#not amazingly well mind you

[skyward-floored]

Leaves

Another Incredibles au fic... sort of a little character study? I suppose it could be that. I just started writing the other day and this came out, so it’s not much, but I figured it would be a shame not to post it. Maybe someone will like it.

Set when Sky and Warriors are preteens, and Time is a fairly-young adult. Little warning for implied past character death.

————————————————————

Warriors walked slowly along the path he was following, his scarf trailing behind him as late afternoon light filtered past. It had been a bit of a detour to head here instead of straight home after school, and his legs were growing tired, but he’d been needing to come here for weeks, and finally had the time to today.

Warriors didn’t stop until the path curved, and he found himself at a tree with fan-shaped leaves that had begun to spread themselves across the ground.

There was a stone beneath it’s branches, and Warriors knelt beside it, gently brushing off the yellow leaves that had fallen on top. His hands brushed the letters carved into the stone, and he leaned back, smiling a little.

“Hey, Mom.”

A few moments of silence ticked by, and his smile faded, Warriors folding his hands in his lap as he exhaled.

“Um... I know I haven’t visited in a while, I’m sorry. Things have been kind of crazy lately. Time got in some trouble, and it was... a lot of stuff happened.”

He cleared his throat, and adjusted his scarf, shaking off the little flakes of ice that had begun to form on his fingers.

“We’re all doing okay now, though,” he continued, watching a leaf fall. “Time’s still kinda worried about me and Sky, even though we keep telling him we’re fine. He’s been sort of... clingy. But even though he’s been clingy, we finally convinced him to let us go out with him, so that’s been pretty great. We’ve already stopped some villains.

“Um... oh right, he hasn’t yet, but Time is totally going to propose soon. When he isn’t worrying over me and Sky, he’s acting almost giddy, it’s been so weird. He’s been so weird lately.”

Warriors huffed out a little laugh, then looked at the stone again, his smile slipping away.

“He really loves Malon. And I think you’d love her too Mom. I... wish you could meet her. We all do.”

He breathed out slowly, scratching his arm.

“I guess that’s pretty much it. I’m doing fine, in case you were wondering. Mostly just training with my powers. I figured out I can do really sharp icicle things if I focus really hard, so I’ve been trying to get better at that. I’ve also been working on making little stuff out of ice, but that’s not super useful...”

Warriors trailed off as a few leaves fluttered down around him, a weight much heavier than leaves weighing on his chest.

He closed his eyes.

“I miss you Mom. I... hope you’re proud of me. I’m trying.”

A leaf landed on Warriors’ head then, and he picked it up, running a thumb along it’s veins.

After a moment he raised his head, and let go of the leaf, conjuring some ice in his hands. He focused for several minutes, tongue slightly sticking out as he molded the ice in his hold, and slowly a flower appeared in his hands, made of pure ice. It was a little crude, and lacked the detail that Warriors would have preferred, but it would have to be good enough.

“I’ll come visit again soon,” he promised quietly, setting the flower at the base of the stone. “I have to go now though, or Time and Sky’ll worry. Even though I’ll be fine, and have powers to defend me, but you know. Time especially doesn’t need more stress.”

Warriors leaned back as a gust of wind blew some leaves past the stone in front of him, and he gently thumbed over the words again.

Then he breathed out, and got to his feet, noting that the late afternoon had trickled into evening while he’d been sitting. The leaves of the tree looked more orange now then yellow, and he tucked one in his pocket as it drifted by.

“I love you Mom. I’ll see you later.”

Warriors looked at the stone one more time, then gave a tiny smile, turning away and walking back down the path he’d come up.

A thin dusting of frost trailed behind him on the grass.

#Incredibles au #linkeduniverse #linked universe fanfic #lu warriors #past character death #Incredibles au fic #writing from the floor #this was the sort of melancholy thing I was talking about this morning #warriors knew his and Time’s mom much better then time did #not amazingly well mind you #but better then time who actually knew her for maybe ten minutes #anyway Warriors likes to visit and talk about what’s going on #he gets better at ice flowers when he’s older too #also random but the tree is a ginkgo #because they’re one of my favorite trees

[transhawks]

this fandom doesn't get dabi tbh. Like outside of the aesthetic, if given half the chance, he would have become a workaholic to rival his dad. Like he'd complain about it more than Enji tho, but he'd still be out there working his ass off.

#looking back at all the shit touya was masterminding.... #we thought he was being lazy everytime he disappeared from lov scenes but no he was in his own spy manga #creating epic revenge plots #dabi #the man is EXTREMELY DILIGENT #like incredibly so #he makes mistakes mind you #keigo was a huge mistake #and by keigo i mean realizing the HSPC has trained assassins to pose as heroes and maybe trying to bait one wasn't the best idea #BUT Dabi really thinks well on his feet #amazingly so #getting twice's blood in a pinch #figuring out shouto's phosphorus etc #he's a hard worker because he's always had to be.

[pastafossa]

Hi honey! How are you? How’s your mom doing? I hope she’s better now🥺💚

I’ve recently decided to learn how to book bind bc it’s a must to have my fav fanfics as actual books. I’m still learning and it’s probably gonna take a while before I get the results I want but I wanted to ask you if it was okay with you to book bind The Red Thread? Obviously it would be just for me, I would not sell it or make any profits. (And if it turns out how I want to, I would love to gift you one👀)

It’s one of my favourite fanfics of all time, like it’s a masterpiece and I would love to have a physical copy of it<3

And I know it’s not finished yet but it’d probably have to be a few volumes anyways bc it’s a lot so😅

She's doing ok! Progress is slow but it's definitely happening! She's graduated from at-home physical therapy to outpatient, which is a HUGE thing. We've gotten the house pretty well set up too now (chair lift for a section of stairs not covered before, new railing on the front steps), and between me, dad, and sis's various sleep schedules, we're all able to make sure she has someone nearby when she needs help getting around or opening things. I'm still in caretaker mode and trying to balance everything, but she's getting there, so I hold onto that! As for me, I'm doing... ok I think, considering how exhausting and brutal the past few months have been. I'm taking @shouldbestudying41 's advice and just trying to be kind to myself, and I'll admit my brain seriously needed the break. I continue to miss Cato something awful, but I've felt a little more settled since his ashes came home, and I think I'm starting to adjust to sleeping without him next to my pillow. I also got my follow-up today with my cardiologist on my heart issues and their answer was basically a shrug and a, 'we have no idea why your heart's doing this, but it's getting better every time we test you, so keep doing what you're doing!' Which could be worse. So... I'm getting there. Slow and steady!

And oh my gosh, you absolutely, ABSOLUTELY can bookbind TRT, thank you! 😭The idea anyone would love it enough to bookbind makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY! Hell, if I could sell copies at cost I would, but sadly that's a huge no no and all I can do legally is tell people, YES you can bookbind TRT for your shelf! I'm 100% supportive basically (also I would D I E if I got one, like no pressure at all cause D A Y U M it's a long thing to bind, and also just knowing it's out there on someone's shelf is more than I ever expected would happen so I'm delighted even if you just bind for you!).

TRT volumes one to ten maybe??? LOL. I know I had it planned as a series originally before I decided to just kinda keep it in one thing since we were all already there LOL.

#the red thread #pasta life update #basically mom is doing really well recoverywise! and i'm getting there #the witchy shop has been amazingly supportive and i have people here who've been helping talk me through it along with fam #and the kitties have all been very good cuddlers to me while feeling down about cato #so that's been nice! #and OF COURSE YOU CAN BOOKBIND I LOVE THE IDEA OF BOOKBINDING #i know i've said this before but i never really thought TRT would take off so the idea of ANYONE wanting to bind it is HUGE to me #i always intended it to be a series too and then i just wound up keeping it all in one spot #because... i can't remember #i think i was just feeling lazy when we hit the 'final' chapter of book one and went 'ya'll mind if i keep it all here' #and got a resounding YES THAT'S FINE WE WANT MOAR #and so off we went LOL

[icewindandboringhorror]

I think the hardest thing in writing for me sometimes is the like “show don’t tell/let people communicate through subtext/Normal People don’t just walk around openly explaining their motivations for everything That’s Unnatural” thing because like.. I literally DO walk around openly explaining my motivations for everything, that is how I talk, I am an analytical detail oriented over-communicator who explains everything as thoroughly as possible and and will give a fully detailed 2 minute long answer to something simple like “how are you doing today?” .. like it’s hard to make things sound Natural and Normal when you yourself are inherently unnatural and abnormal in your methods of communication to an extent lol

#''hey. whats up? you look kind of sad.. is something wrong?'' normal answer (apparently how people are supposed to talk): *looks away #remosefully and stares into the distance* ''n-no.. I'm fine. don't worry about it.'' abnormal answer (how I would respond): ''Yeah I #'m mostly fine. I was just thinking about what the future is going to be like 30 years from now and if I'll ever actually accomplish anythin #g that I want to. which makes me feel X way for XYZ reason. you see because I had a dream last night that made me think of *continues to exp #lain my exact emotional state and inner thought process completely matter of factly in exact detail for 5 more minutes* #tfw you would be a badly written character if you existed in a story lol #This is also why I struggle making conflict because most conflicts can be resolved through conversation and I personally love to have long #detailed conversations about everything. Like literally I don't have hardly any conflicts interpersonally because if something happens it's #immediately followed up with like ''hey sorry if my tone of voice sounded a bit pointed or harsh. when you were talking to me I was trying #to balance all the stuff I was taking up the stairs and also my leg hurts so I think all my mental energy was being used there and I just #didn't feel like talking. I should have just said 'wait a minute and we can discuss it inside' instead of trying to end the conversation qui #ckly in a short rude way.' ''oh yeah thats fine. I thought it was something like that. sorry for hounding you about the topic as well. i #havent eaten in a while so I think I'm just a bit prickly at the moment. we should both rest for a while and destress from the store #trip and then talk about it later. maybe after lunch?' 'sure. sounds good.' like LITERALLY. lol #it is so hard for me to write characters who are bad communicators or don't understand their own internal states or arent constantly #analyzing their own actions to understand what they do/don't feel and why and what the cause of it is and etc. etc. etc. #I just naturally want everyone to perfectly undertsand everything and communicate amazingly and have complete self awareness and #logical presence of mind gjhbj.. which like.. of course comes across as unnatyural and also those type of people rarely ever get involved in #conflict and conflict is APPARENTLY what drives stories (even though I don't like most conflicts and just want to resolve them lol) so ...aa #I mean you can get around this to some degree by the fact that (at least in my opinion) no rule for dialogue is 100%. dialogue is good if it #sounds naturally like it comes from the character who said it. It can be meandering and pointless and rambly IF that matches the character. #it can be dry and overly self aware IF your character is that way and it suits them. So like throwing in a few detached scholar types or lik #e '5000 year old cave dwelling hermit' type people is good for me and works BUT the thing is an ENTIRE cast of characters can't be that way. #at some point - even in a setting where everyone is reserved and academic (like a research camp in the wilderness full of scholars and stuff #) still SOMEBODY has to be the one who's conflict prone and doesn't pristinely understand all of their emotions and etc. etc. Because statis #tically that is still literally the majority. Kind of like my tendency to make everyone 100% aromantic and asexul when it's like.. YES.. may #be 2 or 3 or even 4 out of 10 of them could be that way. but like.. an entire group? a diverse group of 10 people from all walks of life and #EVERY single one is like that??? hgjh . you have to add realistic variety #As much as I'm pro 'have more stories where sex or romance are literally NOT involved at all in any capacity since it's already oversaturate #d in media' I'm also dedicated to realism. alas. (at least as realistic as you can get in a fantasy setting lol)

[crymeariveronceagain]

I did warn you. I just didn't know the specifics.

