#it's the difference between 'care' and 'management' for me

[amirasainz]

young f1 driver who is very closed off and while she got close to the grid she is still very closed off with her personal life and they don’t know much about her…. ollie comes for a race he fills in or it watch her and the grid suddenly sees her smiling and laughing and touching ollie and like ohh

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🤍

The Ollie effect

The Red Bull garage buzzed with its usual pre-race energy. Yn, at just 18 years old, was the youngest driver on the Formula 1 grid. Her ascension had been nothing short of meteoric. She was a prodigy, a natural talent in the car, but a bit of an enigma outside of it.

The grid knew her as reserved and quiet. Yn was friendly and always happy to hang out, but there was a wall no one had managed to climb. She was the one listening intently to stories, smirking at their jokes, but never really sharing much herself. The grid had long accepted it; Yn was just like that.

---

It was the morning of the Monaco GP when Yn strolled into the paddock, her cap pulled low over her face.

“Yn! Morning!” Lando called out as she walked by McLaren’s hospitality. She raised a hand in greeting, her small smile fleeting before she disappeared into Red Bull’s motorhome.

“She’s always like that,” Charles said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Cool, but mysterious.”

“Have any of you ever seen her properly smile?” Pierre teased, taking a sip of his coffee.

“She does smile, you know,” George defended, earning skeptical looks.

“Not with us.” Carlos leaned back in his chair. “She’s always listening, never talking. Like a spy gathering intel.”

---

Later, the drivers gathered in the lounge for the usual pre-race banter. Yn was there too, perched on a chair in the corner, her headphones around her neck, fiddling with her phone.

“Alright, Yn,” Daniel started with his signature grin, “you’re in Monaco now. You gotta give us something. A secret. A story. Anything!”

She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Nice try, Ricciardo.”

“Come on!” Lando chimed in. “We share everything, and you’re like a closed book. Spill something!”

Yn shrugged, nonchalant as ever. “I like listening to your stories.”

“See?” Charles groaned. “Impossible.”

---

The morning passed, and the buzz around the paddock shifted as news broke: Ollie, a promising young driver from F2, was set to fill in for another team this weekend. It wasn’t unusual for reserve drivers to step in, but what caught everyone’s attention was Yn’s reaction.

She was standing by her car, chatting with her engineer, when Ollie walked into the garage. Yn’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face lit up with a smile so genuine and rare that her team did a double take.

“Ollie!” she called out, jogging over to him.

“Yn!” Ollie opened his arms as Yn practically launched into a hug. The pair laughed as they pulled apart, talking animatedly.

From the adjacent garage, Carlos nudged Charles. “Did you just see that?”

“Was that… Yn smiling?”

---

Throughout the day, the dynamic between Yn and Ollie was impossible to ignore. The two were inseparable, chatting, laughing, and even sharing little nudges and touches. It was a stark contrast to the usually reserved Yn everyone was accustomed to.

During lunch, the drivers couldn’t hold back their curiosity.

“So,” Lando began, leaning across the table, “you and Ollie, huh?”

Yn looked up from her plate, confused. “What about us?”

“That!” Pierre pointed. “The smiling, the touching, the actual talking.”

“What?” Yn frowned, her cheeks reddening slightly.

“You’re different with him,” Charles said bluntly. “You’re never like this with us."

Ollie, who had just joined them, plopped down next to Yn. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently, I’m different with you,” Yn said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Well, you are,” George said. “Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just… surprising.”

Ollie laughed. “That’s because I’ve known Yn forever. She can’t hide from me.”

“Oh, really?” Daniel leaned forward. “Care to elaborate?”

Yn sighed, but there was a small smile on her lips. “We grew up together. Our families are close. He’s practically my best friend.”

“Practically?” Lando raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Norris,” Yn said, but the way she nudged Ollie with her shoulder gave it away.

---

For the rest of the weekend, the drivers watched as Yn continued to let her guard down around Ollie. It was clear he brought out a side of her none of them had seen before.

On race day, Yn was back to her focused, determined self, but between sessions, she could be found joking around with Ollie, her laughter echoing through the paddock.

“You know,” Carlos mused as they watched Yn and Ollie from afar, “I think we’ve been replaced.”

“By one guy?” Pierre scoffed. “Unacceptable.”

---

After the race, they finally cornered Yn in the lounge.

“Alright,” Daniel said, crossing his arms. “Spill. What’s the deal with Ollie?”

Yn sighed dramatically. “He’s a friend. A really old friend. Happy?”

“Not even close,” Lando said. “We need details.”

“It’s not that deep,” Yn said, but there was a softness in her eyes. “He’s just someone I’ve always trusted. That’s all.”

“Translation: He’s her favorite,” Charles teased.

“Shut up,” Yn muttered, but her smile gave her away.

---

For the first time, the grid saw a different side of Yn—a girl who could let her walls down and just be herself. It was a glimpse into the hidden chapters of her life, and while they still had a lot of questions, they were content to wait.

“She’s finally human,” Pierre joked as Yn and Ollie walked by, deep in conversation.

“Hey!” Yn called back, flipping them off with a grin.

And just like that, Yn wasn’t so much of a mystery anymore.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Heating pads

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: Your good time in Portimao being interrupted by your endo flare up again.

Warnings: endometriosis, cramps, love and care, infertility and baby talk

A/N: Wrote this last night and I poured into it some of my personal experience with endo, more this time. Surgery worked a little for me, it gave me a three months without cramps. Every body is different, every treatment works differently for us. But we’re in this together, endo sisters!

For @amberjazmyn 🧡

Don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

The weather at Portimao circuit wasn’t so pleasant as it was nearing the end of the year. F1 season was long gone and Max was able to finally avert his attention to his other hobbies (not gonna mention it’s still racing, but for his kinda own team).

Meeting with all the people around Verstappen.com Racing was a great one, especially with Thierry Vermeulen, because he was so funny, but humble at the same time.

You were always amazed how Max was so good at handling his many duties and hobbies at the same time. He was a great mentor, passing his legacy and wisdom and you watched how his temper calmed down a little through the years.

It wasn’t long ago when you moved to his apartment at Monaco, making your relationship more official after three years of being there and nowhere, between your job and his races. One day you decided enough is enough and you didn’t want to face your life alone anymore. That stirred some rumours through his fan base and also your parents weren’t able to hold back in their questions about you two starting a family. Truth was that you and Max weren’t exactly against having children, but the main problem was your endometriosis. Severe pain episodes, ending in ER may times, being neglected by doctors, saying it’s only in your head and that you need to sleep it off. You thought, for so many years, that you’re just insane, but after Max got through one of your endo flare ups with you, he got you through many doctor appointments, to the best specialists in the field, where you finally heard your diagnosis.

The surgery date was set after the new year’s, when Max would be still around to help you get back on your feet and mend your wounds with his love and care. But to that date your body just decided that you need to suffer.

You stood in the garage, watching how Max talked with the engineers and Thierry about some issues, his yapping always getting more and more interesting, when you felt a cramp in your lower back. It wasn’t unusual, you always had similar, and you brushed it off as some kind of back pain, most likely from standing for too long.

Watching Max racing at the empty track was always fun, he gave it his all, enjoying his time and it made you genuinely smile. But now you were pale, your forehead getting a little sweaty, same as your whole body. Feeling the need to sit down, you understood immediately, when the pain shot through your abdomen, pooling at your right side, that stretching burning sensation ghosting to your lower back. Trying to play it cool, you swallowed hard, smiling at everybody around.

About two hours later, Max was done with the testing, leaving the car to Thierry and he went to look through some performance reports, when he spotted you sitting at the bench, having that weird expression on your face like you were trying so hard to hide something, but failing miserably.

“Hey, love.. are you okay?”

His hand went to your cheek and you quickly shot him a look full of pain. He knew that look, seeing it more frequently in past weeks.

“Come here.” Without further words, he grabbed your hand and led you through the corridors to your car outside, where you had your things. Sitting you in the backseat, he quickly went to the trunk, rummaging through his bag, coming back after a while with some packages.

“Max, it’s okay, I can manage it.” You tried to protest but he dismissed you.

“Let me take care of you, I’m prepared.” Sitting beside you at the backseat, he opened both packages, shaking the contents a little with an approving hum. Heating pads. Your eyes went wide with surprise, but then your face softened, your eyes nearly welled with tears.

Warming his hands with the pads a little, he carefully lifted up your hoodie along with your top, to get to your bare abdomen, placing one pad under the waistband of your pants and the other at your lower back. You were always taken aback, how he remembered the location of your pains, where it hurts the most. After he was sure he placed pads securely, he pulled down your top and hoodie.

