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ryin-silverfish · 6 months ago

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A Guide to the Chinese Underworld (and what it isn't)

As many FSYY and fox posts as there were on my blog, I am actually a huge fan of the Chinese Underworld mythos. Mostly because I was once a morbid little kid that loved reading about the excavations of ancient tombs, and found the statues depicting hellish torture in the Haw Par Villa "super cool".

Apart from the aesthetics, the history of its evolution is also fascinating. Most of us, Chinese or not, only know the most popular version of the Underworld——the "Ten Kings" system, yet that isn't always the case. So today, I'll start off with a short summary of that.

In pre-Qin era, there was already this generic idea of a "Realm of the Dead" called the Yellow Spring, Youdu, or Youming, but we know very little about it.

Then, in the Han dynasty, two ideas start to emerge: 1) the Underworld is a bureaucracy, 2) the God of Mt. Tai ruled over the dead.

This early bureaucracy might not function as an agent of punishment; the main focus was on keeping the dead segregated from the living so they wouldn't bring diseases and misfortune to the latter, as well as using those ghosts to enforce collective punishments upon people for their lineage's wrongdoings while they were still alive.

Post-Han, after Buddhism entered China and took root, its idea of karmic punishments and reincarnation and the figure of King Yama was merged with folk and Daoist ideas of the Underworld bureaucracy, and, came Tang dynasty, resulted in the "Ten Kings" system that first appeared in Dunhuang manuscripts.

It was very rudimentary and far from well-established, as seen in Tang legends, with some adopting the Ten Kings system, some sticking to the Lord of Mt. Tai and some favoring King Yama, and overall little agreements on who's in charge of the Underworld.

But the "Ten Kings" system would become the mainstream version from then onwards, used in Ming vernacular novels and made even more popular by folk religion scrolls like the Jade Records (Yuli Baochao).

As such, most points in the following sections will be based on the fully matured "Ten Kings" system of the Underworld, as seen in the Jade Records and JTTW.

What happens when you die?

(This is a fictionalized walkthrough of the posthumous fate of souls under the "Ten Kings" system. I try to stick to the very broad progression outlined in the Jade Records, but many creative liberties are taken on the details.)

Let's say there's a guy named Xiao Ming, and he had just died of a heart attack. Bummers. What now?

Well, the first thing he saw would be the ghost cops.

There isn't really an unanimous agreement on who these ghost cops are: they may be a pair of ghosts in white and black robes, wearing tall hats (Heibai Wuchang), they may have the heads of farm animals (Ox-Head and Horse-Face), or they can just be generic ghost bureaucrats. For convenience's sake, let's say it was the first scenario.

"Who are you guys and where are you taking me?"

"Glad you asked!" The taller ghost cop, being the cheerful one of the pair, replied. It wasn't very reassuring, considering that his tongue was dangling out of his mouth way further than it should. "I'm the White Impermanence, my sour-looking colleague here is the Black Impermanence, and we are taking you to the City God's office."

This City God, a.k.a. Chenghuang, is just like how it sounds: the divine guardian of a city, who also pulls double duty as the head of the local Dead People Customs Office. They are usually virtuous officials deified posthumously, and in JTTW, they fall under the category of "Ghostly immortals", together with the Earth Gods a.k.a. Tudi.

So Xiao Ming went with the two ghost cops——not like he had much of a choice, made his way through the long queue at the City God's office, and was now standing in front of a gruff old magistrate in traditional robes.

"Name?"

"Wang Xiao Ming."

"Age and birth dates?"

"21, April 16 2003…"

After he was done asking questions, the City God flipped through his ledger, then picked up a brush, ticked off Xiao Ming's name, and told him to go get his pass in the next room. More waiting in a queue. Wonderful.

"I never heard anything about needing a pass to get to the Underworld," the girl in front of Xiao Ming asked the ghost cops, who were standing guard nearby. "Is this a new policy or something?"

"Yeah. In the old days, we'd just drag y'all straight to the Ghost Gate." The ghost cop in black said, then muttered to himself, "Fuckin' paperworks and overpopulation, man…"

(This "Dead People Passport" thing was popularized in the middle-to-late Ming dynasty, as shown by the discovery of such documents inside tombs in southern China. )

(It might have evolved from similar passes to the Western Pure Land in lay Buddhism that recorded their acts of merits. Which, in turn, might be traced back to the "Dead People Belongings List" of Han dynasty, to be shown to Underworld bureaucrats so that no one would take away the dead's private property down there or something.)

Anyways, after he received his pass, Xiao Ming departed together with the rest of the bunch, to be led to the Ghost Gate. It was like the world's most depressing tourist group, where instead of tour guides, you got two ghost cops in funny hats, and the only scenery in sight was the desolation of the Yellow Spring Road.

They weren't the only travellers on the road, though. Xiao Ming noticed other groups moving in the far distance, behind the fog and the flickering ghostfire, led by similar figures in black and white.

It made a lot of sense; realistically, there was no way two ghost cops could fetch hundreds of thousands of dead people all by themselves.

(SEA Tang-ki mediums believed there were multiple Tua Di Ya Peks——Hokkien name for the Black and White Impermanences, working for different Underworld Courts.)

At last, the Ghost Gate stood in front of Xiao Ming, guarded by two towering figures. Normally, they'd be Ox-Head and Horse-Face, like what you see at Haw Par Villa's Underworld entrance.

However, older Han dynasty works like Wang Chong's 论衡·订鬼 also mentioned two gods, Shenshu and Yulei, as guardians of the Ghost Gate, who would use reed ropes to capture malicious ghosts and feed them to tigers, making them possibly the earliest incarnation of "Gate Gods".

So here, they were what Xiao Ming sees, standing side by side like proper doormen, silently watching herds of ghosts being funneled through the entrance.

The place was more crowded than a train station during the CNY Spring Rush; the ghost cops had already said their quick goodbye and left to fetch the next group of dead people, leaving the resident officials of the Underworld proper to maintain order and quell any would-be riots.

Now you started seeing the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guys, poking at unruly ghosts with their pitchforks and dragging away the violent ones in chains. Among their ranks were other monstrous beings, blue-faced yakshas and imps, but also regular dead humans who look 100% done with their jobs, like the lady who stamped Xiao Ming's pass when it was finally his turn.

After this point, Xiao Ming had entered the Underworld proper, and his next destination would be the First Court, led by King Qin'guang. Here, his fate should be decided by what is revealed in the King's magical mirror.

If Xiao Ming was a good guy, or someone who had done an equal amount of good and bad things in life, he'd be sent straight to the Tenth Court for reincarnation. However, if the mirror, while replaying his life events, had displayed more evil deeds than good ones, he'd be sent to one of the 2nd-9th Courts for judgment and then punished inside the Eighteen Hells.

Each of the Ten Kings was also assisted by ghostly judges. Many of them were righteous and just officials in life who had been recruited into the Ten Courts posthumously——Cui Jue from JTTW is one such example, while others were living people working part-time for the Underworld, like how Wei Zheng, Taizong's minister, works part-time for the Celestial Bureaucracy in JTTW.

We decide to be nice to Xiao Ming, so, after reliving some embarrassing childhood incidents and cringy teenage phases in front of a bunch of dead bureaucrats, he was found innocent and sent to the Tenth Court.

The queue here was almost as long as the First Court's, stretching on and on alongside of the banks of the Nai River. King of the Turning Wheel made his judgment without even lifting his head when it was Xiao Ming's turn:

"Path of Humans, male, healthy in body and mind, ordinary family. Next!"

Exiting the Tenth Court building, Xiao Ming saw the Terrace of Forgetfulness, standing tall before six bridges, made of gold, silver, jade, stone, wood, and…some unidentified material. Before he could get a good look at them and the little dots moving across those bridges, he was hurried into the Terrace by the ghostly officials.

Now, both JTTW and the Jade Records mention multiple bridges across the Nai River. In the former, there is 3, and the latter, 6. The bridges made of precious materials are for people who will reincarnate into better lives, as the wealthy, the fortunate, and the divine, while the Naihe Bridge is either the common option or the terribad shitty option.

However, the Naihe Bridge proved to be so iconic, it became THE bridge you walk across to reincarnate in popular legends.

Anyways, back to Xiao Ming. He found himself standing in a giant soup kitchen of sorts, with an old lady at the counter, scooping soup out of her steaming pot and into one cup after another.

This is Mengpo, the amnesia soup granny; according to the Jade Records, she was born in the Western Han era, and a pious cultivator who thought of neither the past nor the future, only knowing that her surname was Meng.

Made into an Underworld god by the Jade Emperor, she cooks a soup of five flavors that will wipe the memory of the dead, making sure they do not remember any of their past lives once they reincarnate.

It tastes awful. Like what you get after pouring corn syrup, coffee, chilli sauce, lemon juice and seawater into the same cup.

Such was Xiao Ming's last thought, as he gulped down the soup, and then he knew no more.

Things you should know about the Chinese Underworld:

1. It's not the Christian Hell.

Rather, the Chinese Underworld functions somewhat like the Purgatory, in that there are a lot of torment, but the torment's not eternal, however long the duration may be. Once you finish your sentence, you get reincarnated as something else, though that "something else" is not a guaranteed good birth.

