#I swear that it looked better on my Google Drive

[katsukistofu]

prickle me pink

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. fluff. ⭑ katsuki finds himself taking care of the cactus you gifted him against his better judgement.

It’s in the little things he does.

The sticky notes he leaves for you in the bento box he “accidentally” made an extra of and gives to you because he “ain’t wasting perfectly good food,” telling you to drink your damn water and that he’s proud of you, or that you look cute today.

Your favorite snack and a juicebox on your desk in the morning before the bell rings, which you swear you’ve only mentioned liking once and it was when you first met.

Whenever he fusses over your jacket when it’s cold outside and insists you hold hands with him, saying it’s “more work for him if you get sick.” Yet the way he takes off his scarf to wrap you up in its warmth is devastatingly gentle, despite his coarse scoldings.

Homemade chocolates shoved into your hands the moment you arrive at school every single White Day without fail, ignoring the stares from envious onlookers as he tugs you by the hand to walk you to class. The bandaids, only the cute character ones because you’re a stubborn brat who won’t wear anything else no matter how bad you get hurt, and ointment he keeps in his school bag.

Because he knows how accident prone you can be and it drives him insane whenever he sees a new scratch or bruise come from out of nowhere when you were fine moments ago.

Katsuki’s always been meticulous about everything in his life, and that includes loving you.

So the confusion on his face is almost humorously palpable as he squints at the cactus you randomly place in front of him in class one day.

“What is this?” Your boyfriend grumbles, holding his notebooks and pencil case in his hands. “Taking up space on my desk.”

“Suki!” You pout. “That’s mean. I bought this cactus.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because…?”

“‘Cause it reminds me of you!”

The fuck does that even mean, it reminds you of him? This short, misshapen, stubby little thing that needed to be buried in dirt to even stand up on its own? Katsuki snorts, his amusement only growing at the sight of your deepening worried frown.

As if he would ever throw away anything from you. He’d rather take one of his own explosions to the face.

“Thanks, I guess.” Is all he says, his hand coming down to give a strong pat to your head. It was kind of ugly, but whatever. Hell, it was a gift from you that you specifically got for him, and honestly that’s all that mattered. “I’ll take care of it.”

You beam up at him from under his palm, and his heart clenches. “Really?”

“Yeah. Now go sit your ass down and take out that homework I know you forgot to do last night.”

“Yessir!” You mock salute and hurry over to your seat, opening up your shoulder bag.

Denki grimaces as he passes by, pointing at the new green addition to the blond boy’s desk. ��Ew Bakugo, what is that?”

“Shut up, Dunce Face.” Katsuki scowls, protectively moving the pot closer to him. “Your eyes are getting shittier than Glasses’.”

Mina laughs as Denki sulks, now in his own seat, and glances over to where he was pointing at. “Ooh, it’s actually pretty cute!”

“Damn right it is.”

Katsuki’s lips curve slightly in pride, crimson eyes flickering over to your direction where you were hunched over scribbling on paper with scrunched up eyebrows, trying to do some problems on your own while you wait for him to come over. Fuck, you’re cute, he thinks.

“That’s ‘cause my girl picked it.”

After class, Katsuki finds himself googling “how to not kill a cactus” for the first time in his life and of course it’s because of you.

His brow raises as he scans the gardening article on his phone screen.

He’s no green thumb but he’s had some experience and it was pretty easy to keep a plant alive, but just to make sure. Half of it is information he already knows, put your cactus in a good spot to get sunlight, water it once a week, yada yada.

But what catches his eye is the section labeled “Flowering Cacti.”

So they could bloom depending on the species, and only under very nit-picky conditions, like cool to warm temperature fluctuations and specific pollinators. Interesting.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wrangle a bat to get some flowers to grow on it, though he could probably ask that animal-talking extra to help.

“Katsuki!” Something tackles him from behind and he barely budges, already knowing it’s you. It’s muscle memory at this point, the feeling of your soft body against his, etched into the molecules of his skin from all those times you’d sneak into his dorm past curfew to cuddle and how you always fell asleep on him during class field trips, not to mention plane rides.

You peer over his broad shoulder like a hamster peeking out of their hidey hole. “What are you looking at?”

“Nosy.” Katsuki snorts, holding up his phone to your face. Deliberately only showing the guide on how to care for cacti indoors, and not the flowering one. He doesn’t want you to see it, not yet.

─────────

You’re in your boyfriend’s dorm room several days later, finally finishing the last problem on the new sheet of homework you got from Ectoplasm’s class. Bakugo hovers over you to scan your equations, finally giving a satisfied nod.

A jolt of pride courses through him. You got all of them right, just like how he taught you.

“Good job.” Katsuki pats your head and your heart soars. You tilt your head up to give a little smooch to his palm and he blushes, jerking his hand back.

“The fuck?” He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to his mouth in retaliation, pressing a painstakingly soft kiss there, then to your palm too. Katsuki smirks at the way he makes you shakily exhale at his touch. “What was that for?”

“Nothing.” An almost drowsy, content smile spreads across your lips. “Just love you so much.”

"Stop trying to one up me,” Katsuki rasps in your ear. You yelp as his hands squeeze your hips hard, holding onto his toned arms to steady yourself.

“Not trying to! Just telling the truth.” You keep looking at him with a cute, dumb grin on your face, and his breath catches.

Your eyes widen as you sneak a glance at his desk.

“Woah! Katsuki Jr. got taller.”

He snorts, turning his head to also look at the cactus that’s been sitting under his lamp for the past week. “Katsuki Jr.?”

“Yeah because you guys have the same hair.” You exaggerate a dreamy sigh, reaching up to caress his cheek. “He really takes after you, Katsuki Sr.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” He nudges your cheek with his nose, drinking up the delicious sounds of your giggles.

“Can I sit in your lap now?” You ask shyly.

With an eye roll, Katsuki holds his arms out for you to claim the reward he proposed earlier for this study session. “Get over here already.”

His arms wrap comfortably around your waist as you settle in your usual spot between his firm thighs, and he drops his head down and brushes a soft kiss against the crook of your neck.

“I love you too.” The pink blossoming across his cheeks contradicts his gruff tone, but you’ve known him too long to not know better.

Katsuki Bakugo is meticulous in loving you, and that means he never says anything he doesn't mean.

─────────

The vibrations in the pocket of his slacks are becoming so incessant that he can’t ignore them anymore and Katsuki sighs under his breath as he slips it out while Aizawa’s turned to the board to write something.

ass gremlin

sukiiiii

ass gremlin

katsudonnnnn

ass gremlin

kitkattttt

katsu curry

What

ass gremlin

send me pics of our baby pls i wanna see how tall he is now

katsu curry

?

That cactus you bought me two weeks ago

ass gremlin

duh!!!

katsu curry

Later

In my room before we go out

ass gremlin

YAYYAYAY

can u help me pick my outfit too

katsu curry

Duh

We’re matching dumbass

Katsuki’s behind you with a firm hand on your waist to hold you in place when you smirk at the window sill, and he looks up to see that you’re admiring Katsuki Jr.

The cactus was an even more vibrant shade of green than when you first gave it to him, and small, delicate pink flowers were starting to bloom on its fuzzy head.

It took a lot of effort to get those to start growing, but it was all worth it to see the delighted expression on your face right now.

“So you really have been taking care of him like he’s your kid, huh?”

“Our kid.” He corrects you with a grumble against your neck, easily zipping up the back of your dress in one smooth motion. “Told you I would, didn't I? Thing was a pain in the ass to find high potassium fertilizer for.

“Aw, really?” You turn around to face him and he brings you closer as your arms rest on his broad shoulders. “Well… you know how it’s better to have two cats than one, since just one kitty can make them feel lonely?”

He knows that look. Katsuki scowls, roughly poking a dent into your cheek to discourage the mischievous grin that's starting to spread across your face.

“You’ll never guess what I got you for our anniversary.”

“No.”

“But Katsuki Jr.!”

“I raised that little shit, he’ll tough it out.”

“I just thought maybe we could get him a sibling—“

“No.”

ur contact name is ass gremlin bc u have bad habit of smacking his butt when he walks by lol

[powermakar]

This is me Trying - LS2

A/N: I feel so bad for Logan after what has happened. Please don't send any type of hate to Alex.

Summary: James tells Logan that he won't be racing on Sunday and everything goes down hill.

Logan Sergeant x female!reader

Warnings: panic attacks and some swearing

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying, at least I'm trying. 

“-so you won’t be able to drive this weekend” 

“What?” 

“Alex is going to be driving your car this weekend since his car is severely damaged.”

“Oh, okay,” Logan felt numb. He couldn’t feel his hands shaking, but he could see them physically shaking. 

“I know it’s a lot but the team really needs this Logan. Thank you for doing this,” James said before walking off. 

Logan began to feel himself lose touch with reality. It was a feeling he was beginning to feel comfortable with. I mean at this point it was happening every race weekend now, so he just HAD to get comfortable with it. At first, he didn’t know what it was, maybe he was just getting sick; but after a few times and some Google searches, he figured out what it was. 

Panic attacks. 

No one knew that he experienced them. Not James, not his trainer, not Oscar; hell, his own girlfriend did not know that he got them. He had to get out of there fast so no one found out. God, he couldn't even imagine what the media would do if it became public knowledge. 

Tears and ragged breaths while hidden in the corners of his driver’s room became his go-to when he didn’t know what else to do. This time it felt different though. The sobs were louder and his vision was blurrier, he felt weak. He felt stupid. How could someone fuck up so badly and he still would get punished. He knew life wasn’t fair and he knew that Formula 1 wasn’t fair either. 

But fuck, it wasn’t fair. At all. 

The knock on the door did not register the first time, nor the second or third. He only realized someone entered the room when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. 

You, the love of his life, was seeing him at the lowest he had ever been. Gasps in between sobs were loud and short, and Logan felt embarrassed. He felt shameful and afraid. He couldn’t breathe and he was scared for his future. 

“It’s not fair, it's not fair, it’s just not fucking fair. I'm trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. Can’t you see that? Can’t anyone see that,” he babbled out. 

“Logan I- I know that this is hard, you worked so hard. You deserve to be driving, you shouldn’t be placed on the back burner because someone made a mistake. You’ve worked so hard for so long and it kills me to see you like this. Have you thought about how Alex may-,” Logan cut you off before you could say anything else. 

“No, no. Do not even start with Alex. I know he’s better, I know I am a liability, but I know I can try to be better,” he got up suddenly. He felt lightheaded, he felt dizzy. Stumbling around his room trying to get away from you. “I finally out-performed him and it just gets ripped out from underneath me. Literally,” Logan laughs bitterly. He didn’t care what he looked like now, he probably looked like a madman, but who the hell cares anymore?

“Logan- please just listen to me. Alex probably feels like shit. Yes he crashed his car but it's not his fault the team gave him your car. It's the team,” she pauses “It’s- it’s James’ fault.” 

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I just care about the fact that this is probably going to be one of the last times I'm going to be in F1. My time is going to get cut short, no one has any faith in me anymore. I don’t blame them though, I’m failing and I'm terrified,” Logan says. He could finally breathe normally but he could still feel his heart pounding in his ears. 

He didn’t understand any of it. How could he be failing so badly at something he used to be so good at? He glanced back at you, ready to face the disappointment he knew you secretly hid. 

“Just tell me you can’t stand me anymore. Tell me that I embarrass you. Tell me that you hate me. Tell me that you are disappointed in me. Please just tell me, please.”

“Logan-,” you were in shock. You never knew that he felt like this, about himself. He hid it so well, almost to the point where it was impressive. “You know I could never say any of those things to you. I love you so, so much and I'm so proud of you,”

Both of you heard a knock on the door and one of William’s PR managers called out, “Media in 10, Logan!”

How they expected him to go out into the media pen and act like everything was fine was beyond you. Reaching up to cup his face in your hands, you quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell at your confession. Logan gently squeezed your wrist and smiled sadly. A silent, but meaningful conversation.

[whorekneecentral]

Cocoa

Pierre Gasly x Fem!Reader

Warnings: soft boyfriend!pierre, reader is insistent on this one thing, the couch is getting some action, thigh riding, penetrative sex (P in V), choking.

Word Count: 1,638

Author's Note: don't get upset, pierre lowkey gives me the ick so this is my public serve act of the month - writing him :)

merry smutmas series

--

You have your boyfriend drive all around the city until you find the one thing you were looking for. When you finally find it, you decide you want something else.

The noise pulls him away from the simulator, Pierre could hear your grumbling as he made his way to the kitchen. "Mon amour, que se passe-t-il ? Qu'est-ce que tu cherches?" (My love, what's going on? What are you looking for?) He asked as he leant on the wall, arms folded over his chest.

Your back was to the man, "I'm fine." You tell him, sitting on the counter as you dug through the cupboards.

"Is something missing?" He walks over, standing by the counter as he watches you shuffle things around.

"I had this cocoa powder," you shut the door, shifting on the cold marble to face him. "It was in a red tin, I can't remember the name of it but I swear I left it in there."

Pierre's brows furrow, head tilted to the side. "You're sure you left it in there? And you didn't use it all?"

"No, I know I left it in there." You tell him, hopping off of the counter. Your boyfriend shrugs, "I could take you to the store to look some more, if you wanted."

"Okay," you nodded, "let's go."

He looks over at you, watching as you grab your coat. "Oh, now?" He points to the door and you nod, "yeah, come on."

Pierre smiles, shaking his head as he grabs his own coat and his car keys. Only you'd have him running around to look for cocoa powder. Knowing you, it had to be the specific brand you were looking for otherwise you wouldn't buy it.

You were particular like that - part of why Pierre loved you so much.

