now. I've changed my family's life for the better, from poverty to a significant change to our current standard of living. I've used this enough to know it's the truth, and now I'm here to help others too!

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #The law of assumption #girlblog #girl blogger #coquette

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persesphonestears · 11 months

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Another tattoo

(Gif not mine :>)

A/N: So I have to make this a more than one part series because I wrote like way too much and I’m gonna die if I don’t post this already. Also so sorry it’s only Ghost in this post, but promise the second part will have the others!! I actually had so much fun writing this like omfg, I don’t have any piercings or tats for myself thanks to money problems atm but like actually I don’t know where I was going with that- uh anyway enjoy! I’m very tired. (looking at the amount now seems rlly small so sorry :/) ALSO I FUCKIN HATE THE NAME TOO LEAVE ME ALONE.

CW: He/they pronouns used for reader(? I might have ended up just using they/them), Reader has tattoos and piercings, I DONT THINK I USED Y/N LES GOO, I call ghost Simon when he isn't at work, Probably incorrect tattoo health procedures, Reader may be a little bland when first meeting Ghost(?), small mentions of gods(?)

Word count: 1342

Simon was finally let off for a break, given it’s only because Price knew he wasn’t keeping himself healthy or sleeping, so being the ‘dad’ boss he is, Simon was forced to take time off. While Simon wasn’t even close to being happy about having to not stay at base and having to make himself food and all the other human necessities, he’d been wanting a new tattoo for some time now. While maybe some of the privates would simply tattoo each other with pen ink, he’d rather die on the field than die from an infection from a more than likely shitty tattoo.

Walking through the somewhat dodgy looking part of his hometown, looking for a seemingly decent tattoo shop. While walking his eye was caught by the small little tattoo shop that looked clean and not all that dodgy. A small bell as the door opened rang as Simon stepped through, looking around at the walls he was impressed with the artwork that was displayed. He could hear faint 2000s rock music in the background of the shop, standing awkwardly waiting to see if anyone was actually here.

Turning around to walk out, he heard a small crash and a string of curses that followed.

Simon stopped and turned to see a short tattooed and pierced person walking out from the back of the shop. “Hi, sorry I was uh..” their talking trailed off as he looked down to see a fresh and unfinished tattoo on their leg. Unknown to Simon, the person in front of him was just very very happy that they weren’t able to be seen from the back, preferring not to be caught staring at the huge 6’4 man in their shop.

“Uh anyway, I’m guessing you don’t have an appointment cause I don’t have any till later tonight, but I take walk in’s, both for tats and piercings'' They rambled off as they walked around to the front desk checking through their computer, Simon watched them, surprised by the feeling of fluttering in his stomach. Pushing it away he cleared his throat “Uh yeah walk in, are you able to tat up my other forearm?” he was wearing a t-shirt under his hoodie, happy he wasn’t going to be taking his shirt off. “Mhm sure, I just need to ask a few questions and then get you to sign some consent forms, that cool?” He asked walking back around and sitting on one of the couch chairs at the front, taking a seat after them, Simon sat and agreed to the others' request.

“Cool, alright so first is which arm you want it on obviously and if you have any tattoos on your forearm already?” Simon answered with short and gruff answers “My right arm and no, my left is already tattooed(I think I can’t remember which arm of his is tatted).” “Right cool okay so I’m not gonna bother asking if you're of age because it's pretty obvious because holy shit you are probably the biggest and hottest man I’ve ever seen, but just read through these quick and sign ‘em” Thanking whatever gods there were for people not being able to read minds. Handing the forms to Simon he grabbed them and the pen from your hands, giving a quick read through signing where he had to. Putting them back on the desk, you grabbed them right back and skimmed through them, “Okay Simon, well what do you want?”.

