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no-144444 · 3 months ago

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my girl- (o.piastri no.81)

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summary: fans made an edit of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader (no.28)

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Oscar Piastri being in love with Y/n Y/l/n for 15 minutes straight, and vice versa (F2 -> F1)

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Clip 1: Prema video

Bahrain Airport, F2 season beginning, March.

“And here we have the 3 year reigning champion of the Indycar Junior series, making her F2 pivot, Y/n Y/l/n!” Rob cheered as he woke you from your nap on the plane.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pushing the camera away with a chuckle. “I'm tired, leave me be.”

“The plane is landing, idiot!”

“Hush!” you laughed. “That means ages until we get off, get your camera away Rob!”

Rob and you had gotten the same flight from London, and you’d become fast friends. He was eccentric and overtop, but a good laugh. You were sure you looked crazy. 6 hour flights do that to a person. You and Rob chatted to the camera about the weekend, and you introduced yourself to the Prema fans. Not many people gave a shit about Indycar, and even less cared about Indycar junior.

As you disembarked the plane and got through security, people stopped you and Rob for photos and whatnot, then you finally got out of the airport. Angelina was standing there with a camera and a big ‘welcome’ sign, and another two very tired teenage boys beside her.

“Y/n!” she cheered, pulling you both into a hug. “Rob!”

Little did you know, Rob’s camera was pointed at Oscar, who turned to Fred with a shocked expression and whispered: “She’s gorgeous.”

Beside him, Fred chuckled. “Go for her.”

“No way I have any chance with her, I-”

“I can hear you, y’know?” you cut in, coming over to introduce yourself.

He went redder than a tomato, and you all just laughed.

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Clip 2: Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, 27th of March

“And it’s No. 28 who sees the chequered flag first, the rookie, and the only girl on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n! Pole position in her first race!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, congratulations,” your race engineer, Pedro, beamed as you crossed the finish line.

“Motherfuck Guanyu is fast mate, we need to watch out for him- oh, and the other Alpine boy that was trying to flirt with me, what’s his name?” you answered. The Prema garage was full of laughter as you outed Oscar.

“Oscar Piastri? No.2,” Pedro chuckled. “He failed to flirt with you?”

“Well, bless him, he tried to,” you chuckled as you parked the car. “He’s cute though.”

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“That’s P6 Oscar, and just to let you know, Y/n Y/l/n has outed you on the radio and on live television saying that you tried and failed to flirt with her,” his race engineer said.

Oscar laughed, finding the situation funny. “My mum’s going to tweet about that.”

“She also called you ‘cute’, if that helps with any bruised ego?”

Oscar’s face lit up under his helmet. “It definitely does,” he chuckled. “Thanks mate.”

“I’d wingman you any time,” he chuckled.

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Clip 3: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy, April.

“Hello everyone,” Robert smiled at the camera. “Today we will be going for a drive, I’d better call Oscar in.”

Oscar sat in the passenger seat and did his belt as they caught up and told the viewers what they’d be watching.

“So, today, you will be joining us for a drive around the Italian countryside,” Rob smiled. “And we will be answering your questions.”

“Let the questions begin,” Oscar added. He pulled one out of the bowl and read it aloud. “Who’s your favourite Prema team member?”

Rob smiled. “That’s hard, I love the whole Prema team so much, but… yeah, that’s hard. Maybe my race engineer, Fred? I get along quite well with him,” Rob giggled as Oscar nodded.

“What?” Oscar laughed.

“I know your favourite,” Rob smirked.

Oscar looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

“La tua ragazza,” Rob chuckled as Oscar rolled his eyes. “What? It is true! You love her!” (La tua ragazza = your girl in Italian)

“I’ve met her once, mate!” Oscar laughed.

“So you don’t like her? I can ask her out?” Rob deadpanned.

“Well, no, you can't-” Oscar was cut off by Rob’s laughter and he decided to stop trying to fight him about it. Everyone on the team knew that Oscar Piastri was infatuated with you.

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Clip 4: Georgie O’Hara’s deleted youtube video.

Haileybury and Imperial Service College, England.

“Ok, that’s an awful idea!” Oscar yelled over his friends. “They already know you’re the ones doing it!”

“It’s fine! It’ll be fine!” Elijah, a good friend of his, smiled. They wanted to set off the fire alarms again, for the third time that week. Deodorant and stupid teenage boys did not mix, especially when they refused to put it on themselves and waste it on fire drills instead.

Georgie turned to his phone, addressing the viewers "Oscar's a goody-two-shoes, if you couldn't tell."

Suddenly his phone rang from an unknown number, and before he could leave it ring, Anthony (another friend of his) answered. “Oscar Piastri, incoming F2 champion’s phone, how may I help you?”

Oscar laughed, but suddenly stopped when he heard you.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you chuckled at his friend. “Anyways, can you just ask him to ask Elijah not to do the fire alarm thing between 11pm and 2am? The girls in my room and I are sneaking downstairs to watch a film and we don’t really want to get caught.”

Oscar covered his face and groaned, then took the phone off Georgie. “Hey-hi, Y/n. Yes, of course, we won’t do the fire alarm thing, ever again. Sorry.”

He turned his back as his friends made kissing noises and certain gestures at him.

“All good, thanks Osc,” you smiled. “You and your friends are welcome to join us if you want.”

Oscar could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. “I’ll ask them,” he smiled. He turned to his friends. “Y/n’s inviting us all to a movie, we’re sneaking out tonight,” he informed them.

“I don’t want to-” Anthony started, but Georgie silenced him with a kick to the shin.

“Mate, this is Oscar’s one fucking chance with his girl, shut up,” He scoffed.

“Is that a yes?” You asked over the phone.

“Yes!” they all answered.

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As the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more tired. Oscar was beside you and you could tell how he was trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. You could practically see the way his heart leapt out of his chest when you held his hand. As ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ ended, you squeezed his hand before getting up and letting go.

“Alright, I’ll clean up, everyone else go back upstairs before you get caught,” you whispered. The ‘movie room’ as the students called it (it was technically the staff room but no one really cared) was a mess. Blankets, cups, wrappers and pillows were everywhere. The group slowly shuffled out as you were left with only Oscar. Georgie had forgotten about his camera and it was still recording where he’d put it down to get some shots of everyone watching the film.

“I can help,” Oscar whispered.

You shook your head. “Seriously, you go ahead. They already hate me at this school anyways,” you chuckled.

“Please let me help?” he asked again. You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to his puppy dog eyes, could you?

“Fine,” you smiled.

You two chatted quietly as you cleaned up the room, and finally met at the door to leave.

“I really enjoyed tonight-” You started, but you were cut off by Oscar kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck once the initial shock wore off. You both pulled away after a few seconds. You stared up at him as his usually-blank face turned to one of panic.

“Sorry if that was forward, or-or weird- or-” He started, but now it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

He pulled back smiling, and he didn’t move his hands, or try to move away from you. There was a moment of silence. “Can I take you on a date?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

Oscar was elated.

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Clip 5: Sky sports channel and Prema footage

Circuit de Monaco, Monaco, Monaco, May 22nd.

You were excited as you stepped onto the podium, victorious. It had been a difficult few laps at the end, Guanyu overtaking, then you overtaking, and over and over, but you got the chequered flag first. You were breaking records, breaking barriers as a woman in motorsports. You’d won Monaco, your first time racing there. In the Sprint, and the feature race. You were on top of the world. As you raised your trophy, the crowd cheered and Oscar was cheering the loudest.

You looked to your left, him standing on the podium for the first time this season, and you smiled.

“Feels good, huh?” you smirked.

“Feels great, but I’ll be coming for your step next,” he smirked.

“You wish Piastri,” you scoffed, then uncorked your champagne bottle and sprayed it on him and Zhou.

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Clip 6: Sky Sports channel, Prema footage

Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, 17th of July, Sprint Race.

“And it’s Y/n Y/l/n into the wall in a bad collision with Liam Lawson, only 2 laps till the end!”

Everything was in slow motion, one second you were in control, the next you were flipping into the wall.

“Red flag, red flag Oscar, huge crash in sector 3, come in, come in,” his race engineer said.

“Who was it?” He asked, slowing his pace.

“Y/l/n and Lawson, straight into the wall.”

“Is she ok? Is she out of the car?” he asked calmly.

“Not yet,” he answered grimly. The Prema garage was eerily silent as they watched the stewards struggle to get you out of the car.

As he came up on sector 3, he saw you. The car was upside down leaning against the barrier, they were putting out the fire. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You and Oscar had been dating for a few months now, and he really liked you. He passed by in horror as he saw that you weren’t out of the car yet. He was getting more and more nervous as the moments went on. He caught sight of Liam. He was out of the car. He beckoned Oscar over and he obliged, letting him hitch a ride back to the pitlane with him as he drove slowly. As they got back to the pitlane, they both jumped out as the race was finally deemed as cancelled, and the boys walked off, waiting for news.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was a total mistake, my car had mad fucking oversteer and I just hit the throttle too hard, and then she was in the wall,” he answered. “She’s not even out yet.”

“She’ll be ok,” Oscar said, trying to convince himself as well as Liam. “She’s strong.”

Liam nodded, and went off to the RedBull garage with his head held low. Oscar walked into the Prema garage and his mom immediately pulled him in for a hug. Beside her was your parents, looking terrified.

“You’re ok, thank god,” she whispered. She didn’t care about the multiple cameras pointing at them, her son was alright.

“Is there any news yet?”

“They’ve pulled her out of the car,” your dad answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Is she responsive?” Nicole asked.

“Yes!” You race engineer answered, happy that you were alive. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the garage. “Complaining about lower back and leg pain, as well as a definite broken arm. She won’t be racing for a while,” he added, his tone becoming more and more sombre. Oscar watched as your mother broke down in your father’s arms, and he felt like throwing up. You wouldn’t be racing, you wouldn’t get to do the thing you loved.

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Clip 6: Prema video

ASST Brianza - Vimercate Hospital, 18th of July.

You woke up in blinding pain a few hours earlier. Everyone had worked so hard to make everything ok, to make you comfortable, but all night all you did was sob. The pain was unbearable in the car, you thought you were going to die, you thought you weren’t getting out of the car. 5 fractured vertebrae, 3 broken ribs, a fractured hip bone, and a broken arm apparently wasn’t a joke. No racing for the rest of the year. Your life was over.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you sat up and pain shot up your back.

“Hey,” Oscar’s soft voice brought you out of your upset, and back into the room. He took your hand. You felt bad, he’d been there the entire time, and honestly, he should probably be at the track already, ahead of today’s race. You’d tried to shoo him but he wasn’t having it, much more in favour of being with you and cluing you in on how your parents reacted to him being your boyfriend. Awkward. “Take your time.”

You nodded, grateful that he was there, then turned your attention to the camera Angelina had brought with her and set up to take a ‘statement’ video. “Hi Prema fans, and my fans. Yesterday was pretty rough, and with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I won’t be able to continue this season in F2. My back was badly damaged yesterday in my collision with Liam, which was a complete accident and not anyone's fault, and I definitely don’t blame Liam. I love racing, and I’ll still be at the majority of the races to support my teammates, and my boyfriend. This is just a very unfortunate event that pulls me out of the game for a while, but I’ll be back. I hope you miss me on track, and just know that I’m alright. Thank you for the support, bye for now, Prema family.”

Oscar wrapped his arms around you and smiled. “I’m the boyfriend,” he added, making you laugh.

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Clip 7: Prema footage

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, 4th of December

“And Oscar Piastri sees the chequered flag first! Winning a sprint race and the feature race this weekend!”

You jumped up and down beside Chris, his father, as he came into the pitlane. He was the lead of the championship. He was going to win F2. No doubt about it.

The past 5 months had been difficult. You’d been back at school for a while, only now cleared to travel again, but you were happy to be back at the tracks. It felt good to watch Oscar win in person.

Chris wrapped his arms around you as you both celebrated. Oscar’s radio came on.

“God guys, good drive. Looks like Y/n is my lucky charm,” he laughed over the radio. The last races hadn’t gone so well for him, but he was straight back to winning with you here.

You were smiling the whole way to the barricade, but that ended when about 50 people were against your back, pushing violently. Chris and Mark were trying desperately to get them to back off, but they couldn’t stop them. You promised them you’d be ok, but the pain was getting unbearable, and Oscar hadn’t come over yet.

“Guys, move back!” He shouted as he ran over, just finished taking off his helmet. “Make some space!” The team obliged, but he still decided to be dramatic and lift you over the barrier. “You alright?” he asked, but you just wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re incredible Osc,” you smiled. “I love you so much.”

And there it was, out in the open for the first time. Too bad you forgot you both had microphones on.

He smiled wider than you ever thought possible for his face. “I love you too. So much baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You should be up here with me,” he added and you nodded, it still being a sore subject. “And you will be. Next year.”

You nodded, grateful for the hope and support he offered you. “Go! Go to your team!” you laughed, pushing him on. Before he let you out of his grasp, he grabbed your waist and stole a sweet, quick kiss.

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Clip 8: Prema footage

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 12th of December

He’d done it. He was the F2 champion. Sadly next year he would only get to be the Alpine F1 reserve driver, which meant no consistent racing, but that was still incredible.

You waited by the barricade as he came in, and he went straight over to you. He pulled his helmet off, then his bandana, and pulled you in for a kiss. The rest of the team ‘ohh’ed and ‘aww’ed but neither of you cared at all. He’d won.

“Congratulations F2 winner,” you smirked, pulling away.

“Thanks baby,” he smiled.

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Post-race interview

“So, how does this feel, Oscar?” she asked.

“It feels amazing, y’know, we’ve all worked so hard at this for the whole year and it’s just really special to have everyone here, especially my girlfriend Y/n. I’m missing her on track, so it’s good to still at least have her in the paddock,” he smiled, and the camera cut to you, beaming up at him.

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Clip 9: Prema footage and Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 19th of March, Sprint 1.

“We’re in the Prema garage,” Oscar explained to the camera in front of him. He was in full Alpine gear, being a reserve driver meant being a marketing machine, but this wasn’t for Alpine, this was for you. “And my girlfriend is about to go and do her first race back since the accident last season. Let’s go interview her about it!” He walked through the garage, searching for you, and finally found you. “Y/n! Any time for an interview?”

You turned to him and smiled. “I always have time for you,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. His grip on you was tight but you didn’t mind. You pulled away and turned to the camera.