“Does it feel good?” Cupping your cheek, he had a concern written all over his face and you just nodded. With soft hum, he wrapped his hands around you, getting you closer to his chest, holding you tight against him, making sure you’re comfortable.

“Thank you, Maxie..” your sweet murmur made him smile, your hands hugging his warm and huge body like a teddy bear, the heating pads bringing you comfort you needed.

“Anything for you, my love.. I would go to the end of the world if it meant for you to be in less pain.” Max kissed your temple softly, letting out a soft sigh.

“You’ve done so much for me in this case, I don’t know how I deserved this.”

“You deserve the world, darling. And those pains.. I would do anything to take it on myself instead of you. I hate to see you contorted by it. Packing those heating pads it’s less than I can do for you, to make it easier.”

“You really changed my life, Max.”

“Oh, baby. You changed mine. A lot. I wasn’t this happy like I am beside you. I never forget that moment you smiled at me at that coffee shop in London, because you absolutely stole my breath.”

You chuckled softly, but the slight shot of pain made you wince a little.

“Can you please rub my back a little? It helps also..”

Max just nodded, sneaking his hand under your top, his warm hand rubbing the heat into your skin slowly and gently, making you relax more.

“You know, when we bought this car back then, I thought that it will be different action we’ll be doing on the backseat..” his voice was laced with teasing, trying to make you smile.

“Well.. I thought so too, but I can’t even imagine doing it right now.”

“No, love, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re in discomfort and never in the right mind I would try to make a move on you like this.”

Max liked being intimate with you, your chemistry being something undeniable when you two got to bed, but he respected you and your body. He would rather not have sex with you for weeks than to cause you pain.

“I know, I know, sorry. But we can try after I’m healed from surgery. And there can be a little miracle after. Like we talked many times before. Little Verstappen tapping around.”

It was true happy smile he saw on your face in a while. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of having a baby with you.

“Sure, whatever makes you happy, love. And whatever doesn’t cause you pain.”

His soft lips kissing your nose in the most lovely way was something only you could see. To the world he was that unbeatable lion on the track, dominating champion. But with you he was a caring, loving boyfriend, who would die for you in every way possible.

[iid-smile]

★ — usage

content — nagi seishiro x fem!reader, continuation from this post, hurt no comfort, angst, nagi is a piece of s###, like he's bad, nagi insults the reader quite a bit, some profanity, break up

wc — 1.5k

a/n — this is kinda rushed oopsies 🙈 also these a little surprise at the end !

two hours have passed. two hours of hearing nagi's stupid nintendo 3ds, two hours of hearing those same stupid theme songs over and over, and two hours of dread continuously pouring into your heart.

you've tried sniffling to get his attention. nothing. not even a glance to see if you're crying or not. you've tried getting up and going into another room. the sound of shuffling makes you think he's getting up to check on you, only to realise that he's turned from one side to the other on the bedsheets. call it toxic to fake your emotions, but it's way worse to not care whatsoever about what your partner is feeling.

all you needed to do was talk, right? and then this would be over. you'd get over it, and things would go back to normal.

but what can you say? what could you say without tearing up midway through? you could bring up today, or yesterday, or what's happened months ago, if you really wanted to. there's only been one thing repeating in your mind over and over, and that's what he's said two hours ago.

"sei." no response. "sei." and still. "seishiro." you beg for him to say something. out of frustration, you snatch his 3ds from his hands.

a soft gasp escapes him as he groggily stretches out for his device, his hand just inches away from it —exactly where you wanted him to be. for a moment, his eyes remain fixated on the screen, the sounds of the device ringing in his ears, but gradually, nagi drags his gaze up to find yours. "hey... i was usin' that..." normally, you would relish hearing his sleepy voice on a lazy day, but today... today was something different.

"and i'm trying to talk to you, so will you just—" he shifts his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere, leaving an air of unspoken tension between you. determined to bridge the gap, you subtly inch closer to his still figure, your heart racing as you attempt to keep him within your line of sight, hungry for a connection that feels just out of reach. "just listen to me. please?" pathetic, having to ask to be listened to.

"mm..." he mumbles.

"you're not—"

"i am."

with a sigh, your shoulders drop. "okay." that's not okay. you shouldn't allow that to happen. swallowing down the knot bubbling in your throat, you continue to speak. "what did you mean when you said you hated me?"

"i never said that." he's lying right through his teeth. either that, or he's managed to forget, to which you know he's not that stupid.

you brush your teeth over your lower lip, holding back the urge to scream at him — scream whatever words come to mind. your arms are crossed, and your legs too. "then what did you say? be honest with me, because we both know that i heard exactly what you said."

"hm?" he attempts to pull off a clueless expression, but you see right through it. once more, nagi shies away from making eye contact. just when you think the truth might forever remain hidden, a flicker of honesty manages to break through the facade. "i said i used to hate you."

"you said you still maybe do."

"...oh?"

"don't 'oh' me. why did you say it?"

"i didn't mean it like that..."

you are filled with disbelief, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. a deep, simmering anger sizzles beneath the surface, clenching your fists as frustration takes hold, leaving you almost absolutely furious.

"what else could you have possibly meant?"

the only sound that filled the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the rapid thumping in your chest. not a word for five minutes.

for those agonizing five minutes, you turned your back on him, not daring to meet his gaze. you were all too familiar with his ways — the charm that masked his manipulative tactics, whether deliberate or not. it was a game he played expertly, and the last thing you wanted was to be drawn into his web of deceit.

yet somehow, he possesses an uncanny ability to captivate you, much like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame. as you find yourself locked in a gaze with him, his eyes hold an intense yet disarming quality, radiating an expression that seems to shout, 'i’m innocent'.

their depth invites you in, while the softness of his gaze stirs a blend of curiosity and empathy within you, making it hard to look away. will you fall victim to it once again? "don't give me that look..." you mumble.

"baby..." nagi reaches out for you, his head now laid on your lap and his hands around your calves. he always does this, every time he doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness.

"no... sei, please don't." it's hard for you to push him away, caught between wanting to stay and the pain of your own feelings. seeing the frown on his face tugs at your heart's strings in such a way that shouldn't be possible. you can feel the weight of his grip, heavy yet comforting; it pulls at your emotions in a way that’s almost overwhelming. it's so painful to see him so...

...empty?

"seishiro." finally, you manage to position him in a way so that he's somewhat facing you. you take a deep breath in, slowly exhale out, and brush some hairs away from your face out of habit. "i need you to be honest, okay?"

he only nods.

stay calm, stay calm. you can't let him see how you're really feeling. "what do you think about me?"

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"you won't get mad?" uh oh. that seems like a bad sign. still, you push forward, needing the full truth more than anything. maybe you could fix your relationship, or in this case, maybe you could fix yourself.

"i—"

"you're annoying." he abruptly interrupts you, and your eyes widen in surprise. in that instant, it feels as though a dam that has been sealed for years has suddenly burst, unleashing a string of words that flow effortlessly from his lips. each sentence spills out with urgency, as if he can no longer hold back the thoughts that have been swirling inside him. "you talk too much, i hate listening to you talk and you don't know when to shut up."

you sit there and take every word as if you deserve it. you can't even breathe, just staring down at your shaky hands, now starting to become damp with tears.

"stop bothering me right after class, and stop trying to stop trying to hold my hand all the time. it makes me cringe having to tell everyone else you're my girlfriend. and quit calling my name whenever you watch me play. it's embarrassing."

with a trembling breath, your voice falters, cracking like fragile glass as you softly gather the courage to speak. "...don't you have something nice to say?"

"something nice? you're pretty... i guess..."

and that completely broke you.

for all these years, you believed your relationship was filled with trust, never once feeling a hint of doubt about him. you believed wholeheartedly that he liked your endless rambling filling up the silence, or your randomness, or the little quirks that just make you you.

but clearly, that's not the case. it never was.

with tears blurring your vision, you steeled yourself and carefully made your way through his apartment, memories flooding back with each step. you grabbed what little was yours: your phone, charger, and headphones, clinging to these small, faint tokens of familiarity as you prepared to leave. you even abandon the oversized jacket you wore on your way here, which was his.

the red flags, how did you not see them? they were so obvious, and you still chose to ignore them. because he had a pretty face? because he wants to be treated like a fucking baby? you're sure as hell not going to act like his mother, and your sure as hell not going to let him treat you like his other boy toy.