Other people can also speed up the process via transferring of merits: hiring a priest/monk to chant sutras and perform rituals, for example, or performing good deeds in life in dedication to the dead, or they can pray to a Daoist/Buddhist deity to save their loved ones from a dreadful fate.

Interestingly enough, a thesis paper I read mentions that, whereas Buddhist salvation from the Hells was based on transference of merits——you give monks offerings and pay them to chant sutras, so they can cancel out the sinners' bad karma with good ones, Daoist ideas of salvation tend to involve the priest going down there, sorting it out with the Underworld officials, and taking the dead out of the Hells themselves.

(The paper also stops at the Northern-Southern and Tang dynasties, so the above is likely period-specific.)

2. Nor is it run by evil demons.

Underworld officials are not nice guys and look pretty monstrous and torture the sinful dead, but they are not the embodiment of evil. Rather, the faction as a whole is what I'd call Lawful Neutral, who function on this "An Eye for An Eye" logic, where every harm the sinner caused in life must be returned to them, in order for their karmic debts to be cleansed and move on to their next life.

They can absolutely be corrupt and incompetent and take bribes——Tang dynasty Zhiguai tales and Qing folklore compendiums featured plenty of such cases, but that's a very mundane and human kind of evil, not a cosmic/innate one.

This is just my personal opinion, but if you want to do an "evil" Chinese Underworld? It should be a very bureaucratic evil, whose leaders are bootlickers to the higher-ups, slavedrivers to their rank-and-file workers, and bullies who abuse their power over regular dead people.

Not, y'know, Satan and his infernal legions or conspiring Cthulu cultists.

3. The Ten Kings are not Hades.

Make no mistake, they still have a lot of power over your average dead mortal. But in the grand scheme of things? They are the backwater department of the pantheon, who only show up in JTTW to get pushed around and revive the occasional dead people.

When Taizong made his trip to the Underworld, the Ten Kings greeted him as equals——kings of ghosts to the king of the living. If they see themselves as equal in status to a mortal emperor, then, like any mortal emperors, they are subordinate to the Celestial Host, and the balance of power is not even remotely equal or in their favor.

Also, it isn't said outright, but under the Zhong-Lv classification of immortals JTTW is using, Underworld officials will likely be considered Ghostly immortals, the lowest and weakest of the five types, much like Tudis and Chenghuangs.

Essentially: they are ghosts that are powerful enough to not reincarnate and linger on and on, spirits of pure Yin as opposed to true immortals, who are beings of pure Yang.

It's pretty much the shittiest form of immortality, the result you get when you try to speedrun cultivation (the Zhong-Lv text also made a dig at Buddhist meditation here), and if they don't reincarnate or regain a physical body, there is no chance of progressing any further.

Oh, and fun fact? In the Song dynasty, commoners and literati elites alike believed that virtuous officials in life would get appointed as ghostly officials in death.

However, the latter viewed it as a punishment. Which was strange, considering how they still held the same position and the same amount of authority, just over dead people instead of living ones, so there should be no big losses, right?

Well...it was precisely the "dead people" part that made it a punishment. See, a lot of the power and prestige they had as officials came from the benefits they could bring to their families and kins and native places, as well as the potential wealth and reputation bonuses for themselves.

A job in the Dead People Supreme Court would give them the same workload, but with none of those benefits. Since all the dead people had to reincarnate eventually, they couldn't have a fixed group as their power base, or keep their old familial ties and connections. At most, they could help out an occasional dead relative or two.

Like, working for the Underworld Courts was the kind of deadend (no pun intended) job not even living officials wanted for themselves in the afterlife. That's how hilariously sad and pathetic they are.

4. In JTTW at least, they aren't even the highest authorities of the Underworld.

That would be Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, who is technically their boss, though he seems to be more of a spiritual leader than someone who is actually involved in running the bureaucracy.

Which makes sense, since he has sworn an oath to not attain Buddhahood until all Hells are empty, and his role is to offer relief and salvation to the suffering souls, not judging and punishing them.

Now, historically...even though Ksitigarbha in early Tang legends was still the savior of the dead, he seemed to be unable to interfere with the judicial process of the Underworld, merely showing up to take people away before they were judged by King Yama.

However, in the mid-Tang apocryphal "Sutra of Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha" (地藏菩萨经), he had evolved into the equal of King Yama, with the power of supervision over his judgements. By the time the Scripture on the Ten Kings came out, in artistic depictions, the Ten Kings had become fully subservient to him.

5. Diyu usually refers to the prison-torture chamber part, not the courthouse, nor is it the entirety of the Underworld.

And for the majority of souls that haven't committed crimes, they'll only see the courthouse part before they are sent to reincarnation. That's why I personally don't like, or use the name Diyu for the Chinese Underworld: I prefer the term Difu ("Earth Mansions"), which encompasses the whole realm better.

Also: even though historical sources like the Scripture on the Ten Kings and Jade Records seem to suggest that the dead were just funneled through this Courthouse-Prison-Reincarnation pipeline with no breaks in between, in practice, that isn't the case.

According to popular folk beliefs, after the dead were done with their trials/sentences, they stayed in the Underworld for a period of time and led regular lives, while functioning as ancestor spirits and receiving offerings.

Which would imply that the Underworld had a civilian district of sorts, populated by regular ghosts, making the whole realm even less of a direct Hell/Purgatory equivalent.

6. It is located in a different realm, but still part of the Six Paths and doesn't exist outside of reality.

In Buddhist cosmology, like the Celestial Realm, the Underworld is part of the Realm of Desires and thus subject to all the woes of samsara.

The pain and misery of the Path of Hell may be the worst and most obvious, but becoming a celestial being isn't the goal of serious Buddhists either: despite all the pleasures and near-infinite lifespan they enjoy, they are not free from samsara and will eventually have to reincarnate.

So if, say, the world is being destroyed at the end of a kalpa, all beings of the Six Paths will perish alongside it, leaving behind a clean slate for the cycle to start anew. The dead won't all end up in the Underworld and face eternal damnation.

7. The Black and White Impermanences would not appear in the Underworld pantheon formally until the Qing dynasty.

The concept that when you die, you get fetched to the Underworld by petty ghost bureaucrats is already well-established in Tang legends, but these were just generic ghost bureaucrats in all sorts of colorful official robes, with yellow being the most common color.

The idea of there being two specific psychopomps in black and white would only become popular in the Qing dynasty. Mengpo is kinda similar: although she existed before the Ming-Qing era as a goddess of wind, venerated by boatmen, her "amnesia soup granny" incarnation came from the Jade Records.

#chinese mythology #chinese folklore #chinese underworld #diyu #chinese religion #cw: death #hell #underworld #journey to the west #I'm lazy so if you want a “work cited” list #just dm me

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yanmuffins · 21 days ago

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waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

#anonymous #asks.#yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batman #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader

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writingfromasgard · 5 months ago

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[141 + Konig] Surprise! I'm Naked

Masterlist

Synopsis: You've been watching videos all day when you come across a genre of people surprising their S/O in lingerie at unexpected moments. You decide to give it a try.

John MacTavish

You decide to surprise John when he comes in from grabbing a meal with his work buddies. You're laying out on the couch, watching a TV show and nibbling on a snack or two.

This man slams the door shut, blue eyes turning a shade darker when his eyes land on you. "Got some new clothes?"

You laugh at the joke and he's joining you on the couch, pushing one of your legs off while he tosses his own clothes off

Simon Riley

There's nothing more he loves than seeing you lounging around his place, totally relaxed. When he finds you on his bed, a flimsy, cheap lacy ensemble, his mouth runs dry.

He chooses to wait to touch you, giving you a little show as he peels off his clothing. His hand smooths over his Adonis belt, gripping his cock. "Little minx, you see what you've done?"

You swoon as he climbs over you, testing the strength of the material - he's happy that he was right about it being filmsy. Knows you like when his biceps flex when he tears it in one go, fucking you with the tattered remains hanging off your body.

John Price

John is stepping out of the shower when he sees you on his side of the bed. You aren't naked - not completely. You've got those stockings he loves on and his hat. He chuckles, swaggering over to you with his smile.

"What's this, doll?" He asks, tilting your chin up with a finger. You smile just as big as his, spreading your legs open. He drops his towel, grabbing your thighs.

He doesn't mind getting on his knees to lap at his favorite meal as long as you keep his hat on while he does it. The minute it falls off, he's going to show you how good of a day he had.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You've thought and thought about how to surprise Kyle - when he's home, he's always loving on you. It's hard to sneak away until finally another trend catches your eye - naked yoga. You've never done yoga a day in your life but that would surprise him.

You buy a yoga mat, set an alarm to a few minutes before he's about to get home and turn on a random yoga video on YouTube. You hardly notice him come in until the door slams shut.

Kyle comes up behind you as you're sitting with your legs together in front of you, gripping the back of your knees. You pretend you're focused. He surprises you, pushing gently on your back, "Babs, you can do better than that."

He's helping you get a little further than you're actually attempting. The routine shifts into a standing. One leg is in front of you while the other is behind, stretched out as you feel your thigh muscles straining. He's right there again, hip pushing you to move to a deeper stretch. "Gotta get you limber for everything I'm going to do to you when you're done."

