#Head Motor Company | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

menagerofmischief · 19 days ago

Text

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily.

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling.

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage.

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them.

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track.

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen.

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up.

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around.

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room.

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks.

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation.

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?”

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice.

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3.

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room.

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair.

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

“I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips.

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.”

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out.

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go.

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks.

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders.

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face.

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need.

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

934 notes · View notes

gguk-n · 2 months ago

Note

if you still take requests would you like to write an oscar x reader where they got to know by a coincident and the reader knows absolutely nothing abt f1 and also not oscar so when he was like I drive for f1 she was like wtf should I do with that information??

She doesn’t like cars

{Reader’s POV}

I met Oscar at a grocery store after I had moved to Monaco. The company I worked at were establishing a new branch here and wanted me to help smooth out the process. Who was I to say no to an opportunity of a life time? But being away from friends and family got very difficult when you enjoy being around people.

I only got the weekend off; so I had to make the best of the situation. I was grabbing milk at the grocery store when another hand grabbed the same carton. I looked at the tall, handsome man next to me; “I grabbed that first” I said. “Sorry” he quietly apologised and moved on. We kept running into each other in different isles and the more I stared at him and his toned thighs I found myself drooling. Well, it’s not everyday an attractive man keeps running into you. So, I did what any rational single woman would do and asked him out. To my surprise, he said yes. I doubt myself too much sometimes, I had thought.

We started going out on dates and spending time together. He was rich and had a pretty decent apartment he owned, from what I gathered. He must make quite a decent amount or he comes from money since he’s constantly away on what I assume are business trips over the weekends every few weeks. Did I ask what he did? No. Did he ask what I did? Not particularly. But I did give him my business card.

We were cuddling on one of these days while Oscar was raking his fingers through my hair; “You always help me feel normal” he whispered. “You make me feel rich” I giggled. “What’s mine’s yours babe” he retorted. “Sure, darling” I muttered. “I’ll be gone over the weekend, again” he said stopping his hand movement. “Again? Don’t you think your boss hates you or something with how much they make you go on trips or maybe they love you” I voiced my concern. Oscar laughed a deep laugh which sent vibrations through my body. “Baby, I know this year’s schedule has been a little more hectic with more races” he lamented. “What races?” I asked. “Formula One races” he replied quizzically. “What’s that?” I asked narrowing my eyes. “You don’t know?” He questioned. “Don’t make me feel stupid for not knowing” I whined.

Oscar sighed before speaking, “so, what you’re saying is all this time you had no clue that I was a Formula One driver?” he asked. “Do you test cars or something. I thought they had dummies for that” I quizzed. Oscar was now sat up an amused expression on his face. “No baby, I drive for McLaren” he explained. “Good for you?” I said slowly, I didn’t want him to feel bad about his job or the fact that I knew nothing about it. But since when did they pay test drivers so much?

Oscar started laughing, “that’s it. Take the weekend off. We’re going to Singapore” he announced. “Not this suddenly” I said. “It’s next week. We’ll fly together. Can’t have my girlfriend not knowing what I do for work” he announced kissing my lips.

My interest was piqued so I ended up googling Formula One. My jaw was on the floor when I realised that Oscar was one of the twenty drivers; he was crème de la crème when it came to motor sport. We’d been dating for a while and I knew nothing about what he did, no wonder he owned a place in Monaco; I couldn’t help but laugh. But in my defence my country isn’t huge on motor sports, so I’m sure Oscar can forgive me.

“You didn’t tell me you won 2 races” I announced after finishing dinner that day. “Oh! Did you google me?” He asked. “Nope, I google formula one and you were on top of the list for the previous race. Then I googled you” I explained. Oscar nodded. I sat down on Oscar’s lap, facing him. “Can’t believe you make so much money and let me pay for our meals” I said shaking my head. “That was one time and you insisted” Oscar explained. “Still” I whined. “Can’t wait to watch you win, people say you are really good” I smirked. “Yeah” he said. “Cocky much.” I laughed. “Maybe you can show me how good you are, now” I winked. “I can show you how good I am in everything” he smirked. “I love you, race winner Oscar Piastri” I said kissing him. “Love the ring of it. Gonna have to win more now” he whispered. “Can’t wait to watch you” I mumbled pulling him in for another kiss

925 notes · View notes

boiohboii · 1 year ago

Text

How would that keep us safe?

(Kimi Raikkonen x pregnant!wife!reader)

Inspo

When a formula 1 driver's car fails on them, they would a. be angry, b. go straight to their engineers, c. stay in the team's motor home.. but not kimi raikkonen, no sir, especially not with his pregnant wife on a yacht on her own.

in which Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber and Jenson Button make fun of the infamous ice man for being head over heels for his wife so he just decides to double down.

WARNINGS: not proof read (when do I ever proof read this stuff), no sense of timeline whatsoever, just a small crackhead fic that came to mind. Thank you insta algorithm for the Kimi edits, the man is so fine omg, solid dilf right here people.

Masterlist

"God," yn huffed as she, for an accurate description, waddled alongside her husband, Kimi Raikkonen into the Mclaren garage "if you don't keep it in your pants next time I will chop it off."

"Yes dear." Kimi replied with a smile on his face, hiding his laughter as best as he could to spare himself the lecture that would inevitably make him laugh harder- he can't help it, his wife is much more adorable trying to give him an earful with her puffed cheeks, stomping feet and her belly looking like it's about to pop at any second.

It hadn't even been 30 minutes before yn started to feel the heat getting to her, making her fan herself with the collar of her shirt while glaring at the fan that evidently did nothing to help her out.

"Everything alright dear?"

"No, no!" yn turned to look at her husband "it's so fucking hot i feel like my skin is melting off and your daughter wouldn't stop kicking my bladder so no, nothing is fucking alright!"

While the engineers around gulped, scared for their lives, Kimi bit his lips to avoid smiling at his very cute, frustrated wife. He had gotten used to her snapping at him whenever any little thing annoyed her, he knew it's the least he can do and she always apologises so no harm done really.

"It's okay, here, how about you go watch the race from the yacht? Will that be better?" Kimi whispered as he stood behind his wife with his hands underneath her belly, lifting it up to give his wife some rest.

"Oh my god," yn groaned in relief "I really needed that, I love you."

Staying like that for a few minutes, yn agreed that it would be much better if she watched the race from the yacht in her swimming suit, the atmosphere and the clothing would definitely make it much more comfortable for her. And just as she was about to leave, new company arrived.

"Ohhh, did he piss you off enough to leave him before a race?"

"Damn Kimi, don't make a pregnant woman that mad, especially not your wife."

The voices of Sebastian Vettel and Jenson Button joined the couple, along with the laugh of Mark Webber.

"Oh, shut up." As much as Kimi tells yn that he would rather eat chalk than willingly hang out with these guys, he is indeed fond of them.

"He didn't piss me off," yn pulled her husband down so she could kiss him, smiling upon hearing two of the three newcomers groan and a whistle (of course it's sebastian) "i just feel like I will burst any second so I am going to watch the race from One More Toy"

"What the fuck is one more toy?"

"Oh, it's kimi's yacht."

"Our yacht."

Placing one palm on her belly while his other rests on her cheek, Kimi smiled at his wife "be safe, yes?"

"Yeah, of course."

Giving her a kiss on her forehead, Kimi let go of his wife, watching her head towards his yacht with the help of one of the interns.

"Be safe." Came the mocking voice of Jenson Button

"I'll be so safe." Sebastian continued as they both reincarnated the way Kimi and Yn were standing a few seconds ago; Jenson's hands on Sebastian's stomach and cheek

"I'm going to kill you on this track."

Deciding to join, Mark stood in between Sebastian and Jenson, breaking up their proximity and placing his arms around their shoulders "but how would that keep us safe?"

"An engine failure, yet again from Mclaren."

"It seems like Raikkonen is the one who will retire this race, what a shame."

"Everyone was hoping for him to win this race, he had been phenomenal these past few races giving one stellar performance after the other, truly a waste to see him go this early into the race."

"Well, it looks like Kimi is going to walk to the garage."

"That is insane, it's like a 20 minute walk, no?"

"And we are back, and oh my god, there is Kimi Raikkonen in his yacht, he hasn't got a shirt on, with his wife on his lap, the father to be could not care less in this moment ladies and gentlemen."

"What a legend, the Iceman strikes again everyone, leaving the race to be on a yacht with his family. And oh my god, it seems that the couple are having the time of their lives on their yacht 'one more toy' with snacks all around and their hands all over each other."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #kimi räikkönen #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkonën #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen x wife reader #kimi raikkonen x pregnant reader #f1 smau #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au

2K notes · View notes

mymindisneverhere · 1 month ago

Text

FAVORS

warnings: 18+ MDNI!, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, explicit language, slight smut, a bit of a slow burn (forgive me if I missed any)

summary: Terry starts a new job at a warehouse after losing his life savings. He becomes acquainted with all of the workers except for one… the boss’ daughter.

