#i should make a tag for evie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sealrock · 10 months

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still slowly working on my carrd, it's 60% finished for the most part. I still have my old bio pages up to read, but just know once I'm through they will be taken down as I'll consider them out of date

I added some new lore bits, removed some old bits, revamped the current bits to be more cohesive, and I'm considering some extra bits to add but I'm not 100% on them yet

here's some crumbs in random order under the cut:

I was trying to avoid this, but tauvane drinks dragon blood (courtesy of her brother-in-law zeumont) and fights the dragonsong war on the side of the dragons, thus making her public enemy #1. she has scales that she doesn't show to anyone and goes through a mild transformation that gives her superhuman speed and draconic features

evander is trying to create the philosopher's stone to cure a fatal illness related to his unstable aether, and he'll stop at nothing to obtain forbidden knowledge through rather unethical means. he owns and operates a tiny chemist guild in ul'dah and they always struggle to secure funds and resources as they're in direct competition with the alchemist's guild. he has a team of mammets that monitor his health and a rag-tag group of fledging chemist guildmates who strive to make life-saving medicine more accessible and affordable to the smallfolk in and around eorzea

achille may or may not have abilities related to tauvane's dragon blood addiction. he doesn't crave blood, but it sends him into a spiral thinking that he can turn out like her despite his efforts to save his mother. and instead of limsa lominsa since I'm moving away from the sea pirate angle, achille was born in coerthas in an abandoned cabin and wasn't allowed to go outside for the first 8 years of his life until he met chiron. he was almost executed by the halonic inquisition as a child after they found tauvane's hiding place, as they believed he was a draconic spawn that must be put down

patroclus has trauma-based amnesia that's related to the night his parents died. he was an unlikely witness to what would later be known as a murder mystery, but he can't remember much of it. instead of being killed, the perpetrator left him in the desert in hopes he would perish from exposure as he was still a child when it happened. after almost a week he was miraculously found wandering alone by a traveling merchant; he was weak from hunger, barefoot, and mute from shock. patroclus didn't speak for almost two years after the event. priam only took him in to keep patroclus from revealing the truth of his parents' murder

hector and halmarut have a more personal relationship with one another than anyone had ever realized. think of gaia and mitron but it's not romantic, it's more akin to beyond: two souls, amnesia: the dark descent, and outlast with psychological horror elements mixed in. hector is plagued with horrific visions and moments of dissociation because of halmarut's influence, though he didn't know it then. he only associated this with what he called 'the shadow', a terrifying but strangely protective entity

kirke was a scientist for the garlean military, the body she inhabits was once a conscript soldier from a far away province, she effectively killed off the host to take over the corpse like a parasite. she rose through the ranks quickly once the higher-ups realized that she's a living relic of allag. kirke doesn't care much for garlemald's conquest of the world as long as it doesn't interfere with her work of mixing science with necromancy. she held the rank of 'mal' (praefectus medicorum) and was the head medic of an imperial legion before the fall of garlemald

andromache may or may not be involved with a shadowy organization (NOT the ascians) with the goal of destroying hydaelyn the mothercrystal. this organization saved her life after the 7UC and helped her get back on her feet despite her amnesia. they want to go back to a time when man once had the power to become a living primal without the need to temper others, they share a common goal with the scions in stopping the ascians from completing another rejoining

yves can transform into a giant voidsent canine with multiple heads (aka shadowkeeper). despite his moniker 'the accursed one', the mages of mhach worshipped him and his mother cessair as their savior and destroyer of amdapor. think silent hill with the order and alessa/alessa becoming god. yves' sire is still being figured out he may or may not be related to golbez just based on yves being extremely powerful

paris and their voidsent have a relationship much like light and ryuk from death note. they bicker, they argue, they fight, they joke, but they have a contract with one another: the more paris borrows its power, the higher the voidsent sets the price for paris' aether afterward. in the event that paris is no longer able to control the power, the voidsent is allowed to eat them whole, thus the contract would be fulfilled. it makes the climax of endwalker incredibly dicey because of paris and zenos' deathmatch against one another, paris quite literally almost died out there if it weren't for meteion's timely intervention

azem (helen) is much more of an outsider and firebrand than originally conceived. they never conformed to any of the rules and fought back against society's conservatism and politics, which earned them a lot of enemies and very few friends. their parents, highly esteemed scientists, strived for them to earn a respectable seat in the convocation since the seat of azem in my vision is less respected and more mocked for its reputation of attracting odd seat holders like venat. instead, helen became the new azem, which infuriated their family enough to cut off all contact with them. helen is related to lahabrea, and they despise each other. helen enjoyed hanging out with erich however

#i should make a tag for these kind of posts #after i rewrite evie's bio i'll have. 2/10 done :^)#meta.

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starlit-mansion · 1 year

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it's soooo funny when you get compliments on a stylistic choice you started doing out of laziness lmao

#if you look way back in my art tag you will see that i used to do almost exclusively pen and ink drawings with lots of crosshatch shading #then i started doing digital art and experimenting with color #and i quickly realized i did not like doing cell shading or blended shading in color so i did flat colors only #but it made my characters look kind of dead (i should go back and fix the one drawing of mal in a purple checked suit... he PALLID)#so i started adding in a lot of blush on the skin #(also i am a naturally flushed ruddy person to the point it looks like an allergic reaction sometimes so i know where it lays)#and also at one point i was drawing candi reclining and thought it would be fun if his tummy was lighter bc of spending so much time outsid #which a lot of my characters do because they work at a theme park and even using sunscreen they get a tan in the summer #and then i got a couple compliments on evie's tanlines and i was like ...oh people like that? nice. i have a signature feature #i also just like drawing people with more texture. since i'm not trying to boil designs down for comics there's more room for it #like i only relatively recently started drawing mal's five o'clock shadow and i think it makes him look cuter #i never posted my slight stevie redesign but they have a lot of moles and that's also very cute #and i've been trying to add in candi's acne scars

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mikodrawnnarratives · 4 months

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Imagine trinket duo (Maggie & Max) wisdom teeth removal shenanigans

that is all

#maggie white #evie artino #max everhart #trinket duo #renegades trilogy #I hope the duo name makes sense #like trinket for maggie is nod to all the stuff she steals obviously #but max also kept himself busy with items and figures that adrian made him when in quarantine so i bet his collecting would continue after #maybe I should have a collection duo tag to #collection duo #idk that doesn't ring as well to me

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caesium-55 · 2 months

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—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

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cutielando · 4 months

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my love ~ lando norris

instagram au

synopsis: hard-launching your relationship and showing the world just how much of a simp lando is <3

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

liked by y/n.official, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 4,567,389 others

landonorris my whole world. tagged: y/n.official

view all 794,867 comments

y/n.official i love you so much <3

landonorris i love you more baby <3

maxfewtrell you could have at least given me photo credits for having to put up with you two liked by y/n.official and landonorris

landonorris shut tf up

y/n.official don't listen to him, we love you max <3

carlossainz55 congrats mate!

landonorris thanks! now you can finally stop calling me lando norizz

y/n.official never stop calling him lando norizz, carlos

carlossainz55 wasn't planning on it

landonorris y/n.official whose side are you on?

y/n.official my own side

user1 OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE THISSSSS. LANDO NORIZZ??????? 🤯🤯

user2 PARENTS

user3 mommy? sorry, mommy? 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user4 pathetically sobbing into my pillow because of how cute they are

user1 same girl, same

mclaren can't wait to see you in the paddock, y/n! 🧡 liked by y/n.official, landonorris and 14,967 others

user5 our papaya boy found his papaya girl 🧡🥺🥺

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 978,475 others

y/n.official our hearts speak the same language 🧡 tagged: landonorris

view all 173,687 comments

landonorris you make me the happiest that i have ever been

landonorris i love you baby 🧡

y/n.official i love you more honey 🫶🏻

maxfewtrell such a simp

landonorris maxfewtrell let me be

lilymhe adorable !!! ❤️

y/n.official i miss you girl !!! 🩷🩷

lilymhe landonorris alex_albon double date?

alex_albon sigh...anything for you baby

landonorris the things we do for our girls

user1 SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY'RE SO PRECIOUS 😩😩😩

user2 when will it be my turn 😭😭

user3 i'm so happy for them !! they look happy together

francisca.cgomes you are gorgeous together !! ❤️❤️

y/n.official i love you !! ❤️

user4 this is lowkey the couple we didn't know we wanted but needed liked by y/n.official

mclaren 🧡

user5 the mclaren admin is just as in love with them as we are liked by mclaren

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 1,856,394 others

y/n.official smile 📸 tagged: landonorris, lando.jpg

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landonorris my heart smiles when i'm with you

y/n.official you're making me blush babe 🤭

landonorris 😏😏😏

user1 he's so head over heels for her 😩😩😩

user2 LANDO.JPG CONTENT?????