“So, how does it feel to be back?” He asked.

“Amazing. I thought my life was over when I was told I wasn’t allowed to race for half a year.”

“And who helped nurse you back to health?” He smirked, batting his eyelashes at you.

“Your mom mostly,” you chuckled. You’d spent the entire off-season in Australia with Oscar and his family, and Nicole had been so considerate and careful about your healing injuries.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah… that’s probably true,” he chuckled. “How do you feel being on Pole?”

“It feels good. We just have to stay quick this season. I didn’t rush my healing just to lose,” you smiled then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve to get in the car now, love you,” you smiled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his lips to yours with a ‘good luck’, then let you go.

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“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n is coming in with a bang! A Sprint Pole and a Sprint win! That is a statement, ‘I never left’!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, well done!” Pedro called over the radio as the Prema garage went crazy.

“Thanks for everything guys, great car, great drive-”

“Great driver,” he added.

You pulled into the pitlane and got out of the car, celebrating as they got the photo of you on the car. You ran over to Oscar at the barricade as you pulled off your helmet and balaclava.

“That’s my girl!” he cheered as you pulled him in for a hug. “See? Nothing's changed.”

You pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m loving this WAG lifestyle,” he chuckled.

You laughed. “It suits you.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you’re being called for the interview. Love you,” he smiled as you walked off, giving your hand a squeeze. You blew him a kiss back.

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Clip 10: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy.

You were laughing with Logan, doing a ‘Who knows who best’ challenge and both of you were failing miserably.

You put the headphones on and the music started, making it impossible to hear him. You watched as the room erupted in laughter, then Logan nudged you to take the headphones off.

“What is the most annoying thing about you?” He asked, holding back giggles.

“I know what you’d say,” you chuckled. “Me and Oscar.”

The room erupted in laughter as he nodded. “Exactly!”

“You’re just jealous,” you chuckled.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, because I have Oscar and you don’t,” you shot back, and everyone started laughing again.

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Clip 11: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 20th of November

“And after a season of domination from the woman in red, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first with a staggering 425 points! This F2 season will go down in history!”

You’d done it. You’d done it. You were an F2 champion, and next season you’d be in an F1 car fulltime, racing alongside Oscar, Logan, and Nick. You’d made it.

You jumped out of the car, amazed at your season. It’d been win after win, fastest lap after fastest lap, pole position after pole position. You’d worked so hard.

“You did it baby!” Oscar shouted as you ran over. You jumped into his arms, and let him hold you up. He looked at you like you held the sky up, like you were the greatest thing on the planet. “You’re incredible.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. “ I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more,” he pressed kisses to any inch of skin he could, more than proud to be yours.

You chuckled as he tickled you with his kisses, before you realised that you needed to go fulfil your duties. He put you down, but before you could leave, he grabbed your waist again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Osc.”

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Clip 12: Sky Sports channel, McLaren footage, and RedBull footage

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 2023.

“A disappointing result for Oscar Piastri, but an incredible run for Y/n Y/l/n, P1 in her first race! I’m sure he’ll be pleased with that for his long-time girlfriend!”

Oscar was pissed off, but his mood was lifted by your result. You were incredible. He cheered in his own garage, happy for your win. You’d won your first race. Who else did that? The first woman to ever do so.

He was in awe of you.

He exited his garage, ready to see you after your win. He saw you getting out of the car and running straight into the arms of your team and he smiled. He finally caught your eye after some time, and you ran over, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth. “If I could trade our cars, I would Osc, I really would,” you sighed.

“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t make your first win about me. This is about you, my brilliant, incredible, winner,” he pressed his lips to yours in a short, victory kiss. “I love you, yeah?” “I love you too,” you smiled.

“You were amazing out there,” he smiled.

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Clip 13: McLaren video

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

“Who is your teammate's favourite person?” Lando asked, then looked at the camera and rolled his eyes. “Oscar’s is Y/n because he’s a traitor.”

Oscar burst into laughter and looked at Lando. “That’s not fair! We started dating as teammates!”

“Oh sure Osc!” Lando sighed, playing up the drama. “That’s what they all say.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Anyways, moving on from Oscar and his traitor girlfriend, who’s my favourite person Oscar?”

“Max Fewtrell?”

Lando thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Him or my parents or siblings.”

Oscar took another question out of the bowl and chuckled. “What’s the other person’s red flag?”

Little did he know, you’d come in to visit him and were actively sneaking up behind him.

“Yours is your refusal to ever use a hairbrush,” you answered for Lando, and Oscar jumped, making everyone laugh, especially Lando, who fell off his chair. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Oscar's neck from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Came to say hi,” you smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Came to air out my business online?” He questioned, laughing. He took your hands and led you around his chair, sitting you on his lap. “When did you get in?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder as Lando tried to compose himself.

“Just now, came straight from the airport,” you nodded, leaning back against him.

“Bad flight?”

“Nah, I was on Max’s jet. He’s offered me to ask you two if you want to go back to Monaco after this weekend with him. I am,” you answered. He nodded, gently playing with your hands as he listened to you.

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled. “Tell him ‘thanks’, yeah?”

You nodded. “‘Course,” you got up to leave but he pulled you down by the arm and pressed your lips together quickly, then let you go. “Love you,” you called after yourself.

“Love you too,” he called back, ready to get back to the interview.

“Can we keep that in?” Ellie, their marketing manager asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

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Clip 14: Hattie Piastri’s tiktok vlog

Piastri residence, Melbourne, 2023

“Y/n’s over there with Oscar, and Addie is with May and mum and dad are with Tim over there,” she explained to the camera pointing everything out. In the video you and Oscar were laying on the grass in the setting sun, utterly exhausted from your weekend of racing where you’d gotten p2 and Oscar had gotten p8. His arms were wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, smiling.

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Clip 15: Sky Sports channel, RedBull footage and Nicole Piastri’s instagram

Circuit Zandvoort, Zandvoort, Holland

“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n beats teammate Max Verstappen to first place, and she sees the chequered flag first! What an incredible season this has been for the rookie!”

As you crossed the finish line, you almost felt sick. You’d beaten Max, giving you a lead in the Driver’s Championship. He’d been 10 points ahead. Now, you were 15 points ahead of him.

“That’s P1, P1 Y/n congratulations,” Pedro smiled.

“Thanks Pedro, and thanks everyone, really well done. Car is perfect, thank you all so much!”

“And Oscar’s P9, if you're wondering.”

“When I get my fucking hands on Zak Brown I will rip his fake fucking toupée off for giving him such a shit car,” You groaned. “Great drive guys, thanks.”

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You walked into the paddock as they all cheered both you and Max on. Max had gotten P2, unhappy with not winning, but not mad that you’d won. He saw what you were doing for motorsports all around the world, how much pressure you were under as the first female driver in a long time, and how hard you were working. He wasn’t going to make your life harder by being an asshole off the track too. He gave you a celebratory hug and moved onto his driver’s room, as you stayed out with the engineers, chatting and celebrating with them.

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Nicole Piatri’s instagram live

“Hi everyone, Osc and I are right now, trying to sneak into the RedBull garage to see Y/n,” Nicole explained and behind her, Oscar smiled and put both thumbs up.

“I’m going to be told off for this by Zak, so, sorry Zak. I want to see my girlfriend, my bad,” he chuckled, his apology only half-assed.

Nicole and him continued faffing around the paddock for a while, until Nicole caught your eye through the window. You ran over to the door beside them and let them in, pulling Nicole in for a huge hug as Oscar waited behind her with a wide smile.

He spoke to the live. “Apparently my girlfriend likes my mum better than me-"

You cut him off with a kiss as you laughed at his antics. “Shut the fuck up,” you chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”

“I missed seeing you in the conference,” he shrugged, holding you close as his mum took the phone and documented this moment between the two of you. “I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you too,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “P9? Not bad.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled. “P1? Not bad,” he lifted you into his arms making you squeal.

“Osc! Put me down!” You squealed.

“Let me win next time,” he chuckled. “Then I’ll put you down.”

“What do you want me to do? Switch our cars?”

“Ideally,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek and putting you down. “But I guess I’ll settle for watching you be gorgeous on the podium every week.”

“The fans are loving this!” Christian joked as he watched over Nicole’s shoulder, seeing how the chat was going crazy.

You both turned to Nicole with confused faces.

“You’re still filming mum?!”

This live has now been ended by the host.

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Clip 16: Sky sports channel

Lusail International Circuit, Lusail, Qatar

“Oscar Piastri has done the job brilliantly, the Australian driver will see the chequered flag first! Oscar Piastri wins the sprint to take McLaren to the top step once again!”

“That’s P2 Y/n, Oscar P1,” Pedro announced.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed, elated for him. “Fucking legend!”

“I said P2 for you,” he reminded.

“Shut up and be happy for him, just once,” you chuckled, pulling into the pit lane to park. You watched as Oscar got out of the car as you got out of your own car. Immediately, he ran over to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you celebrated together.

“You did it!” You shouted, jumped around in each other's arms. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“You put up a good fucking fight,” he chuckled, smiling like a kid.

“You’re going to look so sexy at the top of the podium,” you smirked and he blushed hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t say stuff like that in public,” he chuckled, then hid his face in your neck as you laughed.

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Post-sprint conference

“So, this is a question for Y/n and Oscar,” an interviewer started. Both of you looked up, exhausted from the late night race. “Does your relationship prohibit you from racing to your full potential? I believe Y/n, you could’ve caught up. Did you give him this win?”

You scoffed, appalled that anyone would have the audacity to ask such a thing. “For fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “No. I couldn’t have. You know how you know that? Because I would’ve if I could’ve. I love Oscar, and I’ve loved him since I was about 14 years old, but that doesn’t mean that I let him win. He’s a ridiculously talented driver, and a fucking genius with strategy. His car is great too. But out there today? That was pure talent. I can love him, and wholeheartedly race him too,” you answered, getting annoyed at the comments like these you two constantly got. “And another thing, I’m getting really fucking sick of the questions about our relationship. Do you really think we’d be together if we couldn’t race each other and not come back to each other and be proud of each other? Seriously? Where is your critical thinking?”

The room was full of whispered conversation as you dropped the last diss, and beside you Oscar was looking at you with huge heart eyes. Anyone could see it from a mile away, he loved you. He chuckled, wanting to add his two cents as well. “Yeah, exactly. The only thing she lets me win in is chess, right?” He looked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“You won once, asshole,” you chuckled, pushing his hand off your thigh.

“Then we stopped playing,” he shrugged, a cocky smirk very-present on his face.

“We ran out of time,” you shrugged, feigning innocence.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”

The tension in the room had been dissolved in the comedic moment, and you were thankful for Oscar’s calm exterior. You moved closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped an arm around you, smiling wide as you pressed a kiss to his hand, the one closest to your face.

---------------------

Clip 17: Drive to Survive

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked, sitting in your driver’s room with you before the race. He knew how worried you were, how much you wanted this. You had to win. You and Max were neck and neck. You just had to get more points than him, starting from P2.

You sighed, standing between his legs and messing with his hair, favouring trying not to think about it rather than talking about it. He grabbed ahold of your waist and pressed his face into your torso, pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, trying to make you laugh.

You chuckled and pushed him away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stressed.”

“You won’t be stressed in a week,” he smiled. “We’ll be in Melbourne.”

You smiled, and kissed him again. “We will. Waves and relaxing. Nothing else.”

“Well, and Logan,” he chuckled. “So… ‘Merica and all that,” he smiled as you laughed at his bad joke. He got you down to his lap and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got this, don’t worry.”

“Wow, anxiety cured,” you replied sarcastically, making him laugh.

---------------------

Clip 18: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“And it is an incredible season for the first female in modern F1, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first, with a Driver’s Championship 1-2 with her teammate Max Verstappen! This makes her the first female ever to win the F1 Driver’s Championship title! What an inspiration!”

You’d done it. You won your rookie season. You were World Champion. You were a legend.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed as tears rolled down beneath your hemet. “We did it! We did it!”

“We did it!” Pedro screamed. You knew the entire RedBull garage was going crazy right now. “You did it Y/n!”

“Thank you, everyone! This would’ve been impossible without you all! Amazing year! Incredible work!” you beamed.

---------------------

“That’s P6, P6 Oscar,” his race engineer announced.

“Did Y/n get it? Did she win?”

“Yes, your girl is a World Champion,” he smiled.

“YES! YES! THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” he screamed, elated at the news. He knew you could do it. He’d always known you could do it.

He rushed to get to the pit lane, ready to celebrate with you. He jumped out of the car and pulled off his helmet as fast as he could, watching as you ran over to him.

“You did it!” He cheered. “My fucking girl.”

“I did it!” You cried, over the moon. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled.

His eyes filled with tears as his heart swelled with pride. “You’re amazing. I love you so much Y/n.”

Neither of you cared about the cameras around you as you went in for a kiss. You didn’t care about how sweaty and gross you both were, you didn’t care about the grief that the pr team would give you, you didn’t care.

You were a World Champion. He was your everything. You were his everything.

---------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff

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hammondcast · 1 year ago

Text

Jon Hammond Announcement On AFN Nu Funk Live

#WATCHMOVIE HERE: Jon Hammond Announcement On AFN Nu Funk Live

Jon's archive https://archive.org/details/jon-hammond-announcement-on-afn-nu-funk-live

Youtube https://youtu.be/cVXCEQOHnXE

FB https://fb.watch/lUwSPgGayc/

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/p/Cu4vJy8Lw7Q/

Jon Hammond Announcement On AFN Nu Funk Live

Jon Hammond

Jon Hammond -- AFM Local 47

AFM - American Federation of Musicians

The awesome musicians and staffers and elected officers of Local 47

Musicians Union totally rock!