Part One

“You alright over there Terry?”

“Yeah I’m good.” Terry responded.

He lifted the large boxes with ease, tossing them onto the back of the truck as they traveled down the conveyor belt. With each toss he’d let out a grunt, onlookers assumed it was from struggle but it was nothing other than frustration.

Terry had just secured a job at a local warehouse where he would load each delivery truck with boxes filled with parts for cars, motorcycles, trucks, etc. It was his only option after losing all of his life savings to a crooked police department.

Of course his experience in the Marines and his education made him a quick hire for the position. After a few weeks of orientation, training, and learning his new work schedule, he had fallen right in with the other workers who had been on the job for decades.

She watched him like hawk on the surveillance cameras, her freshly manicured tips tapping the sides of her coffee mug. She didn’t orchestrate any of the interviews or handle any of the paperwork that came with hiring people because she didn’t care to. She was solely there to do one thing and one thing only, find her next partner.

Terry had met all of the staff members on the job during his orientation. Supervisors, team leads, those with special assignments and floor workers, the same as he. There was only one person he had yet to meet, the CEOs daughter, Khloé MacArthur, the head bitch in charge.

MacArthur Motors and Parts Inc. was established in 1989 by a man named John MacArthur. There were a decent number of locations down south but his daughter only visited the ones closest to home. However Khloé visited very rarely, usually to spy on the workers and search for her new piece of meat.

She watched closely, observing his every move. Her eyes roamed from his face, admiring his naturally arched eyebrows, down to his full pink lips, his strong neck, and lastly to his chest that flexed every time he lifted a new box. The gray company shirt he wore wasn’t tight but it was no secret that when he wasn’t at work, he was in the gym religiously.

Jobs that require hard labor always had the perfect associates to fulfill her needs. Usually tall, muscular, a few tattoos and oozing masculinity. There was nothing she enjoyed more than making a big dog her bitch.

This new piece of meat she had her eyes on was nothing like she had in the past. He was pretty, no fuck that, he was beautiful. Everything about him fit perfectly in her sexual fantasy. She could see it clear as day in her mind, his big hands gripping her throat and that tight ass clenching every time he filled her up.

“Ms. MacArthur?” Olivia, the warehouse clerk and her personal assistant, called out to her, interrupting her thoughts.

“What?” Khloé snapped her head in Olivia’s direction, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Y-your father’s on the line ma’am, h-he wants to know if you can make it in t-time for dinner tomorrow tonight?” Olivia notified.

“I’ll pick it up.” She rolled her eyes, walking over to the phone. “Knock next time or that’s a write up!”

“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry.” Olivia stammered out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

She picked up the phone and smiled.

“Yes Daddy?” She answered in her usual sweet voice. The voice she used only for her father… and her prey.

“How’s my princess doing?”

“Fine, just doing my check-ins as usual.” She responded.

“That’s my girl, always making sure the business is running smoothly.” He said. “Have you found a date for the annual banquet?”

There it was, the real reason he was calling.

“No daddy, I don’t need a date for a family banquet.” She responded in a fake tone, trying hard to mask her irritation.

“Your sisters got her husband, your brothers got his finance, all of your cousins have partners. Do you want to be the only one there without someone for the third year in a row?” He asked, hoping to hit a nerve.

Every year the MacArthur family would get together and celebrate their accomplishments and achievements for the year. Some families had family reunions, hers had family banquets. They’d dress up in gorgeous gowns and tailored tuxedos just to feast in a ballroom reserved just for them, a few business partners and close friends.

However Khloé hated them because every year they reminded her of how lonely she truly was. The dates she had brought in the past didn’t make her feel seen or loved, they just enjoyed status. Witnessing her siblings and other relatives truly love and admire their significant others had her questioning her ability to be cherished and loved by someone other than family.

A husband wasn’t necessarily the end all be all for an ambitious and independent woman like her but she wouldn’t mind having someone to come home to every night. Someone she could truly be herself with.

“I’ll have to call you later Daddy, I’m busy right now.” Khloé said, trying to end the conversation.

“Okay princess, but I will see you at dinner tomorrow… alone I’m assuming?” He was pushing her buttons again.

“Goodbye Daddy.”

She slammed the phone down onto its receiver, making the cord bounce violently. She stared down at the brand new business phone, one she had begged her father to purchase. She wanted to upgrade the phones and computers in each warehouse. Just because the buildings were old didn’t mean the technology had to be.

After a few minutes of collecting her thoughts and attempting to bring her emotions back down to zero she went back to lurking from the small office window. She was beginning to come up with the perfect plan that would involve the perfect man.

“How long were you in?” Earl, a man in his late 50s, asked Terry.

“Four years.” Terry responded, continuing to toss the boxes like they weighed nothing. “You?”

“Man I went in in ‘85, saw all that shit they wanted us to do, told ‘em they could kiss my ass.” Earl stated unapologetically.

Terry couldn’t help but to laugh at the older gentleman. His thick southern accent made what he was saying ten times funnier than it actually was.

“I understand that.” Terry said.

“But you young bucks got the heart for that type of training,” Earl said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Me, I been a old nigga all my life.”

“Oh yeah?” Terry continued his laughter.

He genuinely enjoyed Earl's company, he was one of the first few people to introduce himself to Terry. It didn’t take long for him to warm up to the older guy, seeing as though his extroverted personality made him so many friends.

The long conveyor belt had stopped, letting them know that it was time for lunch. They tossed the final boxes onto the truck and slammed the back closed before walking away from their stations.

“How long you been here?” Terry asked, placing his hands on hips.

“20 years.” Earl responded.

“That’s a long time man.”

“Who you tellin’?” Earl joked. “I remember when this company first started. I didn’t think it would last long. A business like this ran by a black man in the south? I just knew them white boys would tear this place to shreds.”

“What you think stopped them from doing that?” Terry asked.

“The same thing that’ll make anybody do something they don’t necessarily agree with-,” Earl looked over at Terry with a surprised expression “-money.”

“Olivia!” Khloé called, approaching the large desk that sat right at the front of the building. The words “MacArthur Motors and Parts Inc” plastered on the wall in big red letters.

“Ma’am?” Olivia answered, tearing her eyes from the computer screen.

“Who is the new guy?” Khloé leaned onto the desk trying to keep her voice low so the employees passing by wouldn’t hear her.

Olivia turned to the file cabinet on her right, stuffed with folders designated for each employee in alphabetical order. She scanned her slim fingers covered across the tabs before landing on his name.

“Richmond.” She said proudly. “Terry Richmond is his name.”

Khloé took the folder from her hands, flipping through each page carefully. She immediately began heading back to the office to figure out how she was gonna go about getting him.

“Ms. MacArthur, I actually need that to finish his new hire forms.”

“I’ll handle it!” Khloé yelled from down the long hallway.

“Thanks?” Olivia said in a confused tone.

The break room was becoming empty as workers began to head back to their stations. Terry kneeled down to get the water that had gotten stuck in the vending machine, putting up a bit of a fight to retrieve the beverage.

She stepped into the break room slowly, not wanting him to hear the loud click of her expensive pumps. The muscles in his back flexed as he tugged on the water. Finally getting it from the bottom of the machine, he still hadn’t noticed her standing there. She planted her feet together, standing just a few feet away from him.

“Terry, right?” Khloé asked.

He turned his head to see her feet first, his eyes trailing up her body and landing on her face. She stood there, hands behind her back, a small smile on her red colored lips. The black suit dress she wore fit her petite frame perfectly and her thick black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail topped her business attire.

“Yeah and you are?” He said looking up at her with a raised brow.

“I’m Khloé,” She answered, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He stood, his movement seemingly in slow motion as he grew taller and taller, eventually towering over her. He took her hand and shook it suspiciously. He couldn’t think of one reason why a woman like her, dressed the way she was dressed, would be in a warehouse wandering around.

“Khloé MacArthur, I’m the owner's daughter.” She said, hoping to rid him of the obvious skepticism she saw in his expression.

“Oh, Ms. MacArthur.” He said in surprise, immediately changing his expression. “My apologies, you scared me for a moment there.”

“No need to apologize. I’m usually traveling, I’m hardly ever here so I understand.” She assured him, staring into his eyes.

She held onto his hand longer than she planned to, not noticing until his eyes darted down and back to her face.

“I’m sorry-“ She said, finally letting go of his hand. “-it’s just, your eyes are so beautiful.”

Terry looked down, blushing a bit.

“Thank you.” He said, returning his eyes to hers.

“You hear that a lot, I’m sure.”

“I do.”

“When did you start? I know I haven't been here in a while but I’d definitely remember seeing your face.” Khloé asked, shifting her weight onto her left leg.

“A few weeks ago actually.” He answered.

The eye contact was almost intimidating but Khloé wasn’t a woman who folded easily, even standing in the presence of this Earthly God.

“How you liking it so far?”

“It’s good. I’m still getting used to the scheduling, a lot of coffee in my diet lately but it’s pretty cool.”