user3 will we see you at races after the summer break y/n.official?

y/n.official yes !!! i'll be there and i'm excited to meet all of you !! 🧡

user3 omg she actually replied i'm crying 😭😭😭😭😭😭

carlossainz55 he hasn't stopped talking about you while we were golfing this morning 😠

landonorris can't help it

y/n.official i'm the same, so 😋

liked by y/n.official, daniel3.jpg and 302,586 others

lando.jpg my muse tagged y/n.official

y/n.official you make me feel beautiful 😭🫶🏻

landonorris you are a goddess. i love you

y/n.official i love you so much 🥹

daniel3.jpg glad to see you taking pictures again

landonorris i have a pretty good subject to capture now

user1 she is so beautiful i can't 😩😩😩😩😩

user2 i wanna be her so badly 🥲

user3 i wanna meet her as badly as i wanna meet lando

user4 landonorris can you fight? cause we're coming to steal your girl

landonorris 🤺

francisca.cgomes you are gorgeous 😮‍💨

y/n.official no you are 😏

user5 being alive at the same time as y/n should be considered a blessing liked by landonorris

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lovewithmary · 7 months

Text

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock?

previous next series masterlist

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 39420123 others

eviestark: i believe this called a photo dump? idk blame lando and danny for this

tagged: landonorris charles_leclerc lewishamilton carlossainz55 danielricciardo

comments

author: yes half of these pictures are from lando’s jpg account ignore it pls

landonorris: photo credit for the 8th picture 😎 ↳ eviestark: does it really count as photo credit when we were just facetiming and you said "smile!" and i did? ↳ landonorris: it is in my book

user1: SHE INFILTRATED THE GRID

user2: DID ALL OF THEM GIVE HER THOSE FLOWERS?

user3: ma’am do you need a dog? i can bark

user4: evie fr went from being seen with only max to everyone with her BUT max 💀

user5: gold digger ↳ user8: im sorry... but did you see her last name? STARK. meaning STARK INDUSTRIES. she's probably richer than all of the f1 drivers in this photo dump

carlossainz55: amor my picture does not look good ↳ eviestark: i told you i was taking a picture los :( ↳ user17: THE NICKNAMES????? LOS AND AMOR

lilymhe: beautiful 😍 (the flowers + evie) ↳ eviestark: can albono fight? cause i’ll fight him ↳ alex_albon: ill try to fight, but ill probably get my ass kicked by black widow's prodigy ↳ eviestark: ALEX ↳ alex_albon: shit was i not supposed to say that? ↳ lilymhe: i apologize on his behalf 😭

francisca.cgomes: i miss you smmm! we should hang out again ↳ eviestark: leave gasly, ill treat u better 😘 ↳ pierregasly: excuse me? ↳ eviestark: don't look gasly

carmenmmundt: girls day when? ↳ eviestark: get rid of george and it'll be girls night every night ↳ georgerussell63: i'm watching you evie ↳ eviestark: and you can watch me steal your girl russell

charles_leclerc: i wasn't even looking at the camera ↳ eviestark: but you still look good stfu

user6: evie must’ve saved a village in her past life because how is she so pretty, A STARK, and rumored to be with most of the f1 grid rn? ↳ user7: don’t forget her family is the avengers, she has 3 degrees, and can fight (as we have just discovered by alex)

user9: evie who is your favorite f1 driver rn (hint: m.v) ↳ charles_leclerc: (m)charles (v)leclerc ↳ landonorris: (m)lando (v)norris ↳ carlossainz55: (m)carlos (v)sainz ↳ danielricciardo: (m)daniel (v)ricciardo ↳ lewishamilton: lewis hamilton ↳ eviestark: (m)yuki (v)tsunoda (but lewis is a close second) ↳ user10: SHE'S ONE OF US!!!! ↳ landonorris: why is yuki your favorite ↳ eviestark: 1. have you seen him 2. he eats the stuff i bake 3. have you seen him ↳ landonorris: fair enough ↳ yukitsunoda0511: i will always eat anything you bake :)

danielricciardo: practiced on my jpg account to prepare myself to take picture of evie at the eiffel tower ↳ eviestark: it's pretty but it's blurry ↳ danielricciardo: you couldn't stop laughing and you turned around! ↳ eviestark: i only turned around bc u kept on making funny faces while u were taking pictures!!!

tonystark: tesoro did u get the autograph from my favorite driver? ↳ eviestark: i did, but papa you just should've texted me instead of commenting on my post 😭 😭 ↳ user11: TONY WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE DRIVER? 🎤 ↳ tonystark: lewis hamilton. ↳ user12: shouldn't it be max since you've known him the longest ↳ tonystark: not anymore.

lewishamilton: roscoe misses you ↳ user13: SHE GOT TO MEET ROSCOE HAMILTON? oh verstappen is fucked ↳ user14: not just roscoe, she also has (lewis) hamilton, ricciardo, norris, leclerc, and sainz liked by eviestark

user15: isn't it kinda fucked that just bc max was seen with kelly piquet evie is all of a sudden surrounded by f1 drivers when she and max were never together? ↳ user16: bffr she's not doing anything wrong. like u said, they were never together so that means that it doesn't matter if she's hanging out with f1 drivers now liked by eviestark

#f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 ig au #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #avengers crossover #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smau

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notjustjavierpena · 4 months

Text

His

A/N: This has been on hiatus since July. I have finally decided to finish up another chapter. I have no idea where this is going but I am just going with it at this point. They’re fun! Enjoy part 4 of mean!joel ❤️💖

Summary: After Joel kisses you, something shifts. You find out a hard truth and take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, a mishmash of feelings, dubcon-ish themes, a hint of sub!joel (?!!!!?!!??) but he is not happy about it, a hint of edging, handjobs, degradation, humiliation, riding, unprotected piv, slapping, dirty talk, empty threats

Word count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/135617983

His

Something shifts after Joel kisses you and leaves. Especially because he did it in a way that made it seem like he was bolting out of a burning building, leaving you inside for the walls to come tumbling down around you. You hardly blame him for reacting like he did that night; he is the most emotionally unavailable man you have ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting, and you doubt that he even has the vocabulary to put words to why he fled your bed like it was the scene of a crime. It isn’t like you’re going to ask him though, not even despite being curious about his reasoning and intentions.

For you, it is not a mystery what the shift is. The arrangement between the two of you used to be anticipation, fury, and lust. Now it’s a gentle tug at your heartstrings when you catch a glimpse of him in the streets and he doesn’t look your way, knowing you should not want him in the way you do.

How you want him is harder to pinpoint. It’s not wedding bells, it’s not children padding around on the wooden floor of your home, it’s not doing laundry for him and watching him do the dishes after sharing a meal. It’s something less complicated than love. You don’t want him to love you, but you wouldn’t mind being his only and his favorite.

Though irony would have it that it turns out you are indeed not his only source of whatever fucked up thing the two of you exchange once in a while.

During a short break from a late-night meeting of your patrol group (Joel had decided last week to switch to another), one of the newcomers to Jackson snickers girlishly as she tells the rest of you about how Joel Miller had made her come four times last weekend. It makes something uncomfortable swirl in your stomach, makes it drop as you feel foolish about thinking you were special. Additionally, it takes all the willpower in you to not blurt out that he had made you come seven times during one of the nights you’d spent together.

To your surprise, It isn’t that he has slept with someone else that hits you. It’s the little piece of information that your new patrol member lets slip with a giggle.

“Such a gentleman,” she says, basking in the attention of the circle of women standing around her. Their collective sigh makes you wonder what they’d say if you let them know that Joel forced you to suck him off the first time you were together. A part of you suspect that she is lying as she continues, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, girls. He was just so attentive and sweet.”

After the meeting, you feel like you’re about to suffocate if you don’t leave the building quickly. The tightening in your chest makes your heart feel caged, desperate to come out into the open and bleed all over the place from making its way past your ribs. Desperately, you push past anyone who does not jump out of your way immediately.

Once outside, you find a quiet spot behind the community center where people only come to be alone. You rest your forehead against the side of the building, breathing deeply in through your nose and exhaling shakily as you suppress the tears that threaten to roll down your face.

“Fuck,” you say bitterly as a droplet still manages to escape from the corner of your eye. You wipe it away with a quick swipe of your hand as if to hide the evidence from the world and yourself, “Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck are you crying over him about?”

However, the single tear seems to have opened the floodgates because you find yourself properly crying a few seconds later. It is ridiculous, you know this, but you cannot help the shaky breaths that leave your mouth as your cheeks stain with tears.

Joel is not anything special. Joel is rude and arrogant, bordering on narcissistic and psychotic. You’re not even sure if he can smile, if he’s funny, or if he’s capable of not ruining things when touching them. He sure has ruined you, ruined both your nights and days because they’re spent wondering about him.