I know. But that's the thing neither of us have wanted to admit. If you can't give specifics, everything you're doing is worthless.

The words hit him harder than she'd expected. But she wasn't taking them back.

--- Lodestar, by Shannon Messenger, page 504

#giiiiiiirl #kotlc #kotlc keefe #keefe sencen #kotlc sophie #sophie foster #sokeefe #kotlc quotes #river re-reads kotlc #ok so i have THINGS #TO SAY #first of all OF COURSE THIS HIT HIM HARD SOPHIE #THIS IS PAGE 504 YOU KNOW THE DEEP RECESSES OF HIS MIND YOU KNOW HOW HE THINKS HE'S WORTHLESS #this isn't HELPING #this is making him MORE desperate and more likely to take huge risks #ugh look this was a good plan it was just gonna take time #any good plan takes time #you're emotional and upset but like #i understand #you need to calm down and take a step back and see that this is a genius idea and that keefe is doing amazingly well #he just needs to get to the next level of clearance #okay? #ugh sophie think about the big picture PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLYYYY

[grasshoppergeography]

Hey All,

I've been away for some time, as we've been working really hard on something quite exciting:

let me present to you the world's first ever global ocean drainage basin map that shows all permanent and temporary water flows on the planet.

This is quite big news, as far as I know this has never been done before. There are hundreds of hours of work in it (with the data + manual work as well) and it's quite a relief that they are all finished now.

But what is an ocean drainage basin map, I hear most of you asking? A couple of years ago I tried to find a map that shows which ocean does each of the world's rivers end up in. I was a bit surprised to see there is no map like that, so I just decided I'll make it myself - as usual :) Well, after realizing all the technical difficulties, I wasn't so surprised any more that it didn't exist. So yeah, it was quite a challenge but I am very happy with the result.

In addition to the global map I've created a set of 43 maps for different countries, states and continents, four versions for each: maps with white and black background, and a version for both with coloured oceans (aka polygons). Here's the global map with polygons:

I know from experience that maps can be great conversation starters, and I aim to make maps that are visually striking and can effectively deliver a message. With these ocean drainage basin maps the most important part was to make them easily understandable, so after you have seen one, the others all become effortless to interpret as well. Let me know how I did, I really appreciate any and all kinds of feedback.

Here are a few more from the set, I hope you too learn something new from them. I certainly did, and I am a geographer.

The greatest surprise with Europe is that its biggest river is all grey, as the Volga flows into the Caspian sea, therefore its basin counts as endorheic.

An endorheic basin is one which never reaches the ocean, mostly because it dries out in desert areas or ends up in lakes with no outflow. The biggest endorheic basin is the Caspian’s, but the area of the Great Basin in the US is also a good example of endorheic basins.

I love how the green of the Atlantic Ocean tangles together in the middle.

No, the dividing line is not at Cape Town, unfortunately.

I know these two colours weren’t the best choice for colourblind people and I sincerely apologize for that. I’ve been planning to make colourblind-friendly versions of my maps for ages now – still not sure when I get there, but I want you to know that it’s just moved up on my todo-list. A lot further up.

Minnesota is quite crazy with all that blue, right? Some other US states that are equally mind-blowing: North Dakota, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming. You can check them all out here.

Yes, most of the Peruvian waters drain into the Atlantic Ocean. Here are the maps of Peru, if you want to take a closer look.

Asia is amazingly colourful with lots of endorheic basins in the middle areas: deserts, the Himalayas and the Caspian sea are to blame. Also note how the Indonesian islands of Java and Sumatra are divided.

I mentioned earlier that I also made white versions of all maps. Here’s Australia with its vast deserts. If you're wondering about the weird lines in the middle: that’s the Simpson desert with its famous parallel sand dunes.

North America with white background and colourful oceans looks pretty neat, I think.

Finally, I made the drainage basin maps of the individual oceans: The Atlantic, the Arctic, the Indian and the Pacific. The Arctic is my favourite one.

I really hope you like my new maps, and that they will become as popular as my river basin maps. Those have already helped dozens of environmental NGOs to illustrate their important messages all around the world. It would be nice if these maps too could find their purpose.

#maps reimagined #geography #cartography #maps #my art #rivers of the world #ocean drainage basins #ocean maps #river maps

[breaktheicemp3]

I don’t like fashion aesthetics because I cannot stand looking at people in just a visual + stylistic sense for too long. for my own mental wellbeing. Also don’t think I could get into certain genres of music and/or subcultures because for whatever reason I get uncomfortable when the influences feel a little too catholic

#I mostly need to feel detached from what I look like to feel happy #I don’t vibe well with either makeup or having my hair or figure needing to look a certain way #and idk it feels like too much work to have to dig into some of the (and there will be no one can fight me on this) unsavory influences #visually or ideologically of certain aesthetics #and the thing about being catholic yeah I don’t know anything about goth anything but that’s why I’m kinda meh on it #also don’t like thinking of things in feminine and masculine terms or feeling like im too much of either #idk im kinda a boring vanilla whatever etc person in many areas of my life #which is fine I think being comfortable is positive for me. #the only thing remarkable about my appearance might just be the thickness of the lens of my glasses otherwise it’s just nondescript #clothes like plain lounge pants shirts #i tried being more fashionable or put together last fall but overtime I just wore more comfortable clothing #I can’t wear polyester so 90% of clothes anyway. also I hate it when you wear less fashionable clothes that it seems like you’re letting #yourself go. like maybe. maybe I’m just comfortable. I don’t see why ppl put so much stock into appearances #ofc I can’t completely say that because in the back of my mind I’ve Always thought about how my appearance affects people’s reactions to me #Idk I realize that sounds unremarkable. which is also how I feel. and idk what I’m good at or really what makes me happy. so. idk. #I realize that’s not smth you can base your personhood on what you’re good at. I wish I could at least find a passion of any sort #other than lying around or overthinking mindlessly #omg and I keep on thinking about how I have to fix all my bad habits and become an amazingly charming person out of necessity in time for #school. now i just hope I can become at peace with myself so I can do whatever I need to do #rymacore

[luveline]

Hiii!! Could I request a bombshell reader x Spencer where someone (a local police maybe) says something rude to her about her appearance or something and normally it doesn’t really get to her, but something snaps and she kinda shuts down/is rude to Spencer until he coaxes it out of her? Sorry it’s long I had an idea and ran w it loollll

ty for requesting angel! confident fem!reader, 1k

Spencer shouldn’t expect his colleague to hold his hand, especially one so confident. What sense would that make, a woman as established as you are, who smiles without a lick of worry nor smugness, wanting to hold his hand? 

But you do it all the time, is the thing. In the car on the way to crime scenes, in the hallways of the office, under the round table. It started as a tethering for his distractedness, when one day he’d wanted to talk but hadn’t had the presence of mind to walk at the same time, so you’d taken his hand and led him to the office. You’ve been taking it at your discretion ever since.  

Spencer knows something is wrong —you haven’t tried to hold his hand all day. And even if you aren’t interested in him romantically, Spencer has come to crave the touch. He’ll accept platonic hand holding. Anything, really. 

“You’re staring very deeply, Dr. Reid,” you mutter, shades from your usual lightness. 

“I’m thinking.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“About you.”

“Well,” you smile fleetingly. “You should always be thinking about me.” 

“You’re truly humble.” 

His joke doesn’t land, it crashes and burns; your smile fades completely into a short, sharp line. Your gaze moves back into the restaurant, waiting for the team's food order in silence once again. 

Spencer’s pinky finger twitches across the gap. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

You stay quiet, Spencer worries. He takes the bags before you can when they bring your food to the collection desk, two lumps of heat he holds to his thighs as you begin the walk back to the hotel. Tonight, the team will pick at their food together and rehash the same arguments they’ve been making all day, filling in each other's gaps, and tomorrow the work will start again. He can’t have you this unhappy again tomorrow. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, watching you turn to him from the corner of his eye, “you know you are, we all do, everyone who meets you. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, or to feel better, but… I’m here for you. If you want to talk. It’s been a hard couple of days, and talking about traumatic events as they happen and directly afterward make them easier to recover from.” 

“I’m not traumatised.” 

“Upsetting,” he corrects. “Having a shoulder to cry on is good for you, and I can be that shoulder. You know, if you need me to be.” 

He can’t know this in the moment, though maybe one day you’ll tell him, further down the line when the hand holding is better defined, but you look at him and you love him. To know Spencer is to love him. Or at least that’s how you’ve always felt. You’d love to cry on his shoulder about what transpired that morning if it weren’t embarrassing to think about, you’re upset over a throwaway comment made by nobody important. 

Spencer offers his company earnestly. He stammers. It’s amazingly sincere, as he usually is. He won’t mind if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just listen. 

You clear your throat. “I know I’m not to everyone’s taste. I know that the way I… present myself isn’t what most men like. People love confidence, but not when it’s bossy, not when it’s– when it’s vain. And I am vain. I think about my appearance a lot, I think I’m beautiful most of the time, I try so hard to have that be true.” You eye him thoughtfully. “Do you realise that?” 