"i'm so done with you." you try to stifle a sniffle, but a couple of tears escape, tracing an unwelcome path down your face. as you fumble with your shoes, your fingers tremble, and you nearly lose your balance more than once, the world around you blurring with each shaky movement. "don't even think about calling me anymore. don't wanna hear your stupid voice anymore..."

not a single hint of protest escaped nagi's lips. he remained perfectly still, his gaze locked onto you as you finally slammed the door shut behind you.

it was embarrassing, having all of his neighbours and him listen to your sobs echo through the hallway as you approach the metal doors, pressing the button multiple times. the wait felt like torture, your body aching to approach his doorstep once more. you enter, your hand on autopilot as you reach for the button right at the bottom.

"why...?" you find yourself whispering to your own reflection in the elevator mirror, dabbing at the tears glistening on your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. "if you didn't like me in the first place, why couldn't you just say so?"

all you did was talk, right? and everything went back to normal. he was no longer in your life, and you weren't in his.

but is that really what you wanted?

yesterday at 16:19

im bored

playyyy

yesterday at 3:27

hey :x

can we talk plz?

today at 13:40

ar u ignoring me?

2 missed voice calls at 13:42

bllk m.list

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader argue about their next steps

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is a combination of a few asks and takes place pre-OBX season 3. warning for some angst + arguing

Y/n ended her call with her manager Morgan with a sigh. It was a conversation she had been dreading, but she also knew was inevitable with the direction her career (and character on OBX) was moving. She had been dropping hints to Drew that her contract with OBX was ending, that she wanted to move onto some different projects, Caroline’s character arc was coming to a close…

“Hey, baby.” Drew smiled as y/n walked into their living room. He was sprawled out on the couch, his limbs propped on the ottoman and Charleston curled up at his side. Y/n smiled lightly at him, the grin not quite reaching her eyes in a way that made Drew’s brain sound off with bells and whistles.

“Um, I just got off the phone with Morgan,” y/n said quietly, Drew leaning in intently as she spoke, “and I don’t think I’m going to be renewing my contract for OBX.”

Drew’s face dropped, his eyes blinking rapidly as he stared at her in a stunned silence.

“W–what?” Drew said incredulously. Y/n sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair. Whether or not either of them cared to admit it, Outer Banks and shooting together was a big aspect of their relationship. Hell, it was how they met and how they spent months of the year practically inseparable on set.

“I– I just…” y/n swallowed harshly, “I want to try new things and I don’t want to feel tied down to—”

“‘Tied down’? Is that really how you feel?” Drew scoffed, shaking his head at her words.

“Drew, you know I don’t mean it like that.” Y/n sighed, her hand resting on Drew’s tensed shoulder.

“What do you mean, then?” Drew said. “‘Cause I’m trying to understand and it just sounds like you think the show’s a burden and—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/n said sharply. “I love the show and working with the cast— and working with you— but I just… it’s time for me to move on.”

“But I’m still stuck on this— what, this shitty, teenaged Netflix show? I can’t move on?” Drew shook his head. It was hard to not take it so personally when the show had given them so much, and for her to just leave like that… it hurt.

“This has nothing to do with how I think of you or your acting or career. You know you’re… a lot more important to the show than I am and you have a much more challenging role and—” y/n ran hand down her face with a sigh, “—this is 100% only to do with me and my career and my future.”

“But what about our future?” Drew said. “I just… don’t you think this is going to change things between us?”

“But it doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have to change anything.” Y/n said, taking Drew’s hand. His eyes closed, Drew ran his hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

“This is… this is really what you want?” Drew whispered, his thumb brushing along the back of y/n’s hand lightly.

“I think it’s the right step.” Y/n said quietly. Drew chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over his racing thoughts and questions before his gaze finally lifted to meet y/n’s. She could see a glint of sadness in his eyes, a recognition that the unique bond of the show would be changing.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t think about us when I was making this decision.” Y/n whispered, squeezing Drew’s hand lightly. Drew nodded, squeezing her hand back.

“If this is what you think is best, then I support you.” Drew said. Y/n let out a sigh of relief, cupping the side of Drew’s face as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel forgotten or—” Y/n began, but Drew cut her off, kissing her forehead chastely.

“I’m sorry for freaking out, it's just… I can’t imagine the show without you and it just scared me to think about it.” Drew said lowly. Y/n frowned, to which Drew shook his head, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. Her arms snaked around his torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles under her fingertips and hearing the thrum of his heart in her ear.

“We’ll figure it out, ok? I love you and we’ll figure it out.” Drew said simply. Y/n, squeeze him tighter.

“I love you. Thank you for supporting me, Drew. Really.” Y/n whispered.

[radioactiverats]

Thoughts: Nsf/w Ratchet 🌶️ 18+

Ratchet, being a medic, knows the ins and outs of every life form he studies. With humans in the base, he has taken it upon himself to study the human body (his grumbling doesn't fool you, you know he cares).

That being said, as part of his study, he is... adequately acquainted with the erogenous zones of the human form.

There has been something going on between you two for a while. An unspoken understanding, a closeness between the two of you that is different from your relationships to the others. What if? Your anatomy was surprisingly compatible. Ratchet chastises himself for letting his mind wander, and files the information away.

A few rocky misunderstandings and a heartfelt conversation later, you are... together. It's not as earth-shattering as you might think. You fit together like puzzle pieces, anyway - a sense of comfort settles between you both, a cornerstone in your relationship.

Ratchet's not exactly young, and you are mature enough to savour the entire aspect of taking it slow.

Shared kisses, to pressing yourselves together in berth - his warm chassis, hard, angular planes against your soft body as he cradles you to him and kisses you like you're the only thing that matters.

Touching - "I know what I'm doing, you know," Ratchet grumbles, even though you know it's just for show. "You have a perfectly capable medic here." And if that doesn't send a delicious shiver down your spine. He has indeed done his research. The first time he slides a finger into you - even mass displaced, one finger has you arching your back and gasping for breath - "Where is... should be around here... aha," Ratchet mutters, optics fixated on your expression - and you hear the sound of steam venting from his intake as he feels you clench around him, a moan tearing unbidden from your throat.

You agreed to work your way up together - to actual interfacing. With Ratchet's talented servos already having you trembling and on the edge, you deliriously wonder what it would feel like to take his spike.

Ratchet slowly glides his fingers in and out of you - hungrily taking in every gasp, every moan, every time your eyes flutter closed and your back arches in pleasure - chasing more of him, wanting more of him inside you.

"Humans... also have a node," he mutters to himself, and you nearly wail as he finds your sweet spot - Ratchet himself groans when he feels you tighten impossibly around his fingers. Primus, what would you feel like around his spike?

"That's it, sweetspark," he encourages, voice low. "Show me what you look like when you feel good."

He's a billion year old medic - he's seen it all. The idea that you can let go, without fear of embarrassment - when he murmurs to you that you're the most beautiful creature he's ever seen - you finally allow yourself to crash over the edge, face screwed up in pleasure, - and you manage to catch sight of Ratchet fixated intensely on your face, ex-venting heavily, realizing that your pleasure is precisely what he wants to see.

He works you through your release - motions gentling as you whine with overstimulation - yet, somehow, he knows you're not at your limit yet - his fingers continue their gentle ministrations until you're riding the wave again, gentler this time, moaning against his chassis as another release overtakes you.

You want to reciprocate, of course. You may not have the same resources to study cybertronian anatomy, but you hope Ratchet will allow you some hands-on lessons.

[lxndonorris]

games - Franco Colapinto

Y/N x Franco Colapinto Theme: Smutty, Teasing, Touching playing teasing games with Franco word count: 3520+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 open for requests :)

The hum of the paddock was always the same. Mechanics bustled between the garages, engineers huddled over laptops, and the faint smell of burnt rubber and motor oil lingered in the air. 

It was race weekend, and as a member of Williams' strategy department, your mind was consumed with tire degradation rates, fuel calculations, and weather forecasts.

This weekend was different, though; Franco Colapinto had been brought in as a replacement for the remainder of the season. It wasn't uncommon for drivers to shuffle in and out, but his arrival left you with mixed feelings.

While his talent was undeniable, his presence also underscored the volatility of the sport. 

One moment you're on top; the next, you're replaced.

You tried to keep your head down and focus on your work, but Franco had other ideas.

From the moment he stepped into the Williams garage, he exuded confidence—maybe too much. His charming smile seemed to disarm everyone around him, and his jokes quickly won over the mechanics. 

You wanted to be immune to it. After all, you weren't here to be dazzled by a driver; you were here to perform as best as possible. 