There you were, walking up and down every single aisle in the store, Pierre following behind you with the shopping cart. You had yet to find what you were looking for but your boyfriend managed to fill the cart up halfway with some bits and pieces he needed.

You were in the aisle with coffee, tea and other things like that. "What was it called again?" He asked, looking up and down the shelves.

"I have no idea," you admit, scanning the shelves for a red tin. Pierre hums, picking up something red. "Was it this?" He shows you, leaning on the handle of the shopping cart.

Looking over, you reach for the tin to get a better look at it. You read the label, looking at the picture. "No," you shook your head, "but I remember it had a picture of a reindeer on it, with some trees or something like that."

Pierre nods, "okay." He takes the tin from you, putting it back on the shelf. You look around some more and Pierre follows you into another aisle before you eventually call it quits and cash out.

Despite not finding the cocoa powder, you still ended up with a trunk full of stuff.

You two checked a few other stores, making your way from one end of the city to the other and you still did not find the thing you were looking for. You had gone as far as googling 'hot cocoa powder with reindeer and trees on packaging', scouring amazon, asking the workers in the store and no one had any idea what you meant or what you were looking for.

After coming out of the last store, you get back into the car - exhausted and you have given up. "Do you want to check anywhere else?" He asked you, looking over to you and you shook your head.

"I give up, Pierre." You sigh, making him chuckle. "But can you stop at the corner shop? I want a Red Bull.. oh and a Kit Kat."

Pierre smiles, "sure, love."

The man drives you towards the corner store, parking right outside before running into the store to pick up what you wanted. He returns a few minutes later, putting the bag into the back with the rest of the stuff before you head home.

Pierre brings the stuff into the house and you unpack it; that had been your deal since you moved in.

You find yourself putting away the stuff from the store, putting whatever had to go into the fridge, into the fridge before putting the rest of the stuff where it needed to go. There's one bag left, the one from the corner store.

Opening it, you take out the Kit Kat and then the Red Bull, but there's something else in the bag. A red tin with a picture of a reindeer in front of some trees.

It was the hot cocoa powder you were looking for.

You set the tin on the counter, running into the living room towards your boyfriend who sat on the couch. Pierre's caught off guard when you jump on him, sending him back on the couch. The man laughs, his arms around you as you sit on top of him.

"You found it!" You smile at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Figured I'd surprise you." He smiles, rubbing your hip. "I take it, it's the right one?"

"Yeah," you nod, leaning down to kiss him. Your hand rests on his jaw, Pierre's other hand finds your lower back, pulling you flat against him. His head tilts to the side when he feels your lips moving down to his neck.

"Wait," he says, pulling you back a bit. "Don't you want the hot-"

"I'm loving on you and you're stopping me to ask about hot chocolate?" You laughed, looking at your boyfriend like he was crazy.

He nods, "yeah you're right, that's wrong of me. Sorry." The man laughs, pulling you back in for a kiss.

His hands find your hips and you shift onto his thigh. He lifts his leg, the sudden change causes you to slide forward, rubbing against the fabric under you. 

You rocked back and forth on his thigh as he kissed you, the two of you only separating for a moment to take your shirt off. Your hands made quick work on undoing the zipper on his hoodie, giving up halfway and pulling on it until he managed to take it off.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

Pierre smiles, looking up at you sitting on his thigh. “What was that?” He teased and you shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your cheeks are red as you look away. 

His eyes fixed on you, his hands guide you back and forth, slowly moving you faster with each push and pull. “So pretty,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders.

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. Your hands on his shoulder, nails digging into the back of them. That was gonna leave a mark.

Pierre flips you two over so you're laying on your back, under him. You look up at him, confused. “Wha- why’d you stop?” 

Your boyfriend pulls your leggings off, tossing it behind him somewhere and you giggle. "Oh," you look at him, watching him as he pushes his own pants down.

Your legs are up on his shoulders when the man leans down to kiss you, pushing into you. Your hips jut towards him, body betraying you. His arm wrapped around your legs, holding them in place when he pushes in a little more, letting you take all of him. 

Pierre can already feel you clench around him, “relax,” he tells you, a hand rubbing your thigh.  

You nod, chest rising and falling with each passing second, your boyfriend's hips dug into the back of your thighs. He watches as your face twists in pleasure, your own hand wrapped around his bicep and your nails dig into him.

"God-" you cut yourself off with a moan, the tip of his cock brushing against the one spot you really wanted it too. "That, do that again." You looked up at him and Pierre was certain he wasn't going to last much longer.

Hair framing your face, the light reflecting off of your skin, the way your back arched and your chest pressed to his.

Pierre thought he had died and gone to heaven; you were an angel on earth.

He leans down to kiss you again, muffling your moans in the process. His lips against yours when he speaks; "just like that baby, c'mon."

“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Pierre moves one of his hands, letting it wrap around your throat. 

You were so close, on the edge of cumming. His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing your clit, rubbing on it and his thrusts were the same as before

Your hand wraps around his wrist, he squeezes at your neck a little harder, your legs dropping from his shoulders to back around his waist. Between him fucking you and his fingers on your clit; you were seeing stars right now, vision blurry and your head tossed back, his name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

Pierre laid flat against you now, his face buried in your neck. Your hand rubbing along his bare, skin sticky and warm. "Babe," you whispered, the man moving around a bit.

"Hm?"

"Can you go warm up some milk for me?" You asked and Pierre laughs, his chest vibrating against yours. "Yeah, baby. Sure." He gets up, putting his boxers on before walking to the kitchen.

You watch from the couch, smiling to yourself as he fills a pot with some milk and sets it on the stove. Wrapping the throw blanket around yourself, you walk to the kitchen and hug your boyfriend from the side. He leans, his arm wrapped around you when he kisses your head.

"You're the best," you tell him, smiling at him. "I know," he says and you laugh, smacking him on the side.

--

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[thebibliosphere]

Hey Joy, you and your followers seem the people to ask on this: I'm legit just looking for a funny tumblr post or twitter screencap I swear blind I saw recently but cannot fuckin find now anywhere online. It was along the lines of "My husband and I practice unethical polyamory, he has his string of little tarts and I've been carrying on an affair with the gardener" or something but far better worded. I've been looking for like a month now and it's driving me up the bloody wall. (But you know what tumblr search is like and google is useless now.) Help me, Joy Demorra, you're my only hope.

Hmm, I am not familiar with this one but it sounds like a @whitepeopletwitter meme.

Let’s throw it to the crowd and see what we find!

[cieloclercs]

Eternal life

Oscar piastri x russian figure skater

the ice queen — oscar piastri

pairing. oscar piastri x russian figure skater!reader

face claim. alina zagitova

warnings. swearing, google translate russian (im sorry), look guys i know the winter olympics were last year but for the sake of this they’re this year ok ?? 🙏 i used pictures from oscar’s sprint podium in spa for singaore (which obviously isn’t accurate plz overlook it hehe)

author’s note. hello anon! i hope you enjoy this, sorry it took so long ❤️

requests are still open for my 1k event! send something in if you’d like <3

liked by oscarpiastri and 76,264 others

yourusername swipe for a fail 🥴

view all comments…

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liked by yourusername and 23,815 others

oscarpiastri Ready to shine in Singapore 🇸🇬🤩

view all comments…

username LET’S GOOO OSCAR

username podium loading…

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oscarpiastri 🤷‍♀️

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oscarpiastri 😊👑

username WOAH WOAH WOAH

username THEYRE INTERACTING OMG EVERYONE STAY CALM

username EXCUSE ME THE CROWN EMOJI?? HES ACKNOWLEDGING THE QUEEN AS HE SHOULD

username no.

username this can’t be happening

username oscarpiastri LEAVE MY WIFE ALONE BITCH 🤺🤺

username y/n you’ve just made everything so much worse 😭

yourusername

replies:

oscarpiastri cute cap, where’d you get it?

↳ yourusername this weird australian guy gave it to me. idk i would have preferred a number 4 🤷‍♀️

↳ oscarpiastri you sure? i heard number 81’s the favourite for a podium this week 😏

↳ yourusername we’ll see 🙃

liked by yourusername and 50,367 others

oscarpiastri First ever F1 podium 🧡 Let’s keep them coming 😉

view all comments…

username YES OSCARRRRR

username my driver 🧡🫶

username LEGEND 🇦🇺🇦🇺🇦🇺

landonorris congrats mate! the extra motivation did you some good 😉

oscarpiastri it sure did :)

username excuse me? 🤨

username lando. what do u know.

username i bet this has something to do with y/n

username girl bffr 🙄

username LANDO I JUST WANNA TALK (tell me what u know rn.) 🔫🔫

mclaren Doing us proud 🥹🧡

*oscarpiastri liked this comment

username best rookie since hamilton button >>>

*liked by yourusername and 5,217 others

carlitosalcarazz Congratulations, amigo! 😁

oscarpiastri Thanks mate! 😊😊

username AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE

username the y/n girlies have been real quiet so far 🤨

username they’re finally realising oscar isn’t just some nobody 😭

username he might not be a nobody but one podium still doesn’t make him good enough 🥰

username y’all are psycho i swear 😭

yourfriend1 ok maybeee he’s not that bad 🙄🙄

*yourusername liked this comment

username omg the y/f/n seal of approval ??? ITS HAPPENING

username calm down nothing’s happened yet 😭 as far as we know they’re not even friends lmao let alone dating

username girl did you even see y/n’s story she was literally in the mclaren garage repping oscar’s merch 😭😭

yourusername incredible 🧡

oscarpiastri Thank you for your support today 🧡 Hope you liked the cap 😊

username wait hold on a second OSCAR GAVE HER THAT CAP???

username HES GIVING HER HIS MERCH NOW??

username oh they DEFINITELY into each other 😏

username oscar’s such a simp oh my god she turns up to one race and he’s giving her his merch 😭😭 what a dork

username i mean it’s y/n y/l/n can you blame him 🤷‍♀️

username i fear we’ve lost her y/n nation 😔

username as much as it pains me to say it i think you might be right 🥲

username i just can’t believe we’ve lost her to a guy who drives in circles for a living 🙄

username doesn’t y/n skate in circles? the shade works both ways honey 😚

liked by oscarpiastri and 90,712 others

yourusername thank you for having me mclaren 🥰 and congratulations to oscarpiastri on your first f1 podium !! i had a blast 🧡🧡

view all comments…

mclaren Glad to have you on board, champ 🧡 See you again soon 😉

*yourusername liked this comment

landonorris you do know oscar’s not the only mclaren driver right 😃

yourusername the only mclaren driver with a podium this week though 🙃

oscarpiastri Thank you Y/N 😊🧡

yourusername 🫶

comments on this post have been limited.

months later…

oscarpiastri

replies:

landonorris ice queen? 🤨

↳ oscarpiastri of course

↳ landonorris simp.

yourusername

replies:

oscarpiastri ouch ☹️

↳ yourusername just telling you what you need to hear, babe ☺️

liked by oscarpiastri and 112,678 others

yourusername олимпийский чемпион! после стольких лет упорной работы я не могу поверить, что эта мечта наконец-то осуществилась 🥹 я хочу поблагодарить многих людей, которые помогли мне достичь этого: моего тренера, моих товарищей по команде, мою семью. я бы не справилась без каждого из вас! 🤍

olympic champion! after all the years of hard work, i can’t believe this dream has finally come true 🥹 there are so many people i want to thank for helping me get to this point: my coach, my teammates, my family. i couldn’t have done this without any of you! 🤍

i also want to thank my boyfriend and number one supporter oscarpiastri for putting up with me these last few months of prep 😭 i don’t know what i would have done without you 🥹 love you baby ❤️

…

oscarpiastri congratulations, my love 🩷 i’m so proud of you 😘

yourusername 💗💗

comments on this post have been limited.

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Two - My Heart in Your Hands 

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Eventual Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader (I mean, come on, how could I not?) 

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, anxiety, slight anxiety attack, a lot of crying in this chapter, allusions to child abuse/unsafe household, bad family dynamic, rude interviewers!!!, cursing, hurt/comfort, uhhhh frozen lasagna in italy, lmao.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :) 

♡ 4.6k words

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

one year later 

“MERCEDES ANNOUNCES MICK SCHUMACHER AND LEWIS HAMILTON TO DRIVE NEXT SEASON” 

“MERCEDES ANNOUNCES THE FIRST FEMALE RESERVE DRIVER” 

“CAN SCHUMACHER LIVE UP TO THE FAMILY NAME, AFTER FAILING TO DO SO LAST SEASON AT HAAS?” 

“WILL THE FIRST FEMALE RESERVE DRIVER FOR MERCEDES BE ABLE TO RACE THIS YEAR AT ALL?” 

“IS TOTO WOLFF LEADING A WINNING TEAM OR JUST A WOKE ONE?” 

“WOLFF’S TEAM CONSISTS OF A BLACK DRIVER, A SCHUMACHER, AND NOW THE FIRST FEMALE RESERVE DRIVER… WHAT IS HIS PLAY?” 

The room around you was dark, the only source of light being the brightness from your phone. You had been scrolling on your phone endlessly that morning… Or evening. You honestly couldn’t tell since you did not get any sleep. 

It had been a whirlwind of a year. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that in your second year in Formula One would you become a reserve driver for one of the best teams on the grid. Lewis Hamilton was iconic in his own right, and while Mick’s last season was one to be forgotten, he was slowly creeping up the ladder of success. You were still in Formula Two, apart of the famous Prema Racing team. In your current environment, it was a fact that you were the only female driver in F2 right now. You were making your own strides finally, after such a bad year last season. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the announcement of you become the reserve driver for Mercedes was somehow going to bite you in the ass. You had some serious self doubt as you lay curled up on your bed under a pile of blankets. The news was blowing up and so were your messages. They were mostly congratulatory, at least the text messages were. The news outlets were something else, and you didn’t even want to look at the comments on social media. You were simply just reading headline after headline, your heart in your stomach and your anxiety at an all time high. 