“Not an early bird, huh?”

“No ma’am.” He turned to look back at the clock on the wall and she took this quick moment to get a close up of his chest, flexing as he turned. She bit down on her bottom lip before he could notice.

“I hate to be rude Ms. MacArthur-“

“Khloé” She interrupted.

His lip folded into a slight grin. “Khloe, I have to get back on the floor, my lunch is over. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She smiled up at him as she watched him walk away, her eyes scanning the back of his body.

“That is an ass on that man.” She whispered to herself before heading back to her side of the warehouse.

4 hours later

“Another day, another couple hundred dollars, young blood.” Earl announced, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “You got plans for tonight, you know it’s “Free shot Friday’s” down at Frankie’s?”

“Nah I’m good man, I don’t drink much.” Terry said, placing both of his arms into the straps of his backpack.

“You know Terry’s a good guy-“ John, another man shouted from behind the two of them. “-he ain’t no drinker or smoker.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, that’s why he built like a gladiator and we walkin’ around with beer bellies.” Earl joked, receiving laughs from the other men in the locker room.

Terry chuckled, placing the last of his work items into his locker before leaving the locker room. The only thing left for him to do was clock out for the evening and head home.

“I see y’all boys on Monday, y’all be safe.” And with that Terry left the locker room, heading to his truck.

He reached into his pants pocket to grab his badge and swiped it across the small box designated for clock-ins/clock-outs.

He exited the building walking to his truck, relieved to be at the end of another workday. He searched his pockets for his keys unaware of the pair of eyes that had been on him the entire time he spent in the parking lot.

She watched the TV screen closely, each quadrant displaying different areas in the building and parking lot. It had been two years since she had been with anybody but this was the first time she had this type of craving for someone.

Sure she had flings here and there but this longing was so strong, she could practically feel him inside of her already. Like his energy was pulling on hers, begging her for connection.

Khloé could still smell his scent, the mixture of cologne and sweat as if he were standing right behind her. She could still see the thick veins in his arms, permanently in her memory. She couldn’t wait to find out if he had those same veins on his dick, licking her lips at the thought of feeling him along her tongue.

*Knock Knock*

She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts and grateful for it.

“Come in.”

“The night shift are all clocked in and at their stations, are you ready to go Ms. MacArthur?” Olivia asked, her large purse hanging off of her shoulder.

“Yes, let’s go.”

Khloé grabbed her purse, her keys and Terry’s employee work file and headed out of the office.

She paced back and forth in her living room, biting the insides of her cheeks. Her feet sank into the white plush rug as she read over the pages for the 10th time, trying to piece this man together.

She had been looking over Terry’s file for the past hour now. She studied every page, every background check, every piece of information they had on him but unfortunately it wasn’t much.

Walking over to her computer, she wiggled the mouse and slammed herself into her large desk chair that sat against her window. The heavily lit view of downtown shined lights through her windows along with the full moon up in the sky as she began her research.

“Terrance Richmond, former Marine, Born June 7, 1994.” She whispered to herself, typing each word as she spoke.

‘He’s 30, perfect.’ She thought.

She searched his name to see if she could find him on social media.

No Twitter.

No Facebook.

No Instagram.

“Who the fuck is this man?”

She continued searching, scrolling for what seemed like hours until she stumbled across an article for a small town called “Shelby Springs”. The article titled “Ex-Marine Exposes SSPD” caused her invisible antennas to perk up.

‘Former Marine, Terrance Richmond, helps stop corruption invading Shelby Springs. After officers unlawfully seized $36,000 from Richmond, the last of his savings intended for posting bail for his late cousin, Richmond took matters into his own hands. One man gets justice for himself, his cousin and others who were wrongfully convicted.’

“So he’s some sort of hero?” She licked her lips, smirking to herself. The fact that this one man had gone to war with a police department full of cops and won made her nipples hard.

She could feel the gears in her head begin to turn as she finished reading the article. Learning about his time in the Marines and him being trained in martial arts, he was the perfect candidate for her future escapades.

Images flashed in her mind. Images of her hands against his bare chest as she rode him, the view of him looking down on her while she went down on him, him sitting back and watching while she played with herself. Each scene sent a shiver down her spine. She crossed her legs tightly rubbing her thighs together to create a pleasureful friction.

Khloé didn’t want to fully pleasure herself just yet. She knew the build up would be so worth it, she could feel it. She needed to contain her desire for an orgasm. She wanted to be sure that he was the one to give it to her.

Shutting down her computer, she closed his file and placed it on the counter next to her purse. She went into her bathroom and started the shower turning the knob to the far right to make the water cold.

After about 15 minutes of washing up and bringing her arousal back down she prepared for bed. She got into her large queen sized bed, topped with a thick white comforter and smiled to herself…

so her mission begins.

to be continued…

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre x black fem reader #aaron pierre x black reader #rebel ridge #terry richmond #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black!oc #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond x oc #terry richmond x black female reader #Terry Richmond x black fem reader

251 notes · View notes

what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew · 11 months ago

Text

BOYCOTTING FOR PALESTINE

The Official BDS Boycott Targets

Campaigns

Block the boat: End maritime arms transfer to Israel

Ban Apartheid Israel from Sports (FIFA, Olympics)

CAF get off Israel's train: Boycott CAF

Greenwashing Apartheid

Israeli Spyware

Military Embargo

Farming Injustice

Consumer Boycotts - a complete boycott of these brands

Cisco

Axa

Puma

Carrefour

Siemens

Chevron

Intel

Caltex

Israeli produce

Re/max

Ahava

Texaco

Sodastream

Intel

Organic Boycott Targets - boycotts not initiated by BDS but still complete boycott of these brands

Disney

Macdonald's

Dominos

Papa Johns

Burger King

Pizza Hut

Wix

Divestments and exclusion - pressure governments, institutions, investment funds, city councils, etc. to exclude from procurement contracts and investments and to divest from these

Elbit Systems

CAF

Volvo

CAT

Barclays

JCB

HD Hyundai

TKH Security

HikVision

Pressure - boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure.

Google

Amazon

AirBnb

Booking.Com

Expedia

Teva

Here are some companies that strongly support Israel (but are not Boycott targets). There is no ethical consumption under capitalism and boycotting is a political strategy - not a moral one. If you did try to boycott every supporter of Israel you would struggle to survive because every major company supports Israel (as a result of attempting to keep the US economy afloat), that being said, the ones that are being boycotted by masses and not already on the organic boycott list are coloured red.

5 Star Chocolate

7Days

7Up

Apple

Arsenal FC

ALDO

Arket

Axe

Accenture

Ariel

Adidas

ActionIQ

Aquafina

Amika

AccuWeather

Activia

Adobe

Aesop

Azrieli Group

American Eagle

Amway Corp

Axel Springer

American Airlines

American Express

Atlassian

AdeS

Aquarius

Ayataka

Audi

Barqs

Bain & Company

Bayer

Bank Leumi

Bank Hapoalim

BCG (Boston Consulting Group)

Biotherm

Bershka

Bloomberg

BMW

Boeing

Booz Allen Hamilton

Burberry

Bath & Body Works

Bosch

Bristol Myers Squibb

Capri Holdings

Costa

Carita Paris

CareTrust REIT

Caterpillar

Coach

Cappy

Caudalie

CeraVe

Check Point Software Technologies

Cerelac

Chanel

Chapman and Cutler

Channel

Cheerios

Cheetos

Chevron

Chips Ahoy!

Christina Aguilera

Citi Bank

Codral

Cosco

Canada Dry

Citi

Clal Insurance Enterprises

Clean & Clear

Clearblue

Clinique

Champion

Club Social

Coca Cola

Coffee Mate

Colgate

Comcast

Compass

Caesars

Conde Nast

Cooley LLP

Costco

Côte d’Or

Crest

CV Starr

CyberArk Software

Cytokinetics

Crayola

Cra Z Art

Daimler

Dr Pepper

Del Valle

Daim

Doctor Pepper

Dasani

Doritos

Daz

Dior

Dell

Deloitte

Delta Air Lines

Deutsche Bank

Deutsche Telekom

DHL Group

David Off

Disney

DLA Piper

Domestos

Domino’s

Douglas Elliman

Downy

Duane Morris LLP

Dreft Baby Detergent & Laundry Products

Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream

eBay

Edelman

Eli Lilly

Evian

Empyrean

Ericsson

Endeavor

EPAM Systems

Estee Lauder

Elbit Systems

Forbes

Facebook

Fairlife

Fanta

First International Bank of Israel

Fiverr

Funyuns

Fuze

Fox News

Fritos

Fox Corp

Gatorade

Gamida Cell

Glamglow

General Catalyst

General Motors

Georgia

Gold Peak

Genesys

Goldman Sachs

Grandma’s Cookies

Garnier

Guess

Greenberg Traurig

Guerlain

Givenchy

H&M

Hadiklaim

Huggies

Hanes

HSBC

Head & Shoulders

Hersheys

Herbert Smith Freehills

Hewlett Packard

Hasbro

Hyundai

Henkel

Harel Insurance Investment & Financial Services

Hewlett Packard Enterprise

HubSpot

Huntsman Corp

IBM

Innocent

Insight Partners

Inditex Group

IT Cosmetics

Instacart

Intermedia

Interpublic Group

Instagram

ICL Group

Intuit

Jazwares

Jefferies

John Lewis

JP Morgan Chase

Jaguar

Johnson & Johnson

JPMorgan

Kenon Holdings

Kate Spade

Kirks’