He shakes his head gently, one ear toward one shoulder and then the other, as though balancing. “Sort of. I know you put effort into your appearance, but I also assume a lot of it to be natural.” 

“Right, well. It’s not natural. Not really. My natural beauty wouldn’t be all the beautiful to most people. And I’ve accepted that, I know what I like about myself, and–” You’re losing the thread of your point, an upset creeping into your melodic tone and turning it ragged. “When people tell me they don’t like how I look now, I guess it hurts because I know they wouldn’t like me before, either, and I feel defeated because I know I can’t win.” 

“Who said they don’t like how you look?” Spencer asks, confused, on his way to annoyed. 

“Officer Friendly.” You look to your shoes, watching the steps you take. “Guess he wasn’t as nice as we thought.” 

“What did he say to you?” 

You shrug. “Same story. He doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. Doesn’t like uppity women.” 

“Did he call you that?” 

“What are you gonna do if he did?” you ask without malice. 

“Morgan’s teaching me self defence for a reason.” You smile at his light joke, though it doesn’t last. He transfers the takeout bags into one hand, the other held out to you, his fingers sliding down your arm to your wrist. “You know you’re beautiful, with or without makeup. And you’re not uppity, you’re out of his league. There’s a difference.” 

“You’re flirting with me.” 

“No.” He wishes he had the wherewithal sometimes, but this isn’t flirting. “I’m being honest with you. Men like that don’t like you because they know they’ll never, ever have you, or anyone like you. There isn’t anyone like you,” he adds, sliding his hand into yours. 

He squeezes all your fingers together twice in quick succession. 

“Don’t let a jealous chauvinist halfwit make you think you’re not good enough,” he says. 

You curl your fingers around his before he can take his hand back. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. Then, smiling, you let him go. 

“I’ve never heard you say something mean like that,” you say. “Halfwit. That’s crass.” 

“I was going to say he’s an asshole, if that’s better.” 

Your laugh echoes off of the sidewalk. “That’s perfect. Say something meaner.” 

The insult he uses next doesn’t bear repeating. 

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking about Steve who has not a single idea about how social media works, but he downloads a few things like Instagram and Twitter only to check in on the kids. Other than that, he has zero knowledge of pop culture and kind of lives in that blissful bubble. Every once in a while, the kids will get a bit exasperated with him, but he enjoys listening to them explain things - and he knows they secretly love being able to rehash all the gossip.

And honestly, being out of the loop has it’s perks. Especially when he’s on a plane to Los Angeles, California to visit the Byers while they’re there for a concert and to do some sightseeing in the meantime. He’s sat next to someone who sits by the window seat but wears a baseball cap and sunglasses, curly hair tied back in a ponytail. He seems strangely on edge - maybe suffering from a hangover or scared of flying.

Steve can’t help but tap him on the arm. When the stranger turns, he has his mouth in a flat line looking strangely done with the conversation before it’s even begun. “Sorry, I was just going to ask if you’re okay,” Steve says.

The man frowns and tilts his head. He hesitates to reply, “Yes, I’m just… a bit on edge.”

“Tell me about it. This is my first time on a plane.”

The stranger’s mouth twitches. “Is it really?”

“Yeah. What about you?” Steve asks.

“I’ve been on hundreds of planes - would rather be on the road though,” the stranger says reaching up to grab at the end of his ponytail and twirl it around his finger.

Steve smiles and replies, “I get that. I’m Steve by the way.” He holds his hand out to the stranger who eyes it wearily.

“Eddie,” he replies quietly and shakes his hand.

Steve gets distracted by the rings on his hands and finds himself asking about them. The stranger looks at him for a moment, and, even with the sunglasses on, Steve can tell Eddie is strangely taken aback. Steve is about to take it back and apologize for… mentioning the rings? But Eddie points to the first one and explains.

The rest of the plane ride goes well, amazingly well even. Steve finds himself chatting away with Eddie and throughly enjoying his company - especially when he holds his hand while the plane takes off. He especially enjoys the moment when Eddie briefly takes his sunglasses out to look at the clouds, and Steve gets to see his beautiful brown eyes.

A range of emotions pass through those eyes before Eddie puts the sunglasses back on. Steve almost asks him to keep them off - entranced by the way they express everything he’s thinking. But that can be a dangerous thing, so he doesn’t press him about it.

When the captain announces that they’re about to land, Steve is truly upset to think about not getting the chance to see Eddie again. Maybe it’s the fact that Steve has taken a risk and finally left Indiana for once or maybe Eddie’s just one of the first people he’s hit it off with in a long time, but Steve asks, “Do you want to get coffee? After we land.”

Eddie’s tongue rests on his top lip, tracing it back and forth as he considers it. He finally responds, “I would love to, but I have an appointment as soon as we land.”

Steve lets the disappointment settle in him but tries his best not to let it show. “It’s alright.”

But Eddie fidgets with his rings, tongue still resting on his top lip as he debates something. “Do you have an Instagram?” He asks.

Steve laughs bashfully. “I do, but I never use it. Well, I do sometimes just to keep track of some kids I used to babysit honestly, like Dustin who I told you about.”

Eddie’s smile turns into a full blown grin. “Of course. Well, do you mind if I get your Instagram so I can message you with when I’m free? I would give you my number but… I’m afraid of it getting out. Not that you would do that but… people listening and whatnot…” Eddie spins his rings so anxiously fast that it makes Steve nearly laugh.

“Yes, I hope I remember it correctly because I didn’t come up with it,” Steve confesses. Eddie passes him his phone with the notes app open. He types in steve.the.hair.harrington and hands the phone back.

Eddie takes it back and laughs as he reads it. “It’s fitting,” he explains and reaches out to mess with a few strands.

“I try my best,” Steve replies with a shrug, wondering how he can get Eddie to touch his hair again.

“My hair stylist would love you,” Eddie says then freezes.

Steve smiles. “You have a hair stylist?”

Eddie struggles to respond but is given an out as the plane finally lands. He’s immediately reaching out to grab Steve’s hand, and he forgets all about the question.

Eddie doesn’t let go until people start making their way off the plane, using his hand to tilt his baseball cap a little lower and tuck in on himself. It’s as if he’s trying to avoid having someone see him, but Steve doesn’t want to pry so he doesn’t ask.

Eddie follows Steve off the plane and glances around once they get to the terminal. Then, he quickly pulls him into a hug and whispers, “Thank you for a normal flight.”

Steve has no idea what he means by that, but he just squeezes him back tighter. Eddie pulls away and lingers in his arms. Steve wants more than anything to take off his sunglasses and look into his eyes again.

There’s a sound of a camera going off that has Eddie jumping away and putting his hands in his pockets. “Think we’re near someone famous?” Steve jokes.

“Oh, I know we are,” Eddie says with a small smile that makes it seem like he knows something that Steve doesn’t. Before he can ask, Eddie is saying, “I hope I’ll see you again. Goodbye, Steve.” And with that he’s rushing off, pulling his baseball cap a little lower and directing his gaze towards the ground.

He’s strange, but Steve likes him.

The rest of his day, he has a spring in his step. And by the time he gets to his hotel, he collapses on his bed with a sigh of relief. He pulls out his phone and checks for any notifications before he realizes his phone has been on airplane mode. He turns it off and waits for a message from Robin or Dustin to appear on his screen.

Instead, he’s bombarded with notification after notification - including 27 missed calls from Dustin. He calls him immediately.

The phone rings for not even a second before Dustin is answering with a scream of, “Steve Harrington, why have you not answered your phone?!”

“I’ve been sightseeing. Is everything okay?”

“Check the photos I sent you!”

Steve rushes to his messages, finding them filled with people he hasn’t heard from in years. He ignores that and goes to his pinned messages with Dustin. He clicks on the first picture he sees.

It’s a poor quality photo of him and Eddie hugging in the terminal. He swipes to find a photo of him and Eddie holding hands on the plane. Then another one of him lingering in Eddie’s arm looking… very smitten. “Dustin where did you get these?” Steve asks swiping and even coming across a video of them talking on the plane, with Steve laughing as Eddie dramatically tells some sort of tale.

“Better question, how did this even happen Steve? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Steve is thoroughly confused. “Dustin, I just met Eddie today. But seriously, how did you get these?”

There’s a pause on the other line and a breathed out, “Oh my god.” He can hear Dustin take a deep breath before he asks, “Steve, please tell me that you know who Eddie Munson is.”

“His last name is Munson?”

There’s a muffled scream on the other line before Dustin is launching into a speech about how Eddie is one of the most famous up and coming artists right now. And yeah Corroded Coffins does sound familiar, but it doesn’t click until Dustin explains that’s who Steve and the Byers are going to see in concert.

Oh.

Steve thinks back and everything clicks - especially the number of people who were staring at him and trying to sneak photos while he was out. He scrolls to a screenshot of a Twitter post with the caption, “did anyone else know that eddie munson has a boyfriend???”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Dustin, how many people think we’re dating?”

“The entire internet so basically the whole world,” Dustin says, and Steve doesn’t have time to even process that statement before Dustin is yelling, “Oh my god!”

“What?”

“Eddie Munson just liked a photo I was tagged in! Holy shit, he’s seen my face!”

“Yeah, dude, I told him all about you on the plane,” Steve says. And boy, that probably will not help with the kid’s ego.

Steve opens his Instagram, ignoring Dustin’s little screams on the other line, and takes in the sheer number of notifications. He quickly goes to his requests in his messages and finds one from therealeddiemunson. “Hey, Dustin, what does a blue checkmark mean?”

Dustin groans on the other line asking why it was Steve who got to meet him before finally explaining it. Steve accepts the request and stares at the message hey, you still on for that coffee?

Steve clicks on Eddie’s profile and his heart thuds. He’s pretty sure people aren’t supposed to have a “K” in their follower count. He looks at the recent photos and feels himself turn a bit red. He almost has no clue how the Eddie he met on the plane and Eddie Munson are the same guy.

“Dustin, if I turned down Eddie Munson for coffee would you ever be able to forgive me?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, or I swear to god I will never let my mom bake anything for you again.”

Steve laughs and with that he goes back to the messages and sends Absolutely :)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #this deleted three times while I was writing this #I nearly gave up

[thevulturesquadron]

Y'all I am losing my mind, I need to say it.

Do you know how amazingly written this scene is??? Do you understand?