But soon enough, your phone lit up again and you looked at with a blank expression. 

INCOMING CALL: Mickey 🐭

You blinked a few times hoping that he would just think you were still sleeping or something. 

MISSED CALL: Mickey 🐭

INCOMING CALL: Mickey 🐭 

You also knew though that he would just keep calling and calling, then texting and texting… So with a big sigh, you pressed ‘accept’ and put the phone on speaker. 

“Hello?” 

“Schätzen! Did I wake you? I could not have, since it is practically one in the afternoon!” Mick giggled to himself, as you could hear him moving around. 

“What do you want, Mick?” 

And of course he didn’t deserve your shortness, or any attitude you were dishing out, but it was as if you couldn’t stop yourself. You would’ve been short with anyone, really. 

“I want you to cheer up, Schätzen. I know you are just in your room, on your phone.” Mick did his famous hum as he waited for you to respond. But what could you say? He knew you better than anyone else. “I know you’re worried about him contacting you with all the news, Schätzen.” 

Mick’s voice was much softer now. His tone was serious, but respectful. You could hear a faint dinging noise in the background as he shifted the phone again. You knew exactly where he was. Begrudgingly, you lazily got out of your bed - still wrapped in your favorite blanket - and made your way to your apartment’s front door. You sighed deeply knowing you probably looked as great as you felt. Opening the door, you peeked your head out and soon enough there was Mick strutting down the hallway. His smile was bright and wide. He carried grocery bags on one arm and in the other, his backpack. You turned on your heel and left the door open, making your way to your couch. Oh sweet respite. 

The front door shut closed. You had your eyes shut and your head tilted back against the wall. The only thing that plagued your mind was that Mick was right. He was going to call you and until then, you were a ball of anxiety and stress. 

“Have you eaten today, Smidge?” 

“Was denken Sie? (What do you think?)” You replied with monotony pouring out with each syllable. 

Mick just hummed again. You could hear him scrummaging through your fridge, putting things away and throwing old things out… Presumably. 

“Tell me your mood, Smidge.” Mick’s question loomed in the air for a few moments. You turned your head to look at the blond haired boy. 

He had a small smile on his face as he leaned against the fridge door. His arms crossed over his chest, his black shirt hugging his biceps noticeably. He had a cap on backwards, and by the looks of it, it looked like the same hat you had; a Mercedes one. 

“Shitty.” 

He nodded his head as a matter of factly, pulling something out of one of the grocery bags. A frozen lasagna, which was sacrilegious in Italy, but he wasn’t going to tell anyone your secret. He began to turn the oven on and prepare the food, singing some song you probably could name if it were any other day, to himself. Once the oven heated up hot enough, he threw the lasagna in there and shut the door. Making his way over to you, he waved his hand slightly towards the space beside you. Without a word you threw that side of your blanket out and welcomed him to sit beside you. 

It was a tradition that started when you two were young, to share a blanket when someone was upset. The first time was when Mick’s dad was out of town for a special event, and had missed a karting event. Mick couldn’t quite understand the demand his father’s job had and how amazingly his mother was taking care of him and his sister when his father would be away. He was just a little kid. After his karting event, you were snuggled up on his family’s couch in your favorite blanket of theirs. You too were just a kid, but you could sort of see how upset he was too. He wasn’t his normally, bubbly self. He was solemn, and closed off. So you did the one thing you thought would cheer him up… Open up the blanket and share space with your best friend. Mick curled up next to you and rested his head on your shoulder. And from then on, it became something sacred between the two of you. 

But now, as young adults thrown into the world you know now as your life, Mick’s much heavier head sat on your shoulder, while you sat in complete silence. 

“Ich habe solche Angst, Mickey… (I’m so scared, Mickey).” You barely said above a whisper, not daring to move a bone in your body. Mick’s warmth was welcome and much needed. 

“I know, but I’m going to be here for you. Always, you know that.” 

“But… He’s out there. And now, he knows exactly what I’ve been up to, when I have been so damn careful of making sure he knows nothing about me!” You began to sob. After holding your sobs in all day, you broke completely at his kind words. 

“Hey, hey… Smidge, look at me…” Mick was sat up and his fingers under your chin. You were forcing yourself to look away, embarrassed by the state you were in now. “Smidgen, please look at me. I can’t take it when I can’t help you.” 

You turned to face him, his fingertips still under your chin as his thumb caressed your cheek. It was hard to believe that the small, tiny little boy who could barely fit into his clothes - now had hands as big as your face. 

“What can I do, schätzen? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” His brows were slightly furrowed as pure concern washed over his face. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Mickey. I’m an adult now and that means he can find me if he wants.” You sniffled back more sobs and shut your eyes tightly. You could feel the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tears that soaked your flushed cheeks. “He’s going to find me… He’s going to find me… And… Fuck, I don’t even know what he’s going to do once he finds me.” 

“He is not going to find you, first of all. And second of all, I will never let that happen. I will do anything to make sure that never happens, okay?” 

You met his blue eyes, your own filled with hot tears. You were able to blink away a few of them to clear your eye-line. His jaw was clenched, pulsing with tension. If there was anyone else that would be angrier than you with the situation, it would be your best friend. And it was apparent as rage began to riddle his body. 

“You are only one man, Mick.” 

Finally, the hardened man broke with a scoff. He let out a laugh, much like the one on the first day you had met him. But this time, he didn’t cover his mouth and he was not apologetic. 

“No, Smidge. He is only one man. I am a man with thousands behind him, including you. He will never be able to hurt you, as long as I am living.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at your best friend sat in front of you. He knew you better than anyone else, and you knew he’d do anything to protect you from the evil that plagued this world. 

“Promise me? Promise me, Mickey.” 

Mick smiled his purely innocent and infectious smile. Bringing you close to him, engulfing you in a tight embrace. You could hear his steady heart beating as you took a deep breath, the smell of his cologne filling your senses with a calmness you hadn’t felt in days since the news was announced. If the world were going to end, you’d be happy with where you were. Mick placed a kiss to the top of your head and hummed. You could feel yourself drifting off, quickly too. You don’t remember the last time you slept to be honest. But as sleep took you, you could hear him mutter something in German. If you were more awake, maybe you could have understood it… But he was mumbling and the only thing on your mind now was getting rest, in the protection of your best friend. 

“Du hältst mein Herz in deinen Händen. Ich werde dich nie verletzen und ich werde dich nie verlassen. Das verspreche ich dir für immer. (You hold my heart in your hands. I will never hurt you, and I will never leave you. I promise you that forever.)” 

Age 9

It was strange for you to miss school. With Mick’s father’s schedule, it wasn’t strange for him to miss school sometimes, but you… There was a strange feeling that filled the air when you were absent. And not only did Mick feel it, but everyone in your class. You had managed to make some good friends at your school, and even with the kids that weren’t your friends, you were never absent. And if you were tardy, you always had a doctor’s note or your mother had called in ahead of time. 

Mick stared hard and long at your empty desk two rows over to his left. He was not paying one singular attention to what the teacher was saying. It was apparent that he was distressed. He was a year older than you, but the one class you shared was a math class. You were advanced, and he was… well Mick. Yet, your seat was empty and his mind began to fill with reasons as to why. Soon though, the bell rings and Mick is pulled out of his trance. Yeah, he was going to get an earful for not taking one note that class, but you slowly had become his best friend and his main concern. With a huff, Mick walked up to the teacher and cleared his throat. 

“Do… Do you know where Smidge is today?” 

The teacher cocked her head in confusion. 

“Smidge?” 

Mick’s cheeks flushed with pure embarrassment as he corrected himself to using your real name. Suddenly, the teacher’s demeanor changed and her posture straightened. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Mick. I would be more worried that you did not take notes today.” She was trying her best to redirect the 10 year old boy. 

“But-“ 

“I’m sure she is alright, Mick. Now, you wouldn’t want to be late to your next class.” The teacher stood to her feet and exchanged a soft expression with the boy. 

Leading him towards the door, she debated heavily in her mind if she should say anything. But then she saw his face. Mick was always bubbly, and friendly. Sure, he was shy sometimes, but she had never seen him be so much out of his shell until he met you. And clearly your absence was affecting him deeply. Moving her arm in front of him to impede him from leaving her classroom. 

“Mick, do you know anything about her family?” 

“Uh, I know her dad is in the military. And she moved her a few years ago? She really likes it here, though.”

The teacher nodded along and pulled her lips into a tight line. 

“Then that’s all I would think about, Mick. She enjoys this school and I know she enjoys being your friend.” 

Some smaller words were exchanged between the two in German, and as Mick made his way to his next class something caught the corner of his eye as he rounded the hallway. 

There you were. 

His eyes lit up, a smile creeping upon his face. Yet, your eyes were glued to the ground and your face expressionless. Your older brother stood by your left side, and your mother by the right. Mick moved over and tried to hide behind the row of lockers. You didn’t see him. You didn’t really see anything. You were so zoned out that you could barely understand what the principal was saying to your mother. Or you just didn’t understand that level of German yet. Finally, the principal and your mother shook hands. She placed a kiss to your brother’s head and he went on his way to the older kid’s part of campus. Turning to you, she whispered something into your ear and repeated the motion. Soon, it was just you in the hallway, putting your backpack on your back and making way to the next class. 

“Smidge! Smidge!” Mick finally and bravely called out to you once he saw you were alone. He caught up to you and noticed your body language was different. “Where were you today? Math class was so boring without you!” 

“I was, uh, busy.” You curtly answered, avoiding eye contact. “I have to go, but I’ll see you later?” You quickly looked up at your now very confused friend. You gave him a small smile and darted away before he could ask you anything. 

Again, there was the boy who you became the closest to, alone in the middle of the hallway. Something was not right, and he wanted to know what it was and how to help. He hated feeling like he couldn’t help you. 

So he turned to the one person he knew could help: His father. 

Current Day 

Two days after Mick and come over and cheered you up, you had your first media day to prepare for. They wanted to interview you, and you knew it was going to be absolute chaos. You had very little media training, and knew that your anxiety would be through the roof. But at least both Lewis and Mick would be by your side. 

“So, you’ll be in the middle of the two boys, and then there will be someone there to field the questions and make sure that you don’t get too overwhelmed.” 

“Alright.” 

You were finishing your hair and makeup while your new PR assistant went through the play by play of the afternoon. You never did well with big crowds, but knowing your two friends would be there was a big relief. 

An hour and a half later, you got into a large SUV - accompanied by Mick. 

“Smidge! You look so beautiful, are you excited for your first media day?” You scooted over in the back seat to the other window as he filed in beside you. 

“No.” You honestly answered, shrugging your shoulders. Mick reached over and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “He’s going to see this you know.” 

“Eh, so is everyone else. He can go fuck off for all I care.” Mick smiled widely and pulled his phone out. Propping it up, he ushered for you to scoot back to him. “I want to remember this day.” 

You leaned comfortably against him and smiled at his phone camera. 

“And don’t worry. I’ll send it to you once I edit out all my blemishes.” Mick gave you a wink and with a click of his tongue, the flash went off and you once again scooted over back to your side. 

Thirty minutes later, the car stopped and you could hear the absolute chaos outside. Your heart rate picked up and your hands began to shake. 

“Schätzen, just keep your eyes on me, okay? You can grab my shirt if you feel overwhelmed. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

The door opened and what seemed like a million flashes of professional and phone cameras begin to go off. Mick seemed a natural in this world, and you obviously seemed like you are not. Instinctively, you grabbed the hem of his Mercedes branded shirt as he guided you through the crowd. Soon enough, you got inside and met up with Lewis and Toto. 

You took a deep breath, and felt some sort of relief. 

“Wow, you look beautiful today.” Lewis smiled his famous smile, and gave you a nod. “You’re showing both of us up!” 

“Yeah, okay Mr. Knighted Lewis Hamilton.” You elbowed him jokingly, earning a small laugh from Toto as well. 

Small talk ensued and before you knew it, the three of you were sat at a table, in front of what seemed like one hundred journalists and cameras. Toto was off doing his own interview for with upcoming season’s other team leaders. 

“Hi, and welcome. We will start with questions for any of these three lovely drivers… And we will start with you… Nicole from SkySports.” 

“Hello, as they said my name is Nicole and I am from SkySports. My question is for Lewis.” 

Lewis waved and nodded in agreement as she proceeded. 

“You’ve been driving with Mercedes for four years now, winning an unbelievable amount with Mercedes. Are you more nervous for the upcoming season with the added pressure of being teammates now with a Schumacher?” 

You did your best to keep your facial expression neutral. 

“Thanks for the question…” Lewis began with a grin. “No, not at all. I don’t think there is more or less pressure now. I think the amount of pressure remains the same, and that we all want to win. Regardless of someone’s name or gender - that’s why we’re here. To race and win.” 

Both Lewis and Mick fielded a few more questions about their new teammates and the upcoming season. You remained silent, trying to take it all in. 

“Hi, my name is Gabrielle. My question is for the new reserve driver.” 

Finally, you straightened your posture and gave a small and polite smile, indicating for her to go on with it. 

“My question is: Do you feel that being the first female reserve driver is being overshadowed by the news of Schumacher and Hamilton becoming a team?” 

Remain unbiased. Calm. And truthful. You tried to repeat your PR assistant’s instructions in your head as you conjured up an answer. Biting your lower lip, you finally exhaled. 

“That’s a great question, thank you. Um, no I don’t feel like anyone or anything is being overshadowed by one thing or the other. Like Lewis said, regardless of name, race or gender… I think we’re all here because we love the sport and want to be successful in it.” 