Then again, surely he must know this because he looks at you from across the room the way he does. He must know what he is doing to you, and it makes you fucking furious because how did he ever think that he had the right to pursue you? Make you want him? And, to top all of it off, how does he think he has the right to not appreciate you?

Rage slowly builds in your chest. Your heartbeat is threatening to make you pass out with how fast it is going, but you ground yourself by taking a few deep breaths that eventually stop your tears as well.

I’ll fucking show him, you think, and it’s the white-hot fury in you that is talking.

You stalk across the streets of Jackson, earning a few concerned glances but no warning words. It’s a relief that you look angry enough for people not to bother you, because you wouldn’t be able to articulate your reasons for wanting to implode with how furious you are.

Your legs take you all the way to Joel’s house. You stomp angrily up the porch’s stairs, but it’s only when you burst Joel’s front door open that you realize that you actually haven’t been in his home before. It’s also only then that you realize that you have no idea what you’re going to do now that you are here, too angry and out of your damn mind to explore the many pictures on the walls, the wooden carved figures on the shelves and… is that a guitar?

You mentally shake yourself.

“Focus on the task at hand,” you say quietly with exasperation, and then the search for your betrayer begins.

You walk through the house with determination, but you soon realize that he is nowhere to be found downstairs. It doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t locked his door (nobody in Jackson does), but you still feel disappointed that you can’t make a big dramatic scene of throwing a plate in the kitchen or a cushion in the living room. You feel slightly like a rage-filled balloon that’s slowly losing air.

So you decide to go upstairs whilst still clinging to your rage, planning on waiting in his bedroom for his return but realizing that Joel is already in and sleeping in his bed. It’s late enough, you suppose, and you know he has a series of hard labor tasks on certain days.

You try your hardest not to feel too intoxicated by the smell of him on the sheets, need your head clear as you slowly start to undress right in front of his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful and so unlike his usual stoic self, and so vulnerable that the opportunity is too great to miss.

You freeze the times he stirs slightly but he never wakes up, and soon, you are down to your underpants and nothing more and you are so wet with the anticipation of both sex and power in the room, even more with Joel being so unaware of it.

The bed creaks as you crawl onto it. You manage to straddle Joel before he wakes up fully, immediately lifting his arms to grab you and defend himself but when he realizes it’s your body on top of his, he falters.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” His voice is filled with sleep but he is nowhere near panic as you had hoped.

You lean down over him and grab at his chin with the hand that’s not holding you up. You smile down at him but Joel is already staring down at your chest as you hover above him. You shake his head slightly, “Eyes up here, you bastard.”

“Shouldn’t look so pretty then,” he retorts.

“Heard you were screwing around with that new bimbo. I thought you liked a challenge,” you tighten the grip on Joel’s jaw, push him back into the mattress, and catch the way he is connecting the dots in his head but the time it takes him makes you realize that there has been more than her. You growl, still hovering over him, and leaning down to ghost your lips over his whilst your eyes roam over his face, “It’s a damn fucking privilege to be breathing the same air as me.”

“Cute,” he says quietly and brattishly.

You push down briefly before letting go. Your eyes look down at his lips but you don’t kiss him like you want to, don’t want to give in when it would seem so vulnerable to give in to that temptation.

Instead, you reach up to hold your palm in front of his mouth. You smile innocently, “Lick it.”

“What?” He chuckles in disbelief.

“Go on. Do as I say.”

Joel lets out his tongue and wets his lips. He gives in faster than you have anticipated, licks a long stripe from the start of your wrist to the middle of your palm, and coats your hand in disgusting, hot, and dirty saliva.

“Did she do that?” You ask. You feel behind yourself to slide a hand down into Joel’s jeans and then past the waistband of his underwear, “Put you in your place because she knows how disgusting you are?”

Joel is already half-hard as you take him in your slicked palm, and his cock comes alive fully not a moment later. He gasps into the bedroom but still looks cocky as ever, “Which of ‘em?”

“Fuck you,” you stroke him slowly and his breaths come out in small puffs that hardly make him seem calm and composed. You realize how much you’ve needed, craved, to put your hands on him.

“That can be arranged,” he says, trying to catch a glimpse of what you are doing to him. He starts to move, makes an effort to flip you around but you catch him before he can follow through. You tighten your grip around his cock, squeezing him around the base until he gasps softly.

“No one but me,” you say, “Okay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, what is this?” He rolls his eyes and moans when you stroke him once and then twice.

“Are you going to behave?” You ask with a harsh grip again. You let your lips touch briefly now.

“What?” Joel looks slightly disgusted.

“I asked,” you begin and now you start to stroke him properly, mimicking what you have seen him do to himself when he has wanted to come on your face, “Are you going to behave, Joel?”

“No,” he teases.

“Don’t make me ask once more, baby,” you move your hand up and down quickly, almost forcing him to near orgasm before you squeeze around the base to edge him. He hisses, neck blushing with how his heartbeat must be on overdrive.

“Fuck,” he groans, throbbing in your hand, and with his snark, you almost just want to spend hours tracing the vein along his length with your fingertip, “Whaddaya want? You want me to be your little boyfriend or somethin’? Don’t be dumb, it don’t suit ya.”

“Listen,” you say, scooting back slightly and leaving a stain of your slick on the bottom of his t-shirt, “I’ll stick your big cock in me right now and let you come in me if you say I’m your only girl. You’ll never need another pussy than this.”

He says your name as you straighten on top of him again but you let him know it doesn’t mean anything to you. Your free hand reaches to pull your panties to the side, and then you hold his cock in place as you slide down onto it and let it stretch you by bottoming out inside of you. You try your best to look motionless but he has a girth that stings.

“Say it,” you demand, slightly out of breath at the feeling of sitting on his thighs now.

Joel is silent. He stares up at you, looking as if he has won because he is already inside of you but when you don’t hear an answer, you start lifting yourself off of him again. Joel grabs your hips in protest, holds you down, “No.”

“Then say it,” you reply, “Now.”

“You’re my girl,” he moans helplessly as you reward him with a roll of your hips. You make a noise as well, something closer to a tiny cry for him but you aren’t going to give in just like that.

“The only?” You inquire when you regain your composure.

“My only girl, even if she’s a fuckin’ pain in the ass,” he groans. You flex your thighs to grip him around the middle and then you squeeze his length, letting your walls clamp down and it sends his eyes rolling backward. He bucks up his hips and you moan.

However, you still have more to say and do. You don’t move yet, “I don’t believe you.”

Joel rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening but he still doesn’t force you to ride him, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck now?”

“I think you’re a liar,” you inform him, trying to ignore how much every instinct in your body is telling you to use his dick for yourself. You squeeze around him again, “I think you’ll say anything to get pussy.”

“No one’s got a pussy like yours, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that?” He bares his teeth like an aggressive, cornered dog and he groans at the feeling of your soft, wet walls, “You’re like fuckin’ cocaine. Need more each time or I’ll never recover.”

“Don’t go finishing in me, Joel,” you scold.

“I ain’t gonna,” he bites back, “I do have some self-control.”

“With the way you’ve been whoring around?” You tut, experimentally rocking your hips forward to feel him slip almost all the way out of your cunt. You move back to let him bury himself deep once more and whine, “Riiight.”

“Watch it, we’re only doin’ this because I allow it. I could break ya spine like a fuckin’ toothpick,” he breathes, hands going up along your thighs until he lets them glide up your back as if he is going to make truth of his threat, “Don’t forget who has the upper hand here.”

You relish in his rough hands on your lower back and finally start up a pace to ride him properly, not caring about how your thighs start to burn as you seek out pleasure. It’s a fun contrast to what Joel has just told you because his eyes glaze over in a way that shows you that he wouldn’t even know how to snap you in half if he wanted to.

His breath has quickened, each intake and exhale becoming airy, whilst he holds your soft sides in his calloused grip. You rest your palms on top of his forearms, undulating your hips until his eyes roll back. He seems like he might lose his mind this time around, so submissive in his own way now that what you are doing to him has hit him by surprise.

He shamelessly groans your name. Its roughness spurs you on, making you lean forward a little further to give him more. You ride him as if your life depends on it until something burns delicious in your belly and his pelvic bone grinds into your clit.

Your first proper moan leaves you, high and squeaky. The angle has you baring your teeth, your breathing shaking, from how his cockhead stabs at your front wall repeatedly. You start spitting filth to not sound pathetic even further, “Fuck, Joel, your big cock is enough to make a girl lose her sanity. Makes my eyes wanna roll back.”

But Joel says nothing as he seems pissed off by what you have made of him. Instead, he breathes hard through his nose and occasionally lets a moan fall from his mouth. It pisses you off too. He had such a smart mouth just moments ago, and now he has resorted to being spiteful.

You make a rash decision then. You move steadily on his cock, rhythm not faltering once, whilst reaching down to his face with your dominant hand. You smack his cheek hard enough to make a point and a noise, eyes narrowed, “Snap out of your ego tripping.”

