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ceilidho · 8 months ago

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 14)

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It’s you for once crawling over him in the dead of night and stroking your hand down the side of his face.

Any other night, you would be able to brush off the urge to curl yourself around him and press your lips into the bristly corner of his jaw, but after a long day of waiting and worrying, and a week’s worth of pent up stress and guilt, you have no choice but to succumb to your urges. It’s burrowed so deep inside of you that it’s almost a base need now. You need to be as close to him as possible.

John coaxes you to bed once you finish bandaging his hands. It’s not meant presumptively; you can tell from the deep bags under his eyes that he needs sleep more than anything.

For a spell, you sleep with the comfort of your husband by your side. After a week of keeping to your side of the bed, body stiff to keep from turning over in your sleep and curling up into his—committed, in your ire, to punishing both him and yourself—you relish the opportunity to snuggle up under his arm.

The ache between your legs only becomes unmanageable somewhere around the middle of the night. You wake in a daze, sweating profusely, cheek pressed to a hard chest that rises and falls with his breaths. It takes a moment for the fog to clear, but once it does you realize that you’ve rolled on top of him, legs spread on either side of a thick thigh and your sex pressed tight to the muscle, your hips undulating.

Your lips part enough for your tongue to slip out and wet them. Another wave of need washes over you, making your breath come out ragged. Your vision is still spotty, sleep half-crusted into the folds of you, and with the room still ensconced in darkness, no amount of blinking ever clears it out.

The air around you feels hot and humid; your skin sticks to his when you lift your head up, your face damp with sweat. John’s hand is loose at your bottom, curved under a cheek to hold you to him. The other is nestled against the small of your back. Your shift is drawn up around your waist, likely riding up when you crawled over your husband in the middle of the night, but it means that only the thin fabric of your underwear is pressed against John’s thigh. Every roll of your hips rubs your clit in just the right way.

You pant against his chest when you roll your hips again. You’d be humiliated if he woke up to see you humping his leg like a puppy, but you can hardly control yourself. In the month since marrying him, you’ve grown accustomed to a certain amount of relief at your husband’s hands, and to suddenly lose that in one fell swoop has left you, for lack of a better word, frustrated.

“Hmm…darlin’…” John suddenly groans, hand gripping into the flesh of your backside and grinding your sex down against his leg.

You still at the sound of his voice, biting back your moan when he shifts his thigh and presses it up into you. He wakes gradually, blinking down at you when you peer up at him. The blood rushes under your cheeks, growing hot when he blinks at you again slowly, realization unfurling behind his eyes like a lotus flower blooming under moonlight.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” you whisper, choking back a moan again when his hand slides down your bottom and in between your legs, fingers rubbing against the wet seam of your cunt.

John chuckles, the sound raspy with sleep. “Christ, honey, you’re wet…should’ve told me you needed a good fucking.”

“You n-needed to sleep,” you say, gasping into his chest when John strokes his fingers up and down between your thighs. The sensation is mildly dulled by the fabric covering your center, but his prodding fingers make you jolt anyway.

“Darlin’, If I’d known, I never would’ve let you go to bed wanting.”

He maneuvers you onto your side for long enough to let him draw your underwear down your legs before rolling over onto his back again and balancing you over his lap. With your knees on either side of his hips, your cunt is spread wide open for his gaze, the soft, dewy folds parting to expose your slick center.

Words are silken in your head and they slide from side to side as you watch John lift his hips and reach down to pull himself out. He moves with a practiced ease, but the flush high on his cheeks betrays his eagerness. You run your hands through the pelt on his chest as you stare at the glistening tip of his member poking out the top of his grip.

“We’ve never done this,” you remark, almost a casual observation. Despite your heart beating rabbit-quick, the words aren’t caught behind your tongue. Instead, John's presence acts like a balm, nervousness bleeding away to anticipation.

“First time for everything, isn’t there?”

“I suppose,” you murmur, eyes locked on the turgid length that he notches against your entrance, impaling you on it so slowly that it almost doesn’t register at first.

You feel the stretch when he bottoms out though. The last inch comes all at once, winding you. It is a frightening, soaring sensation; a blunt intrusion that takes you to another place. No pleasantries this time because you’re an old hat at this now, you suspect, but still you gasp when his girth stretches you beyond what you recalled.

“Fuck…there it is,” John grunts, transferring his hands to your waist. “Christ, tightened right up since we last made love, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

His words, while crass, hold true. You can feel every throbbing inch of him.

“It’s not like—” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, sweat beading around your hairline. “I wasn’t about to, ah… fool around with anybody else.”

“‘Course you wouldn’t, darlin’,” he croons, stroking his hand up your side. “We just had a little spat, is all. I know you’re my good girl.”

His words make you clench up tight, drawing a rumbling groan out of him.

“N-no, I’m not a good…—I’m just…it just wouldn’t be right. We’re married. I’d—I’d never…” The words come out shaky, punched out because he takes that moment to help guide you up, nearly pulling out of you completely before bringing you back down.

“Knew you were my good girl soon as I saw you,” John muses, his voice low and husky, hands gripped tight at your waist. “Couldn’t wait to make you mine. Wasn’t even supposed to marry you right away—thought we’d get to know each other a bit, but then—”

“You—oh, unf—you dragged me to the courthouse.”

He smiles roguishly. “I couldn’t let you go after I saw you. Had to make you mine, darlin’.”

You ride him carefully at first, unsure of yourself.

It’s strenuous work taking his cock this way, doing all the heavy lifting yourself. You almost think you’d fight him if you weren’t lost in pleasure, eyes defocusing as you stare down at him. Each time you impale yourself on his length, your breath hitches out of you. A sharp oh, oh, oh; chasing something elusive that wants you after it.

When your thighs feel strained to the point of burning, you beg him to hurry up. Enough, you blubber, the word almost subsumed into a guttural moan. That makes him grit his teeth, a dark look coming over his face. You hiccup when he plants his feet against the bed and his hips buck up into you, the squelch of your own cunt making your fingers dig into his chest hair.

All you can do is take it, your hands planted on his chest and jaw dropping open on a moan that you can’t hold back.

Tears clumping your eyelashes together, a single drop landing in the middle of John’s chest when he forces you all the way down on his cock and holds you there, jiggling the pearl at the apex of your sex with his thumb until you almost struggle to pull away. He always has to fight you through an orgasm, the stubborn thing trapped behind your teeth, begging him to use you how he wants.

When it hits you though, it’s sharp and hot. It makes you reel backwards, your control slipping out of your grasp so suddenly that the sharp buck of his hips nearly knocks you clean off. He holds you down tight though, keeping you impaled on his shaft.

“There we go,” John rasps. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?”

After making you come, he rolls you over until your back is pressed against the bed and he hovers over you, nestled between your thighs. He drops down until his face is buried in your neck, a big arm wedging under your back and hooking over your shoulder, the other sliding under your low back and clutching your waist. When he thrusts into you, you realize with a start that he has you locked to his chest. You aren’t going anywhere.

“Christ, keep squirming like that,” John growls into your neck, sucking at the sweaty patch of skin between your neck and shoulder.

Each thrust knocks the air out of you. Where your skin isn’t slick with sweat, you itch. Overwhelmed by touch and taste. Teeth clacking when his hips speed up, driven into a frenzy by his own urge to come. And again, there’s nowhere for you to run, not with his arms wound tight around you, all of his strength concentrated on holding you to his chest. You don’t think anyone could pry him off you.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” you gasp, feeling it brewing under your skin again. The feeling makes you panicky this time though. He’s made you come plenty of times, but never in such quick succession.

The pitch of your moans goes breathy and high, rising to nearly a caterwaul.

He licks into the shell of your ear. “Got a little tighter there, sweetheart. Gonna give me another?”

You can’t answer him. Only intelligible babbling, a high, reedy plea whistled through your teeth. Your hands rake down his back, scoring red lines into the skin, and clutching helplessly, trying to both pull him closer and push him away. It’s almost too much, too soon.

“Almost there, almost there,” he pants, the sweat on his brow dripping down onto your face. It nearly drips into your eye. You wish he’d pull back and kiss you, sooth the panicked staccato of your heart, but he’s lost in his own need, bucking into you like a beast. “C’mon, give me it, sweetheart. Be a good girl.”

You’re on the precipice of it, hanging on with clawed hands dug into the muscle of his back. In danger of tipping over, a gale at your back. The intensity frightens you though. You cling to him like digging your hands into the earth to root you in place.

John’s arms tighten around you as he nears his end. You feel compressed, choked, only a warm slippery thing for him to plant his seed in.

His breath is hot in your ear when he rasps, “Where the fuck are your manners, darlin’? I said, give me it.”

Then he arches into it, spine going stiff when he empties himself into your cunt. His arms squeeze all the air out of your lungs. You must come more than once, a record, because by the time he pulls out of you, you practically sink into the bed, sapped of energy. Not enough strength to even twitch a finger.

John collapses onto the bed beside you, tugging you into his chest. It feels so intimate, lying on your side with a leg draped over John’s hip. You shiver when the sweat begins to cool.

He drags a finger through your puffy, raw sex from the back, scooping up his essence with two fingers. You go cross-eyed when he pushes it back into you, hissing and pushing against his shoulders, trying to dislodge him from between your legs. John doesn’t budge; his eyes barely even flick down to meet yours as he pushes more of his spend back into your hole.

Your chest goes tight at that.

After, he sits you upright with your back to his chest and holds a glass of water up to your lips, making you drink until it dribbles down your chest. A big hand rests on your belly.

“Why do you like touching there?” you ask, taking another sip.

“This is where my babe will sit,” he says, and you choke on your water, coughing until your lungs are clear and your eyes water. “Soon, with any luck.”

“You sure know what you want,” you wheeze, eyes still watering from your coughing fit.

He presses a kiss into your hair. “That I do.”

Two days later, John wakes you up with the news that an incident on a farm a few towns over will take him from you for the next few days.

You frown into your oatmeal. “Why so long?”

He sits at the table across from you with his chair pushed out, scraping off the mud caked on his boots with a dry brush. He sucks his cheek when you ask that question.

“Bit unpleasant to bother you with the specifics, darlin’, but, uh…suffice it to say that it’s not something we can wrap up in just one day.”

“Did someone die?” you ask bluntly.

John looks over at you from the corner of his eye, unimpressed. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Was it violent?”

“Jesus Christ, woman, you don’t need to go poking your nose into all of that.”

You roll your eyes at that. If he knew even a fraction of the things you’ve seen, he wouldn’t be nearly so askance at the thought of upsetting your delicate constitution. “But it’ll keep you there for some time?”

He nods. “At least a couple days. Maybe more. There’s matters to be dealt with, arrests to be made…won’t be easy work.”

“Is Simon accompanying you?”

“Both him and Kyle. I’m leaving Soap behind to keep the peace.”

“So you’re expecting to come back to the town in complete disarray then?”

John laughs at that, a big bellowing sound that makes you flinch and then warms your belly with delight.

Summer is well on its way to being flush with itself now. Katydids in the bushes outside whistle and burr, a raspy, percussive sound. Long strands of high cirrus clouds stretch across the clear blue sky. Spiders weave thick webs into the corners of the windows on the outside of the house, thin, filamentous strands of silk woven over each other until it’s a dense, compact web. Even the sound of the bees buzzing through the air sets you at ease.

The sound of your husband’s laughter seems to carry all of that in it, all of the fat, flushed joy of summertime.

“I might need a list of what to take care of around the house while you’re gone. I’ve never…I’ve never managed a house on my own before,” you say into your oatmeal, taking another bite.

You don’t know why it embarrasses you to admit that. John may not know about your previous circumstances just yet—you’ve never divulged stories of your time working at the estate or the years you spent living with your aunt and uncle—but he must certainly have guessed by now that you didn’t own property back east.

“The boys and I aren’t heading out from here; gotta meet them in town to settle a couple of things first, but that wouldn’t take too long.” He takes a long sip of coffee before continuing. “Planned on asking Soap to check on you a couple times while I’m gone. He could help with the chores.”

Your irritation flares up at that. You put down your spoon sharply, the metal clanging against the porcelain bowl. “Do you still think I’m going to run away?”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t respond.

“So nothing’s changed then, even after I’ve already apologized. You still don’t trust me,” you sigh, your appetite suddenly gone. You push the bowl away from you, taking a sip of coffee instead.

John sighs. You glance down at his hands instead of looking up into his eyes. His hands are still lightly ink-stained from reading the paper. The ink imprints onto your hand when he pulls his chair in and reaches across the table to lace your fingers together.

“You might just see my concern for what it is, instead of fighting me at every turn,” he drawls.

“Suppose I should say thank you then. I really appreciate being kept under lock and key,” you deadpan.

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve done so much to prove that you’re the staying type?” he teases.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“By my count, you’ve tried to run off twice. You sayin’ you won’t go for three?”

You stay mulishly silent, again going cold instead of deigning to have a conversation with the man. Your hand pulls from his grasp when you go to clean the table, taking the plates with you to the sink to wash. The brisk scrub and rinse betrays your mood, your shoulders tense with displeasure. You feel his gaze heavy on you from where he still sits at the table.

John catches you before you have a chance to skitter off, hooking an arm around your waist to reel you in.

“I never get off easy with you, do I?” he murmurs.

You harrumph, scrunching your nose when he nuzzles into the side of your head. Squawking when he plants a wet kiss there too.

John sees you off at the door with a kiss to your lips and then one to your forehead. His farewell kiss always seems to linger, as though he were reluctant for it to ever end. A disconcerting ache in your belly follows his departure. More than anything, you wish he’d turn back around and come home. Instead, you’re forced to bite your tongue and watch him leave because there are things more important than your desperate, cloying need for attention from a man that you once swore you’d run away from if given half a chance.

Now, as you stare at the shadow of him disappearing beyond the horizon, you can barely force your feet to take you back into the house.

The ache is a perturbing reminder of the seeds of trust and affection you’ve planted here. Now, they’ve begun to sprout, the buds opening up to tender, fragrant flowers. Those are the thoughts that occupy your mind when you go into the garden to harvest the lettuce heads and tomatoes. You think about all of this while staring down into the garden that John started so very long ago and now you tend. The earth here yields in abundance, but it requires a sure hand, and it rewards your joint efforts with a harvest that’ll last you through the winter if properly cultivated.

Part of you anticipates company, waiting for Kate or Soap to come down the path on horseback, but when hours pass and neither show up, you have to admit to yourself that perhaps John hasn’t left a guardian to watch over you this time. Your heart trips over itself at the thought.

Trust is a precious, easily spoiled gift. You know it is not given lightly, and you’ve not put in the effort to engender it in recent weeks. You wonder if John wrestled with the decision to leave you alone, weighing your hurt feelings against the assurance of keeping you at home and found the latter wanting for once.

You spend the better part of the morning gardening and cleaning. It muffles the longing. It’s entirely antithetical to the way you waited for John during the train robbery, but the different circumstances have you less on edge. The situation doesn’t seem as precarious. Never free of trouble, of course, but John hadn’t seemed too worried at breakfast, so you tell yourself that you shouldn’t worry either.

In fact, finding some way to occupy yourself proves the greater challenge. You hadn’t realized how much you’d grown to expect the company of others. The silence swells to a bubble that you itch to burst.