#musicians

#musiciansunion

#wages

#workingconditions

#donlombardi

#dwdrums

#americanfederationofmusicians

Publication date

2023-07-19

Usage

Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 4.0 International

Topics

AFN Europe, Radio, Radio Broadcast, Concert, Funk, Frankfurt Headquarters, AM Radio, Hammond Organ, Funky drums, Neumann Tube Microphone

Language

English

Jon Hammond announcement AFN Radio live concert broadcast AFN Europe Alumni AFN Europe Powerlite Show broadcast in AM on the 872 kHz frequency James Preston drumsBarry Finnerty guitarJon Hammond organJoe Berger engineer#AFNEurope #radio #funk #broadcast

Addeddate

2023-07-19 17:41:08

Identifier

jon-hammond-announcement-on-afn-nu-funk-live

Topics

AFN Europe, Radio, Radio Broadcast, Concert, Funk, Frankfurt Headquarters, AM Radio, Hammond Organ, Funky drums, Neumann Tube Microphone

Language

English

Topics, AFN Europe, Radio, Radio Broadcast, Concert, Funk, Frankfurt Headquarters, AM Radio, Hammond Organ, Funky drums, Neumann Tube Microphone, Language English

#Topics #AFN Europe #Radio #Radio Broadcast #Concert #Funk #Frankfurt Headquarters #AM Radio #Hammond Organ #Funky Drums #Neumann Tube Microphone #Language English

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altruisticalastor · 9 months ago

Text

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Three

☒ Summary: Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken. You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement.

☒ Warnings: wife!reader, she/her pronouns used, angst with slight comfort, strong hints of vox being in love with the reader, vox kisses reader on the forehead, alastor and the reader actually kiss and hug, lucifer is silly in this, jealous!alastor, reader expierencing a lot of conflicting emotions, lots of inner turmoil

☒ Word Count: 2,166

The ride back to Vox Tec Headquarters was quiet. However, Vox held onto you tightly the whole ride home.

Home? Is that what you consider this godforsaken place now?

You lost your way, and seeing your husband tonight after several years reminded you of what once was your home.

"Who" your home was; Alastor.

But that resentment you had for him still lingered in your heart.

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't gotten accustomed to Vox's company. Even now, he helped you out of the car. Holding your hand tightly all the way up to your bedroom. Vox was a gentleman when it came to you. He respected your privacy, turning his back while you changed into something more comfortable. But he was also possessive, and that struck fear within you.

He was soft-spoken while he tucked you into your bed. The same bed that Vox picked out specifically for you. He knew what colors, what patterns, and what textures you liked. Taking it all into account when he bought you your blankets and clothing and accessories.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Vox cooed, rubbing your arm softly. He sat at the side of your bed, eyes locked with yours. You tensed from his touch. The conflict between appreciating his gentle caress and knowing it was wrong to feel that way made guilt pool in your gut.

"I'm fine," You lied, averting your gaze from his. Vox's touch trailed lower, giving your hand a firm squeeze before he stood. "It's been a long day for you. Try to get some rest." He spoke calmly. Turning his back toward you before making his way to your bedroom door.

"V-Vox," You called out, stopping him in his tracks before he could take his leave. "Yes, sweetheart?" He turned to face you, offering you a welcoming smile. You balled the duvet up in your hand. The same one the man standing before you hand-picked for you. "Thank you for respecting my wishes today." You whispered before turning on your side. Not wanting to see Vox's expression to your earnest words.

The room was silent for a few beats. Making you feel as though Vox was seeing right through your lies. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you squeezed your eyes shut. Hoping that he would either reply or take his leave already. Your train of thought was cut off when you felt a set of lips press against your forehead. Vox's lips.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." Before you could process the kiss Vox gave you, he was gone. You turned around the moment your bedroom door closed shut.

Fuck. You were in deep shit.

Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken.

You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement.

Alastor paced around his suite, wracking his brain on how to free you of your contract. Being on a leash himself kept him constricted in some ways, but there had to be a loophole. The Radio Demon tried to keep his composure, but knowing that his beloved wife had been confined by Vox, of all people, was unacceptable.

He never thought you would fall prey to someone as pitiful as Vox. But Alastor also knew that his vanishing without a word didn’t leave you with many options. He ached for you, truly. The Radio Demon loved you with everything he had. Even the parts of himself that never saw the light of day. Alastor’s deepest thoughts and emotions were all reserved for you.

“Hey Alastor, you in here?” The door swung open quicker than The Radio Demon could see. Alastor quickly straightened upright, clearing his throat before addressing The Princess of Hell. Who just so happened to barge into his room. “What is it?” Alastor beamed painfully wide as his patience wore thinner by the second. He didn’t have time for Hotel duties at the moment. You were his top priority.

“Sorry to barge in, but... my dad is here! Just wanted to keep you in the loop!” Charlie exited without another word. She sensed an air of malice and wanted no part of it. Alastor was a feared overlord, and she retained a handful of horror stories about The Radio Demon himself.

A lightbulb went off in his head. This was perfect- Lucifer was the answer to breaking your contract with Vox. All he would have to do was get on The King of Hell’s good side. Alastor let his shadows carry him to the foyer, being met by the sight of none other than Lucifer himself. “Uh, Charlie! Who is this?” The short man shot Alastor a pointed look. “Alastor! It’s a pleasure, quite a pleasure indeed!” The Radio Demon shook Lucifer’s hand firmly. Biting back the insults he wanted to utter due to The King of Hell’s stature. Opting to play nice for the sake of your soul.

“Yeah, uh- good to meet you. Anyway, Charlie mentioned something about a tour, so we must be going!” Lucifer’s tone was passive and short. Alastor knew it would take a bit more false kindness to get on his good side. “Oh, allow me! I am the executive producer of this lovely hotel, after all!” Charlie smiled widely, finding it flattering that Alastor cared enough about the hotel to offer his services. Little did she know that he had ulterior motives. “Aww, that’s a great idea! Thank you, Alastor. I’ll leave you both to it!”

Lucifer stuttered as he tried to find the words to protest. But it was too late. Charlie was already enamored in a conversation with Vaggie. “Come along!” Alastor’s smile grew wide as Lucifer treaded behind him. The moment they reached the second floor, Alastor spun around. Meeting Lucifer at eye level. “Let me cut to the chase! I have a favor to ask of you, Luci!” The Radio Demon quipped. “I knew there was something off about you. Well, cmon spit it out. I came here for my daughter! I don't wish to waste my precious time with common demons such as yourself.”

Alastor contemplated biting his tongue off at that moment because the words that threatened to tumble out of his mouth were way beyond foul. But instead, he took a breath, reminding himself of the greater good. “I’m glad you mentioned your darling daughter, Charlie! You see, she and I made a little deal of sorts! I would be willing to forfeit our contract in exchange for another contract being terminated!” The Radio Demon was bluffing, but he was sure the fool would buy it. Lucifer’s chest puffed up in defense. Alastor could see the wheels turning in his head as The King of Hell contemplated the trade. “Lemme guess, you got yourself in a bad contract and need some help getting out of it?” Alastor’s laughter filled the hallway from the remark. Not even Lucifer himself could get Alastor out of his deal, but that was beside the point.

“Oh heavens, no! This is about my wife. She sold her soul to one of the Vees. I need that deal to be reversed! So, do we have a deal?” Alastor outstretched his hand. Hoping that Lucifer would shake it without further delay. “The who now? The Bees? Fine, fine. I don’t really care as long as my Char Char is out of harm's way. You got yourself a deal, Malastor!” Alastor cringed at Lucifer’s lack of awareness. He was truly in his own world. But that worked to The Radio Demon’s advantage. So it didn’t really matter either which way. “Lovely!” With that, the two men shook on it. Sealing their deal. Alastor chuckled under his breath from how easy that had been. Lucifer was a common idiot. No wonder the state of hell was in shambles, he thought.

But with the King of Hell under contract with him, it was only a matter of time until you were back in Alastor’s arms. He would make sure of that.

A cool gust of wind stirred you awake. It was nearly three in the morning when you heard someone calling for you. The radio static laced Alastor's voice as he spoke your name. Surely you were still dreaming, right?

"Don't be alarmed, my dear! It's only me." Alastor sat atop your bed. The same way Vox had earlier. His long fingers played with a strand of your hair, pushing it out of your face as he gazed upon you. "How did you get in here?" You nervously whispered. Slowly, you sat upright, grabbing ahold of your husband's face. His cold flesh meshed well against your warm hands. He really was here.

"I have my ways!" Alastor quipped, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you melted against him. Oh, how you missed his touch. Seven years was far too long without him and hurt feelings aside, you loved this man with your entire being. "My love, if you get caught-" You whispered against his lips, but Alastor simply silenced you by stealing another kiss.

"Nonsense! It's nothing I can't handle! Don't worry your pretty little head, I have an infallible plan to get you out of your contract with Vox." Excitement surged through you from the good news. "Really? That's amazing!" You beamed, wrapping your arms around Alastor's neck. Hugging him as tightly as possible. Your husband relaxed under your touch. Allowing himself to enjoy this long-awaited moment with you.

"I need you to hold out for a bit longer, my dear. Can you do that for me?" Alastor whispered into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back with the pads of his thumbs. You nodded fervently. Whatever it would take, you would endure. "Yes," You sighed a breath of relief. Freedom was nearly within your reach. It was only a matter of time. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Sweetheart? Are you awake?"

Fuck, it was Vox.

You frantically pulled away from Alastor's embrace. Presenting him with a frightened look. "Go, now!" You nervously hushed, giving him one last kiss before he stood. Alastor's classic grin remained, but his eyes were full of remorse for you. He hated to leave you here like this, but there was no other way. Just a little bit longer. Alastor whispered a small "I love you" before his shadows enveloped him. Whisking The Radio Demon away right in the nick of time.

Moments later, your door swung open. Revealing a worrisome Vox. "Sweetheart, why didn't you answer me?" He quickly made his way to your side. His slender fingers grasped your chin. Vox tilted your head every which way, scanning for any abnormalities. "I-I'm sorry! I had a nightmare... so I was still pretty out of it when I heard your voice." You lied. Trying your hardest to force a smile his way. Vox's expression softened from your confession.

"You see, this is why I insisted on installing cameras in your room. I would be able to get here sooner at times like this." Vox sighed, pulling you into his chest. His arms enveloped your waist. "No cameras in here, you promised..." You mumbled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his frame loosely. If you were entirely unresponsive, Vox would know you were being furtive. So you played your part. Whatever it would take, right?

"I did promise. You're right, sweetheart. But the offer still stands." Vox squeezed you tighter. The embrace bordered the lines of discomfort from how he held onto you. All you could do was nod against him, hoping he would release you sooner rather than later. "I-I know, thank you." It felt like pulling teeth, forcing out those words. Slowly, Vox pulled away. He gently pressed your shoulders down before tucking you back into bed.

"Try to get some more rest. It's still early, sweetheart. If you have another nightmare, just call out to me. I'll be here." Vox pressed another kiss to your forehead before standing up. He walked over to the chair that resided in the corner of your room. Vox made himself comfortable, gaze never once faltering from you. You squeezed your eyes closed. Forcing yourself to doze off despite the pressure you felt from his watchful gaze.

Alastor had remained outside your bedroom window. Overhearing your and Vox's entire conversation. His blood was boiling. Is this what you've had to endure for all these years? Alastor clawed at the side of the building right beside your window. His anger was only building the more he replayed the air of discomfort you illuded. Vox made a grave mistake thinking he could win you over.

You were his wife, and he would remind Vox of that fact. It was only a matter of time.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor angst #alastor hazbin hotel #vox x reader x alastor #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel vox

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hazbinhazmeinachokehold · 9 months ago

Text

Overlords + child overlord reader

!!!Not proofread!

Alastor: “They're filled with potential that I could guide!” Yeah, he’d try to recruit you. Listen while I know this probably would never happen I think it would be funny if he actually started seeing you as his kid. Like this man did not think of even slightly liking you, but here you are as his kid. Anywho- He would trust you to go out by yourself. I mean you're literally an overlord. But you're also a kid who is seen as weak and an easy target. While you usually deal with it, you have been hit a few times. Since you’ve become his kid his Radio show is never running low on screams. You make fun of Vox together at meetings.

Rosie: Do you want a new mom? Yes? Well, you’re in luck! No? Too bad! Either way, you’re adopted now, congrats. Maybe not legally but it’s hard to tell the difference with you too. Very impressed with how powerful you are at such a young age. A wee bit worried but still you’re powerful. Just tell her if someone does land a hit on you though, depending on her mood she might get a new meal. If need advice on anything, especially being an overlord, she’ll happily comply. Also, she will let you sit on her lap at meetings.

Vox: fucking Ipad baby For the most part he wouldn’t pay any mind to you tbh. But if you openly hate Alastor? There is a new member of the vees I’ll tell you that much. Even if your name does start with a v. You only really run into him on the street and in meetings though. Your ass is not going into the headquarters (or whatever it's called) because of a certain, as Velvette would say, piss baby. You're getting the latest technology. Whether you want it or not is irrelevant.

Velvette: Girlie (gender neutral) if you are on her good side you are spoiled. But you do have to get rid of ¾ of your closet. But you also get new clothes so you win some, you lose a few hundred. You are allowed into the v headquarters but only for short periods of time and in her area only. I would compare you to a sassy rich lady and her poodle. Carmilla: Listen I’m going to keep it real with you she does not want you to be an overlord. Like even if you guys don’t get along you’re still a child. Keeps a close eye on you. Anyway, she has three kids now. She’s leading the meeting while you're just sitting on her shoulders. No one dares mention it because they don’t want to find out if she’ll put her weapons to use. Very good life advice, it rivals Rosie’s. If were to get adopted by any overlord she’d be the best pick.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #rosie x reader #velvette x reader #carmilla x reader #vox x reader #child reader

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folkloresthings · 4 months ago

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Hello darling I have a request from prompt ‘we were supposed to be just friends’. Lando x fem!reader, she work as legal for McLaren, they met at the McLaren technology center, and from the begging they had this special bond. During a party in a disco in uk with his friends, he stay very close to her and try to kiss her. After a sec of confusion, they kissing each other.

❛ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ❜ ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

where lando has loved the mclaren legal officer from the second he set eyes on her and has finally decided to do something about it.

eight months out of university and working in a coffee shop was not exactly how you had pictured your life post-graduation. you had a law degree from one of the best schools in england, but all it was doing was gathering dust on a frame in your living room. nights were spent in front of the television, only half paying attention, with your laptop screen lit up with job postings. it was like the four years of knowledge was itching to be used, instead of idle hands pouring overpriced iced lattes.

admittedly, you didn't remember applying for the job at mclaren. you were so desperate that you had sent your resume to every posting you could find, barely sparing a second glance at the job summary. it was only when they emailed with an interview date did you do your research. they were a formula one team, and a pretty good one at that. the sport had never much been your thing so you hadn't a clue what kind of work you'd be doing.

but it was work. legal work.

the interview went smoothly, then the second, and the third. they seemed to love you and your education. thankfully the internships you had done during university made up for your lack of experience. they hired you and had you come up to headquarters the next day. the drive from london to woking was full of jitters, turning your radio up to block out the nervous thoughts.