Joel responds not with words but by curling his hand around your wrist and yanking it away, and then he takes hold of your smaller body once again and starts snapping his hips upwards, crashing them into yours until you nearly topple off of him after crying out. He tightens his hands on your body whilst you hold his forearm with one hand and have the other firmly planted on his chest, and suddenly you are working together towards a crescendo.

“Give it to me!” You yell with your eyes screwed shut from the pressure against your clit and g-spot. Joel is swearing and his chest is glistening with sweat but he gives in to your command, making you bounce in his lap until he throws his head back and yells with you.

“Fuck, honey,” he grits out, “Gonna make me come inside ya tight pussy.”

“Oh, it talks?” You quip, trying to hold back a pathetic string of cries but to no avail. Joel smooths his hands up to cup your body just below your breasts, digging his thumbs into your rib cage.

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorts.

“I’m gonna come,” you say instead and furrow your brow.

“Yeah?” He mocks but then his face goes slack and you feel him twitch inside of you, impossibly close to the edge too, “Fuuuck, I can feel ya. Choke my cock real good, Doll.”

You come hard, unable to catch your breath as you keep moving back and forth on his length. Your whole pussy pulses, tight walls gripping him even further. The fingers holding onto his forearm make little indents and your nails on the other hand scratch into his chest until red lines form. And you cry. Oh, you cry and cry for him whilst singing his name.

The clenching of your cunt around his dick makes him reach his own point of no return a moment after. He does a sharp intake of breath and when he exhales even sharper, a groan follows, and his cock releases come inside of you.

You use your last bit of energy to ride him through it. Your delirious mind, hazy with pleasure, makes your mouth run as you slowly drag your hips to match each twitch of his length, “See? She can’t love you like I do. Is that really what you want, Joel?”

Joel pants underneath you. He tenses up when he hears those words but instead of pulling away, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you down, “What the fuck did you just say?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the realization. In your chest, your pulse beats rapidly, “Just ‘cause I said it, doesn’t mean that I meant it.”

Joel tightens his grip briefly but then lets go. He sighs, then reaches up to rub his forehead in frustration, “I don’t have the strength.”

“What’s so bad about it?” You ask, figuring that you might as well jump into the conversation now that you’ve been stupid enough to start it.

“Don’t,” he warns, letting out a noise as he moves to pull out of you. Your panties move back into place, causing you to shiver.

“Please,” you know it is weak of you.

Joel says your name, mimicking the tone of a parent who is tired of hearing their child pestering them about something. He finds your eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

“Just let me try something,” you continue and earn a raised brow. He stops trying to move. You swallow thickly but decide to be brave.

Carefully, you curl your fingers into Joel’s chest hair and reach for his cheek with your other hand. You close the distance between the two of you, finding his mouth with your own and kissing him with a lot less vigor compared to what you have just done.

Underneath your palm on Joel’s chest, you can feel him exhale in something resembling relief. He doesn’t fight the kiss, no, instead he moves his arms and holds your waist. He kisses you back with closed eyes and soft hands, and you try not to ruin it by becoming eager.

A few moments pass. When you finally pull away, he looks like a deer in the headlights of a car but you talk before he can, “Go to sleep. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything; I can see you’re exhausted.”

You move off of him to lie down at his side instead. Besides you, Joel closes his eyes without hesitation as if he needs to escape any conversation but when his breathing slows down further and you realize that he is drifting off, he looks mostly like a tamed beast.

Ever so gently, you run a hand over his hair. He shifts only a little bit, so you do it again and suddenly you’re stroking the salt and pepper curls repeatedly.

To think that he had been ready to fight if someone touched him just half an hour ago. You continue for a few minutes before leaving the bed, heading for his bathroom to get cleaned up, and when you return again, he doesn’t react this time either.

The next day, you’re back in the same patrol group.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #my writing #mean!joel

478 notes · View notes

hookhausenschips · 13 days

Text

Floor Queen {CL16}

500 Follower Special!!!

Navigation

Summary: Y/N is an Olympic Gymnast while also attending college at UCLA.

Taglist

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[Instagram]

charles_leclerc added to his story!

seen by uclagymnastics, flippingy/n, arthur_leclerc, and others

[Caption: Si bien mérité, tout le sang, la sueur et les larmes. Tu l'as fait bébé. Je ne peux pas exprimer à quel point je suis fier de toi❤️ So well deserved, all the blood, sweat, and tears. You did it baby. I can’t express how proud I am of you❤️]

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f1gossip

liked by user2825, user936, f1tea, and others

tagged: flippingy/n, charles_leclerc

f1gossip: It looks like Charles is back in the States visiting his girlfriend Olympic Gymnast Y/N Y/L/N at her college per her story today

View all comments:

user725: god I love their relationship 😩

f1tea: @/flippingy/n how many shots did he make?

> flippingy/n: do you want me to lie to you😅

> charles_leclerc: y/n!!

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flippingy/n

liked by pierregasly, uclagymnastics, charles_leclerc, leclerc_pascale, and others

tagged: charles_leclerc

flippingy/n: a little bit of life lately

View all comments:

charles_leclerc: did you really have to post that picture

> flippingy/n: your eyes looked so pretty love❤️

francisca.cgomes: that fourth pic should be you & me😭

> flippingy/n: I’M COMING HOME DARLING

uclagymnastics: Charles is our honorary wag🤩

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flippingy/n

liked by charles_leclerc, jade_distinguinn, lorenzotl, arthur_leclerc, and others

flippingy/n: What? Like it’s hard?

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uclagymnastics: floor queen ☄️

flavy.barla: so effortless 😍

> flippingy/n: says Ms Côte d’Azur 😩

user3951: no way Charles can handle all of that

> charles_leclerc: I in fact can, in many ways😏

> flippingy/n: CHARLES

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charles_leclerc

liked by leclerc_pascale, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, flippingy/n, and others

tagged: flippingy/n

charles_leclerc: All 10s. THAT’S MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE

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maxverstappen1: mate this isn’t your spam

landonorris: Ohhh Y/N is going to end him

pierregasly: it was nice knowing you mate

ferarriismyheartandsoul: WIFE?!!!

tifosi2825: honestly don’t color me shocked

user625: I KNEW IT

flippingy/n: Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc…

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flippingy/n added to her story!

seen by landonorris, lilymhe, flavy.barla, arthur_leclerc, and others

arthur_leclerc replied to your story:

So he’s out of the dog house non?

> Oh he’s still there, Leo stays with me😉

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charles_leclerc & flippingy/n

liked by flippingy/n, iamrebeccad, charlotte2304, landonorris, and others

charles_leclerc: Well cat’s out of the bag😅 forever and ever until the end and beyond then I’ll find you again in the afterlife mon amour❤️ •03-15-24•

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people

liked by leclerc_pascale, f1, nelly, kimkardashian, theestallion, and others

tagged: flippingy/n & charles_leclerc

people: inside look at the wedding between Olympian Y/N Leclerc-Y/L/N and Formula 1 Driver Charles Leclerc. Such a beautiful and timeless ceremony. 🔗 in bio for more!

=================================

Charles Leclerc Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @asparklysoul, @dhanihamidi, @xoscar03

F1 Taglist: @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery

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fereldanwench · 3 months

Text

apropos of nothing and certainly not my tag rant from a few posts back

did you know that out of 150 popular video games released between 1985 and 2022, only 6% of them feature sole female protagonists?

did you know that prior to mass effect 3, female shepard was never used in any promotional material for the series?

(and there's no hard data available on this, but i very distinctly recall a lot of gamerbro outrage when me3 had an optional reversible cover so you could pick between male and fem shep on your personal game)

did you know that only 18% of players chose femshep in any shape or form (default or customized) during the original release?