It takes a great deal of courage to talk yourself into riding Buttercup into town. You hold the reins so tight that your knuckles ache when you finally let go. Still, when the sun-bleached town comes into view and you no longer need to swat repeatedly at the horseflies pestering you, you celebrate the little victory.

You find Kate in the saloon enjoying a little brandy with lunch. Her eyes crinkle at the sight of you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” she says when you take a seat across from her.

“I couldn’t clean the house for a third time,” you shrug.

It’s not an exaggeration. You spent the better part of the morning yesterday scrubbing the floors and sweeping the leaves and mud from the foyer, paying special attention to the caked mud on the sill, where John has a habit of wiping off his boots. You’ll have to remember to pick up a mat for the porch on the way back home.

“You just missed my company so?” Kate teases.

You roll your eyes. “Who else do I have to talk to?”

“Well, don’t flatter me too much.”

“Anyway—no one, well…no one understands me…quite the same.” You speak evasively because you’re still too much of a coward to just say it outright. Nevertheless, Kate understands, and nods with a gleam in her eye that says as much.

“Probably best to keep it that way.”

You don’t know why her words make your chest ache. For a beat, you keep silent, ordering a drink and a small meal for yourself from a passing waiter.

“I’ve considered…telling John,” you start, a hesitant thread in your voice begging to be unraveled.

Kate glances up at that. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I thought that maybe…well, maybe he might understand…if I explained the circumstances to him.”

Her hand stills over her glass, face screwed up like she’s tasted something particularly unpleasant. “Seems like a dangerous game to play—risking your freedom on a maybe. It’s better to keep private matters just that. Private.”

Worry makes you wring your hands under the table. “You think he’d turn me in if he knew?”

Kate shrugs. “John’s a good man. He’s a good sheriff too. It’s a risky gambit. I can’t imagine what the trade off would be—I happened to find out by chance, but if you have the option to let buried dogs lie, I would take it.”

“Isn’t it ‘let sleeping dogs lie’?”

Her smile is not cruel, but it cuts. “Not in this case, hun. ‘Fraid we both know that.”

“Oh,” you murmur.

Her lack of faith leaves you at a loss. It takes you so long to come to terms with it that by the time you open your mouth again, you’re halfway back to the shop, following her step for step. Dark clouds loom ominously off in the distance, just far enough away that you don’t expect for them to reach town for another hour or so, but the sight of them compounds the somber mood you’ve fallen into since Kate’s words.

You don’t bring up the subject again until the rain begins to fall outside, slate grey like a gauzy veil. From the window, you peer down the street towards where Buttercup stands under the roof of the sheriff’s office, shielded from the rain. You stare morosely at the dirt ground; the rain will make walking anywhere after a hassle.

Kate must notice the general air of malcontent hovering around you because she apologizes to you when the ensuing silence from the morning’s conversation becomes unbearable. “Now, I don’t want you to think I hold John in poor esteem, hun. He’s a good man; I have no reason to think he’d ever turn you in for putting down the man that tried to…well, the man that tried to do you harm. I just don’t want you to regret your decision if I’m wrong.”

You shrug, bad mood not in the least assuaged. “It’s fine. It was a foolish idea. Why invite trouble when I’ve escaped it thus far?”

She doesn’t seem reassured at that. If anything, her scowl deepens. Instead of addressing it, you offer to help clean the shop, sweeping the back room and dusting the shelves. There are items on the shelves that look like they haven’t been touched in years, and you wonder whether Kate holds onto things after they’ve outlived their usefulness out of habit or an unwillingness to part with them. Then you shake your head of the thought. It shouldn’t matter to you.

Around midafternoon, a few trappers come in to stock up on supplies and spend the better part of an hour talking to Kate. You flatten your lips together to keep from cursing them out for tracking in mud and rain with them, but they studiously avoid looking at you.

“Morning, Mrs. Price,” one of them says, still keeping their gaze politely trained on the floor.

You roll your eyes internally. Not surprising that news would spread eventually of John’s new wife.

The conversation is of little interest to you, but you eavesdrop anyway because the rain hasn’t relented yet and there’s little else to do. Most of their conversation goes over your head, but some parts stick out. They tell her about a mutual acquaintance waylaid by a mountain slide up north forcing them to take another route home, and another who’d recently perished of consumption. Kate seems particularly upset by that, the lines around her mouth more pronounced than ever when she offers her condolences.

They stay until the rain lets up and then say their goodbyes before heading out.

“G’day, Mrs. Price,” the same one says to you before departing.

You smile bemusedly at the door. “I don’t suppose I’ve met either of them before and don’t remember it?”

Kate shakes her head. “Unlikely. Alex and Frank spend most of their time up north hunting and fur trapping. One of them has a cousin in town, but they visit only seldomly. It’s been a year or so since I last saw either of them.”

“Then how’d they know who I am?”

“Well, I imagine they probably read about it.”

“Read about it?” you repeat confusedly.

“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”

That unnerves you. Somehow, you thought you might fold into history like you’d always been there, but a marriage announcement in a newspaper punctuates the present. Your only reassurance is that the story ran over a month ago and therefore of little interest to anyone these days, at least from what Kate tells you; overshadowed by subsequent issues and stories. Old news, she tells you.

“What’s new news then?”

She ponders that for a bit. “Aside from what Frank mentioned? Hm…Farmer Shepherd’s ewe had a lamb the other night.”

“Who’s that?”

“A farmer, I reckon.”

You deadpan. “Funny.”

She laughs at that, a husky, amber sound. “Shepherd’s got a farm in the next town over. Kyle and I always stop to buy mutton whenever we’re in town.”

“Oh, that’s right, you were just there recently. Do you visit that often?”

“From time to time,” she says, vague enough to pique your interest.

“Must be good mutton.”

She snorts. “He’s not as good a butcher as Simon, but he’s alright. It’s worth stopping by. I wouldn’t call it a reason to make the journey though.”

“Then why do you go?”

She smiles a bit wistfully. “I have…a friend in town. It’s worth the trek.”

“Oh. A… male friend?”

You say the word tentatively, gauging her reaction in case you’ve overstepped. Usually you wouldn’t be so inquisitive. In fact, you’ve made it a habit to know as little about the people you keep company with as possible. But Kate is different. This place is different. Time in this town moves at a slower pace, and it swells in the moments where it seems endless. It makes you talk slower, chew the fat. You spend so much time around these people that it almost feels like a lifetime has passed in their presence. You feel close enough these days that asking doesn’t feel as forbidden as it used to.

“No. Not a man.”

It could mean nothing at all, but her words have just enough inflection in them that you can't help but meet her gaze.

“A woman?” you ask, caught between embarrassment at having to ask and curiosity.

She nods, her smile strained.

“Oh,” you say dumbly.

You can’t really think of what else to say in response to that revelation, but leaving it like that also feels wrong. It’s nothing you haven’t heard whisperings of before. Boston marriages. Sentimental friends. Spinsters cohabitating in virtuous friendship. It’s perhaps only shocking to finally put a face to the rumors.

“Well, that’s nice,” you say after another awkward pause. Kate rolls her eyes and her nonchalance vexes you. “What? It is!”

“You don’t need to get all twisted up. It is what it is. There’s no need to go making a fuss about it.”

You frown at that. “I would never.” Then something dawns on you. “Have other people made a fuss before?”

“…A few,” she answers, looking troubled when old memories flicker behind her eyelids. “A long time ago, in another place, but when I…well, I trusted more. There’s no one that could make a fuss about it these days.”

“But surely Kyle knows? He accompanied you to town last time.”

“Kyle does not know.”

“Then why tell me?” you ask, dumbfounded.

She holds you in her gaze for a few moments at that question, then comes out from behind the counter where her notebook still lies open, a thin strip of fabric acting as a bookmark.

“You have your secrets and I have mine,” Kate says, leaning back against the counter and clasping her hands loosely in front of her. “The same reason I won’t tell John what you’re running from. The less people that know the things that could hurt you, the safer you are.”

“You think John would do what—run you out of town if he knew?” you ask, hardly able to convey your disbelief.

“The point is that neither of us know until the very moment when it matters most.”

“But that’s not John,” you stress.

“It’s the same John that you won’t trust with your secrets either.” And that strikes true. It dumbs you into silence, mouth opening uselessly for words that don’t come. The battering behind your lips like an inch of give, opening then to silence across the open plain.

You want desperately to say something that just won’t come. But how can you say anything at all these days? How does your voice not give out at the slightest quiver of emotion? You speak with a voice plump like fig skin, easy give, and violet bruised. It is always tender when you bite it through.

When Kate notices the way you struggle for words, she takes pity on you, her smile more sympathetic than you’ve ever seen it. “Enough about that though. What say we get you something to eat before you head home?”

When the path of least resistance beckons you forth, you run towards it.

Your troubled conscience persists however, speaking into your ear even as the first shaft of sunlight pierces through the slate clouds and illuminates the town in a soft glow. It troubles you so fiercely that all you can think about is retreating home and burying yourself under the warm quilt draped over your bed. It has you hastening to say your goodbyes, excusing yourself on the basis of taking Buttercup home.

Bidding Kate farewell, you step out of the shop to see that the rain has cleared. Everything after that dispels into the thinly perfumed air.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader

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badgertracksart · 2 years ago

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Portfolio advice, from a lead who hires Concept Artists

(This was originally a twitter thread I wrote before the site self imolated, hense it's strange structure.) I wrote this after a weekend of portfolio reviews - 1. Like a maths exam, please please show your working. I want to see thumbs options, mid options and of course a final design.

2. Arrange your portfolio, I don't want to bounce about between subject matter and pipeline. Your portfolio's narrative should be as strong as your work... 3. Please make worlds that excite the viewer, make them want to go in and explore them, explain to them the interesting parts of the town, or the way the character's hat unfolds. How will this draw the viewer in? 4. As I've said before the majority of your project work is explanatory not mood, make sure your portfolio contains explanatory work. Explained here -

5. A lot of beautiful post apocolyptic paintings, , but 80% of realistic games and film, we just give the environment artists photo ref, they are capable artists in their own right. Different work in stylised where you do need to create rules for how things can be translated. 6. Production art contains call out sheets, material references and flat graphics. This doesn't have to be your final image, but it should support it.

7. Design characters on a swatch(es) of the environment they will be viewed in. Not on white. I make swatch backgrounds from screenshots, it avoids assumptions that damage readability. 8. Reverse of this, put people in your environments, show me the scale.

9. It's not a deal breaker for a review, but if you intend to get a job, please show me your work on a screen larger than a smartphone (print outs probably the cheapest option with the best battery life). 10. Please have your contact details clearly visible, and by that I mean email address, I will not pass your social media contact on, I cannot input your form into my tracking system. EMAIL ADDRESS emblazoned and bake it in, sometimes recruiters do funky stuff to pdfs

11. Your portfolio will never feel done, not to you anyway. You will have learnt from your latest pieces and want to apply it to older work. But we know art is a journey. Send your portfolio anyway. I've been in the industry 10+ years and my portfolio is still not 'finished'. 12. If you are applying to an environment centric Concept Art position then please vary your times of day! Golden hour is cool but show me some happy sunny days, looming overcast days, what about at night? Vary your weather too! Sunny snowy day? Rainy Spring day? Stormy night?

13. If you are applying for a character centric Concept Art role then please ensure your portfolio shows a variety of body types and ethnicities. 14. Designing characters for games? Please show back views and feet (!) Many potfolios contain only front views. This is a problem because:

You haven't shown you are considering the design from all angles.

In many games rear view is the main view.

Stop cropping feet.

15. If you are entry / graduating and looking at Portfolios to compare content and standard of yr own work too, look at hired grad/junior artists as opposed to seniors Seniors and leads often have old or personal work in their portfolio which isnt representative of the day job. 16a. Show clearly the intended use case for your Concept Art. Mention the game type in the description. Are these player character designs for a 3rd person adventure game? Then more back views please. Bonus points for diagetic ways of showing health / equipment / role etc.

16b. Are these designs for an FPS? Then really the player view of the gun needs to sell the player style/ choices, in an FPS your weapons are almost your character. Are these world designs? What's the view distance? For an RTS your shapes need to read from above & a distance. 16c. The lack of clarification means I am judging the design in isolation, which both harms the design (you might be considering the backview of a char as the main adventure character.) Or an NPC, their waist up expressions may be important for conveying exposition and mechanics.

16d. Concept art is not separate from gameplay, great concept art serves the game team before it is a good illustration.

17. Play games. A variety of games. Think about them. IMO to be a good concept artist you need to understand the common language & references used by your peers. Also understand the principles and common language your audience are used to. FPS design rules are v.diff from RTS.

18. There are many skills that are needed in concept art, please show them. For example: Graphic design - logos, liveries, typographic use etc. VFX concepts - Abilities, Ambience, motion concepts. Architectural knowledge - How buildings are built! & more but I'm out of space :O

#gamedev #conceptart #advice #careeradvice #hiring

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 months ago

Text

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 21

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18 || PART 19 || PART 20

Chrissy’s in Steve’s bed, sprawled out on her stomach, trying to plow through her homework when Steve says, “I need your help.”

Her heart’s in her throat as she whips her head toward him, already halfway through jumping up off the bed, ready to bury whatever body he needs burying.

But, he’s not even looking at her; he’s restlessly tearing a blank piece of paper into tiny little pieces, and his ears are a familiar, damning red. He’s not worried, he’s embarrassed.

“Jeez, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Chrissy sighs, flopping back down onto the bed. She’s gotten far too used to all of Steve’s problems being life or death, and whatever this is, she can tell it’s not that.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters.

She just waves her hand and flips her notes and textbook closed, ready to think about something, anything else. “What is it, boy troubles?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously, only to drop all pretenses when Steve ducks his head like a turtle hiding within its shell. “Already?”

“It’s not a problem, Chris, god,” he sighs, running his hand anxiously through his hair. “I just thought—nevermind, it’s stupid.”

And then he just, picks his homework back up, as if Chrissy would ever let him get away with that. “Steve Harrington,” she snaps, only feeling marginally bad when he snaps his head back up. “Nothing about you is stupid.”

He’s still turtling into himself, but he nods dutifully, so she continues. “Now, tell me what you were going to say.”

He groans, flopping down on the bed to stare up at his white ceiling, barely blinking. She follows his lead, collapsing bonelessly next to him and rolling atop all their coursework until she’s nestled into his side, both of them giggling.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, and finally begins to speak. “I have a date with Eddie tomorrow, right?” he says, looking down at her for confirmation. She nods, even though he’d never given her a specific date. “And I wanted you to help me, like, plan it?”

She blinks, nonplussed as the blush on his cheeks disperses across his cheeks. She rolls over, elbow planted on his chest so she can use it to prop her chin up and peer down at him. “You need help planning a date?” she asks, voice incredulous.

He groans, reaching up to hide his face from her view, but she grabs his wrists and yanks them back down. He pouts up at her while she watches on, unamused.

“Most of my usual date plans are like, public? We can’t exactly just show up at Benny’s and share a milkshake, you know?” Chrissy grimaces, not having thought of that, but before she can apologize, he continues talking. “And besides…”

He trails off, eyes darting back and forth between her eyes as his blush travels down his neck and up the bridge of his nose.

“Besides?” she prompts, voice soft.

“We started this whole thing together, right?” he asks, looking earnestly up at her. “It wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t finish it together.”