"ah, y/n! welcome to the mclaren technology centre." zak brown was the one to greet you by the front desk, with a smile and a firm handshake. you had spoken during your last interview, the final hurdle with the boss, and thankfully you got along fine. despite your age and greenness in the legal world, zak admitted he saw potential in you. they had gone through six other employees in the past two years for this position, all much older and more experienced. they needed a change.

"this is where you'll be working when you're in-office," zak explained, leading the way through a tour of the centre. it was much bigger than you expected, so modern and open. yeah, you could picture yourself here. "we usually would have you here one or two days a week, the others you can work from home. is that okay?"

"that's perfect," you agree, nodding happily. "i live in london, so the drive is only about an hour."

zak grins, continuing the tour and filling each space with small talk; your education, upbringing, hobbies. he only laughed when you sheepishly told him you knew very little about formula one, and didn't have a huge interest in the sport.

"you'd be surprised how many people here don't watch it," he chuckled, his american accent strange in the midst of the english countryside. "ah, speaking of. boys!"

in the foyer, at the end of the hall, two heads whip around at zak's call. both in the mclaren colours, one was thinner and smiling crookedly. the other, well. he was...

"lando, oscar, i want you to meet y/n. she's our new internal legal officer," zak explained. "meaning if you fuck up in any way, she'll have to deal with it."

the three men laugh, bringing your own bashful smile to wake.

"hi, i'm oscar," the thinner boy speaks in a soft australian accent, shaking your hand. "but it's lando here that you'll have to keep an eye on. i'm always on my best behaviour."

lando. he'd been staring at you since zak dragged you over to them, barely blinking despite for the odd laugh. he blushes then, gently nudging oscar with his elbow. he meets your eyes and his mouth goes dry, lips parting like a fish out of water as he tries desperately to think of something witty to say.

"don't worry, if you don't do anything wrong then i won't have anything to do," you jest, breaking the silence. a grin pulls at your mouth with the words, soon mirrored by the two drivers.

"i think i'd rather you didn't, then," zak scoffs, patting your shoulder. "go get settled, i'll come check on you in a while. boys, we've got that meeting in ten — c'mon."

smiling gratefully, you nod towards zak as he leaves — a silent thank you for his hospitality. oscar waves shyly, turning on his heel to hurry after his boss. lando follows suit, just about pulling his eyes from you, but only makes it a few steps before he's turning back.

"it was, uh, nice to meet you," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "hopefully i'll see you around."

biting at your cheek, holding back a small laugh, you nod. "hopefully."

lando finds himself grinning, walking a few yards backwards just to spare another minute looking at you. oscar calls for him and forces the teammate to hurry, shoes scuffing against polished tile as he catches up.

"stare much?" oscar asks him once they're side by side, a knowing smirk twisting upward.

"shut up," lando mumbles, but his own smile flickers. "she's pretty."

after that day, lando and you became close friends. he would sneak upstairs from briefings to bring you a coffee ("extra caramel, of course") and hide out in your office. he would vent to you about changes zak was, or wasn't, making with the car. you would confide in his about particularly stressful cases you would get handed. on days you weren't in the office, lando would text you pictures of him and oscar bored in meetings.

but the worst was race weekends. very rarely did you go along with the rest of the team, as there was little need for you there. if something went wrong, you could fix it from your desk in england. lando sent you updates from each city, everything from the track to sightseeings. you would often reply with a picture of your rainy window in central london and a sad face. and each sunday, you would sit up and watch the race with your fingers crossed. no matter the time, you were there. and when a race went particularly bad, you would wait up for the phone call from lando, needing a shoulder to lean on.

the staff at mclaren began saying you two were joined at the hip, partners in crime, so often not seen without the other. the best of friends.

"hey," lando chirped, knuckles rapping on your office door one friday morning. he had two coffees in his hand, as usual, perching both them and himself on top of your desk. "you going to the office party tonight?"

"open bar, free cocktails, seeing mark from marketing drunk?" you hummed thoughtfully, sipping at the hot drink. "you bet i am."

lando laughs, head thrown back slightly. the knowledge that you'll be there relaxes him, actually letting him look forward to the mandatory night out. "okay, good. i'll see you then."

"see you tonight," you call after him, watching until he disappears around the nearest corner. luckily, zak lets everyone go an hour early in account for the party starting at eight. you hurry home, sorting through every outfit option and getting ready as quickly as you can. the club was on the other side of london, at least forty minutes on the train, hence your rushing out the door with only one heel buckled.

inside of the club, completely booked out by zak for the company's pleasure, you realised just how many people worked in the world that was mclaren. legal was such a small part of it, a tiny cog in the whole machine. it was quite overwhelming, if it wasn't for the fact that you knew so many of the faces.

"y/n, hey!" the familiar sydney accent pulls your eyes to the nearby bar. oscar waves you over, smiling as you weave your way into a hug. "this is lily, my girlfriend."

you recognised the girl from pictures, but she was even prettier in real life. you exchange bright hello's, hugging in greeting while oscar orders you both some drinks.

"it's so nice to finally meet you!" lily beams, tucking her hair behind her ears. "i've heard so much."

curiosity peaks you, head tilted ever so slightly. "you have?"

"yeah, of course. lando is always—"

her words are cut short by a wide-eyed oscar, shoving in between you both to give you your drinks. "ha, hey! let's go sit, hm?"

your brows furrow, only more confused when lily shoots you an apologetic look. she takes your hand to lead you through the crowd to a booth at the other wall. amongst a few individuals you vaguely recognise, lando sits sipping a beer. he looks up when he hears oscar greet them, but his eyes instantly shoot to you.

"jesus," he mutters, quiet enough that only max next to him hears. you look absolutely stunning, your figure newly shown off by the little dress you have on. it falls to about mid-thigh, the rest of your legs accentuated by the heels you had on. your hair and makeup has been done a bit more than it would for work, and the sight has lando's stomach churning.

you squeeze in next to lily, across the table from lando. he can't tear his eyes away from you, even when max tries to strike up conversation. all you're doing is talking to lily, leaning over into each other to hear properly, face lighting up every so often with a laugh.

"so, that's who's had you so distracted recently?" max eventually catches lando's attention, watching his best friend's eyes widen. "she's pretty."

pretty? lando though. she was gorgeous.

"we're just friends," lando explains, shaking his head.

"bro, you've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room for the last twenty minutes," max laughs airily, nudging him. lando scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny the fact. after another moment, you catch his gaze and smile softly. lando blushes, lifting his hand to wave slightly.

"okay, let's dance! this is my favourite song," max suddenly exclaims, standing up with a slap to the tabletop. a few follow suit, and you turn to lily with raised brows.

"oh, no," she shakes her head with a giggle. "i need at least two more of these drinks before you get me up there."

"well, drink up. i'll save you a dance."

smiling sweetly, you slip off of the seat to give her attention back to oscar. lando stands at the same time, smiling playfully when he looks at you. a hand of his stretches out and you can't even fathom denying it, slipping palm to palm and letting him drag you to the middle of the dance floor.

the song is drake or the weekend, something you don't really know, but the beat is so loud that you can feel it in the floor beneath you. falling into a rhythm, you giggle as lando begins moving with you. he sings along, but you don't recognise the lyrics, only the movement of his lips as his eyes shut. your chest thumps in time with the music, the heat of the people around you creeping onto your bare skin. the music mixes, changing into a melody you instantly know.

"i love this song!" you squeal, grasping lando's arms to shake them in excitement. he chuckles, watching on in admiration as you begin dancing again, reciting every single word to abba's lay all your love on me. your hands sneak down from his arms to his hands, forcing him to move along with you. he spins you around again and again just to watch your hair and dress float around you like magic, the lights of the club basking you in a heavenly hue.

somewhere in the midst of the second verse and chorus, lando feels his judgement cloud. he'd like to blame it on the beer, but he had only drank one, and he knew it was that usual intoxicating presence you carried around everywhere. your lips mould around each lyric, having listened to the song so many times (and your endless summer rewatches of mamma mia, as you once told him) that it was engraved on your memory. you looked perfect, the same as every day he snuck glances at you in the office or scrolled through your instagram late at night when he couldn't sleep for thinking about you.

you were it, for him. everything he loved and dreamed of, the only thing that had kept his feet on the ground this past season. and here you were, chest pressed to his thanks to the swarm of drunken guests, so close that he could smell your perfume and the shampoo from your hair. you had used a darker lipstick tonight, he noticed, unlike the usual clear balm you wore at work. it made you lips look even more soft than they normally do - he knew, because he spent a hefty chunk of his day staring at them.

abba fades out, along with the loud and out of tune singing filling the club, and all lando can think about is kissing you. it wouldn't be fair, for such pretty lips to go unkissed. and it wouldn't be fair on him, who has spent hours on end imagining how kissing you might feel, to let such an opportunity slip away from him.

so, he's tightening the hands that are already on your waist to pull you even closer, until there's not an inch of space left between you. his lips around rough, unmoving as they press against yours, eyes screwed shut and cursing the long seconds as he waits for your mouth to respond. eventually, he peeks through hesitant eyes to meet your surprise. your lips, colour smudged a little now from the contact, are parted and your eyes are wide. he can't discern what you're thinking, but he would bet it wasn't pure elation.

blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer.

his mouth opens just as all of his senses wire back in again, the end notes of the song just ringing out when he begins making his excuse. but your surprise and panic fills you so much that you can't breathe here, not with so many people around and lando's body heat still so close. stumbling, you push past him and everyone else that you meet to escape the busyness. the neon exit sign beckons you to the fire door, gasping when it opens and the fresh night air hits you.

thankfully, there isn't a soul to watch you and your flushed cheeks struggling for breath, and you wait until you hear the door shut behind you to fully relax again, frankly not caring if you lock yourself out. but the click of the lock doesn't come, only a familiar sound that crumbles you again.

"y/n—"

lando stands helpless in the doorway, eyes pleading for forgiveness when you turn to him. your head shakes, searching for something to say.

"i... you, what—” you struggle to grasp the right words, eyes squeezing shut. "i thought we were just friends?"

"we were! we are," lando corrects you quickly, striding towards you. "but that doesn't change the fact that i—"

"lan, please don't."

"— love you, y/n. i've been in love with you since your first day at work. how couldn't i be?"

his voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before, urging guilt into your throat until you have to swallow it back down. you make yourself look down at the ground, your heels and his sneakers facing each other, because you know you'll fall apart once you see those damned brown eyes.

"lando..." you murmur through a sigh.

"don't you feel it too?" he asks, desperately grabbing at your clammy hands. "us, me and you. it's right there."

you cave then, heart taking over from your mind, chin raised to look at him. lips turn into a frown, searching his lovelorn eyes for the moment he'll laugh and tell you its all a big joke. because he's lando, and you're just you.

"tell me that you don't, that there's nothing here," lando mumbles lower, gripping your fingers for dear life. "tell me this isn't real and i'll walk away. but — but i can't leave you if there's a chance."

your lips part with a breath, lips dry, and your sense screams at you to tell him no. that it'll never work, it's impossible. but something tugs in your chest and you realise something you had never wanted to admit to yourself: you loved lando norris.

"it'll be too complicated." you settle for excuses instead, chewing the inside of your cheek, wincing when you nick the flesh. "we have to work together, so if something happens then it'll mess everything up."

lando steadies your shaking head with his hands, one on each cheek, staring deep into your eyes. "what are you so scared of?"

you swallow, shoulders raising with each shallow breath. "i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend, the only person i can talk to. i don't want to mess that up."

your confession melts his heart, affection bringing his thumbs to graze across your cheeks. "i won't let that happen," lando promises, tongue sincere as can be.

you wait a moment, scouring his features before the trust solidifies. gently, tentatively, you search for the taste you barely got inside of the club, lips ghosting together. strawberry and beer mix on your tongues, hands wandering over body heat and mouths hungrily moving together like two teenagers in a back alley. only when breathless does lando fall from your lips, hands still steady on the round hips of your dress, keeping you close.

"i'll always be your best friend," he whispers like an oath, a boyish smile tugging at the corner of his swollen and lipstick-covered mouth. "but can we be best friends who do that, like, a lot?"

writer's note: wrote this in one sitting and may have gotten carried away but pls enjoy <3

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jyoongim · 8 months ago

Note

Hello! May I request something similar to what’s been written before with alastor x vox’s little sister. But instead this time it’s alastor flirting with reader during overlord meetings and just saying stuff on the radio about her to swoon her- maybe he even started to court her too?

I actually just find this shit hilarious and I love torturing vox…

You never understood why Vox avoided coming to the Overlords’ meetings. It was making him look bad when he only sent you to represent the Vees district.

But alas, you were welcomed kindly by Carmilla and the others.

Especially the Radio Demon Alastor.

Over the years, your nervousness around the demon wane and you actually found him quite pleasant to be around.

Vox had always told you to stay away for Alastor, claiming the demon would just fuck with you to get a reaction out of him.

Like the obedient sister you were, you tried to listen to your big brother, but Alastor made it so hard to stay away.

At the Overlords meetings he often reserved a seat right beside him, keeping you filled in if you came in late or made jokes in your ear.

While you often tried to remain professional and regal, Alastor found you blushing and stuttering to be cute.

He never missed a chance to flirt with you throughout the meetings, snickering when you threw him a glare when reprimanded by Carmilla.

But that was only the beginning.

You were often awakened by the sound of Alastor’s radio broadcast (He gifted you a radio and how could you refuse a dedazzled radio?). You would be flustered hearing the red demon talk about you over Hell’s broadcast.

Compliments, joking, serenading, flirting directed towards you could be heard by all sinners.

It drove Vox mad that the Radio Demon seemed to have the hots for his sister.

He would disconnect all of Hell before letting Alastor be around you.

But Alastor was nothing if not persistent.

He lavished you with flowers, letters, trinkets and charms that suited your fancy. Of course Velvette giggled at the attention you were getting, while Vox’s systems were overheating. Like all things constant, he had finally worn you down.

Alastor had caught you out shopping on one of his outings, smiling wide when you let out sparks when he brought your hands to his lips.

”Its a lovely day my dear why don’t I treat you to lunch hmmm? You must be famished.” You barely had time to protest before he whisked you to a fancy restaurant.