—tiny time skip–

After setting everything up and placing the stencil of the sketch that you drew up (That Simon wouldn’t admit but absolutely adored) onto the gruff military man that was sitting in your chair. “Okay, you ready?” A simple nod was what you received in response. Instead of pushing you continued to go ahead and start his tattoo, not once deciding to ask about some of the many scars that graced his arms. Them seemingly adding onto your attraction for the stranger in your shop as he sat still and silent. Becoming; as you do when tattooing, engrossed in the soft buzzing, the hushed music of your playlist and the ink going into skin at your hand.

“How many do you ‘got?” The gruff voice from above me spoke as I continued to stab his skin. “Tats or piercings?” Responding with another question as I kept my focus on the shading, trying to not let the fact that this absolute 10/10 was asking you about yourself. Sure it was most likely to just make conversation but you could dream. “Both?” The voice behind the black surgical mask didn’t sound overly confident but even when peeking up at the man he was still only looking forward. “I stopped counting how many tats I got a while ago. As for my piercings uh..” cutting myself off to count in my head. “I’d say about 9, not counting my ears.” Feeling a cold gaze turn towards me I stiffen slightly.

“You only have 6 on your face.” (I chose to give reader a vertical labret, septum, both sides of the nose(like so you could use a chain), bridge, eyebrow :D) His voice replies, stifling my laugh “yeah I know I just don’t normally let people see my chest or just randomly show my stomach.” Giggling, I look up to see his ears turning a slight pink. “R-right sorry.” Trying not to laugh at a client, we continued to talk for a bit more before I suggested to put a movie on more to make it less uncomfortable for me with the awkward conversation. After picking a movie, he seemed to relax just a tad more, getting myself comfortable. I continued to finish up the art piece I was adding to someone's skin.

—another time skip because Ghost would get something edgy and big and I can’t keep writing silly awkwardness—

By the time you had finished and made sure to add some disinfectant and soothing cream to the skin before wrapping it up. You pat his shoulder smiling softly “you’re all done big guy”. Rising from the seat, he walked somehow (even though this man is huge) silently towards the front desk. Scanning his card and giving him the papers that explained how to look after his tattoo. “Thank you. You’re uhm. Very handsome- or uh pretty? I don’t know, can I just get your number?” Stumbling over his words brought a smile to your face. “Sure, I’d uh I’d actually really like it if you took my number” you ramble as you grab some scrap paper, quickly writing your personal number you hand it to him.

Seeing his eyes scrunch slightly, let you know he was smiling at you, and god almighty if the fact that this huge, scary, masked, stoic, man giving you a smile, that you couldn’t even see, wouldn’t make you swoon. Giving you a quick nod he walked out, the small bell above your door ringing in your ears as you watched him leave.

Giggling to yourself as you stupidly fist pumped the air and twirled around happily, not registering the sound of the bell being rung, indicating the opening of a door. What you did register was the once again gruff voice, clearing their throat as you turned back to look at the man who just left back in your shop. “Forgot ma’ cap.” Swiftly grabbing his hat back with what you could only assume was the smuggest look ever he turned back around. This time leaving you with a curt “Bye now, doll”

Leaving you red faced, in the middle of your own shop. Snapping out of it you groaned loudly before retreating to the floor, hidden by the desk. Cursing yourself for your stupid victory jig you did before even making sure that he wouldn’t come back for a bit. A buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal dread, pulling out your phone and opening it to see a message from an unknown number. “That lil’ dance was very cute btw”.

A/N: *twerks cutely* ANYWAY

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zepp-l1n · 1 year

Text

A Good Gamble

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x GN!reader

summary: a few jokes lead to the (partial) reveal of romantic feelings. fic type - fluff, friends to (future/not yet stated) lovers warning - guns are mentioned once, but other than that, none word count - 936 a/n: I actually really enjoyed writing this one, and hope you guys like it as much as I do :)

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Jesper had one job. Kaz had simply asked him to watch the door, just as he usually did. And yet here Jesper was, sitting at one of the many tables being used for gambling.

Kaz wasn't surprised when he saw his sharp shooter at the table instead of guarding his post. He had expected it to happen in all honesty - hence why he put (Y/N) on 'Jesper duty'.