Chrissy’s shriveled heart grows three sizes and bursts with such a ferocious love that she collapses onto him without warning, arms wrapping around him and squeezing tight enough that he groans.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” she says, ignoring all his pleas for her to loosen her hold. “I’m so glad you looked pathetic enough that day for me to come ask if you needed help.”

“I didn’t look that pathetic,” he grumbles, finally succeeding in tossing her off of him, sending her careening off the bed and onto the lush carpet of his bedroom floor.

He peers over the side of the bed, looking worried, so she smiles up at him until he reaches down and helps her back up.

“You looked like a wet puppy someone had tossed in a river,” she replies, bulldozing through his continued complaints to ask, “now, what were you thinking?”

In the end, it’s a fairly typical date set-up, but instead of dinner at a nice restaurant, it’s in Steve’s home. They lay a checkered table cloth across the Harrington’s breakfast nook, make sure he has all the ingredients for burgers and fries, and then set about attempting to make milkshakes once Steve reveals he’s never made them before.

Their first attempt splatters chocolate ice cream and milk all over the ceiling. Their second results in a water concoction that, while edible, is less than pleasant.

The third is thick, barely able to be sucked through one of the straw’s Steve had stolen from Benny’s. It’s perfect.

“Can you dump Eddie so I can go on the date instead?” she asks, barely pausing in her pursuit of sucking the shake through her straw.

Steve laughs and replies, “Or, I can just make you one whenever you want,” he says, nudging the shake closer to her, leaving his own straw inside.

She beams, and drinks the entire thing.

Steve accosts her before lunch the day of, telling Jeff, “can you tell everyone we’ll be missing lunch? Thanks,” before dragging her away.

“I thought we were done with this,” she says, settling into the seat across from him as he pulls out a familiar notebook she hasn’t even glimpsed for weeks.

He opens it, but doesn’t turn to the back of the notebook where all his rough draft secret admirer letters lay. Instead, he pulls a light blue envelope from the front and hands it over to her.

She stares down at Eddie’s name in Steve’s messy scrawl, clearly written carefully to keep it legible.

“Steve?” she asks, ghosting her fingers over the letters before looking up into his anxious face.

“It’s just—I liked writing the letters, so I wanted to give him one on our date, so,” he breaks their gazes to look down at the envelope, biting his lip. “I already wrote it, but it wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t read it first.”

Steve Harrington, Chrissy thinks, eyes welling with all the fondness her body’s too small to contain. “Okay,” she sniffs, smiling down at the letter as she carefully slides her finger under the envelope’s flap and pulls it free.

It unfolds into the letter itself, Steve having clearly reverse-engineered it from all the times Eddie had done the same. Only then does she realize that at some point, he must have stolen a page from her planner because that’s the same as the first time, too.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything, just hunches back over the letter and begins to read.

Eddie —

I know we don’t have to do this anymore, but I miss it. Isn’t that the strangest thing? I’m happy talking to you face to face, holding your hand beneath the table, pressing my lips against yours, but I miss reading your words, and I miss writing my own.

So, here I am, writing you the day before our second date, so nervous and excited I might just throw up. Because we can do it now, you know? We can do all the things we’ve talked about (and more). I’m excited to do them with you.

If the date goes well, I want you to put this under your pillow, hold my face in your mind, and dream of me.

Hopefully Yours, Hopefully Always,

Steve

P.S. I know you can just put them in my locker now, but maybe put this one in The Return of the King? Just this once, for me?

“How is it?” Steve asks when she’s been staring down at the words on the page for probably too long. “Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect,” she says, grinning when his entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “And so are you.”

***

“They’re not coming to lunch,” Jeff says as he settles onto the bench at their usual table, a slab of lasagna already somehow congealing on his tray.

“Are they okay?” Eddie asks, dropping his own fork to try to glean any worry on Jeff’s own face.

“Steve was definitely excited when he dragged Chrissy off,” Jeff replies, shrugging. Before Eddie can even spit out his follow-up question, Jeff continues, “no idea what they’re doing, though,” and he closes his mouth.

“I know,” Robin calls from down the table, voice all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie turns to glare at her, but she just keeps grinning around her sandwich, Vickie looking equally lost at her side.

“Are you going to enlighten the rest of the class,” Eddie asks, gesturing to the rest of the table despite clearly being the only one who gives a shit.

Robin grins wider and replies, “it’s a secret,” tauntingly like she knows somehow that word is his ultimate trigger.

Eddie whines, but no one pays him any mind. Even more cruelly, he doesn’t see Steve for the rest of the school day, leaving him flushed and flustered as he rushes home to get ready for their date.

Unfortunately, it’s Wayne’s day off, so he’s there to heckle Eddie as he changes his outfit enough times to leave his hair a frizzy mop on the top of his head.

“You dressin’ for a date or to be the janitor’s new mop?” Wayne asks, laughing as Eddie rushes past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

Unfortunately, Wayne’s right, so Eddie runs a damp brush through his hair, trying to make the frizziness merge back with the rest of his hair. When it doesn’t really work, Eddie folds his hair into a bun and elects not to look at himself in the mirror again.

With ten minutes to spare, Eddie moves his frantic pacing for the living room, walking back and forth in front of Wayne, fingers gyrating as he tries to keep them from further ruining his hair.

“You really wearing that?” Wayne asks, long since having given up on trying to watch the TV, Eddie’s body too much of a moving obstacle to crane his neck around.

Eddie stops and stares down at his outfit. “What’s wrong with this?”

It’s a more put together version of his usual style: his only pair of black jeans that haven’t gotten any holes yet, clunky boots, still adequately polished from his last date with Steve, a plain black t-shirt, fingers full of rings except the one he keeps bare, the ring still on Steve’s own finger.

“You know what I mean, boy,” Wayne sighs, looking him up and down with so much judgment that Eddie wants to shrivel up and die. “Ain’t the jacket a bit much?”

Eddie fondles the green and white cuff of the jacket’s sleeve. He does a little spin, like a dog chasing its own tail, trying to get a look at the way it hangs on his frame.

Wayne’s right—it looks almost incongruous on him, clashing absurdly with the rest of his outfit, but it’s got Steve’s name on its back, and a small, shivery part of Eddie likes that. Jock courting rituals are absurd, but there’s maybe something to this one.

Maybe Steve will like it, too—his name on Eddie’s back.

“Is it too much?” Eddie asks, voice taking on that higher pitch that only dogs can hear. He turns to Wayne, panicky and desperate. “Do you think it’s coming on too strong?”

Wayne’s mouth twists up all sardonic and wry as he snorts and replies, “that boy’s been writing you love notes for months. There ain’t no such thing as too strong, for a thing like that.”

Eddie feels his cheeks warm. He breaks eye contact, looking down the floor as he scuffs the toe of his boot against the carpet bashfully.

Before he can voice any of the self-conscious bullshit kicking around in his head, there’s a knock at the door. Eddie snaps his head up and freezes, staring with mounting hysteria at the closed front door until there’s a second knock and he snaps back to life.

“Oh my god, places everybody!” Eddie cries, clutching at his head in panic, undoing all the work he’d done on his hair in one fell swoop.

“I ain’t moving,” Wayne says from the chair.

Eddie rushes past him, skidding to a halt in front of the door. He wastes precious seconds taking a few deep breaths before he swings the door open, fake smile plastered on his face. It melts into something excited and real when he catches sight of Steve.

Steve, who’s wearing the leather jacket Chrissy still hasn't returned. Steve, who’s fiddling with the lapels and blushing self-consciously until he catches sight of Eddie’s own attire and bursts out laughing.

“Great minds think alike, huh Harrington?” Eddie asks, smiling down at him.

While on Eddie, the aesthetic mismatch looks bizarre, Steve’s light-wash jeans and green polo somehow only enhance the effect of Eddie’s oversized leather jacket.

“It’s The Return of the King,” Eddie says, looking up and down Steve’s body, smirking before catching sight of his befuddled face. “We’ve really gotta get you up to date on Tolkien.”

“Oh, the hobbit books?” Steve asks, smiling brightly. “I just started the first one. Bilbo’s a pretty cool dude.”

Eddie takes a shuddering breath, heart kicking up a notch. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Eddie replies in a hushed tone. Steve Harrington is reading The Hobbit. This fact somehow has him feeling more faint than seeing him in Eddie’s own jacket. He clears his throat, face hot, heartbeat rapid. “Should—should we go?”

His voice squeaks awkwardly, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He just beams up at Eddie and takes two graceful steps back off the front stoop, holding his arm out to gesture Eddie over the threshold of his own trailer.

Eddie slams the door, muffling Wayne’s embarrassing call of, “have him home by ten!” just in time.

He skips down the steps and latches onto Steve’s held out arm, letting Steve lead him toward his car like a gentleman.

“You know, I think Chrissy and Jeff had some sort of weird sex thing with this jacket?” Eddie asks, shaking his arm demonstratively.

“Yeah, Chrissy told me.”

"Seriously?" Eddie squawks, stopping suddenly enough that he kicks up gravel beneath his boots.

"No, you idiot,” Steve says, laughing at him even as he stops beside him, still holding onto Eddie’s arm.

“Oh, good because—”

“Jeff did.”

Eddie sputters, eyes wide until he turns and sees Steve’s shit-stirring grin. “You’re the worst,” he says, pouting as Steve just starts laughing again. “Why do I even like you?”

That has Steve’s ears turning pink, and his eyes averting to look toward his car, seeming almost shy. “Well,” he starts before cutting himself off when his voice comes out strangely high. He clears his throat and continues, “shall we?”

Steve gestures toward his parked car with his free hand because return of The King or not, this guy’s somehow, inexplicably, a nerd.

Eddie wants to kiss him about it, but they’re in public, already toeing the line of what’s acceptable in polite society, so all he does is squeeze Steve’s arm where it’s still wrapped around his and reply, “we shall.”

There will be time for kisses later—time for all of the things Eddie’s finding he wants to do with Steve Harrington.

They’ve got nothing but time.

The End

If you've read this far, thank you so much! Especially if you've like, reblogged, or commented. It all means so much to me, and I appreciate every single one of you.

This could have gone on for another 50k, I'm sure, but this feels like the right ending to me. It's not a story about Being Together, it's a story about Finding Each Other, and they've both done that, with Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and now with each other <3<3<3

Now, one final shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for both being the best beta a guy can ask for, and to be the one who came up with this idea at all. It literally couldn't exist without you, and I appreciate you so much <3<3<3

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic

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dear-ao3 · 1 year ago

Note

Sorry i tried to scroll past but, i know nothing about f1 other than max verstappen is fast, my dad doesnt like lewis hamilton, fast car goes in a loop and sometimes expodes. Could you give me a crash course in f1 drama? Im very intrigued. Whats the tea as it were?

a terribly loaded question, but i will do my best. i’ve talked about some of the drama before like the red bull second seat and the chronicles of haas but allow me to briefly try my hand at explaining the nightmare that is the upcoming silly season

under the cut we go

silly season is when the drivers go through contract renewals, extensions and switches. usually it’s confined to the first half of the season (march-july) but it has been known to extend all the way to the last race of the season and they like to switch people around at random sometimes. driver contracts are complex, there’s a lot of money involved and basically You Are The Face Of The Team so if you have a shit season then you make the team look bad. but at the same time you could have a shit season because you have a shit car. it’s sticky stuff.

so. there are only twenty seats in formula 1. 10 teams. each team gets two drivers. (there’s also reserve drivers but we’re not going to get into that). who ends up with a contract is largely up to the teams, they can pull the contract out from under people they can also cut you mid season. they’ve done it before.

of the 20 drivers on the grid, 14 of them have contracts expiring at the end of the year. yes. 14. you see how this could get complicated.

so let’s meet the teams.

red bull racing. they came first this year (and last year) in the championship. like aggressively first. like they won the championship by over 350 points. they are definitely the team to beat. but if you end up with a seat at red bull, you do have to deal with max verstappen being your teammate and he won all but three of the races last year. he’s the golden boy. red bull are also notoriously silly when it comes to contracts and famously swap people mid season who aren’t performing.

mercedes. merc is home to 7 time world champion lewis hamilton and they have won the championship a great many times, though not since 2021. they are kind of in their flop arc and their car the last 2 years has been pretty garbage, but they have still made it work because they were able to come in second last year.

ferrari. god help the poor little meow meows with a ferrari contract. ferrari is a notoriously great team and they’re trying to get back to the top again but their strategy every single time has fallen short. to the point where their drivers are the ones doing the strategy in their cars while driving. they came in third last year and have been decently consistent at getting first in qualifying and then getting beat by max verstappen on race day.

mclaren. they’ve definitely worked their way up over recent years. they ended fourth last year and have had some championship wins before but not nearly as many as say merc and ferrari. their team ceo (owner? director?) is a little interesting and their car started out a pile of flaming hot garbage at the beginning of the year but they did manage to get their shit together.

aston martin. they are owned by canadian billionaire lawrence stroll, father of lance stroll (one of the drivers for the team). they’ve undergone several name changes over the recent years (force india, racing point, etc). they positively slayed at the start of the season and then one day they sucked. they finished fifth in the championship.

alpine. the frenchest french team. they’re (i think?) still partially owned by the french government. both of their drivers are french. (their drivers also hate eachother but we’ll get to that. just know they’re in the middle of a modern french civil war). they had the opportunity to have a good rookie driver (oscar piastri) this past year but in a thrilling twitter battle, he publically flamed the shit out of them and went to mclaren instead (and slayed). they're usually solidly middle of the pack. they ended sixth in the championship.

williams. williams has been one of the back of the grid teams for the last many years but they have finally started to get their shit together and don’t quite suck as much as they used to. all of the points this year were scored by only one driver though (except one but we’ll get there). they came in seventh.

alpha tauri. they are the sister team of red bull. so technically redbull owns both teams (meaning they can swap drivers between teams. they like doing this.) they’ve just kind of been There for awhile but they did slay towards the end of the season when one of their drivers led the race for several laps. basically tho, this team is the gateway to redbull. they came in eighth.

alpha romeo. recently renamed to stake f1 team (but sometimes they are going to be called kick sauber. this is a whole other drama post and i’m not getting into it). they’re also just kind of there. generally unproblematic. seems that really great drivers who get ixed out of a contract for a younger driver end up here or young drivers who are in their early years are here before they go to a better team. they ended ninth this year.

haas. oh haas. goofy team. they suck. point blank they suck. they keep loosing sponsors because they suck, they don’t win ever (one time they came first in qualifying last year). they cursed themselves in australia in 2018 by not tightening their tires and its been downhill ever since. they came 10th. their team principle got let go (fired?) who’s to say today.

so those are the teams. it is important to note that:

-there is a cost cap. each team is allowed to spend no more than 135m per year.

