#i gues this is the feel-good pick

[sami-uso]

How could Sami beat Gunther but not Drew yet JEY beat Drew

[trafficpan-ic]

The people that I think that care about me and most of all my mental health maybe don't care. But at least i have still my junk journalling!!! Happy pills for real

[moonstruckme]

heya!! i was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where r stopped smoking..? i’m 6 months clean from smoking nicotine and i haven’t told anyone (you’re the first!! lmao) just incase i break from a stressful day and so i don’t disappoint!! could you maybe write that into the drabble or whatever you do..? tysm if you do, and if you don’t then no worries!!

i love you mae and make sure to take care of yourself and keep being you!!!!

thanks for requesting gorgeous, i really hope you're doing well!! proud of you <3

cw: smoking, reader deals with addiction

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 936 words

Remus smells like cigarettes. He’s stopped smoking anywhere near you, but you’re sure if you look out the front door you’ll see the telltale smear of ash smashed into the sidewalk from where he’d stamped one out on the way in. The aroma brings longing and self-loathing, the former more potent than the latter, and you find yourself breathing in the fibers of his sweater for a whiff of it. 

Remus doesn’t catch onto the true motivation for your proximity. He takes it for cuddling, adjusting his hold on his book so he can read with one hand while the other wraps around your shoulders, encouraging you closer to his side. Underneath the heady smell of lingering smoke he smells like himself, like cinnamon and oranges, and you try to focus on that as your better sense fogs over and your fingers start itching for a cig. 

“Aha!” Sirius slaps his last card down on the table. 

James blows out a flabbergasted breath, leaning back on his hands on the floor. They’re playing some kids’ card game Remus learned in primary school and unwisely taught them. At first you’d all gotten into it, but after Sirius nearly took your head off for forgetting the rules and playing with two hands (“Sorry, gorgeous, you know I don’t mean anything I say when I’m trying to win…and I could have won, couldn’t I? No, I’m just saying, it’s about the principle—”) you and Remus had bowed out. James and Sirius have retained their obsession for days, each keeping a scoreboard in their own heads that seems to hold them in favor. 

“Angel?” 

You look up, meeting James’ knowing gaze. “Hm?” 

“He asked if you’re getting hungry for dinner,” Remus clues you in, toying with the ends of your hair. 

“Oh, sorry. Um…” You think hard. One of the more irritating things about quitting smoking is that now your appetite never seems to fully die down. You’re ready for your next meal all day long, and so you actually have to think about whether it makes sense for you to have it. “I had some carrots just after I got home, so I could eat whenever you want to.” 

“Alright…” 

You take another deep inhale, telling yourself it’s because Remus smells nice and losing your grasp on self-control all the while. 

“Are you tired?” Remus asks, and you don’t know how you didn’t notice it before, that extra bit of roughness that his voice takes on after he’s been smoking. You’re so envious you could die. “You seem distracted.” 

“I’m good,” you murmur. Though perhaps it’d be better if you did take a nap or something. You’re beginning to feel twitchy. You take in a breath through your nose like you’ve been practicing, letting it out through your mouth. 

“Ah.” Sirius scoots closer to you, laying his cheek on the couch cushion. “You want to have a piece of your gum, sweet thing?” 

You look at him guiltily. Remus makes a soft sound of realization. 

“You’re picking your nails,” Sirius explains, and you look down to see that you are. “I imagine that means you’re craving one.” 

It’s simultaneously sweet and irksome that none of your boyfriends will even say the word cigarette around you anymore. They’re trying to be considerate, you know, but it feels like they think your self-control is so tenuous that just one word could shatter it. You don’t have the heart to tell them. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, getting the pack of gum out of your pocket. Just the act of unwrapping a stick makes you feel instantly better. “I guess I was thinking I wouldn’t need it anymore.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” James says lightly. “I don’t imagine it’s easy, sweetheart, you shouldn’t feel bad about using something to cope. It’s not like having gum hurts anything.” 

You hum, then turn to Remus sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, do you think you might be able to change?” He looks confused. “Your sweater smells like cigarettes,” you explain. 

James gasps as though scandalized and Remus swears, grabbing the neckline of his sweater and tugging it off. He tosses it into the hall. 

“M’sorry, dove.” He takes your head between his hands, mushing a kiss into your hair. He’s now bare-chested, and you laugh at the dramatics, totally unexpected from him. “I didn’t realize. Is it better now?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

He drops another kiss on your head, remorseful. “Alright, I’ll go grab something else to wear,” he says, starting to stand. Both Sirius and James protest loudly. 

“I think what you’re wearing now looks great,” says James. 

“Yeah,” Sirius seconds, “stay in that.” 

Remus looks down at his shirtless torso, raising an eyebrow at the other boys. You can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“Come on, it’s not like the fucking Pope’s coming over,” Sirius says, looking well below your boyfriend’s eyes with unabashed enthusiasm. “Tell him, gorgeous.” 

Remus turns his gaze on you. You curl in on yourself slightly, shrugging your shoulders. “This is the best distraction I’ve had all day,” you say quietly, and James’ laughter booms off the walls. 

“Fair enough.” Remus rolls his eyes, grinning as he sits back down on the couch beside you. You get comfy like you were against his side, now smelling only him. He drapes his arm across your back, settling a hand on your hip. “The lows I stoop to for you, hm?” 

“If you’re not up to the task,” Sirius says, “just say the word. I’d be happy to take her off your hands.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus says, and tugs you closer.

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 6)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

antinal reference ;)

A/N: to make up for being MIA (and that this sunday might be another miss) here's a double update. enjoy.

P6 - pre-workout for jet-lag

You still found it odd to call Australia home.

You had mixed feelings about the country stamped across the front page of your passport. Your auntie had been the one to organise the papers so that Australian would be your identification. Never mind the hospital bed in Monaco that you were birthed. Or that you were first words were in Arabic. 

Still, your travelling auntie’s own experiences meant that when you came into her care, she would raise you Australian. Never mind any of the other stuff. 

So, when you walked into the house in Melbourne, you were met with an Egyptian lady playing French music, dressed in a Korean football jersey, cooking Greek food. Such was the life of a nomadic English teacher that was your aunt Nadia. Dia for short.

“Ah, it's you." She sat, spying you hauling the suitcase through the door. She looked at the clock by the fridge and then frowned. "You weren't supposed to land yet."

"I landed an hour ago." You said. She looked at the clock again and took it off the fridge. She banged it with one hand and then shook her head, muttering under breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you take an Uber?"

"No. Oscar gave me a lift." Well, technically his father had driven the car.

Oscar’s parents were apparently super excited to meet you and gushed all through the way about how glad they were that their son had you to help him through F1. They had even insisted on dinner but Oscar knew you had stayed up - you had made him do the same thing as you - and thankfully postponed it for a breakfast tomorrow after you both got to finally got to sleep. 

Upon leaving Jeddah, you had looked at the flight times and decided to overdose the 400mg of pre-workout and strategically placeyour workout just before leaving the hotel so that you and Oscar could both avoid the jet-lag many other F1 personnel were struggling with.

So far, it was on track to working. You just needed to push through a few more hours. To do so, Oscar was going to watch the footy. You were going to watch football.

“Ah, this young Oscar." Your aunt was nodding. "I like him. He has a trusting face.” She laughed at you, doing nothing to help but continue to watch you clamber into the well-loved and mis-matched dining furniture in her kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Tired.” You said, checking the time. It was 5pm but you were ready to knock out. Just a few more hours. You willed yourself to push through and avoid the jet-lag.

“Did you eat?”

You hadn’t. You never ate airplane food. 

The silence was answer enough as your auntie plated up some gyros for you. The smells of the seasoned meat filled your nose and your stomach rumbled at the site of it. You picked up your fork, ignoring the bread for the sake of your cut but helping yourself to tzatziki. 

"What's with the Korean jersey." You couldn't help but ask. You watched your auntie's back with CHO GUE-SUNG.

"Oh, he's such a handsome man. So polite too. I met him when I was teaching abroad in Seoul."

You opened your mouth but closed it. Your auntie lived a very unbelievable life at the best of times.

"He was nice. Nice face. Good hair. You should date him." Dia said as if she was commenting about the weather and you rolled your eyes, chewing through the food. She gave you a look. "Better a footballer than a driver."

You gave her a look. She never did like Danny. Much less you two together.

"Speaking of footballers, your uncle called. Went on and on in Italian about how your talents are wasted with cars and you should come to a real sport."

You snorted hearing this. Your uncle's work in football (not soccer, football) and your line of expertise had some people baffled that you hadn't joined him. Only the select few who knew your mother understood just why that was.

Still, every month your uncle sighed at the wasted talent! that you, a world class performance trainer! was stuck making coffee! for some fancy drivers!

Save that your uncle would add in a few choice Italian expletives in the mix.

"So, the usual?" You concluded.

"The usual." Dia nodded. She came to sit down in front of you. Pulling out her phone, she began showing you pictures of her recent teaching stint in South Korea. Your aunt had been there for about six months, working at an international school. And befriending Korean football players apparently.

“I thought you were teaching in Paris.” You said between mouthfuls of seasoned meat. 

“That was before.” Dia waved a dismissive hand. She dropped her phone and then stood up to pull out two wine glasses. Your aunt gave you a look and you shook your head. She put one back with a roll of her eye. “Wine is good for you.”

“I’m already taking resveratrol.” You said. “And I’m on a cut.”

“That’s why no bread.” Dialooked down at the plate full of untouched pita bread. She was well aware of your health habits. “Actually, I went to Egypt recently! Ah!” She went to the cupboard above the microwave and pulled out a shoebox full of small boxes. You knew immediately what it was. Bringing the shoebox to the table, Dia began pulling out various medicines she had brought from Egypt. 

“You will need this for your travels.”

“I have all of this.”

“Do you have Antinal?”

“Yes.”

“Take some extra." Dia still pushed it to you. "Give it to Charles.”

“I don’t speak to Charles.” You said.

Your aunt huffed and looked up at the ceiling, calling to God. “Ya rab. This fight with Charles needs to stop. Pascale and I are sick of it.” You didn’t comment any further on it. It was, admittedly, quite hard when there were so many other people involved. Pascale and Nadia were best friends. It was how you and Charles had grown up so close. The fact that you were family friends made it hard since Charles had pretty much cut you off. Granted, he was polite and you knew he still greeted your aunt Dia with a kiss on each cheek every time she’d visited Monaco. But still. 

“I will give them to Charles.” She said, taking a box back.

“You do that.” You said as she still pushed one boxes of the yellow medicine in front of you. “Dia, I already have this.”

“For Oscar. Yallah.”

“Anti-diarrhoea pills?"