Kinley Water

KKR

KFC

KKW Cosmetics

Kurkure

Keebler

Kolynos

Kaufland

Kevita

Knorr

KPMG

Lemonade

Lidl

Loblaws

Levi Strauss

Louis Vuitton

Life Water

Levi’s

Levi’s Strauss

Land Rover

L’Oréal

Lego

Levissima

Live Nation Entertainment

Lufthansa

La Roche-Posay

Lipton

Major League Baseball

Manpower Group

Marriott

Marsh McLennan

Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Mastercard

Mattel

Minute Maid

Monster

Monki

Mainz FC

Mellow Yellow

Mountain Dew

Migdal Insurance

Marks & Spencer

Mirinda

McDermott Will & Emery

Motorola

McKinsey

Merck

Michael Kors

Mizrahi Tefahot Bank

Merck KGaA

Micheal Kors

Milkybar

Maybelline

Mount Franklin

Meta

MeUndies

Mattle

Microsoft

Munchies

Miranda

Morgan Lewis

Moroccanoil

Morgan Stanley

MRC

Nasdaq

Naughty Dog

Nivea

NOS

Nabisco

Nutter Butter

No Frills

National Basketball Association

National Geographic

Nintendo

New Balance

Nutella

Newtons

NVIDIA

Netflix

Nescafe

Nestle

Nesquick

Nike

Nussbeisser

Oreo

Oral B

Old spice

Oysho

Omeprazole

Oceanspray

Opodo

P&G (Procter and Gamble)

Pampers

Pull & Bear

Pepsi

Pfizer

Popeyes

Parker Pens

Philadelphia Cream Cheese

Pizza Hut

Powerade

Purina

Phoenix Holdings

Propel

Ponds

Pure Leaf Green Tea

Power Action Wipes

PwC

Prada

Perry Ellis

Prada Eyewear

Pringles

Payoneer

Procter & Gamble

Purelife

Pureology

Quaker Oats

Royal Bank of Canada

Ruffles

Revlon

Ralph Lauren

Ritz

Rolls Royce

Royal

S.Pellegrino

Sabra Hummus

Sabre

Sony

SAP

Simply

Smart Water

Sprite

Schwabe

Shell

Soda Stream

Siemens

StreamElements

Schweppes

Sunsilk

Signal

Skittles

Smart Food

Sobe

Smarties

Sephora

Sam’s Club

Superbus

Samsung

Sodastream

Sunkist

Scotiabank

Sour Patch Kids

Starbucks

Sadaf

Stride

Subway

Tang

Tate’s Bake Shop

The Body Shop

Tesco

Twitch

The Ordinary

Tim Hortons

Tostitos

Timberland

Topo Chico

Tapestry

Tropicana

Tommy Hilfiger

Tommy Hilfiger Toiletries

Turbos

Tom Ford

Taco Bell

Triscuit

TUC

Twix

Tottenham Hotspurs

Twisties

Tripadvisor

Uber

Uber Eats

Urban Decay

Upfield

Unilever

Vicks

Victoria’s Secret

Vaseline

Vitaminwater

Volkswagen

Volvo

Walmart

Wegmans

Waitrose

Woolworths

Wheat Thins

Walkers

Warner Brothers

Warner Chilcot

Warner Music

Wells Fargo

Winston & Strawn

WingStreet

Wissotzky Tea

WWE

Wheel Washing Powder

Wrigley Company

YouTube

Yvel

Yum Brands

Ziyad

Zara

Zim Shipping

Ziff Davis

774 notes · View notes

twilightkitkat · 14 days ago

Text

What if Worst Wolverine was the same Wolverine from Origins? What if he learned that "Deadpool" Wade Wilson was "Weapon X" Wade Wilson?

Inspired by this ask.

---

When Logan first met Wade in the bar, he felt oddly familiar. Like he knew him, but he couldn't quite place where. He felt nostalgia and regret and something else bubbling up to the surface without his consent. It felt foreign, and he brushed it off when he sobered up. But he kept it in the back of his mind.

But he kept being familiar. His voice, the way he fought, his mannerisms... it was all reminiscent of somebody he felt he should know. Someone long gone.

But it couldn't be, right? All of his old teammates were dead. If this world followed a similar timeline, there's no way this could be someone he knew. He must just be grasping at straws. Delusional, as usual.

It all came to a head a few weeks after the dust had settled. Wade and Logan were drinking together in their apartment, and Wade lopsidedly grinned at Logan with flushed cheeks. Logan felt his heart stutter.

"You know, you were just as cool back then," Wade giggled. "You looked good when you were younger, though I think the silver fox look fits you more with the grey streaks."

Logan frowned. "What do you mean when I was younger?"

"C'monnnnn Wolvie," Wade cooed as he leaned his head against his hand. "Back when we were in the Weapon X program together? I mean, we might not have been the best of buddies but it's kind of mean of you to forget about me."

It's like a part of Logan's brain unlocked. Wade fucking Wilson. Of course Logan remembered him, but he was so different that Logan had never made the connection.

Logan had a complicated relationship with Wade. He both respected him and thought he was a nuisance. Wade's skills were undeniable, but so was his motor mouth. Logan groaned in annoyance most of the time, but Wade's quips had managed to pull a snicker out of him on more than a few occasions. He tried to feign annoyance, but despite what people said, Wade was funny. His jokes were one of the only things that brought any life to the dreary and harsh environment.

Back then, Logan had still been tangled up with Victor and didn't let himself get too close to others (for both his own and their sakes). Still, Wade had found him in the corner of a bar a few times when the rest of the team was partying. He'd sat next to him and just... kept him company. He rambled on about inconsequential things, avoiding the more serious topics. He offered a distraction, a reprieve from the constant violence and solemn atmosphere. Logan appreciated it more than he could convey at the time.

And on the rare instances where Logan wanted to talk, Wade listened. Even if it was drunken gibberish, regrets and frustrations and feelings spilling out into the open. More notably, he didn't report him for having second doubts about the missions. Anyone else would've. Logan didn't do friends back then, but he'd consider Wade the closest thing he had to one.

And then Logan had quit. And left behind his teammates, cutting off all chance of further development. And then Logan had returned, but too late. By then, Wade had been turned into that... thing... by Stryker.

Oh god. The thought of it made Logan want to throw up. Wade, always chattering, with his mouth stitched shut. A mindless drone made to obey orders, a complete antithesis to the man who bent the rules and smiled privately at Logan when he rambled about what could be interpreted as treason. A mockery of everything he stood for.

That Wade was... the same as his Wade. Deadpool was Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson now was the same Wade Wilson from back then.

That means in his world, he'd let Wade down. He'd abandoned him and left him to be experimented on. Worse, he'd killed him. Logan killed Wade.

Fuck. The reason he didn't recognize Wade in the bar was because his was long dead. A clone that he himself had killed.

He looked at Wade, blushing and smiling with adoration in his eyes even as he feigned indignation at Logan not remembering. He looked at Wade and imagined him trapped in his own body, personality erased and gone. He imagined him with his mouth sewed shut, never to speak again. With a flat and empty stare instead of the twinkle in his eye.

Wade had saved him from himself. He'd given him a new home and fought for him to keep it. He'd been willing to die for Logan when nobody in his own universe would so much as look at him. Logan owed him an insurmountable debt, one that he couldn't even begin to repay in this lifetime. But he was trying. To make Wade happy, at least. It was his purpose in this world and would continue to be until Wade decided to throw him out or he finally kicked the bucket.

So the realization that he'd failed his own Wade so horribly made him viscerally ill. Even back then, Wade had been the only one to really see him when nobody else did. When even Victor just looked for a distorted reflection of himself and when everyone else wanted a mindless tool, Wade acknowledged Logan.

In a time when Wade didn't owe Logan shit, when he could've gotten in trouble for being complicit if Logan actually went through with what he said, Wade still protected him. And Logan didn't even think to check up on him in return. (Even when he knew Wade checked up on him. The Tylenol and water beside his bunk didn't appear out of nowhere. He didn't even remember climbing into bed before he passed out.)

Logan left him to die. Logan let Wade die. Wade, who was smart and funny and charming and caring and everything Logan was not. Wade, who had all of that stripped from him while Logan got to keep living. Logan, who took that chance and spat on Wade's fucking grave by ruining it all.

Logan wanted to throw up.

#kitkat #poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool movie #wade x logan #wade/logan

157 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 11 months ago

Note

Rick/reader/Daryl are a throuple and the Alexandria residents don’t know how to react.