-not all cars are equal. some things are standard. they all undergo the same testing. but the cars are all very different. so you can be a good driver but stuck in a shitty car. which makes it impressive if you are doing well in a shitty car.

let’s meet our drivers!!!

starting with the guys who’s contract is not ending in 2024:

max verstappen. 3 time world champion. 26 years old. general beast on the track. he dominated the whole season. he’s currently racing for red bull and has a contract with them through 2028.

lewis hamilton. 7 time world champion. 39 years old. he drives for mercedes. he will not leave mercedes until he retires. he really really wants to win an 8th world championship and is willing to stick it out a few more years as long as merc still believes in him. his contract expires in 2025.

george russell. the other merc driver. 26 years old. hes aggressively british and says thinks like blimey unironically. walking meme. got his merc seat in 2022 right when they entered their flop arc by getting his tractor of a williams to finish second in qualifying in the middle of a rainstorm. his contract expires in 2025.

lando norris. mclaren driver. 24 years old. he has notably never won a race in his five years of formula one (mostly because right when his car finally was good enough max verstappen was 20 seconds ahead of anyone) but he is regarded as Very Good. he has only ever driven for mclaren. and even though there is another year left on his contract there is mass speculation that he will not renew his contract with mclaren after it expires and he may move up to one of the top teams (red bull, merc, ferrari) (tho i think he doesnt hate himself quite enough to go to ferrari). his contract expires in 2025.

oscar piastri. the other mclaren driver. 22 years old. this was his rookie season and he positively slayed. like people compared his rookie season to lewis hamiltons rookie season. he also had the positively funniest start to his rookie year because alpine announced that he would be driving for them (he had been their reserve driver and in the alpine academy) and he posted a tweet that basically said yeah thats false i never singed anything with you and im going to race with mclaren instead (he dodged a bullet) and then alpine tried and failed to sue him for $4m USD. he signed a contract extension with mclaren this year and his contract expires in 2026.

lance stroll. aston martin driver and son of the aston martin owner. hes doing ok, tho there was conspiracy that he wanted to quit and have a tennis career awhile ago. but basically since his dad owns the team it seems that hes guaranteed a seat for as long as he wants one.

so now. moving onto the good shit. the people who have contracts expiring in 2024. hold onto your hats people.

charles leclerc. (everyones favorite slutty little soup can). 26 years old. he is currently at ferrari and he has been since 2019. notably, he was given the longest contract in the history of ferrari after a stellar rookie season at sauber (renamed to alpha romeo, renamed to stake f1) where he got the tractor of a car consistently into the points. having the longest contract in the history of ferrari was a flex at the time, but now its likely how he will introduce himself at therapy sessions. ferrari have fucked this man left right and center up the ass with a plastic lunchroom spork. hes talented, he can drive, and he can drive well. but the strategy that ferrari has absolutely sucks. either something is wrong with the car (see him blowing out his gear box on the formation lap in monaco, his car completely crapping out and spinning into the barrier in brazil before the race even started) or they fuck up his pit stops or put him on the wrong tires and honestly its just frustrating. but will he leave??? likely not. you'd have to pry ferrari out of his cold dead hands and at this rate that might be where this is headed though there has been some minor speculation of him going to another team like merc or red bull, but merc doesnt have any open seats and red bull is a whole other dumpster fire of drama. ferrari are going to have to pay him a boatload of money to make him stay.

carlos sainz. the smooth operator. 29 years old. ferrari driver. previously carlos was at toro rosso (renamed to alpha tauri), renault (renamed to alpine), and mclaren before signing with ferrari. he has been at ferrari since 2021 and has voiced that he would like to stay with them for however long he can. there is speculation that lando might replace him at ferrari (but landos contract is not up until 2025) and there is also some speculation that alex albon might replace him. while charles is clearly the golden boy at ferrari, carlos is slightly slower but also definitely consistent. he was THE ONLY non red bull driver to win a race this past year, in Singapore after max verstappedn was knocked out of qualifying by alpha tauri reserve driver liam lawson (more on him later) and because he basically came up with his own strategy in the car while he was driving.

sergio perez. aka checo. red bull driver. 33 years old. and oh boy here's where we open the can of worms. checo was previously at racing point (renamed aston martin) and it was very near the end of the 2020 (?) season and he was out of a contract. he had a bonkers race where he was knocked to the back of the grid and then overtook everyone and somehow ended up winning (there is more to that story but just trust me) and christian horner, red bull team principle, mr ginger spice and definite disney villain called him and said congrats sir you have a seat at red bull! well. fast forward. hes been causing problems. problems as in crashing a lot, generally not doing great and pissing the crap out of red bull. it is basically guaranteed at this point that he will not be getting a contract extension. there was actually talk this year of him losing his seat mid season to one of the alpha tauri drivers, because remember, red bull owns both teams and they can switch them whenever they want to (and they have!) but ultimately this did not happen. even though checo has a seat at red bull until the end of 2024, its mass speculated that he is going to get switched with an alpha tauri driver, probably daniel ricciardo (more on him shortly) mid season because there is a speculated clause in daniels contract that says that if checo isn't performing well in the first few races daniel is getting his seat.

daniel ricciardo. 34 years old. alpha tauri driver. man oh man what a guy. outside of being the prankster of the paddock, he has one of the most batshit careers of anyone currently on the grid. he started out at red bull and was showing real talent and skill and was on track to win things (and was!) and was there until the end of 2018 when max verstappen (his teammate) started getting preferential treatment and also red bull started having a lot of problems with their engines (which were being outsourced from Renault (now alpine) and another team on the grid) and well very very long story short he made the surprise move of the century and decided to sign with Renault (which makes no sense they're the one with the engine problems) and was there for 2 years before moving again to mclaren where he was reportedly not treated very well and had a hard time driving the car so they mutually ended his contract with them early and he basically retired at the end of the 2022 season and became a red bull reserve driver. then halfway through the 2023 season alpha tauri ixed one of their drivers, nyck de vries, because he wasnt doing well and promoted daniel back up to a full time driver at alpha tauri (which we know is only a step down from red bull) but then he broke his hand in a crash in zanvort (?) and then he was replaced for a few races by formula 2 driver liam lawson (who we will also talk about) and then he came back to finish out the season in alpha tauri after he was cleared. daniel has admitted openly that he never should have left red bull and he was given bad advice to do so. hes towards the end of his career at this point and its well known that he Really Really wants to finish out his career at red bull again. he and max have already been teammates before and they do work well together and daniel is great driver (see his comeback in texas (or maybe it was brazil?) this year). so. Pretty Sure that daniels going to get either an extension at alpha tauri or go up to red bull. thats what we all want. get this man in a red bull we need him there biblically.

liam lawson. now technically liam is not actually a formula 1 driver. hes a formula 2 driver, but he was daniels replacement for five races and there has been some speculation and some confirmed news about him so hes getting included. when he was racing for f1 he was at alpha tauri. hes 21 and looks like he belongs in the movie grease. no one was expecting him to slay in formula 1 and he positively knocked everyones socks off. the scene: Singapore. which, if you'll recall, is the one race that a not red bull driver won. this was largely because liam lawson slayed the absolute game in qualifying. the qualifying part of racing determines what order the cars start in on the grid for the race and theres three parts, the first two parts the bottom 5 drivers each time get knocked out and then the top 10 complete for the last 10 spots. liam lawson knocked BOTH max verstappen and checo perez out of qualifying in the second round by going very slightly faster than them, effectively fucking up red bulls race and allowing carlos to win. and he also scored points in that race, which no one was expecting. now thats all fine and dandy, but here's the speculation: hemlut marko (im pretty sure) (who is somehow decently involved in the decision making at red bull though i couldn't tell you how) said that he thinks that liam lawson will be in an f1 seat no later than 2025. meaning that he will probably get offered a contract this year. and hes already raced for alpha tauri. red bull have sunk a good amount of money into him. they clearly want him. so if he gets offered an alpha tauri seat in 2025, that means theres a good chance danny rics is going to red bull. do you SEE how the plot here is THICKENED

yuki tsunoda. age 23. currently at alpha tauri. and fun fact, the only alpha tauri driver to race there the whole year. he had three separate team mates. he is slaying and hes often slept on. he has a bit of a temper and likes to shout on the radio and also hates working out (they had to force him to move to italy or something to work out, long story) but hes been kinda killing it. he led several laps in the abu dhabi race this year and hes decently consistent. people think theres possibility that he could get moved up to red bull on account of the fact that he is younger than daniel and clearly has more years in him,, but there is also possibility that he might not because red bull like to make stupid decisions. and if he doesnt get moved up to rebel, will he stay with alpha tauri? we don't know.

alex albon. age 27. currently a williams driver. alex albon is another one with a batshit career. he started out his rookie year in 2019 at alpha tauri then got moved up to red bull halfway through the year when red bull decided that pierre gasley wasnt doing a good enough job (more on him later) and stayed with red bull for a solid year and a half until he lost his seat in 2021 to checo. he has been with williams for the last two years and is basically carrying the team. like. williams as a team scored 28 points this year. and alex albon scored 27 of those 28 points. and as we know, williams is still kind of in their shit arc (though they are doing much better. they didnt score any points for a solid 2 (?) years. so this is an improvement.) and if you can get a shit car to perform you catch the eye of bigger teams. now, alex has already been a red bull driver. and he was on the cusp of podiuming two separate times when lewis hamilton ran into him. this (among a few other things) basically killed his chances at getting resigned at red bull because he wasnt ""performing"" and red bull are bitches who love to win. but some people think that red bull should give him another shot. like daniel, hes already been max's teammate and he can definitely drive. but theres also talk he might go to ferrari because ferrari think that he might compliment charles's driving style (or something). but going to ferrari at this point is kind of suicide. so.

logan sergeant. age 23. the only american on the grid. the other williams driver. he just finished his rookie year. he scored a grand total of one single point this season, in texas, and it was because charles leclerc and lewis hamilton both got disqualified because the floor of their car had more wear (by literally less than millimeters) than it was allowed to, bumping him up from 12th to 10th. he has never done better than alex albon. he was also the very last driver to get a contract for 2024, with williams waiting until i think december of 2023 to announce his contract extension. clearly, hes on thin ice. but people have also said that he needs time to get used to formula 1 (other people have pointed out that oscar piastri slayed his rookie season this year and this statement about needing time is largely false). where logan ends up next year though will largely depend on how well the 2024 season goes for him.

fernando alonso. 42 years old. many people like to point out that oscar piastri is actually younger than fernando's racing career. he won tiktok creator of the year (somehow) and is also a 2 time world champion. he retired a few years ago, just to show back up again and slay. during the first half of the season when aston martin had a zoom zoom car he killed it, and then they had problems on top of problems and he didnt do well. except for that one race in brazil where he came in third, beating checo by literally .05 seconds. he hasn't really made any hints about retiring a second time and he is kind of carrying aston Martin right now (he scored 205 points this season, coming in 4th and tying in points with charles leclerc, lance stroll only scored 74 points this year.) and they did have their best year yet this year. (though they are relatively new).

pierre gasley. 27 years old. french. drives for alpine. the french team. previously he raced with toro rosso (now alpha tauri), then got promoted to a red bull driver in 2019, then halfway through the season they decided he wasnt doing a good enough job and he got demoted back down to alpha tauri. then he won a race with alpha tauri just to stick it to red bull. after the great oscar piastri contract twitter war, he was signed as alpines second driver, with Esteban ocon being the other driver (more on him soon). estie bestie and pierre (both french) were childhood friends and now hate each other for unknown reasons and basically feuded on the track for most of the season. french civil war at alpine. he scored 62 points in 2023 and came in 11th. not really sure where he will end up, it is possible that he will stick it out at alpine.

esteban ocon. 27 years old. also french. currently driving for alpine. another one with a silly bonkers career. he started out at force india and had a baller few seasons there but his teammate at the time was checo, and checo didnt really cooperate with him too much and caused some drama that cost estie bestie some places and some points. max verstappen also beat him up in the garage once. thats not really relevant but it did happen. anyway, after the owner of force india was arrested for .... i don't remember what maybe it was embezzlement or bankruptcy or something money related, the team was backed by lawrence stroll and became racing point. but all of that happened mid season and lawrence was basically like look ill back you guys for now but next year my son gets a seat (lance) so one of you two (checo and estie bestie) have to go. and ultimately they let estie bestie go even though he was more consistent because checo had more sponsors and they needed money. so he was out of formula 1 for a few years (but was a merc reserve driver) and then went to Renault, which then became alpine. he did come in 12th though overall this season, just behind pierre. so. will alpine keep both him and pierre and keep the civil war going? whos to say.

nico hulkenberg. 36 years old. haas driver. in his 200+ f1 races he has never been on the podium and he really really wants to be on the podium. unfortunately this will never happen in a haas because haas fucking sucks. and everyone knows it. he is getting towards the end of his career though. though! stake f1 will become the mario Andretti and audi team in 2026 (don't question it) and they have supposedly voiced interest in nico. so we will see if he hangs on that long to end up at audi. for now tough, hes definitely hating it at haas. though, haas are going to have a different team principle next year so maybe that will change things. i have a sneaky feeling through that haas will probably end up with another 2 rookie drivers because everyone else is smart enough to not race for them.

kevin magnussen. 31 years old. haas driver. hes another deeply interesting character. he has had one podium. in his rookie season. in his first race. and none since. kevin started at haas in 2017 and then left at then end of 2020 when he basically got kicked off because the team needed money and they wanted to bring in drivers with more sponsorships. these drivers were mick schumacher and nikita mazepin. so kevin basically was forced to retire after the 2020 season. this went decently well for haas. until russia invaded ukraine right before the start of the 2022 season and, well, nikita was Russian and it was never distinctly proven that his dads company (who was sponsoring the team) wasnt also funding the invasion. so nikita got fired and they were literally like 2 weeks out from the start of the season, down a driver. who are you gonna call? kevin magnussen! and hes been back ever since. but hes clearly getting annoyed with haas. there was one great clip from this year where his car caught on fire and he kind of just stared into to, clearly hoping it would burn for a long time. so the likelihood of him extending his contract is looking slim.

valtteri bottas. 34 years old. currently a driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo, kick sauber, whatever you wanna call it). previously, he was a mercedes driver and notoriously helped lewis hamilton win a great many championships, until he lost his seat to george russell in 2022. there was a rather awkward part of the 2021 season where valtteri knew that he was out of a merc seat the following year and kind of just chose violence. he slayed. then he went to alpha romeo, grew a mullet and made a calendar of his ass. quite the glow up if you ask me. hes also very interested in cycling. honestly though, i have my own personal speculation that hes going to retire at the end of this year.

zhou guanyu. 24 years old. driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo/kick sauber, etc etc). hes doing alright. he just finished his second season, in his first season he was majorly out qualified by valtteri but this past season he managed to out qualify him a good 6 times. which is decently good for the tractor of a car hes driving. its possible that he could get a contract extension, but like logan, its probably going to depend on how the 2024 season goes for him.

and thats all the drivers. theres also a few others i didnt talk about, like some other f2 drivers who want seats and mick schumacher, who is currently a merc reserve driver, all of which could be contenders for f1 seats. but one things for sure. this is going to be the silliest fucking silly season.

feel free to add on and peer review me

#not a tag #from saph #f1 #:)#silly season #my beloved!

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batboyblog · 4 months ago

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Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #35

Sep 20-27 2024

President Biden and Vice-President Harris announced new actions to curb gun violence at the one year anniversary of the White House Office of Gun Violence Prevention. The Office is the first ever White House office to deal with the issue of guns and has been overseen by the Vice-President. President Biden signed a new Executive Order aimed at combatting the emerging threat of machinegun conversion devices. These devices allow the conversion of semi-automatic firearms to a rate of fire that can match military machineguns, up to 20 bullets in one second. The EO also targets the threat of 3-D printed guns. The EO also addresses active schooler drills at schools. While almost every school conducts them there is little uniformity in how they are carried out, and no consensus on the most effective version of a drill. President Biden's EO directions the development of a research based active shooter drills, which maximize both student physical and mental safety.