"Oi, mate. You better be grateful. That shit's a miracle." You said, dropping the yellow box in Oscar's hands as you both walked down the Paddock. You had checked your phone this morning to the beautiful news that you would be working for McLaren today. You texted Oscar the news and the next day he had your coffee order ready in the cupholder of the car he picked up you up in. 

It didn't feel odd. It should've, but it didn't. Maybe it was because you and Oscar had already spent the most of the morning together. You had breakfast with his parents - his dad taking a moment to quietly pull you aside to say thank you for supporting Oscar - and then hit a gym sesh.

In fact, you almost forgot that you and Oscar was supposed to be working in different domains until you both had to get dressed and found him waiting for you outside the Paddock dressed in shorts, a McLaren t-shirt and accompanying brand cap.

It made you look down at your black Hospitality wear and wonder just how things would go if you were wearing the same clothes as him.

Well, for one thing, you would have to wear those ugly ass shoes. You looked down at your feet clad in some Nike Cortez and tried to take that as consolation. You weren't dressed in team uniform but at least that meant you had your shoes.

Still, the oddity of seeing a driver openly interact with the Hospitality staff turned some head as you walked down the Paddock together. You were half tempted to tell Oscar to go ahead but it didn't make sense. You were both going to the same place - the McLaren motorhome.

Oscar, however, was barely paying attention to any of this. No, his attention was still stuck on the medicine you had given him.

"Why do I need," He paused and flipped the box over to read the label that was in English, "Antinal?"

"Because you're travelling around the world more now that you're in F1 and have an additional ten or so race weekends added to your calendar." You explained as Oscar read what minimal English was on the medicine box "And so you're gonna be trying a lot more foreign food. Gotta be prepared, man." You patted him on the shoulders as a form of consolation. Oscar just laughed. 

"I must say, when you texted me that you had got me something, I didn't think it would be this."

"Technically my auntie did." You said before explaining how you would probably needed to purchase another 23kg suitcase from all the things your aunty was adamant you have with you for the rest of the season. Oscar was laughing at the five packets of sunflower seeds your aunt thought was an essential when you clocked it. 

Or, better yet, them. Charles and Carlos.

Both staring at you. And Oscar. 

You felt a jolt rush through you realised. Oscar's latest girlfriend update went to background noise as you took in the two Ferrari drivers stood there.

Carlos was appraising, his head slightly tilted as he clearly was observing the two of you. You could only imagine what he noted.

You. Oscar. Laughter. Gift exchanged. Mention of relatives and close family.

Still, the kind Spaniard's eyes were a lot easy to take in than Charles. 

Charles who was clearly fuming. 

Or, clearly to you. You knew his angry tells. Right fist clenches then unfurls. Left hand runs through hair. Lips are pursed. And then he walks off. 

You watched as Charles said something to Carlos and then turned around to stalk off. You watched his retreating form with forlorn eyes and before you caught Carlos looking at you. The furrow between your brows where you had probably stared longingly after the best friend who left you in the dust immediately fell when you looked at Carlos. 

That was the first time that Charles was actually acknowledging your existence in how long.

You drew your eyes back to Carlos who was still looking at you. You smiled you found yourself even lifting up a hand to wave. You saw his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips lift into a smile. He waved back. Then someone called his name and you saw his cousin and manager appear from the Ferrari motorhome. You turned back to look at Oscar who was still talking, unaware of anything that happened in the past minute.

"... anyway Lily wants to meet you and - "

"Have you copped any shit?" You interrupted Oscar and turned to him. You had both neared the McLaren Motorhome and knew this would be where you both parted ways. 

"Copped shit from who?"

"Other drivers." You specified.

"I mean I haven't really had a chance to speak with them." Oscar said, pursing his lips as if he thought about it. "The Williams guys are nice. Alex is funny."

"Alex is funny." You agreed. You did like Alex. He had a good heart. You would forever be salty at what Red Bull did to him. 

"Lewis said hello, which was nice. Fernando reminded me his career is older than me." You couldn't help but snort at that. Oh, Nando.

"And Lando is... well, Lando." You perfectly understood just what Oscar meant by that. His words, however, also confirmed what you had suspected. None of the 'core' drivers that surrounded Ferrari or Red Bull's circles had come near him. You knew that many of the guys had gone out a few times to celebrate the start of the season and the fact that Oscar had very clearly not been invited was, well, getting to you.

Especially since you were 99.9% sure you were the reason why. 

You stared at the young Australian boy in front of you and felt two things wash over you. 

The first was sadness.

A lame word but there was no other way to describe it. Infuriated, annoyed, hurt - sure. But you were also just sad. Sad that this was your life and that anyone close to you still managed to get tainted by the things you were forced to lug around yourself. 

The second was fondness.

The boy was young and innocent but carried himself with wisdom and dignity beyond his mere 20 years. And his dry ass sarcasm was a special type of humour you missed having around you. He was caring, loyal and an overall good sport. Having Oscar around made you realise how long it has been since you've laughed. He drove you the airport, bought you food and stayed up to watch old FRIENDS reruns after finding out Daniel Ricciardo had cornered you in the gym. 

"Your love language is quality time." Was his reasoning when he had arrived at your hotel room. And so he ordered some KFC and got comfortable in your hotel room to watch Chandler and Joey forget Ross' baby on a bus. You knew Oscar didn't like sit-coms -- it was a recurring argument -- but he watched five episodes that night after you had texted him feeling panicked and needing help when Daniel arrived drunk at the gym.

In short, in that moment, you were suddenly hyperaware of how much you really, really, really fucking loved Oscar Piastri. 

So maybe that's why you just came out with it. 

"Jos Verstappen has a restraining order against me." 

Oscar blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to say that. You weren't even expecting you to really say it. 

"Come again?"

"Well his wife does." You corrected. "Because the courts wouldn't accept a man of his size him to need protection from little old me." You rubbed your arm, feeling the full vulnerability of what you were doing. You thought of your next words carefully, making sure to not step over the NDA you had signed. "I used to train Max when he was at Torro Rosso and then at Red Bull. I always saw bruises on his arms. One day I..." you huffed, hating that you legally couldn't say what had actually happened. "Well, I ended up beating Jos Verstappen half to death."

Oscar was silent. His face was void of much reaction. He wasn't even looking you in the face but staring at the ground in his pensive state. You were aware that you both had stopped walking and were stood to the side. 

"Is that why you don't officially work as a trainer and had to be all pedantic with training me?" All you could do was nod to his question. Oscar shook his head. "I mean, I've heard the stories about Max and his dad but..." 

Now it was your turn to blink. Once. Twice. You frowned and Oscar finally met your eyes and you were stunned to see the easy going grin on his face once more. It hadn't disappeared. "I can only guess you had to sign an NDA and this isn't the full story. And even if it is, well, it's enough to know you were protecting someone from a -- well, an abuser." 

"I... Yeah. Thanks." You weren't sure what you were thanking him for. For believing you? For not treating you differently? For taking your side when everyone in Formula 1 had dropped you and treated you like a leper?

"Is that why you and Ricciardo fell through?" Oscar asked. It wasn't nosy. You had explained enough to him. It was enough he knew what happened. 

"No Danny, he, uh-." You hated how small your voice sounded. Or that you immediately fell back to his nickname. "He cheated."  

Oscar was silent, waiting for you to continue. And so you did so. You told him everything. From Daniel to Charles to the moment you punched Jos Verstappen in the face.

Carlos Sainz was ready to punch someone in the face.

He sat there at the table, fist curled tight as he tried to calm down from all that he was hearing. It seems like his name would only be an added tag to an otherwise Charles Leclerc fest of a season. Carlos knew, sure, that coming into a Ferrari where his teammate was known as Il Predestinato would mean that he needed to prove himself, put himself in the spotlight and make the Tifosi give him a name like that.

However, as the current race strategy meeting was showing, it seemed like no one in Ferrari was going to give Carlos the chance.

"Now, boys, I have something to discuss with you two." Fred said as people were starting to leave and the meeting seemingly coming to an end. Carlos wanted nothing more than to get up and storm off but he reigned it and listened to the change in Fred's tone.

"What's up?" Charles asked, sitting up.

"Quietly, there was a team principal meeting with Domenicali." Fred said, and this time Carlos sat up also. His anger was momentarily forgotten as his interest piqued. "McLaren have unofficially started working with a girl to train their rookie." Charles was playing with his APM Monaco bracelets, somewhat paying attention. Carlos watched him. There was one particular bracelet he always fiddled with, a small gold chain tucked amidst all the other extravagant pieces.

"She's a Hospitality worker."

Carlos saw how Charles froze. His teammate looked up. Carlos saw the horrified look on his face.

"Quoi?" The French slip was only further proof of something. Carlos's mind raced to make the connection.

The lighbulb went off just before Fred said it.

"She was your friend, non?" Fred said. "Worked with Max Verstappen in Torro Rosso." His eyes flickering over to Carlos. They had been teammates back then.

Charles's years and years of media training went out the window as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Carlos, however, was suddenly thrown back a few years and thinking about just who had caused this whole shitstorm.

You.

Carlos said your name, feeling something swell up in him by saying your name in front of Charles who was your former best friend. Maybe it was ego from the recent meeting, but Carlo wanted to drive the knife in a little deeper.

"She's a very good trainer. I watched her sessions with Verstappen." And that wasn't on showing up Charles; it was the truth. Max's dominance needed to be at least somewhat accredited to you.

"Turns out she is not allowed to work for new teams." Fred spoke. "That means for McLaren to hire her goes against some contract Formula 1 put in place after an incident with Verstappen."

There was a pause. Carlos waited for Charles to say something - to say it. He didn't. So Carlos did.

"She was defending Max." Carlos said, defending you when he thought the silent Monacoan beside him would've. Didn't you two grow up together?

The Verstappen Incident, Carlos was well aware of. However, whatever happened between you and Charles... well, Carlos was out of the loop.

"It doesn't matter." Fred waved. "I'm not here to speak of the drama. But I did have a look. Mattia never told me but she has ties with Ferrari from before - "

"But she's a Hospitality worker!" Charles finally spoke up. "Mattia he-- I spoke to him about her."

"You did?" Fred took that piece in. Carlos wanted to scoff. Clearly Mattia hadn't mentioned that in the hand over notes. "What did Mattia say?" Fred asked.

"Peut-être on peut parler juste nous deux." Charles said, the switch the French reigniting Carlos' anger once more. He forced himself to breathe steadily while Fred nodded. Both men had often tried to keep to English in front of him for the sake of manners and being polite, as opposed to using their mother tongue and making Carlos feel, well, like he felt now. Excluded. Enraged.

Still, Carlos' French skills were okay enough for understand what Charles had said. He stood up and, in French, said. "I'll leave you two." Without looking back, he walked out the motorhome trying to steel himself.

He really wanted to punch something.

Walking a little ways down the Paddock, he took deep breaths and shot a flurry of texts to his dad. He needed his advice on what to do given the way the meeting had gone. It was then that a girl on rollerblades holding the Australian flag zoomed past him and Carlos looked up.