König

You've never slept with König which is exactly why you want to try surprising him with your nude so maybe the big lug will get it. You're wearing a trenchcoat as you show up to his home. He eyes it but doesn't say anything.

You step in and follow him to the living, getting nervous. The couch creaks as he sits down, expecting you to join him for the movie he lined up. You stand in front of him, ripping the proverbial bandaid off and dropping the trench coat.

You can tell he doesn't know where to look - how to react until he's leaning forward with admiration in his eyes. "This is all for me, Sonnenschein? For me?" You laugh at his reaction and he drags you down into his lap, sucking on your breast immediately.

You gasp, grabbing hold of his hair to tug on it. "Thank you. Thank you so much. This is all for me.." He groans, bullying his fat cock into you as he continues to thank you.

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maxv331 · 20 days ago

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✮ What happened to hello | Lando Norris ✮

Summary: Quick little drabbled based on all the speculation of Lando getting a bad haircut because he wore his hat so much at the Mexican GP

Warning: none :)

word count: 848

a/n: I haven't wrote in a long time so I'm pretty rusty, go easy on me! I also wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to wrap up the ending, so yeah, sorry for that!

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

“Take the hat off Lando” You playfully demand with a squint of your eyes as soon as Lando’s face appears on your laptop screen.

You’re currently on day 14 of being apart since Lando left for the triple-header and it’s eating you both alive. You haven’t been apart for longer than seven days at a time, in almost a year. Everyone around you, even the fans, call you two codependent, but really, you were just in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible.

Between the time zone differences and you both working so much, you’ve found it difficult to spend much time together. You’ve found comfort in being able to keep up with Lando from all of the fan and official F1 content posted online.

You’ve gotten a giggle out of all the speculation surrounding Lando’s hair. It started on the first media day in Mexico, when it appeared Lando had gotten a haircut, but his hat stayed on the entire day.

The next day was when the rumors actually started, Lando hadn’t taken his hat off again and every fan you came across was freaking out and cracking jokes that Lando got a bad haircut and was embarrassed about it.

Initially, aside from enjoying all the posts, you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Lando was mostly wearing the hat because of the heat; but then you realized Lando hadn’t sent you any photos without the hat on, and the handful of late night facetimes you had, he was already in bed with his hoodie up and it was mostly dark.

Whenever you and Lando are apart, you always made sure to keep each other still included in the day to day parts of your lives; you were always sending photos, videos and voice notes until you could facetime or be with each other again.

Lando hadn’t changed your familiar routine, he just never had hair showing, which was a little odd, but nothing concerning. You admittingly missed the post shower selfies or the sweaty, messy haired, tired post race selfies.

You’re instantly met with a giggle from Lando “What happened to hello baby.” Lando’s sat in his drivers room, he’d got a couple hours break between practice and qualifying and wanted to make the most of your shared free time to squeeze in a quick facetime with you.

“Hello baby” You grinned cheekily. “I’ve missed you so much, did you get a bad haircut?” You giggled

Lando raised an eyebrow as another giggle slipped past his lips. “Did I get a bad haircut?”

You nodded quickly “You haven’t taken your hat off the entire time you’ve been in Mexico, so show me”

“And how would you know that, hmm?” Lando asked with a smirk. Lando was initially confused, but now all he wanted was to play into the fun he was having.

A bright rosy blush crept up your cheeks as you briefly glanced away from Lando on the screen. Lando’s now grinning mischievously, enjoying getting to tease you. “Do I need to talk to Osc or have you been creeping on me?”

Before you even get a chance to answer, Lando starts giggling again and shaking his head. You pout and cross your arms. “A bad haircut is the only explanation for the hat and not getting my selfies”

“Your selfies?” Lando questions, once again raising an eyebrow. He knows exactly what selfies you’re talking about, but one thing about Lando Norris is that he loves to tease his girlfriend.

“I want my post race selfies back Lando”

Lando smiles widely, taking a moment to take in all of your soft sweet features. Lando hadn’t intentionally been keeping anything from you, the few days he had been in Mexico had been busier than usual and it slipped his mind. “I’m sorry my love, I promise you’ll get one after quali”

“I better” You murmur, arms still crossed against your chest. You did miss the selfies, but you weren’t actually annoyed with him, in fact any feelings that even remotely resembled annoyance or hurt from the past few days all stem from a place of missing Lando.

Lando knows you better than you know yourself, so he knows that if he doesn’t do something in the next few minutes, the call is going to take a sharp turn from playful and fun to somber and probably leave at least one of you in tears. Neither you or Lando were one to shy away from your emotions, but if Lando could hold off on it, until he could guarantee you his undivided love and attention, that's what he’s going to do.

Lando winks at you, before taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Is that better my love?”

A small gasp passes your lips, before you break out into the widest smile that Lando had seen in weeks. “Lando!” You squeal happily. “You look so handsome, why have you been hiding your hair?”

“I haven’t been hiding my hair, you doughnut,” Lando laughed. “It’s hot and I like my hat”

#Lando Norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #ln4 #Lando Norris fluff #lando norris

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bunnys-kisses · 24 days ago

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kink-o-ween - day twenty-three

max verstappen - filming/recording

tags: smut/pwp, filming/recording, dirty talk, established relationship, large chested!reader, use of red bull merch

a/n: thank you for the patience while i wrote these. managing my schedule better has helped greatly. thank you for all of the kind words, i hope that these (late) fics are as good as you hoped for <3

kink-o-ween master-list

your relationship with max verstappen was private. the most you had online was a casual picture of him on a private instagram account. you wished to keep it low-key. you naturally a private person, you didn't need a media circus because the person you chose to love was a well known and beloved racer.

max agreed, it was a piece of privacy that he could have. years of his life were heavily documented, someone could easily find photos of him at every stage of life. so to have something private, only for him, was a breath of fresh air.

and while your public presence was minimal, you both had a massive archive of private, intimate material of one another.

"i can't believe you're making me wear this. is your ego not big enough, my love?" you asked as you exited the washroom in nothing but a red bull branded t-shirt and hat. specifically his t-shirt and hat with the number '1' plastered across it.

max sat up a little more in bed and felt his cock twitch in his tight briefs. his fingers reached for his phone.

you looked at him and crossed your arms, "is it that horrible?" you shifted from one side to the other, uncertain. the shirt wasn't long enough to cover your lower half so your lover got a good glimpse of your cunt.

"this is far from horrible. this is perfect." he swallowed, "can i take a picture?" his fingers itched for the phone, "i want to see this over and over again when i'm in texas."

you dropped your arms and placed your hands at your hips, "don't you already have a massive collection of photos?" then crossed the room towards him. your hands soon played with the bottom of the t-shirt.

max replied, "you know how people paint fruit over and over again, and it's never enough. that's me with you."

you giggled as you climbed into bed, "so you're saying i'm a bowl of fruit, mister verstappen?" then took him by the face to give him a heated kiss on the lips. he put the phone down and wrapped an arm around you for a moment.

when you pulled away and straddled his waist, he reached for the device once more. he then pushed up your shirt to expose your large breasts.

he angled the camera to you and snapped a few photos. he then licked his lips. he knew if his phone got hacked. there would be so many photos of you leaked online. from your first date to your first holidays together. and even your wedding. next to no one knew about that marriage, except family, two of his friends, and your best friend for university.

max made sure to get a photo of you holding up the shirt with your wedding ring on display. it excited him. his wife exposing herself to him. it was arousing as he snapped a few more photos of your sweet face.

"happy? you'll survive texas." you giggled as you put the shirt down your torso and straddled his waist further. but you weren't on top for long as mac got you onto your back and he stripped himself of his briefs.

"i can never get enough of you, my love." he chuckled, "i could fill my entire phone with photos of you and i'd still need another phone to take more photos." he palmed your breasts through the shirt and when his hat fell off your head, he placed it back onto you.

he took you by the waist and slowly sank his cock into you. he watched your expression change and he cooed at you, "my wife, my darling wife." his groaned got a little louder.

the stretch was perfect. and it made your own noises a little louder.

"i want you for the rest of my life or as long as you'll have me." he worked your pussy with heavy thrusts. he loved you, if he didn't, he would've never made a life with you. a private piece where you two could happily live.

he married you, he loved you. he planted his hands on either side of you as he got a better angle to fuck you with. the moans echoed through his head as he worked your beautiful cunt.

"please, max." you moaned as your nails dug into his strong shoulders. he was your champion, your lover, your husband. you could feel yourself grow sweaty in the red bull shirt.

he kissed your warm cheek, "you look so good in my kit. that number looks good on you." he joked as he laid another heated kiss onto you. he held the covers under him. his heart rate picked up as he fucked you. he could taste the pleasure on his tongue.

"mmm, maybe i should wear mclaren orange next time." you remarked and your husband fucked you a little faster.