They were currently stationed at the bar, with a direct view of their friend. He had been there for around a hour, gambling an amount of kruge only saints could guess. Good kruge that could've been used on groceries, rent at the slat, or a new hat. (Y/N) glanced up from the bar towards Kaz, who was sitting at a table in the far back of the Crow Club. He sent them a small nod - the decided signal that it was time for (Y/N) to step in.

(Y/N) finished the few drinks they were passing out, and made their way out from behind the bar. It didn't take them long to make their way over to Jesper, nor did it take him long to register their presence. "Ah! (Y/N), my dear friend!" he chucked. "Come to watch me win?"

"Quite the opposite, Jes. I've been given orders to cut you off." they grinned at him as they spoke. One of their hands slid across his arm, beginning to pull him away from the table.

"And who ordered that task?" Jesper joked while attempting to release himself from their grasp. Of course Jesper knew the answer to that already - he had felt Kaz's unpleasant gaze on him for the past 20 minuets - but he needed something to say to distract his fellow crow from their task.

"Nobody other than Kazzle Dazzle himself." they smirked. "Now, c'mon before he decides to bring you back to your position himself." Jesper looked up at his friend, watching as the dim light highlighted just the right areas of their face, then let his mouth form into a pout. "No, don't give me that look. You no it won't wok."

"Oh, come on (Y/N)! Just a few more rounds!" he practically begged. By this point a few of the men at the table Jesper was gambling at had stared to get rowdy - groaning and complaining about the two crows. (Y/N) quickly shut them up by flashing the gun holstered on the hip at them.

(Y/N) sighed, re-adjusting their grip on his arm. "How about this, I let you do one more round. But, if you loose, again, you have to get back to you job."

"And what do I get if I win?" he asked.

They shrugged. "I take your shift, and you get to loose more money."

"I don't know. I'm a gambling man, sweetheart. You're gonna have to offer up more." Jesper leaned forward, challenging (Y/N)'s confident stance.

In retaliation they crossed their arms, and narrowed their eyes at the sitting sharp shooter. "A kiss."

(Y/N)'s focused gaze quickly faltered as their face lightly flushed. "What?"

"Y'know, a smooch? A peck? A little canoodle-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Saints, fine." they answered.

Jesper's joking attitude suddenly turned into a serious and smug one. He turned back towards the table, facing each of the unhappy gamblers, and moved a stack of kruge into the middle of the table. "All right boys, get ready to loose." (Y/N) let out a small snort at the comment before turning around, grabbing a chair from another table, and bringing it right next to Jesper's.

The round went as following; Jesper started out well. He didn't brag too much, kept a decent poker face, and make carful decisions when placing his cards. His lead lasted long enough for (Y/N) to become worried about their prior deal, but like usual, it all came crashing down eventually.

Jesper got proud of himself to early, and didn't think his next few plays all the way through, causing a man on the other side of the table to take his win. "Well then, Jes, seems like you've gotta get back to work." (Y/N) chuckled.

Jesper looked over at them, and smiled softly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going." he laughed back. He stood up from the chair he previously occupied, and pushed it back in it's place before glancing back at the fellow crow. "In case you finish your shift before or after I do, goodnight my dear, and sleep well. Try to dream of me." he said, returning to his usual joking self.

Before he could walk away, (Y/N) reached forwards, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. He glanced down at them confused. (Y/N) shrugged before answering. "I know you didn't win, but you still did pretty good, so-" they cut themself off by pulling him down, and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Better luck next time I guess. And hey, maybe then you'll get a real kiss." They then pulled away from Jesper and let go of his jacket. The crow patted Jesper's shoulder twice, and then walked back in the direction of the bar.

A dopey grin grew on Jesper's face, as he watched them leave. "Huh." he joyfully muttered to himself. A small laugh left his mouth uncontrollably. Jesper turned around, making eye contact with their boss, who had witnessed the whole interaction, and sent him a sly wink. He didn't wait for Kaz's response before making his way to the door, walking the entire time with a new pep in his step.