The entertainment at Albert Park never missed. Carlos smiled slightly. Australia was a fun circuit. Not his favourite track by any means but the actual circuit itself had a lot going on that he enjoyed. It was lively, music always pumping and the weather was nice.

Still, the sounds of laughter and the faint dance music that echoed through the Paddock weren't enough to lift his spirits.

And then he saw you.

You were walking with Lando's new teammate, the infamous Oscar something. He hadn't paid much attention to the newbie, hearing something vaguely about Alpine drama from Lando. It all had gone in one ear and out the other.

Now, Carlos saw you walking with him and suddenly he wished he knew more about the kid. Why him? Why were you friends with him? Since when did you have friends? And why risk it all just to train him?

Carlos had always been perfectly polite, nice. Why didn't you laugh with him? Why didn't you reach into your bag to pull out a small box and hand to him as you explained him whatever gift you had brought him? What made this Oscar kid so lucky?

Maybe it was just the Australians seeking out one another? Everyone on the Grid knew you had dated Ricciardo. That had been a painful experience. It was one thing to have pined after you, as Max his teammate's trainer. It was another to see you get swept off your feet by the senior Red Bull driver that everyone adored. Carlos' days at Red Bull sucked since all he did was think about you - and you barely paid him any attention.

Sure, he was now no longer Ricciardo's junior but it still got to him. Daniel Ricciardo had waltzed in and you had gone wide-eyed before Carlos could've even tried.

Because he would've. He really would've. Even before his dad told him who your uncle was. Even before he tried your cooking, your coffee. Even before he knew your name. A young Carlos Sainz had seen a pretty girl walking around in the same Real Madrid kit that he owned at home and immediately wanted to go up to her, to ask her name, to ask her out.

Carlos felt the door behind him open and out came Charles. He looked completely at ease despite what had occurred before. He patted Carlos on the shoulder. And just as he did that, Carlos' phone beeped. His father.

Don't get mad. Just get even on the track.

Carlos pocketed his phone but felt something ignite inside him. He would do that. It wasn't Charles' fault for Ferrari's favouritism. Carlos had to admit the Monégasque was a genuinely nice guy.

"You alright, mate?" Charles asked. "I'm really sorry about before."

"I'm alright. Excited for the race." Carlos said, changing the subject and not mentioning it at all. If anything, he would stay out if it all and just focus on the race, on proving everyone wrong. He take his father's advice and make his own mark in this team.

"Ah, Australia is always special." Charles said.

Despite what his father had said, anger came back within Carlos. It was the same anger he felt towards that Australian kid. And Daniel Ricciardo. And, to an extent, Max.

Carlos was jealous. Not for Charles' favouritism from Ferrari, but the favouritism from you. Charles had you and he'd thrown you out for whatever reason.

Carlos' eyes came back to you and suddenly he couldn't help himself. Sure, he could stay out of all the Ferrari drama but this was you. He couldn't stay out of it when you were right there, walking beside the new kid who didn't know that Charles had essentially banned every driver from interacting with you.

"Yeah?" Carlos spoke before he even realised. "What's so special about Australia?"

The answer was obvious: you.

You were what had been so special. Carlos' days at Torro Rosso meant that he knew about how you felt towards Albert Park, that it was almost like your home race.

For one, you didn't stay at the Crown Casino hotel like the rest of them. No, instead you stayed at your auntie's place by the beach. Carlos knew that from the time he had to drive a passed out Max Verstappen to said home back in 2017.

Charles' smile dropped slightly. Then he brought it back up. "Ah, you know. The sun, the people. There is a special energy here that - "

He stopped talking.

Carlos knew that his teammate had finally spotted you also. Turning his head to look over at Charles, Carlos took in the look of utter rage on his teammate's face.

And then, you looked up. You noticed him. Them. You met his eyes and then you looked at Charles. The McLaren driver was still talking beside you, oblivious to how you had clearly stopped listening to him. Charles took a deep breath.

He stormed off.

Carlos couldn't help but roll his eyes. He didn't know the truth, but Carlos had heard the many rumours as to why Charles had cut you off. He thought they were all rubbish.

Looking back at you, Carlos met your eyes once more and he thought about his options.

He knew that you were in part responsible for training one of the best drivers on the grid. He also knew that it would take a bit of a miracle to help him outperform Charles Leclerc and show Ferrari what was what.

But hey, if this Oscar kid was going to go against the grid's treasured and unspoken rule, why couldn't he?

You really jinxed yourself.

At first, the Australian Grand Prix was off to a great start. Sleeping at home meant that you had more comfortable waking in a bed that was familiar - and not stuck in some isolating three star hotel room that made you question the hotel rating system.

Three stars with suspicious smells coming from the closet? No, thank you.

Instead, you got to wake up to your auntie humming as she prepared her own version of pancakes. It had been a long time since anyone had made pancakes for you. And even though you had breakfast plans with Oscar and his family, you still ate some of her and kissed her goodbye as you went to the circuit.

By car. You drove yourself. In your beloved Supra, the one that had essentially taught you everything you knew about cars (that and Top Gear) were finally united.

And that in itself was a beautiful fucking thing.

There were a small handful of circuits in where you had a car in the country and could actually drive yourself. Australia was one of them. Japan was another. Monaco was the other.

Then again, Monaco was far too crazy to be driving during a race weekend anyway. Still, it was nice to be able to play some calming lo-fi beats as you drove the familiar Lakeside Drive that led up to the street circuit that was built around the lake. Your lake.

You had found yourself a good parking spot and the cafe vendor recognised you and gave you a free latte. Some marshalls walking by were joking about something nonsensical but the banter and accent made you feel warm inside. No matter the complicated feelings that being Australian brought up, you still enjoyed the laid-back attitudes that came with the softened ds and ts.

You had a good gym session, showing progress with your training. You dropped another kilogram off with the cut working well and then you were ready to go to the safe confined of the McLaren motorhome.

And then you saw the message from your co-worker.

Sorry bro. There's been a change in the roster because Mack called in sick. You're going to be covering him at Ferrari for the rest of the race weekend.

You really had jinxed yourself.

< prev ch [5] | next ch [7] >

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[babyisa1]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ chapstick game/ TOM

warnings: smut, pet names: „slut“, p in v, fingering, fluffy beginning but turns into heavy smut, multiple orgasms, overstimulation (with consent)

8:27pm

you entered the living room, finding tom leaning back on the couch in a manspread with a packet of skittles on his lap. „hey!! you didnt tell me you had those!“ you state, his head shooting up to meet your gaze as his hands fly towards the packet, protecting them.

you chuckle softly, walking towards him and slumping down on the couch next to him. „because you always eat the red ones! the red ones are my favorite!“ he replies, throwing his head back and chucking the last few skittles in his mouth.

you jokingly hit his chest, „youre such a fucking baby“ you giggle, toms eyes darting towards yours as he silently repeats what you said, mocking you. „mmf..whats behind your back?“ tom asks as he noshes on his skittles, referring to you having your arms behind you, holding something.

you grin, pulling put a small box of different flavoured chaptsticks that you brought from your shared bedroom. toms eyes gaze at it in confusion, then towards you.

„do you wanna play a game? ill apply a random chapstick, and you have to taste and guess what flavour it is through kissing me“ you explain with a bright smile, tom already having turned the tv off and paying his full attention towards you.

he nods his head vigorously, placing his hands over his eyes so he doesnt see which one you pick. you giggle, hes such a cutie. you randomly choose a chapstick before rubbing it on your lips.

you gently remove toms hands, leaning in to kiss him. you feel his body relaxing as he deepens the kiss, his hand snaking up behind you neck to pull you closer. he tugs your bottom lip, sucking on it sloppily to taste the chapstick.

you finally pull away, leaving tom all flustered as he licks his lips, gazing at you lustfully.

„mmm i like this one.. is it coca cola?“ he says as his eyes wander down your body, your cleavage almost spilling out of your skimpy top. it took all his willpower to not just end the game right there and pin you down, but he stood strong, partly to see how long he could last.

your face lit up, „yes! good job schatz“ you praise, completely unaware of toms growing need that was tightening his pants. tom sends you a proud smirk, his hand sneaking up your soft thigh as he rubs it sensually.

you pick another chaptstick while tom patiently waited with his eyes closed, this time its vanilla. you smear it over your lips before moving closer to him, kissing his warm lips gently.

his hand flies to the back of your neck again, deepening the kiss as he darts his tounge into your mouth, lapping his wettness around yours. the kiss turns sloppy, tom softly groaning into your mouth as his willpower to hold back slowly slips away.

you couldnt ignore the burning feeling between your legs, causing you to let out shaky breaths as you run your hands gently from his shoulders to his biceps. you momentarily remember the game, it having completely left your mind.

you finally pull away, your lips swollen and wet from making out with him. „so tom, whats your gue-”

you were cut off by tom slamming his lips back onto yours, kissing you harshly. „msorry,“ tom muffles in between kisses, „m‘not sure which flavour.. need another taste“

you moan softly into the kiss as tom grabs your ass and swiftly pulls you towards him and onto his lap. you both were clearly happy with moving on from the game, no longer ignoring the throbbing between your legs.

you grind against his crotch, earning a low groan from him as his hands grip your hips, helping you to build your pace. you harshly tug back on his dreads/braids to gain more access to his neck, attacking it with open mouth kisses.

you find his sweet spot just below his ear, sucking on it harshly. „fuuck.. youre driving me insane y/n“ tom mewls, grinding his hips more forcefully up into yours. your lips latch off of his neck with a pop, revealing a dark purple mark.

tom swiftly finds the hem of your tight top, pulling it up over your head to reveal your perky breasts. „what a fucking slut.. no bra hm?“ tom breaths out, his eyes fixated on your nipple piercings. you knew they drove tom absolutely crazy, he would play with them every chance he got since the day you got them pierced.

you smirk lustfully, your jaw quickly hanging low as tom wraps his lips around one of your nipples, using his hand to play with the other. the grinding of your hips doesnt stop and you let out a croaked moan when your panties tug deliciously on your clit.

„mm..so fucking hot“ tom mumbles, his tounge playing with the bud as your head lolls back, a wave of pleasure shooting through you.

his lips detach from your breast as you feel his hot breath against your nipple, swollen and glistening wet in his saliva. you reach for the hem of his shirt, struggling to pull it off him.

tom cuckles at your desperation, it admittedly hardening his buldge even more. he pulls it off him, revealing his toned body, your mouth watering at the sight.