President Biden celebrated the one year anniversary of the American Climate Corps and announced new Climate Corp programs. The Climate Corps has seen 15,000 young people connected to well paid jobs in clean energy and climate resilience jobs across America. The EPA and AmeriCorps announced a new Environmental Justice Climate Corps program which will connect 250 American Climate Corps members with local communities and over the next 3 help them achieve environmental justice projects. In addition HUD announced it will be the 8th federal agency to partner with the Climate Corp, opening the door to its involvement in Housing. Since its launch the American Climate Corp has inspired 14 states to launch their own state level version of the program, most recently just this week the New Jersey Climate Corps.

The Biden-Harris Administration announced that 4.2 million small business owners and self-employed people get their health insurance through the ACA marketplace. Up from 1.4 million ten years ago when President Obama and then Vice-President Biden rolled out the marketplaces. The self-employed are 3 times as likely as other Americans to use the marketplaces for their insurance, one out of every 5 getting coverage there. The ACA passed by President Obama, defended and expanded by President Biden, has freed millions of Americans to start their own businesses without fear of losing health coverage for them and their families.

The Departments of Transportation and Labor pressed freight railroad companies to close the gap and offer paid sick time to all their employees. Since 2022 under President Biden's leadership the number of Class I freight railroad employees who have access to paid sick days increased from 5% to 90%. Now the Biden-Harris Administration is pushing to finish the job and get coverage to the last 10%.

The EPA announced $965 million to help school districts buy clean energy buses. This comes on top of the 3 billion the EPA has already spent to bring clean energy buses to America's schools. So far the EPA has helped replace 8,700 school buses, across 1,300 school districts in all 50 states, DC, tribal nations, and US Territories. 95% of these buses are zero-emission, battery-electric. The clean bus program is responsible for over 2/3rds of the electric school buses on the road today.

The Biden-Harris Administration took another step forward in its historic efforts to protect the Colorado River System by signing 5 water conservation agreements with local water authorities in California and Arizona. The two short term agreements will conserve over 717,000 acre-feet of water by 2026. Collectively adding 10 feet to Lake Mead’s elevation by 2026. The Colorado River Basin provides water for more than 40 million people and fuels hydropower resources in seven U.S. states.

The Department of The Interior announced $254 million to help support local parks, the largest such investment in history. The money will go to 54 projects across 24 states hoping to redevelopment or create new parks.

HHS announced $1.5 billion to help combat opioid addiction and prevent opioid overdose deaths. The money will support state and tribal governments and help pay for mobile clinics, naloxone kits, and treatment centers. This comes as nationwide overdose rates drop for the first time since 2020, thanks to strong investment in harm reduction efforts by the Biden-Harris team.

The Department of Agriculture announced it'll spend $466.5 million in food assistance and development worldwide this year. Through its McGovern-Dole Program, the United States is the largest donor to global school feeding programs. The USDA will help feed 1.2 million children in Angola, Bangladesh, El Salvador, Ethiopia, Guatemala, Guinea-Bissau, Laos, Malawi and Rwanda. Through its Food for Progress the USDA will help support 200,000 farmers in Benin, Cambodia, Madagascar, Rwanda, Sri Lanka, Tanzania and Tunisia shift to climate-smart agriculture boosting food security in those nations and the wider region.

At a meeting at the UN First Lady Jill Biden announced a partnership between USAID and UNICEF to end childhood exposer to lead worldwide. Lead exposure kills 1.5 million people each year, mostly in the developing world.

The Senate approved the appointment of Byron Conway to a federal judgeship in Wisconsin. This makes the 213th federal judge that President Biden has appointed.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Kamala Harris #climate change #gun violence #gun control #health insurance #food aid #opiod crisis #electric vehicles #politics #US politics #american politics #good news

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snoopychris · 10 days ago

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mermaid!reader and coastal grandson!chris' first meeting...

for as long as he could remember, chris and his brothers visited his grandparents at the beach every year. they always stayed for at least 3 weeks, and they never stayed for more than a month and a half. he wishes he could stay all year. he was always more attached to his grandmother than he was to his parents. it was an unusual connection simply due to the old lady being the exact opposite of chris. chris was quiet but confident. his grandmother, lisa, was loud but scared.

he was always more attached to the beach house than his brothers were. he looked forward to the trip every year. even after his accident he could never wait to go to the beach. the florida keys were home to him. more home to him than boston could ever be. matt and nick ridiculed him for it sometimes, but he truly didn’t care. he waited patiently. every single day.

from a very young age, chris knew. he knew from the first time he visited the age and could comprehend what was going on around him that he’d be a marine biologist. when they were 14, matt nick and chris found a nest of sea turtles. chris refused to leave until they were all safe. his brothers didn’t speak to him for a week because of how long it took.

this trip to the florida keys was different. it was the first trip to the place without their grandfather. and this time chris would get to stay. his transfer to the college of the florida keys had finally gone through and he actually got to stay with his grandmother until he finished school. the only downside was that his brothers had to stay with him during his first semester while he settled in.

his first week back was just… fine. in reality it was no different than what he usually experienced in the keys, but this time had such a unique feeling to it. he didn’t even know how to begin to describe it. he had been home a lot more than he usually was. by this time in a normal trip he’d have been to the beach at least 5 or 6 times. part of chris thinks it’s just cause he has so much more time here this time around.

sitting in the room he was working on making his, completely, truly, utterly his, chris was pulled out of his thoughts when matt gently knocked on his door with two knuckles. “grandma gave me the keys to the bronco. nick and i are goin to the beach. y’comin?” matt asks, eyeing his younger brother up and down. matt knew that chris would be ready in less than 3 minutes after asking, but he also knew that after his accident he wouldn’t ever get into the ocean again. for some unknown reason, chris swallows slightly at the question. he had never been nervous about going to the beach. what was going on with him?

“yeah just lemme change… i’ll meet you outside.” chris replies, bolting towards his closet. he grabs a pair of lululemon swim trunks his mom had gotten him and slips them on, throwing on a random tank top to match. he grabs his pre-prepped beach bag and makes his way outside, both of his brothers already waiting for him by their grandfathers beloved car. chris tosses his bag into the trunk and slides into the passenger seat, gripping onto the window sill. “which beach?” chris questions. the answer didn’t really matter to him. he wasn’t going swimming anyway.

“i… actually don’t know. i was just gonna drive.” matt replies, moving the car out of the long driveway and onto the road. chris shrugs in response and begins picking at his nails, his hair flying all over due to the wind. “y’goin swimming today?” matt mumbles even though he already knows the answer. he and nick both frown when chris shakes his head. they had worried about him for years. every time they thought it was getting better it somehow got worse. at least that’s what they gathered from the vague notes from chris’ psychiatry sessions.

the drive to the beach was longer than chris expected. the drove something around 30 minutes, only crazy because they were surrounded by sand and water. chris could settle in with a good book anywhere on the soft beige substance. whatever, he thought. upon parking, matt and nick sprinted towards the sparkling blue water. chris settled down next to the bags his brothers had tossed under a random beach umbrella. he lays back, tucking his arms under his head. he takes nicks towel and throws it over his face in order to block out the sun just a little bit more.

he’s never felt more at peace, even with the weird feeling in his gut. it only lasts a few minutes before he hears screaming coming from his left. the towel flies off of his eyes and he looks for the source of the disturbance, and instead of seeing his brothers doing something stupid the way he expected, he sees one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever laid eyes on. butterflies. this entire time he’s been feeling butterflies. his feet carry him over before he can even process what’s happening.

chris grunts when your hand meets his chest, accidentally pushing him down to the sand. “no, stop it’s a sea turtle nest. they’re hatching. don’t touch them.” you speak sternly, meeting eyes with him shortly after. chris quickly stands up and nods, looking around for a big leaf or something big enough to help the small creatures. you’re in a state of shock when you process what he’s doing. you hadn’t realized that you weren’t the only person on the beach that knew how to help the turtles. you send him a small smile and grab one of the leaves he found, guarding the animals as much as you could. if matt and nick weren’t swimming they’d give him the silent treatment again, but he lucked out this time.

chris glances up at you, noticing the way some of your hair sticks to your face despite the sea shell clips you have holding it back. “i’m chris.” he whispers, continuing the slow walk to the water. you look up at him and nod, licking your lips before speaking. “pearl.” you reply, smiling when the turtles make their way into the water. there’s a lot of small talk that comes naturally to chris on the journey. in the short time he learns that you’re from miami, that your dad owns a restaurant, and that your grandfather on your moms side was an olympic swimmer.

it doesn’t go unnoticed by chris that you stay far enough from the shoreline that your feet never even touch the wet sand. the moment that chris was cherishing ends quicker than he’d like when nick emerges from the water, standing next to his brother. nick sends you a sweet smile that makes you giggle. there was two of them? when matt exits the water and stands next to you, you panic a little. not because there was now three of them, but he was dripping. you scoot away from him subtly, another action that doesn’t go unnoticed by chris. “chris who’s your friend?” matt asks, his voice laced with flirtatious intent.

you smile over at the boy besides you, inching away from him again. the second a drop of water falls on you, there’s exactly 30 seconds for you to absolutely book it. you swallow anxiously as you eye the boy beside you, looking up to meet chris’ eyes. the same eyes that match the ocean. “i’ll see you soon, yeah?” you whisper, scrunching your face. chris sends you a nod, and as you begin to walk away you feel drops of water on your wrist. shit. 30…29…

“hey, maybe even i’ll see you again soon?” matt asks, raising an eyebrow at you. 26…25… you gulp but nod rapidly, searching around for some form of out. a big rock within running distance and an out to the ocean. 23… 22… you finally spot one and book it, finding relief when it looks like a maze of rocks. 12… 11… to an outsider, youre probably just a good hider or something. at least you hope. before you know it, your body is fully submerged in the water. the pastel yet fluorescent tail replaces your legs, and the matching top replaces the crop top you were previously wearing. you sigh to yourself but stay in place. nobody’s around anyway.

when chris spots your seashell clip on the floor, he just knows he’s going to use it as an excuse to chase after you before matt does. he grips onto it swiftly and runs in the direction you just headed in, being met with nothing but confusion when you’re suddenly gone. you heard him running towards you just a few seconds ago and tucked behind one of the big rocks, hoping you were hidden enough. chris sighs as he throws the barrette on the ground, regretfully picking it up after a few seconds. you take the opportunity to duck under the water and swim away, scrunching your face in worry when your tail splashes louder than intended. chris looks up to find the source of the splash, seeing only the tip of your fins. dolphins? no. not this close to shore. he’s so intrigued that he’s just about to follow behind, daring so much as to swim. nick clearing his throat brings him back to reality, and he turns to his brothers. “what’d you see, kid?” nick asks, intrigued in his youngest brothers sudden interest in swimming. chris shrugs as he steps out of the few inches of water he was in, still gripping onto your hair accessory.

“you guys believe in mermaids?” chris mumbles, knowing the teasing about to ensue. matt laughs and shakes his head, patting his brothers back. “mermaids? you’re full of jokes, bud.”

a/n: i finally finally have my puter back! i hope you guys enjoy this au as much as i do. mermaids have always been something im drawn to. kiss kiss! -gen

dividers by @13hoax!!!

tags(reply or message to be added): @throatgoat4u @sturns-mermaid @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @freshhhloveee @courta13 @cockettechris

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡ chris!#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo series #chris sturniolo series #⋆˙⟡cgs!chris #⋆˙⟡snoopychris writes

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tune-on-in-folks · 3 months ago

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Day 14! Two weeks, that's insane to me. I'm proud of myself for making it this far, and I hope to finish continue this streak. This is another story I had to force myself to stop editing. I keep on going back in and rewriting things over and over. So I'm posting it to keep myself from doing so any longer. Enjoy a Vox x Reader!

Tags/Warnings: Assistant!Reader, P in V sex, creampie, breeding, mention of breeding, fem!Reader, fem!receiving multiple orgasms, smut, blue screening, in-universe body mechanisms, sinners unable to reproduce. Word Count: 1,231

You were Vox’s personal assistant, and more often than not you found yourself in bed with your boss. It had started off as some casual flirting between the both of you. A playful back and forth. It had ended one day, with you bent over Vox’s desk as he fucked into you from behind. Since that fateful day, he started inviting you into his bed more often. You didn’t know how long this relationship with Vox would last, so you decided to enjoy it while you could.

Vox was laying beside you, kissing you softly while his hands rested at your waist. He rolled his hips against you, dragging his growing erection against your panties. At some point in your make-out session, your skirt had ridden up. Now it was bunched at your waist, allowing Vox easy access to you. He trails his lips from your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. A whine falls from your lips as you tilt your head to the side, allowing him access to your sensitive skin. He moves down your neck, alternating between love bites and gentle kisses. His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly.

“Hah- Vox.” You gasp, eyes fluttering as he begins to rub your clit in small circles.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, two fingers slipping inside your pussy. You moan, allowing him to thrust his tongue into your mouth. His fingers pump in and out of you steadily, the sounds of your arousal filling the air. He pulls back from the kiss, allowing you to breathe.

“You’re always so wet for me.” He purrs, “I barely have to touch you and look at you, already falling apart for me”

You roll your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers curl up against your g-spot. A ragged moan spills from your lips as Vox uses his free hand to shove up your shirt and bra- exposing your breasts to him. The cold air makes your nipples stiffen as he closes his warm mouth around one of the sensitive buds, sucking and nipping at it. You cry out, your body tensing as each of his touches brings you closer to your edge.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

His fingers quicken inside you, his thumb flicking your clit in time with each pump. Vox pinches your nipple roughly, which sends you tumbling off that edge. Your back arches, hips rolling down against his hand as you cum around his fingers. He continues moving until he feels your body relax. Withdrawing his fingers, Vox slots himself between your legs. He freed himself quickly, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance a moment later.

“Now for the real treat.” He smirked, sinking into you with one harsh thrust.

You cry out, your hands coming to grasp at his back as he sets a steady pace, his cock pistoning in and out of your wet heat with long thrusts. His bedroom filled with the wet slaps of your hips meeting over and over. His bed creaks underneath your combined weight, shaking with each thrust.

“Ff-uck!” Vox groans, his voice picking up feedback. “So fucking tight. You were made for me. Your cunt was made for me. Fucking tell me your cunt was made for me.”

His demand had your walls fluttering around his cock, arousal pooling in your gut.

“I-I’m yours.” You moan, gasping as his pace quickens. “I was made for you, Vox. Made to take your cock!”

“Damn right you were.” He growls, his hips snapping harshly against yours as he fucks you hard and fast. “You’re mine, mine to fuck, mine to breed.”

His words make you whimper, your walls fluttering around his cock more insistently as you steadily climb closer to another orgasm.

“Vox, please!” You gasp, rolling your hips down against his cock, meeting him thrust for thrust. “I need you.”

“You need me?” He prompts, “Is that all?”

“Need you to-ngh- I need you to fuck me.” You barely manage to gasp out, his thumb pressing against your clit roughly.

A cocky grin spreads across his face as he teases you, “I am fucking you, babydoll.”

You whine in frustration, snapping, “Fuck! I need you to cum inside me! I need you to fill me up, breed me! Knock me up!”

He chuckles, his hips stuttering, his breathing growing ragged. “There we go, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

Vox pushes your knees towards your chest, shifting you into a mating press. You cry out as he slips even deeper inside you, his cock kissing against your cervix with each thrust. His pace quickens, his balls slapping harshly against your ass.