#six of crows x reader #reader insert #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse #six of crows imagine #six of crows #jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #kit young

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nothorses · 1 year

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i regularly help my mom with door dash and i see this all the time. sometimes we get an order that's, say, $6 going down the road and we think "oh that's really good!" and we assume that would be like, a $2-$3 tip, right?

no.

often when someones food hasn't been picked up in a long time, door dash will raise the base pay drivers are given to entice people to take it. we've taken entire family dinners to people for 0 tip because of this and it pisses us off every time... my entire family is disabled and other than our social security this is our main income.

if you can't afford to pay someone for their labor, you can't afford the fucking food! go eat somewhere else!

Also, like, doordash calculates the cost based on the price of the meal rather than the distance driven; your one-person Wendy's meal that takes me 20 minutes to get to you (between the drive-through line, the drive itself, finding your place, and the handoff) still only pays me, like, $2.50.

Your tip might be another $1.50 on that, and that's $4 for a half hour of my time; then I have to wait and possibly drive a ways back into the dash zone just to get another job, and by the time I'm on my way to the next job, I might have made $4 for, at minimum, 30 minutes of labor. If you short me the tip on that as well, I made $2.50. If that happens to me again, I make $5 for the whole hour.

Bear in mind that the hours you're most likely to make any money during the day amount to like, 2 hours in the afternoon and another 4 in the evening.

And like you said, drivers don't see the tip until after they deliver the order, at the soonest. You can finish a whole order thinking you're getting paid fairly, only to find out afterward that the customer fucked you over.

The zone I started working in also had the only Safeway in the area, and the Safeway contracted us for deliveries; customers didn't have access to the Doordash site/app, and literally could not tip us except in cash when we showed up (which I only ever had happen once).

Safeway doesn't tip.

At one point I drove 20 minutes from the Safeway to the customer, and that's after waiting in line for 15 minutes to pick the order up, and before another 20 minute drive back into the delivery zone to get my next order, plus the handoff. About an hour of labor. The Safeway order paid me $7.

That's less than half of minimum wage in this area.

Drivers in that zone tell each other not to take Safeway orders because they don't tip, and they're never worth the pay. The catch is that every time you turn an order down, your % of orders accepted lowers; if it drops under 70%, you receive less orders for less pay.

So even if you do turn down an order that you know isn't going to pay well, you're punished by the app, and given fewer opportunities to make money, period. You are pressured to work for less, and to gamble on shit orders in the vain hope of a decent tip to compensate.

Servers rely on your tips. They do not have an option. This isn't a hypothetical; you are causing direct harm. Yes, Doordash needs to fucking do better, and it's not your fault they're set up like that. But your asshole choices have an impact on us because of that, and knowing that, you can choose not to cause harm.

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viktortittiforov · 19 days

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✨ help a queer disabled creature out ✨

hiii! this is my first time making one of these so i don't really know what i'm doing but please bear with me!!

my name is neptune and i'm queer and disabled. i have ADHD, depression+anxiety and a chronic eye condition that leaves me with only one seeing eye (and with high eye pressure in my blind eye, which is occasionally painful and gives me headaches). i am also trans and currently pursuing HRT, which where i'm from means i first have to travel all over the country to a bunch of different specialists who need to determine whether i am Transsexual™ enough (which costs money).

i am employed, but i work at an NGO, which, coupled with the fact that i can't work there full-time due to my disabilities, means i'm basically making a little above my country's minimum wage (converted to USD – i'm from central-eastern europe – i make roughly $810/month after tax). nearly half of my monthly income goes towards my rent, and this makes it very hard for me to save up money, especially given the so-called ADHD tax (look it up if you haven't heard of it).

as you can probably imagine, this is very stressful. i am privileged in that i am not in an immediately dire financial situation and have a solid support network, unlike a lot of other people on here. however, i live with constant financial anxiety. i have no safety cushion with which to cover longer periods of potential illness/recovery (e.g. after top surgery, which i might want), potential health emergencies of my two beloved cats (one of whom is a senior cat), or unexpected household expenses. i also have very little disposable income, which is not immediately a disaster, but which has gotten me into a difficult situation.