„you like what you see?“ tom taunts, beginning to undo his belt. you nod, lifting yourself slightly so he could slide his pants down, revealing the tent in his boxers. tom groans, the less restraint on his cock clearly having an effect on him. you could tell how sensitive he was.

his fingers hook around your panties, harshly ripping them off. „tom!! those were expe-” „shut up, ill buy you new ones.. fuck“ tom cuts you off, his eyes fixated on your now bare and drenched cunt.

his cold fingers glide through your warm folds, causing you to jolt in reaction. his thumb rubs slow circles against your clit as his fingers prod at your entrance. you whimper slightly, grinding your hips against his fingers clearly seeking more friction.

and to your satisfaction, tom slips two fingers into your hole, his muscle memory kicking in as his fingers curl perfectly against that gummy spot inside of you. you moan, gripping onto his shoulders for stability as he repeatedly thrusts his fingers inside you.

„god.. so fucking tight“ tom breaths out, picking up his pace as the soft squelching noises coming from your cunt become louder. the fire in your stomach increases, and you clench around his fingers signalling you are about to cum. but just as you were about to release, tom retracts his fingers, causing you to snap your eyes open in confusion.

before you could protest, tom pulls down his boxers, freeing his cock as it springs out. although you both have fucked countless times before, you still find yourself impressed with the size and girth of it. your hand could only just about wrap around the base of it, feeling the bulging veins that decorated his whole cock.

your soft fingers reach for the tip, smearing the pre cum that was leaking from it all over his shaft for extra lubrication. toms cock twitched in response, his chest heaving up and down heavily.

you lift yourself, aligning him with your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. his hands fly to your waist, gripping it so tightly that it would for sure leave marks. tom lets out a prolonged groan; „fuuuck..“ he stammers, throwing his head back as he feels your warm walls clench around him.

your ass finally meets his hips, his whole cock dissapearing inside of you. your cheeks flush bright red at the feeling, gripping his shoulders tighter.

after the burning feeling of him stretching you out subsides, you lift yourself up again, before forcefully slamming yourself down on his cock. „jesu- fuck!“ you shout out, building a fast pace.

one thing you loved about tom, was that he didnt try to hide his sounds like most guys. right now he was a whimpering mess beneath you, his eyebrows furrowed as you fucked yourself down on him.

you mixed your bounces with grinding forward slightly, attempting to hit your favorite spot harsher. you let out a highpitched moan, your pace not faltering. tom could feel the heat pooling in his lower back, the erotic sight of you could make him cum on the spot.

tom has always been possesive, only he could see you like this. feel you like this. hear your moans like this. anyone who dared to look your way would feel the consequences, which were toms fist. but you didnt mind, totally the opposite. this turned you on to the max, making him more hot than he already was, if that were even possible.

„fuck! mgonna cum!“ you whimper, your pace becoming inconsistent. tom takes notice of this, helping you bounce on his cock through lifting you slightly with his hands. „me too..shit- dont stop baby“ tom managed to blurt out, your orgasm crashing down on you as you almost scream, your body shuddering. you clenching around his cock sends him into his, shooting ropes of his hot cum into you.

„god- oh fuck“ tom moans, fucking his cum into you while riding out your highs in the process, a ring of cum forming at the base of his cock. just as you thought you could rest, tom pulls you into a tight hug, your chest flush against his as he lifts his lower body of the couch and drills himself into you, chasing another orgasm.

„ugh- too much!“ you stammer, your arms locked in place on your sides as toms grip around you didnt loosen. all you could do was rest your forehead on his shoulder, focusing on the pleasure rather than the pain from the overstimulation.

„cmon baby, just one more“ tom cooes, his hot breath on your ear sending goosebumps up your body.

while thrusting into you, your combined fluids drip out of you and onto his shaft, sticking to his lower abdomen each time he rams his cock upwards, causing wet slapping noises. the pain slowly bled into pleasure, and your moans powered tom to keep his rough pace, despite his legs growing tired.

„cum!“ you manage to shout, the immense pleasure preventing you to build proper sentences as you signal tom that youre about to come undone. once again, toms ecstasy coats your walls, both of your orgasms washing over you.

„fuck- sho good!“ tom mewls, his hips shuddering from the intense pleasure. you collapse on top of him, his cock still inside you. you both lay there breathless, recovering from some of the best sex youve ever had.

tom gently rubs up and down your sides lovingly; „shit,“ he breaths out, „you good baby?“ he asks, stroking your hair out of your face that stuck on it through your sweat.

„yeah.. fuck that was amazing tom“ you sigh out, regaining your composure. tom chuckles, „mhm..that was probably the best fuck weve ever had“ he states, his head leaning back on the sofa as he strokes your hair.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

i lowk love this?? hope u enjoyed :)

edit: tysm for 86 likes wtf?? :0

[icarusredwings]

Scent. 2/2

Didn't know I had to tag for fourth wall breaks, but here it is! Logan has cuteness aggression. SFW, pg-13, Primal scenting, established poolverine, countryside comedy, angst, and fluff. Wade gets smothered in front of the fireplace by a big domestic wolverine because of his self-confidence issues. Mental health issues.

Post Save a horse/Ride a wolverine

Requested by @asaturnerofficial

“It has nothing to do with the makeup.” 

“Then why do you keep taking it off?!” 

“Because you don't need it! And it stinks like high heaven, that crap can not be good for your skin.” 

“My skins already fucked, James, just leave me alone.” 

Still trying to cover his face, Wade whined, frustrated with him and himself for being the way he was. No, it wasn't his fault, but he still felt like shit. His head wasn't nice to him, Logan knew that feeling all too well.  

It didn't take long for him to learn when enough was enough, either. They didn't exactly have a safe word rather than a scent, and a tone he knew meant too much. To back off. And as much as he didn't want to, he did, climbing off of him as he sat, his chin in his hand. 

“So what? You're just going to do this every day for the rest of your life?” He grumbled, also frustrated that Wade's brain was mean to him, and didn't let him see all the beauty that he had. It took him a long time to learn that what other people thought of him didn't matter as long as the ones that cared about him did just that. Cared. 

Letting out a high-pitched groan, He rolled over, covering his head with his hat, grumbling something under his breath. 

“...This is because of what that guy said earlier, isn't it?” he muttered, now crossing his arms. 

“No-” he lied. And Logan knew it was a lie. He could smell it. 

That was the only thing about being with him that made his partners leave, they couldn't slip anything past him and his need to resolve issues (or just straight up leave) made it even more difficult. But he already promised that he wouldn't leave Wade. Not without telling him first, at least. 

“You're a terrible liar. You know that?” 

“So are you...” 

Not in the sense that he couldn't go pick up milk without him freaking out, but if he was gone for more than a couple of days, he'd get a call. And vise versa. Some things they couldn't tell each other for safety reasons. 

‘Where have you been?? You reek of sewer’ 

‘Job.’ Followed by the zipper mouth motion that meant ‘Don't ask details’ 

‘Aahh.. get it done?’ 

‘Always do!’ 

‘Hard?’ 

‘Nah, panic room.’ 

‘Uggh panic rooms.’ 

‘I know, right?’

‘Soooo…’ He'd gesture to him with a finger, questioning about the smell. 

‘You don't wanna know. In fact, I don't even wanna know!’ 

‘Bar?’ 

‘Shower first.’ 

‘Taco place?’ 

‘Taco place.’ 

Oh, he remembered that day. He ordered tacos from that place Wade liked, and after his shower, they ended up on the couch for a while, then went out for the night. It was like that, and honestly, he had no issues with it. He enjoyed being able to just… BE.. with him. They could just be themselves. 

But now Mr. Merc with a mouth, was taking a break from the mercenary stuff. He's been out of his suit more and more. And covering more and more. But why now? Since when did he cover himself up with this junk? He knew Wade did ‘Touch ups with the makeup team’ or whatever he said, but this was just too much. 

Part of him felt like he was losing it too because he wanted to march up to that ‘make up artist’ and slash them in the face for making him feel like his entire face needed to be hidden. Though he couldn't, obviously, because that person didn't exist in the material world rather than being a figment of his boyfriends imagination. 

“...What gets ratings?” He asks, glancing at him, having an idea. 

“What do you mean?” Barely a whimper. 

“Well… ratings are good, right? So.. what do they like?” God, he couldn't believe he was going along with this. He hoped it wouldn't make it worse. 

“Good writing, amazing actors, a good thrill… I guess.. why?” 

Climbing back over him, Logan hovered him with a soft, almost hopeful smirk. “Does this get ratings?” He asked, gently kissing his head, beginning to rub their cheeks together affectionately. “That do anything?” 

Looking at him, His face already heated up, giving him that look that never got old. The ‘Holy shit did you just do that?’ Glance with wide eyes and a goofy grin. “I-it's not that simple. I mean, you got the tech crew, The Sound Team, the-” 

This kiss was slower, humming into it as he took his hand, holding it intertwined with his own fingers, putting it up above his head. Turning his head a little, He nipped at his tongue, chuckling as he pulled away. 

“What about now?” 

“I-i…” And that folks is how you shut up your Deadpool. Manual restarts can do the system some good once in a while. 

“What? Cat got your tongue, Princess?” 

Getting that stare of utter bafflement, he took that as a yes. “Now hold still for me.” 

Quickly, he nods, putting his other arm up too, clearly excited assuming this was going somewhere else, but in reality-   

Leaning down, He began to kiss every little spot on his face, every patch getting it’s own special attention. Instantly, Wade blushed harder, letting out a sound that reminded him of a squeaky toy, trying to push him away. 

“Eeh!! No! I'm still mad at you! You can't kiss your way out of this!” he giggled, but Logan knew he didn't want him to stop and he was starting to smell better already. 

Rubbing his scratchy beard against him, he began to let out a little growl. This happens sometimes. He would get too overwhelmed with his emotions and would become angry, snarling at him with their noses touching. 

Beginning to laugh, He tried to push his head to the side, knowing he would bite him if he didn't get away soon. “No!! Logan, don't eat me!” He now turned his head elsewhere. “The original line was ‘Please Mr wolverine, devour me in cold hard blood.’ But it didn't test well with younger viewers.” 

“Why the hell are younger people watching this to begin with? Go do your homework or Something, ya little brats!” 

“GGASSPP Wolvie, stop it! They already did all their homework!... at least they were supposed to..” 

“Oh yeah? All of them? Even that one!?” He points directly at you. Yeah, you. You know who you are. “If I find out that you're skipping out on your homework to watch some show that's too old for you, why Im gonna-” 

Tapping his shoulder, Logan looked down again at the man trapped underneath him. 

“Is that what that feels like? Being ignored? Because if I remember correctly in this scene, I'm supposed to be the one getting attention, yeah?” 

“Attention? Sorry, Bub, we're all outta that.” He teased, smirking, happy that his scent was starting to be smothered in him instead of that lousy foundation. 

“Actually I believe I had some on back order? I called ahead, you see.” He says, putting his finger up in a matter of fact manner. 

“What, like a reservation?”

“Exactly. Now, if you don't mind-” He turns. 