“And is it true that you have pretty much come on this journey on your own?” 

Mick immediately straightened up as he scanned the room. He was trying to make it obvious that he was on high alert now. It was no surprise that you two were childhood friends and friends even now, but he still felt overly protective, especially it being your first media day. 

“Um, yes. I live in Italy alone, but I have many friends that I care about so - I don’t think I am ever really alone.” You tried to let out a small chuckle, as your nervous played with your hands in your lap. 

“We are glad to hear have friends and have made friends, but what I was referring to was your family. Is it true that you do not have much contact with your brother and no contact whatsoever with your father?” 

“I don’t think-“ You began to blink quickly and your words began to sputter. “That’s just… I… I’m not… Uh…” Your eyebrows were pulled in a tight line as your eyes darted around the entire room. You took a deep breath and paused, but before you could say anything else a familiar voice interrupted your racing thoughts. 

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate to talk about at this time. We are here to speak about motorsports, not our personal lives.” Lewis interjected. “Whether or not she wants to answer is up to her, but let’s try to stick to Formula One, huh?” With added lightness, Lewis smiled at the flashing cameras. 

“We just are trying to get to know her better! We know a lot about your upbringing and obviously, Mick’s, but-“

“You know those things because we have both have been open about those things, or at least as open as we choose to be. This is her first day in front of all these cameras, and Lewis is absolutely correct - this is completely inappropriate. And I will have no problem leaving this interview if it continues.” Mick’s face was serious. His jaw was clenched again. Scratching his stubble that peppered his jawline, he made eye contact with the interviewer that asked you that question. “Do we all understand?” 

Hours had passed by and you were sitting alone in the hotel room. You were sitting by the window, in a comfortable chair, your makeup off and softest sweatpants on. The media day didn’t go quite as planned to begin with, but once Mick made sure there were no more inappropriate questions, it actually went quite well. You felt brave and pretty good towards the end. There was solace where you sat and relief as you looked out at the skyline. 

A knock on the door pulled you out of your day dream and as you happily toddled over to the door, the feeling of joy and accomplishment quickly left every fiber of your body. 

You felt the ground fall out underneath you, and your heart stop beating. You looked up with tears beginning to brim in your eyes, and with every breath you tried to take, your body became more and more numb. 

“So it is true. All this time, you've been in Europe.” 

Your father stood at ease in front of you, in the hallway of your hotel. He was much older than you thought, the salt and pepper stubble making it obvious he’s aged. He still wore his uniform, and clearly still was in undated with their values as he stood there - detached. He knew you weren’t going to invite him in, and truly he didn’t come here for that. And you know why he came here. 

“You saw the media coverage, I take it then.” 

He nodded, remaining stoic. Clearing his throat, he began to walk back down the hallway. But before you could run into your room and call Mick, he turned his head back and smiled at you, making everything in your body want to jump off the nearest bridge. 

“It’s a shame it had to be like this. But you’ve grown up very nicely. I’m glad to have seen you.” 

And as soon as he turned the corner to get on the elevators, you ran inside and grabbed your phone. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably, your sobs and cries filling the empty air of your hotel room. 

“Smidge? Smidge? Are you okay? I cannot understand you! Smidgen, please calm down!” Mick was panicked. He was in his own room, playing video games trying to relax and wind down for the evening. “Smidge, take a breath.” 

You did your best to breathe for a moment, and with one big breath you told him that he had found you. Mick didn’t waste any time. He even ran up three flights of stairs to get to you. Sure, the elevators could have been faster, but he didn’t want to risk that. He was breathing heavily, but he grabbed the spare room key you had given him out of his wallet and opened your hotel room. 

He spotted you in the corner of the tiny living room of your hotel room. You were pressed up against the wall, in the fetal position. Your shoulders were bobbing up and down as you internally screamed and audibly cried. You didn’t even hear Mick open the door. 

Mick made even faster time crossing the room, scooping you into his arms as he sat beside you on the floor. He knew you were in no shape to talk, and he knew what you needed. He began to rub your back and hum softly. 

“Shhhhh… It’s okay, schätzen… I’m here… I’m here… I’m so sorry, I wasn’t before, but I’m here…” 

You took a few more big breaths and finally got your heart rate down. You looked up at him, your eyes bloodshot, and your face wet with your crying. Mick did his best to catch up to wiping your tears as they fell. 

“Schätzen, I’m never going to let him breathe the same air as you ever again. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there… Fuck, I should’ve been there.” 

“Mickey… It’s alright. I didn’t even know…” 

Mick pressed a kiss against your forehead, knowing you didn’t and couldn’t finish your sentence. And what seemed like an eternity later, you finally had stopped crying. The two of you had moved to the couch and were sharing a blanket you found in the linen closet. You had your head rest against his shoulder, again dozing off. His one arm was tightly wrapped around you, his other sending off emails on his phone. He was going to do whatever it took to protect you. Soon, he put his phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He could hear your steady breathing. And as he gently moved you to lay your head on his lap instead, he got more comfortable on the couch and draped a lazy arm over your side. His fingers traced caressing circles on your outer thigh as he himself began to drift off. 

You knew that depending on him this much was not healthy, and that you should not be falling asleep on his lap. But you also knew he wasn’t going to let you go or out of his sight in the near future. You didn’t know whether to love this moment or hate this moment. 

But you knew one thing was for certain. 

You never wanted to forget it. 

[thepersonnamedsam]

introduction

pairing: genz!driver x '20!grid

summary: the first time the genz!driver meets the grid

word count: 766

warnings: mentions of fainting, a swear word, some bad google translated french

note: the timeline sucks, as always, so please ignore it, thank you so much

masterlist / taglist

2020, a year full with up and downs. For y/n, 2020 was something special and a year full of surprises. Having just placed 3rd overall in the F2 championship, she received an offer she just couldn’t say no to; AlphaTauri or Toro Rosso, the RedBull owned F1 Team wanted to sign her. Her, a teenager and a female! She couldn’t believe it. Of course she signed the contract and started as a Rookie in F1.

The media went wild as AlphaTauri released that y/n would be the second driver of their team. Everyone tried to get an interview with her, but y/n‘s PR team refused to let anyone interview that girl.

She first met Pierre, well meeting is maybe a bit exaggerated. He shot her a DM, where he wrote her, that he’s very excited to work with y/n next season. When they officially met, she was so nervous, that she couldn’t say a word to him. He found it cute.

On the 19th of February y/n joined the team for testing in Barcelona. That’s where she met 12 of the 19 drivers she’d be competing with. Legends like, Romain Grosjean, Lewis Hamilton, Kimi Räikkönen and Sebastian Vettel were all there. She was so nervous to meet all of them. Thank god she had Pierre by her side, whom she already knew, who gave her some kind of comfort. Even though he wasn’t really great at it, because he left her alone the second they walked on the grid.

Romain Grosjean was the first to notice her, looking all lost and helpless. „Bonjour, petite fille (Good morning, little girl), can I help you?“, his voice soft and kind. She looked up at him, (hypothetically and literally of course), and nodded her head. She didn’t know where to be. Where did AlphaTauri need her? „I don’t know where to go, like, where is the motorhome of AlphaTauri?“

„Oh mon dieu! (Oh my god!) You are y/n! I am so pleased to meet you! Welcome to F1, my dear“, his french accent prominent and hard to miss. He shook her hand, almost hugging her, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. „I will show you where to go, no?“

She was glad someone helped her. Pierre just left her alone, bastard. But Romain took her to her garage, thankfully it wasn’t that far and she didn’t have too much awkward time with the driver.

Pierre was standing outside his side of the garage, an apologetic look on his face. He felt guilty for leaving her at the entry. Franz Tost already spoke some harsh words with the young french man. „Look y/n, I‘m sorry for just leaving you. And merci Romain, de l’avoir amenée ici (and thank you Romain for bringing her here)“, Pierre looked at Grosjean for the last sentence. y/n just shook her head and blew some air out of her mouth, making some kind of fart sound. „Don’t worry man, found it here, didn’t I?“

Franz Tost did make them go inside and told Grosjean he should go back to his own garage. She met her engineer, her mechanics her PR team and every important person. She finally met her car for the first time, naming her ‚Buggy‘. And when she first raced in the car, she felt alive. She never felt this alive before. From F4 to F2, the car always got better and faster, but F1 was just a massive upgrade. She never wanted to drive anything less.

Lap after lap y/n beat her best time, over and over again. Every lap she got faster. And she was so happy to hear that. Everyone knew that she was an excellent driver, but still no one expected this good of a result.

After the testing y/n was so happy. Pierre invited her to dinner, wanting to make up for leaving her alone that morning. He also invited half of the grid. She met Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton, Lance Stroll, Daniel Ricciardo and Charles Leclerc that evening. And it was chaos. She was so nervous, more anxious to say, and every time a driver told her how much they admired her for her talent she almost fainted. Those were her idols and they were admiring her? She couldn’t believe it. She did faint at one point, as Lewis Hamilton, the 6 time world champion made a toast to the young female driver and the history she made and will make in F1.

She ended up with a bump ok her head and a bruise on her hip, but it was worth it. That’s how she met the grid, well half of it anyway.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah

[irraydiate]

Mr. Reachy Pattern

Please ignore how poor my execution is, I promise the pattern is better than it looks here

Notes:

First of all, did you know that giraffes’ horn thingies are called ossicones? The more you know..

Any unmarked sides on a piece of the pattern either attach to its mirrored piece or wrap around to attach to itself. Hopefully it’s self explanatory which of these is the case. The guide for spots is not really exact and they don’t always line up or look good (especially if you sew like me and approximate everything). If you have access to an actual spotted fabric, I’d use that, provided you also have a solid version of the colour for the nose. For the best results you should use fabrics that don’t fray and don’t stretch too much. The mane/hair bits aren’t included in the pattern. While I used two layers of fringe, I’d recommend using yarn cuz it’ll sit more nicely and look more like the actual hair. If you sew the seams exactly according to the pattern (maybe minus the ossicones and tail), it would hypothetically look really good I swear!!

Made by altering a pattern created with plushify

(I highly recommend using this if you have any experience 3D modelling it was really cool actually)

Mr. Reachy is not really drawn consistently throughout the show, so I kind of tried to average out all of its appearances. I put the mouth on the right side of the face, but it doesn’t really have a consistent position. Mine’s mouth also doesn’t extend onto the front of the face for simplicity’s sake.

(Observe the inconsistencies and validate my interpretation!!!)

Now you don’t need those old shrinky dinks

If you do use this pattern, please link here if anyone asks about it, and show me the result if you like

If you have any questions feel free to ask

[axnrxn]

hi there,

i've read your works and they are amazing! can i request the reader being bilingual and how the reactions of the cod members would be when they found out about it? (sorry for my bad english)

thank you in advance and have a good day/evening/night <3

(141, König, Alejandro Vargas, & Rudolfo Parra x GN!bilingual!reader)

TW: bad translations, fluff, some explicit sexual imagery, swearing.

Since you didn’t specify the language, I made executive decisions. A lot of google translate because I suck. Your English is great and probably better than my terrible translations! Much love<3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Entendido, Alejandro." (Understood, Alejandro.) acknowledging Alejandro's order.

“Ah! ¿Hablas español? Eso es bueno, sera muy útil aquí.” (Ah! You speak spanish? That's good, it will be very useful here.) Alejandro replied, chuckling and smiling back at you.

Simon turns slightly to look at you while Rudy is driving, trying not to show his surprise.

Once you two exited the vehicle and were out of earshot of the others, he confronted you about the exchange.

“When’d you learn that?”

“Learn what?”

“C’mon. You know what I’m referring to.”

“I’ve always known it. Just never had a reason to speak it before.”

“You n’ him seem to hit it off…”

“You jealous, lieutenant?”

He forced a laugh through his nose.

“Mmm, yeah right. Just don’t get too friendly with him, yeah? You’ve got a job to do, sergeant.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, before quickly realizing his proximity and pulling away.

“Don’t worry, lieutenant. You'll always be my favorite." You joked, earning an eye roll from him.

"Get a move on, sergeant." He replied gruffly, though you could tell from his tensed shoulders that you flustered him with your sarcastic proclamation.

You'd have to tease him later in his quarters about it. You loved making him jealous and flustered, the way his skin would flush with embarrassment. In private, he was much easier to tease. Especially when you would straddle his lap, his jaw in your hand as you kissed his neck. The quiet, needy moans he'd make just for you as you grinded against him.

You shook your head and regained your focus, looking forward to your time alone with your lieutenant.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

“Dos francotiradores en la azotea oeste, Alejandro. Ten cuidado," (Two snipers on the west rooftop, Alejandro. Be careful.) you warned, peering around a wall.

Soap turned to look at you as you awaited orders.

"Since when could you speak spanish, love?" He inquired.

"My whole life?"

"Oi! And you never thought to tell me? An' you waited til now?" You could hear Alejandro chuckle as he listened over the comms.

"Surprise" You answered sarcastically, shrugging.

"Perhaps there's more things your partner didn't tell you, Sergeant MacTavish?" Alejandro teased.

"Aye, I'm gonna learn every last bit of you when this is through." Soap said, gazing at you suggestively.

He let his free hand graze your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek, all while looking deep into your eyes. You wanted to be off duty with him, making him moan into your mouth as his fingers curled in your hair. He was always so vocal and expressive, you loved it. As he leaned over to kiss you, shots rang out.

"Ah, shite. Goddammit." Soap whispered.

"Raincheck, Soap." You said, quickly pecking his cheek before leaving your shared cover in favor of hiding behind a truck.