You couldn’t help how your heart fluttered when the demon asked about your interests. He hid his distaste for your brother just enough for you that it made you giggle.

When Alastor admitted to wanting to court you, your systems went haywire. You were conflicted. You knew Vox wouldn’t like that you being in a relationship with Alastor, but you reeeaaallly like the demon.

You accepted and it was the best decision of your life.

And Vox’s worst nightmare.

He glitched out when you told him you had accepted Alastor’s advances.

Voxtech headquarters were often filled with gifts Alastor sent you.

Date nights had Vox’s clawing at his wires.

He hated seeing the smug look Alastor threw him when he would catch the two of you cuddling on the couch, watching an old movie.

Vox didn’t understand why you wanted to date him.

He was old-fashion, a fossil, did not fit your aesthetic, but you frowned saying you quite enjoyed how modest Alastor was. He actually wanted to get to know you and didnt have anything to gain from Vox.

He made you laugh, didn’t tiptoe around you.

He didnt care you were a pampered princess, he spoiled you more.

Vox would always treat you like his little sister, but you were a grown woman, you didnt need him to always look after you.

”Voxxy just give me this one favor ok? I know you two don’t like each other but pleeeaassee try to reframe from killing my boyfriend”

So Vox tried, he really did, but seeing Alastor be so so touchy with you made him itch.

You had fried Hell’s communication systems because Vox ruined dinner.

”He didnt have to kiss you!”

”You kiss Val all the time theres no difference?”

”It is different!”

”How?”

”We have an very professional agreement-”

”You two fuck!”

”Alastor would fuck you if given the chance! Why can’t you see he’s no good!”

”…”

”You didnt…”

”We didnt get far!”

”IM GOING TO KILL HIM”

”I WILL MAKE YOU INTO A FAX MACHINE!”

Alastor chuckled as you sulked in his arms. “He’s a big stupid sensor who think he can tell me what to do!”

You turned to Alastor, lip quivering “I really like you and Vox…Vox just don’t get it” you said sadly, leaning on his shoulder.

He hooked a claw under your chin and pressed a kiss to your forehead “Oh don worry dear. Hes just being how big brothers are. He can’t scare me off hehe no I quite like the investment I made”

He pressed his lips to yours and you melted in his touch.

Your brother would get over it…sooner or later.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox the tv demon

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asgardianechoes · 15 days ago

Text

Spilled Secrets

Loki x Reader Fluff

Summary: You secretly like Loki, but you’re kind of upset he doesn’t know… until he finds out.

Word Count: 3.2k

It wasn’t hard to fall for him. Humor, charm, high cheekbones… he has it all. From his silver tongue to his raven hair, you adored every aspect. Despite his misdeeds, he was undeniably hot. He held himself royally, always maintaining an air of nobility. One meeting with him had you hooked on him, unable to let go or think of anything else.

‘He lives free rent in my mind’, you told Natasha one day in the living room of the Avengers Headquarters. Apart from Pepper, she and Wanda were the only ones you could do Girl Talk with. ‘I don’t know how to tell him.’

She looked at you sympathetically, taking your hand in her own. She had known of your crush since the day you started liking him. The radio played in the background, informing of some good weather, but neither of you noticed, both too concentrated on your current dilemma. Lovesickness had never been a significant issue to you before… until he came along.

‘He stole my heart… and yet he acts oblivious,’ you ranted on. Natasha looked up, smiling softly. She stroked your hand with one finger absent-mindedly as she listened intently.

‘He’ll get there. Or maybe,’ a small smirk tugged at her lips as she looked back up at you, ‘he already knows; he might just be toying with you just to see how long you’d last.’

You nudged her with your hand, a faint red hue coming over your face. He wouldn’t… right?

‘I mean-’, she pressed on, ‘it’s a very typical thing of him to do, don’t you think?’ She scooted closer to you, putting a hand on your back soothingly. ‘Playing with others’ feelings… I honestly don’t think it would take him that long to figure out that you like him. It’s really obvious.’

‘You’re not helping,’ you replied, looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to locate him through the walls. Nevertheless, you smiled softly at her teasing. She was always there for your small talks. After a while, you lowered your gaze back to your lap, reality sinking in and you felt the joy leaving you.

‘But what if he doesn’t? What if he genuinely doesn’t know?’ you mumbled in front of you, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Once again, tears threatened to fall as you buried your face in them, softly mumbling to yourself. The fabric of your pants absorbed the salty droplets, leaving a dark spot there. You were audibly sniffing now. You felt her hand move up and down your back again, her words only muffled sounds. At some point she led you back to your room, leaving you to yourself for the rest of the night.

The next day you went over to the library. The Avengers had quite a big one, it filled the entire floor. Rows upon rows of shelves lined the walls and the spaces in between, the scent of paper floating in the air. You stopped at the sign that indicated where the romance-fiction stories were. If only my life was as nice as one of those, you thought, pulling a roman out of the shelf and reading the back of it intently. If only I could live in a life like that.

Sitting down at the table, you put down the book you’d taken out. Not gonna lie, you were in no interest in reading it. There was no need for you to get jealous over another made-up story. To pass time, you grabbed a scrap piece of paper and started doodling. Only the lines that the lead left only spelled one word, over and over again: Loki. You wrote his name all over the place, sideways, in cursive, in bold letters. Maybe it was because you were so concentrated that you didn’t hear the library door opening.

‘Oh, I see that I’m not the only one in need of something to do,’ a voice said, startling you. You quickly covered the scribbled paper with another blank sheet, looking over your shoulder. Thor was standing there with a load of books in his arms.

‘My dear brother decided to make me run errands,’ he explained cheerfully, certainly not getting the nervousness etched in your face. You nodded, looking down. What you would do to make Loki make you run his errands. ‘You alright?’ His voice brought you back to reality.

‘What? Oh. Yeah, I’m alright. Just… in need of something to do, like you said,’ you managed a small smile that was somewhat realistic. He just smiled and continued putting books back on shelves. Your eyes followed every single book as he put them back. Loki held these maybe even moments ago, you thought. If only I were a book he’d like to read.

Sometime later, he looked over to you again and asked: ‘Are you working on anything? Because that paper tells me you aren’t doing what you want to do.’ You picked up the two pieces of paper and replied a little too fast: ‘Oh, yeah, I just have to write something for Stark, nothing big.’ You held the papers a little more firmly in your hand. When he asked to proofread it, you declined immediately. Mumbling something about not being done, you put them back down, bending over it and pretending you were thinking about what to write. Shrugging, Thor left, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. But your relief didn’t last long; a few moments later, another person came in, and this time it was none other than the god of mischief himself. Strutting through the rows, you heard him pulling books out and putting them back in, as if none of the ones he found were worth his attention. Eventually he spoke up.

‘Why the tenseness? Is it your time of the month?’ he asked coyly. He turned the corner and looked at you. Your gaze dropped almost instantly to the ground. ‘No, I’m just…,’ you said, picking your papers up again, ‘just a little tired. Couldn’t sleep.’

His eyebrows raised as he looked away to the opposite bookshelf. ‘Is that so…?’ he mumbled, more to himself than to you, ‘hmm.’ You couldn’t tell if he knew you were lying or not but he sure seemed to deem you amusing. After a small pause he continued. ‘I would’ve thought someone like you would know that lying to me is futile.’

You froze. Of course you knew that, but how could you ever tell him the truth of your stiffness? He’s the prince of Asgard, rightful king of Jotunheim, a regal character, not some random guy you can just find on the streets. ‘Yes, of course. How could I not know that?’

He narrowed his eyes, his signature smirk widening. He walks up to you, his eyes boring into yours. His gaze fell upon the papers you held in your arms, a questioning look crossing his face.

‘Just… just a report I’m supposed to write,’ you lied for the second time, and he didn’t let that go unnoticed. He tilts his head, his eyes asking are you really going to do this? Because there won’t be a nice ending if this continues. He doesn’t say anything about it though, just nods slyly and walks away.

He pulls a further book of the shelf, inspecting it. Seemingly satisfied, he scanned it and left the library, letting the emptiness envelop you. You uncovered the paper filled with his name, unshed tears threatening to fall. Will he ever know…? Will he ever acknowledge my feelings for him?

You return to your room afterwards, attempting to bury your feelings down a deep grave. You sulked until night fell upon the busy city. Deciding to take a shower, you went to get some fresh clothes for the night. Soon enough, warm water was splattering down your body, warming your sore and mentally broken body.

When you came back out of the shower and entered your living room again, you found an unexpected guest. Loki was sitting in your armchair, reading a magazine. His eyes darted to you the moment you stepped into the chamber. You fumbled with your nightshirt pockets, unsure of what to do.

‘What, uh, brings you to my place at this hour?’ you tried, testing the waters. He doesn’t reply, instead he slowly puts the magazine down, his eyes never leaving yours. He shortens the distance between you, every step making your heart beat faster. When he finally stopped around a foot away from you, you looked down, unable to look at him properly. He was too much, too dazzling for your poor, tragic eyes.

‘I think we both know why I’m here,’ he says, tilting his head, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t breathe, your breath running short. His aura surrounded you like a cage, keeping you trapped in his gaze. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ you replied quietly to the floor. He lifted your chin and forced you to look him in the eye, his face inches from yours. ‘Do not lie, little minx. I know what your problem is. You suffer from lovesickness. There’s a man you love so dearly that you can’t stop thinking about him.’

You shoved him away the moment these words left his mouth. You couldn’t, couldn’t stand his breath on your face, couldn’t stand how close he was to you. ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ you said, using indifference to cover up your shaking voice, ‘I do suffer from that. What has that got to do with you coming over?’

He scoffed softly, ‘Oh, darling, that has everything to do about me coming over. I imagine I can relieve you of your… dilemma.’ Your heart skipped a beat, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. You just shook your head, looking away. ‘You wouldn’t understand…’ you said, hoping he’d stop clawing at your secrets. But he smiled, nodding slightly and does the utter opposite of what you hoped. ‘Oh really? Because I have a very different opinion about that.’

Please leave, you thought as he said this, praying to the gods, please stop killing me like this… another minute with you will break me. But his next words proved that your prayers were ignored.

‘I’m the lucky guy.’

I’m the lucky guy.

These words seemed to echo in your head. So he knew. He knew about your helpless case. And he knew he was at the center of it. All this time. Or maybe just since today. But who cares. He knows. And your secret’s spilled. In a terrifying way.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You closed it again, looking anywhere but at him. In the end you settled with staring at his knees, which are pretty much where your eyes land when you look down. You were freaking out, your heart hammering in your chest. You needed to be alone. Right. Freaking. Now.

‘You know what?’ you said, your voice quivering, ‘I’m going to bed.’ You turn around and began marching with determination towards your bedroom door. Loki seemed slightly stunned, catching your shoulder just in time and called after you with worry in his tone: ‘Where are you going? You shouldn’t just leave me hanging, we should – need – to talk about this-‘

‘No, we won’t,’ you said, refusing to turn around and face him. Gods, if you stayed any longer tears would fall. ‘We shouldn’t, because we’re not-‘ she broke off, the words lost in her throat. Going to work out well was what she wanted to say, but she just couldn’t – wouldn’t – bring these words over her lips. Instead, she shook her head again and marched further away. Your sanctuary was so close… so close… But his next words brought you to a halt again.

‘Jumping to conclusions won’t help, Y/n,’ he said with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Due to her lack of response, he pressed further, ‘Is that why you never tried to communicate with me? Why you so desperately avoided my presence? Because you feared that no matter what you did, the worse-case scenario would always happen? Talk to me, Y/n.’ His words hung in the air, thickening it. Tears welled up in her eyes, her mind reflecting on all the break-up and mocking scenarios her imagination had come up with. She whipped around, trying to keep her tears from falling.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what it feels like. You have-‘ she broke off again, a shuddering breath replacing the words she was about to say. You have no reason to love me. Not a single one. Tears began to fall as this thought formed in your head. The same one that brought you to tears every time. Every. Damn. Time.

He stayed silent, staring at the thin streams flowing down your face. Unable to bear the silence, you ran back to your room, slamming the door behind you. The moment it fell into place, the streams on your cheeks became rivers, and soon enough you were a sobbing mess on the floor. You were sure Loki could hear them through the door, but at that moment you didn’t care. He had no reason to love you, to care about you, or to even be here, in your living room, standing, stunned, in front of your bedroom door.

Loki felt a sudden pang of sadness when he heard your sobs. Looking down and deciding that it’s a bad time, he leaves, shutting your door quietly.

You didn’t remember how long you’d sat there, crying, on the floor. The only thing you do remember that is that at some point, you dragged yourself into bed and cried yourself to sleep. The next morning came in the blink of an eye, the bright sunlight waking you up. For a split second everything was fine. No worries, no problems, no nothing. But then it all came back to you and the feeling of eternal bliss was stripped from you faster than you wanted it to be.

As you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you saw something that certainly wasn’t there the night before. A small folded card was propped up against your brush on your nightstand, and your heart skipped a beat when you recognised Loki’s smooth handwriting. There was only one word on the cover: your name. Picking it up like a grenade, you opened it, expecting to see something that went along the lines of ‘I’m sorry, that’ll never happen again,’ but only found one line of words inside it.

‘Come over to my room.’

You blinked.

Come over to my room.

You read through that line a good five times before the meaning got into your brain, although the cogs in your head were still trying to sort this out. Loki – like, God of mischief and destroyer of New York Loki – was inviting you to enter his private chambers? Was this a joke? Was he trying to hype you up just to break you back down?

As much as you’d like to deny it, that order was a lot more appealing than it should be. You desperately wanted to see him again, even if it meant you could be broken. So after a moment of internal debating, you concluded that you will go pay him a visit, and will see what the hell he wants. Putting on some clothes, you set off to his room.

You half expected him to swing the door open and yank you inside when you knocked, but instead some green light shimmered and formed the words: Door is unlocked. Starting to get creepy now, you thought, gathering up your courage and pushing the door open.

The moment you stepped a foot into his room, a hand grabbed your waist and spun you around. Next moment you felt soft lips pressed against yours. Your breath hitched when you figured it was Loki’s. You didn’t have time to register what was going on, everything was happening so fast. So you did the one thing you could do: melt into his touch.