"maybe my orange. dutch orange." he replied, "but not mclaren. never. not while i'm still breathing." he kissed you with a heated passion as the bed shifted under you. his strokes were heavy and it made your thighs tense up around around his waist.

after all this time, he still knew how to make you moan. how to make pleasure pool in your soul. comforting and familiar. pleasure was a heated affair between you two.

he leaned further against you and rutted upwards into you. the heat throbbed in his mind as he watched your body move with his. wearing his clothes, having his last name. you were perfect. his lovely wife.

with a bit of space between you two, he scrambled for his phone. he documented the sight of your body, how you looked in his t-shirt. he kept going at a steady pace and pressed against areas that left you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

he even captured a small video of his cock thrusting in and out of your slick pussy. your wetness made his cock soaked. he groaned, "that's my beautiful wife."

his words made your noises become more needy as you gripped onto the soft covers under you. you swallowed back the pleasure as to not get too loud. you then said, "fuck, you're perfect, max. my perfect husband."

he licked his lips and continued to work your hips. work his cock into your pussy. his length throbbed in you, he needed his beautiful wife, "i lucked out. you complete me. that's why i have so many photos of you. i need you in every way i can get you.' he picked up the pace and put the phone further onto the bed to really admire you without a screen.

"max."

he looked over you once more. his cock pressed against your softest parts. and you couldn't help but get louder. you couldn't deny yourself the pleasure anymore. it felt so good.

"please, max." you said loudly. your back arched, only your husband could make you feel this good. the kind of pleasure that left you awestruck.

"i'll always love you." he said as he put his all into it. your body moved with the force of his movements. you came quickly and a sweet noise left your lips and it made max ache for more. he ached for you. the thrusts continued as he felt the similar heat course through him. you felt amazing and soon after you came he finished as well.

he kept every inch inside of you as the pleasure clogged his brain.

"max."

"my lover, my everything." he said with love bubbling in his tone. he slowed to a stop before he pulled out, his face was flushed and his breathing was heavy.

you both soon ended up under the covers. you ditched the hat, but kept the shirt on at his request. your nipples poked through the fabric which made something rouse in your husband as he held you close.

he admired you while he was blissed out. it didn't take long before he felt so relaxed that he fell asleep, dozed off with soft snoring.

you played with his hair and held a smile for him. while he had a large collection of photos of you. you had the same with him. you reached over him to the nightstand to grab your phone. you snapped a photo of his sleeping face before you put it down onto the bed next to his and then kissed him on the lips <3

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skzdarlings · 9 months ago

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lady-like ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: ❛ i'd say you need someone to put you in your place. ❜ W CHAN I BEG OF YOU + original ask: requested by anonymous: “You want gentle? Wrong fucking address”+ Chan <3

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: enemies to lovers, established lovers. criminal!chan, masked!chan. dom!chan, sub!reader (background mentions of switching). choking, floor sex, rough sex, dirty talk. brief mention of some sexism in the workplace. word count: 2050 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

It is the middle of the night and you are patrolling the art gallery yourself. You do not trust your colleagues or the security team tonight. No one believes there is any way to track the SKZ gang but you have found an undoubted pattern. That motley band of thieves have struck this gallery more than once, making off with paintings and artifacts alike, but tonight you will catch them.

Tonight you will catch him.

Your thought conjures him like a devil. You turn a corner and a gloved hand escapes the shadows, covering your mouth. You are yanked backwards, right into his chest, your back to his front.

You feel a moment of satisfaction because ha, you were right. No one believed you but you knew SKZ would strike tonight.

Then you are furious because those rotten thugs are probably making off with a priceless artifact while their leader holds you hostage.

“Hey there,” Bang Chan says in that too-friendly drawl. “How’s my favourite girl tonight?”

You try biting his hand but the leather of his glove is quite thick. Probably on purpose. You have left more than one bite mark on him in past encounters.

“Ah-nah-nah,” he says, steadying you when you wriggle. “Stop that. We both know how this ends. Let’s play nice this time instead, yeah?”

You answer by stomping on his foot and throwing your head back. The smack surprises him and he stumbles, giving you an opportunity to turn and brace yourself in a more defensible stance. You face him, hands up, adrenaline thundering through your body.

Chan is wearing all black, including a beanie and mask. He removes the hat, revealing hair just as black, but keeps the mask while rubbing his jaw. The half-hidden face somehow makes the dark intensity of his eyes look even more severe.

You and Chan have a played a long game of cat-and-mouse. You are so used to his teasing that you almost forget he is dangerously competent man. A criminal. A criminal you despise. A criminal who is undoubtedly grinning at you under that mask, given the way his eyes crinkle with mirth. It should not make your heart race.

“Ouch,” he says. He takes a step towards you, inching out of the shadows. “You’ve been training. Impressive.”

“Not like I had a choice,” you snap. “Some no good criminal keeps attacking my art gallery.”

“Criminal, yeah,” Chan says. “But no good? Really?” He flicks a hand your way, not so much striking as testing your reflexes. You bat it successfully and his eyebrows lift, showing he is moderately impressed.

“You’re a dirty thief,” you say, taking a swing of your own. Yours is much more deliberate, swinging at his head, but he dodges just as easily.

You scamper backwards, his booted steps following swiftly. You keep your hands up in defense. He is still smirking under that mask.

“Thief, yeah,” he continues to tease. “But dirty? Well… I suppose you’d know…”

Heat pulses under your skin.

This cat-and-mouse game has crossed many lines. You cannot even remember how it first happened. It feels like Bang Chan has always been in the shadows, stealing paintings and kisses alike. One moment you were snarking at the infuriating cat burglar, then your hands were in his hair and his mouth was on yours.

Sometimes he wins, distracting you or holding you, giving his team time to make off with something. Sometimes you win, trapping him or his men and only letting them go if they relinquish their prize. Weirdly, Chan seems to like it when you outsmart him. It quite literally puts him on his knees.

Flustered, your next swing is more emotional than strategic. He catches your arm and spins you again, trapping you against his body. You grunt and struggle in his arms.

“That’s not very polite, you know,” he says. “I thought you said you were a lady.”

Yes, you have made such an insistence in the past, reminding him you are a lady of class, an educated woman, an intelligent academic. He did not argue. He did pin you to the wall and choke you in that infuriatingly delicious way, the way that gets you coming all over his hand in a second. That’s it, he said, with a hand around your throat and another under your skirt. Tell me what a lady you are. Letting a criminal like me make you come. Tsk, what would your co-workers say?

You stamp the memory down because it is getting you hot. He is holding you differently than before, so you cannot swing your head back again. You writhe uselessly.

“I didn’t just say I was a lady,” you snap. “I am a lady. I am a respected professional, unlike you—”

“I’m respected and professional, thank you,” he says, his tone still bright like he is having fun.

It is fun. You hate to admit it, but it is. Before he started breaking into your galleries, every day was the same. Your life was such a monotony and you dread returning to it. There is a reason you never call the authorities on him. There would be no triumph in that demise. You would lament his absence and forever feel like business went unfinished.

You are satisfied when you can face this dangerous man and win, when you can push him on his back and put him in his place, when all that danger and power and skill surrenders to you and you alone. Because Bang Chan has a notorious reputation for a lot of things, but fraternizing with civilians is not one of them.

Except you.

Except right now.

“You know what I say, little miss lady?” he asks.

He gives you no time to answer. Your breath catches when he circles that gloved hand around your throat and squeezes. It softens every part of you immediately, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff, instinctively and animalistically submissive in the claws of something powerful.

You whimper, your knees going weak. You know you are wet. You know he knows.

He pulls you against him. You can feel every hard plane of his body, his bulky body armour, his weapons. You feel either a buckle or his bulge against your body, but either way it is irrevocably suggestive. When you wriggle, he squeezes your throat, and you go pliant again.

“I’d say,” he whispers, “you need someone to put you in your place.”

Oh, he has talked about your place many times before. It’s with me, he will insist, fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come again and again, putting you on your knees and bringing out all the hidden dark and dirty parts of yourself. Come on, he will say, we’re perfect for each other, yeah? You know it. Join my team. Come with me.

You do admit, he respects your keen eye and talent, and he acknowledges your expertise far more than the other people at your gallery. It took a year to even be allowed to do substantial tasks, relegated to fetching everyone’s coffee, getting spoken down to because you were a woman whose ambition was considered a nuisance.

That is not enough to resort to a criminal life. Surely?

But for a moment, you can imagine giving into the darkness permanently. Tonight, it is you that surrenders as he drags you both into the shadows and onto the floor. He takes off his jacket and lays it out, pushing you down face-first onto it. You take a dizzying gulp of air while his hands are occupied, removing his gloves, unbuckling his utility belt.

You wait for the moment he lifts your skirt. His breath catches when he realizes you are not wearing anything underneath.

You yelp because he smacks your ass. You look back at him with as much fury as you can muster in your haze of lust.

“A lady,” he says, grabbing your hips and tugging you back. “Sure.”

“I am,” you say, but your voice is rough, your breathing heavy just from his bare fingers gliding down your wet pussy, the evidence of your desire betraying your claims of propriety.

“Sure, baby girl,” he says, because he knows it annoys you even while it makes you clench. He can see the evidence of that too, swearing as he looks at you, making you feel even more exposed and flustered. “You’re made for me, you know that, sweetheart? Always feel so good on my dick. God.”

“You’re taking your time tonight,” you say dryly. “Getting sentimental? Turning into the slow and gentle type?”

He laughs. Then he grabs you by the neck, pinning you to the floor as he sidles up behind you. The head of his cock presses at your entrance, wet with anticipation.