.⋆｡Her Poor Cat｡⋆.

Daryl x plus size reader x Rick

Obviously the Alexandrians were pretty vanilla

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and smut, bit of a crack fic, humour, fluff

WC: 900

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The welcome party was an interesting touch to the new-comers. It was so weirdly reminiscent of the old world with the nice clothes and good food and alcohol but at the same time, many in the room carried that haunted look in their eyes from the hell just outside the walls. But the food was fresh and the company was pleasant enough.

Carl had scrambled off a couple minutes ago, presumably to try and sneak some whiskey behind his father’s back, leaving you alone with a sleepy Judith perched on your wide hip. Her chunky hand tightly clutched at your shirt as her big blue eyes fluttered.

“Mama.” She muttered, nuzzling further into your hold. You gently cupped the back of her head and began to sway softly.

“We’ll leave soon, just need to find your dads and make sure they don’t get into any trouble.” Your eyes skipped over the crowd but you were quickly stopped by someone coming up beside you.

“It’s so good to see healthy children during these times.” Deanna seemed less focused on you and more on the now half-asleep child in your arms, which you were incredibly grateful for considering that your poker face wasn’t as good as it used to be and she legitimately freaked you out.

Judith grumbled as you hitched her higher on your hip. “Judy is an easy baby, pretty much eats anything that gets put in front of her.” You chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“You and Rick must be very proud of your kids.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, it’s not-“

A strong arm was suddenly wrapped around your thick waist and you were tugged back into their hard stomach. The scent of cigarettes and motor oil filled your senses as Daryl’s lips brushed against your earlobe. You watched as Deanna went pale, obviously coming to her own conclusion about your relationship with the archer.

“I-I didn’t realise, given how affectionate you are with the kids, I thought Rick was your partner.” You could feel Daryl’s broad chest rumble with discontent.

“So what if he is?” The noise from the party faded away to a faint whisper as all eyes turned to you. Internally, you groaned, vowing to get some sort of revenge on your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry?” Deanna seemed genuinely confused but you knew that whatever was about to come out of Daryl’s mouth would not serve to lessen that feeling.

With your free hand, you dug your fingers into his hip, urging him to shut the hell up but like always, Daryl refused to listen. “So what if we’re both fucking her?”

And there it was. Your body sagged with embarrassment as heat raced up your neck, blooming across your cheeks. “You fucking asshole.” Your group all seemed to be holding back their laughter as the Alexandrians were suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Carl groan loudly from somewhere behind you. “Not again.”

“Both of them?” Spencer materialised beside his mother, jaw practically on the floor. “At the same time?”

Just as Daryl’s mouth opened once more to very rudely answer the mayor’s son, Rick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. His grip was light enough to appear friendly but the way his fingers curled into his collarbone kept the other man silent. “What Daryl meant to say is that we are all in a relationship together.”

You then made the mistake of making eye contact with Maggie and Carol who both seemed to be on the edge of suffocation as they desperately tried to stop giggling. You glared at the women and got back a rather rude gesture from Carol that restarted their laughter anew.

“I think I need to get Judy to bed.” You tried to pull away from Daryl’s grip but the stubborn man he was, he just held you tighter.

“How does that work?” The question came from a woman towards the back. You could practically feel Rick’s smirk as he cleared his throat but very quickly, another woman decided to answer for him.

“Obviously they take turns.” A murmur of agreement filled the room followed by- “Oh her poor vagina.” This makes Glenn snort into his drink.

With a horrified look on her face, Deanna spoke again. “This is highly inappropriate.” Yet no one seemed to hear her because someone else piped up.

“I can’t believe that she isn’t pregnant all the time.”

“I think that’s enough of that! Thank you all for the wonderful party, but we really should be going now.” Your voice boomed, starling Judith awake but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. Daryl went easily enough as your fingers clamped down on his wrist and you pulled him along, although there was a prideful smile on his lips.

But Rick had other ideas. “It’s not like we don’t try every chance we get.” Faster than you thought you were capable of, you dropped Daryl’s hand and your arm darted out, grabbing Rick’s ear with a force that made him visibly flinch.

“I said that’s enough.” You snarled and tugged him towards the front door, Daryl trailing close behind you. “Goodnight.” The door slammed shut behind you, leaving behind a room full of stunned Alexandrians and your friends who were all laughing loudly.

“Well, I guess that cleared that up.” Deanna murmured and took a long pull of her drink.

TWD Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen

TWD

@Becausedarylsaidso @hopefulatrocity @originalsourpatch @eternalrose81 @hc-geralt-23 @Theantisoci-alone @mandythemint @certifiedhunter @thequeenreaders @honkytonkbabe

Rick Grimes

@minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @blasianbitch @l9ckheed @tinyinfluencerharmony @capsheadquaters @stabmemaybe @marvel-mistress @bking4000 @graciespies @sydsicr @ambassadortotrilliusprime @mewlingoizys @darleneslane @oxymorondemon @brittney69 @Theantisoci-alone @memphiscity69 @wada-kru @daytej @answer-the-sirens

Daryl Dixon

@springdandelixn @goobysgoobers @ruinedbythehobbit @joyfulfxckery

513 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago

Text

A friend of mine, who we'll call Shaky Tim because that is legally his first name after an accidental fire at the City Hall records department, is a data scientist. That's a fancy name for someone who works with Microsoft Excel all day. No, not like your job, you barely take Excel out of first gear. Shaky Tim rides that shit like a racehorse.

Big companies pay people like Shaky Tim a lot of money because they have a lot of data. In fact, when you're a big company, it's often more expensive to decide not to record data. They just let customer information, sales reports, advertising feedback, what have you accumulate in a big pile. Then data scientists go through it and boil the whole mess down to a nice report that executives can ignore.

I asked him once, while we were heading to the junkyard to pick up some Dodge Caravan heads, why he got started doing it. He had read a novel, he explained, where the main character had some kind of weapons-grade ability to identify inflection points in data. It was a cool story, but he (Shaky Tim) never thought it could draw him away from his then-career, being a high-flying business type person. He worked for General Motors, or something, I wasn't really paying attention.

That's when his Learjet crashed in the mountains, and he was forced to stay with some friendly monks for the entire winter. Through hard work and meditative repetition, he learned their ways, which had nothing at all to do with data science. When he got back to New York City, though, he discovered that his employer had fired him for not showing up for work for a few days. So he got a book from the library about how to make Microsoft Excel go faster, and now he can make cool charts and need more RAM.

Overall, the most important thing I've learned from Shaky Tim's second career as a math-wielding corporate magician is that you should never throw anything away. Just keep accumulating it in the basement, and eventually someone will come by, crunch the numbers, and tell you that you can save a whole shitload on storage costs by throwing all that stuff away.

#best of

1K notes · View notes

nasa · 1 year ago

Text

For the Benefit of All: Assistive Tech Developed from NASA Tech

What do modern cochlear implants and robotic gloves have in common? They were derived from NASA technology. We’ve made it easier to find and use our patented inventions that could help create products that enhance life for people with disabilities.

October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month, which highlights the contributions of American workers with disabilities – many of whom use assistive technology on the job. Take a look at these assistive technologies that are NASA spinoffs.

Low-Vision Headsets

The Joint Optical Reflective Display (JORDY) device is a headset that uses NASA image processing and head-mounted display technology to enable people with low vision to read and write. JORDY enhances individuals’ remaining sight by magnifying objects up to 50 times and allowing them to change contrast, brightness, and display modes. JORDY's name was inspired by Geordi La Forge, a blind character from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” whose futuristic visor enabled him to see.

Cochlear Implants

Work that led to the modern cochlear implant was patented by a NASA engineer in the 1970s. Following three failed corrective surgeries, Adam Kissiah combined his NASA electronics know-how with research in the Kennedy Space Center technical library to build his own solution for people with severe-to-profound hearing loss who receive little or no benefit from hearing aids. Several companies now make the devices, which have been implanted in hundreds of thousands of people around the world.

Robotic Gloves

Ironhand, from Swedish company Bioservo Technologies, is the world’s first industrial-strength robotic glove for factory workers and others who perform repetitive manual tasks. It helps prevent stress injuries but has been especially warmly received by workers with preexisting hand injuries and conditions. The glove is based on a suite of patents for the technology developed by NASA and General Motors to build the hands of the Robonaut 2 humanoid robotic astronaut.

Smart Glasses

Neurofeedback technology NASA originally developed to improve pilots’ attention has been the basis for products aimed at helping people manage attention disorders without medication. The devices measure brainwave output to gauge attention levels according to the “engagement index” a NASA engineer created. Then, they show the results to users, helping them learn to voluntarily control their degree of concentration. One such device is a pair of smart glasses from Narbis, whose lenses darken as attention wanes.