Still, there was something about his energy that made him hard to ignore.

Friday morning was spent poring over practice session data. By the time the clock struck noon, you were desperate for a break. Slipping away from the chaos, you found a quiet corner of the hospitality area. The cool breeze and a cup of coffee were all you needed to reset your mind.

But, of course, that peace was short-lived.

"Found you," came a smooth voice from behind.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Franco had a knack for making his presence known.

"What do you want, Colapinto?" You asked, keeping your tone neutral as you sipped your coffee.

"Is that how you greet all our teammates?" He teased, sliding into the chair across from you. 

He didn't wait for an invitation, naturally.

"I'm not sure we're teammates," you countered, setting your cup down. "You're here to drive; I'm here to strategize."

"Semantics," he said with a shrug. "We're both here for the same goal, aren't we?"

His casual confidence was maddening, but you refused to let it get under your skin.

"Did you need something, or are you just here to disrupt my break?"

He grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Maybe I just wanted to get to know you better. You seem... interesting."

"Interesting?" You echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's vague."

"Charming, sharp, beautiful. Should I go on?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"Flattery doesn't work on me."

"Oh, I don't believe that for a second," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. "But if it doesn't, I'll just have to try harder."

It was infuriating how effortlessly he pushed your buttons. And yet, you couldn't deny the thrill of it. 

If he wanted to play this game, you'd make sure you won.

Careful, Franco," you said, letting your fingers brush over his arm as you stood. "You don't want to bite off more than you can chew."

His breath hitched just barely—a subtle reaction, but one you didn't miss. He tilted his head, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. 

"I think I can handle it."

"Good luck, then," you said, walking away before he could respond.

---

The day went on, and you managed to avoid Franco for the most part. But by the time the evening rolled around, you found yourself thinking about your brief encounter. 

He was charming, funny, and annoyingly attractive. And yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that getting involved with him was a bad idea. He was a temporary replacement, after all. What was the point in letting yourself get tangled up in something that might not last?

But Franco wasn't the type to give up easily.

---

Saturday morning brought more practice sessions and strategy meetings. You were buried in data when Franco strolled into the engineering office, his helmet tucked under one arm.

"You look busy," he said, leaning casually against the desk.

"I am," you replied without looking up.

"Maybe I can help," he offered, his tone playful.

"Unless you've suddenly become an expert in race strategy, I doubt it."

"I might surprise you," he said, stepping closer.

You glance up at him, your lips curving into a smirk.

"Oh, I'm sure you're full of surprises."

His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to crackle. Then, just as quickly, you returned your focus to the laptop in front of you, leaving him standing there.

But Franco wasn't one to be ignored. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"You know, if you keep teasing me like this, I might start to think you enjoy it."

You turned to face him, your faces inches apart. 

"And if I do?"

His grin widened. "Then I'd say we're going to have a lot of fun."

With that, he straightened up and walked away, leaving you to wonder what exactly you'd gotten yourself into.

---

A few hours later, the buzz of post-qualifying energy filled the air as team members analyzed data and discussed strategies for the race.

The car had shown steady performance, and Franco had managed to secure P13—a good result considering the car's limitations this season and his inexperience with it all.

You sat in the corner of the engineering office, reviewing telemetry and tire degradation patterns when the door swung open, revealing Franco. His white racing suit clung to him, the logos proudly displayed on his chest. His hair was damp, slightly tousled from the helmet, and a faint sheen of sweat made him look effortlessly rugged.

"P13," he announced with a grin, his voice bright as he strode into the room. "Not bad for the new guy, huh?"

You glance up from your screen and nodded.

"Not bad at all. You might even be worth keeping around."

His grin widened as he leaned against the desk beside you.

"High praise coming from you. I was beginning to think I'd never win you over."

"You still haven't," you said, letting your lips curve into a smirk. "But you're off to a decent start."

He chuckled, his dark eyes locked on yours.

"I'll take that as a challenge."

As the room cleared out, people heading off to dinner or more meetings, Franco lingered. His teasing continued, lighthearted at first, but his words grew bolder with each exchange.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I think you like having me around more than you let on."

"And why would you think that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you're still here talking to me instead of running off like everyone else," he said, his tone smug. "Admit it—you’re intrigued."

You leaned back in your chair, studying him.

"Intrigued? Maybe, impressed? Not quite."

His laugh was soft, and he leaned in closer, his arms crossed as he rested them on the desk. 

"You're tough to crack, you know that?"

"Maybe you're just not trying hard enough," you shot back, your tone playful.

Beneath the table, an idea crossed your mind.

Without a word, you let your foot drift toward him. Slowly, deliberately, you dragged the tip of your shoe along his calf. You felt him tense ever so slightly, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second before returning, sharper than before.

His eyes darkened, but he played it cool.

"Oh, so that's how you want to play?" he murmured.

You didn't respond, instead letting your foot continue its slow journey up his leg, brushing over his knee and toward his thigh. His breathing quickened, though he did his best to hide it. When your foot reached just beneath the edge of his suit, you stopped, withdrawing just enough to leave him wanting more.

"You were saying?" you asked, your voice innocent.

He cleared his throat, his grin never fading.

"I think you're enjoying this even more than I am."

You tilted your head, feigning indifference. 

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

"How about we find out?"

Your heart skipped, but you kept your composure.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Meet me later," he said, his words deliberate. "My motorhome."

For a moment, you let the suggestion hang in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Then, with a coy smile, you leaned back in your chair.

"We'll see."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he stood. In one swift motion, he unzipped his suit just enough to grant you a glimpse of the blue fireproofs beneath.

"You're going to drive me crazy, aren't you?"

"Only if you're lucky," you replied, watching as he walked away.

As the door closed behind him, you exhaled deeply, your mind racing. You didn't want to admit it, but the thought of meeting him sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore.

---

An hour later, you found yourself standing outside Franco's motorhome, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. Your heart was pounding. Was this the right decision? Yet, something about him—his charm, his confidence, his maddening ability to make you second-guess everything—had drawn you here.

You knocked, the sound feeling louder than it should in the quiet paddock. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was.

Franco stood in the doorway, still in his racing gear, the upper half loosely hanging down around his waist. The tight blue Nomex undershirt clung to his chest and arms, highlighting every contour. His hair was still slightly damp, and his grin was as infuriatingly cocky as ever.

"You came," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his voice laced with amusement.

"You invited me," you replied, your tone light but guarded.

"And I didn't think you'd actually show up," he admitted, stepping aside to let you in. "Come on, make yourself comfortable."

You hesitated for only a second before stepping into the motorhome. It was cozy, the space designed for function but with enough personal touches to make it feel lived-in. A small table and couch sat to one side, a kitchenette on the other. The faint scent of something fresh—maybe soap—lingered in the air.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you turned to find Franco watching you, his arms crossed and that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not bad," you said, glancing around. "I expected it to be messier."

He chuckled, stepping closer.

"What can I say? I like to keep things in order. Well, most things."

You raised an eyebrow. "And the things you don't?"

"Those tend to be more fun," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken again.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"You're relentless, you know that?"

"And you're impossible to ignore," he countered, closing the distance between you.

The teasing back-and-forth began almost immediately. His fingers brushed against your back as he passed you, a casual touch that sent shivers down your spine. 

You retaliated by letting your hand linger on his arm, tracing the toned muscle beneath the fabric. His grin only widened.

"You're not making this easy," he said, his voice low.

"Good," you replied, leaning against the small table. "I wouldn't want to."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours as he rested his hands on either side of you, caging you in without actually touching you.

"You're going to drive me insane," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Maybe that's the point."

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension. Slowly, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. Your heart raced, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your back again, this time more deliberate, more lingering.

You let your hand slide up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Your fingers drifted to his shoulders, then down his arms, before finally brushing over his thigh.

His breath hitched, his composure faltering ever so slightly, and you knew you had him.

But just as his lips were about to meet yours, you pulled away, stepping aside with a teasing smile.

"Not so fast," you said, your voice light and playful.

His eyes darkened, and he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. 

"You're cruel, you know that?"

"Am I?" You ask innocently, though the gleam in your eyes betrayed you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mingled with amusement.

"You're going to be the death of me."

You shrugged, moving toward the couch and sitting down, crossing one leg over the other. 

"Maybe. But you'll enjoy every second of it."

Franco stood there for a moment, his hands on his hips, as if deciding whether to let you win this round. Finally, he let out a breath, his smirk returning.

"You're trouble," he said, joining you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. "And I like it."