“You want gentle?” he asks. He is inside you with one deep thrust. “Wrong fucking address.”

The truth is, even when rough, he is careful. Your face never leaves his jacket and he knows where to squeeze and hit and press properly. Bizarrely, ridiculously, you are safe in this criminal’s dangerous hands. The biggest threat they pose are just how skilled and deft they are, making you forget about all of those details as he manhandles you and fucks your worries away.

He wraps a hand around your throat and lifts you. He is still in his mask, still almost entirely clothed except his undone fly. Your skirt is up, your shirt in disarray, your chest and throat exposed to his hands. You can hear him panting into his mask, your own breath as wild until he steals it. You clench around him, making a weak, ragged sound as he chokes you and pounds into you.

“You’re not gonna come like this, are ya?” he taunts, because he knows your body well, can feel you are the on verge just from his angles and rhythm. “Tsk,” he says. “That’s not very lady-like.”

You would tell him to shut up, but you can only manage a weepy moan as he drives you over the edge of a mind-numbing orgasm. You feel drenched, dripping down your thighs, and he still doesn’t relent, pushing you back down and holding your hips as he drills through every sensitive nerve.

“Fuck,” you say, twisting your fingers around his jacket. Your knees will probably be bruised after this. No short skirts or everyone will know something happened. Would they guess you let the most notorious burglar in the country arch your back and fuck you on the floor? Probably not. You have always been a stickler for rules.

Until this. Until him.

“Chan,” you say, breathless, rasping. “Chan.”

“Fuck,” he says. Then the weight of him is on your back, his hips grinding into yours. His masked face brushes your ear and he speaks in a low voice, “Guess where I’m coming tonight, baby girl.”

Your walls are still fluttering with aftershocks, pulling him deeper at his words. It is not the first time, no. God only knows how long ago that conversation first happened, telling him it was safe, how much you wanted it. Letting him do things you never let anyone else do. Breaking all your rules for him.

“Fuck, Chan,” you say.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps. “That’s who’s fucking you. No one fucks you like I do. God. You can take it. So good.”

You can feel when he comes, his chest vibrating with his groan, the warmth inside you. You slump in his arms, ravaged and sore and not the least bit sorry for it.

You should be. He won this round. You should be furious at him. You should be threatening him. Your usual rapport.

His mask comes off. You hear it hit the floor. Then he is grabbing your jaw and turning your face and kissing you deeply. He holds your throat, not threateningly but possessively. He is kissing you for so long, you almost forget who you are. Then you surface. You look at each other.

“Come with me,” he says.

The haze of lust has vanished. You should be thinking clearly. You fear, for the first time, you are.

You suppose he has stolen everything else, why not you too?

You put your hand in his.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz smut #stray kids smut #valentinesdaystories

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jockbroski34 · 7 months ago

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The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester. Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore. He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school. Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was. He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball. He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys. A lot of guys wished they could be him. I, however, wanted to be with him. Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind. At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle. His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place. His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school. He didn’t come off like the rest of them though. His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks. He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked. Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried. It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin. I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating. The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class. Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him. He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct! I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled. “You always look like you’re off in your own little world. But you still manage to do well. You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.” Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies. Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s. He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed. All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework. He helped clarify things for me thankfully. I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you? That’s his hat, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.” It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today? If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next. I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.” I don’t know why I said that. We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were. I’m also not on the baseball team. Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably long gone anyways. After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat. I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on. Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again. I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s. It’s not like he had lice or anything. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would. Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped. The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping. The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened. My watch skipped a tick. But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked. I had to admit, I looked really good in it. I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league. Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face. A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra. I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out. I must’ve lost track of time. As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason. I never used to make much of an impression on most people. I was quiet and had only a couple friends. Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?” the teacher remarked. Very funny. I always showed up on time. I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right. My body squeezed tight into the desk. I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler. Weird. Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative. I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering. I still felt a couple of their eyes on me. I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room. She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion. She was cute, but definitely out of my league. I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today. Something must be wrong. The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache. I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne. I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch. I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food. Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time. But for some reason, I didn’t really want to? That’s weird for me. I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally. Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name. They were two jocks. I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot. What did they want? I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind. Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym. Wanna come with?” the other jock asked me. Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious? Did these jocks actually think I was one of them? I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed. Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys. My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them. For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before. They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends. I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks? It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad. Thought you were someone else. He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank? He obviously knew my number. Of course he knows who I am. Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks. I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends. You know, my real friends. I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed. Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein. I swear I almost never eat this much. The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself. But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them? I had class soon. But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros. I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them. As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym. I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts. To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine. I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift. It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner. By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class. But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron. At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him. Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself. He could always just get another one, right? I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear. Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that. I shrugged it off. They can stare all they want for all I care. I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen. If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with. But in such a short amount of time? With no prior lifting experience? That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today. All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later? I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period. Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave. I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who? Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy! You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude. Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro. My bad.” I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with. But as I looked at him, I realized something. He was wearing his hat! But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it? “I thought you lost your hat. How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude. One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do. But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up. You’ll impress the ladies.” But I was gay. And I’ve only had this hat for a day. If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine? I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other. Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because we were going to practice? I’ve never played baseball in my life. Nah, that can’t be right. I feel like I’ve swung a bat before… We went into the locker room to change. I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there. Someone else’s was. Someone much stronger and much taller than me. That wasn’t me. It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match. There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron. This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall. I walked closer. “Aaron” walked closer. I moved my hand to feel my face. So did “Aaron”. A dull, confused look appeared on his face. Had I really become him? But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing. Then who am I? Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier? I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name. That’s…Aaron’s? Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married. As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday. I knew my birthday, and it was in January. Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream. It was like I was his twin! Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters. At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed. Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. I realized that this all started when I wore his hat. I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder. My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro? Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me. I think it runs in the blood, you know. You like that, right?” He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head. I nodded. I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection. I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body. At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin. The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together. This is all you ever wanted, right?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him. Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong. But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro. This shit’s the life, dude.” I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that. The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro. I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood. As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen… I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back? During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. I remember.” But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right? I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right? One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game. I’ve never been more proud of you bro.” Aaron patted me on the back. I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it. That year, our baseball team was the best in the state. And I…led our team to a championship? As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real. But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away. Turns out that I was the brother he never had. We were a pair. We complemented each other perfectly. I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school. I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro? That’s gay as shit. And weird. This was my own twin we were talking about. Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too. After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…” Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro! I was just saying how good your hat looks on you. Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother. Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as. Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock. I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic. Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree. But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school. I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this. But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times. I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again. I remembered I kinda struggled with this class. I sat behind my bro as usual. I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework. I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class. When I asked him, he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me. We practically knew everything about each other after all. After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you. Is everything alright? Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro. I think I was just up too late partying the other day. And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.” I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.” Mr. Martin smiled. “I won’t leave you too long. I know you two have your hands full with practice today. Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see. It suits you well, Aiden.” I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left. Mr. Martin was always cool. I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what? I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros. I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways. Probably nothing important. As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school. I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights. All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift. Must run in the blood. After school, I went to practice with Aaron. We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer. We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition. Man, this was the life. I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

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Max Verstappen Shirt

The fans and fellow wags don't like it when she wears the same out fit to a Grand Prix. She doesn't much care

There were quite a few things Max liked about dating an ordinary girl. 1) she had no idea who he was. 2) she had no idea who his friends were. 3) she didn't expect anything from him.

Max could get takeout for them while they watched a movie and she would be happy. He didn't have to take her out to fancy, overpriced restaurants. He didn't have to take her out shopping for a new outfit every time they left the apartment.

Now, Max would have done all if this I'd she asked. But she didn’t ask. She appreciated him the way he was.

It was a little while into their relationship before Max took her to her first Grand Prix. Her outfit was cute and extremely weather appropriate. A cute top and a cute pair of jeans. Max walked her through the paddock with his hand on the small of her back.

When Max won, he ran over to his team, jumping into their arms. And then he was taking his helmet off, replaced it with his hat and walked over to her, kissing her slowly. (It was captured on video, and circulated the Internet for weeks. Every time it came across her feed, she couldn't stop herself from sending it to Max).

At the next Grand Prix she dressed as well as she could. The jeans were the same, but the top was different. Her outfit was both complimented and criticised online.

Not that she saw the criticism. No, all she saw was the video of Max kissing her after his win. Of her wrapping her arms so tight around him as she peppered kisses all over his face beforing giving him maybe the most memorable kiss of his life.

She knew Max had money. She was aware of it every time she flew in his private jet. Every time she stayed in his Monaco apartment. Every time he drove her in his cars. She knew he had money, but she didn't want him buying her stuff.

No, that wasn't the reason she was with him. She wasn't there because he was an F1 driver, because he could buy her everything she ever wanted. She was there because he was a cute, slightly dorky guy that she wanted to spend every waking minute with.

She remembered the first time she wore the same thing twice to a Grand Prix. The outfit was so cute, but it didn't matter how cute it was.

So far, all of the other wags had been so lovely to her. They were kind, but she hadn't been around long enough to really be friends with any of them.