(anecdotally, i know a few people who didn't even realize you could play a female at all in me1 bc of how the cc is setup)

did you know with the release of the legendary edition in 2021 the percentage of femshep players didn't even double (despite jennifer hale's seemingly enormous popularity amongst the broader playerbase over the past decade) and is reported at 32%?

did you know that dragon age inquisition has the same breakdown between male and female inquisitors (68% to 32% respectively)?

did you know during the playtests for assassin's creed odyssey, it was a 50/50 split between kassandra and alexios, and ubisoft suits actually thought when the game was released, kassandra would be more popular? and yet once again, about 70% of players chose the male protag

did you know evie and aya were both supposed to have a much larger roles in assassin's creed syndicate and origins but were forced into a smaller role bc the ubisoft marketing team didn't think the games would sell well with a female lead?

cdpr hasn't released data on male vs female v, probably because the game handles gender a little differently than just two strict options like many other rpgs, but it was revealed that panam was the most popular romance, sitting at about 68%, which means at least 68% of players chose the male v body. I'm sure some players did not make that choice as a cis male v, but i would also guess that those who didn't are a small minority of this demographic, and if you factor in kerry romancers, this split is probably very similar to other games in the genre

now i realize that a lot of the male v players who are in more transformative fandom spaces (like tumblr) are not the str8 gamer dudebros of reddit angry about pores on a female character's face and whatnot. i realize that a lot of you are also on the outskirts of the perceived norm and also feel under-represented by mainstream male protags and that's incredibly frustrating and alienating and i genuinely feel for you

but female protagonists and female gamers who want to play as female protagonists and who have a few niche spaces to celebrate female protags are not the reason for your lack of representation

and frankly you don't sound a whole lot different from the angry incel gamer boys when you say shit like "fem v gets too much attention"

so maybe try advocating for male protags who don't fit the generic boring gruff white guy mold without throwing women under the bus. we're should be allies in this fight, not rivals

#t: wench.txt #leaving reblogs on as long as ppl behave #but i will come down hard with the block button on bad faith replies to this

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fbfh · 8 months

Text

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 6

wc: 2.8k

genre: slowburn, best friends to lovers, painful tooth rotting fluff

pairing: Audrey x Ben, eventual Ben x daughter of alice!reader

warnings: ben's deeply repressed feelings looming ominously in the distance, audrey being an absolute bitch but what's new, op fixing the lore with nail glue and packing tape, Evie is a fucking icon as always

summary: After a long day fighting your way through a mountain of paperwork, you find yourself unable to sleep. Sneaking into ben's room always does the trick. Mal can't find a love spell in her spell book, but she finds something that should work almost as well.

song recs: spring fever - sub urban

a/n: the one thing that pisses me off is that there is no canonical use of love spells in the disney universe outside of descendants. they literally don't exist. genie says no making someone fall in love with someone else. you'd think they would know their own lore /lh

anyway fangz to cici as always (i am so sorry about buggy) and also as always, an optional fit for your viewing pleasure

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

You spend the next several hours by Ben’s side as you bounce between various meetings, and of course, your etiquette lessons that you’ve been attending since you were no older than a twizzleroot blossom. They're not really etiquette lessons, not anymore. They were when you were young, you would attend a few times a week with all the other kids your age. You’d learn how to drink tea, how to write thank you notes, and all the other things you need to know to feel comfortable in royal high society settings. By the end of middle school, most of your peers were no longer in attendance.

You and Ben, however, used the opportunity to learn about more and more of the nuanced aspects of politics, social graces, and media training. Your parents were both glad for this, and since you seemed on track to be real politicians and not just socialites, it was a perfect fit. However, saying that you have to go to your class for advanced political studies, world history, social graces, and media training is a little too clunky for your taste. You and Ben never grew out of calling them etiquette lessons, so the name stuck to this day.

On this day in particular, you now find yourself sitting next to Ben at a large table in one of the many makeshift conference rooms on campus. You’ve been in and out of meetings and lessons and debriefings about the Isle kids’ arrival, and now you’ve finally made it nearly to the end of your to do list. Ben insisted you didn’t need to stay late with him to do all this paperwork, but you insisted equally as much that you wouldn’t dream of leaving him to do it all himself. Now as Ben skims the monotonous text, signing on lines and initialing boxes, you dig through a seemingly endless database of forms, trying to find the right one.

You bounce increasingly obscure form titles back and forth for a few minutes. After coming up with nothing, Ben lets out an amiable laugh. He should have expected something that seems straightforward would take at least ten times as long as it should. That’s government for you, that’s what his dad would say. A knock at the door draws both your attention, and Jane pokes her head in awkwardly. She tucks a section of her dark blunt bob behind her ear, then speaks nervously.

“Uh, hi. My mom sent me,” she says in a quiet, hesitant voice. “She said she’s going to be about half an hour late. There was a problem with some ducks in the forest, or something?”

Ben smiles at her politely.

“Thanks, Jane.” Ben says politely. Jane nods and leaves quickly, fussing with her short hair. You let out a puff of air from between your lips.

“Even more delays…” you murmur, clicking onto page 23 out of 66 of forms to look through. “How fun.”

Ben chuckles, agreeing as he stands up to stretch his legs. He walks around for a moment, and turns on an extra lamp. It’s starting to get dark out, and the last thing either of you need right now is eye strain. Wait, it’s already getting dark out? He stops in his tracks.

“Shit.” He mutters, reaching for his phone on the table. He completely forgot about dinner with Audrey, but he has to find these forms and get them filled out tonight. You try not to look like you're listening too closely as the phone rings, but Audrey’s voice is quite hard to ignore. Before he can greet her, she’s already demanding to know where he is and why he’s late.

“No, no. I- I didn’t forget. I… well… uh, no. It’s-” Ben rambles around Audrey’s interjections. He gets up, pacing around a little, and walking across the room away from you. He doesn’t want you to have to hear this.

“We’re just running behind. No- No! I would never intentionally… stand you up… I-”

“Right!” Audrey snaps on the other end, forcing a smile. “Well then. Maybe we should just cancel!”

“Wh- uh, okay. I- I’ll make it up to you. We can… uh, later this week? We’ll - before the next tourney meet? I…”

Ben sighs and pulls his phone away, looking at the screen. Call ended. He walks back over to the table, sitting down to continue trudging through the task at hand. You wordlessly slide a teacup over toward him, the colorful porcelain filled with warm chai, perfectly sweetened. He cracks a smile, and accepts the cup.

“Thanks, bunny.” He says quietly. You hum warmly in response. You settle back into your comfortable silence, trudging through forms and digging through documents. As you sit across from each other, the pile of completed paperwork steadily grows taller. Hours pass, and you don’t realize how late it is until you’re finally ready to call it quits for tonight. You stumble through your bedtime routine, grateful that you have your muscle memory to carry you through. As soon as your head hits your soft pillow… nothing happens. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable, then let out an irritated sigh. You managed to get through such a long day and mountains of paperwork, and you still can’t sleep.

In the opposite wing of the dorms, Ben has no trouble winding down. He’s cozy in his silky royal blue and daffodil yellow sheets, and he’s satisfied with a long day of hard, productive work. He lets out a soft breath, feeling himself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then he hears his door creak open. Soft, muffled footsteps creep across the wood floor, then grow silent as they meet the expansive carpet covering the majority of the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone crouching next to his bed.

“...Ben?”

He cracks a smile at the sound of your voice, how quiet and tiny you sound in the lateness of the night. You smile a little too when you see him fighting a little grin. After a moment, he answers.

“Yes bunny?”

“Are you asleep?” You ask carefully. You wait in the darkness for him to answer.

“Yes.”

You smile at his sarcastic response, letting out a little breathy giggle through your nose. You kick off your bunny slippers - complete with little tophats - and crawl into bed next to Ben. He’s already scooching over and lifting up the blankets for you, pulling them over your shoulders the way he knows you like.

He doesn’t need to ask if you couldn’t sleep, he already knows you couldn’t. You’ve been doing this, sneaking in for sleepovers when insomnia gets the best of you, for as long as he can remember. Something about his presence comforts you, relaxes you through even the longest, most never ending nights. No matter how tired he is, he’s always happy to be there for you on nights like tonight, he’s always happy to keep you warm and talk you to sleep.

And that’s just what he does. He lets you lead the conversation, rambling about whatever springs to mind, emptying out your brain so you can rest. He’d like to think he knows you pretty well by now. He knows just what to do to help you settle down, to give you the best chance of having a restful night. It’s no surprise to him that you mostly seem to be thinking about the Isle kids.

“I mean, this is real. Our actions mean they get a chance at a better life.” You mutter drowsily. Your cheek is squished against his pillow and your words are heavy with fatigue. Ben can’t help but think it makes your Wonderland accent that much… cuter.

“Yeah,” He agrees. He traces his hand along your back soothingly. He glances down and notices you’re wearing the white button down shirt you sometimes wear as a pajama top. He asked you about it once, and you said it made you think of him. He smiles a little as he settles back into his pillows.

“I just hope they’ll be able to assimilate well.” You say, a tone of worry now present in your words. “The only thing worse than doing nothing would be having their decisions made for them because of social pressure…”

“We’ll keep a close eye out for that.” Ben says. His voice is husky and drowsy. It fills you with warmth, with an appreciation for him and the way he stays up with you even though you know how tired he must be. You nod a little, then find yourself rambling again.

“I just wish there was a way to guarantee that they felt welcome and not… ostracized.” You mumble. You inch closer to him, snuggling into his warm chest and listening to his soothing heartbeat. It speeds up almost imperceptibly as you do.

“Make sure they know that we know them as people. As individuals, and not just…” You continue, cutting yourself off with a yawn. You stretch a little as you do, then curl back up. Ben looks down at you, smiling a little at how sweet you are, at how clingy you get when you’re sleepy.