Rogue removes the glove and instinctively (out of raw desire and need for connection) tries to touch Magneto's face but stops herself because it's the kind of intimacy that creates tension. She realizes she doesn't want to step into muddy waters, instead she waits for his hand. And he gladly and respectfully accepts it. And not only that - he understands it's an exchange of safe, grounded intimacy that is extended to him and he proceeds to take her hand in his, but also to place his other hand on top of hers.

They nicely seal this scene with Storm’s words; 'to feel another soul finally seeing yours'. Because they do. They've seen each other at their best, and they've seen each other at their worst (when one has failed the other or when they have been too quick to pass judgment onto each other). And that gesture reads to me as "I see you, and I want to believe in you. And this situation in which we are now, how we got here - absolutely sucks, but I am glad you are here."

That’s always been Rogue and Magneto in a nutshell for me. I am in tears about how well handled this moment was. And if the rest of the season will descend into drama, jealous love, conflicts and if it will all burn to the ground so be it (hope it won't be the case) - but you will always find me here, in this moment.

#magneto #rogue #x men '97 #x men 97 #erik lensherr #anna marie #x-men #xmen #rogneto #rogue x magneto #rogueneto #I am serious #somebody help #is there a name for this #i want to tag it properly

[multific]

Modern Warfare Men and No Nut November - Preferences

Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish, John Price, Kyle Garrick, König, Maxim Bale, Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Warnings: smut

Summary: In which both of you participate in the challenge. 

A/N: Yes, I know November is over but this was a request so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it!

Simon Riley

You suggested the idea of having no sex or any kind of act for a month. You two have been at it pretty much every day, sometimes many times during the day, so it came as the perfect idea.

You told him that it would make him want you more and vice versa. 

What you forgot is that Simon could be very patient. 

So much so, that he even said "Only a month?" before he shrugged and moved on.

What none of you expected is that the sexual tension and frustration would be too much to bear.

On day 27, he would be without a shirt and you would physically shake.

On day 28, you would wear a pair of jeans that just makes your ass look amazing, making him take a cold shower immediately.

On day 30, both of you had enough and you couldn't take it anymore.

To say you two destroyed each other's clothes would be a nice thing to say.

He never pounded you as hard as he did on that day. He never came as hard or as much as he did on that day. 

Johnny MacTavish

It was actually his idea, he heard from Simon that he and his wife were doing this challenge and Johnny wanted to try it out. 

You agreed, you really thought both of you had enough self-restraint to survive.

And in the beginning, it was okay. It seemed like you were doing good.

Until you weren't.

By the end of the month, you really wanted to at least take care of the 'problem' yourself.

But you couldn't.

As for Johnny, he was surprisingly well. He distracted himself and did many things around the house.

He even finished the porch that he started months before. He cleaned the garden and even began to build a new area in the garden for your dogs.

The fact that you didn't have sex, resulted in a very clean house.

But you both made it, and once the month ended, you two were at it again. 

The garden for the dogs? Forgotten.

But at least you both very finally satisfied again.

Kyle Garrick

When you suggested the idea, he actually had something similar in mind. So, you both agreed to go along with it.

And surprisingly, you both did amazingly well.

You two went out on many cute dates, never once making any sexual remarks.

It was easy, but it didn't mean you didn't miss it.

Kyle counted the last couple of days as if it was Christmas.

John Price

John would be up for the idea. But he would fail on the same day.

Seeing you preparing dinner, you happened to bend over to pick up something, and it was over. 

He had you bent over the table in a second.

Maxim Bale

It took you a solid 5 minutes to explain the entire thing. He didn't understand why you would want to do this, but when you explained that it could be exciting, he was down for it.

It was a long month for Maxim.

He was never a sex-crazed person but he did like his sex in the morning, so when you reminded him that you would rather not, he was a little offended. 

Just a little.

The month was a struggle more for you than him.

He could easily occupy himself by doing something with his car.

And there you were, watching him fix his car, covered in sweat, muscles on full display.

As soon as the month was over, you were all over him.

Alejandro Vargas

He would laugh when you tell him the idea. 

Him? Surviving a month without sex or anything?

Impossible.

He knew it, you knew it.

But if you insist, he will try his best.

2 days he would last.

Completely failing the entire challenge. 

But who could blame him?

He loved you and your body.

And just as he said: "How did you expect me to live without this perfect pussy tightening around me?"

König

In the beginning of your relationship, he never instigated sex.

It was always you making the first move.

But as he got more and more comfortable with you, he started to come out of his shell.

It got to a point where he had to stop himself.

So, a challenge like this would excite him. He wanted to see how long he would last.

But let's be fair, he would struggle.

Because once you find the person you love the most, the one you feel so good around you can finally be yourself. And then you put yourself through a challenge like this.... it is torture. 

Yet, somehow he would still pull through, although he is sure his balls would hurt more and more with each passing day.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak  @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #modern warfare imagine #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #john price x reader #john price imagine #john price imagines #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #maxim bale x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig imagine #alejandro vargas x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #modern warfare fanfic #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warefare 2 #modern warfare preferences #video games #video game x reader #captain john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[literaila]

cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

*

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air. 

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long. 

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely. 

it's nice. easy. 

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow. 

and you feel that way now when the kids show up. 

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment). 

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them. 

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment. 

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency. 

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something. 

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face. 

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”  

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.” 

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst. 

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.” 

“he’s not sleeping.” 

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.” 

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?” 

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure. 

(you're sure. it's your fault.) 

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?” 

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.” 

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.” 

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.” 

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail. 

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.” 

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad." 

"sad?" 

"i think he's crying." 

megumi snorts. 

you blink at her. "are you serious?" 

she nods, sullenly. 

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler. 

there's really no winning here. 

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him." 

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while. 

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way). 

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care. 

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around. 

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it. 

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him. 

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response. 

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead. 

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair. 

(it's irritatingly soft). 

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying." 

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying." 

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today." 

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different. 

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again. 

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids." 

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks." 

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing. 

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed." 

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says. 

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?" 

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath." 

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty." 

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning." 

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast." 

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me." 

"well, i want to eat. get up." 

"go cook." 

"get up." 

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?" 

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them." 

"i was wrong." 

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile. 

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him. 

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty. 

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together. 

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him. 

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed). 

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?" 

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work." 

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap." 

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth." 

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact." 

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space." 

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back. 

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?" 

"yes." 

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember." 

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers. 

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning. 

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time. 

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick." 

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs." 

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck. 

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you. 

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes. 

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't." 

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies. 

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.  

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby." 

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working." 

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you." 

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there. 

"how are you feeling now, baby?" 

"smushed." 

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard. 

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru. 

"yes," he huffs, again. 

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow. 

work will have to wait. this is much more important. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[yunholuvrr]

muse

summary: Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, model!yunho, fashion designer!hongjoong, photographer!reader

warnings: explicit smut minors dni, petnames (baby, love, princess), big dick yunho, semi-public sex???? pretty tame i think, lmk if i should add anything

note: taking a break from we all need love to indulge in my feelings for cosmopolitan yunho oh my GAWD he's so fine.... & i did not proofread sorry for any typos

You've worn many hats since you graduated. Interning at various clothing companies, freelance photography picking up gigs from friends and classmates, and a brief stunt as a journalist. It only makes sense that all your jobs have led to you standing in front of a glowing runway, camera propped and ready for the first model to walk out, people rushing by as they settle into their front row seats.

Not every classmate of yours was doing well in the fashion industry, but one in particular was making waves, if this event was anything to go by. Kim Hongjoong, the designer that came out of nowhere.

You chuckle at the marketing of your old friend. Anyone who knew him would know he was born to design clothes, hell, if you didn't know him you'd only have to take one look at his closet. But in the grand scheme of things, a man's gender inclusive line going viral after only 2 years in the industry is pretty unheard of.

The lights dim and you focus on your camera's digital screen, quadruple checking all your settings. Hongjoong was your biggest client during your freelancing days, and your gig tonight was to capture his show for press. Usually you'd just be doing personal events like weddings or birthdays, but these would be seen be anyone and everyone in the industry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

One model after another appears on stage, making their rounds in all types of bold, complex outfits. His work wasn't really your style, you preferred to keep it simple and comfortable, but it's hard to deny its appeal. The models he invited showed the pieces off amazingly, too. They worked on all body types and proportions, which you made sure to capture in every photo.

One man in particular stood out to you as you took every shot you could. He looked more like a traditional model, tall and thin, lean and muscular in all the right places. He could get a job anywhere he tried. The charisma oozing from his face was infectious. A few dark strands of hair fell in front of his rhinestone speckled eyes, which seemed to make eye contact with every single person in the room. His cupid's bow was sharp, and the smirk he sent to your lens in particular had you nearly forgetting to press the shutter release.

"That's a wrap!" A man calls from behind you. The stage lights finally fade and the crowd dissipates, leaving you and a handful of other staff to pack up. You sit on a nearby stool, squinting at the small screen and clicking through your photos. Before you can get very far through your collection, someone taps you on the shoulder.

"After party in an hour babes," Hongjoong chirps next to you, "you're invited. Thanks for the excellent photos tonight."

"You haven't even seen them yet," you chuckle and finish packing up, resolving to get ready for the party despite the exhaustion you feel at the back of your mind.

He smacks your arm playfully before insisting that every photo you've ever taken has been perfect. "By the way, did any of the models catch your eye?"

"Is there a correct answer or do you want my honest thoughts?" You pierce right through your friend's shenanigans. Hongjoong has always been quite the matchmaker among your friends, although you wouldn't call it his most successful hobby. It's almost like he just picks two names out of a hat and decides they would look good together.

He only shakes his head, "I really wanna know! They're all really nice."

You only squint before responding, "Tall guy, dark hair. He was towards the end but he really walked his ass off."

His face lights up immediately and you know you chose the right answer, "Yunho!"

"Yunho," you repeat, "yeah he's nice to look at. I suppose that's his job."

"He's the newest model I've worked with," Hongjoong looks at the runway fondly, "I didn't know if he'd bring anything special to the table at first, but he's truly irresistible."

"And you invited him to the after party and you want us to meet because we'd be such a perfect couple," you stand up, eye to eye with him now, and giggle at the little game he's playing.

"Maybe so... but listen!" You both start walking towards the exit, "I don't want you to fuck him on the first night or anything. Just get to know him, at the very least you'll get a new client. His portfolio is bare bones."

You don't even have time to process what he said before he's slipping away backstage with a quick goodbye. If you were being honest, this Yunho guy probably wouldn't be a bad hookup. You weren't really looking for anything, but he's pretty. And you can't deny good work connections.