It was Daniels girlfriend that pulled her to one side before the race. The two had spent the most time together out of any of the wags she had met so far (aided by Maxs friendship with Daniel).

"Hey Love," she said, wearing a charming smile as she wrapped her arms around her. "I love the top. Have I seen it before?" Daniels girlfriend asked.

Y/N couldn't help but grin as she looked down at her top. "Thanks!" She grinned. "Found it really cheap, wore it to Monaco," she said.

Daniels girlfriend sucked in a breath. "Well, as a general rule, Wags don't wear the same outfit to two grand prix," she said, her hand on her shoulder. "Not unless they really have to."

The way she said it, she was clearly implying something. But she wasn't the only person thinking it. There were people online saying the same thing.

"Well, nice catching up," Daniels girlfriend said and walked away, leaving her alone.

She couldn't bring herself to look dejected as she walked back to the Red Bull garage. Unlike other Wags, she didn't have the funds for a new outfit every race. Max would have been only too happy to buy her a new outfit for every Grand Prix if she asked.

But she wouldn't ask.

"What's up?" Asked Max as she walked towards him with an unintentional pout on her lips.

She quickly replaced the pout with when she looked up at him. "Nothing," she said. "Just hold me."

Doubt and all kinds of negative feelings consumed her. But she was a fighter and she needed to do something about it.

There are incredible things you can find on Etsy, like This Shirt Right Here. She bought herself one. No, she bought herself five. The first time she turned up wearing one, it was iconic. The second time she went to a Grand Prix wearing one, it was still iconic.

If the wags and the fans had a problem with her wearing the same thing to each Grand Prix, they could suck her dick.

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5sospenguinqueen · 8 months ago

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Team Betrayal | Red Bull! Reader x Platonic! Grid

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N races for Red Bull but when she's caught out drinking another brand, she enacts her revenge until the Grid outs her snitched.

Apologies but this is a female reader.

Warning: Bad writing. I'm not sure what this is but it was prompted between an energy drink dilemma I had the other day.

There is no timeline for this. Make it up.

Main Masterlist.

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Swiping away the sweat that ran down the back of her neck, Y/N grinned at the camera, drinking in the euphoric energy enveloping her on all sides.

"Thank you for joining us after such a long day." The interviewer beamed, pleased to have been able to catch the Red Bull racer before debrief started. "How're you feeling? You look absolutely drenched."

"Yes. Max thought he was funny tipping the entire can of Red Bull over my head. I'll wash my hair three times and still go home smelling of the stuff." Y/N joked, dabbing the drop of sticky liquid rolling down her forehead.

Pleased that the conversation had naturally developed down that path, the interviewer smirked at the camera before turning their attention back to you. "So, you've been driving for Red Bull for 2 years now? Is it safe to say you're also a big fan of the drink?"

She laughed nervously, unsure why such an odd question was being asked after a Grand Prix. Usually the media used this opportunity to ask how she felt about losing/her teammate winning. Again. "Who isn't?" Y/N joked.

Whipping out her phone, the interviewer (dressed in traitorous McLaren orange) thrust it in front of her face. The grin from Y/N's face instantly dropped as she squinted against the blinding sun. Disbelief painted her face.

"Where did you get that? That's actually me!"

"One of your fellow racers provided it earlier." The interviewer informed, tucking away the damning photo of Y/N drinking a can of Monster Energy, dressed in her Red Bull racing suit and attempting to hide her behaviour behind a laughing Lando Norris.

"Who?!"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to say. We promised confidentiality in favour of the photo," teased the interviewer.

"That's my face." Y/N's eyes darkened challengingly. She leaned into the microphone, staring down the camera. "In that case, those boys won't know a moment of peace until I get my answer."

She straightened just as soon after, smile flickering back into place as she heard her name being called. "Oops, I was meant to be in debrief a minute again. Thanks for talking to me. Catch you later!"

"Thank you for your time." The interviewer called after the retreating navy figure. She turned back to the camera. "Ladies and Gentleman, I think it's safe to say that Y/N Y/L/N is as ferocious off the track as she is on it. I don't know about you but I would not want to be a member of the Grid this evening."

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

The interview went viral.

YourUserName this you? (She retweeted with a pic of Lando wearing a Monster Energy hat, a can of Red Bull in hand)

→ LandoNorris no.

User 1 not Lando deliberately lying about his own face

User 2 oh, no. Lando. What have you started?

User 3 not me checking my phone every 2 seconds to see if Y/N has posted after she vowed vengence.

→ Your User Name 👀👀

User 4 don't drag poor Maxie into this. He's always seen drinking Red Bull.

User 5 she never was good enough for the team, hope they drop her after this.

User 6 may as well just go to McLaren with how much time she spends with them.

OscarPiastri just a warning. I can hear her laughing evilly next door.

YourUserName so just to clear a few things up. I have never bought a Monster Energy in my life.

YourUse Name i am always supplied with them by people who are attempting to remain innocent in this scandal.

PierreGASLY yeah, well. My shoes are cleaner than yours so...

→ LandoNorris you sure showed her.

User 7 not the Grid coming for my girl only to end up fighting for their lives.

User 8 coming for his teammate

User 9 not the whole Grid teasing her for betraying Red Bull

User 10 always knew Max didn't like them. This just confirms

YourUserName not you too. You said you had my back

→ Max33Verstappen this is why you didn't get on the podium

Max33Verstappen not my babies?!

→ YourUserName i may not have a podium but I do have your cats.

→ Charles_Leclerc you're making this worse for yourself

→ YourUserName watch out or Leo's next

→ Charles_Leclerc *horrified gasp*

User 11 alex fighting for his innocence.

User 12 the Grid are feeding us tonight.

User 13 what's the odds that they're fighting for their lives in the gc?

User 14 bet they're compiling a list of times they gave her Monster

→ User 15 trying to figure out who might be next

User we found the snitch

User 2 anyone else see Red Bull lurking in the likes?

LandoNorris @ danielricciardo this is why she didn't respond

Max33Verstappen daniel's currently crying.

redbullracing christian said you have a meeting with PR tomorrow.

→ YourUserName crap.

User 3 can we take a moment to appreciate all the Grid content we got this evening?

→ User 4 and look at how quick Y/N's responses were. Boo was ready for them.

→ User 5 what are the odds they were all sitting next to their phones, terrified every time it buzzed

→ lilymhe can confirm.

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13atoms · 8 months ago

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Handsome and a Genius (Spencer Reid x F!Bau!Reader)

Inspired by that one scene in x files where mulder stands like a himbo looking handsome and being the future of beauty. you know the one I mean

Summary: Spencer’s overactive brain draws more attention than it ought to on a case, and you see him in a new light. 3k words.

Contains: hostile witnesses, spencer being clueless (but an absolute babe), friends to lovers. (No offence to Florida im sure it’s very nice, reader is having a bad day, and I am far too British for that kind of heat)

The sticky Florida air had long since plastered your clothes to your skin, leaving you short of breath and with the unpleasant feeling of damp hair against your scalp. The whole team had groaned at the revelation their next case would be in the outskirts of Miami, and as soon as the plane door opened you understood why.

You were hot, and grumpy. The salty, swampy air made you feel disgusting as you approached witness after witness. There was a serial killer operating in and around mobile home parks in the area, with the two most recent murders taking place in Royal Biscayne Trailer Park, both over a week ago. While the rest the team spread out across the other crime scenes, you and your partner had been dispatched to this one.

It was a world away from Quantico: sun-bleached, dense, full of plastic and palms instead of concrete and maples. Nonetheless, the principles remained the same no matter where you were. Take everything in, speak to everyone, suspect everyone. Stepping in and out of trailers gave you very little relief from the heat, although respite from the sun pounding down on you was a welcome break.

Dr Spencer Reid stood a short distance away, shielding his eyes with his hand as he contemplated the sea of trailers around him. He’d stared around as you drove into the park, something faraway in his eyes as he memorised every detail from the safety of the SUV.

Now he stood close to you, heads inches apart as he whispered so that only you could hear. He faced one way, you the other, and you could focus on his words knowing that Spencer was watching your back.

“These things all come equipped with the same locks, at least each model does. If you recognise the trailer home, you know how to pick it. It’s fairly trivial, for someone with some basic industry knowledge.”

You hummed through pursed lips, surveying the small crowd who had gathered to gawk at a pair of FBI officers on their turf.

“And that would be true of all of the trailer parks… we know he’s got a common MO.”

“Exactly.”

“You reckon someone in the industry, then? A salesman? Maintenance guy?”

Spencer rolled his neck, stared up at the sky for a moment. His curls were long at the moment, damp at the name of his neck, a little frizzy in the humidity.

“Not necessarily.”

“It’s quite specific,” you agreed, “anyone operating as a common thief around here would have the knowledge too. We could be talking about a classic escalation – burglar to home invader to murderer?”

His eyes snapped from you to his phone.

“I’ve asked Garcia to check out any patterns in robberies, home invasions… the locks are hardly scratched. We know he wears gloves, cleans his tools. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

You nodded, surveying the street again. The sun was glinting off of white plastic, making you squint. You worried for Spencer, the heat and the light wouldn’t be doing his headaches any good.