“Vox, fuck, please.” You beg as the coil in your gut tightens. “I need you. I need you so much-”

“I know, doll.” He groans, “Fuck…I’m going to cum inside your tight cunt. Going to fill you up until you’re dripping with my seed.”

His words push you over the edge. You cry out, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. Your walls spasm around his cock, dragging him in deeper, squeezing him in a vice-like grip.

“Fuck!” Vox cries out, his hips stuttering as your release pulls him into his.

His screen crashes, a blue screen with white text sprawled across it replacing his face. The text read: “Vox.exe has crashed, if problem persists, please make sure all recent updates are installed. Crash code: Pussy_too_good.”

You giggle at the words, slowly coming down from your release, your cunt still pulsing around his cock. Vox’s breathing stabilizes, his face flickering back on after a moment.

“Fuck, doll.” He groans, letting your legs fall back to the bed as he slowly pulls from you. “You took me so well, took my cum so well.”

He watches his seed overflow from your pussy. Collecting what leaks from your used hole with his cock-head, he presses back inside you. He pushes his cum right back into your pussy, rocking his hips forward, slowly fucking his cum back inside you..

“A shame this won’t take.” He mutters, his cock hardening again. “I’d love to see you swell with our children.”

You ignore how his words cause your heart to skip a beat, reminding yourself that there was nothing more between you and Vox. You just happened to keep on ending up in his bed. Vox pulls you closer to him, rolling over onto his back. He drags you with him, chuckling as you whimper at the change of position. You were now on top of him, and yet, you still felt completely at his mercy. Vox continues to fuck up into you slowly, his touch soft and loving. And for a moment you allowed yourself to believe in that foolish hope.

“Vox,” You mummer, resting your head against his chest, wishing you could tell him how you felt about him. How you had fallen in love with him somewhere along the line.

“Mmn?” He acknowledges, thrusting up into you.

You lose your nerve and instead whisper, “I think I’m going to need you to breed me again.”

You press a kiss against his chest, cursing your cowardice as his cock twitched inside you.

He smirks, pulling you down into another searing kiss, “Gladly, doll.”

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phoward89 · 8 months ago

Text

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Coryo x Big Booty!Reader, Smut, p in v, creampie, cussing, breeding kink, Dom!Coriolanus

Coriolanus Snow has classic tastes when it comes to his life. He has a sophisticated image, so of course he wears gold rings on his hands; never silver. Full Windsor knots in his satin ties, custom 3-piece suits made with only the finest material, and fine dress shirts that have to be starched. He wears cufflinks and all of his shoes are floor shines with 3 or 4 inch heels (because Coriolanus' 6ft frame needs to be even more intimidating so he can tower over everyone that's beneath him). His taste in food is classic, but upscale as well.

And when it comes to women, well, his taste is classic when it comes to that as well. T&A does it for him.

Coriolanus Snow’s a tits and ass man. The bigger the better too. And when he started dating you, well his classic tastes were definitely filled.

You're, in his opinion, the whole package. To Coriolanus, you're so beautiful both inside and out. You have a personality that just pulls him in. You keep him engaged and on his toes with conversations. But your physical appearance is what attracted him to you in the first place. Your curves make his mouth water. Nice tits and a nice big ass, just what he likes.

And your big booty is something that he loves. Seriously, Coriolanus can't get enough of it. And watching you sitting at your vanity in nothing but a white bra and panty set, hair up in rollers while doing your makeup for the dinner he's taking you tonight as his plus one makes him grin. Your white lace edged panties cling to your big booty just right and the way your plump ass sits on your vanity bench has Coriolanus mentally swearing to have you fuck him in his favorite position tonight when you get home from the dinner the University’s hosting for the Political Science majors of the Senior Class of 14 ADD (After Dark Days).

“Are you wearing the pearl jewelry set I got you for your birthday, Peaches?” Coriolanus asks you, buttoning up his crisp white dress shirt as he stands by his dresser- which has jewelry box open with his various cuff links (including pearl ones) and his chunky gold rings in it.

“Yes, Coryo.” You nod. Lightly dabbing your blending sponge on your face, you tell your boyfriend, “I’m wearing them; thought they'd look nice with my dress.”

Your dress is a strappy white gown that's form fitting. A dress that's hanging up on the door of your side of the walkin closet.

“I thought they'd pair nicely with your dress as well, my darling.” Coriolanus remarks while grabbing his pearl cuff links from his jewelry box and putting them on. “How much longer til you're ready, Y/N?” Your boyfriend asks, walking into thw walkin closet to grab and put on his dark maroon and white stripe vest and its matching dark maroon dinner jacket.

“Not long; maybe 15-20 minutes.” You assure him as he finishes getting dressed.

Coriolanus loves how sweet your booty looks with your clothes hugging it just right. He's always smacking it or grabbing it- a result of loving that big booty of yours. Whether it's in the privacy of his penthouse, that he moved you into, or out in public. He doesn't care, he just wants to feel your perfectly peachy ass in his hands.

But when he grabs your ass in public it's sometimes embarrassing.

Like tonight, his large hand keeps sliding south off of the small of your back to rest right on your plump ass. An ass that he loves, that he thinks looks perfect in the white dress you're wearing tonight for the formal dinner he's attending with you as his plus one. But it's not appropriate in the pre-dinner party cocktail setting, so you have to keep dragging his hand up and off your ass.

Despite standing around and talking to various people (high ranking people might you add since everyone at this dinner whether they're a professor, student, or plus one is a somebody in Capitolite high society- your own boyfriend included) Coriolanus has no shame and keeps grabbing your ass. It's very annoying. You even give him a slight side-eyed look, silently telling him to stop it. But your boyfriend has not shame; Coriolanus just gives you a loving smirk only to slide his hand back down to grab your ass again.

“You're gonna be my good lil cowgirl tonight, Peaches.” Coriolanus whispers into your ear, his baritone dark and lustful, while giving your butt a light squeeze as his friend Festus Creed along with his longtime girlfriend Persephone Price head their way over to you and your future political star boyfriend.

And you knew what he meant by his remark. He wanted you to fuck him in reverse cowgirl tonight so he can oogle and smack your ass. Oh, how his whispered promise of the night’s future events had your panties dampening.

Damn him.

Now you're stuck with wet panties all throughout tonight's long drawn out dinner. That bastard. Coryo always knows how to get to you.

And he knows the longer you're stuck in wet panties for the more desperate you'll be to fuck yourself on his cock once you get out of those panties.

What Coriolanus loves more then anything in the world is to stare at your plump, perfect ass while you ride him reverse cowgirl when you're fucking. Yep, he loves to watch your ass jiggle as you take him deep while bouncing quickly on his cock. It's one of his favorite positions for you to fuck in.

“Fuck. Your ass is so fine, Peaches.” Coryo groans as you quickly ride him, pushing your body quickly up and down while facing the foot of the bed. You're gripping his thighs in your hands, your nails digging into the skin of his sinewy muscles, as your knees frame his hip bones. “Yea, that's it baby girl, make that big ass jiggle for your man.” The platinum blonde orders, his deep baritone thick and husky, as his icy eyes are glued to your large, sweet ass cheeks as they bounce up and down as your tight cunt quickly takes his large cock in and out, in and out at a pleasurable pace.

Looking over your shoulder at your disheveled boyfriend, you give him a sultry smile. “You never get tired of watching my big booty as I ride you, huh?”

“Oh, Peaches, I told you when we first got together that I'm a tits and ass man; that the bigger the better.” Your boyfriend smirks. Reaching a hand forward, he grabs your ass and groans, “Your ass is perfect and it's all mine.” Giving your ass a hard smack, that echoed throughout the room and mingled with the led wet sound of your pussy fucking Coryo's cock, the platinum blonde orders, “Tell me your ass belongs to me, Y/N. Say it, Peaches, or you're not cumming tonight.”

And you know he means it. If you don't tell your possessive and obsessive boyfriend what he wants to hear that he'll take over, fuck you til he cums, and will leave you high and dry. He's done it before early on on your relationship when you played stubborn and didn't summit to him. But you learned your lesson; now you summit even if you don't want to.

It's all just dirty bedroom talk, right?

Coryo doesn't actually think that your ass belongs to him, does he?

No.

No, he can't.

He can't be that possessive and obsessive towards you, can he?

No, it's just bedroom talk. Dirty talk that gets him off.

“My ass belongs to you and only you, Coryo.” You tell your boyfriend in a high pitch mewl as the tip of his cock bruises your cervix; sending shockwaves of pleasure up and down your spine.

“Goddamnit, I love your ass.” Coriolanus confesses, his tone tight and husky. Smacking your ass again, he orders, “Go on, fuck yourself fast and hard on my cock til we cum.”

Coryo didn't have to tell you twice.

You use the grip on his thighs as leverage, helping your upper body control your faster than lighting movements. Quickly, you impale yourself on your boyfriend's large cock- letting out whines and whimpers every time your special spongy spot deep inside of you gets hit just right by the large cock that's stretching your cunt open wide. Sweat rolls down your brow as mewls of pleasure escape your lips. With every move you make your pussy clenches; pushing you closer to your orgasm.

Coriolanus is loudly groaning out, “Fuck, baby.”, while watching your ass bounce up and down just right. His baby blues are blown black by lust and they're transfixed on your ass jiggling quickly. “Fuck, Peaches, I'm gonna cum soon.” Your boyfriend forewarns you of his upcoming orgasm. Grabbing your ass cheeks in each of his large hands, he uses his strength to slam you up and down his twitching cock at a punishing force.

“Coryo…I'm gonna cum.” You moan, nearly toppling over from the brute force of your boyfriend moving you to fuck his cock as if you're nothing more then his personal fuckdoll. The only reason you're not face first between your boyfriends spread eagle legs is because of the tight hold you have around his thighs- nails digging in so deeply that crimson’s trickling down the pale skin.

“Go on and cum, Peaches.” Coryo orders before groaning, “Cum so I can fill ya up with my seed; knock ya up.”

His husky words sends a jolt right to your aching cunt and suddenly you're cumming with a loud moan that's only one word: Coryo.

Coriolanus doesn't let you ride out your high gracefully. No. I stead, he slams you down even harder on his cock. His cum heavy balls begin to tighten up as he tells you, “You're gonna look so beautiful knocked up with my heir. Can't wait to see your tits and ass grow along with your belly swelling with our child.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your boyfriend curses before shooting a thick rope of his hot seed into your womb. Your name falls from his lips as he cums.

He pushes you forward, causes your butt to jiggle in his hands. Coryo smiles, his eyes shining with lazy lust, as he watches his cum slowly leak from your clenching, tight, abused hole like perfect pearls. Pulling you up to lay next to him, Coriolanus adjusts the two of you to cuddle so that his head rests on your tits while his hand holds your ass.

The two things on you that he absolutely loves; that attracted him to ask you out- causing him to fall obsessively, possessively, and madly in love with you.

Your tits and ass.

But if you ask him what he prefers on you, Coryo will honestly answer that he loves your large ass. Without a doubt, it's your big booty that really does it for him.

After all, he did give you the nickname Peaches because of his undying love for that big booty of yours. An ass that he thinks is the sweetest peach in all of Panem.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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revelboo · 5 days ago

Note

Last night I dreamed about you (not a strange dream)Basically, in my dream, you were famous to the point that all two stories here on Tumblr were physical books/available on Kindle. One day, on my birthday, I received a gift from my friend: The hardcover editions of "give up/give in" and "everything is alright". Man, what a good dream. The covers were SO BEAUTIFUL, glossy and probably the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Like, I woke up sad, because they were so perfect that I wanted them to be real. The last thing I remember doing in the dream was finishing reading both books on the same day because i was so excited!

Anyway, thanks for making me go crazy over Transformers again! I've been following you since the first 'chapters' of Everything is Alright (I think I found your account when you were releasing the 5th or 6th).

Hugs from a Brazilian fan 💗🇧🇷(And sorry for any words I may have misspelled. I'm not very confident about my English writing 🙂)

Haha nooo this stuff is just purely just my bored rambling nonsense. It’s not even beta read or edited really- it’s super rough. I’m glad you like it, though. I hadn’t been active in the fandom in ten years or so myself before I started writing these snippets.

Give Up/Give In Pt 14

Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• Landing, he waits for you to get clear before transforming so he can kneel and offer you his cupped hands. “Where are we?” You ask, settling yourself in his palm as he stands and walks up to the massive, hidden door recessed into the mountainside. And grimacing, he tries to think of a nice way to explain that he doesn’t trust Ghost. That he likes having his own place to recharge where he doesn’t have to constantly worry or look over his shoulder. Not even Optimus knows about this place and he can appreciate that his old friend also hasn’t pried, respecting his privacy. But letting himself in, he’s suddenly painfully aware of how empty the space is.

• “it’s just a place I can escape to for quiet,” he says, but there’s an edge to his tone that makes you think that’s not the whole answer. You don’t push, though, looking around. There’s a berth against a wall. A storage locker, and what might be a shower area in a corner, but it’s spartan and doesn’t really look like a place someone lives in. No photos, no mementos collected over the years. It’s not a home. “It’s not much, is it?” He asks as if reading your mind and you flinch, because what do you know about Cybertronians? Maybe uncluttered and empty is their design aesthetic.

• Wishes he can tell what you’re thinking as you look around. Do you find it lacking and lonely? It’s never mattered to him before, but now it does. Dorothy’s home is full of things. Odds and ends that humans tie memories to. What do you make of his hideaway without those human things? “It’s fine. You’re sure I’m not in the way here?” You ask, looking up at him and his spark warms that you’re worried about imposing on him. Just like you hadn’t wanted to impose on the Malto’s. Pulling the air mattress and blankets Dorothy had let him take from his subspace, he sets it up on a corner of his berth. The box of water and packaged MREs go beside it and he turns to find you watching him.

• “I like the company,” he says, nudging the box with a servo. Is he lonely recharging here alone instead of in the Ghost facility with the Autobots? He’s not given you a lot of details, but you get the impression he doesn’t trust Ghost and that Dorothy isn’t entirely sold on them either even though she works for them. Aware that you don’t have all the information, but okay with that for now since you don’t want to hound him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he adds, letting you avoid the real world a bit longer. To take the time to get yourself together.

• If you’re here, he can keep an optic on you. Live up to his promise. Knows you’ll want to leave him eventually and go back to your life, but he’s not about to make you until you’re ready. And until then, it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone that doesn’t only see the monster he’s trying to leave behind. “Thank you,” you say and he reaches out a servo, one corner of his mouth twitching when you lay a hand on it. Because your trust? It means everything and he wants to be worthy of it.

#transformers x reader #earthspark megatron #megatron x reader

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conchcronch · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober 2024: Day 14

WC: 4466

Summary: Not a whole lot of plot going on here. You’re Mihawk’s partner, but what happens when he finds out you’re a fan of his current business partner?

A/N: I swear I’m going to finish this!! My last one will either be a part 2 to this or to the cuckolding one, so if you have a preference let me know!!

You knew it was a very rare event that Mihawk would mentor someone, since it had only happened once before, so you understood how meaningful it was for him to offer you assistance with your defensive sword stance. His little touches, the tap of his finger against your tricep indicating to raise your arm just a bit, the hand on the small of your back hinting at you to arch your back more, and the way he covered your hands holding the hilt of your sword with his so you knew how tightly to hold it, everything he was doing made your head swim. When his hands grabbed your waist, bringing your weight from your front foot to your back, that was when you knew he knew exactly how his touches were affecting you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his hands lingering on the small amount of skin that was visible from your shirt riding up. “You’ve improved so much.” It was as though he were whispering the filthiest words into your ear, making you thankful for his hold on your waist as you were concerned your knees may give out.