Once the shock has subsided, it felt a lot better than what you expected in your fantasies. His lips were so soft, so loving as they kissed you, sweetly asking for you to open your mouth. His tongue delved into it, tangling itself with yours, licking and flicking and who knows what tricks.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away, his blue eyes gazing into yours. You blushed, looking at the floor, suddenly realising what you two just did. Stumbling over your own words, you said: ‘That was… umm…’

He hummed in response, his hands never leaving your waistline. Your face must’ve been as red as a tomato when you spoke up again. ‘Nice of you…’

He put on a mock hurt look. Pulling you closer, he nuzzled in the crook of your neck. ‘Is that all? After this wonderous surprise I’ve prepared that bested all other ones?’

You shrugged, unable to speak. He was killing you, like before… but this time in a sweet way. You mumbled something about being ‘sorry for last night’, but he shushed you almost immediately.

‘There’s no need for that,’ he said, patting your head, ‘No need to be sorry. I know I went a little to sudden.’

He pulled back to look at you. His eyes searched your body, as if trying to print it into his head. Your arms creeped up his neck, wrapping themselves securely around it. You stared as he breathed heavily into your face, a scent of mint filling your nose.

‘Did you like, eat a mint this morning?’ you asked shyly. He chuckled, swinging you into his arms, causing you to instinctively cling onto him. You gave him an angry look, burying your face in his neck. ‘Just for you, my love.’ You were suddenly happy he couldn’t see your face. He could probably feel the heat radiating off it, though.

‘So… are we a thing now?’ he asked, walking towards the couch and sitting down, you now in his lap. ‘Or what do you Midgardians call it… a couple?’ You nodded in agreement, making yourself comfortable in his arms. He absent-mindedly stroked your hair, admiring the way it shimmers slightly in the dim light.

‘For how long did you know?’ you asked him, grabbing his free hand and playing with it like a toddler. He thought for a moment, then said: ‘Most likely since a month ago. I was originally waiting for you to make the first move, but… you seemed too nervous to. That’s why I decided to come to your room last night.’

You gaped as he said that. A freaking month. No, we’re not talking about a week or two, he’s known for a MONTH. You’ve only crushed on him for like what, two months? He smirked as he saw your expression. ‘You kept looking at me now and then. And you always freaked out when you were within three meters of me.’

You shoved him playfully, pulling his hand up so it was right over your heart. You leaned into his touch, and for the first time since hours, you were glad he made the first move.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!!!

(Guys it's my first official tumblr storyyyyyy)

Tagging: @vbecker10 @mischiefmaker615 @simplyholl

Tell me if you want to be part of my taglist!

#loki marvel #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #the avengers #god of mischief #loki x you

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thislovintime · 1 year ago

Video

tumblr

Via Historic Films, Peter Tork performing “Seeger’s Theme” at the Speakeasy in Greenwich Village, early 1980s (dated 1982 on the Historic Films website).

“I wanted to record the cut [’Seeger’s Theme‘] because I always thought that the piece had a lot of rhythm, and I hoped to display it. I keep trying.” - Peter Tork, The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees box set

“[When I was about 14] I asked for a banjo, and they went out, my folks went out and bought me a little tiny, dinky five-string banjo. And Pete Seeger’s book, How To Play the Five-String Banjo, I think I bought that myself, and learned how to play from that. Nobody said, ‘Here, take a banjo,’ or, ‘Gee, you’d be good at it,’ or anything like that. I just wanted to play it.” - Peter Tork, Headquarters radio, 1989

“I’m a great admirer of Pete Seeger." - Peter Tork, Disc and Music Echo, January 13, 1968

“‘When I was a kid, before the Monkees, I was not primarily a rock and roller,’ said Tork during a 1998 interview. ‘I was primarily an acoustic folkie. For us, as acoustic folkies, the politics were very clear. We were strongly liberal, in the Pete Seeger mold. We certainly had a strong sense of right and wrong, and we certainly believed a lot that was wrong with society was the fault of the moneyed class. I think all of us to some extent believed ourselves to be socialists.’" - We all want to change the world: Rock and politics from Elvis to Eminem (2003) (x)

#Peter Tork #1980s #80s Tork #Tork videos #<3 #Tork quotes #Pete Seeger #Seeger's Theme #The Monkees #Monkees #60s Tork #00s Tork #<333 #Tork banjo #Headquarters Radio #Disc and Music Echo #We All Want To Change The World: Rock and Politics from Elvis to Eminem #can you queue it

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wilwheaton · 1 year ago

Quote

On August 11, day 102 of the 11,500-person Writers Guild of America (WGA) strike, which has largely shut down the film industry coast to coast, aided by below-the-line workers respecting picket lines and bolstered by 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA), who initiated their own strike on July 14, the studios finally returned to the bargaining table. The Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP), the organization that bargains on behalf of the major studios, offered counterproposals, a long-awaited response to the WGA’s proposals. The two sides met the following week and continued to exchange proposals. Then, on August 22, day 113 of the WGA strike, the two sides met again, but with an important addition: previous negotiating sessions had been led by AMPTP president Carol Lombardini, the studios’ hired hand, while at this one, the bosses who make the decisions were in the room. Disney CEO Bob Iger, Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav, Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos, and NBCUniversal’s Donna Langley came to the table to face the WGA’s elected leadership in the room outside of the AMPTP’s Sherman Oaks, California, headquarters where the negotiations have taken place. Workers, suffering the devastating effects of a months-long strike, hoped that the studios might finally offer counterproposals that meet their needs. Instead, the bargaining session led to further unraveling. “We accepted [the] invitation and, in good faith, met tonight, in hopes that the companies were serious about getting the industry back to work,” wrote the WGA negotiating committee in a message to members following the meeting. “Instead, on the 113th day of the strike — and while SAG-AFTRA is walking the picket lines by our side — we were met with a lecture about how good their single and only counteroffer was.” The two sides had agreed to adhere to a media blackout, vowing not to leak information about the proposals to third parties. Yet immediately following the August 22 session, the AMPTP publicly released a document highlighting elements of their counterproposal. “This was a meeting to get us to cave,” said the WGA leadership, “which is why, not twenty minutes after we left the meeting, the AMPTP released its summary of their proposals.”

The Hollywood Studios Still Aren’t Serious About Ending the Writers’ Strike

These sociopath CEOs are hearing it from shareholders, who want us to get back to work. The shareholders are making it clear that the psychopath CEOs can release the LESS THAN ONE PERCENT of their compensations to get us back to work.

So the sociopath CEOs put on a big show of coming back to bargain and work this out ... and when the WGA sits down to bargain, these sociopath CEOs have the fucking nerve to just lecture the WGA about how great their absolute garbage offer is. The offer WGA rejected because it didn’t address any of the issues on the table.

These sociopath CEOs are the problem:

Disney CEO Bob Iger, Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav, Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos, and NBCUniversal’s Donna Langley

These sociopath CEOs are greedy and entitled. That any one of them thought that lecturing WGA, then gaslighting members (in violation of not just the agreed upon media blackout, but likely in violation of labor law) would move us any closer to getting back to work tells you everything you need to know about who the problem is.

Fuck these scumbags, fuck their greed, and fuck their gaslighting.

#wga solidarity #wga strike #sag aftra #union strong

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circe69 · 2 years ago

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𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇 (FEM!READER X SIMON RILEY)

wc: 1.7 - genre: suggestive fluff - narrative: you get snowed in with ghost and a none-working heater. GASP. whatever shall you do to stay warm? muahahah. - warnings: makeout at the end, again, suggestive, other than that nothing.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"Ghost, Ghost do you copy? Over."

A male's voice booms through your partner's radio, cutting through the loud silence of the blizzard blowing your ears out.

Ghost pressed down on a button after muttering not-so-quiet curses, "Yeah, copy, out." His voice was angry, like it always was, probably upset at the fact that he was stuck with one of the newest trainees, a woman who knew how to shoot but not necessarily where to aim.

"Y/N, you coming?" He demanded over his shoulder. "Yeah, right behind you Lieutenant."

You were slightly terrified, Ghost was the one you didn't want to be stuck with ever, especially stuck with in a snowstorm. The two of you trekked up a giant hill and awaited Captain Price's further instructions, if the signal would even allow.

"Good. There's a safe house up over the hill. It's a log cabin, not in perfect condition by any means, but it'll keep you warm. Over." Price's voice came through staticky, barely comprehensive, but Ghost understood every word.

He sighed, "Roger that." He stayed quiet for a while before asking you, without even turning around, "You hear all that?" You had to swallow to moisten your dry throat before speaking up. "Yes sir." Snow was stuck in your boots, making you yearn for any sort of warm comfort. The weather was unpredictable, meaning neither of you were prepared to be snowed on. You prayed the cabin had hot water and a large supply of soft blankets.

As you neared the house, it was almost pretty. Despite the water damage and evasive vines covering the sides, the snow almost made it seem fairytale-like, from a movie or something. Ghost shook the snow off his boots on the last step and you did the same, trying to act like you knew what you were doing, but you ended up stubbing your toe and silently groaning under your breath.

Entering the cabin, it wasn't any warmer than it was outside. You started to interject but Ghost stopped you mid-sentence, "Don't get your panties in a twist, I need to turn on the AC."

Your jaw still agape at his comment, you watched him throw off his backpack and gear on the nearest couch and storm back outside. While he hopefully fixed the air conditioning, you took it upon yourself to check the place, opening and closing doors, cabinets, turning on the water and smiling at how hot it was. Opening a closet close to the kitchen, you found it to be stocked with pillows and fuzzy duvets, quilts, and towels. You'd never been so excited to see sheets.

Ghost opened the screen door and slammed it, maybe he thought it was easier than just getting your attention by saying your name, "Bad news."

Oh great. "What?"

He sighed before continuing, "AC won't work. Stupid Price must be having himself a ball back at headquarters, laughing with Soap about how bloody freezing we'll be." His sentences turned into mumbles as he walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the water. He almost groaned at the feeling, and you felt your cheeks flush at the sound.

You said nothing in response but looked back to the closet and chose which blanket, or blankets, you'd wrap around yourself. You reached up to grab a quilt from the top shelf, but when you pulled on it, maybe 5 more came down with it. A few fast footsteps came up behind you, and you felt a presence behind you as they fell on top of you.

You screamed in surprise and turned around to see Ghost was standing with his arms up, trying to support the 20 pounds in blankets. It looked like maybe he tried to catch them, but it didn't work.

Ghost had essentially created a giant tent for you. His body towered over you, and his arms outstretched almost reached the ceiling. You started to belly laugh at the circumstances, but you quieted down when Ghost stayed frustratingly quiet. "What're you laughing about? It's not funny." His statement just made you laugh more, now you were clenching your stomach and bent over, laughing your head off. Ghost's accent was always increasingly stronger when he was angry. You absolutely loved it.

He almost started to smile; you swear you saw it, but before you got a glimpse of his teeth, he got out from under the blankets and left you alone, the weight almost knocking you to the floor. You heard a snicker as he left.

"I'm gonna take a shower, Y/N, feel free to do whatever." You hummed in response, exhausted from folding and putting the blankets back up on the top shelf.

As you heard the water run, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. Sure, I mean, this wasn't the best circumstance you could be in, but maybe Ghost wasn't as awful as you thought. He was definitely attractive and had a sense of humor that he just didn't know how to use, but it was perfect. As you almost smiled to yourself just thinking about it, you heard a banging on the wall, coming from the shower. You jumped in your seat at the noise, and didn't even stand up before you heard Ghost yell, "Hey, get me a towel would ya?" Goodness, he was loud. You could visibly see birds fly away at his screaming.

"Yeah, yeah!" You yelled back, returning to the closet and prepared yourself to open it. Grabbing a white, scratchy towel, you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom, you had to walk through a bedroom to get there. Stepping over Ghost's clothes made your breath accelerate, he'd just left them scattered across the floor.

You knocked on the bathroom door, "Come in," was the only response you got. It was gruff, demanding. You'd be scared not to. Steam poured out as you opened the door, not sure where to look and where not to.

"Here," you said quietly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the thought of Ghost in the shower. You saw his arm outstretch from behind the curtain, wet fingers ready to grip the towel. You stared at them for a minute before his hand flexed, signaling you to give it to him. After handing him the towel, "Thanks," was all he said.

You didn't know what to say, so you stumbled on your words as you spoke, "Is the water hot at least?"

Ghost laughed deeply, making your stomach churn, "Smoking." You chuckled awkwardly before bolting out of the bathroom, unable to make any more small talk that close to his naked body. How could anyone?

You heard the water turn off and climbed under your covers on the rickety couch, if Ghost were to come out, you'd pretend you were asleep and had been for a while. You could hear his bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, his clothes being slid on and all the yawns and quiet groans escaping his mouth.

He opened the bedroom door and your eyes slammed shut. "Oi."

You said nothing, but you could sense him getting closer to the couch. "I know you're not asleep, there's no way anyone could on that thing."

One eye blinked open to find Ghost's face hovering over yours from behind the couch. His wet hair dripped onto your face, and he hesitatingly wiped it off with his fingers. "Sorry 'bout that," he whispered.

"S' fine," you whispered back, shamelessly staring at every part of his face.

"Let me sleep here. You already complain about your back all the time. Don't need anymore."

You rolled your eyes and closed them again before turning over on your pillow, your back now facing him. "No way, I was here first."

He scoffed, "Unbelievable. I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Ghost started to walk away before you rolled your eyes once more and jumped up from the couch, making a run for the bedroom with a pillow under your arm. "What the-," Ghost said as you ran past him. You jumped on the bed and immediately sighed when you pulled the covers up, "It's freezing, it'd be stupid not take advantage of human warmth. It's like, the only thing we're good for."

Ghost cocked an eyebrow and slowly walked to the other side of the bed with his arms crossed over his huge chest. "The only thing, huh?" He got underneath the covers carefully after shutting the last lamp off, and you shivered as his skin brushed against yours.

"Ghost, you're freezing!" Your teeth chattered for dramatic effect, and he placed a hand on the back of your neck just to make you squeal. You did just that, giggling and trying to peel his freezing hand away but it was no use; he plastered his other hand on the other side of your head to hold himself up as his hand warmed up from your skin.

"I guess you're right, warmth is the only thing you got going f' ya, isn't it?" He teased, and you slapped his arm. "How dare you." You whispered.

His arm rested on your bare waist, even though it took a long time for it to get there. Ghost was never good with women, touch, admiration of any kind, but he'd be willing to embarrass himself for you. You squirmed slightly at the feeling, but allowed yourself to scooch closer to him, taking his touch as words in and of itself. Come closer. Touch me back.