“And if You don't mind. I'm the star of this show and I say… Action!” 

And that was his cue, Chomping the finger clean off. With a shout and a complaint of ‘That was my good hand!’ a smaller baby finger began to grow back. 

“Jesus, peanut, I know you're hungry, but that's why I came in here in the first place! I was gonna ask what you want for dinner. The next thing I know, i'm being assaulted!” 

“Oh please. You aren't being assaulted… yet.” 

“Yet!? Woah woah woah, Logie, this story is pg-13! We already used up all of our *Beeps* So careful! The studio is gonna be pissed!” 

“... did you just bleep yourself?” 

“No.” 

“Yes you fu-” 

“Beeep!” 

Staring for a moment, Logan blinked. Alright. That settled it. He was off his rocker. All the screws in his head completely gone, not even loose at this point, just straight up missing. 

“...Fu-”

“BEEP!!” 

“Yeah, I'm gonna show you beep. Beep this.” 

Holding his face still, he decided there was only one way to calm down. And it was a last resort. “You know what I want for dinner, Wade?” 

“No. That's why I came to ask.” Oh good lord, there was nothing in that brain of his. Was there? Probably all those damn chemicals - 

“Well… I'll give you a hint.” 

“Ooh I love this game!!” He cheered, doing a small and excited wiggle. 

At this, he couldn't help but chuckle again, leaning in close. “It's right in front of me.” 

“Wait.. Wha- Yeouch!!”  Before he could fully process the flirt, his oversized weasel of a boyfriend bit him, right in the cheek, and then the nose, then nipped his ears, before finally chomping down on a collar bone. “Hey- No- staaph! Get off of me, you big ape!” He'd whine, pushing his head only for him to bite harder. 

“I'm a wolverine, actually. THE Wolverine.” He growls, connecting their foreheads as he smirks, his canines flashing in the firelight before shifting himself to bite him again. The entirety of his neck sat between his jaws, a grumble of satisfaction and playfulness coming from his throat. 

His hands came to his hair, petting him a bit and playing with the little curls on the sides, perfectly content to let him get his aggression out. “Are you purri-” 

“Nuh!” He growled a bit louder, biting harder, causing a small gasp. 

“I don't know, baby girl, sounds like purring to me-” 

“Shuddup!” Placing his fist against his skull, the other took his hand, holding it tight. 

“God you're so pathetic, aren't you big boy? Getting all worked up over nothing.” Wade teased, not minding his neck becoming a chew toy and his hand getting crushed. Infact he was smiling, looping the little ears around his finger with a giggle. 

“Says the one who needs his whole face covered just to go feed chickens.” he grumbled, pulling away and shaking his head a bit, getting off that extra energy. 

“That's not fair and you know it.” The one on the floor mumbled, crossing his arms again. 

“.. Just because some of us don't need the makeup chair doesn't mean none of us do..” 

“You're a real idiot ain't ya?” He muttered, getting up, kicking off his boots as he began to walk off. Sitting up, of course he wanted to follow, but Logan turned, pointing at him sternly. “Stay.” 

“Oh, what!? Noo!! I hate when you do this! Logan!” He whined, pouting and kicking his feet like a child, or perhaps A demon who was just placed into a salt circle. Maybe both. 

Laying here, Pouty, Wade decided right then and there that if he came back with a camera, he was going to kick him in the balls so hard that they'd have to grow back. How he wasn't sterile by now was beyond him. Then again, Logans never had to do intense chemotherapy either. Blinking, he stared at the fire, debating if he should start doing that again… It made him feel so much worse, but in the long term, he did admit to feeling better.. that was the best part about having a suit that fully covered you, though. No one ever assumed that Spidey had stage 4 cancer. Not ever… oh web powers would be pretty cool though, yeah?  

“Yeah.. they would, wouldn't they..” 

“Are you talking to yourself again?” 

“Do you think it would be cool to have web powers?” He asked, avoiding the question only to turn and see that Logan awkwardly was carrying his make up bag and his template of multiple brushes and eyeshadows. 

Within a second, he sat up, panicking with the assumption that he was going to destroy all of it. “Don't you dare!!” 

“Don't I dare what?” The man stopped, wondering why he was so upset. He thought guys were into their boyfriends doing makeup for them? They were online anyway. “And as for your question, I'm almost 400 pounds, what do you think? I doubt they could even hold me.” 

By now he was standing, almost teary eyed as he pointed at him. “I'm serious, Logan! Don't!” 

Blinking, He looked around, a little on edge as if there was a bomb or something, but he didn't see anything. It then hit him in the chest that Wade might actually need to go somewhere else for help. He knew he saw things sometimes, but there really was nothing. “Don't what!?” 

Following where he was looking, he held up the bag a bit more. “What? This?” Really, he couldn't be more confused. He knew that it was expensive but he didn't know it was ‘Don’t touch it’ expensive. 

“..Please…don't.” Wade whispered, the tears leaving the station, his body language changing to become more shut down, holding himself as he turned to walk in a tiny circle, pacing. 

“Okay, okay! Just… "Let's take a breath ..okay?" I didn't know.” Slowly putting the bag down, he put his hands up, taking a step towards him instead. “Come're. What? What's wrong?” But he didn't come nor hear him at all, shaking his head, sniffling. 

Oh, it was times like this when Howlett really wished one of his daughters was home. They were so much better at this kind of stuff. Okay.. what would they say.. 

“Erm.. it's okay.. pumpkin.. just.. tell me, what's wrong?” That sounded terrible. “Uhm..please?” 

And that sounded even worse. 

Turning, he swallowed, choking out. “Yo-you're going to break it..”

Between the look in his eyes, the way he was standing, and this sentence alone, His eyes widened. “..You thought I was going to bust up all your makeup? On purpose?” 

The silence was enough to answer, staring at him as if he'd hurt him if he replied. A lot of people didn't actually know this, but behind that blood lust and violence, there was so much hurt. So much trauma. It was kind of crazy how well their lives matched up, actually. Scary even. Maybe it's why they worked. 

“Shit, Wade… I didn't.. I'd never do that to you. I know how much it means to you I just.. Damn words are hard.” He groaned, putting his hands on his head for a moment, trying to think. It was harder to think when he stared at him like that. He's had plenty of people stare at him like he was a rabid, feral animal. They were terrified that he'd hurt them. But this was different, and it hurt a lot more. 

He was scared of being hurt emotionally, not physically. And that feeling alone made him want to walk away. To go far far away from Wade so he could never hurt him. 

‘I'm not going to walk out on you just because you cry, moron’ 

‘..promise?’ 

‘Sure.’ 

‘Pinky promise? Cross your heart?’ 

‘Heh. Sure. Cross my heart. Hope to die’ 

This promise rang through his head every single time he had this feeling. The one deep in his gut that got him here in the first place. He got here by running away. Not anymore. Not ever again. 

“Wade, I-... I wanted to do your makeup.” He admits, swallowing seeing as this type of intimate, gentle conversation was new for him, nervous that he'd mess it up again. 

“W-what?” 

“Yeah, I… I figured..” rubbing the back of his neck, He put another hand in his pocket, grumbling at how stupid this all sounded. 

Taking a step forward, he seemed… Hopeful. Trusting and honest. “C-cross your heart?” 

Immediately Logan perked up, nodding and crossed his heart with a finger. “Hope to die… come here?” Ah yes, Come here. The classic ‘I'm too manly to ask for a hug’ move. 

Sniffling, Wilson wiped his eyes, now feeling like a fool, coming to him as he hugged him, keeping him close as he began to giggle awkwardly. “..H-hi..” 

Holding him close and firmly, He rubbed his back, scratching it softly with his nails. These little hellos after disagreements or misunderstandings helped greatly. He wasn't sure why Wade always greeted him, but it felt nice. Part of him wondered if it was himself coming back down to the front or if he was simply saying ‘let's start over’ 

“...If they can hold a 4 ton truck, they can hold you.” 

“Huh??” 2 seconds after making up, and he was already confused. 

“The webs.” 

“Oh. Yeah, they could then, couldn't they?” 

He nods, specifically nuzzling into his chest, taking in that musky, hard-working man smell he always had. Maybe.. he'd stop using the stinky ones. 

Move over Janet. You've just been fired and replaced with Mr. Howlett. Director of Scent and the new makeup artist in town. 

[vintagerpg]

The Cavern of Doom (1983) is the third Zork pick-your-path book. Most of the basic features are the same: two kids, a boy and a girl, explore the Great Underground Empire in a fairly linear quest suitable for young readers. It plays fast — you can probably solve it in about 30 minutes, it has one optimal path (I think), about 15 ways to die surprisingly grisly deaths and one trap for cheaters. Plot-wise, we’re exploring the titular cavern in hopes of finding the elves Max and Fred. As they are missing, so is a good deal of humor that was found in the previous book.

This one makes up for that lack by being the most like a Zork videogame in structure. You need to collect objects to solve challenges and you pick your way through a dungeoncrawl that, for the first time in the series, actually feels like the GUE to me. There are lots of grue. We even get to see what they look like, thanks to Dell Harris’ illustrations. I’m not sure how I feel about that broadly, but I do appreciate how toothy they are (I also have a hard time believing this Dell Harris is the same as the last book’s Dell Harris, to the point that I am wondering if it is a pen name). Phil Parks delivers a cover that is less awesome than the last volume’s but, I think, suits the book, and the larger Zork universe, quite nicely.

If you’re gonna get one Zork pick-your-path that isn’t tied to nostalgia for the cover, this is probably it.

[deeppenguinstudent]

"When's your roommate getting here?" Neil saw Jean adjust his hair as he gazed at his reflection on his phone's flipped camera.

"I don't know, Kev basically lives on the court," Neil grumbled as he rested his head against the armrest of the couch, "I would have followed him if I wasn't tasked with showing you around campus."

Jean rolled his eyes before he made his way to the couch and gently lifted up Neil's stretched out legs before sliding beneath them, "No, your coach banned you from playing because your headstrong personality earned you a fractured heel."

As if to prove his point, Jean pinched his heel that made Neil let out a yelp before glaring at him.

"Whatever, wait, why do you care about Kev anyways?" Neil raised his eyebrows accusingly.

Jean huffed as he lounged further into the cushions of the couch as if it could swallow him whole. "Apparently, my roommates a huge asshole; messy, wakes up at erratic hours and ants crawl all over his apartment because he leaves stashes of sweets everywhere."

"Sounds like a huge asshole," Neil smirked at his friends despondent story, "Perfect, I think you'd get along just fine."

"Well, too bad I managed to convince the dorm directory to allow me to change my room." Jean scowled at Neil as his hands subconsciously started massaging the sore numbness the pain aching at the sole of Neil's foot. "All I need is for your roommate to sign a consent form, and I'll move my luggage right into his room."

"Good luck, Kev would rather die than live with some sugar crazed maniac."