You lean closer, your voice a whisper. 

"You have no idea."

The air between you felt electric, the tension thick as you leaned in just enough to close the distance without actually touching him. 

Franco stayed still, watching you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. His restraint was admirable, but you could see the flicker of desire in his eyes. 

He knew you were playing with him, and yet he let you—whether it was curiosity, confidence, or sheer temptation, you couldn't tell.

You let your hands roam over his chest, your fingers trailing along the lines of his toned muscles beneath the fabric of his Nomex shirt. His breath grew shallow, his chest rising and falling in time with the slow, deliberate movements of your hands.

You lingered at his collarbone, letting your fingers drift upward to his neck, where you caressed the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the faintest hint of a stubble grazing your fingertips.

With your other hand, you let your fingers slide down to his thigh, brushing over the firm muscle just barely. The touch was light, teasing, a mere whisper of contact that made him shift slightly under your hand.

His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just watched you, his gaze dark and intense, as if daring you to push him further.

"You're quiet," you said softly, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw.

"You're in control," he replied, his voice rougher than usual, a low hum that sent a thrill down your spine. "For now."

The confidence in his tone made you smirk. 

You let your fingers on his thigh press down a little more, moving in slow circles that barely grazed where you knew he wanted them. He shifted again, his composure slipping just enough to make your teasing worth it.

"Franco," you murmured, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his ear. "You're enjoying this too much."

He chuckled, the sound soft but strained.

"You don't know half of it."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still exploring his jawline while your other hand continued its slow, deliberate movements on his thigh.

His eyes were locked on yours, his restraint remarkable given the circumstances. 

It was a game now—one you weren't sure either of you wanted to win.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that was soft but purposeful. He hesitated yet gave in, his hand moving to the small of your back as he deepened the kiss, his restraint giving way to the desire he'd been holding back.

The moment felt charged, every touch, every movement heightened by the tension that had been building between you.

Your hand on his thigh moved slightly, your fingers brushing against him just enough to draw a sharp intake of breath from him. 

You smiled against his lips, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted. You let your touch linger, a faint stroke that sent a shiver through him.

When you finally pull back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his breath shallow as he looked at you with a mix of satisfaction and frustration.

"Was that what you wanted?" you asked, your voice low, teasing.

He smirked, running a hand through his tousled hair. 

"It's a start."

Your fingers, still on his thigh, pressed down a little more deliberately, tracing slow, deliberate circles over the firm muscle. He tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching just barely, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, a challenge glinting in the dark depths.

"Patience," you murmured, letting your fingers drift a little higher, teasingly brushing along the edge of where he wanted them most.

His jaw tightened, and you could feel the restraint it took for him to let you lead, to let you play this game.

"You're relentless," he whispered, his voice rough and low.

"Only because it's fun," you replied, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

You leaned in again, letting your lips hover just over his, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against yours. At the same time, you let your fingers slide up his thigh once more, giving him the faintest, gentlest squeeze. 

His breath hitched again, sharper this time, and you couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped you.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice tight, his control fraying at the edges.

You didn't answer, instead letting your hand linger, your touch slow and deliberate as you felt the tension coiling in him, the way his body reacted to every subtle movement. 

Your other hand moved back to his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the tight, slightly damp fabric of his shirt, before sliding upward to cup his jaw.

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and you took the opportunity to lean in, pressing your lips to his in another slow, lingering kiss. 

This time, he didn't hold back. 

His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a hunger that made your heart race. His other hand cupped your face, his fingers warm and steady against your skin.

But just as he was beginning to take control, you pulled back, breaking the kiss and pulling away from his touch. Your fingers trailed down his chest one last time before sliding back to his thigh, giving him one final squeeze. 

You smirked as his eyes opened, dark and heavy with frustration and need.

"So much trouble. You're impossible," he said, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you replied, standing up slowly, letting your fingers linger on his thigh until the last possible moment. "But you're still letting me win."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch. 

At first, he exhaled and raised an arm, stroking the back of his head. The movement made his toned chest stand out even more, the fabric of his undershirt clinging to him as he stretched slightly, trying to shake off the tension you'd left behind.

"I'm letting you think you're winning."

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow, watching him closely.

As he leaned back against the sofa, his head resting against the cushions, he let out a long, steadying breath. His hand moved almost instinctively to his chest, following the path your fingers had traced moments before.

His fingers slid over the fabric of his nomex shirt, pressing lightly against his chest as though trying to capture the sensations you'd left behind.

His other hand drifted lower, brushing over his stomach and coming to rest near the visible strain inside his suit. His bulge was unmistakable, the tension evident even through the tightly fitted material. 

"Oh, is that what you're telling yourself?"

He smirked, the heat in his eyes unwavering.

"You'll see."

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening as he let his hand hover over his bulge, his fingers flexing slightly.

It was as though he was chasing the lingering heat of your touch, replaying every teasing stroke, every deliberate squeeze in his mind.

The ghost of your fingers on his thigh, the press of your hand against his jaw, the softness of your lips—all of it hung in the air between you, even though you stood up.

He exhaled sharply, his hand brushing against the strain, his body responding to the memory of the game you'd just played. A low chuckle escaped his lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Next time, I'll make sure to win."

You laughed, stepping toward the door.

"Goodnight, Franco."

Goodnight," he called after you, his voice rich with amusement. As you slipped out of the motorhome and into the cool night air, you couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

This was a game you weren't sure either of you wanted to end.

[projectjasper]

ARCHER'S (UNHINGED) STARLYMPICS 2024 HIGHLIGHTS

for those curious enough to read but not curious enough to watch

general sweet moments between so many different people who we don't often see together that will be lost to time soon, so i suggest you seek them out if you wish to 'awwww' a little

both teams - 'lightning cheetah' and 'shadow eagle' - having a pair to represent their team, except lightning cheetah's was pond & phuwin and shadow eagle's was nanon & tu, which i (as a lightning cheetah fan) can only interpret as shadow eagle being homophobic /j

skynani being on different teams (likely because they were composed before gmmtv realised how popular they would be) and the whole operation trying to constantly find a way to place them into the same context despite it

some participants straight up wearing jeans, indicating that they do not at all give a shit about the sports aspect

the members of the two teams always supporting each other despite the competitive nature of it all

most people being really bad at basketball (with the exception of joss, gawin, and tee) and football (with the exception of fourth)

pond (lightning cheetah) willingly carrying members of shadow eagle on his back and helping everyone stand up before returning to the game (gods bless him, he was not meant for competitive sport)

a mini-game (that did not affect the results, to be fair) which entirely depended on whether the person covering a basket was tall enough to dodge the ball aiming directly at it

marc (lightning cheetah) celebrating aou (shadow eagle) scoring, because 'we are means love' ykwim

phuwin missing his shot but pond (never having scored before) catching the ball and nonchalantly throwing it directly into the basket in a move that can only be described as impressive in the literal last minute of the basketball game (their team still lost, but hey, it was cool as hell anyway)

book only coming out to "play" for one minute, not doing anything, and ending up with a gold metal and an award, because his team still won - as it should be, btw, he is people's princess

namtan coming to the event in bright lime green kicks (and NOT coming to play, in the metaphorical sense), winning women's racing and thus guaranteeing the only award her team (lightning cheetah) would get in the entire starlympics

ciize (lightning cheetah) wearing a cheetah print headband and skirt with boots, which is definitely not athletic wear, but looked really fucking iconic, so who cares

chen doing actually quite well as a goalie and making me cheer for my chosen team's competitor until nanon suddenly decided to take his place, promptly missing two goals

fourth carrying the entire football game on his back, scoring all three goals for his team, and literally physically not being allowed back on the field in the first half of the second part of the game

win metawin scoring a goal in ridiculous expensive shoes that have little bags on them

nanon, despite being a goalie, showing off on the field multiple times, with no detriment to the game, as everyone was so bad at football that they couldn't even score a goal while the goalie was literally not at his gate

lightning cheetah's goalie paul seeming really good and almost (indirectly) convincing me to name my firstborn after him, only to miss every single penalty kick in a move that could only be described as him suddenly deliberately switching teams

a series of penalty kicks, most of which were disappointing to both teams, excluding the ones, where ohm (footballer) went up against nanon (goalie) and did not manage to score, followed immediately by leng kicking nanon in the balls with a football during his penalty kick, which was - and i'm sorry to say this - hilarious for all the reasons that you're thinking of

credit where credit is due, fourth and gemini's penalty kicks were also great, and they were the only lightning cheetah footballers to actually score for their team (gemini did that while wearing converse too, which is insane)

lightning cheetah easily winning the mini-game of tug of war, with great sapol looking so nonchalant and relaxed (read: extremely hot) while playing it that i am sure he gave at least a couple people a heart attack

despite there being only two teams, the team of losers was consistently awarded with "silver medals" for their... loss / winning of second place (out of two)?