“You know swords aren’t my forte.” You swallowed hard, a low chuckle was the only sign he had noticed.

“Come now, you’re quite good with swords. I can think of one in particular that you handle with great care and expertise.” Your whole face flushed and you were almost at a loss for words, but you didn’t want to give him the upper hand, searching your mind for a quick quip you could fire back at him, anything to hear his laugh again, but when his lips pressed to your neck your mind blanked. His hands moved from your waist and wrapped fully around you, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body was welcomed more than you had realized, a cool breeze blowing off the water and across the small courtyard that sat in the middle of his estate.

“I should have known you had a good reason not to be in our meeting room.” A voice boomed across the courtyard, startling you but not Mihawk who clearly had heard his partner’s approach. Mihawk’s grip around you didn’t waiver, keeping you tightly against him, only moving his lips from your neck so he was about to speak.

”You’re early” Irritation ebbing in his words, his thumb rubbing idol circles against your exposed hip.

”You’re late, been here for 10 minutes already.” It wasn’t like Mihawk to be late for anything so you knew he was likely irritated with himself more than Crocodile.

”Is the Clown here?”

“Didn’t tell him we were meeting, I didn’t feel like putting up with him.” You watched as Crocodile stood on one of the many balconies that overlooked the courtyard, taking his cigar out from between his teeth to blow a puff of smoke into the wind.

”Fine.” The swordsman sighed, his arms unwrapping themselves from your waist and his breath disappearing from your nape. “I’ll meet you inside.” He called up to the man, hoping his tone was enough of a message.

HIs unspoken demand for the man to leave them seemed to be conveyed, as the man above you laughed but stepped inside nonetheless. “Come, accompany me to the boardroom.” He held out his hand to you, quickly taking it as you both walked through the courtyard and inside where you left the practice sword just inside the door, fully intending to return outside later in the evening to continue practicing.

As the two of you walked through the halls you were quickly becoming more comfortable in, you saw a shift in Mihawk, not one that was new to you. When it was just the two of you, he was gentle, more willing to speak his mind on all matters, but whenever there was someone else on his grounds he would harden. You finally approached the double doors that were held open, the smell of cigar smoke as you drew near was an unusual smell in his estate but something about it was rather enticing. “Mihawk,” Your voice caused him to slow to a stop just before the doors, turning his attention to you, his eyes softening as they met yours. ”Could I meet him?” The swordsman’s eyebrows raised, as though he wasn’t able to control his surprise.

“Why?” You shrugged, looking down at your feet for the briefest of seconds before he pulled your chin up with a single bent finger.

“I-I, uh, I heard about him during everything with Impel Down, how he kinda’ tried to save Fire Fist Ace, and ever since then, I’ve kinda’ been interested in him.” You knew your face was bright red, and the subtle raise of Mihawk’s brow at you mentioning you were interested in him was enough to make you scramble more, possibly digging yourself an even deeper grave. “Not interested interested in him. More so, what he does. I like that he’s only really out for himself, l-like you are…” You wished you could have taken everything you just said back, but you could tell by the way the corners of his mouth quirked up he was almost amused. Whether said amusement came from your clear embarrassment or seeing a piece of you he hadn’t seen before, you were unsure.

“My my my, seems like you’re quite the fan. He let go of your chin so you could break the forced eye contact.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You tried but your defeated tone was enough to confirm his accusation.

“Should I be jealous?” Your head shot up, ready to list off all the reasons why he was the superior of the pair, but his gentle smile was enough to reassure you that he didn’t really mean it. “I suppose meeting my business associate isn’t an outlandish request.” His hands grabbed your waist, tugging you against him quick enough that a small surprised yip slipped from your lips. His lips were against the shell of your ear, his breath sending chills down your neck. “Just remember, my sweet, innocent little rabbit” His lips ghosted against your cartilage as he spoke “No matter what happens in that room, you’re mine.” And as though he hadn’t been flush against you a half second ago, he was leading you into the board room, hand on the small of your back guiding you as though this were your first time in here.

And there he sat, at the head of the table on the far end of the room, lit fireplace behind him, causing a warm dancing light over his features. His fur coat was draped over the chair to his left, pages of legal jargon clenched between his ringed fingers, his cigar clenched between his teeth and his lavender eyes on you the instant you were in view. “‘Bout time, Hawkeyes.”

“You have my deepest apologies, we lost track of time.” Mihawk guided you around the table, it wasn’t until you were approaching Crocodile that you realized just how much he towered over your slight partner. ”Crocodile,” He nudged you forward “this is my partner” The larger man dropped the pages on the table, quickly reaching his seemingly massive hand towards you, urging you to put yours in it.

“To think I’ve been here how many times, and this is the first time I’m getting the pleasure of laying eyes on you.” He pulled your hand to his lips, his purple eyes never leaving your expression, except only to briefly glance down at your slightly exposed cleavage. “Does he keep you locked up when I’m around, pretty girl?” You were ashamed of the way your core throbbed at his newfound nickname for you, your lips parting as you tried to come up with the appropriate response to that, but instead Mihawk interjected.

“Is this the Clown’s newest business venture pitch?” You watch as your partner reaches around you to grab the stack of papers that Crocodile had been reading as you first entered. The larger man didn’t respond, rather he rumbled out an affirmative mhm that you felt as much as you heard.

You heard Mihawk pull the chair out that was behind you, sitting on it as he scanned the words on the pages, leaving you to the Devil Fruit user. “Where did Hawkeye find such an impressive young woman?” His lips moved against your hand until he pulled back, still holding your hand in his.

“I got captured by the Marines, but managed to throw myself overboard before we got to their base. I ended up washing up on Mihawk’s shoreline.”

“Taking in strays again, I see.” He spoke louder to draw the attention of the man behind you, his eyes didn’t leave the pages as he answered.

”A bad habit I suppose.” Crocodile’s attention was back onto you, dragging up and down your form as though committing it to memory. “She’s a fan of yours.” You wanted to turn around and chastise your partner for outting you, your cheeks flushing and just when you were about to pull away, Crocodile closed his hand around yours and yanked you closer.

”A fan eh?” His hook pressed into your back as he adjusted his position so he could pull you in between his spread thighs. You were at a complete loss of words, it felt like nothing you could say would be able to save you. “And such a pretty one at that.” You could feel Mihawk’s eyes on you, but he didn’t speak up the way you thought he would. “You should show me how big of a fan you are.” Crocodile whispered huskily as he pressed the curved side of his hook harder against your back, pressing your body against his.

And then you felt it. It had been so long since you had felt the way your body seemed to buzz as Mihawk used Observation Haki to read you with more ease than he does a novel. He could tell you wanted this, could feel the way your body was trying to resist melting into the larger man’s body, but he also noticed the tinge of hesitation, the way you were holding out for his permission.

“If you want to do this my little rabbit, know that restraint is not in the brute’s vocabulary.”

“Fuck you” The larger man spat, his attention turning from you to Mihawk behind you.

“I would have thought you’d learn some manners when I’m allowing you to use something of mine.”

“C-Can I have…” Both their attention was brought back to you who was still resisting the pull of Crocodile who’s hook had dripped lowers and now ran up and down the back of your thighs. “Can I have both?” You finally allowed yourself to melt into Crocodile’s chest, just in time to feel the rumble of his laugh.

“You’ve got yourself one hell of a woman, Hawk-eye.” He managed out between laughs, his arm wrapping around you, nestling his nose into your hair.

“I have yet to find something she can’t do,” Mihawk stood from his chair and closed the distance between the two of you, brushing some hair from the side of your face so he could press a kiss to your cheek from behind, taking the briefest moment to nip at the apple of your cheek as he finished his thought “shall we see if you’ve met your match, my dear?”

The smell of the two men’s colognes intermingling would have normally been overpowering to you, but today it was invigorating, giving you a confidence you had never felt before. “What do you want first, baby girl?”

“I-I don’t know.” Mihawk smiled against you, the pads of his fingers pressing into the meat of your hips.

“She gets shy when faced with a decision.” His lips moved against your skin as he caught some skin between his front teeth, his tongue running along it.

“Is that so?” Crocodile let you go, bringing his hook around to pull your chin up so you met his gaze. “We’ll have to work on that, now won’t we?” You nodded slightly, feeling your legs turn into jelly. When your lips met his it was such a different experience from kissing Mihawk, or anyone for that matter. Right out of the gates he was pressing his tongue into your mouth, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and used it to manipulate you as he pleased, all while Mihawk sucked progressively darker hickies onto your neck. Every time the larger man nipped your lower lip you tried your best to return the favor, not missing the way he groaned into your greedy mouth.

You could feel Mihawk’s gentle but firm hand run down your side and around to the front of our workout sweater, his hand quickly finding the zipper and pulling it down with an infuriatingly slow pace. Crocodile pulled back, not commenting on the line of saliva that connected your lips to his for the briefest of moments before he leaned back and watched your partner undress you slowly.

Having not expected anything more than training this evening, you had dressed for the activity. A black hoodie that was snug enough to give you a full range of motion, without requiring anything underneath, meaning that when Mihawk pulled the sweater off of you, you were only left in a pair of bike shorts that were surely damp between your legs. You fought the instinct to cover yourself with your arms, instead digging your nails into your palm subconsciously as you forced yourself to remain on display.

As Crocodile brought a massive hand to your stomach, running it up until he could cup your left breast in his hand, you felt Mihawk pry your hand open, his lips coming to your ear, shh-ing you, clearly aware of your shyness. “We’re here to enjoy you, but also for you to enjoy us, don’t get in your head, my love.” His words helped you relax, a sigh slipping out as Crocodile caught your nipple between his middle finger and index, pinching it enough to make your core throb. You watched as the larger man leaned forward, ducking his head so he could catch your breast in his mouth, his tongue on your nipple before you could even breathe. Acting on impulse, you ran your fingers through Crocodile’s hair, your fingers feeling the gel he used to keep it perfectly slicked back, but also noticing just how soft his locks were, running your fingers through them as he moved to your other breast.

“How does that feel, my little rabbit?” You tipped your head back, resting it on Mihawk’s shoulder and closing your eyes so you could focus entirely on the feeling of Croc’s wet tongue flicking and circling your areola.

“It feels- ah- it feels really goood.” Mihawk’s hand ran down your stomach, slipping past the waist of your shorts as though they weren’t even there, quickly following the curve of your body until his fingers were met with your soaked heat.

“Is this what you hoped would happen?” He spoke right into your ear, feeling the way you rutted against his fingers before he had really even started touching you.

“I think she’s been wanting this since she got to your little island.”

“Perhaps since before she met me.” Mihawk said smugly, meeting the gaze of his business partner as Crocodile pulled away from your chest to watch the scene in front of him. Mihawk brought his free hand to your neck, holding onto your throat with enough force to remind you it was there but not to restrict your breathing.

“Probably fingered her little cunt to my wanted poster.”

“Did you do that, my love?” Mihawk’s lips moved against your cheek as his fingers rubbed tantalizing circles around your clit, Crocodile’s eyes glued to your flushed cheeks as you fought against your urge to moan, shaking your head.

“I-I could n-never get my hands on o-one.” You turned your head to hide your face in the Mihawk’s neck, moans slipping from your lips as you rutted against his fingers.

“Don’t worry, princess.” Crocodile grabbed the front of your shorts, yanking them down to your thighs in one quick motion of his hand, making you clench your thighs around your partner’s working hand. His hook ran up your body, starting at your mound, up your stomach, over your right breast until he could guide your chin from your partner’s neck so he could see you “I’ll make sure you leave with one.”

His lilac eyes held your’s the same way Mihawk’s gold ones did. The curved side of his hook moved your chin from side to side, moans still flowing from your mouth as Mihawk pressed his middle finger into your soaked hole. The larger of the two men guided your lips to his, capturing them in a much slower pace then you would have expected of him, almost as though he were teasing you. Every time you licked at his lips he would pull away a bit, until you were grabbing at the front of his vest in desperation “I can’t wait to feel these pretty lips around my cock.” You moaned needily into his mouth in response, giving the two men the signal that you too wanted to move this along.

When Mihawk pulled his fingers out of you, you couldn’t stop the whine as your body tried to clench around nothing. “Don’t worry my rabbit, we’re just going to move you so you’re more comfortable. How’s that sound?” You nodded as his hands grabbed your hips and helped you over to the edge of the massive dining table. He turned you around so your cheeks were just barely on the edge before picking you up and onto the table as though you weighed even less than Yoru.

As though you knew what was coming, you laid back against the cold wood of the table, watching as Crocodile stood on the opposite side of the table as your partner, his eyes taking you in as someone may stare at a finely plated meal in front of them. The table wasn’t overly wide, meaning your head was just over the edge, as were your legs which dangled from your knees down. You could feel Mihawk’s lips on your thighs, lavishing you with kisses and the occasional nip as he pushed your knees apart.

“Hurry up, Crocodile, we still have business to discuss.” You could feel the breath of Mihawk’s words against your soaked core, making you raise your hips ever so slightly as though you were reminding him that you were there.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t conduct our meeting now.” The larger man stepped closer to you, chewing on the end of his cigar as he worked to undo his tented slacks. “Unless you prefer not to talk with your mouth full, that is.” As if right on que, Mihawk pressed his face into your dripping folds, his tongue pressing into your hole, holding your legs open with one hand while the other pressed against your clit, evoking a long moan from you.

“That’s right, baby girl, open that mouth real wide for daddy.” He pulled his cock out from his pants, working his hand over it slowly as he watched your lips part every time Mihawk greedily lapped at your cunt.

His size was impressive, not just his length but his girth was bound to push the limits of your gag reflex. “You can take me, can’t you?” His voice was smug, running the curve of his hook along your cheek as you nodded. “This is just a warm up for when I get a turn with that sweet little cunt of yours.” He growled as he stepped closer to you, his musk intoxicating you more than you had ever experienced. Your mouth opened wider as though you were inviting him in, taking a long breath in through your nose before you felt the head of his cock push between your lips.

He took his time more then you expected, clearly trying his best to give you time to get used to his size before he began fucking your throat. Inch by inch he sank into you until you felt his pelvis against your chin and his heavy balls rested just under your nose, stifling you in his scent. He held there for a few seconds, until he felt your throat begin to constrict around him, giving him the signal that you needed air and pulling out until just his head remained against your tongue. “Such a good girl, taking me with no complaints.” With his hand and his hook planted firmly on the table and pressed his hips into you again, groaning as he felt you moan around him.

Your focus was on not gagging, swallowing around him whenever he pulled out enough to allow it and to breath through your nose. So when you felt his warm hand grab yours it surprised you, he didn’t say anything to explain what he was doing, pulling out enough that you could swallow before feeling your own hand held against your neck. He pressed into you again, and you could feel him. Like honest and truly feel him in your throat, your throat widening to accommodate him, “Feel that baby girl, that’s all me.” You tried your best to moan around him but when he pressed fully into you his balls made it hard to take a full breath through your nose. “Hawk-eye” Crocodile tried his best to sound normal, not wanting to let on just how close he was.