Anti-Gravity Treadmills

A NASA scientist who developed ways to use air pressure to simulate gravity for astronauts exercising in space had the idea to apply the concept for the opposite effect on Earth. After licensing his technology, Alter-G Inc. developed its anti-gravity G-Trainer treadmill, which lets users offload some or all of their weight while exercising. The treadmills can help people recover from athletic or brain injuries, and they allow a safe exercise regimen for others with long-term conditions such as arthritis.

Wireless Muscle Sensors

Some of the most exciting assistive technologies to spin off may be yet to come. Delsys Inc. developed electromyographic technology to help NASA understand the effects of long-term weightlessness on astronauts’ muscles and movements. Electromyography detects and analyzes electrical signals emitted when motor nerves trigger movement. Among the company’s customers are physical therapists developing exercise routines to help patients recover from injuries. But some researchers are using the technology to attempt recoveries that once seemed impossible, such as helping paralyzed patients regain movement, letting laryngectomy patients speak, and outfitting amputees with artificial limbs that work like the real thing.

To further enhance the lives of people with disabilities, NASA has identified a selection of patented technologies created for space missions that could spur the next generation of assistive technology here on Earth.

Want to learn more about assistive technologies already in action? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #space #tech #technology #spinoff #robotics #physical therapy #disability #disabled #accessibility #a11y #inventions

839 notes · View notes

lelelego · 6 months ago

Note

is there a canon ending you have in mind for Eli and Boone?

god yeah. i'm gonna put this under a cut because it turned into a long one. this is not just the ending but the stuff leading up to it. word vomit galore

just want to reiterate this is all in my insaneo mode head and simply fnv eli's timeline as far as i'm concerned

in a nutshell eli decides an independent vegas is ultimately the best for the residents. he has a hard time deciding between an ncr rule (a somewhat more organized freeside and new vegas, and potentially more resources aside from energy), but seeing firsthand the idiocy operating under the monolith, incompetence, and corruption, does he decide to help the followers of the apocalypse establish control over the area with the help of the king, since julie farkas and the king are both actual people of authority who the people of freeside respect.

when eli tells boone he's not going to help the ncr, boone's conflicted. he's been following eli around because (1) eli makes good on his promise re:fighting the legion, (2) eli is a legion magnet because caesar + lanius hate his guts and keep sending hit squads after his ass, and (3) he genuinely thinks eli will die without him. (none of this is related to the fact that boone enjoys his company, obviously. not even a little bit. obviously.) he's torn between the ncr, the only system he knows, and the person who stands as the trigger of the largest political change in the region. is he responsible for changing this person's mind? does he want to change eli's mind? he doesn't know shit about the ramifications of the ncr leaving, nor the ncr staying. is he just following orders again? despite what happens at bitter springs (hopeful ending) he can't really let the idea of the nation he grew up with go.

so at the end of second battle of hoover dam, the ncr gets chased out (mostly). eli still doesn't really know where boone stands regarding the ncr, because for all his talk and bluster he doesn't want boone to dislike him for prying (which has happened already before). forgive him, he's got a big fat crush that won't go away on the guy. he's tired. he's hungry. he's thirsty. but all he can do is think, "boone's going to follow them back." which is when the picture above happens. he snaps back to his senses obviously, because what right does he have to ask something like that?

but boone stays. eli goes to talk to julie and he's there. eli sits at the tops in benny's workshop for days, programming and reprogramming systems for the securitrons and tinkering with finer motor controls and he's there. eli negotiates with the crimson caravan and he's there. eli is confused but yknow. what is he going to do talk to the brick wall of a man about his feelings??

boone sees what eli does for the people of freeside. even helps, sometimes, even though the only thing he thinks he's good at is killing. he thinks, is this what being better is? is this what amends are? but like a reoccuring rash he gets the Itch. thinks about the ncr. about manny. they could enlist back into first recon, easy. he goes back to novac to look over things he'd left there, things he used when he'd freshly left first recon, spends the night in his old room.

only he can't sleep. he can't sleep because he can't hear the sound of eli playing some shitty video game on his pipboy. he can't hear eli and veronica arguing over which snack is the best for the road, or eli tuning ED-E to different frequencies to see what he can pick up. he can't see eli going to the bathroom what feels like every 5 minutes because of his wacked out digestive system. he can't hear eli cursing as he tries to take off his leg brace only for something to get stuck, and then him rustling around for his tools, not being able to find the right one, and then jamming whatever he can find in the joint to get it unstuck.

so he goes back to new vegas, and when he sees eli's smile when eli sees him, dirty and sweaty from working, he knows it's an easy choice to make.

(yes they eventually do h*ld h*nds. when is that? i don't know. when IS that. someone tell me please)

after that eli and boone stay in vegas for a bit to get everything as stable as possible, even though it's an uphill, impossible challenge, and then i think eventually eli's curiosity would get the better of them when he's a little older and he'd leave to find different things to prod and look at with boone at his side :^)

#asks #anonymous #are they ever gonna be official.................... who knows......#lego talk #oc: eli #craig boone #fallout tag #doodly thingy

173 notes · View notes

shybluebirdninja · 9 days ago

Text

FADING BONDS: PART 2

Summary: Two broken souls—Logan, an aging hero, and a young woman overlooked by her own family—find solace in each other’s silent company, forming an unexpected connection that challenges their emotional walls.

Pairing : UberDriver!Logan x Fem!Reader

Genre : Angst, Fluff

It’s funny how silence can start to feel like company. You’ve been riding with Logan more often now, enough that you know his truck better than you’d like to admit.

The way the passenger seat squeaks if you shift just a little too much, the faint smell of old cigarettes and something like motor oil, and how the heater barely works, so you’ve taken to bringing a jacket even if the night’s warm.

He’s still as closed off as ever, his gruff demeanor acting like a shield against any real conversation. But there’s something about the way he drives, something about the heavy weight in the air between you, that feels... familiar.

Like the two of you are on the same wavelength. No questions, no forced smiles, no bullshit. It’s a strange, fragile kind of comfort.

One night, after your shift, you climb into his truck. He glances at you, eyes flicking up and down like he’s just making sure you’re still breathing. Not that he’d ever admit he cares.

“Busy night?” you ask, more out of habit than anything else.

“Same shit, different day,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly. His hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles taut, like maybe if he squeezes hard enough, he can keep the world from crumbling around him. “Kids puking in the back, people yellin’ at me ‘cause I’m ‘too slow.’ You’d think drivin’ was easy for these assholes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Sounds like a blast.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ dream,” he grumbles.

And that’s it. That’s all you need to say. There’s a comfort in the way Logan doesn’t push, doesn’t prod. Everyone else—your parents, your sister, hell, even the occasional friend—they always want to know more.

They want updates on your life, your career (or lack of one), your plans for the future. They don’t get it. They don’t understand that sometimes, it’s enough just to exist.

With Logan, there’s no pressure to be something you’re not. No expectations. Just two people, broken in different ways, sharing space without needing to fill it with bullshit.

The drives continue. Night after night. Sometimes you’ll trade a few words, sometimes not. Logan’s grumbles are often the only sound breaking the silence, usually about how “kids these days don’t know shit” or how “people can’t drive for crap.” You’d laugh if it weren’t so damn true.

But every once in a while, he’ll let slip something from his past. It’s always brief, like he’s catching himself before he says too much.

“Used to know a guy,” he mutters one night. “Real pain in the ass... but smart. Smartest guy I ever met. Could’ve done a lot more if the world hadn’t chewed him up and spat him out.”

You don’t ask who. You don’t need to. You’ve heard enough by now to piece together fragments of the puzzle. You know about the loss, the pain, the countless people he’s watched die, one way or another.

There’s a heaviness in his voice that tells you this guy, whoever he was, meant a hell of a lot more to Logan than he’ll ever admit.

The nights bleed together. You start finding reasons to see him more. Sometimes you’ll tell yourself you’re just tired of the bus, or that you’d rather ride with someone who doesn’t force small talk. But deep down, you know it’s more than that.

There’s something about Logan—something that pulls at you, like you’re both just two lost souls floating through the same fucked-up world.

One evening, you catch him parked outside the diner after your shift, though you haven’t called for a ride yet. He’s leaning against his truck, cigarette hanging from his lips, staring off into the distance like he’s a million miles away.

“You waitin’ for someone?” you ask, stepping out onto the curb.

Logan glances at you, doesn’t bother with a smile or any of the niceties people usually fake. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” you murmur, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The air’s cool tonight, biting at your skin. “Mind if I bum one of those?” You nod towards the cigarette between his fingers.

He grunts but hands you one, along with a beat-up lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not really.” You light the cigarette anyway, taking a drag and coughing a little as the smoke burns your throat. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Logan chuckles, low and almost imperceptible. “Figured.”

You both stand there in the quiet, leaning against his truck, watching the night stretch out before you like some endless void. The city lights blink in the distance, casting a faint glow over everything.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what life’s supposed to be—just one long stretch of nothingness, broken up by small moments that don’t really mean anything.

“Why do you keep drivin’?” you ask suddenly, breaking the silence.

Logan doesn’t answer right away. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, eyes focused on something far beyond the here and now. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, almost resigned. “Ain’t much else I’m good for these days.”