you see, one of the ways i can sustainably supplement my income is freelance photography and i would really benefit from making that a more regular thing. currently, however, the only camera i have at my disposal is a second-hand beginner level DSLR i got back in 2019, which is really beginning to struggle to keep up. this means i could really use a new camera so that i can take better photos and increase the chance of someone wanting to hire me. but cameras are expensive and there's no way i could comfortably afford even another second-hand one (the cost of a decent second-hand camera would be around $850).

sooo. i thought i could try my luck here? i'm not asking for any specific target amount and i will be happy for any help, no matter how small. i understand if you'd rather help out those who need it more urgently though! i know many of us hardly have the means to help even those.

if you do happen to have some spare change, though, here is my paypal. i'll be forever grateful!

thanks for reading 💜 adding a photo of me and my cats so you know i'm a real person i guess?

#mutual aid #donation request #queer mutual aid #neptalks #soz for this i'm just hella broke lmfaooo 🙏#if anyone knows of other ways to supplement my measly income that won't jeopardize my mental + physical health i'm open to suggestions 👍#disabled mutual aid #queer and disabled

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sailxrmxrs · 1 year

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i truly underestimated the sheer amount of brainrot watching trigun stampede would give me but here we go. this is the culmination of many nights spent scrolling vash fanart and letting the thoughts run wild. circumstances mean there's a gunfight happening and vash is there by your side trying to protect you but oops a bullet scraped past you and now he's taking you to safety asap to patch you up and fret over your wellbeing. protective vash being soft and flustered hits me directly in a weak spot he's just so.....y'know. love that little man.

Surviving in a hellish desert in the throes of summer was already an arduous task in its own right. Settlements and towns were miles upon miles apart, the distance feeling even longer when the horizon was a vast pool of sand as far as the eyes could see. Not to mention the perpetual thirst and hunger that ailed your body at any given time of day. The relief that coming across some semblance of civilisation brought was beyond words. However, enjoying such a sight was too often spoiled by hostile hosts or unsavoury groups. Travelling with Vash the Stampede meant there was never a boring moment, even if he did draw trouble like a magnet. Today was no different, under the unrelenting summer sun was the sound of gunfire. It had been like any other day until someone had recognised Vash and all hell broke loose. As soon as the gunfire started, you both dived for cover shortly before Vash charged off without a second thought to try and take care of things by himself. He always tried to insist that you remained out of danger despite knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Not once had you let Vash fight alone nor did you intend to start now. Pistol in hand, you held your own, immobilising anyone who came close enough. Never enough to fatally harm them, just enough to leave them unable or unwilling to keep fighting. Vash had been adamant that neither of you would be killers and you were more than happy to comply. Peaceful resolutions were few and far between but that didn't mean lives had to be lost for the sake of some gun fight over a money reward.

Surveying the area, you caught sight of Vash's familiar red coat. He artfully dodged a bullet flying his way, rolling behind a broken-down car for a momentary shelter. A perfect opening to make your way to him. Survival in numbers was always the winning move. You aimed your pistol, shooting at your assailant's feet and sending them off balance. It gave you enough time to jump to Vash's side, ducking just fast enough to dodge the bullet intended for you.

"What are you doing?! You never listen when I tell you to stay out of trouble," Vash complained, pouting as you caught your breath. It was almost impressive how he could sound so casual right in the middle of a direct attack on his life. He reloaded his bullets, lips still downturned though you knew he was secretly grateful for the backup. Even if Vash preferred to keep you out of harm's way, he never once doubted your ability to keep up with him.