Your hand slowly made its way up his bicep, squeezing every so often at the muscle. His eyes were low and hooded as they watched you watch him, feel him. Once you looked up at him, your arms now wrapped around his neck, you could feel his breath on your mouth; that's how close your faces were. You watched his lips, open and close, his tongue licked his bottom one, and that was all you needed.

You took ahold of him, putting your lips on his. It was slow at first, careful, gentle. Until your hands drifted up his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly, and it elicited a soft groan from him. You opened your mouth, and Ghost followed after you. Now he was greedy, hungry, starving. His tongue swept across your lips first before making contact with your own tongue. You broke from the kiss, slightly panting and lips swollen. You suddenly realized how hot it had gotten, and so had Ghost.

"See? Human warmth." You said into Ghost's neck after burying yourself into him. You felt his jaw flex, most likely from a smirk, and he pulled the covers up over both of you. "Whatever."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x y/n #modern warfare #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #circe69scribbles

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spdrvyn · 9 months ago

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tearful territory

miguel and a sensitive, tearful reader. you try to overcome the obstacle that is sobbing and crying whenever you're confronted by your ever stern and stoic boss, but your habit gets the best of you. no matter how hard you try to hide it.

hurt/comfort. miguel is bad with feelings. reader is bad with regulating their feelings. bad feeling and bad feeling regulation everywhere! thank you for this ask, anon <3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You've been labeled as the family crybaby for as long as you could remember, so when you moved out, you'd figured that the habit of tearing up over even the tiniest of inconveniences would evade you. After all, you were now a hardened vigilante, beating up bad guys, saving a bunch of people should have gotten you tough skin.

Wrong! While you have obviously improved and it hasn't been as bad as when you were still a kid, the tears that found themselves home in your eyes were now just protected by a mask, a symbol of your heroic deeds that hides the weak, meek, and fragile person beneath it.

As you got recruited into Spider Society though, your mask was on more than half of the time. Even when eating, you only had it half-lifted just in case push came to shove.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. More than. But you'd rather bare the strange looks of people passing by you rather than have a full cafeteria of spiders witness you cry. You certainly didn't need to be labeled as Spider Society crybaby too, making work arounds for your habit was working for you now anyway.

Unfortunately, the universe is cruel. Oh-so cruel.

You were a relatively new addition to the Spider Society which means that the head honcho had been doting on you for a while now, doting was a strong word, but he'd call you into his office to give you feedback on your performance in missions so far.

Completely fine, besides most of the reports had been positive. Though, the thing about Miguel is that he's actually an uplifting boss when he can be. Which means he always gave you advice, tips to help you get better next time, and pointed out your mistakes from each mission.

Again, completely fine! You were okay with criticism, more than okay with it. But that lump that formed in your throat, the warmth that crept into your face, it functioned like clockwork. So you've just resorted to keeping your mask on whenever you had a meeting with him too, problem solved.

Another thing you didn't know about Miguel though was despite his lack of a sixth, spider-like sense, he'd a habit of his own. To be an observer, to pick up on the small details of the people he worked with. Even if he only saw them by mere chance, only passing by some in the multiple hallways of headquarters on occasion.

It wasn't rocket science, even if Miguel did know rocket science, to figure out that you had an... issue with dealing with the slightest forms of rejection. Aside from the obvious hint that you were always masked around him, he also noticed that you were radio silent for most of the meetings, only interjecting with quiet 'mhm's and 'okay's.

You were so quiet around him that it almost made him seem chatty. Miguel. Chatty. Those two words could not be in the same sentence, yet you made it possible.

He didn't want to force you to take your mask off, the end goal wasn't to see you cry, but after a few months of having literal one-on-one meetings with him, he hadn't really sparked any form of connection with you.

This time when you were called in, you two went through the ropes per usual. It didn't seem like you noticed Miguel's (un)conscious efforts to soften his tone, to relax his shoulders, and to not look completely stone-faced when talking to you.

Miguel wasn't particularly used to this, has he had people cry in front of him? More than too many times, but never had he seen your case before. It made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours, to care so much about his input that you'd hide shedding even a single tear in front of him.

The approach to the end of the meeting was steadfast, but before he let himself dismiss you. He asked, "Why do you always keep your mask on?"

He knew fully well the reason why, but to hear it come from your mouth, would make it even more worthy of an answer.

But the thing is that you don't answer him. It's the awkwardest moment of his life, he thinks. Two of you just standing there, his brows knit together in confusion and he's about to repeat his question or ask if you heard him until the smallest of squeaks ring in his ears and now you're turning your head away and clasping a hand over your mouth to conceal your noises.

He followed in your direction, but he can't even see your face. Your shoulders shook as your fingers sloppily pulled your mask up so that you could furiously swipe at the tears that streamed down from your eye. You bit at your lip so hard to silence yourself to the point where you could be crying about how you're about to draw blood simply from the force of it.

Miguel hadn't said anything, you couldn't see him either. How could you? You literally just broke down crying in front of him, there's no way you could ever show your face again here.

You want to say something, you tried to at least. But all you get out is a choked, "Sorry, I'm-- Sorry." To which you don't even get a response to, but you can feel it. That thousand yard, judgemental stare that you always get for reacting like this.

Which only caused you to get more shaken up when Miguel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which he uses to manuever you closer to him and to let him see your tear-struck face. Your first instinct to cower, you want to bring your hands to your face and peel your skin off like a banana peel, but Miguel doesn't let you.

In his other hand is a tissue to when he tenderly presses just below your eyes to wipe at the wetness, that hand on your shoulder moves to your chin and he lifts your face upward to get a good look at you. He doesn't look angry, rather concentrated. Locked in.

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep it together, the onslaught of a really bad headache is rising over the horizon like it always does. Once Miguel's done, he discards of the tissue before he takes off your mask completely and sets it aside on his desk. The hand on your chin remains, a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other so your face looks a little smushed right now. A sight he'd like to appreciate if not for the circumstances.

"So is this a common thing or?" The question almost seems a little unserious in nature, but that is mainly just the product of Miguel's awkwardness. He doesn't particularly do feelings, and he can't ask if you're okay because that might just lead to even more crying.

Your voice is too dead to properly reply, you move your face in a half nod considering the grip he has on you. "And you've been wearing your mask because you don't want me to see?" He asks again, you nod more bashedly.

A thin hum of understanding is all you can hear for him and he lets go of your face, but you can't hide anymore. Your mask is somewhere on his desk, it's managed to disappear among the slight mess that there is. It's awkward again, no words coming from either of you until–

"You're dismissed. Come back tomorrow." What? That's it? You put on this embarrassing display, you bawled in front of him, and he's letting you go? No lecture about how you need to be stronger of anything?

The thought chases you in your dreams later on in the night. You found it hard to fall asleep that you swore you saw the sun peeking through the blinds once you were mentally fatigued enough to succumb to your exhaustion, you groggily swung over to Miguel's lab, your grip on your webs were too loose for your own safety but you managed to get over to him without any incidents.

However, once his platform comes to a clicking halt, Miguel's back is turned to you. You notice that he wears a long sleeved turtleneck over his spider suit, a combination of articles you haven't seen on him before.

The screen he was paying attention to turns off as he picks up a coffee cup on his right hand side and he holds it up to you, "It's colder out today."

Whether that's to answer for the coffee or the drip, you don't mind. Silently taking the beverage, it brings warmth to your hand and you assume that it's freshly brewed considering the steam that comforts your cold cheeks. Miguel's attempt at small talk, despite how awkward, makes you feel a bit better.

Maybe you needed this. This kind of one-on-one meeting. It's clear that he came to that same conclusion too, but for now, you'll enjoy your coffee, sit in the decreasingly uncomfortable silence, and look forward to the days you won't cry as much anymore.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #spiderman 2099 #x reader #x you #x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n

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secular-jew · 2 months ago

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From a real Lebanese (Phoenician).

‎I realize that when I speak my mind as a free human being, there will be responses. I can handle that.

‎However, people who are of the opposite conviction (mostly from the medieval Middle East) always respond with the same modus operandi... Every single time someone disagrees with them, they answer by calling us names like Donkey, Pig, or Dog (حمار، خنزير، كلب hmar, khanzeer, or kaleb) which they intend as big insults. They also call us either 'Zionists' or 'traitors' or 'agents'.

‎They simply have no logical answer, and they are so pathetically childish.

‎My feelings are not hurt. Far from it. But seeing so many here in the US chanting "I am Hamas" causes me to see the need to enlighten those who don't know the detailed history of the past 50 years.

‎Why do we oppose terrorist and don’t agree with their terrorism and savagery?

‎Here is the long history recap, told from my personal perspective.

‎I grew up in Lebanon with friends from all faiths: Druze, Muslim, and various Christians. We laughed and played and got along. Lebanon was generally peaceful and safe.

‎We welcomed the Palestinians as refugees to Lebanon.

‎The border between Lebanon and Israel was generally quiet compared with other Arab nations. Many Lebanese did not want war. Instead, we desired to live in peace and tranquility. We wanted prosperity, trade, tourism, and banking. The Lebanese used to be known as having joie de vie and some of the most fun people to be around.

‎Lebanon was referred to as “the Switzerland of the Middle East” for its beauty and its desire to remain peaceful and neutral and a bridge between the east and west.

‎Lebanon was also called “the Riviera of the Middle East”, "California on the Eastern Mediterranean", and “Green Lebanon” because trees covered the hills and mountains and there was no desert.

‎Beirut was known as "the Paris of the Middle East". Lebanon's Golden Age was a period characterized by its natural beauty, including snow-capped mountains, warm beaches, and a pristine coastline. Beirut was a glamorous city with luxury hotels, nightclubs, and a vibrant cultural and intellectual life. It was a popular destination for movie stars.

‎Tourists flocked to Lebanon. They went snow skiing in the morning then drove 2 hours to Beirut to water ski in the Mediterranean the afternoon of the same day. It was on everyone’s bucket list.

‎Tourists were safe and they had so much fun that they did not want to leave. Many came back year after year.

‎Over time, the Palestinians created a state-within-a-state and there were areas where they prevented even the Lebanese army from entering. Which country would accept that? Knowing the trouble it will eventually cause, the Lebanese started to become bitter about the situation.

‎Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser wanted to make Lebanon part of the United Arab Republic, causing a civil war in 1958.

‎I was in Middle School when the six-day war erupted in June of 1967. School was nearing summer break. We went out for our lunch break and heard that war has started. I saw Israeli fighter jets dog fighting with Syrian jets overhead. the Syrian jets lost.

‎Because Lebanon is very small, we could catch AM radio stations from the surrounding countries. All the Arab stations repeated the same lie: "Our forces have destroyed the enemy's air force, and we have reached the outskirts of Jerusalem." All lies and propaganda from Radio Egypt, Radio Damascus, and Radio Amman. Same garbage from each station. Propaganda in the news continues to this day. If a radio station does not toe the line, the regime will shut it down.

‎To hear the truth, we turned to Radio Israel, Voice of America, and the BBC.

‎Three years later, the PLO started fighting against the King of Jordan. Their headquarters were in Amman, Jordan and even though they were refugees in Jordan, they tried to overthrow King Hussein. The king's forces surrounded them and almost killed every single fighter. The world called for a cease fire and forced King Hussein to relent. That was a major mistake. The same mistake is being repeated these days when the world asks Israel to stop firing. When the world does that, the problem never ends. It only becomes a bigger problem. The world had repeatedly made that mistake in the Middle East.

‎The PLO relocated to Beirut. They started firing at Israel from Lebanese territory, causing Israel to retaliate against Lebanese territory. Who would blame them for retaliating?

‎Again, we did not want war. We wanted peace.

‎Knowing that civil unrest was on the horizon, I went to America to study medicine hoping that by the time I completed my studies, the situation would have calmed down. Little did I know what the future held.

‎In 1975, the PLO caused the devastating civil war that engulfed Lebanon for 15 years. My parents were displaced and lost everything. So did many families. The toll was horrendous.

‎The town where I was born was located in the mountains outside Beirut, only about 30 minutes by car. My family could not go there because of the civil war and lost access to our house for over 10 years. Because it was a house owned by Christians, it was hit on more than one occasion while other homes nearby were OK. The roof had a hole in it from artillery shells. It was repaired, yet more shells hit it, sending the message not to return to town.

‎Our orchards used to have apple trees, peach trees, cherry trees, olive trees, sumac, artichoke, pine trees, mulberry trees, fig trees, and other trees. Not being tended to nor watered, they all died. Even the stones used for terracing our orchard were looted. Thus, our neatly terraced land became a worthless desolate wasteland.

‎My brother was kidnapped, other friends died. We had an apartment in Christian East Beirut. The area was besieged for a while and there were times when there was no bread. Artillery fired from Muslim west Beirut was so intense at times that even crossing the narrow street to the bomb shelter was incredibly dangerous. My mother developed heart disease and Parkinson's from the stress and fear.

‎My family were on the run from Beirut to the Metn district, then to the Bekaa, then to Cyprus, then back to various areas in Lebanon. The war had made them nomads.

‎There were so many other stories that my family endured, but I will omit them for brevity's sake.

‎The Syrian army entered Lebanon as ‘peacekeepers’ and destroyed Lebanon. For many years, the Syrian army occupied our house in the mountains and used it as their headquarters in the town. To remain warm and acting like uncivilized primitives, they lit fires inside the house on our ornate ceramic-tiled floor in the living room.

‎In the 1980's, Hezbollah came to existence and wanted Lebanon to be part of the Iranian Islamic caliphate.

‎Syria occupied Lebanon ruthlessly. Many Lebanese were taken to Syrian jails and tortured. Many never returned.

‎The war "ended", and all factions were disarmed except Hezbollah. Syria and the Shiites were in control and dictated that. Hezbollah kept getting stronger due to intense backing from Iran. For years, Lebanon remained an occupied country. Syria plundered Lebanon and became rich.

‎Syria and Iran, using Hezbollah and their own agents, began assassinating any leader who opposed them. They killed Christians and Sunnis alike. In 2005, Bashar Al Assad 'summoned' Prime Minister Rafik Hariri (a Sunni Muslim) to Damascus and 'ordered' him to do something, threatening that if he did not toe the line, Assad would 'break his head'. Hariri did not toe the line and was assassinated in February 2005. Hezbollah were the ones who committed the act.