"See, I was skeptical at first, but Catalina told me apparently both our roommates are practically joined at the hip outside of practice, so I'm placing my trust in her so your Kevin can suffer in my stead."

"I can't believe you're getting closer to the Trojans instead of the Foxes." Neil scorned in faux annoyance, trying to get a rise out of Jean. "After years of friendship, I guess it's true, it's always the ones you trust most in the end."

Before Jean could get a word in, both their heads snapped to the front door when it thudded open harshly. Jean cringed inwardly - he could see why Neil had always complained about Kevin's clambering attitude.

"Who's your friend?" Jean heard a breathy voice exhale as the jingling of the keychain attached to the dorm card clacked against the dining table.

"Jean Moreau, pleasure to- fuck."

Questioning green eyes scrutinised him further as he swore in French. He could feel his breath choke as he willed himself not to look at the punishing outline of Kevin's abs hidden beneath a white tank top.

"Why'd you take so long halfwit?" Neil jibed, and when Kevin's gaze tore away from Jean, he allowed himself to leer at the muscle that was framed sinfully perfect along his tank top.

Kevin sighed heavily, "I had to run to the damn court with no breaks since you didn't fucking wake me up for practice."

"How far is the court?" Jean side-glanced Neil, who was perplexed at his sudden interest in Exy.

"Around 4 miles."

Neil heard Jean swear under his breath again and furrowed his eyebrows at his abnormal behaviour.

A trilling sound emerged from Jean's phone as he groaned out a sound of displeasure. He really wanted to stay around the dorms, especially with the new appearance of Neil's hot roommate that would probably haunt his dreams for the next week or so. Alas, as Jean looked at the clock, he realised he would be embarrassingly late to one of his first classes of the semester if he didn't make a move as of this instant.

"Sorry, I was going to discuss the logistics of this but I'll have to make it quick since Mr Hollister will have my ass beat if I don't make it on time to my first class."

"You take history?" Kevin inquired as he now heeded Jean's form with interest.

"It's an extra subject," Jean avoided Kevin's intense stare as his heart picked up at his perusal, "My sister fawns over oldern text, but she can't speak English fluently as a child, so I had to translate it all in French for her. I guess it stuck with me thereafter."

Kevin nodded in understanding, but his expression morphed into a slight smile that Neil was sure he had never seen despite rooming with him for nearly a year.

"Anyways, Kev, so basically Jean was wondering whether you would susceptible for him to switch-"

Jean let out an indiginified shriek before abruptly clearing his throat and shooting an ardent glare at Neil.

"Since I'm new around here, Neil thought it would be best if I stayed with someone I was more familiar with," Jean paused before simpering slightly, "Obviously, I believe staying with Neil would be the best case but since he's injured, he suggested for me to take his place in this dorm until his heel is fully recovered."

Neil blinked in perplexion as Kevin nodded slowly in understanding, and Jean leisurely stood up before pocketing his phone.

"What- "

Before Neil could protest, Jean leaned down beside his ear and mumbled in low French.

"Please just do this for me. It is so unfair that you get such a hot roommate whom you barely talk about while I have to suffer with some crazed sugar rush maniac. It's just less than a month, I'll do anything."

"Come to my Exy game next week," Neil responded in French without missing a beat.

He felt Jean falter. Neil had been pestering for Jean to accompany him to an Exy game since they were children. The Frenchman always just sneered before belittling Neil for his unearthly infatuation for the stupid sport. Jean's hand squeezed his shoulder before placing a swift peck on his cheek and tilted his head to allow the red-haired boy to do the same.

"Then I'll be off. Don't strain your heel too much, Achilles. I'll be back in the evening to help you move. See you around Kevin," Jean slid on his shoes as he waved at the duo.

"You didn't even tell me who my roommate was!" Neil suddenly shouted, hoping to garner some reprieve by startling Jean.

"Andrew Minyard," Jean called out equally as loud.

Neil's teeth gritted as he sulked on the couch and pointedly ignored Kevin's stare. He had seen Andrew, but his standoffish demeanour made Matt promise Neil he would stay away from the blonde. Now he was walking in with his hands tied right into the jaws on the beast; just great.

[a-very-bored-blogger]

Bittersweet Romance (Cho Gue Sung x Fem! Reader) Part 1

Summary: Cho and (y/n) have been childhood friends back in Korea. 12 years later, Cho comes back to Ansan to see his family as well as (y/n). With his newfound fame, the football player becomes surrounded with fangirls, yet he is only infatuated with the one girl who treats him the same, famous or not. Reader is also around 23-24, and is not necesarily Korean, just lives in Korea. 

Warnings: Angst, Hurt to Comfort, Toxic but in reality just confused with feelings, Romanticism, Eventual Fluff

Request: from @alotofrandomfangirling:

Hii could you please write for Cho Gue-Sung where he and reader have like a love/hate relationship, picking on each other but secretly having a huge crush? Then one day something happens and they confess their feelings ajskajskajs thanks a lot 💗

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I don’t really know what else to do since Cho is just such a lovable person so I decided to make this into two parts so I do hope that you wouldn’t mind. It makes my heart happy seeing people that are actually requesting and I do hope that this ‘fic is long and good enough for you <3 -Tsuyu

Word Count: 1K

“Oi brat, could you come pick me up?” Cho asks in a joking tone as he presses the button to contact you on Line. The football player has found newfound fame in the stadium of the World Cup, coming back to his hometown of Ansan to meet his family and friends (by friends he means his best friend of 12 years, (y/n)). The man is surrounded by fangirls and paparazzi at the airport so he just wants to be escorted back as soon as possible to a place no one can find him.

The girl on the other line rolled her eyes and sighed, laughing a bit before replying back on the phone. “Brat? Shouldn’t you have more manners for someone coming to pick you up at the airport?” the girl asked in a rather annoyed tone.

Cho simply laughed. Seeing her annoyed  seems quite amusing to the Korean man. He simply decides to tease her back, just to check her reactions.

“Fine. Do you prefer jagiya then?” Cho asks back, this time in a more serious tone. The line on the other side went silent as the girl covers her mouth with her hand, before the man hears a quiet ‘shut the fuck up’ muttering from the girl’s mouth before she hangs up. The man simply smiled and giggled. Most of their entire friendship has been just back and forward teases towards each other.

He simply remembers the first time he met her. 

Cho remembered the girl that fell down in front of his doorstep the first day she moved in. The girl has recently moved from Seoul to Ansan for her father’s new job. She wore a white shirt and a long green skirt, and sat outside of Cho’s doorstep, sheltered by the roof while enjoying the ambience the rain made.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Cho said, opening the door in his front porch, noticing the presence of the girl. He was confused, but the girl’s eyes said nothing as she stared out, watching raindrops hit the road.

The girl didn’t look back. She kept watching, replying. “I’ve just moved in next door. The movers are still inside and since it’s raining, I only could wait here.” The girl replied. 

The confused 12 year old boy walked forward, sitting down next to the girl. He looked at her to the side and asked.

“You seem sad. What’s wrong?” Cho asked with a concerned look towards his new neighbour. 

“All of my friends are in Seoul and I don’t want to be alone in Ansan, cause I’m afraid that I’m not gonna be able to make any friends here.” The girl responded with a sigh, enjoying the sight of the rain.

Cho chuckled a bit. He lent out a hand and smiled. 

“Cho Gae-Sung. Your neighbour and your friend. Nice to meet you!” He said with a coy grin.

The raven haired boy saw the eyes of a certain (y/n) peeping out in a small black Hyundai, as she exited for a bit, walking towards Cho and giving him a tight hug. 

And that was the start of a beautiful, bittersweet friendship. From stupid competitions in class, shit-talking each other, they were always a duo that always bickered and eventually made up. Inseperable till Cho left for the football club. 

After what seemed like a good 20 minutes, Cho receives a message from his phone.

“Hey I’m 5 minutes away.”  The text read out. The man sighed and grabbed his bags to go out to the front of the terminal. He took out his sunglasses, shielding himself from the masses of stupid paparazzis and fangirls.

Cho put his arms around the girl’s back, letting go quickly to put his bags at the backseat before hopping in the front seat. 

The duo chatted for a bit, updating each other regarding the highlights and events for their lives such as what their parents and neighbours have been up to, the part where Cho purposely learnt Portugese curse words to piss off Ronaldo, and it left both of them laughing off their seats.

“Well I got a boyfriend.” (y/n) stated before hearing the inaudible gasp that Cho gave. Awkward silence reigned in for a bit before Cho disrupted.

“Hah! Bet he’s a loser and ugly dude.” Cho snickered. He was trying to obviously hide his hurt feelings from the bitter truth- that someone as perfect as (y/n) wouldn’t like him back just because he simply cannot be honest with her.

She rolled her eyes and smirked for a bit.

“Actually, it’s Jaehyun.” The girl replied back. Cho couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people (y/n) decides the date, it was the valedictorian back in their highschool. The one that Cho despised for always being so ‘perfect’ and ‘boring’. “What the hell do you even see in him? He’s so boring (y/n)!” Cho scolded out.

(y/n) could only laugh back. The girl in reality, only made up the fact that she’s dating him to make Cho jealous, knowing that she could never compete with Cho’s options of millions of fangirls all around the world. The girl knows that all she could ever have with him is bickering and bittersweet friendships.  

“(y/n) I’m serious! Do you really wanna date a guy who’s only future is pleasing his parents dreams of becoming a doctor?” Cho says. God knows what got into him that made him this pissed. Everything just became muddled onto a big piece of negativity. 

And the car went silent for a while. 

She knew she fucked up. 

The girl stopped the car in front of their neighbourhood. She looked down onto the steering wheel and asked.

“Why the hell do you care so much about who I’m dating, Cho?” The girl asked in a serious tone. 

He didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed the door handle and opened it, walking to the back to grab his things and bringing it towards his front porch, before slamming it. 

[c-atm]

Glowweek:(casual□/surprise■)morning ride (bittersweet meetings au) @glowweek

"Wha?" Connie groaned as her phone blared to life, waking her up from her slumber. "4:36?" She yawned , a bit annoyed as the ringing stopped and a text came up.

Bisk:Hey, I'm outside... It's Steven.

Connie glared at the text, not even a hello from her bestfriend turned Boyfriend.

Berry: it's 4:40 am, on a saturday, in the winter.

Bisk: I am aware.. I'm waiting. Get your coat.

Berry: could this wait til the sun up? We both had bust school weeks.

Bisk: I'm right out you window.

Connie blinked and turned to her window before opening the blinds to see Steven on his custom pink kawasaki, 'Lion' as he dubbed it, his pink shield helmet under his arm. Her nostrils flared when she saw him, and her cheeks burned. It was less than a week since the two became an official item, which they decided not to broadcast, just yet.

Only her and possibly his parents knew at the moment.