You arrive 20 minutes after Hongjoong told you to, fashionably late. You planned to have a drink or two and stick close to him since the small buds of exhaustion have already bloomed into a fullblown headache. No one should have any questions for a random photographer anyway.

"Speak of the devil, there's my right hand woman now!" Your thoughts were immediately proven wrong when you walk in and a small group of models you recognize from the runway stare fondly in your direction. Yunho is one of them, of course, but you try not to think about the words spoken about him just an hour earlier.

"Hi! I'm y/n, we went to school together," you manage a convincing smile as Hongjoong passes you a drink.

"I can't wait to see your photos," one lady gushed, "Hongjoong showed us some of your work and your style is just lovely."

You a manage a small thanks before taking a small sip. The conversation flows into a new topic with ease and you're left in the background to quietly enjoy the party. That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Excuse me," a shy, deep voice floats above you, "you don't seem like you're in a talkative mood, but I had a question for you?"

You look up and Yunho smiles down at you. He looks nothing like he did on stage before; his piercing eyes have morphed into soft, welcoming ones and his charming smirk is replaced by a nervous grin. You nod and take another sip, letting him continue.

"Hongjoong has just mentioned you so much I thought I'd ask if you could take some headshots for me?" He fiddles with his fingers and when your eyes widen he looks away.

"What has he said about me?" You try not to sound accusatory, but it doesn't come across as nicely as you'd like.

"Oh nothing bad! Nothing bad at all," Yunho chuckles, and it might be the nicest sound you've heard at this party so far, "he just wouldn't stop talking about how great you are. I figured I'd take the hint and ask."

You shift from one foot to the other, considering his request before deciding it wouldn't hurt to get to know him more. "Is this your first modeling gig?"

"Just about," there's that chuckle again, and it's contagious, "I've done a few small things here and there, but this was the biggest scale by far."

"You know I won't lower my rates just because you're new," you tease, "or because Hongjoong wants me to."

He just shakes his head profusely, "oh absolutely not! If anything I was gonna offer you more..." you see Yunho think through his sentence as he says it, trailing off after realizing what exactly he said.

"You flatter me, but I'm not in the mood to talk business right now," you swear a slight pout comes across his face before you even get to finish.

He doesn't skip a beat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and offering it to you, "then why don't we talk later?"

You can only mutter a "smooth" while tapping your number into his contacts. You hand it back to him and watch him type something before feeling a buzz in your own pocket.

"I'll send you some info when I have a moment this week," you try not to stare at his now mischievous smirk, continuing to sip from your empty cup.

"I'll be waiting," he bends down to your height, and his voice lowers to barely above a whisper, "talk to you soon."

He's gone before you know it, disappearing into the crowd, and the brief proximity makes your insides turn in ways you don't want to admit. You have to find Hongjoong.

His bright blue hair stands out near the food bar and you quickly make your way over. The words fly out of your mouth before you even get to him, "what exactly did you say to Yunho?"

He gives you a small huh, clearly tipsier than you are, before a look of recognition washes over his face. "Oh hi love! I didn't say anything, why?"

"He said you kept mentioning me to him?" You would laugh at the state of your friend if it weren't for the sudden desire to know everything Yunho thinks of you already.

"Hm, I only said you're a great at taking photos!" He clings onto your shoulder and laughs, "and that he stood out to you on the runway tonight! He smiled ear to ear when I said that, isn't he so cute?"

"Hongjoong you did not," you grab both of his shoulders and shake him a bit, "does he think I like him or something?"

"Do you?" When you don't respond he just laughs again, "I guess my job is already done."

"I don't even know him!" You wish you could sincerely be mad at the man in front of you, but he's been correct all night so far.

"Don't you want to though?"

"I hate you, seriously," you glare at him, but he only laughs again before returning to his previous conversation. You don't know what he's gotten you into, but you don't think you mind it.

Your workdays have been packed ever since the night of the show. Being Hongjoong's right hand photographer had its perks, like the dozens of offers you've received since the articles went out, but that doesn't mean it isn't the most stressed you've been in weeks. You all but collapse by the time your lunch break rolls around.

Forget about me already?

The light buzz of your phone disrupts your thoughts about scheduling. No one usually texts you, at least not during the day. No one except Yunho.

Sorry! I've been swamped. Let me send you the form my other clients are using to schedule with me.

Aw, no special treatment for your favorite model?

You make a mental note to beat the shit outta Hongjoong for doing this the next time you see him.

Maybe if you give me a good enough offer I'll put you at the top of my list

Not even 10 minutes later, a scheduling request dings on your phone and you see the payment is three times your normal rate for headshots. You mentally curse Joong for putting you in this situation, but you're willing to play the game if it means good dick and good pay.

Am I at the top of your list now? I can't wait to see you

You can't help the way your thighs squeeze together for a moment, now eager to fit him in your schedule (and elsewhere). You wrap up your short lunch with a newfound motivation to get through your emails, making sure to leave a 2 hour slot open for him. You wonder how long you can hold off on getting back to him before he starts begging you. That would have to be a game you play another time.

The studio is empty when you show up, allowing you to quietly set up just the way you want to. Your movements are quick and practiced, dozens of headshot appointments under your belt at this point. These were supposed to be simple and straightforward, so you didn't have much to prepare besides rolling down the white backdrop and setting up your lights. There were a few other props on the side if he wanted to take more shots. You asked a couple people to help out with equipment during the shoot, but you came in early just to have some peace and quiet. Your coworkers arrive a few minutes after you do, exchanging pleasantries before finishing the job you started.

Then he walks in. You're double checking your camera settings when you hear the front door open and his honey-like voice greeting the other staff. You feel his attention shift to you, and when you turn around a playful smirk is plastered on his face. His makeup isn't as dark as it was on the runway, but he looks clean and undoubtedly handsome. His styled hair falls just past his eyes, moving with his lashes every time he blinks. He's pretty, there's no way around it, a type of face that you can't help but stare at.

"Why don't you take a photo, it lasts longer," he snickers, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in.

"That's my job after all," you motion to a stool in front of the camera, "do you want any props? We can do more than simple headshots if you'd like."

He nods and sits down, long legs crossing each other at the ankle. "I'd love that, miss photographer."

You narrow your eyes at the comment before signaling to the crew you're ready to go. One lady is on standby near the lights, another guy has a handful of reflectors ready. You try to ignore the tension between your model and focus on your craft.

"Can we try the gold?" You call out to your team, closely monitoring Yunho's face in the warmer light. After a moment of thought, you ask him to tilt his head. He's well behaved in front of the camera, following your every suggestion. You wonder if the crew can feel the heavy energy between you two.

After a half hour of posing, shooting, monitoring, retouching, and shooting again, you call for a break and everyone agrees. The couch in the corner of the studio looks so inviting you nearly run to sit down, oblivious to the way Yunho follows.

"You're really good at this," you jump at his voice next to you.

"I went to school for it so I would hope so," you mumble, getting comfortable. You open your phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll before you all come back, but he just plops down next to you.

"Have you ever gotten your own headshots taken?" You shake your head, trying to ignore the way his leg is pressed against yours. "You're so pretty behind that camera, maybe we can switch one day."

You almost bump into his face from how quickly you look up at him, "I'd never let you touch my equipment."

He hums in disapproval before pulling out his own phone and leaning back into the cushions. "Fine, maybe not me. But I don't see why Joong's never put you on the runway. You're stunning."

He expects a reaction from you, but you control yourself, leaning forward to get as much distance as you can. The two of you sit in innocent silence for a while, but the tension only grows thicker. There's five minutes before you shoot for at least another half hour, and when your job is to stare at his face you're not sure you can go much longer.

"What exactly did Hongjoong tell you about me?" You sit up straight, taking a leap of faith.

"About how in love you are with me, why?" You swiftly kick his leg next to you and he chuckles, "he just said I caught your eye. He wasn't lying was he?"

"No, definitely not," you sigh, "but what I don't understand is why you like me?"

"Who said I like you? You just happen to be very pretty and talented and fun to tease."

"So you do like me," you huff in disbelief. Something in you stirs with every word he says and you have to cross your legs for some relief from the building pressure.

"If wanting to take you right now in the middle of your studio means I like you, then sure," his slender fingers trace the back of your shoulders, wrapping a secure arm around you.

"We still have all the props to play with," you scan the studio, but your team is nowhere to be found during the break.

"What if I want to play with you instead?" His breath softly blows across your ear now, voice just barely above a whisper. It takes everything in you to not kiss him right then and there.

"You're the one paying for this timeblock," you pull up your crew group chat on your phone, already making a decision.

"If we could wrap up here that'd be lovely, miss photographer," there goes that stupid nickname again.

"You can't call me anything else?"

"Would you prefer baby? Maybe princess? Or do you like meaner things?" His hand moves again to rest between your shoulder blades as he watches you type out a quick message.

"I would prefer if you shut up honestly," you press send. As far as your team knows, the client is satisfied and wants to end the shoot here for today. No one complains, you're still being paid for two hours thanks to Yunho's generous payment.

"Will you make me?" He traces a small circle with his thumb on your back, and the comment sounds more inviting than teasing. Your body reacts before your mind does, practically throwing yourself onto him out of annoyance and need. His lips are warm and soft and mold perfectly to yours.

He takes a sharp inhale as your tongue swipes past his bottom lip, his hand travelling up to hold the back of your neck. The other abandons his phone to take purchase on your hip, pulling you further on top of him. Yunho groans at the contact, resisting the urge to buck his hips up into you already. His flirting was almost as hard on him as it was on you.

"So needy," you mumble, propping yourself up on his chest to take in the view. His eyes are already blown out from lust, raking your body and letting his hands follow. His long fingers brush over your hardening nipples and you can't help the sigh that escapes.

He chuckles, "you're one to talk." He rolls his hips ever so slightly and you whine, head falling into his shoulder. He feels bigger than average below you and you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. You slowly rock your hips above him with his hands guiding you, whimpering into his skin.

"Can I taste you?" You freeze, head shooting up to stare at him in confusion. He wraps two fingers around your belt loops and tugs you forward again. "Please baby?" You nod and he sighs with relief as if his life depended on eating you out. Maybe it does.

He lays you on your back on a couch far too small for both of you like this, but you don't care. His lips are back on yours, warm and tender, as you feel both your jeans and panties slide down your legs. The cold air makes you flinch.