“As the children of their parents…” You finish. Ben hums in agreement. He notices how heavy your eyes are getting, how your speech is slowing, how the flow of your thoughts have gone from a fully blasting garden hose to a subtly dripping kitchen sink. You’re about to fall asleep, which means he can let himself sleep too. He couldn’t have gone to bed before now if he wanted to. If he knows you can’t sleep, he won’t be able to either. But feeling your soft breaths across his skin, feeling the way your chest rises and falls as his hand lays comfortingly on your side, knowing that you’re warm and safe here, with him… Ben feels more relaxed than he has in a long time. Probably since… the last time you couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes when it’s just the two of you like this, all drowsy and late at night, in the moments before he falls asleep, Ben sometimes gets… weird thoughts. Weird, random, impulsive thoughts that are not at all like him. Totally out of left field stuff, like… wanting to kiss you. Like, really, really wanting to kiss you. Sometimes that turns into wanting to hold you, too. And not like this, not holding you platonically, like a best friend, but… holding you a different way. Maybe wanting to hold you tight in his arms, and lay you down in his big, silky bed, and…

Ben squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before relaxing his face. He puts a manual stop to that train of thought, absolutely refusing to let it continue anymore. He won’t entertain it, he won’t let it heat up his cheeks anymore. He doesn’t like thinking things like that about anyone, and he certainly won’t let himself think anything like that about you. He sighs softly. These crazy thoughts will be gone by the morning. They always are. They have to be.

Besides, it’s so late, he won’t even remember this by the time he wakes up. That’s what he always tells himself. The last thing he would never admit to anyone - not even to himself - surfaces right before he falls asleep. It must be the late hour, where everything vulnerable feels completely abstract and intangible, but he thinks it’s a lot easier to stop himself from thinking those things about Audrey than it is to stop thinking those things about you.

While you and Ben drift off to sleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms, someone else is wide awake. Sitting in the dorm she shares with Evie, Mal sits on her bed, scouring her spell book exactly like she’s been doing since Ben left earlier that afternoon. After hours of hitting brick wall after brick wall, Mal is met with the back cover of the book. Again. She lets out a frustrated noise, and flips back to the beginning.

“There’s not a single love spell in this whole fucking book!” She exclaims. She looks over the first few pages, reading them more closely in hopes that she somehow missed something. Evie sits across the room in front of a lit up mirror, plucking meticulously at her eyebrows.

“Are we…” She winces, then inspects her skin and eyebrows again. “Are we sure we need a love spell?”

Mal rolls her eyes at the question. Yes, obviously they need a love spell. Evie is oblivious to her irritation, and continues thinking out loud around her careful use of the sharp tweezers in her hand.

“I could… just work my charm on him. All it would take is one look into my…” Another wince. “Hypnotizing eyes, and he’d be wrapped around my finger.”

She leans back, taking a final look at her work, more satisfied with her appearance now.

“I mean, he’s not really my type, but…” she shrugs, and looks at Mal, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Mal doesn’t look up at Evie’s eyebrows, she just keeps digging through her book and ignoring the sound of Carlos and Jay playing videogames.

“No, we need a spell. This has to work. It has to be foolproof.”

Evie grabs a jade roller and some hydrating gel. She still can’t believe how amazing the makeup and the skincare in Auradon is. She hasn’t seen one half wilted aloe plant, and this gel is infused with roses from Aurora’s moors, glacier water from Arendelle, and caviar fished from the Caribbean. She can’t wait to get her hands on a decent blush, and a lip liner that doesn’t double as eyeliner and an eyebrow pencil.

Evie notices the scowl on Mal’s face as she hunches over the spell book. Normally she would scold Mal for making faces that will give her wrinkles, but now that she has her hands on retinol, hyaluronic acid, and hydrocolloid patches, she can fix any stress wrinkles Mal brings upon herself. After what feels like an eternity of searching the same pages over and over, something catches Mal’s eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. It’s more of her mothers rambling annotations and scrawled notes, this time on the topic of hypnosis.

Hypnosis can be useful as long as you’re stealthy with it. Jafar got sloppy, he kept hypnotizing that stupid sultan over and over, not bothering to use hypnosis for it’s true purpose - a means to an end. If you’re an evil genius like I am, and you use hypnosis sparingly, no one will be the wiser. Don’t get me started on that oversized calamari - Ursula has to be the best example of what not to do when you’re hypnotizing a bonehead prince to make him think he’s in love with you. Something as easily breakable as a necklace? Please. Besides, everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

Her mother’s scratchy handwriting goes on for a while, some anecdote about her and Mal’s father, something she’d rather not read. Ever. She thinks back to what Evie said about wrapping Ben around her finger, and in one desperately needed moment of clarity, everything falls into place. A plan begins to form in her mind.

“This… this could work.” She says. Those three, quietly spoken words get the attention of everyone in the room. Evie sets down her gua sha stone, and Carlos pauses their videogame. They all walk over, hesitant and eager to hear what Mal figured out. Mal lets out a laugh of disbelief. It seems so simple now, she wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner. She can just hypnotize Ben into falling in love with her. She can trick him into thinking that he loves Mal more than he’s ever loved Audrey, then - boom! Front row seats to coronation, which means front row seats to stealing the wand out from under their noses.

While Mal silently hashes out the details so she can tell her friends, Evie inspects her cuticles. She really should push them back. She stands up, grabbing a cuticle pusher and an orange wood stick from her pencil cup before making her way back over to Mal’s bed. As the three of them wait with bated breath, Mal looks over the hypnosis spell again and again. After a few moments, she tucks a piece of paper between the pages, marking her spell to reference later. She slams the book shut, and looks up at her friends.

“Come on guys. Let’s go bake some cookies.”

#curiosity is a wonderful thing #ben florian #ben florian x reader #descendants #descendants x reader #liddell!reader

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

Text

a/n: after the gauntlet that was the honeymoon fic, i’m back with something shorter and sweet. i’m obsessed with girl dad drei, so that’s actually getting a bit of a focus the next few fics 🥰 again, posting this before i’m off to the isles/tampon bay (not a typo, i’m just a petty, grudge-holding long island gal) game, so give me a little positive energy in the tags!

word count: 3.4k

tw: nothing, just the standard google russian 🥲

summary: mother’s day in the svechnikov home

It’s too early for there to be so much noise in the house, you think briefly and through a haze of exhaustion. You roll onto your side, blinking, and Andrei nudges you and murmurs, “go back to sleep, I got it.”

The mattress dips and shifts as he climbs out of bed, stretching a little before he drops a kiss to the top of your head and pads from the room. You press your face back into your pillow and are nearly back to sleep when Andrei returns, the warm, solid weight of nine-month-old Dimitri placed against your side. Instinctively, you curl your arms around your son and tug the sheet up over his little legs. He quiets almost immediately, stretching his arms and legs out in the starfish position that’s a favorite of all the Svechnikov children, no matter how old they are.

“He should sleep a little longer,” Andrei whispers, running one large hand over the baby’s hair.

“Come back to bed,” you sigh, eyes shut and Dimitri’s little fist held in one of your hands. He smells like baby lotion and milk and it’s one of your favorite scents in the world. There’s a banging sound from downstairs and you wince.

Andrei chuckles a little. “Sleep, I’m going to go see what that is,” he strokes the back of his index finger over your cheek and you’re out before he even leaves the room again.

On his way downstairs, Andrei pokes his head into each girl’s room and once he sees that Alina isn’t in her bed, he has a pretty good idea of what the noise is and what he’s going to find in the kitchen.

Sure enough, there’s your second oldest daughter, pots and pans pulled out from the lower cabinets and a small pile of flour on the floor. Andrei clears his throat and Alina looks up, her hands still in the lower pantry cabinet. She grins at him innocently. “Oh, hiiii daddy,” she singsongs.

“Oh, hiiii Alya,” Andrei mimicks her tone, pressing his lips together so he won’t laugh. “What are you doing?”

The five (and a half! “Don’t forget the half, Daddy!”) year old slowly brings her hands back to her side and looks up at Andrei with his own brown eyes deployed to maximum adorable. “Makin’ breakfast for Mama,” she replies sweetly, with a faint undercurrent of ‘duh, isn’t it obvious?’.

He comes further into the kitchen and leans his forearms against the counter of the island, raising an eyebrow at Alina. She shuffles her feet and twists her fingers in the hem of her Disney Princess pajama tap. “Are you supposed to be trying to cook without me or Mama?” He smiles, just a bit, so she knows she’s not really in trouble. Andrei’s always been a soft-touch when it comes to disciplining the girls.

“No,” she sighs, “but I was gonna get you ‘cause I’m not even tall enough to get a plate out of the cabinet.”

Andrei doesn’t believe her for a second - Alina is nothing if not independent and resourceful. He’s pretty sure she would’ve just found something flat to use as a plate in a cabinet she could reach and call it a day. He starts picking up some of the pots and pans and says, “how about we work together to make Mama syrniki for breakfast in bed?”