in general, there were four awards: for basketball, football, men's racing, and women's racing - shadow eagle won all but one (women's racing)

the concert after the games was generally very wonderful, with everyone you can think of (and even some people you can't think of) having their own performances

whoever decided on the lineup definitely cooked because we got 'sadistic' by project jasp•er as the opening number and such amazing back-to-back performances as markpoon & aouboom and winnysatang & forcebook

prim & tu starting to perform 'tilt' (23.5 ost) together, seeming iconic at first, until nanon joined them out of nowhere, which probably constitutes that performance as some kind of a homophobic hate crime

phuwin, rushing out of the green room to watch project jasp•er do their first ever live performance, and pond later rushing out of the green room to watch phuwin perform 'to you'

pond wearing new light brown contacts, which i will forgive, as they are a step in the right direction (no contacts)

force wearing a show-stopping tits-out outfit during his and book's performance (seriously, look it up)

first & khaotung singing 'destroy love' together and it sounding so incredible that i will now forever miss first's voice in that song when listening to the regular version

gemini & fourth deciding to sing gemini's song (someone like me) together for some reason, with gem completely forgetting that it was now a duet and stealing fourth's part jjgkfdjglfjdgk

'charm' by lykn, joong & pond being so iconic that it was first performed in full during the concert and then once again as the closing performance

me having so much unbridled fun despite the whole thing lasting around eight hours <3

[megumimania]

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA

summary: secret santa takes a twist this year as you exchange gifts with the kyoto school. leaving you rushing as you try to find a gift in time.

tags: fluff, reader being a terrible procrasinator, satoshoko crumbs, todo being takada chan’s biggest supporter, can you tell that secret santa is the bane of my existence?, todo being todo, megumi and yuji being fortnite merchants, nobara and reader maximising their joint slay and gojo’s credit card!

a/n: after scrambling around westfields for the past two days, i thought id share the same emotions in this fic!

“i am never doing this again.” you tell nobara as you weave through the crowd at the mall. yelling ‘excuse me’s’ or apologising as you squeeze past people to get through.

the mall is packed to the brim, with shoppers racing to get their last minute tidbits for christmas before the shops close before the holidays. nobara looks up from her phone, giving you a look that screamed ‘girl be so serious rn’

“you know you said this last year right?” she points out before she stops to look at pair of cute earrings, taking a picture of them. which makes you huff in response because you know that she’s right.

this time last year you were literally on the verge of a nervous breakdown because you could not find anything decent at the mall. this being coupled with the bright flourescent lights and the massive crowds and the loud music sucked up your energy real fast.

you ended giving megumi a sweater that was poorly wrapped and a christmas card that was signed with your tears. at least megumi appreciated the effort that went into your present for him.

“but that was last year, i was a whole different person then with a different set of responsibilities.” you playfully roll your eyes as you mutter to yourself annoyedly “gosh can’t people learn and grow anymore?”

you realise that you’ve lost nobara a long time ago. as she is now talking to the sales person about those tiffany earrings, a trademark tiffany blue bag swinging around with her as she enthuses about jewellery with the sales rep.

whilst you do love seeing her in her element when it comes to fashion, you had pressing matters to consider like what the hell you were going to get todo for christmas.

yes that todo.

this year gojo and utahime for some odd reason, to which megumi attributed to a sure sign that the end times were soon upon us, decided in order for the two schools to see eye to eye with each other that there should be a secret santa gift exchange between the two schools.

they announced this in november giving you ample time to meet up with todo and get to know each other and figure out what he liked. you let him pick all the locations for your meet ups as you read in a book somewhere that a person’s choice of location says a lot about them as a person.

and boy did todo’s choice of locations have a fuck ton to say about him.

in the 6/8 times you met up with todo over this period, he took you to a total of three locations: a takada chan listening party, the gym and a takada chan themed night at the gym.

seeing grown men belt their hearts out to takada’s lyrics whilst doing twenty reps of bicep curls was one way to spend a lousy thursday evening but you learned a lot about him.

the first most obvious thing was his love for takada chan, the second thing was that he smelt really good, like immensely good for a guy which lowkey pissed you off and the third thing was that he was a self care buff, especially when it comes to health and fitness.

in fact in the first twenty minutes of your second meetup, he managed to devise with you a skincare regime based on your skin type.

you were as flattered as you were somewhat offended but when you began to finally implement his tips and tricks, you saw a massive difference in your skin. so you couldn’t really be mad.

and what did todo learn from you?

just your type in men and women, you didn’t know what he was gonna do with your vague description of your ideal partner being “sexy as fuck” but todo was a man of many surprises so you just had to wait and see.

so this was propped up to be easier than ever, you could simply buy him some takada merch and you’d be on your merry way.

however your idea of a easy ride with this gift exchange came to a screeching halt when todo told you that he didn’t want a “takada related gift” because there was more to him than his love for an idol.

you were thrown for a loop, two weeks before the gift exchange and all the takada chan paraphernalia that was holding space in your dorm room had to go back. thank god the return window for some of these items were still open.

the rest you had to sell on facebook marketplace meeting up with all sorts of people behind the school to sell the merchandise.

nobara and maki joked that you looked like a shady drug dealer and they were partially right but trying to haul a life size cut out of takada into the back of someone’s car really ruined the allure of it all.

if dopamine was a drug you’d be rich, you really underestimated how much people’s happiness came from other people especially when it came to an idol/famous celebrity.

your last minute pursuit for a christmas gift for todo led you to a book store. despite his jock-esque character, you later found out that he’s really smart and what do all smart people love? books. yes it was stereotypical but as you perused the sections you found a book that you thought he’d like.

“hey nobara, do you think todo is a self help type of guy?” you turned around showing the book to her. you both knew the answer, even though you doubted that he needed the ‘help’ provided within the books, he’d definitely enjoy the premise of the books.

nobara takes the book from you turning the book around to read the blurb, handing it back to you with a shrug. “the guy has enough energy and passion to power the whole of tokyo, i think he’d like this.”

and with that the book and some other items, you got in your last minute rush were secured. once you got back you wrapped the gifts and left them by the office, ignoring gojo calling you and nobara to his office.

he probably just noticed the 1.6 million yen that left his account after you and nobara bought matching van cleef bracelets at the mall but he’ll live, both of you combined have spent more on his card than a measly 1.6 million.

“gojo, leave the kids alone!” shoko instructed him in that stern doctor voice she only used when she was in the middle of healing several patients at once. it was the only voice he would respond to and respect.

“but shoko, they spent almost 2 million yen on my card!” he whined, gojo always being one for the theatrics. everybody knew that gojo’s wealth was almost boundless, the 2 million he lost today would be made back in a matter of days.

you rolled your eyes as you headed over to chill with megumi and yuji in the common room, who were in the middle of an intense game of fortnite to notice your presence.

it was finally time for the gift exchange, you and todo sat in the canteen as you finally exchanged gifts between one another. “merry christmas todo!” you chirped as you handed him his gifts.

you watched him open the presents studying his reaction closely to see if he liked them or not. he finally looked up, unshed tears brimming in his eyes as he held the self help book and the set of candles in his hands.

“this is the nicest and most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten for me.” he sniffles as he reads the card, hands shaking slightly. you were slightly concerned at the level of reaction he was showing. was this normal?

“you even wrote this on a takada chan christmas card, this is too much. thank you.” he pulls you into a hug that knocks the air out of your lungs, you bask in the praise for the time being, if only he knew the hell you went through to get these gifts.

“you’re welcome.” you reply after a while, he finally releases you and watches you open your present with wide eyes, it was perfume alongside some skin care goodies and such.

you sprayed the perfume on your wrist, letting it sit for a couple of minutes in order to smell the main notes. whilst at first the perfume smelt sweet and flowery, after a while the more stronger notes of amber, cacao and sandalwood came through.

“woah this is…” you smelt the perfume on your wrist trying to find the word for this all alluring, all consuming scent. it was so sweet yet so seductive.

“sexy as fuck?” he replied, a shit eating grin forming on his face as he knew that he made the right choice. part of you wanted to groan at the poor attempt of a joke but this was christmas time—a jovial time so you let him have this one.