Mihawk pulled away from your slick folds, wiping his face on your inner thigh before allowing his gaze to meet Crocodile’s as he pulled entirely out of your mouth, leaving you gasping. “You gonna’ fuck her?” Both you and your partner could tell his voice was shaking, but you knew you would take that point to the grave.

“Do you think I should?” You could hear the smirk on your partner’s face, knowing it was taking every ounce of your self control not to beg him to. “I normally make her work much harder than this.” Whether Mihawk was in idol thought or just wanted it to appear that way, he sat in contemplation, his finger tapping your clit as he tried to decide. “We still have so much to discuss, Crocodile.” The larger man nodded, helping you to sit up on the table, your head swimming when your watery eyes met his. “But you can help our dear guest, can’t you?” You were held there by his golden eyes, his hands moving up and down your thighs. “It’s the least you can do, since you caused it.” Mihawk stood up, grabbed your waist and hauled you off the table he had put you on not that long ago.

As if you knew what he was thinking, you didn’t try to stand, allowing him to put you on your knees in front of the chair he sat back down on. His hand quickly finding its way to your hair, twirling your tresses around his long fingers, signalling Crocodile to join the two of you. The moment you were eye to eye with the larger man’s cock you pulled forward, quickly stopped by Mihawk’s grip turned vice in your hair which yanked you back. “If you so much as think about touching yourself I will ensure you feel nothing but that ache between those needy legs of yours for weeks.” He had leaned forward so his words were whispered hotly in your ear, nodding as much as his grip on your hair would allow. “Now, help our guest.”

He didn’t need to say anything more. His grip loosened enough for you to lean forward, your lips wrapping around Crocodile’s leaking cock and greedily swallowing him. You didn’t need to take it slowly, one hand steadying yourself on what little of his bare hip you could touch, while the other wrapped around his base. The room quickly filled with the sounds of slurping, your eyes closed, focusing on enjoying this moment, the way when you swallowed him completely Mihawk would tug back on your hair just enough to make you whine, the low groans you felt rumble through Crocodile’s body.

“You’re doing such a good job, my eager little rabbit.” The grip on your hair shifted, his palm flat against the back of your head, controlling your movements. “I think our guest is getting to his end.” He forced you to swallow the entire cock of his partner, holding you down until you began to gag around the member before he pulled you all the way off, spit coating your lips and sliding down your chin. “You can’t deny she looks her best like this.” He forced you to look up at the man above you, his expression could be referred to as nothing but starving.

“More beautiful than any diamond I’ve seen.”

“Now, let’s finish this so we can get this meeting out of the way, shall we?” It was unclear who the question was directed at, but you were quickly forced back onto Crocodile’s cock, his head bullying past your uvula and stretching your throat out. Mihawk’s pace was brutal, far too quick to keep up with with your hand, making holding onto his thighs the better hand placement option. “Moan around his cock” Mihawk’s voice was low, almost gruff as he commanded.

Your moans were met with a curse from the man above you, his ringed fingers moving to rest on top of your head, nudging against the grip of the man behind you. Mihawk kept up his bruising pace, your eyes were closed, doing your best to focus on breathing through your nose and swallowing around him whenever given the chance. It wasn’t long before Crocodile’s groans flowed more freely, curses slipping out as his hips began moving with you.

One more hard thrust and his cock pulsed against your tongue, his seed spilling filling your mouth. The taste far more bitter than Mihawk’s, likely a sign of his heavy cigar smoking, but you weren’t going to complain. As he pulled out, you couldn’t deny the ache in your jaw that persisted even once you were able to close your mouth.

As Crocodile stuffed himself back in his slacks and lit another of his seemingly endless supply of cigars, Mihawk tipped your head back against his lap, dabbing at your face with a monogrammed handkerchief. “You did so well, my love.”

“You did.” Crocodile’s voice was gruffer than usual, his eyes never leaving you. “Can’t wait to return the favor after our meeting.”

#one piece smut #one piece #ao3 #ao3 author #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #mihawk x reader #mihawk smut #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile smut

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blegh-110 · 8 months ago

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i. "we were both young when i first saw you" | Sam Monroe

Pairing: older brother's best friend!Sam x fem!reader

Summary: You never liked your older brother's friends, they were always mean to you; kicking your seat on the bus, pulling your hair, and tricking you. You made it your mission to stay away from them, expect for one who is the first to treat you nicely.

Warnings: None! Just a cute little teenage romance <3

Word count: 851

Next part

Older brother's best friend!Sam who you’ve known since you were 12 and he was 14. You remember your brother first coming home from his first day of high school talking about a really cool guy in his english and history class, someone named Sam Monroe. Of course you didn’t really care for your older brother's friends, in fact, you had a bit of a personal vendetta against all of them for the pranks and tricks they pulled on you when you were younger. Even now you try to avoid them and their attempts to give you a wet willy and a flick on the forehead. You were also at the age where boys were simply scary, especially older ones who were friends with your older brother.

So when the time came that your brother invited Sam over to hang out after school, you hid in your room for as long as possible and tried to finish your school work. But it was difficult to focus when you could just feel the presence of another boy in your home. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t go out into the kitchen for a snack in fear that you would run into one of your brother’s friends. They were just so demeaning, they never missed out on the chance to remind you that you’re younger and dumber than them.

You checked the time, 11:37. Surely everyone in the house is asleep, you thought. Quietly, you stepped out of your room into the kitchen, wanting your trip for your sweet tart ropes and water to be fast. But frustration and anger very quickly took over when you couldn’t find the candy you bought with your own money.

“What’re you looking for?” A voice you didn’t recognize said behind you. In the short second before you turned around, you felt your blood run cold and mind go blank. And it became worse when you looked at him, he was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen. He was leaning against the doorway with an intense stare, and what caught your eye was the blue streak in his hair. He looked so cool. With all the courage you can muster up, you speak.

“My candy, I bought sweet tart ropes earlier and can’t… find them.” Your words are quiet, you don’t want to wake anyone up but the boy in front of you is the main reason. At your reply he stands to his full height with a frown.

“Your brother said I could have ‘em, shit, I’m sorry.” And what was strange was that he really looked like it.

“It’s okay,” It really wasn’t, you were still mad. But you just wanted the whole interaction to be over, he was too cute in your eyes to continue any sort of conversation. You wouldn’t be able to speak properly if this went on. So you went back to your room right after, setting aside your homework for tomorrow because you couldn’t get him out of your mind. Although it was only a minute with him, he had shown more kindness than any of your brother's friends, or any boy in fact. And you held on to that very small moment.

You rarely saw him for your entire seventh grade school year, of course you would. He wasn’t your friend, only someone you had a little bit of a crush on. But the times you did have together, despite it being small, were special to you.

Like when he listened to you complain about your insufferable science teacher, “That guy’s a fucking asshole.” His vulgarity is a part of him that always makes you laugh.

“Shh, Sam!” You’re smiling as you bring your pointer finger to your lips, telling him to quiet down, “my parents are in the other room.” At that his eyes widened and head turned to where you’re pointing.

“Okay, I’ll stop. But seriously, I was also in his class and he was the worst, he always picked on me”

As much as you cared for Sam, he was a troublemaker, and you asked if he did anything to warrant that treatment.

“Well, yeah but what does that have anything to do with it?” And before you can answer he poked your side, making you yelp, and ran off.

Or when you first saw him with the piercing right below his bottom lip, “you like it?” You only nodded your head before bolting to your room and shoving your face into the pillow.

And when their freshman class was having a dance, he knocked on your door that night asking if you had any black eye shadow to put on him. The application was messy, since he decided he wanted it literally at the last minute and your brother was yelling for him from the living room to hurry. When you were done and got a good look at his face you blushed. In combination with his piercing, dyed hair, makeup, and suit, you got butterflies and wanted to be the one who he took to the dance.

This one was written for my younger self who wanted an emo boyfriend. I think I might do another part simply for myself. Hopefully this reaches the hayden christensen part of tumblr. Please leave a comment, I love reading them <333 banner is by @dollywons

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #haden christensen x fem!reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen fanfiction #life as a house #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe fluff #sam monroe x you #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x y/n #hayden christensen x y/n

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coco-loco-nut · 9 months ago

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Fortnight

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

summary: you were never cut out to be a WAG

a/n: guys i really like this one so i hope you love it too 🤍

masterlist ttpd masterlist

_______

“Oh my god, we need to get you help,” your best friend, Logan, gasps, walking in on you, three beers deep. You are sitting on the floor of your bedroom, Lando’s too when he’s actually home, the curtains closed, dirty clothes scattered on the floor. What he doesn’t know is that this is your normal.

“I’m fine,” you don’t even slur. Your phone is discarded to the side, beside the latest apology flowers given -shipped- to you by your supposedly loving boyfriend. You haven’t picked up his last couple calls, so he sent your friend to check in.

“Come on, get up and shower while I clean all this, and you call Lando after,” Logan sighs, pulling you off the floor as you finish the beer.

You begrudgingly walk to the bathroom, your friend setting out a fresh change of clothes. “Just, don’t tell Lando. He’s stressed enough,” you tell him, closing the door once you get a confirmation.

Twenty minutes later, you are sitting on the edge of the sink, phone ringing.

“Babe, are you okay, you haven’t been answering?” Lando asks, his worried voice makes a pit in your stomach.

“Lan, I’ve just been a little busy, that’s all. Sorry for worrying you. Are you okay?” despite him being the reason the reason for your recent state, you don’t want him to be hurt.

You miss breaks, when he would be with you all the time, now it seems like you only see each other in passing, like good neighbors who make that corny comment about the weather.

Lando finds you in a similar position as your friend did, except this time you are crying on the floor, not drunk. He got a couple free days off and is eager to spend them with you.

“Darling, what happened?” he kneels down beside you, his voice making you cry harder. “Baby,” his voice and heart breaks as you look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks.

“I-,” you gas for air. “I love you, Lando. It’s ruining my life,” each sob breaks his heart.

“No, no. Don’t say that,” he pleads, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Do you know the longest amount of time we’ve spent together? 14 days, a fortnight. I can’t keep doing this. The apology gifts for missed moments, the quick phone calls that are hardly passable for time spent together,” you pause to catch your breath, the tears still flowing. “I can’t do this, Lando. I miss home, I miss America,” your eyes meet his, both of you broken.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were struggling this much,” he whispers, sitting down and pulling you into him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you look away, the feeling of him foreign.

“I’m off the next couple days, let’s work on us,”

“Lando-,”

“And I’ll bring you to more races even though I know you find it hard to get off of work,”

“Lando-,”

“Please don’t say it,” he whispers, kissing you. Another foreign feeling.

“I’m moving back to America, tomorrow,” you tell him, feeling like you’ve hit absolute rock bottom. Lando looks around the bedroom, realizing the only thing of yours left was your packed suitcase in the corner.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asks, your eyes not able to meet his.

“I was going to visit you in Woking tonight,” the silence that falls between you is deafening. You spend the night in separate rooms, and in the morning he insists on driving you to the airport. He gets out of the car, pulling your suitcase out for you.

“Please don’t go,” he asks one last time, the both of you crying.

“I have to, Lando. It’s what’s best for both of us,” you step closer to him.

“Winter break is almost here, please, just a little longer. This isn’t what’s best for me,” Lando says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love you, Lan, but you deserve someone who can be with you at each race and support you more than I can,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You are always enough for me, I love you,” he cries.

“Please, Lan, I have to put myself first,” you grab your luggage handle and take a step back.

“I won’t block your number, if you ever need anything or are in London, call me, I’ll be there at the drop of a hat,” Lando says, his tear stained cheeks glistening in the sun. His offer is a complete change to how your relationship was.

“Goodbye, Lando,” you turn around, walking into the airport. You hand covers your mouth as you sob, refusing to turn back and look at an equally distressed Lando.

You refuse to check social media, only texting your family and Logan when you land in Miami. You knew Logan from karting before you quit, and he became your closest friend. He offered his apartment in Miami to you until you buy your own.

You quickly got a job and moved to Destin, a whole 9 hours away from Miami, 11 from Austin. Florida is treating you a lot nicer, but you feel stuck in an endless February. You took the magic move on pill that is relocating, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You changed your phone number when you got back to the US, and deleted your social media apps. Lando tried calling you and DM-ing you, but never got a reply.

“I will fly you down, please just come and support me. I need you at my home race,” Logan begs, wanting you to take a two week vacation to spend time with him in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. Something deep inside you agreed, so you pack your bags and hit the road, electing to drive.

You arrive the Wednesday before race week, and stay until the Wednesday after race week. It is nice because you can visit your own family too.

“I got you a paddock pass,” Logan says as you both lay on the beach the day you got in.

“Lo, I can’t go back there,” you turn your head to look at him.

“You can stay in Williams, you don’t have to go visit Oscar when I do,” Logan says, referencing the Australian who is also staying with Logan. Oscar promised he wouldn’t tell Lando you were in town.

“You know, I can get you a much nicer car than your Mercedes,” Oscar says, sitting beside you. Logan gets up to grab two waters.

“A McLaren? Not my thing, I hated driving,” you can’t even bring yourself to say his name. “Yeah, but I do love my car, I always wanted it,” you say.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Oscar leans over, bumping you with his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t. It’s still hard. Sometimes I think about calling him, but he won’t pick up. I have a new number and he has a new girl from what Logan said,” you admit.

“He’s miserable, he will never admit it, but he is. He hasn’t been the same since you left, but you seem to be doing a lot better. You have color back in your skin and you aren’t drinking all the time,” Oscar says, knowing what state you were in when Lando called Logan to check in on you. You were a functioning alcoholic, barely functioning at that point.

“Yeah, this was the right decision. Maybe it’s best if I don’t call Lando. Even if he is miserable, it might make things worse. I can’t get back together with him, but I want him to be okay,” you tell Oscar. What you don’t know is that Lando is renting the beach house beside the one you, Logan, and Oscar are staying in for the two weeks. He is jealous about how happy you seem with his teammate and your best friend.

You figure it out when you take a midnight walk, clad in a sweater with your university’s logo on it.

“Lando, hi,” you breathe, taking him in.

“Hey, you look really good. I like the sweater,” he shifts his weight in the sand. You look healthier, happier, and it kills him.

“I, um, changed my phone number and deleted my social media apps,” you say, answering the question he didn’t want to ask.

“I tried dating again, but I broke it off, I couldn’t do it,”

“Sorry, I should’ve thought about how I would hurt you,” you say, looking at your feet in the sand.

“No, you needed to do it. I don’t blame you, I was basically abandoning you,” Lando says, silently inviting you to join him on the walk. It becomes a habit, you join him every night.

“Congrats on the win,” you hug him on night 11. It was a silent agreement that you would go your separate ways again after the two weeks.

“Where are you living now?” Lando asks on night 14, both of you sitting in the sand between the two houses.

“Destin, Florida. I bought an apartment that used to be a timeshare,” you say, watching the waves.

“That’s pretty close, right?”

“Nine hours, Lan. other side of the state,” you smile, trying not to laugh. Lando’s heart flutters at the way you say his nickname, but squashes it.

“Oh, well I’m glad you were able to come down and support Logan,” he says, yawning a little.

“Alright, I have to wake up early to drive home,” you stand up, brushing the sand off of your legs.

“Drive safe,” Lando hugs you, finally feeling healed.

“Goodbye, Lan,” you whisper.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, capturing the look of you in his mind.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #logan sargeant #oscar piastri

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