“Ooh, yes!” Alina hops around in excitement, bouncing over to tug at Andrei’s shirt. “With bacon and s’berries?”

“Yes, with bacon and strawberries,” Andrei confirms on a laugh. “Do you want to see if Evie wants to help?” He pulls the child-sized stool from the corner and sets it against the island so Alina will be able to see and help.

She scrambles to climb onto the stool and shakes her head. “No! She’s too bossy and I just wanna be with you, Daddy,” she says firmly, pushing messy hair out of her eyes with the backs of her hands. Andrei chuckles and gathers her hair into a little pineapple of a bun on top of her head, securing it with one of the black hair ties he’s gotten used to wearing around his wrist. Between you and three daughters, odds are good that someone will have a hair related emergency around Andrei. Alina beams up at him, “thank you, Daddy! Now I can see.”

“Now you can see,” Andrei laughs. He gathers the ingredients for syrniki - farmer’s cheese, eggs, flour, sugar, and salt - and lines them up on the counter in front of Alina. She taps each ingredient and counts out loud, pleased to show off her skills.

“One, two, three, four, five,” she looks up at Andrei for approval and he nods, smiling.

“Try in Russian,” he says, switching languages so Alina can practice. The girls are mostly fluent, since Andrei, his parents, and Geno all practice with them. “Tell me what each ingredient is.”

Alina squints a little before counting off to five in Russian. She manages to tell Andrei the word for each ingredient in Russian, but gets tripped up by farmer’s cheese.

“Good job, Alya,” Andrei kisses the crown of her head. “Say it after me: fermerskiy syr.”

“Fermerskiy syr,” Alina repeats, mangling the new world a little, but Andrei still praises her attempt. “Can we start now, Daddy?” She’s clearly impatient with the Russian lesson.

He sets the measuring cups and a large metal bowl on the counter and nods, “we can start now, Alya.”

Alina grins and digs into the process, pouring ingredients as Andrei instructs her. She dumps flour in the bowl, getting half of it on the counter and her shirt. “Oops,” she looks up at Andrei with wide, worried eyes.

He brushes the flour from her shirt and then “accidentally” spills some on his own shirt. “Oops!” He mimics her, eliciting sweet, childish giggles. He brushes more flour from her face and she wrinkles her nose at him.

The eggs get cracked into the mix and Andrei picks out a few stray pieces of shell, carrying Alina to the sink and holding her by the waist so she can wash her hands. “Raw eggs can make your tummy hurt,” he explains while she soaps up, “if you eat them, even by accident, so you always have to wash your hands.”

“I know, Daddy,” she sighs, clapping her hands together and getting soap bubbles flying in the air. “Mama telled us that when me an’ Evie wanted cookie dough.”

“Mama’s always right,” Andrei teases and when Alina’s done with her hands, he sets her back on the stool so she can mix the dough. He leans against the counter and watches for the most part, since Alina’s perfectly capable of mixing on her own. She starts telling him a rambling story about magical fairies that he’s pretty sure she’s making up on the spot and his chest fills with love for his girl. The hardest part about hockey is how much time he spends on the road. FaceTiming with you and the kids only goes so far. So he’s grateful that Mother’s Day this year fell on the Sunday between Games One and Two with a Canes’ home ice advantage. If he had to be traveling today, he doesn’t think he’d forgive himself.

“Daddy, are you listening?” Alina huffs, frowning at him and looking remarkably like you. He laughs and smooths his thumb over her eyebrows, erasing the frown.

“Yes, Alya, I’m listening,” he says patiently, hoping she doesn’t ask him to repeat the entire story. Alina opens her mouth, but it’s Evie’s voice that cuts in, “Dad? What are you doing?”

Andrei looks over to the stairs where Evie’s rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm, hair falling messily out of pigtailed braids, and a confused look on her face. Alina grins at her big sister and explains, “we’re makin’ syrniki for Mama.”

“Oh!” Evie’s face brightens and she looks wide awake now. “Can I help?”

“We finished the batter,” Andrei explains, pulling the bowl away from Alina. “And remember that the next step is to fry them in hot oil, so…”

“Only Mom and Dad fry things,” Evie parrots the refrain you and Andrei had drilled into their heads from the time they started showing an interest in helping in the kitchen.

“Exactly,” Andrei points the spoon in his hand at her. “How about you two put foil on the tray and lay out the bacon? Maybe wash the berries?”

Evie nods and dances to the fridge, pulling out the bacon package and going about her tasks with the confidence only a second grader can muster. She bosses Alina around and Andrei has to step in once or twice when Alina gets annoyed at being bossed around. But for the most part, they work well together as he fries the little cakes in oil and sets them on a paper towel covered plate. He loves seeing their relationship blossom and the way Alina follows Evie around like a little duckling always makes him think of himself and Geno. Evie sighs and shows Alina how to wash the strawberries and Andrei’s throat clogs a little with emotion.

When the syrniki are done and the stovetop is turned off, Andrei claps his hands together and the girls look over at him. “We’re almost ready to surprise Mama,” he grins at their enthusiastic cheering. If you’re not awake yet, you will be soon. “Alya, why don’t you go wake up Kira so she can join us. Evie, can you go down into the basement, behind the toolbox, there’s a big bag with Mama’s gifts from you girls.”

Alina squints at him as Evie darts off to the basement. Andrei squats down to Alina’s eye level and asks, “what’s going on, Alya?”

“What are you gonna be doing?” She cocks her hip, planting her hand firmly on it. With her sagging little bun and strawberry stained pajama top, she looks like a harried mother of a dozen toddlers and Andrei resists the urge to laugh.

“I’m going to get breakfast ready on a tray for Mama,” he explains. “So we can bring it to her in bed.”

Alina nods, clearly happy with his answer. “Okay,” she pats his cheek and skips off, calling behind her, “don’t forget the sour cream!”

Twenty minutes later, Andrei has breakfast plated and on the tray, Evie is holding the shopping bag, and Alina’s back with Kira, having held the three-year-old’s hand while they both slid down the stairs on their butts, the way Evie had taught them. Andrei ushers the girls back up the stairs, all of them moving extremely slowly behind Kira. He probably should have thought this out better, but too late for that now. “Okay,” he whispers outside of the master bedroom door, “we have to go in quietly just in case Mama and Dimka are still sleeping.”

Kira and Alina burst through the door, smacking it against the opposite wall, and Andrei winces. But you and Dimitri are already awake and you gasp in faux-surprise, since your daughters aren’t exactly the quietest humans. Carefully moving Dimitri off of your breast and adjusting your sweater, you grin, “oh my gosh! My favorite girls!”

“S’pise, Mama! S’pise!” Kira screams, grinning and climbing up on the bed.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” Evie says, practically tossing the shopping bag on the bed. Alina crawls into your lap, cooing over Dimitri before planting a smacking kiss on your cheek.

You kiss her back, squishing her cheeks between your thumb and index finger. She wiggles away and nearly kicks at the tray Andrei’s resting on the foot of the bed. “Oh, look, Mama! Daddy and I maded syrniki,” she crows, bouncing to her knees and pointing at the tray. Kira’s already reaching for a strawberry and Evie steals a piece of bacon.

Andrei grins at you, “better get some food before the little myshki nibble it all up.” He leans over to kiss you briefly.

“This looks delicious,” you say, shifting Dimitri in your arms. He squawks in annoyance when Kira rolls over and jostles him. She makes a kissy face at him and just as quickly, he’s giggling. You settle him on the mattress and he grabs for Kira with chubby hands. “Thank you,” you murmur, accepting the mug of coffee Andrei hands you, while lifting and curling your leg so Dimitri is in the reasonably safe position of being enclosed by your leg if he decides to move around. “You guys did such an amazing job.”

“I spilled flour but we cleaned it up,” Alina informs you through a mouthful of sour cream and syrniki. Andrei holds a hand under her chin to catch the falling crumbs.

“That must be my present then,” you deadpan, reaching out to get a forkful of your breakfast. “Oh wow,” you murmur around the mouthful, “that’s really good, Drei.”

He ruffles Alina’s bangs, “all thanks to my sous chef.”

While the kids nibble at breakfast, Evie pushes your presents into your lap. “You have to open the gifts, Mom! Wait until you see what we got you.”

It always makes your heart twinge when Evie calls you ‘mom’, missing the days when your oldest baby called you ‘mama.’ Andrei had nearly cried the first time she called him ‘dad’ instead of ‘papa.’ It’s probably how you ended up with four kids. The second one switches to ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, you need to have another.

Holding a piece of strawberry in front of Dimitri’s face for him to gnaw on, you unwrap your gifts with the other hand. Andrei’s finally sitting on the edge of the bed now, a mug of his own coffee in reach, but Alina’s draped over his lap, eating a piece of bacon and Kira’s standing on the mattress, holding his shoulders, with Andrei’s arm wrapped securely around her legs. Evie’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress, making faces at Dimitri so he’ll laugh and eating syrniki. There are so many crumbs on the bed.