You don’t know why, but his words hit harder than you expected. You’d always seen him as this untouchable force—someone who’s been through hell and came out the other side, bruised but still standing. To hear him say he’s got nothing left... it stirs something inside you. Something painful.

“Feels like we’re both just tryin’ to survive, huh?” you say quietly, staring at the ground.

Logan glances at you, and for a split second, you swear you see something flicker in his eyes. Something vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t respond, just takes another drag of his cigarette and tosses the butt to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “Something like that.” You stand there a little longer, both of you too broken, too tired to say anything else. There’s nothing to be said. Not really.

92 notes · View notes

scoutswritingcorner · 7 months ago

Note

Hear me out. Chauffeur takes the vees out in one of their sports cars and someone on the road challenges them to a race.

What are the reactions from each of the vees?

Drag Racing

PolyVees x GN!Reader

TW:Valentino and the mentions of some NSFW

A/N:YES YES- MORE CHAUFFEUR READER

Let me preface this with you know better than to listen to some demons who think they are better than the Vee’s but also..you know every back road and fastest route around Pentagram City. It’s like you have a digital map in your head, also it’s very easy to remember when traffic gets heavy.

Stick with me here cause I know nothing about sports cars or anything of the like and I’m not going into specifics cause I’m too stupid for that shit. But- all three have different tastes in cars, especially personal cars.

Vox likes the new high tech sports cars while he can appreciate the looks of old cars. I feel like he likes Lamborghini’s mostly. He has many of his signature colors, but if he wants more privacy (especially if he gets overwhelmed) I’m thinking he has an Audi.

Valentino Most definitely likes the classics but can appreciate the modern versions. He mostly does have classic cars like the cars made by the Morgan Motor company. It has that old classic look that he absolutely eats up all the time. But he does have a few Ferraris’ all of them having some sort of his signature colors to it. He doesn’t let ANYONE except you drive his cars cause he knows while it’s your job- that you do take care of them and if something comes up they are immediately fixed by the best people.

Velvette is a Mercedes-Benz girlie, she has the least amount of cars out of the three. She can appreciate the look of it and loves how the roof can collapse (if that's the word Idk). She can also appreciate BMW's. She's not a hater (yes she is..shhh).

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE PLOT-

You were driving the Vee’s around one day and a demon drove up next to the car, their vehicle tricked out to well..hell and back. Sadly for you, you had your window rolled down so you were able to hear all the curses and name calling before the taunts started. You looked over to the Overlord next to you, wondering what to do cause this person would not shut the fuck up.

They all have different reactions from this but either way, they find it so fucking hot that you can easily beat someone’s ass in a race without having to gloat about it. Also the way your eyes lock in on what you're doing and how your jaw locks? If you weren’t kicking someone’s ass in the race all three would probably jump your bones.

If you're with Vox he’ll most likely tell you to ignore them which you do easily unless he’s in a mood. Then he lets you race the idiots trying to one up him, he’s not scared. He has more confidence in you winning than he does in himself.

Valentino…is a different breed. He will allow you to race against someone and he will gloat about it, but the only rule is it can’t be in one of the Morgan cars cause he will actually fucking kill you if you race in that car, those are his relaxation around Pentagram City cars. The Ferrari's? He couldn’t give a shit about, don’t be afraid to mow people down if they get in the way too. He has his hand on your thigh the whole time as well.

Velvette does care but if she’s annoyed enough by the person she will look at you and give you the go ahead, she will livestream the whole time too. Just don’t hit anyone or anything cause she will throw a huge fucking fit, that’s her car.

Once you win the race? Oh boy, get out a gloat for a bit cause the others surely will. Even if you didn’t demand money, they will. Most likely Valentino will kill them or destroy their car.

Vox will pull you in and tell you how he didn’t have any doubts about you losing.

Valentino will more than likely use this as a way to get you to sleep with him or he will try to put moves on you the whole ride back to the tower.

Velvette is gonna be kissing up on your face and leaving lipstick stains all over your face and then going online to tell everyone how you were the best.

A/N: IF YOU WANT MORE PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Tag List: @aboyscriminalrecord, Come get some food bestie-

191 notes · View notes

nonclassyparty · 4 months ago

Text

sweet and right and merciful (c.s)

summary:

(A STARRING ROLE SPIN-OFF) Choi San deals with the mortifying ordeal of falling in love.

playlist (tba) // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

notes; i bet you thought you'd seen the last of both me and sr!san well you're wrong! tell me if you want to be added to the taglist

snippet;

As he didn't have a disgustingly large amount of generational wealth to back him up nor parents who dabbled in political meddling and occasional blackmail like some of his peers, San always knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail for his spot in the world.

This would seem fairly overdramatic if all he was seeking out of life was a stable job and paid bills, of course: he was, after all, the son of a middle school teacher and a man that had several jobs which he never did right because hey, they never had much so San should've been satisfied with anything.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one would look at it), Choi San was too ambitious for his own good. Having been born and raised in the small town of Namhae which was nothing more than an old supermarket some (nobody under the age of fifty) considered a shopping mall and a small beach - the moment he left for college, he swore that he'd never be back there again for nothing more but the holidays. And simply leaving Namhae wasn't enough, no, you see San's goal was money, more money than he would ever need. Bitterness could be considered a man's biggest motivator to get something done and spending his childhood and early adolescence watching his mother work day and night to make sure the bills are paid just for no money to be left spare sure did make San bitter. Call him shallow and materialistic but to San, money most definitely could buy some happiness.

And so, with that thought in mind (placed by no-one else but himself) since the tender age of twelve when he first visited Seoul for a football game and saw what exactly he's been missing out on living in Namhae, San poured everything he had into his studies until he landed a scholarship for Seoul National University in the field of Electrical Engineering. He had been strategic in his choice of career. Electrical engineering required just enough work and brains for it to be considered a lucrative degree and used just enough engineering principles to keep him interested in the job.

And San was excellent at his job. He was quick and efficient, precise and absolutely never wrong. Getting hired to work at one of South Korea's most renowned automobile manufacturing companies not long after he got his degree didn't come as a surprise to no-one. He was competent. The problem with competence and climbing the business ladder though was that it was rewarded with increasingly complex projects almost every month.

And so, our opening scene: A Thursday morning, sometime in January. Amidst the white cubicles on the third floor of Zenith Motor Company, Mr. Kim was doling out new projects to his top engineers with a vengeance.

"Jung, this ones for you," He smacks Jaehyun over the head with the folder before dropping it unceremoniously on his desk, "And try not to get doughnut smudges all over this one."

"Byun, you're continuing the testing from last month." Jaebum nods his head, eyes barely moving from the computer screen in front of him. Mr. Kim continues with an eye roll, "Lim, new model that needs surveillance."

He continues down the room throwing down casefiles as he goes until he stops by San's desk with a smile, "Choi, since you did so well on the Genesis project I'll let you choose."

"What are my options?" San asks, leaning back in his chair as two files are thrown onto his desk.

Mr. Kim looks down onto his clipboard. "Mr. Jinyoung needs help with the 3D design for-"

Mr. Jinyoung is one of San's bosses.

"-the new model that we're ready to turn in for production. You could send him an e-mail but I wouldn't, he's a bit...difficult to be around these days."

Mr. Jinyoung is also the husband of one Son Danbi, the thirty-four year old woman that San got...very familiar with for a groundbreaking six times at his apartment before he learned that Danbi is a bit too clingy and his job actually might be at stake if she keeps calling the office asking for San instead of her husband. Three times in a row.

She didn't handle San deciding it's best to stop seeing each other very well.

Getting fired for sleeping with his boss' wife and probably getting his nose broken (for the second time over a woman) when his boss' wife inevitably has a meltdown and exposes how San fucked her into his mattress six times once San refuses to meet up with her out of newfound respect for the man she's married to (read: he's scared that he'll get sacked) or literally anything else. The choice was quite obvious.

"I'll take the second option." San quips with ease as he flips over the folder.

"Research and development for a new model! I was hoping you'd pick that one and am not disappointed, you never back down from a challenge." Mr. Kim comments with a grin that San returns because he's been kissing his ass too long to stop now. "You're working with another engineer from the second floor."

San nods and, as Mr. Kim keeps going down to the next cubicle, his eyes sweep over the file and stop at the bottom of the page where one out of two people tasked has already signed their name. In neat handwriting;

Y/L Y/N

He bites back a groan, eyes falling shut and he can hear the Head of the office keep rattling off assignments somewhere in the background.

Nothing registers because suddenly, San remembers honey skin, judging eyes and a sharp tongue and wonders if getting his nose broken a second time right before getting fired by Mr. Jinyoung and losing his entire career would've been the wiser option.