“You want me to take that?” Spencer was saying, and you snapped your attention in the direction he was gestured.

There was middle-aged man a little way forward of the crowd, shoulders hunched, hands entwined. Nervous. He had the tan of someone who lived here year-round, not a big believer in suncream, with tanlines when he removed his hat and glasses to speak to you.

“I’ve got it,” you murmured, and Spencer nodded.

It was an unspoken part of your partnership, that Spencer liked when you started conversations with witnesses. You liked that he trusted you, trusted your skills, never questioned whether you’d done the right thing when you spoke to people.

Instead he remained a short distance away, climbing up the front steps of someone’s home for a higher vantage point to survey the place.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. You said you’re with the FBI?”

The man had a tip, and it was an interesting one. A rumour spread throughout the HOA about someone trying the locks at night, the sound of metal against the doorways, silhouettes against frosted glass. A few people even had security camera footage, though nothing identifiable. It was great. You gave him your card, told him to get the footage to you asap.

It must be terrifying, you realised, to hear that kind of noise in the night. To be so close to danger, after a neighbour had been killed. The local sheriff’s department seemed frustrated by the interest the case was garnering – frankly you were amazed the story wasn’t bigger. There was no small amount of comforting involved in the conversation you had with the witness, and soon enough a few more people stepped forwards from the crowd. All seemed middle-aged, likely transplants to the sunshine state, and equally shaken.

When everyone’s stories had finished, they stood in silence for a moment. You frowned, noticing their gazes slightly misaligned.

Spencer.

He was stood at your shoulder, sharp gaze flickering across each face of the gathered residents.

“This is my colleague, Dr Reid. A few of you have already met, I believe.”

“You know,” he began, “the socio-economic factors influencing the way we think about crime in mobile home communities are fascinating. Often trailer parks are stereotyped negatively in the media, and because they are generally cheaper to live in than traditional housing estates, and that can foster a sense of shame or isolation for residents. Transient populations can also make community policing and security difficult, and anomalies in the patterns of everyday life become more difficult for people to subconsciously spot.”

You held your breath, and tried not to look worried at the reaction of the small crowd. Instead, you focused on Spencer. He was speaking with his hands a lot today.

“But I think the assumptions we tend to make about trailer parks completely overlook the very nature of living so close to your neighbours. There is a sense of community in living so closely, as evidenced by the conversations we’ve been having today. I’m not sure whether the killer understands that, or is exploiting the former theory that places like this allow for more deviations from the way we implement traditional security in communities. An unsub might hold some sort of resentment towards trailer parks, or some specific resident in his past, or perhaps he’s simply exploiting how incredibly easy it is to simply walk up to a mobile home and slip the lock open with a humble mass-produced lock pick.”

He was greeted with a sea of blank faces, littered with the occasional frown. Finally he looked to you. You caught the furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders hunched into himself, the clutching of his elbows to his body.

Oh, Spencer.

“That’s really interesting!” you tried to say, but Spencer was already backing away.

“Anyway, I’ll, um, leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Dr Reid,” you called after him, as he fled, disappearing into the shade of a nearby trailer.

Your heart ached for him a bit, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you had a sea of potentially offended retirees to keep on side.

“God, what I’d give for a brain like that,” your witness laughed, his linen shirt straining under the movement.

You couldn’t help smiling, a little relieved the tension had broken.

“It’s not often someone has a face like that and a good head on their shoulders,” one of the older ladies piped up.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder at Spencer, his profile sharp as he looked down the road, deep in thought.

“He’s certainly a rare breed,” you agreed fondly.

A number of the crowd were following your gaze, and someone in you wanted to snap them out of it. Stop them from staring.

“He actually has an eidetic memory. Once he’s seen or heard something, he remembers it perfectly, forever. It’s incredible.”

“Oh, my goodness! I can hardly remember my own email password!”

“I wouldn’t mind if he hung around me and talked like that all day, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. Though perhaps he could use a haircut…”

There was a chorus of agreement and various coo-ing which seemed to occupy the entire scale from grandmotherly to entirely inappropriate. You couldn’t help staring at Spencer a moment longer, wondering if he was truly oblivious, or simply pretending to be.

A rare breed.

You were certain you’d never met anyone else like him. Certain you felt like a better version of yourself in his company. That you’d trust him with your life, that you searched every room you entered until you saw him. Watched the elevator doors each time they opened, all morning, until Spencer walked in.

You were certain you’d felt giddy the first time Spencer insisted the two of you would work together, alone.

“Imagine knowing that he’d remember everything, forever…” one of the women was saying, her eyebrows raised in a way you didn’t particularly enjoy.

You cleared your throat, and hooked one hand over the badge at your waist.

“Unless anyone has any further leads, we’d better be on our way…”

The group silenced, and watched you dutifully. You passed out a few more cards, reiterated how dedicated the team was to stopping this killer, and gave out a few promises that there would be a police presence after dark throughout the trailer park.

When the request for any further questions was met with more glances towards Spencer, you thanked your witness, and made a beeline for the car. After only a few seconds Spencer was beside you, jogging to catch up.

“All done?” he asked, and you smiled at the question.

“I think so.”

You started the engine and both waited with the doors open for the car to cool down. The department’s penchant for black SUVs was not helpful when the sun was so vicious. Feeling the heat themselves, the group of residents had dispersed into a few groups, wandering into one another’s homes to continue gossiping.

“God, I’m disgusting,” you lamented, “sorry for the sweat-smell. I might actually take a cold shower when we get to the hotel.”

Spencer was already waving you off, leaning into the car to mess with the AC. Through the open door you saw him groan at the heat, swiping a curl from his face.

“I’m afraid to raise my arms. It’s so humid, I’m not sure why anyone would retire here. High humidity aggravates a number of chronic conditions, especially respiratory ones, which are common in older people. Not to mention the skin cancer…”

“And it ruins your hair,” you teased.

Spencer faked a gasp, and reached for a damp, limp section of his hair.

“I mean, look at it!”

You laughed, and rolled your eyes at him, nothing but fondness settling warm and tight in your chest.

Surveying the road in front of you for one final time you saw a few curtain-twitchers, but no new faces. You climbed into the car, wincing at the heat. The seatbelt buckle was burning hot, and you swore as it burned your fingers.

“I always forget about that,” you grumbled, slamming the car door closed.

“You know, if you fasten your seatbelt after you get out, it stops the metal getting hot and burning you,” Reid offered, and you rolled your eyes at him again.

“Gosh, doesn’t it get exhausting being right about everything?”

Spencer went quiet, and all you heard was the click of his own belt. After a few moments the car was cool and bearable, and your lungs felt like they could finally move again. The sat-nav happily talked away, and you started stealing worried looks at your partner once you’d returned to properly-maintained roads.

“What you said out there was really good, do you mind if we go over it again once we get to the station? I think it’s worth exploring.”

“I shouldn’t have said it in front of them.”

He was right, but you didn’t have to heart to say anything. That was the thing which made your heart twinge about Spencer – he was so insecure, and yet so self-aware, it was the worst of both worlds. Being an expert in body language was a double-edged sword.

“I don’t think they minded. Did you hear those old ladies talking about your big brain?”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He turned himself towards the window, curled up with his hand beneath his jaw.

“They were very impressed. So was I, for what it’s worth. I think we’ll make some really good progress on this profile tonight.”

He hummed agreement. Watched a vista of blurred blue and green and white going past the window. The radio was turned down to a low hum, you could hardly hear it. Silence pierced its way through and sound of mumbled songs and road noise.

“Are you okay?” you asked finally.

“I’m okay.”

You sighed. Tapped the steering wheel. Sped a little to get through an intersection on amber.

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin that for you I just… sometimes I think of things and it’s like I have to tell you.

“Spencer I’m not mad at you! Not at all! I think we’re both just tired, and too warm…”

He didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, I was worried you’d heard what those ladies were saying about you and gotten upset. It was inappropriate of them…”

“I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”

Your gaze was focused on the road, but you met Spencer’s eye in the rear-view mirror as he watched your face.

“Just that you were a handsome young man. And that they wanted you to get a haircut, which I firmly disagree with…” you teased.

Spencer touched his hair self-consciously. He was still quite curled up, leaning away from you despite his interest in the conversation.

“That’s nice of them, I suppose.”

“‘Nice’ is an interesting way of putting it, but I’m glad you’re not upset about it.”

“When I was a kid, I read a book at the library about how to tell if you’re attractive. It was for women, all about makeup and stuff, but there was a section about what made guys hot. I could never figure it out, I just always thought I looked like an alien.”

The sudden change made you sit up straight, heart in your mouth as you rolled to a stop behind a queue of traffic.

“I think everyone feels like that sometimes. Being a teenager is really hard.”

“I… yeah. I suppose so.”

“I always felt so jealous of the people who walked around looking perfect every day, confident that they were not. It just never came naturally to me.”

“Really? I assumed you were one of those girls in school who I’d be too afraid to talk to.”

You scoffed, and for a moment were struck by how little you really knew about one another. The way Spencer looked at you, looked it everyone, it felt as though he had an x-ray into every tiny detail of your life. How could he know, though?

“Of course not,” you laughed nervously.