You open the cards, not exaggerating when you exclaim over the handmade cards from the older two girls, stick figure drawings of you front and center on the covers. Kira and Dimitri contributed scribbles on another card, with their names printed underneath in Andrei’s chicken-scratch. His card - a Hallmark special - makes you cry with its inscription talking about how much you do for the family and how you’re the rock and the glue that keeps everyone together and how much Andrei loves you.

You look up and catch his eye, giving him a wobbly-chinned smile. He mouths ‘I love you’ and pops the dimple.

The pile of gifts include a glitter and paint covered picture frame from Evie complete with a photo of the two of you on the beach from last summer, Alina drapes a macaroni necklace over your head and you’re honestly surprised that this is still a thing kids are making in school but you love it nonetheless, there’s a new Stanley mug in Canes’ red to replace the one Andrei accidentally ran over with his car, a vintage Fleetwood Mac Rumours shirt you’ve been eyeing on eBay, and last but not least, a small black jewelry box that Andrei passes to Evie to give to you.

“Drei,” you murmur, “I really didn’t need anything.”

“I know,” he shrugs one shoulder, trying not to wince as Kira pulls at his hair. “I like spoiling you.”

“Open it, mama!” Alina sighs dramatically and Andrei tickles her, getting her shrieking with laughter and begging him to stop. The other three kids get in on it, laughing and making general noises of insanity. You sit back and watch them for a minute, stroking Dimitri’s soft baby hair and feeling so much love for these crazy people that are all yours.

“Okay, okay,” you call over the noise, “I’m opening my present from Daddy.” You pop the top on the velvet box and gasp a little when you see the necklace. It’s a thin gold chain with five horizontal letters on it. Two As, an E, a K, and a D. The little letters are studded with tiny diamonds and they glitter prettily in the light.

The girls crowd you and ooh and ah over the necklace. “It’s so pretty, Mom,” Evie gently traces one of the letters.

“It’s sparkly,” Alina says, a glint in her eyes. “I like sparkles.”

“Those are Mama’s sparkles, little magpie,” Andrei warns teasingly. He looks up at you, smiling shyly. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you reply, pulling the necklace from the box and dodging small, grabby hands to clasp it around your neck. It’s a shorter chain, so it hugs close to your neck resting at your collarbone. It layers perfectly with the cross you’ve worn every day since Andrei gifted it to you during your honeymoon in Greece. You run your fingers over both pieces, a soft smile playing at your lips. “This is the best Mother’s Day ever, all thanks to my favorite people.” You pull the girls close to you and kiss their cheeks and heads, making dramatic kissing noises so they’ll laugh. Eventually, after they’ve eaten all of your breakfast, they get bored of being in the bed and Alina and Evie roll off the mattress, heading for their rooms, knowing that lunch with the four grandparents is on the schedule for the day.

You’re left alone with Andrei and the two babies. They’re swapped now, Dimitri in Andrei’s lap and chewing on a chubby fist and Kira in your lap, playing with your necklaces. She looks tired and your smooth her hair back from her face while you snuggle her close. “This was so sweet, Drei,” you sigh. “I know you’re thinking about playoffs, but I appreciate everything you did this morning.”

“Solnyshka,” Andrei leans forward, mindful of Dimitri, and cradles your face in his hand. You lean into his touch and his thumb caresses your cheekbone. “You and the kids are the most important thing. I don’t get to play hockey without you here taking care of everything. Breakfast in bed and a few gifts are the least I can do.”

Feeling emotional, you angle your head and kiss the inside of his wrist. “Still. Thank you, my love.”

Andrei’s eyes twinkle and he tilts his chin to the breakfast tray. “I think you missed a gift,” he says and you reach over, pulling a little envelope out from underneath the empty plate.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, you murmur, “what do you have up your sleeve, Mister Svechnikov?” and open the envelope and withdraw a ticket confirmation page. There are little doodles - a sun, a palm tree, beach chairs, two stick figures in a compromising position - around the words and you finally focus on the location. Bora Bora. “What’s this?”

“This year’s vacation,” Andrei grins. “Just us. The parents, all four of them, have agreed to babysit for a week while we soak up some sun in a hut on the water.”

You shake your head at him, in disbelief. “How are you this amazing? How did I get so lucky?” You grin down at Kira. “Your Daddy is my favorite person in the whole world.”

“Me too!” Kira exclaims, lunging for Andrei’s lap. He catches her and laughs, kissing her cheek. She pats his face and frowns at the stubble.

“You deserve it and more, moya koroleva,” Andrei says. His tongue darts out and wets his lower lip. “More will have to wait though,” he bounces the kids on his lap. “When we have a less impressionable audience. For now…” he grabs your ankle and slides your across the sheets, slanting his lips over yours and biting at your lower lip gently. His tongue sweeps inside your mouth, the promise of more rushing through your veins.

And then Dimitri shrieks because Kira’s poked him in the eye and more is absolutely not happening. Andrei swoops Dimitri into his arms and gets off the bed, heading down the hall, and you lift Kira onto your hip and bring her to her own room to get ready. Evie’s singing along to the Alexa in her room and you can hear Alina telling herself a story. The noise echoes around the hallway, delightful chaos.

“Happy Mother’s Day, solnyshka,” Andrei winks at you. You grin back, loving every second.

#andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov

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dragoneyes618 · 9 months

Text

More details about how the Isle kids cannot process or interpret emotions....

@tiredflowercrown tagged:

@shellyseashell tagged:

Yes to all of these.

Ginny doesn't even know what she's feeling.

Mal was raised to be a perfect copy of her mother. But she doesn't want to be her mother, she hates her mother, but she doesn't know what else she is besides a mini-Maleficent, so she hates herself too. Anything that's close to her, she pushes away, rejects, makes them as unlike her as possible. She did it with Maddy. She did it with Uma. She would have done it with Evie, eventually, if they hadn't gone to Auradon.

The only way Jay ever earned his father's approval was through stealing. Even years later, he'll habitually steal little trinkets to gift to Lonnie without even noticing.

Evie doesn't know how to have any relationship with anyone that isn't seducing a prince.

Sammy Smee was raised in an violent environment full of anger and shouting. Even once he was on Harriet's ship, well, Harriet also gets angry, and also shouts, because she was raised in that same environment. Sammy can't understand anything that isn't like that.

Freddie and Celia don't trust anything that's for free. Everything has to be for something. Everything is in exchange for something. No one is simply "friends" with anyone, they have to be getting something out of it. It's only a matter of figuring out what, and making sure you won't be left at a disadvantage. (And it can be inferred that Freddie and Celia had one of the better childhoods on the Isle, so if this is their view on relationships, imagine everyone else's!)

Squeaky and Squirmy trust Sammy to be their provider, their teacher, their caregiver, and no one else. They don't know how to relate to anyone who isn't him. They just sort of shut down. Not with their father, who loved them but never tried to protect them, not like Sammy did. At least Sammy tried. Not with the Hook siblings, who were always getting involved in various dangerous shenanigans and who scare them, just the tiniest bit, even though they also help them and take care of them. No one but Sammy.

Dizzy....Dizzy has two examples: Anthony and Lady Tremaine. (Her mother never even pretended to love her. Her aunt was too beaten down to show it.) Anthony loves her, and everyone knows this. But Anthony was raised to be a lord on an Isle full of the dregs of society, an Isle where everyone ridicules those with pretenses to greatness. Yet his grandmother insisted, and he doesn't know how to show anything but his facade. He tells Dizzy he loves her, and he does, but he speaks coldly, strictly, harshly. He rarely, if ever, shows anger. No outbursts of emotion; hardly any emotion at all. No raising his voice. No playing games, no hugs, none of the things Dizzy would like to do. And Lady Tremaine....she really barely feels any emotion at all, not anymore. Of course she loves Dizzy, she says. She's her grandmother. What kind of grandmother wouldn't love her granddaughter? If only Dizzy would do her chores quicker, better, quieter. If only she would behave well. Then she would surely show Dizzy that she loved her, more than just saying "Of course I love you Dizzy" without even a smile and sending her off to the salon. Or so Dizzy believes, anyway. Anthony has inherited far more of his behavior and mannerisms from his grandmother than he would like to believe.

And Claudine. You see, Frollo usually does not lose his temper. He rarely shouts or rages. He prides himself on keeping perfect control on his emotions. And so Claudine doesn't associate loud noises or shouting with his anger. No, she associates frighteningly calm voices, in an even tone, with no expression, excoriating her with the harshest of words. And of course she thinks she should be hurt. Anyone who cares about her would hurt her as a punishment, so she should learn to do better. She doesn't like it, of course, but it's what has to be done, right? Right?

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