"Did I make you this wet while I was on the runway, love?" You feel one slender finger slide through your folds, but it's not enough. "Staring at me behind that camera all day must be so hard. I'll make it up to you," is the last thing he says before tucks his head snugly between your thighs.

Whatever snarky reply you came up escapes you with a moan just a bit too loud, his tongue flattening up against your slit. He wastes no time, too desperate to hear you above him. One hand holding you down just below your stomach, another teasing your entrance while his mouth makes quick work of your clit. You hope to the universe none of your crew left anything in the studio because your whines and wetness echoed through the room.

Before you know it he pushes one, then two, fingers into you, filling you up deliciously, and you buck your hips into him. His pace is slow and deep, opening you up to his liking. Some combination of his tongue and fingers nearly makes you scream, hands shooting straight to pull his hair. He groans into your flesh, vibrations sending sparks straight to your core, before looking up at you. His chin is glossy and a line of spit still connects you both and you nearly come at the sight alone.

"You're fucking delicious, darling," he pumps into you one last time before taking them in his mouth, sucking with a pop, "next time you should ride my face for me."

"Next time?" You watch as he unzips his own pants, shoving them down far enough for his dick to escape. It rebounds off his stomach, bigger than anything you've taken before.

"By the way you're staring," he grips himself at the base, "I think you want a next time." The way you lick your lips is involuntary.

He chuckles, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor nearby. You continue to stare shamelessly, boosting his ego as you etch his large, toned body into your mind. "Like what you see?"

"If you don't come here and fuck me right now Yunho I swear to god," and you swear you can see his dick twitch, but he simply tuts a finger at you.

"Ah ah ah, safety first princess," he slides a condom out of his pant pocket, ripping it open and handing it to you. You tilt your head and take it reluctantly, but he only smirks, "I know you want to touch me."

"Fuck you," you roll your eyes, sitting up and coming face to face (face to tip?) with his member. You never thought you'd see a dick that you'd describe as pretty, but his is long and thick and flushed a pretty shade of pink. You wrap your free hand around the base and pump a few times to tease him.

"Not now, love," you hear a shaky breath above you and you smirk. He pulls your other hand up and you comply, unravelling the condom smoothly down him. As soon as you're done he pushes you back down, not risking the chance of you testing him again.

"Let me know if it's too much for you baby," he whispers before finally pushing in. The stretch only stings for a second before turning into delight as he fills you up completely.

You sigh out in relief, mumbling a soft "keep going" and wrapping your hands around his neck. He listens immediately, pulling back almost all the way before thrusting back in. He keeps his slow pace until he's completely sure you're comfortable.

He looks down at where you connect before finally losing his composure. "You take me so fucking well," he moans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses all over you. His pace quickens relentlessly, the sound of skin on skin filling the studio.

You scream at one particularly rough snap of his hips, but he only barely slows down. "You okay, princess?"

"So fucking good," you pant above him, his mouth still ravishing your neck. He groans at your response, fucking you harder than before. You didn't even know it was possible. You snake a hand down to your throbbing clit, so close to coming undone.

"Please come on my dick baby," he all but growls, and the way his hips falter tells you he's close too. His words, on top of everything else, are enough to finally unravel you. You shutter and jerk up into him, moaning some string of fuck's and Yunho's until your mind goes completely blank. He comes shortly after, pumping into you sporadically until he finally flops down on top of you.

You both take a few moments to come back to your senses, nothing but a mess of sweaty limbs on this cramped couch. "Next time I'll take you home so I'll have room to cuddle you after," he chuckles, picking himself up.

"I would like that," you smile softly, legs aching too much to even attempt sitting up. He cleans you both up quietly before plopping back down, letting you stretch your legs across his lap.

"So," his hand traces up your frame to cup your cheek, "can I take you out to dinner sometime, miss photographer?"

#yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #yunho oneshot #ateez oneshot #yunho scenarios #i need him carnally

[thebibliosphere]

In somewhat humorous news, my mother got into a quandary today involving some former coworkers.

Before Hunger Pangs broke containment, I asked my mother not to tell people back home what my author name was because I didn't want to deal with the homophobia I'd get from certain family members if they knew I was writing queer romance. I also didn't want certain people to know because I knew they'd find my social media and fucking doxx me. Not out of any maliciousness, mind you, but just sheer fucking Internet safety incompetence.

Like we're talking the type of people who'll go onto your Instagram and use your full birth name-- regardless of your preferred name -- while asking if you remembered hanging out that one time near your parent's house-- you know, the place with the [RECOGNIZABLE LANDMARK] next to the [PRACTICALLY A GPS LOCATION.]

Yeah.

Anyway, my mother was cool with that because she also, quite frankly, didn't want people to know her only daughter was writing queer filth for a living. (Does anyone else remember when she told me I should apologize to @mothman-etd's mother for writing sex in my stories? Because I sure do.) That was until Hunger Pangs broke containment, and my mother, to her own shock, decided she was proud of me.

I think it was when she logged onto Amazon, expecting to see people one-starring it and calling it degenerate filth, but instead found over 300+ 5-star reviews screaming about how much they loved it and how much it meant to them, that she realized that maybe, sometimes, sex stories are okay.

(Amazingly, she pivoted and latched onto Vlad smoking being the worst thing about it and how I should be ashamed to write about characters that smoke, lol.)

Anyway. She bumped into an old coworker today and was so excited to tell them how well I was doing she forgot that a) she doesn't like telling people what I write about and b) I'd asked her not to tell certain people that it wasn't until she'd gotten through the whole "oh yes, doing very well, living in America writing books" spiel that she realized what she'd done and clamped her mouth shut.

She didn't name me or the book title, but it was too late because said former coworker went and told everyone else she used to work with, and now my mother's been invited to tea at the local church village tea shop with an ensemble of formidable gossips, specifically to talk about my book.

So, anyway, I may or may not be about to get accidentally doxxed, but my mother is the one about to walk into the local church and tell everyone the kid they threw out 20+ years ago for being a disobedient pain in the ass with Views about Christianity is now relatively popular online for writing best-selling queer romance novels about vampires and werewolves fucking in a soft BDSM dynamic, featuring blatant magic use and a prologue which talks explicitly about imprisoning and killing God(s).

*jazz hands*

#loool #hunger pangs adjacent

[formula-nyoom]

Don't Get Squeezed | CL 16

Charles Leclerc x Sister!Driver!Reader

Summary: The unexpectedness of the Chinese Grand Prix brings the younger Leclerc sister placing higher than she's ever placed for the upcoming race. But with worries of a high placement and no experience racing this track, a crash seems like an inevitability.

A/N: Pardon my French(literally, I don’t know that much French and had to use google translate). While some would expect me to place this in Suzuka, I decided to go with China because I honestly had no expectations for that race and was stressed something bad was gonna happen the whole time. 

~~~

The Chinese Grand Prix seemed to have an air of tense unexpectedness. Having not raced the track since 2019, none of the teams knew what to expect from this race weekend. With new car regulation, updated track maintenance, and the fact that 5 drivers have never raced this track before, it was well known that anything could happen. 

Out of all the things, you never expected to qualify P10 at a track you’ve never raced before. It sounded like a miracle that you were able to fly your Haas into starting in the top 10. But while the team was proud of your efforts, you were very nervous.

 “I’ve never started in the Top 10, Char! I only know how to start from the back, and honestly I think I’d prefer it there since it’s easier to avoid first lap crashes from the back.” You said to your brother as you paced your hotel room.

“That’s not true. You started from the top 10 and even the front plenty of times in F2. How is this any different?” Charles asked. You scoffed.

“En quoi est-ce différent? It’s different because in F2 I had a good car and was constantly lapping the others. I still don’t know how I managed to get my Haas in front of Sir Lewis Hamilton today!” You exclaimed.

 “I don’t see what’s so surprising about you qualifying P10. That’s the same spot you ended the sprint race in.”

 “That’s because, in the sprint I was able to climb my way from the back.” You told him. Charles let out an exasperated sigh at your own self doubt. He could partially see why you were nervous. Starting in a much higher position than where you usually qualify puts more expectations on your shoulder to do better. They’re even higher expectations then the one you already have with being a Leclerc. But Charles knew that you could do well, not just because he was your older brother but because he’s seen you drive. You may start from the back often, but your racing skills are phenomenal to where you constantly end in the points. Even if you were to drop from P10 at the start of the race, Charles knew that you’d be able to work your way back up and higher. 

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Charles’ thought process was interrupted by a knock at the door. He walked over and opened it, being met by Arthur with bags of food in his hands.

“Arthur, can you please help me reassure our sister that she will do amazingly starting in P10?” Charles asked as he let his younger brother into the room.

 “Arthur, can you remind Charles that the only reason I did good in F2 was because I outperformed everyone with a good car?” You asked, taking the bag that was offered to you from Arthur.

“I’m confused. What’s going on?” Arthur asked as he set the other bags down. You sighed.

 “I don’t think it’s a good thing I’m starting in 10th place for tomorrow’s race, considering how I’m much more accustomed to starting in the back.” You explained.

 “I think she’ll be fine.” Charles said.

“What’s the main thing you’re worried about with being in the top 10 at the beginning?” Arthur asked.

 “Getting squeezed. Everyone at the front is always bunched up trying to overtake at the start. I’m worried that I’m gonna get stuck in the middle since I can’t pull back or move forward starting in 10th place.” It was a common worry, one you had during every race. But it seemed to be much bigger now with your current grid placement.

“So don’t get squeezed. Keep your elbows out but be mindful of your surroundings.” Arthur said nonchalantly. You let out an exasperated sigh at your brother’s response. Charles saw that Arthur’s response didn’t help you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

 “Trust me (Y/N), as someone who has started in the top 10 multiple times, awareness of your surroundings is key. It may be tempting to overtake right from the start, but if you're that worried about possibly getting hit by someone, just remember to leave a gap.” He told you.

 “You’re one to talk about leaving gaps, Mr Inchedent.” You said, your own teasing managing to get you to smile. Charles sighed.

 “Peut-être que je te pousserai hors de la piste demain.(Maybe I’ll push you off the track tomorrow)” He mumbled. You laughed and threw a pillow at him.

 “Tu n'oserais pas!(You wouldn’t dare!)” You said, dodging the pillow that Charles threw back in your direction. 