"And let you have all the fun? No thanks." More gunshots struck the body of the car, swiftly ending any attempts at conversation. There would be time to talk things over later. First you had to get out with your lives in tact. You and Vash shared a look, silently communicating the usual plan of action and within an instant you were jumping back into the fray. In any other instance, being outnumbered would be cause for worry but with Vash at your side you knew that you would prevail. He hadn't earned his infamous reputation for nothing. Even if he was secretly far softer and much less prone to violence than the wanted posters suggested, his skill with a gun was on another level—though a decent helping of luck no doubt factored into his survival. Vash shouted over the cacophony of sounds, only just audible as he checked in with you. Even in the midst of battle Vash was as attentive as the situation allowed him to be. Every time you'd shout back that you were fine, that he should worry about himself but it did little to quell his worries.

The distant sound of cars approaching sounded from the deserted town centre. Whoever was leading this gang had called for backup and soon you and Vash were going to be surrounded. Your attackers were focused on Vash, intent on taking down the Humanoid Typhoon before worrying about the unnamed partner he'd found himself. He was worth a lot more in their eyes, which gave the perfect opportunity to slip away and take care of the threat before it became an even bigger problem. Usually you'd like to let Vash know if you were disappearing off somewhere but circumstance didn't allow it and you just had to hope he'd be able to find you once it was all over. You sprinted down past an old bar, its windows once boarded up but now littered with bullet holes. The place was certainly a ghost town. There had been no sign of life until a suspicious looking individual had emerged from the shadows asking who Vash was. There was no telling what troubles they'd caused here to clear out the townsfolk. Still, you couldn't dwell on maybes and what-ifs. What mattered here was getting out safely. And maybe finding some salvageable food and water to sustain you and Vash on the next leg of your journey.

Peeking out from an abandoned home, you caught sight of five men standing in what used to be the town centre. Whoever these people were they were no amateurs, at least judging by the size of their guns anyway. This could end poorly if you weren't careful. A more defensive approach was in order; sticking to the shadows to conceal your whereabouts was likely the only way you'd come out of this alive. You climbed through the broken window to the empty building beside you, making your way upstairs and onto the balcony. The wood of the balcony seemed to be holding together well enough to keep you mostly hidden from view with a few stray cracks and holes to keep an eye on your targets. It was the perfect spot to line up your gun and take aim without getting yourself caught too soon. You just had to hope the wooden barrier was enough to keep you from harm until you'd taken enough of them down. Your sight was limited, but even a few misses could suffice as warning shots to deter them from getting involved. On many occasions you'd watched grown men run screaming when a bullet struck metres away from their feet. All bark and no bite. Though something told you these men wouldn't go down quite so easily. Your intuitions proved accurate, the blind shots doing little to scare them off.

Within a few shots, your position was compromised and your targets had begun their own onslaught of bullets. A number of bullets struck the balcony though you still remained out of sight for the time being, the few hits you'd managed to land working in your favour to skew their aim. Judging by the speed at which they shot, you'd need to make a move. And fast. If one of them decided to make a run for the house you'd be without a solid escape route. Then, a bullet came flying, striking a wood panel beside you and giving your attackers a direct chance to shoot. You leapt up from your spot, running back into the house to make your escape. Footsteps thundered up the stairs leaving you no choice but to engage. Despite his imposing size, the man was not well-trained in close combat. His moves were predictable and clumsy, leaving one too many openings for you to take advantage of and send him crashing down unconscious. One threat down meant only four more to take care of. Then there was Vash and whatever chaos he was involved in right now. You couldn't let your concern for him cloud you judgement, pushing those fears aside as you made your way down and back out of the window you'd climbed in from. Gunshots were firing at an alarming rate though there was little strategy in it. They didn't know where you were just yet. Waiting behind the wall to the house, you let them edge closer before ambushing them with a fresh round of bullets. Now that you were on ground level, you could see two of the assailants holding back, no weapons in sight—though there was no counting on them being unarmed.

As shots fired, you tried to manoeuvre around the onslaught of ammunition but without sufficient cover you couldn't escape the scrapes of a few bullets. Cursing under your breath as one shot past your cheek and split the skin, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Vash. He was running like a fire had been lit inside of him. There was an intensity upon his face that you rarely ever saw. Even in the most dangerous and dire of situations, Vash always managed to send you a beaming smile. He was truly the embodiment of sunshine. But right now he was the eye of a storm crashing over all in its wake. He was ruthless with his shots, each one striking true and sending your attackers to the ground. Still alive, but perhaps wishing they weren't. The two men who had been hanging back and watching remained out of Vash's line of sight and, for the time being, out of danger. Not if you could help it. Raising your gun, you set onto the two remaining assailants. They were quick to return fire as they backed towards their car.