“how did you figure this perfume out from those two words?” you asked still curious but he leans back on the chair with a simple shrug, chuckling slightly. “even though your type is shallow as fuck, I realised that deep down you are a cool person—so I just got a perfume that exuded that vibe.”

you smile at the compliment and the acknowledgment that your type was shallow as fuck because it was spot on.

you were on a high, this time your procrastination finally didn’t come back to bite you in the ass, since you managed to get todo’s whole set of gifts in time for this christmas exchange event.

but just as you’re about to pat yourself on the back todo speaks up once again.

“hey…uh is there any reason why you left the tag on the candle?”

shit.

well you can’t win at everything.

[loolilyumm]

I CARE SO MUCH ABOUT YOUR CAP 3 PLEASE MORE IF YOU WOULDNT MIND???

JUMPING UP AND DOWN IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED I WILL SO HAPPILY YAP ABOUT HIM

THIS IS AGENT THREE! Most of the people in the NSS call him “Three” or “Captain,” but his real name is Reese.

(SIDE NOTE- I really have to do proper character sheets for them. Please stay tuned for that!!)

He was 15 when he was hired by Cuttlefish and 17 during the events of octo expansion. Now he is a mature 20 year old inkling. So so mature.

He mains the E-liter and typically uses chargers or shooters.

Despite his “cool guy” persona, agent 8 brings out a different side of him… the loser baby side…!!! In Splatoon 2 When the two of them fell underground, Reese was actually the one to find 8, and he had to rescue her from sanitization chambers (you know, the octoling selection screen at the beginning of octo expansion?) but couldn’t save her in time to restore her memory. But she was (relatively) okay! And since then he’s been really protective of her. 8 was registered as a test subject and Reese had to stay behind and watch as she went through rigorous testing.

At that point Reese was really descending into a dark place after realizing that he wasn’t really the big hero he thought that he was. But 8 helped him through it and they formed a really close bond deep in the underground. (Cuttlefish was also there third wheeling. LOL) Reese started to feel flustered and shy around her. He’d never felt that way before, and definitely didn’t expect it. And it CONFUSED HIM!! He was like wtf? Why is this happening to meeee waahwaahhhhh ueueueuee

And then y’know……the rest is history! The blender incident happened and it was the scariest moment of his life. Reese was about to lose the only two people he had ever cared about. He has a tendency to throw himself recklessly into dangerous situations, so he just THREW himself at the blender and well. It worked! In my version, he never got knocked out, and he travelled upwards with 8 and cuttlefish until about the 4th phase. Then he and cuttlefish got separated from 8 and attacked by Tartar - that’s how he was brainwashed.

The battle between agent 3 and agent 8 was BRUTAL. Reese harbors extreme amounts of guilt for what went down - he blames himself a lot and thinks he should have been stronger. 8 got really hurt but she managed to save him and THEN save the whole world. #girlboss! Period.

The two of them are working through the events of octo expansion together! If you want me to yap about 8 too I will gladly do that. (Also maybe I should write a fanfic about it. I am cringe but I am free.)

Cut to 3 years into the future - During splatoon 3, Reese becomes captain of the NSS. He doesn’t think he deserves the title but is honored to accept it.

The new agent 3 that they recruited reminds Reese a lot of himself. Her name is Margot. She’s the quiet kid that he used to be. He sort of takes her under his wing and teaches her how to defend herself and her comrades. She is like a younger sister to him. They bicker and bond just like siblings. I LOVE THEM.

I actually haven’t really thought through what happens during the events of splatoon 3. I’m running with the idea that agent 4 and agent 8 go missing during the events of side order. (I know it’s all virtual but like I might add other things to it IDK IDK) I don’t really know yet. But Reese is a good captain and he can find them ☺️☺️

BUT YEA. AFTER ALL THT IS SAID AND DONE - they’re the NSS! And they are all besties.

Thank u for coming to my ted talk.

[seokmn]

chapter 05.

wc: 0.5k words

warning: curse words

“you should try this one too!” chan showed you a strange and ugly dress while smirking. you looked at him dead in the eyes with a blank expression, “babe, come on”

he chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, “it would look great on you!”

“i would never put this on my beautiful body. i have love for myself, unlike anyone who would buy this thing..” he chuckled once more and nodded, agreeing with you. “then you should prove the ones you already have in hands, ill be waiting here. and don’t forget to show me every single one, okay?”

you nodded and went straight to one of the dressing rooms of the store to try out the pieces you and your boyfriend thought were pretty and would look good on you.

chan sat on the armchair and grabbed his phone, wanting to distract himself while waiting for you to come out of the dressing room. “what the hell..?” he muttered to himself when he saw the bunch of notifications he had. he opened the groupchat and as he read the texts all he could think was oh no, what did i do.

chan immediately opened the twitter and deleted the post as fast as he could, even tho he knew that deleting at that moment werent going to do that much of a difference. he ran his fingers through his hair and looked conflicted, what would he do after this? did his manager know about that tweet already? he checked his messages once again, eyes widening as he saw his manager’s text. he probably did know about that tweet. fuck.

chan was so lost in his own – possibly ruined – world that he didnt even hear you calling out his name or see you in front of him wearing one of the shirts you got to try on until you shook your hand right in front of his face, “earth calling channie, i repeat, earth calling channie” he blinked a few times and looked at you, his expression immediately changed and he smiled, hiding his real state of desperation.

“woah.. i liked it! give me a little spin” he said standing up and trying his best to focus only on you and the shirt you were wearing. you happily spun around to show him the shirt, “so? what do you think?”

“totally loved. it really suits you, babe” you gave him some small claps of happiness and smiled, “im going to try the other ones. keep waiting and please dont zoom out again!” he gave you thumbs up and sat on the armchair once again to wait for you.

he stayed like that for the rest of the day, acting like everything was fine and being the amazing boyfriend he always was to you while in the back of his mind he was dying of anxiety. he didnt want to worry you or ruin your evening and maybe he was overreacting, right? maybe people didn’t actually care about the tweet he posted on the wrong account and maybe his manager wanted to talk to him about another thing, who knows? all he knew at that moment was that he needed to enjoy the time with you in order to relax and not let the anxiety get the best of him.

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS

yn and chan date since their freshman year and are truly high school sweethearts, but will chan’s dream of becoming an idol get between their relationship?

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: @ivehypnosis @k1eev @ateez-atiny380 @noircheols @222brainrot @odxrilove @vixensss

[impossiblepackage]

Speaking of boat games, both Sailwind and Following Seas absolutely qualify. Both games about sailing with a focus on realism. Sailwind is somewhat more simplified, with the controls functioning somewhat similarly to sea of thieves. But each individual sail has its own set of controls, and you control them by letting lines out via winches, using the slack in the lines and the wind to set the angle of the sails. The sails all function in a realistic way, with the angle to the wind determining the forces exerted on the sail and the wind against the body of your ship even having an effect. You also have to figure out how to load your cargo without capsizing, and the simple survival mechanics mean you have to factor in supplies as well. You must navigate using tools, like a quadrant pointed at the North Star, or timing the difference between local noon and noon on your chronometer. If you’re not careful, you could wind up accidentally going backwards by sailing too close to directly into the wind. The game currently has 7 different ships available, and 4 archipleagos to sail between in real time at real speeds (though the distances are compressed to a playable degree). Oh and you can customize the way your ship is rigged to all sorts of realistic or insane combinations. Somebody on the Sailwind discord once recommended me check out a US Navy sailing manual from the 1800s for tips on managing the brig.

Following Seas is currently just a demo, but almost everything I said about Sailwind applies. Key differences are there’s only one ship right now, only 3 islands to sail between, and a vaguely spooky vibe. It’s a tech demo in its current state basically. But holy shit dude. Rather than using winches to set the angle of your sails, each of your two sails has two lines attached to the ends, and you must physically move those lines to different tiedown points and let out the proper amount of slack to get the sail arranged the way you want it. It is not afraid of letting you just do everything wrong. And it doesn’t approximate wind forces on the sails. It physically simulates the sails and the way the wind fills them, and the way the shape of the sail would affect how much force gets applied to them. You can fuck it up royally and get your sails all fouled up in the rigging and have to take the time to untangle it all. It’s frankly a beautiful piece of highly specific work targeted towards a very specific interest and it’s amazing.

I have developed a new name for a not so new concept.

The "Games4Sickos metagenre"

This is the thing that unites all the super-detailed games like Dwarf Fortress, Caves of Qud, Aurora 4X, etc. etc. etc.