~~~

The weather seemed to know how nervous you were and decided to make it worse by making it rain. It was only a drizzle, not hard enough to cancel the race. But every driver knew how unexpected wet conditions can be when racing. Even a drizzle can turn a driver’s race upside down. You’d just hoped you wouldn’t be one of them.

Before having to get into your cars, you and Charles managed to get away from your teams’ garages and give each other a hug for reassurance. It was your guys' tradition before each race. A promise that you would make it to the end. Arthur was able to join you two this time and you were glad that both of them were here. 

 “Don’t get squeezed.” Arthur said, giving you a shoulder pat before following Charles back to the Ferrari garage. If Arthur wasn’t Ferrari’s development driver, he would be in the Haas garage supporting you. But he had to settle for supporting both his siblings from only one team garage today. 

For the first time since joining F1, you slotted your car into the P10 spot after the formation lap while everyone waited for the lights to go out. You spotted your brother who was ahead of you in P2. You made eye contact with him through his car’s mirrors and gave him a thumbs up. Charles gave you a nod in return before you both directed your attention to the lights that were set to blink on at any moment.

Blink…Blink…Blink…Blink…Blink

The lights went out and everything roared to life. You slammed your foot on the throttle and your car cruised forward, steadily gaining speed. You immediately went to move to the outer edge of the approaching turn to hopefully avoid any front placement congestion.

 “Don’t get squeezed.” You thought to yourself.

A lot can happen on the first lap. Hell a lot can happen in the first turn.

You didn’t get squeezed going into turn one. Or turn two and 3. There was a bit of sliding on the track because of the wet conditions but you managed to get your car under control. It was the last turn, the turn that a lot of the drivers struggled with throughout the week, where everything went wrong.

You weren’t able to see who it was that was trying to overtake you. You felt the hit to the side of your car and could tell that it was too hard based on how fast you and the other car were going. But by then it was too late to break as your car started to spin out.

It’s when the ground switches from asphalt to gravel that the car starts to flip….

And flip…

And flip…

Your vision becomes a quick mixture of sky and ground as the car continues to roll. It’s too fast for you to properly brace for the impact with the barrier and all too quickly the only thing you see is darkness.

“Red Flag! Red Flag!” The voice of Charle’s race engineer quickly comes over the radio as he brakes going into turn one.

“What happened?” Charle’s asked, trying to split his attention between driving and whatever his engineer is going to say next.

“Return to the pits. We are trying to get more details and will update you once you’re in the pits.”

“Did someone crash? Tell me what happened.” Worry started to build up in his chest as multiple scenarios flashed through his mind, his sister a part of many of them.

 “There was a collision between an…Alpine…and a Haas.” 

Charles almost lost control of the car going into turn seven upon hearing what cars were involved but quickly recovered.

“Tell me it’s not (Y/N).” Charles demanded. “Please, tell me it’s not my sister that was involved.”

The silence from his race engineer seemed deafening. He probably knew that anything but the confirmation that his sister was safe could send Charles into a literal spiral on the track.

 “Come back to the pits Charles. Please.” It sounded like his race engineer was almost pleading with him and Charles reluctantly followed the orders and headed into the pit lane.

As soon as Charles’s car stopped in the Ferrari pitlane, he immediately got out of the car, not even taking the time to disengage his steering wheel. The pit crew tried to stop them but Charles pushed them away as he ran over to Haas garage. Charles’s hope rose when he saw the familiar white of a Haas car pull in, but it was quickly dashed when he saw that it wasn’t his sister pulling in, but her teammate. 

 Charles didn’t want to take that as confirmation that his sister was involved with the crash. He immediately ran over to the pit wall. His sister’s race engineer would tell him she was ok, right?

“(Y/N), are you ok?” Was the first thing Charles heard out of the engineer’s mouth. 

“Tell me my sister’s ok. She’s answering, right?” The race engineer barely glanced at the Ferrari driver, focusing more on getting a response from their own driver.

 “Are you ok? (Y/N) please respond.” The engineer said again. Charles wanted to take the engineer’s headset off, and ask that question himself. Hear his sister’s voice. Get confirmation that she was ok. But Charles’s eyes finally landed on one of the screens that was showing the replay of the crash.

You were approaching the last turn. For some reason Ocon decided to attempt an overtake when it was far too late and he got too close. His front wheel hit the side of your car, hard, causing you to violently spin. Charles' heart dropped into his stomach as he watched your car flip over and over on the gravel and it might as well have shattered when he watched your car harshly collide with the safety barrier.

“I’m getting no response.” Charles heard your engineer say to the team principal. Charles’ vision started to tunnel and all the noise around him became muffled. He didn’t even register that Arthur was now standing in front of him, trying to speak to him, but Charles didn’t hear anything.

His sister wasn’t responding

There was no movement from the car.

Is she breathing? She had to be? She had to be ok?

She’s alive right?

She was so worried about her placement and crashing. She wasn’t supposed to crash!

Charles’ brain betrays him as it thinks back to the one person he didn’t want to think about at this moment. This crash reminds him too much of Jules. It hits too close to home because the person in the car is his little sister. The little girl who was so enthusiastic about watching his karting races when he was younger. Who wanted to be just like her older brother and managed to race her way up the motorsports ladder. His little sister who made it into Formula 1 and who he gets to race alongside almost every weekend. 

Both of you knew from an early age the dangers of being a race car driver. But despite every crash, you’ve always managed to walk away from it. But all Charles saw was your car. Upside down and wedged in a barrier. There was no sign of movement from what little he could see of the driver’s seat, and you weren’t responding to your engineer. 

He couldn’t lose anyone else to this sport. Not after Jules…you had promised him that you would make it to the end-

“Charles!”

Charles snapped out of his panic state as Arthur yelled his name. He could tell now that he had begun to hyperventilate, and tried to calm his breathing.

 “They want you to try and talk to her.” Arthur said. “Maybe you can get a response.”

Charles numbly nodded and took the headset that was being offered to him. 

 “(Y/N), it’s Charlie…can you hear me? Are you ok?”

The silence was so loud.

“....(y/n)....(Y/N)!”

Consciousness slowly came back to you as you started to gain a sense of your surroundings. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t tell what was up or down. How did you get here? One second you were racing…and the next?

You had gotten squeezed.

“(Y/N)...can you hear me?” A voice came over your radio. Your arm trembled as you strained to press the radio button on your steering wheel. God, did everything hurt and you felt tears start to well up from the pain you felt. 

“Charles…” Your brother’s voice was the first thing you recognized. The one thing you could recognize in the darkness and confusion of your current predicament.

 “(Y/N)! Are you ok!” Charles asked over the radio. He sounded so worried and you mentally kicked yourself a bit knowing you were the cause of the worry.

“Charlie…everything hurts…I can’t move.” You told him. It was true. You felt trapped under your seatbelt and felt that one little movement would send pain throughout your whole body. 

 “Breathe sœur, breathe. Your car is upside down and wedged in the barrier. The safety marshals are trying to flip the car over to get you out right now.” Charles explained. That offered some comfort.  You listened to Charles' advice as you tried to take deep breaths. You moved your head a bit to try and get awareness of your surroundings, but even moving it an inch sent a wave of nausea through your body. You felt the car shake and braced your body as the car was flipped over and your vision was filled with daylight. You had to take in more deep breaths before you could lift your head and make eye contact with the safety marshal who was checking to see if you were ok. You managed to give them a thumbs up, a sign that you were conscious, and they immediately went to help you out of the car. Fans cheered as they saw you climb out of the car with assistance. Signs of relief seemed to echo throughout the pitlane and Charles and Arthur practically collapsed to their knees with relief at the sight of you alive and moving. Charles looked to the sky and placed a hand over his heart.

“Merci Jules…” He quietly whispered before hugging Arthur tight.

Despite the immense pain and the swimming feeling in your head, you managed to wave your hand to the closest grandstand, sending the fans a message that you were ok.  