"Can't believe we wasted so much time." The Seventeen year old student president mused as a grin came to her.

Five minutes later, Connie was outside dressed in outfit fit for the chilling weather that included a large pink hoodie that belongs to steven, some blue winter tights, blue booties, and a black jacket that also belong to Steven.

"Now that a morning view." Steven smiled, looking at her, "Good morning, Sunnie."

"Sunnie?" Connie arched an eyebrow, "there's still no sun out. Not until 5:43 the earliest and 6:12 the latest."

"You're out, your smile out...all the morning sun I need, Pres."

Connie folded her arms and picked her lips to the side.

"I'm not smiling."

"Right.. let's fix that."

Connie squeaked gently as Steven boldly cupped her chin and gave her a tender, caressing kiss. It was slow, meticulous, and loving.

She couldn't help but the inward swoon, giggling upon the last moments before he broke away, resting his forehead upon hers.

"Seems the sun came up early." He remarked with a grinning red face.

"Can't trust meteorologist now and days, I gues." A brightly grinning Connie joked as she hugged him, " is it silly to say I missed you? Since I saw you yesterday."

"and every day." Steven added, hugging her back just as tight, "naw, I missed you too."

" Is that why i'm out here?" Connie looked at him impishly. "You missed me, jambuddie?"

"Partly." He grinned, pointing to the side car of 'Lion'; there sat a helmet for her, blue with a sword insignia.

Connie eyes widened and misted a bit," it's been a while.."

"Streets are clear. We'll have it to ourselves."

Connie nearly trembled in place as she placed and secured her helmet on before she mounts the bike, feeling his muscular form beneath her hands as you grip her waist to help stabilize her.

Once seated comfortably behind Steven, she locks the straps of the helmet over her ears, the plastic visor shielding part of her face from view.

"I missed this feeling," Connie mutters, basking in the warmth spreading throughout her thighs as they press against Steven lower body. "2 months is way too long without a ride on lion."

"Well, let's make up for lost time." Steven give her a smirk through his visor before pulling out and driving out onto the road, setting off together toward the heart of the city, the wind blowing as the world gradually become a moving winter picture around them.

Gripping onto Steven tightly, her knuckles turning red, Connie let loose a giggle, enjoying the ride. The cool breeze against her skin, the thrill of speed, the way his strong frame fits perfectly with hers—she missed this, this simple pleasure that she shared with him, the feeling of exhilaration that can onlt be shared with him.

Slowly, she leans forward, pressing her chest against his back, taking in deeper breaths of fresh air as the adrenaline courses through her veins. And for now, Connie lets herself forget about everything else except this moment with Steven.

Willing to go wherever, whenever as long as it was with him.

[fandomfuntimem]

Cain and Able

I mentioned in an earlier post that I though Cain in the story of Cain and Able was "on some level, justified" and frankly I misworded it, and my reasoning at the time was wrong.

When I said "Justified" what I really ment was I could see why and how it happened, and that I pittied Cain. I thought Cain didn't intend on killing Able, he threw the rock and Able died. No human had ever died before that point, and they only ever killed livestock, so Cain couldn't have known that would kill Able.

But my mom corrected me by looking it up. In the Catholic version (I am Roman Catholic, so thats unfortunately my only frame of refference.) The devil whispered to Cain and encouraged him to kill Able. Cain and Able fought, and Cain beat Able to death.

But that got me thinking. First of all, I whent to bible school for eight years and not once did they say that happened. Hell not even the church ever said that that was what happened. So, y'know, eather they never cared to say it, or my mom lied (good chance tbh, she doesn't like blasphemy).

Second: THAT ENTIRE SITUATION, WAS GOD'S FAULT! For centuries the church has pushed this idea that God loves all his creations equally, that it pains him to see sinners in hell. But Cain and Able? That was his fault.

Reasoning:

So, the devil pushed Cain to kill. Got in his head, fed on his jealousy, and whispered in his ear. Yeah ok usual bible stuff. The bible also pushes the idea that a strong faith in God is a good way to push the Devil out. Also, jealousy is a natural emotion, but something has to trigger it.

God picked favorites. The great being, that Cain and Able were probably both told is full of love, and wrath, picked favorites. God ignored the amount of effort BOTH brothers put into their offerings. He picked Able over Cain, and Cain was hurt. Cain lost his faith. Because he was told this was a loving and fair being, but this "fair" being picked favorites. He was lied to.

This doubt, and jealousy, was planted by God's blatant favoritism. Allowing the Devil entry into Cain's heart.

Then, when Cain had realised what he had done, God came back questioning where Able was, and Cain lied. What else could he do? This is THE being, the ultimate force of everything, it created his parents, banished them from the garden, and now Cain was facing it down after committing a horrific act. Frankly, Cain was probably pissing himself. God probably already knew what happened. (That, or this story proves God is not omnipotent.) Cain lied, because what else could he do? It was that, or admit to God, and himself, that he killed his brother.

I just feel bad for him. That entire situation wouldn't have happened if God didn't pick favorites. If God stuck to his teachings and loved and cared equally.

I'm not saying Cain was justified, or that he shouldn't have been punished. I'm just saying that its tragic. I gues a large chunk of my reason for feeling bad for Cain is that I kinda get it? Y'know, being raised Catholic and all, but slowly learning that the God you follow isn't the fair and loving being you were told he was. He's just cruel, and so are his people.

Side note: my mom said "well, God just happened to like one offering more than the other," and that statement just urked me. That implies God can decide if he likes one person more than the other, two people on equal ground, similer lives, but one can be far more blessed than the other because God "just happened to like one more than the other." Thats bullshit for the ideas the church preaches.

[lixiswrites]

I love you I promise

Cw: break up let me know if there is others to add

Fluff,angst

Wc:1k

It’s been three days since you broke up with Jake. It was supposed to be easy, but you’ve been through a lot.

These past days, everything that your best friend Heeseung tried to do to cheer you up wasn’t working, and every time you guys were actually laughing, a call would pop, and then he would leave. You were always wondering who it was—was it Niki who needed help with the choreographer or was it Sunoo who wanted help with vocals or a good dinner with him? But overall, you guys had a great friendship since the day you met.

 

Today was nothing like other days. You were missing Jake extra today, and you were starter  and worried about him since normally, after a stupid argument, he would call you, and even if you asked to break up when you were mad, he would still ask how you were doing and that he loved you and wished this would end, but this was nothing like that. Heeseung didn’t even say a word, which made you worried about how Jake was.

 

U made your way to the dorm and knocked. You were surprised by how fast it was open. Jungwon greeted you with a hug. "Hey noona, I hope you're doing okay." He gave you a sheepish smile. “He’s here, isn’t he?” U asked, raising an eyebrow while walking to the kitchen, making yourself a hot drink since it was cold. “Why is it so cold? You see Jungwon rubbing his hands together to form some type of friction to get heat. "I don’t know, but it’s going to snow a lot.”

 

After a while of laughing with the rest of the members, you checked outside to see heavy inches of snow getting piled up. You huffed, sitting back down, slightly closing your eyes in defeat. Now you were sleeping until you heard the boys screaming, screeching, and dying of laughter, hearing things like, “Our boy finally came out of his cave," "We missed you, puppy," and "Are you good?"

 

But he ignored everything. "What is she doing here?” He questioned, "Oh, she was going to hang out with the boys before you woke up, but I guess she fell asleep." Heeseung said, "Sorry, I’ll go now.” You said, head bowed down, and you grabbed your bag, heading out, but when you tried opening the door, you couldn’t u were now basically snowed in with your now ex and his friends. "The door won’t budge,” you said as you looked at your feet once again. “So just stay in,” Jay suggested, and the boys nodded.

 

“No”

“What do you mean, no, Jake?”

"No, no, no, I won’t let a girl who broke my heart just stay because there’s snow outside. You have to find a way out.”

 

Of course, you were hurt, but you couldn’t do anything. Jake was right; you broke up with him, and it was on you.

“Well I gues she’ll meet to stay there’s no way out” Niki patted Jake’s back soothingly it was obvious Jake was angry and it was very obvious that he’d been crying biting his lips and picking at his cuticles the sight of him in that state made you feel guilty “Jake let’s talk please?” you ask he chuckles licking his bottom lip “there is nothing to talk about Y/N what’s done is done” he slammed his hand down on the dining table his screams making you flinch “please?” You already have tears in your eyes and it was all you the pain he’s in right now you caused it why he didn’t want to talk u caused it the argument you caused it it’s all ur fault but u could help but want to talk to the person that helped you most Jake gave a slight “okay” and said down, finally giving in. This was the sign for the boys went to their room to leave you two alone.

 

“So what did you want to tell me more about why you broke up with me?” he asked with a shaky voice. “I wanted to say sorry for everything I put you through. I know it wasn’t the type to do these kinds of things. I just thought I wasn’t good enough." You blurred out in an unsteady pace, "Wait, what? So your just using that as an excuse because that’s not true?" He said sternly, and you looked at him adoringly. “I mean, every time I see other people's girlfriends visit them while at work or preparing lunch for them, I want to do that, but i never wanted to look like a clingy girlfriend, so I didn’t get a chance to do it, so it made me very self-aware that I was the only one who never visited her boyfriend." You took a deep breath before continuing, “I love you, Jake. I’m just an insecure bitch." You you laugh slightly at your bad joke.

 

"Baby," he cooed, getting up from the table and hugging you and smoothing your hair."I could say a million things that I love about you that are not just preparing lunch and visiting," he kissed your forehead."I love that every time we’re about to go to bed, you always have pepper kissed all over my face. I love how every time we release a song, you tell me how good I was and how good I looked. I love how we cuddle. I love what you cook for dinner. I love everything. He said and ended with a kiss on the nose, "I'm sorry, I didn’t want to see you this hurt." A tear fell on your cheek, hugging him closer. "I'm never letting go ever again,” you kissed his lips softly. “Let’s go. I want to cuddle with you. I’m cold.” He pouted when you went to the bedroom. He fell on the bed with you and cuddled you close, hugging your waist.

"I love you so much,” he said, kissing your shoulder.

“I love you too, I promise.

[folkloristico]

I tried to restrain myself from sending half the ask game xd

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. + Marion

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Thank you for the ask!

😅 What’s a story or scene you’ve created that you’re a smidge embarrassed exists? 

Generally speaking, my first smut fic ever still haunts me to this very day, and I’m glad nobody ever knows it was written by me. Funnily enough, it’s my most popular fic ever—the power of smut, Ig? 

But related to the Winx fandom, I think the first fic ever I wrote about CoL, from Hagen’s POV. I still like most of the headcanons thrown in there and have implemented them in other WIPs, but I feel like the characterization was a bit off. I also used to find Hagen/Faragonda cute, but I really am not interested in them as a romantic pairing anymore, so there’s that, too. 

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? 