He smiled and gave you a two-finger salute, turning in sync with you to clear the road.

Captain John Price

"'Ze komen om middernacht aan.'" You repeated quietly to yourself, translating what you overheard the smugglers say.

"Their contact is arriving at midnight, 0-6." You said to Price through comms.

"Copy, 2-6," Price responded quickly.

"I'll meet you on the boat as soon as Gaz takes out the patrol." You announced, waiting for Gaz.

"On it, 2-6," Gaz responded.

You finally made your way to the boat, meeting Price at the locked gate. Once the boat was cleared of narcos, he turned to you.

“Care to share with me how you knew when they were coming?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

"Well, there were a few people speaking Dutch around the docks." You replied, not realizing that you had never told him about learning Dutch before.

"And you didn't care to mention you knew Dutch when we found out we were going to Amsterdam?" He pressed, clearly confused more than frustrated with you.

"Honestly, I'm so exhausted that I forgot I even could. I didn't think about it." You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

His eyes filled with a mixture of pity and love as he finally looked over you, noting your slumped posture.

"I'll tell you what, you 'n me can head to a nice spot and get some rest before we head out in the morning. Get you a nice bed to sleep in for the night." He decided, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, careful not to press you too hard into his bulky vest.

"But if we have a nice bed, there's other things I'd rather be doing," you teased, grabbing his ass and pulling him further into you.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you fully and resting his head on top of yours.

"We'll have time for that later, love. Don't you worry," he assured you. "You rest up first, then we'll see about that." He stated, finally pulling away to make his way off the boat as you trailed behind him towards your reward.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"What're they doing here?" Gaz wondered aloud.

"They're a narco smuggling hub" you replied simply, popping out of the water next to him.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"They're talking about an outgoing shipment to Las Almas." You remarked, watching the smugglers walk their patrol routes along the docks slowly. "Who else from Las Almas would be picking something up here?" You pointed out, proving your point.

"Since when do you understand Dutch?"

"Since I went to college for a year abroad."

A whole new side of you was revealed to Gaz in that moment. You never really mentioned anything about your past. What led you here, why you joined the military, what your life was like before. You joined the military unusually late, but no one had ever asked you why. He'd have to finally inquire about it after the mission.

"What else have you been hiding?" He teased, turning you by the shoulder to face him.

"Mmm, I'm actually a Russian spy that knows 5 languages and was assigned to infiltrate 141." You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"Well they picked the best one for the job, with you being that sexy and all. We never stood a chance." He chuckled, pecking your cheek.

Alejandro Vargas

“Me encantaría tener una cita contigo, Alejandro.”(I’d love to go on a date with you, Alejandro.) You finally said, taking advantage of 141’s and Rudy’s absence. You didn’t feel like pretending you didn’t understand him anymore, as funny as some of the things you got to listen in on were.

“Me entendiste todo este tiempo?” (You understood me all this time?) His jaw practically hit the floor.

“Sí, todo este tiempo,” (Yes, all this time.) you laughed. You had heard everything Alejandro said to Rudy about you under the guise that you weren’t listening. You finally decided to reveal yourself when Alejandro mentioned to Rudy how he wanted to take you on a date after the mission was over.

He stood there, frozen, as he tried to recall everything he had ever said about you.

“You were always complimenting me and praising me when you thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to just end that, you know?” You smiled, reassuring him that he hadn’t offended you.

“So you heard my plans and finally decided to tell me, hm?” He asked, regaining his composure.

“Something like that. But I wouldn’t mind pretending I didn’t understand if it means that I'll keep hearing you tell Rudy how amazing I am.”

"Ah, this will be fun. Let's pretend, yes? You can listen to all the things I want to do to you." he teased, smirking at you.

"That'll certainly keep things interesting, Ale." You blushed.

You were thinking about how quickly things had escalated between you two. How long before he actually did the things he said? His lips on your neck, whispering spanish in your ear, his hands on your ass. You wanted to grab him by his vest on the spot and curl your fingers in his hair. You could only imagine it for so long before you had to cast your thoughts away, trying to avoid getting so worked up on the job.

Rudolfo “Rudy” Parra

"This is Los Vaqueros to 141, Hassan is on the move." You stated over comms as you peered through your scope.

Rudy looked at you, confused. You realized that you didn't tell him you understood english before. When it came to talking to native english speakers, you always got too nervous and chickened out because you worried about your accent and grammar.

"Porque no me dijiste, mi amor? (Why didn't you tell me, my love?) He asked, noting how you had refused to say anything in english up until now.

"No lo use antes de ahora." (I didn't use it before now) "Tambien, mi ingles no es perfecto." (Also, my english isn't perfect.) You replied, intentionally neglecting to mention how nervous you were about being judged.

"Es bueno, estoy orgulloso de ti." (It's good, I am proud of you.) He assured you, smiling at you as you turned away from your rifle's scope.

"Gracias, Rudy. Pero, seguiremos hablando espanol cuando estemos solo, si?" (Thank you, Rudy. But we will still speak spanish when it is us alone, yes?) You inquired, hoping he wouldn't push it.

"A huevo, mi amor." (Of course, my love.) He agreed, you were pretty sure he figured out your reasoning. You leaned back into Rudy, letting his arms engulf you as you sighed. He put you at ease so quickly, almost making you forget that you were chasing down a terrorist assisted by narcos through Las Almas. But you couldn't bask in his calming presence forever, so you settle back into your previous position at your rifle.

He place his hand on your back gently, rubbing between your shoulders to keep you relaxed. You loved moments like this. No matter the situation, Rudy always did small gestures to remind you that he was right there beside you.

König

"Konig, gehst du mit mir auf ein Date?" (Konig, will you go on a date with me?" You asked, hopping atop a crate while facing him.

"What?" He asked, unable to process that you had just spoken German.

"Did I not say it correctly?" You asked, worried that your German was not up to par with your native English.

"No, no. Your German is great..." He replied slowly, gathering his thoughts.

"Is that a no?" You teased, knowing exactly what Konig was realizing.

"Shiebe, sorry, yes of course I would like that... Wait." He cut himself off, finally putting the pieces together.

"Wie lange hast du mich verstanden?" (How long have you understood me?) he inquired, panic starting to fill his voice.

"Ungefahr ein Jahr?"(About a year?) You admitted, guessing the time frame that you've known him.

"And you did not say anything?!" He panicked, thinking about everything he's every muttered about you and your body. He'd only known you for a year, meaning you've understood everything he's ever uttered.

"Well, I was gonna tell you right away, but then I heard you mutter about how pretty I was when I looked up at you... and I don't know, I guess I wanted to hear you say that more." You divulged, seeing Konig's eyes widen.

"I have said many things I shouldn't have, mein Gott..." He whispered to himself, mentally replaying everything he has ever said about you in your presence.

"If it makes you feel any better, I really like you, too, Konig." You professed, pulling his vest towards you.

A/N: I'm finally finishing my drafts, sorry for the delay! Much love. Ghost x reader x konig coming as soon as I clear my drafts!

[adoristsposts]

hi i love your writing! could you possibly do justin herbert and reader breaking up but then they rekindle and it’s a happy ending?

author's note; anons treating me so well u guys have better ideas than i do icl summary; alcohol and not being over your ex doesn't exactly mix well- unless, of course, your ex seems just as hung up on you. word count; 1K warnings; drinking, swearing characters; Reader x Justin Herbert

You let a loud sigh escape your lips the second your apartment door shut behind you. You placed a palm on the door, using it for support as you slipped off your heels and let your bare feet sink into the carpeted floor. "Jesus," you muttered to yourself. Without missing a beat, you headed to your fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. You set your purse down on the kitchen island and, wine bottle in hand, padded over to the couch. You turned it on and, of course, your ex-boyfriend's face filled the screen. "It was just a flesh wound." He told the press before you could switch the channels. Your hand paused, hovering over the Netflix icon you had been meaning to press. A flesh wound? You couldn't stop yourself from pulling your phone out and googling it. Three years later you were unable to resist the need to know he was okay. His dismissal of it on television seemed reasonable, you decided as you scrolled through a few articles. But then a few articles became a highlight reel. And then media posts. And then his Instagram. He still followed you from back when the two of you had dated. You remembered his management encouraging him to make the account, and how, despite the fact he didn't run it, he had made sure you were one of the few hundred he followed back.

The split had been amicable. Your post-college heart had been absolutely broken, but Justin was moving to LA and you couldn't handle the distance. The two of you tried keeping in contact for a few months, but the second he was spotted with another woman you shut down. By the time you had sorted out your feelings for him, it felt too embarrassing to reach out. Now, ironically, you were in LA. And you wished you had held on to contact. Because god damn was dating in LA boring. The one you had just returned from had entailed a Chiefs fan mansplaining football to you and complaining about Taylor Swift- all because you had peeked past his shoulder to get a look at the Niners' score. You forced yourself to close your phone. You stood up and walked over to the closest mirror, checking yourself out. You had done your hair and makeup and picked a cute outfit- even worn heels!- just for the guy to be a tool. You smoothed out your shirt. Fuck it, you told yourself. You texted your best friend. Wanna go out? Absolutely, bitch. She replied.

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache. How you had gotten home, or what exactly had happened the night before, you had no idea. You groaned loudly and leaned over to grab your phone off the nightstand. The notifications that greeted you were so mortifying you were sure you were going to puke. Seven missed calls from Justin, three voicemails, and five text messages. There was no chance in hell you were looking at any of those. You took an everything shower, blew out your hair, painted your nails, and made yourself food. Who knew that your ex-boyfriend could be so helpful when it came to working through a hangover? Finally, hours later, you had to check. The time without your phone- although you hated to admit it- was driving you crazy. You could only sit through so much without wanting to check it. And you were sure your best friend had to be worried you had choked on your own vomit at this point.

You responded to her texts first, with a simple 'I think I drunk called Justin.' You ignored her frantic texts and clicked on his first voicemail. "Hey." His voice sent shivers down your spine. There was something so homely about the way he sounded. Like hearing an old favorite song. "I think you drunk called me. My hand's fine, thanks for asking. Just a sprain, it'll be fine by the end of our by week. " Ever polite. When Justin first stepped into the spotlight, so many people questioned his personality and whether he would be fit to lead a team as their quarterback. He had never cared. He always dismissed it with a quiet wave. He was how he was, and you had loved him for it. The voicemail cut out there, and you played the next one. "Sorry," He began, because what else would he start out with? "I can't stop listening to what you sent me. I know you're drunk, but you said you haven't gotten over it- just in case you don't remember in the morning- and I haven't either. Just thought you should know." A click. You cringed. You truthfully didn't remember a moment of it. You understood now how the prohibition had happened. The last one. "Ok, I swear this is it." He laughed. The sound was like stepping under a warm ray of sun on a cold day. "I miss you. Text me when you wake up- I'm sorry for blowing up your phone. You said you were in LA? We should reconnect."

You put your phone face down and ran a hand over your face. Reconnect. With your ex-boyfriend. That you still weren't over. You texted your best friend. She responded with a bunch of messages that all had the same point; 'absolutely, you dumbass, you are still so in love with him and i'm sick of hearing about it.'

You swiped out of her messages and opened Justin's, which were full of concerned texts and him asking for you to text him when you got home to ensure you were safe. You bit your lip to try and control your smile. I'm free anytime this week. Coffee?

[david-goldrock]

Features I would like to get from my map sites

SHOW ME THE BUS LINES ON THE MAP PLEASE

Let me adjust my walking speed. I walk slowly. I am not fast. If the bus is in 7 minutes, and you say the walk is a 5-minute walk I am not making that bus.

Let me permanently mark places and roads on my map. Like, I want to see where is Ben's house every time I open the city map. I don't want to remember

Let me also permanently mark roads. and other shit. Let me put notes on places like "scary dog lives here" and "closes at 19:00"

MARK THE PATHS WITHOUT SHADES AT ANY SPECIFIC TIME AND LET ME AVOID THEM WHEN GOING ROUND THE CITY I SWEAR THIS WOULD MAKE MY LIFE BETTER

Show an "Is this road accessible by bike/wheelchair" marker.

Show parking space estimation. Also for bikes.

Let me have a separate road system with the bike and walking shortcuts. Also, sweetie, I know it's illegal, but I am driving on the sidewalk, I don't need to go on the direction of the road.

Just have a better interface please? Like, yours genuinely sucks (looking at you Google Maps! what is this abomination?)

Also let me theme the map? I want it to look like parchment please? It would make walking feel cooler.