Charles and Arthur watched as you were helped to the ambulance and placed on the stretcher. You would need to be taken to a hospital to assess any injuries and possibility of a concussion. Arthur told Charles that he would meet you at the hospital and call Lorenzo and Mama. Because despite everything that just happened…the race still needed to be finished. Charles would rather be in the ambulance with you than get back in his Ferrari and race on the same track that you had just crashed at. He wished the race didn’t need to be finished at all. But it had to. And if Charles had to race, then he was going to win. He was going to win for his little sister. 

~~~

Next to all the flowers and get well cards, on your hospital bedside table was a beautiful first place trophy. Charles barely stayed on the podium after receiving it, immediately heading to the hospital you were taken to once the celebrations were done. When he arrived, he was grateful to hear that you only had a sprained wrist, bruising and a concussion. He wished you weren’t injured at all, but compared to how crashes go, you got off on the better side. Charle’s sent another silent thank you to Jules, as doctor told him that the halo was one of the main things that prevented further injuries.

“I think I’ll purposely try to start from the back for the rest of the season.” You said while sitting up in your hospital bed playing Uno with Arthur. The doctors decided that you should stay overnight to monitor your concussion.

 “I think that may be a good idea.” Charles said as he sat next to you, watching the current card game take place. 

 “Or, you start on pole every race.  You don’t have to worry about being surrounded by the other cars if you’re already in the front.” Arthur said, placing a card down. 

 “Yea but then the only view Charles would get the whole race would be my rear wing and I don’t know if that’s a view he can enjoy every race.” You said. Charles rolled his eyes.

 “Maybe I should get the doctor to check your head again with all the nonsense you just spoke.” Charles said. “As I recall you’ve been chasing my rear wing throughout the seasons.”

 “Uno!” You declared, placing your second to last card down. “Please Charles, it’s only a matter of time before I beat you at a race. Like how I’m about to beat Arthur at this game.”

 “There’s no way you’re going to win. I know for a fact you don’t have any blues.” Arthur said, placing down a blue five. He gave you a sly smirk that quickly fell when you gave him one back. Without saying a word, you placed down a +4. 

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #platonic grid x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x driver!reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader

[vqlluna]

DRUNKEN TRUTHS ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

sober confessions p2

summary: both you and Remus hate each other, painfully eating away each other each time you're forced to see one another due to your shared friends. Now at a party, Remus can't keep his eyes from you. The truth comes out when you're drunk, right?

notes: f!rich!reader x poor!remus lupin, goody-two-shoes!reader x stoner!remus angst, jealousy, underage drinking, frenemies to lovers Remus is sassy

a/n: I'm forever obsessed with the rich jealous partying trope for no reason at all. Gossip Girl is influencing me too much.

YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHY YOU WERE AT THIS PARTY IN THE FIRST PLACE, you didn't need to come, this wasn't exactly your crowd. You were only friends with Lily, which soon turned into a tangled mess of being friends with her boyfriend and his friends. Because you'd never be at a party with low lives wasting their days away getting drunk and smoking weed.

That's the exact reason why'd you'd associated yourself with Lily Evans in the first place, up keeping her clean slate would keep yours clean as well. So when Lily refused to attend this party, despite the pleads from her friends and her boyfriends, why had you accepted the offer in her place?

You very well justified that you needed to socialize more, besides, being so uptight wouldn't get you any farther than it'd had now, it was time for a change. You weren't stupid of course, you made sure to bring someone along of who could get you home safely, someone of your status who had good morals and ideals, which all too entirely failed.

As James drove the three of you, you noticed his insistent pestering of your plus one. Now you sat pressed against this supposedly morally good guy, drunk, dizzy, and tired, so much so that you couldn't even feel the nips he'd been giving to your neck. You rambled on to James and Mary, who sat on the armchairs across you.

Both, relatively sober, found intense amusement in seeing you drunk with a guy all over you, which was amazingly out of character for yourself. Every now and then you'd look around the room in search of something frantically determined, the two teasing you on how your eyes were popping out of your head.

You looked across the room at Sirius and Peter miserably failing at beer pong, then to Dorcas and Marlene as they swayed to whatever tracks were booming throughout the room so loud you had a slight headache.

Taking in account everyone you knew was to be there, was when you realized why you were so confused. "Where's Lupin?" you mumbled, "Haven't seen him yet."

James, the closest to you than anyone else here, looked at you in surprise, "You want to know—Moony, huh?" he poked the inside of his cheek.

"I saw Remus earlier, dunno where he'd be," Mary answered, the both of you ignoring James' delight.

You hummed as the boy beside you pressed his lips to your cheek, "Don't need to worry about other guys now, baby," the boy whispered, and even though you cringed at the name you were too tipsy to care.

A burst of giggles and snickers erupted from behind you, James raised his eyebrows in even further interest than from what he expressed before after your comment, "There's the man of the hour!"

You whipped your head around, rolling your eyes at the lanky man who entered the scene, a girl attached to his hip, bottle in hand, and a cigarette in the other. He wriggled free from the girl's arms, still telling her to follow, as he did a smug dance of a spin, "Missed me too much, Prongs?"

James snorted and titled his head towards you, "No, but someone else did," he said, nuzzling his face teasingly at your scowl. Remus slowed his steps towards you all, and you could've sworn you saw a small disgruntled frown appear on his face for a moment as noticed you and your company.

He quickly smirked, "Now who let the selfish snobs in?" he yelled, no one else paying him no mind as he plotted himself, and the girl he was with on the other edge of the couch.

You scrunched your nose, his presence snapping you out of some of the daze you were in, "Does anyone smell that? There's just this intoxicating smell of lung cancer and ignorance, absolutely vomit-inducing if you ask me," you snapped.

"Poor thing, wouldn't want you puking all over your date, princess," he remarked, putting his arms around the shoulder of the gorgeous girl who giggled at his comment beside him.

You stomach twinged at the name, that all too easily rolled of his tongue, and his tongue only. And everytime, since the first time he'd said, started a roraing fire in your stomach.

━ "Lily, have you seen my mother's Chanel bag?" you whined barging into the room. You were hurriedly getting ready for a fancy dinner you were supposed to attend.

The red-haired girl shook her head sympathetically. You seethed at her answer, ignoring the weird stares from the others in the room, "My mother is going to murder me!" you yelped, "I need that bag!"

An annoying snicker echoed from across the room, "Is the poor princess finally going to get in trouble?" he crooned, "Told you that you needed to sharpen that memory," he tutted.

"Fuck you, Lupin." ━

You grunted, not able to find anything to bite back with. Remus smirked at your silence, directing his attention to your company, "So who's the wealthy, tasteless boggart you've dragged along?"

The boy beside you glared towards Remus, "Evan Rosier," he introduced, gritting through his teeth, "And we both have much finer tastes in both people and luxuries than you ever will."

"Maybe you do, in women at least," Remus started, and your cheeks grew slightly rosy at his insinuation, "But Princess here sure does have a knack for choosing the worst men to be with."

You scoffed, "And you're to be the best option? Someone so childishly obsessed with chocolate?"

He shrugged with a grin, "Well, yeah," he answered, taking the last swig of his beer before standing up and stretching his limbs. "You lot have fun, I'm off for another drink," he declared, stumbling his way to the kitchen as the girl hopelessly followed him.

You huffed, aimlessly sitting and now listening to Mary's rant, and you couldn't help but feel extremely suffocated. Your head continued to hurt and your mind swam. You took a sharp breath and jumped up from your seat, "Gonna get some air," you mumbled without another word.

You clutched your head as you pushed through the bodies of people. Slipping out into the backyard, you breathed while staring at your shoes as they danced around in your vision.

"Y'following me now are ya?" a voiced echoed out to your right.

Picking your head up, your eyes followed to source. You chuckled to yourself seeing Remus pressed against the wall, puffing smoke of a new cigarette into the air. "You wish," you said.

Taking in his disheveled hair, stained jumper, and sunken eyes, something in you paused. Your brows furrowed as your expression was somehow a mix of confusion and disgust. Remus tilted his head and cocked his eyebrow, rolling himself off the wall.

Suddenly your legs stomped toward him. "You're annoying, arrogant, and can't dress for the life of you," you spat.

Remus looked at you like he'd just watched a jester perform for him. "M'sorry, what was that?" he mirth, leaning down as he tilted his head towards you as to hear better.

You frowned and repeated yourself, "You're incredibly annoying, stupidly arrogant, terribly dressed, and I don't like you," you announced once again.

He removed his head only slightly away from you, still close enough as you felt his breath fan over your face from his wolfish smile. He brought the cigarette from his two fingers up to his lips as he inhaled and puffed out the smoke into your face.

Your face scrunched again in disgust as he stared at you intently, you awaiting his retaliation. "I find you incredibly gorgeous, stupidly charming, and terribly cute, and I surprisingly find a great liking to you."

Blush scattered across your face at his confession, a gulp climbing down your throat whilst you trailed off, "You...?" You were speechless, not expecting his words, the grass and scenery behind him blurring and swirling in the back.

Your eyes darted around the place, avoiding his own eyes before your chin was pinched between his thumb and index, forcing your eyes to bounce right to him, his cigarette still clenched in the same hand in the last of his fingers.

Not only had you not expected his confession, but you certainly didn't expect him to lean in, pressing his lips gently to yours. It quickly escalated as his hand moved to grip the back of your head, the other resting on your hip.

Your elbows brought up to at his shoulders, fingers tangled in his hair whilst you screamed to yourself to pull him away, you're body ultimately betraying you as they only pushed his lips farther into yours. That's when you found out that you were indeed, kissing him back.

Remus pulled away chuckling, letting your arms continue to sit on his shoulders. You breathed hard, staring at him with confusion with the newfound dizziness swimming around in your head. Your mouth was agape, ready to say something, but nothing came out.

"Merlin, if I knew just a compliment and a kiss could get you to shut up, I would've done that ages ago," he joked. Your face fell at the remark, your forearms brought down to his chest as you finally tried to push him away.

"Why'd you kiss me, you prick?" you sternly questioned, ignoring how rapidly your heart was beating. His hand still keeps you in place at your hip.

"Because I like you," he stated as if it were obvious.

You shook your head, letting a small laugh escape from your nose, "You're drunk, and you're high," you insisted.

"Truth comes out when you're drunk, right?"

You stood silent, begging to tell him no and denying the fact that you itched to kiss him once more. Though your lies weren't said, your truth was done as your lips soon gravitated back to his like a magnet.

Now instead of you being pressed against against the couch you were now found pressed against the concrete wall of the house, and your innocent need for one more kiss turned into necking.

A smirk from Remus continued to press on into the kiss as you two parted for air a quick second as you got in a whisper of "I hate you."

Purposely, on the next gasp for air, Remus cheekily echoed your words from earlier before, "You wish."

His cigarette was discarded to to floor as both his hands were now occupied at your hips, and both your own gripping at the sides of his face. While your back scrapped along the wall your hips were lifted away as his arms clawed them closer to his own.

His back bent over to reach down to you. Your mind flooded with the discovered thoughts and questions on how you were making out with Remus Lupin at a party, and how badly you'd wanted him for the past year.

Still, the two of you couldn't escape the quips murmured now and then.

"I knew I told you to sharpen your memory—but maybe instead you should sharpen your whole mind—if it took you this long to find out."

"Fuck you, Remus."

"I think you're in the process of doing that, yeah."

"Idiot."

"Brat."

You thought you might've drowned in his lips, if it wasn't for the parade of a voice. "Time to get going y/n!" James shouted, stepping outside.

Quickly, you pushed Remus off of you before James could catch you in the act. You felt as though you'd committed a crime.

Remus chuckled as he stumbled back, wiping your lip gloss off his lips. "Lily wants me home..." he slowed, seeing the mess of both of your guys' hair and your excessive blushing.

"Right, let's go," you readied, combing your fingers through your hair trying to fix it.

James nodded, disturbed and amused again, he slipped back inside. You panted heavily from your nose, staring at how Remus' eyes dashed across your face before they finally rested on yours.

"Best get going, Princess. You're carriage is ready and your palace awaits," he joked. You clamped your lips shut with your teeth, your stern lustful glare softened as you pursed your lips.

"Bye, Remus," you said with your arms crossed, turning on your heel you walked away, still feeling his eyes on the back of your head with his smug smirk.

As you crossed back inside you jumped at the sight of James waiting in anticipation by the glass door. "Bloody hell, James! Y'Scared the shit out of me!"

James snickered at you, "You and Moony?" he asked surprised and teasingly, though behind your backs him and Lily had counted the days when it'd finally happen.

You scowled and shook your head rigorously, "Absolutely not!" you opposed.

"Sure. And by the way, you reek of beer, smoke, and chocolate," he added cheekily, sparking the heat in your cheeks again.

"Piss off, Potter."

#remus lupin #marauders era #marauders #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #marauders fandom #the marauders #remus lupin x reader #Remus lupin angst #angst #enemies to lovers #jealousy #marauders fic #james potter #dead gay wizards