When a character has been keeping all of their feelings crammed inside of them for a very long time, and when they can’t hold it any longer, they snap, and it’s unexpected because they’re usually so calm and collected. I see this trope usually used in romance, but it has an insane amount of power in Gen fics as well—absolutely not thinking of Daphne here. 

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉 

Even though sometimes I still struggle to strike a good balance, I think I’ve gotten fairly good at describing people and places.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic? 

Not really. I wouldn’t mind that much if some people found out I write as a hobby, but I find most people tend to insist on reading your stuff and that would be a no from me because it feels way too personal.

🧠 Pick a character, and I’ll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. + Marion 

I’m gonna borrow from your answer about Daphne and say there are so many I don’t know which one to pick.

… Let’s go with this. Marion is far more good at manipulating people that she would like to admit. Her mother was paranoid to a fault, even more than other members of the family would be—the Dominian royal family tends to be very protective of the Dragon Flame and as a result, they see potential threats where there are none. Queen Mother was no exception, and things only got worse when Marion’s father died. In her worst days, Marion still feels her mother’s voice in her own mind telling her not to trust anyone and to never show your true face to them. Oritel is swift to notice because despite not loving her at first, he’s captivated by her and spends a lot of time observing her. She’s very good at playing the court game, and she might have overestimated herself a bit when it comes to thinking she’s deceived everyone. Griffin also notices pretty swiftly, though it’s partly due to the fact that Marion dislikes her at first and so drops the mask quickly, basically telling her she’s only useful because she knows Valtor.

Daphne has taken a lot from Marion in this aspect. In my AU, she spends the last 8-ish years of her life jumping back from Domino and Andros, occasionally visiting other places as she studies to become a Nymph, and as she grows more into her own person she starts to realize just how much she’s good at manipulating people if she only wants to. This unsettles both Marion and Daphne because it’s something they’re not proud of, but the matter is mostly brushed aside and only surfaces post-SotLK. 

🤯 What’s a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Horror. I guess it’s because it’s a genre I’ve never clicked with outside of a few exceptions, so my interest in writing it is as scarce as my interest in reading about it.

Send me an ask!

[idkimjustexistingsblog]

I love flowers

I have alwaysed loved flowers.

Dead or alive they masterpices

Sculpted to a deliicate beauty

Im alwasy jelous of other kids at my conserts

The kids who get to go up to their parents and get hugs and told how good they were

That they are so proud,

Getting handed bouques of flowers

Turning to their freinds and talking about how amzing that was

Or what ever kids talk about

I rember my mother promising a young me about how once i go into music we will go get ice cream

Just like she did with my brother

We never did

I never got to turn around and talk about how amazing the night was

I just wnet home wiating for the hug and for my family to look at me and truthfully say that i was amzing and that they are proud

But they dont understand

And i gues i can't fault them for that

I always hope that that night will be the night they smile and give me hug

Telling me their proud

That that might be the night my mom rembers how much i love flowers and ice cream

Rembers that i am still terified

Rembers how much i hat thee light

But I know it's not deep deep down

Its not like i can't be grateful that they try

That they've been their

Its more than some parents do

Sometimes i jsut wish they do one of those meaningless things

Like flowers

Like a small menaingless gift

Sometimes i think how when i get a car i could just drive to a flower shop

Than i will geet myself a bouques of the prettiest flowers their and that ill cry

Becuse i alwasy feel like crying when someone dose somthing simple and sweat for me

When they give me a compliment , they actually have to think about

When they remember something I forgot, I told them long ago

When they do somthing small and menaingless

Only doing it becuse thye know i like it

I love flowers

I love picking them myself

I love the mmeorys of my grnadma giving them to me and being so happy and proud

I love knowing that i finaly made someone proud that pushed myself and they noticed

I liking thinking that one day theyll notice me

I hate knowing thatll never happen

But flowers are still pretty when theyre dead long after their use

So maybe i can be beautfiul to

[lazyrants]

Ziggy's Alien (prod 130)

Original airdate: October 11, 2005 (DVD) / May 17, 2006 (TV)

Story by Magnus Scheving

Written by Noah Zachary, Cole Louie, Magnus Scheving

Directed by Jonathan Judge

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Mark Read, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Sarah Burgess

Oh boy. I remember before watching every LazyTown episode TO DATE, I'd always put this one off because it didn't really look interesting to me. After finishing all the episodes (and RE-finishing them which I'm 1/5 through), it's time to watch Ziggy's Alien again!

Recycled Zap It! opening. Durr. Robbie is trying to take a nap. SHOCKINGLY AS IF THIS HAS NEVER EVER HAPPENED IN THE PAST 33 EPISODES he gets disturbed. By the kids.

Sorry - I meant KID. As he is getting disturbed by the sound of Pixel trying to launch his alien communication plan. An excited Ziggy runs into his house, trips on NOTHING and his arm hits a button.

He ends up tangled in some wires and Pixel tells him only big kids inside (Ziggy is only two years younger then Pixel, SMH..) the house. So Pixel tells him to play outside, and he stuffs that up - Stingy is on a ladder, setting up an antenna when ZIGGY BUMPS INTO IT and he falls down.

Robbie's happy about this, until he starts yelling for help, much to his annoyance. Then Sportacus saves him, much to his anger. But it seems the ladder has fell on Stephanie and Ziggy.

Sportacus saves them too and asks what they were doing. They explain everything to him, say bye, and tell Ziggy that he can't join their club because he would crash the rocket. Stephanie feels bad, but Stingy is all for it. He says that if he saw an actual alien, he'd have a panic attack and not talk for a week. Robbie's listening.

Robbie has the idea to dress up as a space alien and scare Ziggy so he shuts up but for that plan to work REALLY well, it'd have to work forever, so he'd have to dress up as an alien once a week. He takes no notice of this and dresses up in an alien costume that looks NOTHING like an alien.

So, anyways, Ziggy starts the cake and candy club, but nobody will join because they're too busy singing Galaxy. So, Zobby (Robbie's alien costume) comes outside of his lair to find Ziggy and then he steps on a skateboard. Meanwhile, Stingy is questioning if the rocket is all his, and he says he can just own the bottom half but Steph declines. Pixel asks if they're ready through the walkie-talkie.

Stephanie tells him 'almost', much to his annoyance, which is a bit out of character because he'd be fine with it considering he crushes on her. Anyways, once Steph picks up something, Zobby comes cruisin' by and is out of her sight once she stands up.

She asks what that was, and Stingy tells her not to worry because it's probably his. If he owns a different life type, then, urhm, I'd worry.. Ziggy says that he would give away all his candy just for someone to hang out with. In comes Zobby whose skateboard hits a wall. He is sent front-flipping (yes, Robbie has done flips multiple times in this season!) with a hard landing.

Zobby introduces himself and Ziggy goes a bit crazy - but when Zobby tells him to be quiet, he becomes quiet. Ziggy offers him candy much to Zobby's liking until Ziggy calls him 'buddy', which is the opposite of what he was aiming for. So, Ziggy goes to his house, which is DROWNED IN CANDY.

He tries to find a good piece of candy for his new 'buddy', but he decides to give him his favourite lollipop ever, which is kind of sad, really. He's willing to give anything to anyone he meets so they can be friends with him when his real friends think he's too young to do stuff with them. So, for some reason, he decides to run up to his friends, but he bumps into the table and equipment falls off.

Stingy reminds him two things - he is TOO SMALL, and out of the club, but Ziggy offers to bring them a real life-size space alien (Zobby) and tells them to follow him. But he isn't there. He is trying to take a nap on a bench.

He sure took a nap, but not on the bench! So, the kids are looking for him, but they can't find him.. until he gets up from under the couch and shakes his head and starts talking about his pain, scaring Stephanie and Stingy.

Zobby's scared too, yelling 'KIIIDDDSSS!!!!'. then telling them to be quiet, and they are quiet. The kids find it a bit cool now, which starts a tug-of-war as to whose friend it is. Zobby yells out STOP and orders them to whisper every word. Then he starts napping. Ziggy says he must be tired of Earth and Stephanie comes up with the idea to bring him back HOME much to Ziggy's sadness.

Then he comes up with the idea to bring the alien home HIMSELF but Stingy keeps on saying he is too little and he'd crash, yada yada. He storms off, and Stingy says some people can be too possessive and STEPHANIE AGREES. Maybe it'd be funnier if the irony hit hard? Maybe Stingy could claim something a few seconds AFTER he said that. Sportacus' crystal beeps.

He rides into town. Meanwhile, the kids are literally just carrying Zobby in a wheelbarrow and they bump his head on the ice-cream stand, but he's too tired to wake up. Ziggy is sulking about how he isn't too young to fly a rocket and how Zobby's HIS friend. Sportacus flips over to his window and asks what's wrong.

Ziggy tells him everything and how he's too little but Sportacus says you're never too little to help someone out. Then he goes back to the ship. The kids are trying to figure out where to send Zobby as he said he was from 'Junkiter' and no planet exists. They decide to pick a pretty green one.

Pixel checks everything is where it's supposed to be, and he presses the red button, meaning that the rocket'll go in ten seconds. Stingy notices that Ziggy's in there. The 60 thousand KG worth of metal drops on the seesaw and they're launching.

Stingy is sad he will never see him again then asks for his candy. I get that was supposed to be funny but it isn't. Ziggy could be in potential danger. The rocket flies past Sportacus' airship and Sportacus sees them. Zobby's had enough and falls out of the rocket, holding onto a wing.

Then Sportacus JUMPS OUT THE SHIP and lands on the rocket. Ziggy asks Sportacus to save Zobby and he mishears it as 'Zombie'.. XD. So, he tries to walk to the back of the rocket but with the air and everything it's a bit hard. It's also hard because Zobby keeps missing Sportacus' hand. But he is pulled back in!

Then Sportacus sits on Zobby (you can tell by the 'ow!!' sound, XD)'s face, presumably. Sportacus tells Ziggy to ride the rocket, but Ziggy says he is too small. Sportacus reminds him what he said, and luckily, they make it back to LazyTown safely.

Sportacus tries to pull Zobby out, but instead he pulls out his helmet, and the disguise is of course, revealed, once again. And then he falls out of the rocket after aggressively grabbing the helmet back. LOLZ.

Ziggy is sad because he thought he had a friend. Stephanie says they're all his friends. Stingy agrees after a day of being a moron. Then Ziggy silently ends racism by saying 'Big, small or alien, we can all be friends!'. God, I love this show, such a heartwarming scene. The background music from Mani does it as well. They perform Bing Bang.

The episode ends with Robbie back in his robe, trying to relax, when a bright light shines above him, and someone calls out 'Take us to your leader'. Then he screams, abruptly cut off by the ending credits.

So simple, and so funny. It's the scream that's the cherry on top, really.

7/10 - Great lesson, and great ending.