You weren’t sure if you’d prefer Spencer knew the truth, or kept believing whatever he’d made up ini his head. You weren’t sure what any of this conversation meant. Traffic was moving. The precinct was two turns away.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

He was teasing you. Finally he leant back in his seat, shoulders square to it, legs stretched out in the passenger footwell.

“Either way, I’m glad you can talk to me now. I’d miss it if you didn’t.”

“You might be the only person on this planet with that opinion.”

You took a moment to glance across the car at him, and caught a flash of a smile. He was joking. You released tension from your shoulders you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a handsome genius, just like Barbara said.”

“Her name was Barbara?” Reid laughed.

You shrugged, and took the final turn into the precinct parking lot.

“I’ve got no idea.”

Even with the SUV in park, the aircon no longer blasting away, neither of you moved. Not for a moment, at least. A moment of peace before the chaos all began again. Just the two of you. Wherever you were, with Spencer was your favourite place to be.

“You’re the same, you know. A genius. And handsome…”

You frowned.

“Pretty! Beautiful. You know what I mean.”

“Handsome?”

In truth, you didn’t care about the words. Not at all. Not when your heart was pounding at the realisation Spencer had his gaze fixed on your lips, his eyes soft and pupils blown wide.

“Beautiful,” Spencer repeated, “You know, in a lot of languages, handsome can be translated for men and women. The word itself doesn’t have a gender. Guapa, for example, in Spanish…”

You let him talk, on and on. You decided you wouldn’t kiss him yet, while your hair was matted in sweat and Spencer’s face was brushed with sunburn and embarrassment.

“Bella is more popular in South America, though, or bonita. My favourite is Japanese, though. Kirei. To be beautiful both inside and out…”

Only a few more moments passed before Morgan arrived and banged on the glass with a wide grin and a sweat-beaded brow, announcing a break in the case. You were sorry for the interruption.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #fluff #fic #13atoms #im so sorry if this is ooc

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lqvesoph · 8 months ago

Text

She’s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: Quali day in Melbourne also means some secrets are being spilled…

part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5

masterlist | taglist

Part 3

The flight to Melbourne was only about three hours. Three hours that Daniel spent sleeping while Lando and you talked about god and the world.

He told you a lot about his family, his parents and siblings and his two little nieces. Your heart swelled a little at the pictures of him holding the two girls on vacation last summer.

You glanced over at Daniel and then turned your gaze to the British boy next to you.

"So, I was thinking-"

"So, about today morning-"

The two of you started at the same time, chuckling and looking down. "You go first", you quickly said, wanting to hear what Lando had to say first.

"About this morning, I… I really like you. I feel like I know you, which is pretty strange considering the fact we haven’t known each other that long. But I wanna get to know you more because… I really like you", he spoke, shyly glancing at you, only to find you smiling at him.

"I would love that, Lando", you smiled, reaching to grab his hand and interwind your fingers. "Can we please keep it low when people are around though? Because I really need to tell Oscar first before he finds out from stupid gossip pages and I don’t think his home race is the place to tell him that I’m dating his teammate", you chuckled at the last sentence.

Lando nodded in understanding and pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. "That’s totally fine by me", he smiled, dropping your interlaced hands back into your lap.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"What on earth are you doing here??", your best friend called when he spotted you lingering in the back of the Mclaren garage. He quickly signaled his engineer that he’d be back shortly before walking over to you.

"You’re not even wearing any sort of Red Bull colour", Oscar stated after he looked you over once, mustering the white summer dress and lack of Red Bull hat.

"C’mon, I can’t go ‘round parading Red Bull as an Australian at the Australian Grand Prix, especially not when my best friend who’s also Australian drives for a different team", you chuckled, your eyes finding Lando’s for a second who still stood in front of the computer, looking at data along with his engineer. He sent you one of his adorable little smiles before shifting his attention back to work.

"I think this is honestly the first time you’ve ever stood inside here for more than 5 seconds and without me forcing you", Oscar chuckled.

Before Oscar could drag you to his side of the garage, Lando showed up behind him, a wide grin on his face.

"And who do we have here, Red Bull’s princess in papaya", he smirked. Your smile immediately brightening at the sound of his voice. "Well we’re not as far as me actually being IN papaya, I’m colour neutral today", you replied, making Lando raise his eyebrows before pulling his Mclaren hat off and pushing it down on your hair in a quick motion.

"Heyy!", you protested with a giggle and tried to slap his arm away. "That looks way better, wouldn’t you say Oscar?", the brit laughed and turned to his teammate, whose invisible question mark was getting bigger and bigger.

Thankfully his race engineer called him back before he could pose any of his million questions. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t still keep his eyes on the two of you, catching the gentle squeeze Lando gave your hand, that held on longer than necessary.

📍Melbourne, Australia

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, ybsf

yn.adams: Feels great to be back in Australia and especially at Albert Park!! Quali up next🏎️

comments:

landonorris: Loads of papaya right here🧡

> landonorris: Even a papaya sunset🤭

> fan: How did he convert her over to McLaren???

> fan: That d must me hella good if she’s willing to change teams…

oscarpiastri: How am I only posted once???

> fan: Oscar asking the important questions!!

> fan: Fr tho how did she post Lando 3x??

danielricciardo: I’m sorry, is that papaya I see there??

kellypiquet: You look absolutely gorgeous!!

> yn.adams: Luv uuuu

ybsf: THE BEACH PICTURE!!

liked by landonorris

fan: That’s a lot of papaya for you, miss🤨

fan: Posting Lando 3x in one post…

fan: Daniel with the truck LMAOOO

fan: Not a single photo from the Red Bull/RB garange🫣

> fan: Lando be turning her into a Mclaren fan

load more comments…

*~**~*

Your heart swelled with pride when you saw Lando jump up to P4 on the leader board, your smile just slightly getting bigger. You clapped your hands a few times, celebrating Max’s pole with the other crew members but secretly also Lando’s good starting position for the race tomorrow.

You quietly hushed out of the garage to walk down the paddock to Mclaren, waiting for Lando to arrive.

"Heyy!", he called with a laugh. You giggled and opened your arms for him. His curls were slightly damp from the sweat but you pushed your fingers through them anyway as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"I’m proud of you!", you muttered for only him to hear and felt him smile and squeezed your hip. "Thank you", he smiled and pulled back.

"You wanna come inside?", Lando then asked, nodding towards the papaya hospitality. You hesitated for a second but nodded and resisted the urge to grab the driver’s hand.

He smiled for a few pictures and waved at fans before opening the door for you.

"Lando, debrief is at 6", Jon reminded Lando before said boy grabbed your hand and dragged you towards his driver room.

He pushed the door shut behind you and unzipped his orange race suit, the black fireproof coming to show.

"These are so hot", you muttered, letting your intrusive thoughts take over as you trailed your fingers along his chest. Lando chuckled and pulled you closer by the waist. "You wanna take ‘em off?", he joked teasingly but the glint in his eyes told you he really wouldn’t mind if you did.

You chuckled and pulled his lips on yours, his tongue finding its way into your mouth shortly after. Lando pushed you back until the back of your knees hit the couch and he let you down on his carefully, all while letting his hands roam up and down your body.

You whined when he sucked the gentle skin on your neck, his hand coming to rest on the back of your thigh. You put your hands on either side of his face and pulled him back up so your lips could touch again.

"Lando, have you seen- oh wow, that’s why you didn’t come to congratulate me!"

The door opened, making you push Lando away from you and scrambling up to sit straight on the couch.

Oscar stood in the doorway, putting his hands on his hips. "Respect, mate. I didn’t think you’d be brave enough", he said, turning his gaze to Lando.

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that your best friend would keep his mouth shut.

"Huh?", Lando asked, a confused expression gracing his face. "Just because Mark has always been against his daughter dating drivers, I mean I tried when I first met her but respect mate", Oscar kept talking, now crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Mark?", Lando questioned, his confusion growing as the seconds passed. You silently begged Oscar to finally quit talking but he didn’t catch on.

"Mark, her dad? Mark Webber", Oscar explained, now confused as well.

"Your dad is Mark Webber?", Lando called, turning his head to you.

Just then your phone chimed with a new message.

dad: What’s going on with you and Lando?

taglist

please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist or text me if you want to be taken off x

@champagneproblems17 @meko-mt @scopeiguess @bwormie @d3kstar @c-losur3 @lupitakapro @endlesssummer10 @sheslikeacurse @im-a-ghost666 @m0cha-bunny @claudiajacobs @noncannonships @light-23 @impossibleapricotlampbat @somewherewedontknow @asfaraslifegets @spookystitchery @brune77e @alilstressyandlotdepressy @berrnuu @leclercdream @urfavsgf @neodeliightt @eiffel-hood @tbsloneely @maplesyrupsainz @amalies-stuff @bicchaan @planet-faerie @landorris @soleilgrec @nikfigueiredo @basicchelsea @sarahkaliii @charlesgirl16 @phantomxoxo @lilipiggytails @honethatty12 @bingussthirdtoe @chasing-liberosis @jerricrojane @everbizzare @wherethefuckisthething @sltwins @nixisracing @a-beaverhausen @annie115 @harrysdimple05

#lando norris #mclaren #f1 #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #landoscar #dando #landan #mark webber #ln4 #quadrant #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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