#san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #choi san x reader

111 notes · View notes

kanguin · 8 days ago

Text

Ideal show:

Slow paced adult audience portal fantasy anime where a shutin dies in an accident, unfulfilled, unaware of who he really is, but is reincarnated into a fantasy world with a demon king situation. Standard fare. However, instead of getting going right away, the protagonist stays depressed and doesn't even attempt to start the quest he was given until he meets a high energy local adventurer lady, and through helping out with a sudden incident in town, protag and the adventurer form the first true friendship he's ever had. He finds her attractive, but doesn't say as much, as it he quickly finds out via a run in with her ex that she's a lesbian. Turns out, this magical world is enthusiastically and normalizing-ly accepting of queer people, and that actually comforts him greatly for some reason, even though he's pretty sure he's a straight guy; must just be happy for the people here.

His new friend encourages the him to go on and start the quest to defeat the demon king. It's a long journey, and will take years, but if he's prophesied to be the hero, then he's the only one who can do it. There's just one problem, the one prophesied to kill the demon king is a woman. Surely then he must have just misheard, clearly he must have been summoned to HELP the hero, which while disappointing and less glamorous, eases the burden somewhat. So the two gear up for their journey, and the protagonist purchases a magical item from a shop, a bracelet said to help the wearer reach their true potential. If that potential is heroism, it helps you build muscle and strengthens your bones. If that potential is music, your dexterity and fine motor skills slowly improve. Whatever change needs to be made, will be made. So surely, if a nobody like protag is taking to help defeat the demon king, that will be necessary.

The two set off, heading through more and more difficult areas as their quest takes them toward the heart of evil. Slowly but surely, protag gets stronger and faster, hell this bracelet is even smoothing out his skin. With his friend's help, protag slowly catches up to her, but not before she advances further. His adventurer friend has flings from time to time, but this doesn't really bother him, he's just happy she's happy. However the adventurer is getting confused, because she's certain she's not into men, but sometimes the light catches her friend's eyes, or glows off his hair, and she feels... Funny.

As time passes, protag's hair gets longer, from many uncut months, but it's also getting denser and more voluminous, and his hand, despite getting stronger wielding shields and swords, are also getting softer. Maybe the bracelet is trying to sighal to him to live a quiet life? But hey his stomach's getting flatter, even if it's all just shifting down to his thighs. Eh, must be there to build muscle, right?

(more under cut, this started out as a simple wishlist of ideas but ballooned into a full vague framework of a story)

But slowly, this new world challenges the protagonist on facts he took for granted. He meets people who were born one way, only to find they would rather be another, and starts to question what it even means to be a man, or if it even meant the same thing to him as other men. It means nothing to him though... Slowly, he stops trying to prove his manliness at times, and just, wants to be himself. But he's starting to question who he even is; new experiences keep making the protagonist think back to their old life, and reanalyze some things they never gave any time of day. Suddenly they're relating less and less to men, and really, truly feeling happy in the company of women. Perhaps it's just because men bullied them?

Meanwhile, the protagonist is looking... Prettier? And smiling when they see themself in the mirror? They're normally a sad snarker, but their adventurer friend is starting to be thrown off guard by their genuine joy along the journey. And... Kind of attractive, but holy shit what??? They're a guy, she doesn't swing that way, no way.

By the time they're halfway to the demon king's castle, they're greeted at a tavern as two "young ladies". Which throws the two of them for a loop, because clearly there's only one girl here, right there. Sure, the protag is pretty androgenous, always have been, so the mistake is easy to make, but... Wait have they always been androgynous? No they were clearly just some out of shape guy when they got here, why would getting in shape from a magic bracelet make that less defined. And that's when the two remembered.

The bracelet works off of the true self, the full potential of a person.

The two get a room at the in and realize they NEED to talk about what this means. The adventurer is excited, but protag is just confused. The adventurer shouts in joy that protag must be destined to ge a girl, that's why the prophecy seemed off. In a panic, protag checks their pants... Okay little buddy is still there. This, however, makes their friend crack up laughing. She's in hysterics at why they think becoming a girl means that would change. Sure, most girls have a vulva, she has one she says, but not all girls do. And if your truest, most ideal self still has a dick, there's no reason it would go anywhere.

Sure, they've been happier lately, and no longer hate seeing their face in mirrors, but do they really see themself as a girl? Wait, they've not really been referring to themself as a guy in a while, and somewhere along the line "he/him" just got dropped without them even noticing. Why does this suddenly put a lot of things from the past into context? Why does that feel like a weight off their increasingly heavier chest? Changes like this, so gradual you don't even notice, so right they just feel natural... maybe this is what they needed. Maybe this is what they've always wanted. Maybe when they arrived in this world, they weren't exactly the hero of legend, but maybe... maybe they want to become her?

This introspection greatly relieves their friend, who had grinned and bared that she must have stumbled into the responsibility, but never truly felt right taking the chosen hero's role just because of a little gender incongruence. Then again, everything about the backwards, if technologically advanced, world her friend came from makes sense why they just assumed it must be her instead.

When the pair got back on the road again, the two adventurers were working in better sync than ever. The friend native to this world started peppering in feminine terms when talking to and about the protagonist. She'd comment on "her" hair, ask a blacksmith to repair (and adjust) "this fine lady's armor". When the terms would hit a nerve, she'd back off, but slowly, the terminology started to make the protag smile sheepishly.

The protagonist wasn't the only one who was changing, of course. While both were becoming more skilled adventurers as they took on bigger and bigger missions, the more seasoned of the two found herself sitting closer on benches to her friend, stealing glances at night when they brush strands of hair out of their face, having to look away when the tent curtain isn't fully closed when the protagonist starts changing... Oh my god she's into her. Them. Whatever. At least protag isn't a guy after all?

The two of them pick up other party members along the way; some stay for a while, some leave, but by just after halfway there they're a pretty consistent team of four, and the other two are certain there's something between the co-leaders, but hell if they're going to poke that hornet's nest of drama, they have to hear the two of them fretting fruitlessly to themselves when the other isn't around as is.

2 years into the journey, and just looking at the protagonist, there's no clue she could have ever been mistaken for a man. Mere months from the demon king's castle, and she's gone from a joke the hordes can't take seriously to a fearsome warrior you don't approach, lest she strike you down with her blade or her crossbow-wielding situationship takes you out first.

Despite all the battlefield confidence, however, the protagonist and her oldest companion in this world still rest at a stalemate, where each have formed a wall of excuses for why they shouldn't approach the other about how they feel. Fighting is easy, navigating feelings is complicated, especially when the circumstances today are different from when they first met years ago. The demon king is mere months away, the party is ready to take him on, but that's bizarrely ever the topic of conversation. The mage and cleric find it not only amusing, but also reassuring, as if navigating complex social barriers is their biggest concern, then they're probably going to be just fine.

That is, it's funny until it's gone on for 3 years, the captain's a clueless virgin, the co-captain stopped having hookups over a year ago, and both are pent up to high heaven.

Then one day, just before they get to the demon castle, the impending threat cracks the surface of the tension, and the protagonist confesses to her companion, even though she knows her friend only dates women, she just has to confess. To this, her friend calls her an idiot for not realizing that isn't an issue, it hasn't been for a long time. She does reciprocate those feelings though, she was just worried the protagonist had long ago written her off as an option after she made it clear she wasn't into men, even though things had changed. In relief, the two laugh, sob, and hug, before pulling away into a long overdue kiss.

The party, newly resolved of tension, gathers their materials, and lays absolute shit into the demon king. The three years that it took to get here had honed all of them into fine warriors, but most of all the protagonist's bracelet had made her into the perfect weapon to slay the evil tyrant. With a decisive slash, the absolute evil that had plagued this land was now without his head, and the hordes of his armies that witnessed this cowered in fear of their defeat.

It would take many more years before the rest of his forces in the land outside the path the party cleared were stamped out, but the root had been thoroughly ripped out and the land could heal and rebuild without threat of absolute destruction for once in many millennia. The protagonist and her "best friend" would go on to get married, and after a few more years helping stamp out the dark army's remnants, the two would settle down in a small town, open a shop, and most of all be happy.

Maybe they stay monogamous, maybe they find a third person they both fall in love with. Maybe they eventually open the relationship but have each other as their anchors they always come home to. Maybe just the one from the magical world originally goes back to hookups on the side with her wife's blessing. I don't care how it's handled (though shirking monogamy in a story is always welcome), but I need a story like this put to animation in my lifetime. Maybe I might write my own story off this framework someday, fleshed out into a full narrative with actual names and locations, but if something like this gets put into production, which is a pipe dream I know, I would truly die happy. I love portal fantasies and their opportunity to explore a world unlike ours, and the opportunity for fish-out-of-water tales that help the protagonist grow into a better version of themself bring me so much joy. So to take this genre that is so often male wish fulfillment, and make it something that reflects my fantasies as a queer trans feminine person, it would just make me so happy.

I hope what I wrote is enjoyable by anyone who reads this, and I sincerely hope I don't have to mute this post from terf backlash or something. If you got to the end here, thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart.

#fantasy #isekai #short story #creative writing #kanguin original #trans #transgender #transfem #trans girl #trans woman

77 notes · View notes