Google Maps specifically, you already track all my friends' location. Let us share it around? like make groups that can view each other? no need for a new app.

add your own, I am sure there are more

[caffvarro]

Fanfic

Leon Kennedy x Luis Serra RE4.Remake The moment with the chains. Departure from the canon (They are introduced at the end and Leon has some side effects from las plagas.) I apologize in advance for the mistakes, this is my second fanfiction and I don't know this game well, my friend suggested watching the walkthrough and I liked Leon and Luis, especially the moment where they were in chains. By the way, this is my first fanfiction in such an intimate direction. The entire text was translated through Google translator

A sharp pain shot through Leon's head, driving away the hallucinations and forcing him to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a room he had never seen before. He gradually came to his senses, noting numb hands, headache, and a slight fever. Could it be the side effects of the thing that was injected into him? Although the numbness of the hands was clearly not related to this, because the man immediately noticed that he was chained to the top with his hands. Cursing involuntarily and instinctively twitching his arms, he immediately heard someone grunting behind him. “Hey! Enough. The voice of an unknown man sounded. Turning and walking away, Leon recognized him as the man he had found tied up in a sack. Looking around incredulously, he noticed that the two of them were bound by these chains and if one pulled at his end, he would pull the other towards the pulling one. The stranger, deciding to continue the conversation, turned to Leon: "Hey, Yankee, what's your name?" Leon wanted to introduce himself, but his headache got worse. He writhed in pain, grinding his teeth, trying to say something, but an unintelligible grunt came out. The man grinned: "Well, Sancho, let's stay strangers for now." Leon's condition improved slightly, the pain did not go away, but it became bearable. Frowning, he turned his gaze back to the chatterbox. "It looks like you and I have chosen a so-so place for a vacation." the man sighed sullenly. Leon had no time to talk to the Spaniard. He glanced around the room for a chance to get out. Pulling on the chains again, this time intentionally, but immediately received an unflattering remark in his direction from a fellow misfortune. "Aghh! Enough! It's already good to pull. Leon ignored his words, noticing that the structure on the ceiling had moved slightly. He wanted to pull on himself again, but his head spun and he was carried forward. "Ghh! Heck! Sancho, what the-" the stranger barked in displeasure, but was immediately interrupted, because he was skidded in the other direction by chains. He tried to pull on himself. Leon skidded in a friend's direction and in his delirium he tried again. A moment later, they literally grappled with each other. Their hands were between the tightly pressed bodies of the men. The stranger groaned and tried to get out, but to no avail. Chains wrapped around them, giving them no chance to escape. The man wanted to swear and accuse the culprit, but he felt hot heavy breathing on his neck and a heaviness on his left shoulder. Leon's head was buried in the stranger's shoulder. His heat increased, confusing his thoughts. In an agonizing delirium, Leon involuntarily twitched, creating friction. Such actions clearly attracted the stranger's attention, causing him to bite his lip. He has repeatedly bragged about his seduction skills in front of ladies, but how ironic that it was a man in a sick delirium who got caught in his chain. Although this silent Yankee was very handsome in person. Succumbing to temptation, the man playfully pressed his lips to Leon's neck. He immediately shuddered and raised his head, glaring at him, saying: "What are you doing?!" The man restrained himself from laughing, because Leon reminded him of an angry cat shushing the offender. He replied: "Is it better, Sancho?" Leon wanted to be sarcastic, but noticed that this action really helped. His thoughts are more collected than they were a minute ago. He nodded reluctantly and looked away. Noticing the reaction, the Spaniard grinned: "It looks like it's not the first time you've been in such trouble. We will definitely find a common language…" His fingers immediately wrapped around the fingers of the embarrassed Yankee. He wanted to object, but was immediately stopped.

I hope you enjoyed it:3 Everything didn't fit together, so the second part is on my blog.

[gatheredfates]

Oh my goodness, I can't believe we're here! This is the FIRST Compendium update for Dawntrail! ☀️ In the end I didn't need the extra weekend off; I just put this together in-between trusts (don't judge me).

I hope everyone is having a fantastic time with the new expansion. I am especially excited to see how this document expands as I find new things in its advent, so please let me know if you make/find anything interesting!

While I don't think the Compendium will have anything pertaining to spoilers, I will try to note where resources/communities contain them going forward. Resources may update without me knowing, however; please do your best to engage with content keeping the possibility of spoilers in mind. Thanks!

With that said, however, as of today (07/06), the following resources have been added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives.

LARGE SCALE

XIV Modding — In the online game known as FINAL FANTASY XIV, modifications usually fall under the “tools”, “mods” and “plugins” categories. The purpose of this wiki is to provide a semi-comprehensive breakdown of the existing tools & ways to mod the game cosmetically, ie visuals, audio & other on-screen assets.

*Please note: Modding is a direct violation of the games ToS and discussion of it in game will earn you a ban. Its inclusion in the Compendium is for collection purposes; I am not responsible for what you do with the tools should you download them.

FRIEND / CASUAL SERVER

A Walk Across Etheirys — We are a group of friends, and story-lovers, who have chosen to make the slow journey through every zone of FFXIV we can! We take these walks by expansion, remembering them for what they were and what they meant to us, and aim to add new ones as they arise.

LORE

A Comprehensive List of Halonic Swears — For your Ishgardian fanfiction and lore reference. Created by @rosestarart.

SEAFLOOR

We're a Tumblr Community now! For people unfamiliar with the concept of Communities, I encourage you to check out the tumblr post by staff made about them here. However, copy/pasting what I have written in the Compendium, the Community functions as so:

SEAFLOOR (A FFXIV Community) is a Tumblr community whose duel-purpose focuses on my projects — the Compendium, question drives and screenshot events — whilst also reblogging member created works, resources (including events, commissions and looking for content/roleplay/free company posts), affirmations and other xiv-related content. If you are interested in supporting my projects without the social aspect of a Discord, I highly encourage you to join the Community. Everything hosted on the Discord will be cross-posted there; you will not miss out on anything. As Communities are still in beta, members need to be manually invited. If you would like to join, please like the tumblr post here. Once Communities are out of beta, I will remove this section to better reflect its true public status.

I'm hoping the Community will function as a member-curated dash, resource hub and visual diary for my projects and member created works. There are no hard feelings if you want to leave the Discord and only join the Community. Please do what makes you comfortable!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here or send me an ask with the relevant information!

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. Again, all the below information is accessible on the document! 🌻

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads.

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include in-character tabloid blogs used to generate RP.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

FAQ.

I want to put my community on the compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community on the compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it.

What resources/communities can I add if I'm not the owner of them?

Mutual consent is extremely important to me, so anything that isn't a large-scale community OR a publicly accessible resource must be endorsed by the owner/admin/moderators in order to be added to the compendium. I operate under the assumption that a resource posted to a public space (tumblr, googledocs, youtube, etc) is open to all. A large-scale community is one with a significant member count or openly advertises itself as being accessible to everyone for whatever purpose it serves. If in doubt, please get in touch with me. I'm happy to contact your community owners for you!

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, absolutely contact me about that.

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

[liightsout]

the blue - part one

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

✯ summary: introducting mattie and adam!! both have some news to share, one being better than the other. no danny ric content in this one, but it's coming, i promise! ✯

✯ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc

✯ content warnings: none rlly, light swearing ✯

✯ now playing: you're on your own kid - taylor swift ✯

✯ series masterlist ✯

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May 2020 

“Mattie, are you even listening to me?” 

Looking up from her phone at her friend she frowned. She hadn’t been listening. Not even a little. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in what her friend had been saying, it was just that she had a lot on her mind.

She sighed softly “I wasn’t Adam, I’m sorry, what were you saying? Something about a new driver on the team?” 

Matilda and Adam had been friends since childhood, the pair had met on the first day of junior school. She had just moved to the small town over the summer and was starting school a complete stranger amongst all her peers.

Her mum had reassured her she’d make friends quickly, but she wasn’t so sure. Looking around the playground she could see that almost everyone already knew one another. She spent the first few hours of school that day on her own, carefully shying away from drawing too much attention to herself. 

Then came lunch break. She remembers it like it was yesterday, Adam came bounding over to her, scruffy uniform and beaming smile with a few teeth missing. He asked her if she wanted to play race cars with him. She explained nervously that she didn’t know anything about racing and he should probably ask someone else. Adam had scoffed at the idea and said that he didn’t want to play with the other kids.

Adam spent the rest of the hour lunch break explaining everything he knew about racing and telling her about his favourite driver ‘Michael Shooomacker’ and the red car he drove. 

Their friendship had lasted throughout their schooling days, all their awkward teenage phases and early adult years. It was a no brainer for the both of them to decide to move in with each other when they both found themselves in need of a home.

Rent in and around London was expensive, and there was no one on Earth either of them would rather live with. Which had proven to be a blessing when 2020 had rolled around and Covid had hit. The pair of them agreed that they would have lost their minds had they spent so many days locked inside with anyone else but each other. 

Adam had gone to University when they turned 18 and earned a degree in Mechanical Engineering, hoping to further his dream of being an engineer for one of the top Formula 1 teams when he was older. It wasn’t long before he had achieved said dream and found himself a spot on the engineering team at Mclaren.

“At least you’re honest! I said I got a call this morning from my boss,he confirmed the driver that’s going to be replacing Carlos next year. It’s Daniel Ricciardo” explained Adam, with a beaming smile.

Mattie paused trying to put a name to a face. “Which one is he?” Adam laughed “as if you don’t remember! He’s the Aussie you think is fit, the one who used to drive for Red Bull.” 

“I thought that was Mark Webber?” the girl questioned, pulling out her phone getting ready to Google the new driver her friend would be working with for the next season. Adam’s laugh got even louder “close, but not quite” he said. 

Mattie rolled her eyes and continued her Google image search. Yep, she remembered who Daniel Ricciardo was now. Adam was right; she did think he was fit. More than that, she thought he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

She looked up from her phone to the knowing eyes of her best friend “yeah I remember who he is, but anyway, irrelevant, is this a good thing for you? Are you happy?”.

Adam nodded enthusiastically “oh definitely, he’s one of my favourite drivers, getting to work with him is huge. I reckon him and Lando will be a great pairing as well, roll on 2021 as far as I’m concerned”. 

Adam had always been obsessed with Formula 1. Even from the age of 10 he had been so sure that it was the career path for him. He had spent countless hours as a teenager working in his dad’s garage and learning everything he could about cars, engines and the mechanics behind them.

This was something Mattie had always been jealous of. Not that she had also wanted to be a mechanic, definitely not that. She had been jealous of his ability to decide exactly what it was that he had wanted to do with his life, seemingly from the minute he had learnt what Formula 1 was. 

Mattie did not have the same luxury. Growing up she had toyed with many ideas about what life would have in store for her, but none that ever had really seemed to fit.

When she was 13 she had wanted to be a famous pop singer; the dream was soon crushed when a music teacher told her she could barely hold a note.

Then came fashion. She had spent a whole summer reading through every copy of Vogue she could get her hands on. Drawing up rough designs of different clothes and garments she would try and craft herself. This dream ended with a high school textiles teacher telling her that she was terrible at stitching and would never pass the class.

The list was endless, dream after dream quietly crushed by being told she would never be quite good enough. 

For a while she thought that maybe she had set her expectations too high. She wanted too much, dreamt too big. She wanted extraordinary, but needed to settle for ordinary. 

Until she had realised at the age of 17 that it had been staring her in the face her whole life. From the moment Mattie had learnt to read she had her nose in a book. She had become infatuated with literature and everything about it.

She loved that no matter what was going on around her, she could always find solace in a good book for a few hours. She loved reading about different characters who could live every life she had ever dreamt for herself. It was at the age of 17 that she decided she would study English Literature at University. 

She quickly found a job after leaving University, working for a small independent publisher. She loved her job and although she was disappointed she would never be a famous pop star, at the age of 24 she knew that it was probably for the best. 

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy and hopefully this will be a good thing for Mclaren as well. It’d be nice to see you guys moving up in the constructors championships!” Mattie smiled at her friend who was practically buzzing with excitement at the prospect. 

“Enough about me, we’ve been talking about me all afternoon. Did you find out from your boss anymore about your job?” Mattie sighed, admittedly she had been avoiding the subject, but such was Adam that he would bring it up eventually.

She had received a call from her boss around a week ago explaining to her that due to the financial pressures Covid had placed upon the small company she worked for, that it was likely they would be liquidating the business before the month was up.

Mattie had been blissfully ignoring the issue, escaping to the dreamland in her head where everything was fine and her employment wasn’t in jeopardy. That dreamland had come crashing down around an hour prior when she had gotten an email from the CEO explaining that they were all being let go effective immediately. 

“Yeah, so, Glenn sent an email about an hour ago confirming it… bit shitty of him to do it over email, but yeah, I’m unemployed” breathing deeply Mattie held back the tears she knew were threatening to escape from her eyes.

“Oh fuck, Mattie, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe you’ve just let me sit here and tell you about all this when you’ve got this bottled inside you, why didn’t you say anything sooner? Are you ok? Do you want a hug? Or is this one of those times where if I hug you it’ll make it worse and you’ll start ugly crying? Do you want me to beat up Glenn? I’ll do it-” 

“Adam stop. I’m fine. Honestly, it sucks, and yeah I’m upset but we knew it was coming. It’s fine, I’ve got some money saved up so I’ll be alright for a little bit and I’ll start sending out CV’s to some companies and I’ve got connections now. I’ll find something, it’s just, yeah, it’s just shit” Mattie said, cutting off Adam from his rambling.

Adam was great, she knew that no matter what she could rely on him to have her back, but he did have a tendency to panic when he thought that his friend was sad.

That’s just how he was, over protective and ready to punch her boss in the face if she asked him to. 

Adam nodded, checking for signs of tears on the girls cheeks. Once he was satisfied she wasn’t going to start crying he stood up and headed for the fridge, opening the door and pulling out a bottle of rose wine he knew Mattie kept there for emergencies.

“Well, in that case, I’ll order us a pizza and what do you say we get drunk and watch a movie? I’ll even let you watch Tangled seeing as I’m such a good best friend”. Mattie grinned looking at him from the sofa. She was so glad he decided to play racing cars with her when they were kids.

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✯ authors note: hey guys! it's been a bit of a crazy couple days... as a a ferrari gal i'm still a little bit in shock and processing the news tbh. anyways, i've got like 6 days off work so i'm hoping i'll be able to post a couple updates if anyone's interested and reading. still finding my feet a bit with writing/editing again so if anyone has any (helpful) suggestions or feedback pls let me know. asks are always open and would love to chat with some of you :) ✯

[geminiwritten]

untouched ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: billy hasn’t touched you for months, and you’re frustrated, so you decide to invest in some skimpy lingerie in the hopes that he won’t be able to resist

notes: YES, this is (very loosely) based on the song ‘untouched’ by the veronicas and if you haven’t heard it, it’s a bop. also, i’m so sorry for the terrible british accent writing, and i’m sorry for the fade-to-black but i was too chicken to actually write all the smut. please let me know what you think!

side note: i would die for this man (billy butcher and karl urban)

warnings: a lot of swearing, beer, very light smut, and some google translated french

word count: 5848

You hadn’t originally planned for Frenchie to come along on your little shopping trip, it was supposed to be MM, but when he got a call from Janine, you couldn’t possibly have asked him to prioritise you over his own daughter. Hughie had offered to drive you, of course, but you decided that Frenchie was the lesser of two evils in this situation, and you refused to go alone. Lately, you weren’t the biggest fan of going anywhere alone.