"Let them go. We need to get out of here," Vash called, making his way over to you. "Are you oka—" Vash halted mid-sentence, spotting the slow drip of blood down your cheek. Without another word, he was scooping you into his arms and running despite your protests. It was a minor injury, not one to panic over. But Vash didn't seem to think so. He carried you off to the other side of town, making for one of the abandoned homes still in good enough shape to act as sufficient shelter. He sat you down on an old leather couch, the material torn up and worn, as he rummaged through drawers in the neighbouring kitchen to look for something to clean the wound with.

"Can I trust you to stay there while I go back to our car? Assuming it's still in one piece, that is," Vash asked, eyeing up with caution. Worried knitted his brows as he contemplated leaving you here alone and unprotected.

"I can walk, you know? It's just a little scratch."

Vash shook his head, blonde hair as animated as his expression. "Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor."

"Am now. Stay there." Vash made for the doorway before turning back to add, "I'm glad you're okay."

When he returned with some supplies, Vash set to cleaning your wound. The bleeding had long since stopped but he was adamant that it required his utmost attention. His movements were gentle as he wiped away the dried blood with a dampened rag of fabric while his other hand softly holding your chin in place. He always touched you with a delicate sense of care, but this felt almost as if he were scared to break you any further. Despite his tenderness, something darker seemed to linger in Vash's face. As if he felt guilty for not being there just that little bit sooner. None of this was his fault. There was no way to predict such an attack would happen. It was simply the way of the land. Whether Vash viewed it that way or not was another matter entirely. Once he deemed you cleaned up and devoid of any other injuries, Vash tossed aside the cloth and leaned forward in his seat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, usually full of energy after making a safe escape from a fight.

"Vash?" Your voice was low, tentative so as not to startle him. "Please don't blame yourself for what happened out there. I'm fine, see?"

His eyes remained fixed on a hole in the flooring as he responded. "They came after us because of me. You got hurt because I wasn't fast enough."

"No." You immediately denied his admissions of guilt, edging closer to place your hands on his cheeks. They were as soft as usual, tinted pink from sun exposure. His eyes were glistening, tears threatening to spill down those rosy cheeks. "This isn't your fault, Vash."

"I was so scared. I thought I'd taken care of the last of them then I turn and see you're gone. I heard gunshots and—" He paused, voice cracking. "You don't know how I relieved I was to see you still alive."

Your heart ached, knowing all too well the fear that had likely stricken him in that moment. "I promised that we were in this together, didn't I? Can't go breaking it just yet." You smiled, heart fluttering at the sight of Vash mirroring the action. Your thumb swiped at a stray tear as you left a soft kiss on the bridge of Vash's nose. His cheeks warmed a deeper shade as he tried to pull away. He flustered easily but still tried to hide it every time to no avail.

"Think we're good here for the night? We could do with sleeping in an actual bed for once. One more night in the car might actually kill me."

Vash nodded, hands finding yours as he pulled you up from your spot on the couch. "Practice for the future, hm? All cosy in a little house. Could be nice. So long as you don't mind the bounty, that is."

"It's worth it if it's you." Vash's hold on your hands dropped, his hands moving to cover his bright, blushing face. Your laugh chimed with the sound of his whining complaints. What the future held in store for you and Vash was unknown, but you were certain that so long as he was smiling, all would be well.

#trigun x reader #vash x reader #trigun stampede x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun fanfic #2023 is the year of wolfwood n vash occupying 87% of my brain space #and honestly i don't mind this is great #no number of fics involving this man will sustain me he's just so #anyway goodnight to vash enjoyers and vash enjoyers only #anna writes

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