‎The cowardly Iranian regime had established Hezbollah as a proxy to fight Israel. In essence, cowardly Iran used Lebanon to fight Israel, causing the destruction of Lebanon while Iranian territory remained safe.

‎So back to my first thought. The opposition cannot handle the truth. The only thing they can do is call us names.

‎I have thick skin. We have gone through a lot of trials and tribulations and adversity wreaked upon us by these savage terroristic animals.

‎Thank you, Israel, for Nasrallah's demise. It may create an opportunity for peace, but only if Lebanese leaders have the courage to seize the moment.

‎I will repeat what the terrorists and their supporters don’t want to hear: The Iranian Regime, The Syrian Regime, all proxies of Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas, Houthis, ISIS, Al Qaeda, The PLO, Islamic Jihad, PJ, PFLP, Syrian Baathist Party, all the Communist parties, all of these and more have been CANCERS in the World. They oppress their own people and us alike. They are savage animals who are stuck in the seventh century with the mentality of brutal conquests and war.

‎Call me what you like. I was born a Phoenician, not an Arab. The terrorists took away my county, but God gave me America. I am grateful and I am blessed.

‎I'm going to have an awesome day, and the terrorists are going to get their rears kicked. Have a good night.

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myerssimp21 · 5 months ago

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Knight's Captive (YAN!Arkham Knight)

Huddled in a cramped cupboard within the shattered remnants of an abandoned cafe in Gotham, you held your breath, praying the Arkham Knight's militia wouldn't find you. Outside, the chaos of the city being occupied by the Knight's forces echoed through the walls.

Through the slats of the cupboard door, you glimpsed the boots of soldiers sweeping the area. Fear gripped you as their footsteps drew closer, their voices mingling with the clatter of debris.

"Clear this place out. No one stays," one soldier barked, his voice cold and authoritative.

Just as panic threatened to overwhelm you, the Knight's modulated voice crackled over their comms. "Hold. Wait," he commanded, his words tinged with a metallic edge. Unknown to you, he activated his heat vision to scan the area, ensuring the vicinity was cleared of threats. "There."

"Look what we found, boss. A lost little lamb," one soldier jeered, suddenly pulling you out of your hiding place after a moment of tense silence, gun precariously pressing against your temple as he laughed at your shaking.

"Hold your fire," the Knight's voice cut through the mockery, approaching you. His interest was piqued by your strange presence amidst the city's turmoil.

"Why is a 'good girl' like you still in Gotham?" the Knight's tone was curious but mostly smug as he interrogated you, observing you clutching your Gotham University sweater tightly. Your sweater implies you're a student, and your clean appearance starkly contrasts the chaos surrounding them.

"I couldn't evacuate in time," you admitted tearfully, your voice barely above a whisper, seeking refuge in your sweater as if it could shield you from the harsh reality of these uniformed men sneering and the presence of their intimidating commander.

There's a beat of silence, and you hesitantly turn your teary eyes up to him, meeting the fearful mask with an expression that makes him hesitate to turn you loose into the streets. Someone like you clearly wasn't meant to be out there with the others, among the animals who either stayed or migrated to Gotham after the city was evacuated. You'd surely become a toy for the sick fucks out there who would delight in a pretty piece of prey like you, not to mention the cloudburst that would leave Gotham uninhabitable.

The Knight tilts his head slightly, considering your words and the vulnerability etched across your face. "Finish sweeping the cafe. Bring her," he instructs his militiamen, his voice firm and commanding. Most of them move to set up a checkpoint, leaving you to be roughly escorted by a militia commander as the Knight leads the way back to the armored vehicles waiting outside.

En route to militia headquarters in the back of an armored vehicle, silence hung heavy between the Knight and you. You glanced at him timidly, your fear palpable in the tense atmosphere.

"Are you going to hurt me?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the rumble of the streets outside although you tried to speak up.

The Knight regarded you with a cold, calculating gaze. "Stay out of the way of my men and don't cause any problems. You'll be fine," he replied, his tone icy but tinged with an underlying tension.

As the vehicle rumbled through the war-torn streets of Gotham, your thoughts raced with fear and uncertainty. Why had fate led you to this moment? What did this Knight want with someone like you?

As you pulled into the heavily defended checkpoint you assumed was his headquarters, the radio in the vehicle buzzed with a voice frustratedly announcing a diamondback had been hit but was still operational.

"Alpha Target is engaging. I need to go," the Knight stated abruptly, his focus shifting away from you and back to the ongoing battle against Batman. You quickly hopped out of the car, not wanting to get in between him and his mission, and are pulled along by the armored man who has been yanking you along this whole time, being led to a warehouse for the Knight to return when he's done.

Inside the grim and foreboding walls of militia headquarters hours later, the Knight continued his intermittent interrogations of you, probing for answers about your presence in Gotham.

"I stayed to find someone. I lost communication with them before Gotham was cut off," you finally confessed, your voice straining with vulnerability.

The Knight's expression hardened at your revelation, his demeanor becoming cold and distant. "I'm not diverting any militia resources to find your friend," he stated bluntly, his words carrying a finality that left no room for argument. "We have more important things to do."

"I didn't expect any militia resources to divert," you stammer, "I just thought I'd be honest with you since it sounds like the cloudburst will drop soon." He's studying your face as your gaze falls to the floor at his intense scrutiny. "I care about him a lot," you add, biting your lip anxiously at the thought of your friend being out there.

The Knight remains silent, his masked face unreadable as he processes your words. It reminds you of the strategy detectives use to make a suspect talk, choosing to let awkward silences hang to prompt them to talk more.

You gather your courage, "I plan to split from the militia forces and try to find him."

At this, the Knight scoffs, his tone dripping with condescension. "You really think you can just wander off? The cloudburst is going to leave Gotham in ruins," he sneers. "Sticking with the militia is your only chance at surviving. Don’t get any ideas about leaving."

"It’s not fair for me to survive and not him," you protest weakly.

The Knight suddenly brings a hand up to press down on a button in his suit after your protest hangs in the air for another awkward moment of silence you refuse to break this time.

"Listen carefully," he begins, and you look up, thinking he was talking to you. But then he continues, his voice authoritative, and you realize he's speaking to his soldiers in his comms line. "Establishing new Beta Target. She's staying at HQ indefinitely."

Hope that had been swirling in your heart came crashing down with his words, his mask coldly staring at you as he went further, "No one lets her leave headquarters under any circumstances except with me."

With his hand now off the comms button, the Knight's helmet eyes bore into your teary ones. "You're part of my operation now," he explained. "Don’t give my men a reason to put you back in line."

You feel suddenly angry and try to mask it, but are unsure if he picked up on it or not. It seems he did.

"You'll thank me when you realize you're the only one who made it out of Gotham alive tonight," he adds and the thought makes you want to shudder, feeling helpless. Maybe he's right. As the Knight responded to chatter on his comms line, your tears finally fell. He turned abruptly at the sight of them and stormed off, barking into the mic about dispersing more tanks across Gotham's streets.

The hours that followed were marked by your downtrodden demeanor. You were sullen, quiet, and reserved, a stark contrast to your earlier state. The Knight noticed the change, his irritation growing with each passing hour. Finally, his patience snapped.

"What's your friend's name?" he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. He was hoping to placate you, to get you to stop being so emotional over his decision.

You hesitated, then replied softly, "Tim. Tim Drake."

The Knight froze. His cowl obscured his face, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. Silence stretched between you, heavy and oppressive. "Repeat that," he finally said, his voice oddly strained.

"Tim Drake," you repeated, a worried tone creeping into your voice. "I know him from Gotham University. I usually have a hard time making friends, so I'm scared one of my only friends is in danger."

The Knight continued in silence, doing the damned detective thing again. The pressure of his unyielding gaze made you fidget.

"He’s a computer sciences major," you added sheepishly. "I’m terrible with tech on that level and I needed to know how to use a data entry thing for my psychology class and he helped me out a lot."

The Knight surveyed you, his gaze intense as he tried to ascertain if you truly didn’t know that Tim was Red Robin. His temper, always on a short fuse, ignited.

"Drake probably doesn’t even remember you exist right now, if he's even alive. People show their true colors in a crisis." The Knight snaps, watching as you look stricken before adding, "You’ve got guts staying behind, but it wasn’t exactly the smartest move. Most people know better."

You recoiled at his words, confusion and hurt evident on your face. The Knight stormed off, unable to contain his rage. He needed an outlet, something to vent his fury on.

Outside, he found a group of Penguin's thugs who had strayed too close to the headquarters. He descended on them with a brutality that left his militia in hushed awe. The sounds of his violence echoed back to you, leaving you feeling even more meek and unsure. You didn’t understand why he was so angry, but you resolved to do whatever you could to avoid further inciting his wrath.

As you sat in the headquarters, one of the militia men hovering near you spoke into his comms. "The Knight's going crazy on the thugs outside," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and fear. "I think he's murdering them."

You shuddered, the words sending a chill down your spine, the reality of your situation sinking in deeper with each passing moment.

You weren’t sure why he was going ballistic or why he would tell you those horrible things about Tim like that. He sounded so angry and… bitter, might be the best word for the biting tone his voice modulator spat at you. You swallowed, overhearing two militia men mutter between themselves about how the knight was a wild card sometimes. How he was quick to anger and quite unforgiving.

You weren’t sure why he’d resolved to pick you up from that abandoned cafe or why he stopped his men from shooting you like a rat, or why he blatantly refused to let you leave, but you had a small hope that you’d get out of this unscathed if you played your cards right. He seemed to admire the way you cared for others even if he thought you were stupid for it. You’d try to do as he said and avoid causing issues for his army. It was the smart thing to do.

Some time later, after he's taken a breather after exerting himself like that, the Arkham Knight overheard some of his militia men talking about the dazed look you had as you gazed over the edge of their headquarters rooftop access. His paranoia flared up. Quickly, he arrived and firmly escorted you to his private quarters, his grip unyielding.

"This is the safest place in the building," he gruffly said, gesturing you inside. "Only I can access it, so it's the most secure."

You protested, trying to pull away, but he snarled, "If I can't even trust you not to jump, you're staying in here. My militia is too busy to babysit." His eyes bore into yours, his anger barely contained. “I saved you. Now do as you’re told.”

You remembered what he did to the thugs outside the compound and quietly complied, filing into the room to avoid angering him further.

"I need to get back to work," he said sternly, leaving and locking the door electronically with several mechanisms behind him. You dejectedly looked at the floor, feeling bummed out.

You spent some time staring at the heavily secured door, contemplating whether there was any chance of escape. Realizing the futility of it, you decided to clean up a little first. Exploring the room, you confirmed there was a bathroom in his private quarters. You poked around through his drawers, searching for clean clothes to wear after you showered and getting distracted. The drawers contained an array of items, some intriguing, some mundane. You found tactical gloves, utility belts, and spare masks, alongside various types of ammunition and parts of guns. There were no complete weapons, as he had correctly assumed you probably wouldn't know how to assemble them. One drawer held maps of Gotham with strategic points marked, communication devices, and encrypted notebooks.

Among the everyday essentials, you found t-shirts, hoodies, and a few pairs of jeans, alongside toiletries like shaving cream, razors, and cologne. In the medical supplies drawer, there were bandages, painkillers, and antiseptics. The drawer with was you assumed was either personal items or super special military items was securely locked, hinting at the Knight's private life.

Carefully selecting some casual clothing he likely wouldn’t miss, you pocketed a small screwdriver from the maintenance tools. The thought of having something, anything, that might help you later was reassuring.

As you curiously fiddled with the lock on the mysterious drawer, a voice suddenly crackled through an intercom you hadn’t noticed in the room. “Are you trying to piss me off?” The Knight’s angry tone startled you, and you felt your cheeks grow hot.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I just wanted to shower and didn’t have a clean change of clothes. I shouldn’t have been prying beyond that.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” he cut you off briskly. “There are clean towels in the bathroom. Use them.”

The intercom went silent, and you shyly asked, “Should I change in the bathroom?” implicitly questioning whether there was a camera in the room.

“If you want,” he replied, slyly ducking your real question.

Feeling uncertain but not wanting to take any chances, you opted to undress and change in the bathroom after your shower, wary of the possibility of being watched.

You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and stress of the last couple days. The warmth was a welcome comfort, a small respite from the chaos surrounding you. After washing thoroughly, you stepped out and reached for a towel, feeling a bit more human again.

As you dried off, you noticed his deodorant on the counter. Hesitating only a moment, you decided to use it. You hated going without and the though unfamiliar, the scent made you feel a little more put together. Brushing your teeth with your finger and some toothpaste you found in the bathroom, you felt even more refreshed.

Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sweats, you felt a semblance of comfort. The clothes were too big, but they were clean and soft. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and despite your unease about sleeping in the Knight’s private chambers, the feeling of cleanliness brought a sense of safety. You stood uncertainly for a moment, staring at the bed. It felt strange, knowing this was the Arkham Knight's private space. But exhaustion eventually won over apprehension, and you reasoned that he wouldn't have confined you to his private chambers if he didn't expect you to use his things. Still, you made sure not to disturb or overstay your welcome. Carefully, you climbed into the oversized bed, pulling the sheets over yourself as sleepiness weighed heavily on your eyelids.

From his position in Gotham, the Knight kept an eye on the various tank compounds and his militia's defensive preparations against Batman. He sat in the back of a vehicle, watching the screens in front of him with an intense focus. One screen showed a live feed from his quarters, where he watched you just as intently as his other screens. He watched as you hesitated at the edge of the bed, uncertainty evident in your movements. For a moment, he felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a twinge of concern, perhaps, or even a hint of protectiveness. His usually harsh expression softened slightly, and he resisted the urge to intervene through the intercom, eyes glued to your form lingering above his bed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, you relented and settled into the bed he allowed you to use. As you drifted off to sleep, he felt an unexpected sense of calm wash over him. He kept the screen displaying your sleeping form in front of him as he continued to work, the sight somehow soothing amidst the chaos of Gotham.

For a while, he stared in silence, his usually harsh expression softening slightly. There was something oddly soothing about seeing you there, safe and asleep in his space. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite understand or name. The sight placated him, a brief moment of calm amid his relentless campaign against Batman.

Snapping back to the present, he issued a few more orders to his men, prepping them for the next phase of their operation. But even as he spoke, his gaze occasionally flickered back to the screen, ensuring you were still there, still safe, and still his to protect and control.

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