“Ooh,” Frenchie coos, pulling a lacy baby doll from one of the racks and holding it up to his own body. “I think this would suit me, no?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I think it would, why don’t you try it on?”

He giggles and throws the garment over his arm. “I think you, mon amour, would look ravishing in it.”

So here you were, in the middle of the lingerie section in one of New York City’s largest department stores, shopping for scandalous undergarments with Frenchie. You have to admit, he is a huge boost for your self-esteem, but you trusted him much less than MM to keep this little shopping trip a secret.

“What about this one?” he asks, holding up a bodysuit styled after Starlight’s costume that left even less to the imagination than her suit already did.

You scoff, “Absolutely not.”

He giggles again as he returns the bodysuit to its rack. You were doing your best to avoid anything that resembled the costume of a Supe, even if some of Queen Maeve’s designs did catch your eye. The purpose for which you were buying would definitely be negated by anything that looked like it had been produced by Vought.

“May I ask,” Frenchie says as he catches up to you at the next rack, “what exactly are you looking for, and why?”

“I just need some new underwear,” you lie. “The washing machine at that dingy apartment only works half of the time and I figured that buying more underwear was a more economical option than buying a whole new machine.”

The second part wasn’t a lie, but you still had to turn away to hide your pink cheeks.

“Ah,” he sighs, moving around the rack to follow you. “So silly of me to assume that this had something to do with Monsieur Charcutier, but I suppose you would not lie to me, hm?”

Your pulses races, pumping even more blood into your cheeks and making the huge store feel suddenly stifling. You ignore his inference and turn toward a shelf full of wrapped latex garments, ranging from underwear to bras, to suspenders and gloves. The items draped over your arm are mostly lace and straps, so you choose a pair of latex hot pants and hand them to Frenchie.

“Like this,” you say, “practical underwear, perfect for fighting. I won’t have to worry about them falling down.”

He smirks. “Of course, and perhaps you will need this to?”

He takes a riding crop off one of the hooks beside the latex display and offers it to you.

“Better than a gun, in my opinion,” you state, taking the crop and holding it under your arm that is already full of lingerie.

“What is it for if not to spank a naughty, naughty Supe,” he chuckles.

After an hour of browsing and dodging Frenchie’s attempts to get you to reveal your true agenda, you approach the check-out counter. A surly old woman serves you, grumbling between disapproving glares as she scans each item that is more scandalous than the last. You’re so busy trying not to burst out laughing that you don’t even notice the inclusion of the riding crop until she hands you the bag.

“Have a great day,” she mumbles insincerely.

“And you too, mon chéri,” Frenchie says with a wink.

You grab his wrist and drag him behind you as you b-line for the store’s main doors. By the time you reach the curb, you’re both giggling like idiots and wiping tears from the corners of your eyes while strangers watch you with wary expressions. It’s only a short walk to the car, but you manage to compose yourself by the time you’re both climbing into your respective seats. The engine sputters to life, and Frenchie swerves into the busy traffic in the direction of your current residence.

“Be honest with me, mon amour,” he says, and you look up from your phone, “what is all this about?”

The paper bag is nestled between your feet, and you can see a buckled strap peeking out of it. None of your purchases were at all for practical use.

You sigh, “I honestly don’t know, Frenchie.”

“Butcher has been distant lately, no?”

You nod, and he glances at you from the corner of his.

“It has been rough,” he says, “and I know he is not good with his emotions, even in the best of times, but I know he does care about you.”

“I know.”

He moves a hand from the wheel to hold one of yours. “You do not need all of this to make him lo-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, your pulse spiking with panic, “please, don’t say that word.”

“Mon amour,” he sighs, and somehow in French the word sounds a lot less intimidating. “You are beautiful, do not ever forget it.”

You smile at him and raise his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “You’re beautiful too, Frenchie.”

He chuckles, “I know.”

It isn’t just that you’re afraid of that word when it came to Butcher, because there were so many more things to fear in this world, it was more to do with the fact that he hasn’t touched you in months. You knew, when it all started, that this situation wasn’t going to be easy and it definitely wasn’t going to be something that meant a whole lot to Butcher, but you went ahead and fell anyway. With the chaos of the cause you were all fighting for, and the uncertainty of whether or not any of you would live, you thought you’d be able to put your own desires on the back burner. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was good for a while, but then things got bad again and more skeletons crept out of the closet, and Butcher has all but forgotten about you. It isn’t that he no longer cares about you, because you know he does, but he’s been all work and no play for months now, and your heart is beginning to ache. And so is the place between your thighs that he is exceptionally good at satiating.

You might be stupid enough to fall for the man but you’re not stupid enough to assume that he might ever return those feelings, so you’ve decided to focus on the one element of intimacy you know he craves too.

“Looks like le Charcutier himself has returned,” Frenchie says, and only then do you realise the car has stopped.

Butcher’s car is parked at the curb in front of the decrepit apartment building that you currently call home, and you can swear there are new scrapes scratched along the passenger’s side doors. You tuck your purchases as deep into the paper bag as they’ll go before getting out of the car and following Frenchie into the building. You climb two sets of stairs and stop at the third door on the left, nervously chewing the inside of your lip while Frenchie fumbles with his keys.

“You know,” he whispers, pausing as he turns to you, “he might not-”

“Frenchie,” you hiss, “I don’t want to talk about the consequences, okay?”

He sighs, “I just don’t want you to be upset if he does not appreciate this the way you want him to.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

You snatch his keys and jam the big rusted one into the doorknob, twisting it angrily and pushing the door open before he can say another word. You knew your plan had holes, but you didn’t have the patience to try and talk any sense into yourself because Butcher was the only thing on your mind. He has been from the moment you met him.

The first person you see is MM, sitting on the couch watching old cartoon reruns with a content smile on his lips. Hughie is in the kitchen, on the phone to his dad and by the sound of it, attempting to talk him through the process of rebooting his Wi-Fi router. Your frustration dissipates at the sight of normalcy, or as normal as it got for people who live the way that you all do. It’s been quiet lately, more reconnaissance than murder, and more time to plan and recover for when things inevitably go wrong.

“Hey,” MM calls, “how did you go?”

He immediately glances at the bag and grin splits across his face.

Hughie bids his father goodbye before tucking his phone in his pocket and looking to you, his frown turning quizzical. “What is that?”

“It is a- uh,” Frenchie puts a finger to his lips, “how do you say flagellateur?”

“You bought a cane?” Hugh gasps, “What the hell for?”

MM chuckles, “I believe Frenchie called it a flogger.”

“For the naughty Supes,” Frenchie says, pulling it out of the bag before you can react.

Hughie bursts out laughing as Frenchie moves like lightning and smacks MM across the bottom with the crop, a sharp cracking sound echoing through the room. MM yelps, turning to Frenchie with a murderous glare.

“Touch me with that again and I’ll shove it so far up your ass, you’ll feel it in your throat,” he threatens.

Frenchie smirks, “Do not make promises you cannot keep, vilain garçon.”

MM moves to grab the crop, but Frenchie is faster. He steps back and holds it behind his back, giving himself a light tap on the thigh and moaning wickedly. Hughie’s laughter bubbles up again, and even MM can’t help from chuckling.

You roll your eyes despite your amusement, “Come on, Frenchie, that’s enough.”

“Au contraire, mon petit chat,” he coos, “we are just getting started.”

“Who’s gettin’ what started?”

All four of you turn toward the familiar voice – gruff and always a little sarcastic – to find Butcher standing in the door to the main bedroom. His hair is damp and tousled, and his signature trench coat absent.

“Nothing, Monsieur Charcutier,” Frenchie says, still holding the crop behind his back.

“What the bloody hell are you hidin’?”

Hughie is struggling to hold back his laughter, his eyes watering with the effort. The boy is definitely sleep deprived, though this time you blame Annie more than the vigilante lifestyle.

Butcher takes two heavy steps forward and his brows furrow. “Is that a fuckin’ riding crop?”

“Oh, this?” Frenchie shows him the flogger. “This is Mademoiselle Y/N’s.”

He steps toward you and slides the crop back into your bag.

“We went shopping,” you say, forcing yourself to meet Butcher’s eyes despite the overwhelming urge to run back out the door.

He cocks his head, “You went shoppin’ with Frenchie, ‘n’ bought a fuckin’ sex toy?”

You nod slowly, feeling the blood burn in your cheeks. The air is suddenly thick, and you struggle to draw anything more than a shallow breath as you wait in silence for someone to say something. You know it’s bad when even Frenchie shuts up.

“Right,” Butcher glances at the bag in your hand before turning to MM. “Well, since everyone’s ‘ere, we might as well go over what we know ‘bout the rally this weekend.”

Hughie rushes over to the small dining room table to retrieve his laptop, and MM turns the television’s volume down to zero. Butcher looks back at you, and then to Frenchie.

“Unless,” he says, “you two had somethin’ better to do?”

Frustration bubbles up in your chest, and your embarrassment turns into irritation.

“Just let me get changed.”

You don’t wait for a response before turning on your heel and marching into your room, slamming the door for effect. You tip the contents of your shopping bag on the bed and begin stripping out of your jeans. It is hot in this dingy little apartment, since no one had yet been successful in getting the thermostat to work, so your decision to change into shorts and a loose button-up wasn’t totally uncalled for. It just so happens that you decided to swap your bra and panties for a sheer black bodysuit with a built-in harness that wrapped around your chest and waist, and down around your bum into thigh garters. You button your shirt enough to only just show the straps over the curve of your breasts, and make sure the garters are tucked under your shorts before remerging into the living room.

The boys are gathered around the kitchen bench, Frenchie and Hughie looking at the laptop while Butcher and MM point at what you can guess is a map on the countertop. You assume Kimiko is still sleeping, and no one was game enough to try and wake her.

“We’re not sure if anyone from corporate is scheduled to attend,” Hughie says, “but it looks like every member of the seven have been ordered to appear.”

You step between Frenchie and MM, right across from Butcher. Frenchie glances at you, his eyes dropping for less than a second to your cleavage before he gives you a cheeky smirk. You press your lips together to keep from laughing, and when you look toward Butcher you find his eyes already on you, or rather, on Frenchie. If looks could kill, the poor French man would be a pile of dust on the floor.

“It would be suicide to try anything at this thing,” MM states, “with all of them there, the security is going to be tight.”

“I agree,” Hughie says, “so if we go, it has to be lowkey, and we can’t be recognised.”

“So that rules out you and Butcher,” you point out, leaning past Frenchie to see the laptop screen.

“You and I can go, then,” MM points at a spot on the map, “we recon from the outskirts, and Frenchie waits off side in case we need an emergency extraction.”

“No,” Butcher says, his eyes trained on you with an intensity that made your spine feel like a gummy worm, “she’s not goin’ anywhere near this shit show. Her and Hughie watch from this buildin’,” he points at a building two blocks from the main event, “me ‘n’ you go in for recon, ‘n’ Frenchie ‘n’ Kimiko will be waitin’ nearby.”

You frown, “Hughie can do the surveillance on his own, and you can’t go anywhere near Homelander. I’ll go in with MM.”

“No,” he says again, “you’re not gettin’ that close.”

“This isn’t close,” you point at the map where MM had, “and if you’re worried then you can wait with Frenchie but Butcher, you can’t be seen. It’s too risky.”

“You wan’a know what’s risky?” he snaps, his gaze dropping to your chest.

You cross your arms, fully aware that it accentuates your breasts.

“Fuckin’ arguin’ with me.”

You roll your eyes and take a step back. “Fine, get yourself killed for no fucking reason Butcher, see what I care.”

Tension rolls through the room like a dark storm cloud, rumbling with impending thunder as it settles right between you and the man you’re glaring at.

“No one is going to die,” Hughie speaks cautiously, “we’re not going there for a fight.”

“I know that.” you snap, though your eyes don’t dare leave Butcher’s. “Tell him that.”

“Butcher,” MM says, “I know you want to lead, but she has a point.”

Butcher scoffs, “I don’t give a damn about whether I’m on the front line or not, but she’s not goin’ anywhere near those fuckers. ‘Specially if I’m not at her fuckin’ side.”

Your heart stutters and your resolve cracks. Your shoulders slacken as every measure of intimidation you had built up dissolves and the stupid but familiar feeling of warmth and longing spreads through your body.

“We’re not getting close, Butcher,” Hughie says, “all we need is-”

“That,” Butcher spits, pointing at the same spot on the map, “is too fuckin’ close.”

MM looks at you, waiting for you to argue some more. Butcher rarely listens to anyone, but on the occasion that he does, it’s often you. But right now, you’re tired and you’re sick of arguing with this man when all you really want is for him to throw you up against a wall and tear your clothes off.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “you’ve got to live your life the way you want, right, Butcher?”

You circle around Hughie, around the kitchen bench, and behind Butcher where the barely functional fridge is. Silence hangs heavy in the air as you open it, bottles rattling in the door. You take a bottle of beer from the shelf and shut it again, turning to the drawer where you last saw the bottle opener, but it isn’t there. Sighing, you turn on your heel to stand beside Butcher and lift the hem of your shirt to wrap it around the bottle top, using it to buffer your hand as you struggle to get the cap off. With a soft pop, the cap comes free and so does another button on your shirt, revealing the little gold buckle connecting the straps between your boobs.

A small, triumphant smile quirks your lips as you look up, meeting Butcher’s gaze much closer than before. His eyes are dark, his pupils devouring almost all of his hazel irises.

Frenchie clears his throat, keeping his own gaze locked on the map. “Hughie says that most of the roads will be closed, but if we park the van here,” he points to a side alley, “we should be able to leave quickly, if we need.”

“What about the perimeter guard?” MM asks, “They’ll have more than usual, and I don’t doubt half of them will be Vought’s B-listers.”

Hughie nods, “Annie said they’ve been flying in all week, from almost every state.”

You can’t focus standing this close to Butcher, feeling the warmth rolling off his body and from the corner of your eye, seeing him turn to you every couple of seconds. He isn’t subtle about it at all, and with his height advantage, you know he can see right down your loose shirt. When you try to focus on the map, you can see his hands in fists at his side, knuckles white with strain.

“What do you think?” Hughie asks, at which you only respond with a slow blink. He frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just tired.”

You raise a hand to your neck and tilt your head to the side, rubbing at your hot skin and subtly letting the collar of your shirt slip off your shoulder. When you glance at Butcher, you know you’ve almost got him. His neck is red and jaw set as he watches you like you’re prey.

You bite your lip to hide your smile, surveying the map with a wicked idea when Frenchie, bless him, asks the perfect question. “Do we know where Homelander will be arriving?”

“There,” you reply, stretching onto your toes and reaching across the bench. “From there, he will walk through this audience before flying to the stage.” You arch your back as you trace your finger along with the directions, feeling your shorts ride up and the garters on your thighs dig into your flesh.

Another beat of silence pulses through the room before Butcher clears his throat. You look to him quickly, only to find him glaring at Hughie, and when you turn to the boy in question you realise that he too had noticed the black straps on the backs of your thighs.

“Sorry, uh, yeah,” he mutters, cheeks pink, “Homelander is the only one who won’t be escorted directly to the stage. They want to create hype, so he’ll be moving around to greet fans.”

“Well, we better make sure we’re not anywhere near wherever he’ll be,” MM says.

Hughie nods, “If he follows orders, he’ll stay within the barriers. Vought is wary and with all their assets in one place, they’ll be making sure even Homelander is on his best behaviour.”

Frenchie chuckles, “They do not want golden boy starting a civil war in the middle of the city, eh?”

“They know that there’s a huge chance of anti-Supe protest,” you say, “which raises another issue, access. No one in a two-mile radius will be allowed in without verification.”

Hughie turns his laptop to face the group, “I’ve been working on that, but I need to know who is going in so I can print ID badges.”

The four of you look at Butcher.

“It’s your call,” MM says.

He blinks as if suddenly returning to reality, and shifts awkwardly on his feet so his hips are pressed against the kitchen bench. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice thick, “I don’t wan’a think abou’ it right now, alrigh’?”

Hughie nods and closes his laptop, and MM sighs though his small smirk is betraying as his eyes meet yours.

“Well,” Frenchie says, “if we are done here, I am going to go get us something for dinner.”

MM tucks his phone into his pocket, “I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” Frenchie frowns.

MM glances at Butcher before turning back to Frenchie. “Really.”

“I’ll come too,” Hughie says quickly, “I-I mean, I was going to see Annie, anyway.”

Frenchie’s smirk is so wide you’re worried his cheeks are going to split. The three of them hurry out the door, muttering goodbyes and arguing over who is going to drive before leaving you and Butcher alone with the storm cloud of tension still rumbling in the air.

You down half your bottle of beer in one swig before sighing, “Well, as much as I would love to keep arguing, I’m going to-”

“Oh, you’re not goin’ anywhere, sweethear’.”

You only just have enough time to turn around before Butcher traps you with a hand on either side, gripping the bench with white knuckles.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?”

You feign an innocent frown, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

His breath comes and goes with a shudder, and you can feel it fan across your bare neck.

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout this,” he hooks a finger under the garter around your thigh and lets it go with a snap. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout you goin’ shoppin’ with Frenchie for fuckin’ sex toys.”

“Okay,” you smirk, “and what exactly is there to talk about?”

His head cocks, and you feel like prey staring down a predator.

“What is there-” his eyes narrow. “What is there to fuckin’ talk about? I don’t know, maybe when the fuck you started fuckin’ around!”

His rage, though intimidating, only turns you on. It shouldn’t, but it does.

“Am I not allowed to fuck around, Butcher?” you ask, watching the pulse in his neck race.

An emotion flickers behind his eyes, too fast for you to discern, but it’s strong enough to relieve his frown and he almost looks hurt.

“Do you want to fuck around?” he asks, his voice low.

You can’t figure out if he’s baiting you or not, or if it’s just the aching in your chest that’s trying to convince you that he might actually be feeling something.

You decide to guard yourself, keeping a smirk on your lips. “Are you offering?”

He releases his grip on the bench and rubs both hands through his hair, making it stand in jagged spikes.

“Look,” he sighs, “I know it ain’t any of my business, but if you and Frenchie are-”

“I’m not fucking Frenchie!” you exclaim, the past few months of frustration finally breaking out of the bottle.

“Oh,” he straightens, “good.”

“Good?” you echo, “For fuck’s sake Butcher, you are thick.”

His frown returns and before you can move, he traps you again. “What was that?”

“I said, you are thick,” you press your bum into the bench in a lame attempt to create distance. “If you think I’m sleeping with Frenchie- with anyone, you’re an idiot, but you know what? I already fucking knew that.”

“Yeah? And when did you figure that one out?” he asks, once again a predator who has cornered his prey.

“About three months ago, when I woke up and you weren’t there,” you say, fighting the lump in your throat. “You fucked off for three days, Butcher. No one knew where you were, you didn’t answer your fucking phone, and when you got back, you acted like nothing had fucking happened.”

You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you wait for him to bite back, but he doesn’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh, “And now you won’t even fucking touch me.”

“Is that what you want?” he whispers.

You can only nod, too afraid that another word from your lips will turn into a cry. He breaks your stare and lets his eyes fall to your chest, slowly moving his body closer until it’s completely pressed against yours. You can feel him against your lower belly, not fully hard but definitely there and probably the reason he was hiding himself against the bench before.

Unlike the last time he touched you, this one is gentle. His fingers start at your jaw, just below your ear, tracing the sensitive skin right down to your collarbone and stopping at the swell of your breast. He groans, the deep sound rumbling from his chest and reverberating through your body. Your breath is shallow as you wait impatiently for him to kiss you, watching his lips like an addict yearning for a taste of the drug that only he can provide.

He denies you, though, instead dipping down to press his mouth against your bare shoulder and sending waves of electricity dancing across your skin. It isn’t exactly what you wanted, but its enough to make you sigh, and you roll your head back to allow him better access. His lips leave gentle kisses along your collarbone, the scratch of his beard raising goosebumps in its wake.

You feel like you can breathe for the first time in months, and your heart is beating so violently within your chest that you know he can feel it on his lips. A small voice at the back of your head is screaming, telling you to stop and push him away, because the further this went, the less control your head would have over your heart. Your heart that is threatening to crack a rib as it tries to surrender itself to the man in front of you.

When his lips leave your skin, you whine, but he doesn’t smirk like he usually does. He doesn’t make a sarcastic comment about how needy you are, or even look up to meet your eyes. His gaze is on your chest as his hands come up to the collar of your shirt, fingers curling into the soft material before yanking it apart. The buttons break, popping off the shirt entirely and scattering across the kitchen floor. He gasps, almost inaudibly, but you know you heard it.

This isn’t like before, he’s too quiet and too gentle, aside from the whole ruining your shirt thing. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, longing for approval as his dark eyes devour your scantily clad torso. His hands follow the curve of your body down to the waistband of your shorts, finding the button and popping it with much less force than they did the shirt. His fingers hook inside the denim and guide them down over your hips and past your thighs before letting them drop to the floor. Then he steps back.

You feel empty without his warmth, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with your arms while he observes you from the other side of the kitchen. Given, it is a small kitchen and he’s barely two steps away, but you suddenly feel like an exhibit on display.

You swallow thickly, “If it’s- uh, if you don’t like it I can-”

“I fuckin’ love it,” he says, his voice low and raspy as he closes the distance again.

Pressed against you, you can feel him hard behind his jeans, and you can’t help feeling a little proud.

He cups your jaw with both hands, his face only inches from yours. “I fuckin’ love you,” he mutters, before crushing his lips to yours.

The taste of his mouth sets your tongue ablaze, but instead of melting into a puddle like you know you should have, your spine goes rigid. The voice in the back of your head grows louder, clearer, as it rushes to the front and crashes against your skull, screaming.

He notices you tense up, and pulls back immediately, not offended but afraid. His frown is deep and his mouth slightly agape, realising what he’d said and knowing that it’s the reason for your reaction.

You stare at him, “What did you say?”

He takes a generous step back and runs a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

“Butcher,” you press, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and compensate for the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry, love,” he sighs, “I didn’t-”

The lump in your throat rises, “You didn’t mean it?”

“No, no,” he says quickly, “I meant it, jus’ didn’t mean to say it.”

“You meant it?”

He nods slowly.

You blink quickly to try and repress the moisture filling your eyes. “You meant it as in… you love me?”

He nods again and you can feel your whole body beginning to shake.

“D-Do you love me like-like a vice?” you ask, your voice unsteady. “Like you love drinking and smoking or-”

“I love you like I fuckin’ love you, okay?” he snaps.

The irritation in his voice makes you flinch, and he regrets it immediately but refuses to move toward you again.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N,” he sighs, “isn’t it fuckin’ obvious? I haven’t fucked you in months.”

You frown, “Yeah, and why would that make me think you love me?”

“‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ twat who doesn’t know what’s good for him,” he says, “and sweethear’, you are too fuckin’ good for me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You!” he exclaims, “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous and young, and you shouldn’t be in any of this shit, let alone in it with someone like me.”

It feels like your heart is swollen, pressing against your ribcage and squeezing all the air from your lungs. Your pulse races, blood rushing to your head and making you dizzy as you try to make sense of his words.

“Butcher,” you close the distance between your bodies, pressing him against the opposite bench, “I want you, and everything that you want.”

He keeps his arms rigid by his sides as he stares down at you, his pupils still blown with lust.

“If you want me to leave you alone, then I’ll stop,” you say. “If you want me to fuck off, then I’ll go, but no matter fucking what, I’m yours because I love you. I don’t have a choice about that, because I fucking need you."

He breaks your stare to look up at the ceiling, letting go of a long sigh before looking back down with the smallest quirk in his lips. “You’re gon’a fuckin’ kill me, aren’t you?”

You smirk, “I’ll certainly try.”

His hands find your bum, pressing you impossibly close as his lips crash into yours and it feels like your heart bursts, sending shockwaves through your body and turning your limbs into jelly. With a soft grunt, he lifts you up and pushes away from the bench, allowing you to wrap your legs around his hips. You can feel him completely now, rock hard and rubbing against you in the most delicious way as he carries you across the room toward your bedroom.

Your hands are tangled in his hair as you kiss him sloppily, pouring every bit of frustration and longing into his mouth until he pulls away and drops you onto the bed. He begins unbuttoning his shirt and your fingers find his belt, eye level with you as you clumsily unravel it.

“An’ what’s all this?” he asks, calling your attention to the pile of lingerie dumped on the bed.

You would have blushed if your face wasn’t already burning red. “Just some things I bought.”

“Jus’ some things, huh?”

He picks up one of the lacy red garments and holds it up, a devilish smirk stretched across his lips. “Who’re plannin’ on wearin’ all this for, love?”

“Well,” you giggle, “Frenchie was very approving of it all when I was trying them on, so…”

He throws the lacy thing aside and pushes you back on the bed with a hand around your throat. His legs straddle your hips, pressing against your throbbing core and sending jolts of excitement up your spine.

“If any other fucker ever sees you in this, I’ll cut his fuckin’ throat,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as his beard tickles your cheek. “You’re gon’a wear all of this for me, and I’m gon’a ruin all of it.”

You move your hips for some sort of friction as a soft whine escapes your lips, but his other hand grabs your side with bruising strength and holds you still.

“Do you understand me, sweethear’?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “yes, I understand, Butcher. Just fuck me already.”

His hand tightens around your throat and another wave of heat washes over you.

He tuts, “What have I said ‘bout manners?”

“Butcher,” you groan, clawing at the fastening of his jeans.

His hands leave their places on your body to grab your wrists, easily transferring both of them into one hand, restraining you as he sits up. He reaches behind himself on the bed, and you wriggle impatiently beneath his weight.

“Think I need to teach you a lesson,” he says with a grin, holding the riding crop in his other hand.

Thrill bursts in your stomach and you feel yourself clench, wetness pooling in the crotch of your bodysuit.

“You ready for me to show you how to use this thing, doll?” he asks, touching it to the valley between your breasts.

The leather loop is cool against your hot skin, even through the sheer material as he traces it down your sternum and all the way to your belly button. All you can do is nod, holding your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress the whimpers wanting to escape.

He pulls the crop back before softly smacking it against your right breast. The gossamer fabric leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and his eyes light up at the sight of your taut nipple.

“You, my love,” he murmurs, caressing your left breast with the crop, “are fuckin’ diabolical.”

END.

[grimbluesins]

okay this is why my blog needs to look good (i wasn’t expecting to finish this so quickly)

hi korn :3 (the quality’s better than it looks in the google drive i swear to god)