If a game has an obsessive love for the intricate details of something, it might be considered part of this.

It's a metagenre, because it covers games that (can) play very differently to each other. They tend to skew towards strategy and management, but that's not a necessary part. The only necessary part is complexity and the fun of attaining mastery over it.

Simulators seem like a natural fit, but many games that are [Thing] Simulator simplify things very much. However Microsoft Flight Sim and The Bus seem like standouts that are Games4Sickos.

There is a strong undercurrent of Solo Developer Pursuing Their One Thing, which is a setup that is productive in making Games4Sickos, but again, not strictly the only way to get there.

Also, suggest me some G4S, my distractable brain needs more landing points.

[operator-report]

cw: ableism, Worm spoilers through Scourge 19.7

Thinking about Marissa Newland in the club tonight (Saturday afternoon). What a fast track for needing to go lie down.

Do you ever think about what it takes to be able to kill your best friend? What would your relationship with that friend need to be like? ("Sundancer spoke up, calling out, 'Remember the promise we made together.' Noelle didn’t reply.) How would you need to think of her? ("Hate these runs. People look at me funny when I bring a cart of meat and only meat.") How badly would you need to want to go back to your old life? ("How's life among the Travelers?" "Intense. Violent. Lonely.")

The Travelers entire team dynamic is a hideous torment nexus, but the collapse of Noelle and Marissa's friendship really gets to me. Going from Marissa always making sure Noelle ate to Marissa being ashamed of the food runs is agony. Marissa was Noelle's friend who cared for her, and cared about her, the most. Now, when Marissa talks to Noelle, she doesn't respond. Marissa can hold Dinah while she's sick in Noelle's cage, but can no longer reach out to Noelle. All care is completely cut off - Noelle is only a disease, who needs to be managed and grieved.

Marissa hates hurting people, but she can kill Noelle. Taylor just has to first tell Marissa that Noelle is no longer herself. (“She’s… she was my best friend.” “She’s not Noelle anymore.”)

Of course, it's so much more nightmarishly complicated than that. Marissa isn't a bad person, here - she's handling a horrible situation imperfectly. Marissa still loves Noelle. She insists to Taylor over and over again that Noelle is her friend, despite everything. But for one hideous moment, Marissa has to believe that Noelle isn't there, that the thing that Noelle has become isn't really her friend, isn't a person, before she can do the deed. And then Marissa goes right back to mourning.

It's awful. It's an incredibly well-executed tragedy. I don't really have much of a point beyond that, other than, damn. It really does suck that Noelle's friends - even her friend who best understood her struggles - no longer see Noelle as a person. Can't believe that's what killed her, in the end.

[strawbebbiesart]

june/ july / august 💌🥪🦢

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

ok, once more I realize that my own kindness and friendliness has been taken for implied consent, and as always, the troubles that are brewing now are connected to OCs.

So let me be clear and frank one more time, one last time, because I have NO INTENTION of going through what I went through in 2021.

While I am always immensely happy that my Original Characters are enjoyed and that they can serve as source of inspiration, they are NOT however a template for anyone to base their OCs on.

They are not something that you can take in their entirety, change whatever suits you, and then call it your own.

It doesn't work like that, especially because, and allow me to reiterate this once and for all, OCs are *immensely* personal.

They are an extention of the soul of the person that creates them.

So taking whatever suits your fancy and use it for the "aesthetic" or the "vibes" is immensely disrespectful and, dare I say, rather impertinent, especially when both characters happen to belong to the same fandom.

Now, I am not talking about certain tropes and subjects that are typical of certain genre, of course not.

We are all somehow reinveting something that's already there when we work with OCs and stories.

What I am talking about is taking certain specific idiosyncrasies that make a certain character unique, change them to suit your character, and then being SO IMPERTINENT to just call it your own and parading it around without even having the courtesy to quote the person that has inspired you, taking advantage of the fact that I am just a small creator with a small following.

This is a huge No No for me.

Huge.

I appreciate that other creators might have a different opinion or perspective when it comes to OCs, and while I do not share entirely in that, I sure as hell respect it.

But allow me to be crystal clear: if this happens to me, like it had in 2021, that's the *easiest* way to lose all respect I might harbour for you, and I seldomly get mad or angry.

I am always accomodating, always supportive, and I think I have proven it aplenty in the past few years.

But this is something that I cannot condone nor agree with.

And it's not just a matter of ethic, in this sense: it's a matter of also hurting me, and literally put my whole creative process into shamble.

It's a matter of having respect of others.

Now, you might say: who cares if they hurt you? they are characters that do not exist, just move on and have thicker skin!

Well, as I said above, for when it concerns myself, my OCs are an extention of my own soul, a way for me to formulate and explain feelings that sometimes I have a hard time let out; a way for me to actually face, fragmentize and analyze my own trauma through them;

and most important of all, they are OFTEN a love letter to both the world I am exploring with them AND my own husband and child, such as in the case of Jacob and Dorothea,for whom, as I said often in the past 5 years, I have poured A LOT from myself and my husband's own story.

You could say that it probably my fault for having bared my feelings so much and poured so much of myself into a character;

And you might be correct, because I have learned my lesson, and ever since Dorothea and Jacob, no other character has been infused with as much of my own being as they were.

but that doesn't mean that it stings any less when I see it unravels in front of my eyes.

I am tired.

[nasirofmanderlys]

✯

nasir leaned back slightly, letting the firelight flicker across his face as he considered tion’s words. there was a warmth to his friend’s counsel, a rare combination of pragmatism and care that nasir had always valued. but even the kindest truths could sting, and as tion’s observations settled in the room, nasir felt the weight of them pressing against his already burdened chest. he knew his friend were trying his hardest to ensure the man did not end up sitting here and spiraling, and yet he felt the weight of his duties and his lineage weighing down upon his shoulders: if any ruling lord of the manderlys had sired bastards in the past, it had never come to fruition. and he had wanted more for himself than that; it should never have happened to begin with.

“cowardice,” nasir repeated, his voice soft but deliberate. he allowed the word to linger in the air between them, tasting its bitter edge. “perhaps you’re right. perhaps it is cowardice, at least in part. to carry the weight of something unspoken, to withhold it not out of malice but... hesitation. fear, even. it doesn’t feel like mercy though, not when the silence begins to choke you.” nasir manderly considered himself a religious man, in moderation; he prayed as part of a congregation on fridays and did the minimum that was expected of each child of the old way the moment the words were whispered into their ears. he never found it pressing, or tiresome; no, instead he felt like he himself had severed some rope that kept him grounded. kept him tied.

his dark eyes flickered towards the fire, watching the flames dance and writhe as though they might provide an answer. “and yet, what is the alternative? a truth revealed too soon? that can wither a man just as easily as any lie.” he leaned forward to let the drink slide down his throat, letting out a slight noise at the burn which was a laugh - he were not the most steady or hardy of drinkers. he smacked his chest, his laughter filling the momentarily empty room. "all this because the belmores told me they weren't waiting anymore. pathetic." it was rare nasir brought up his betrothal to mariela, that spurred him to end up walking into the tent of a battlefield whore and siring a bastard in her. never had he done such a thing, since and again.

his tone softened, a trace of weariness seeping into his words. “as for compatibility, you’re not wrong to question its endurance. i’ve seen marriages of perfect likeness crumble under the weight of ambition or the strain of time. but i’ve also seen bonds forged in difference, tempered by understanding. perhaps that’s what makes the difference—not finding someone who mirrors us but someone who sees the world as we do and still chooses to walk beside us.” he offered a faint, wry smile. “a fortress, a prison... perhaps they’re one and the same. but even a prison can feel like freedom, if the company is right."

and yet, nasir for a moment wondered of tion's ambition. the never-ending want for more, to prove himself - whether it could end up laying issues within his personal home. nasir had managed to uphold the respectability of house manderly, all without forgetting his place as a brother first, and a lord second. never would he let his home turn as cold as the winds it held out against. "you'll settle down with someone that makes you laugh from time to time, and it'll be alright. you'll make do."

tion watched nasir closely. there was a sort of turmoil in his friend that he knew not how to guide him through. he considered him a brother, someone he had always stood alongside, but now he wondered if his support had been the wrong thing, if he should have pushed back. not for zakariya's sake. he knew that he had given the boy a steady foundation for his future. it was not that which troubled him - it was whether or not this was what was best for nasir, or if it would have been kinder to let him endure the sting of shame long ago, rather than let its weight grow more burdensome with the years.

"it can be both," his words were measured, carefully studying nasir for a trace of a reaction. "a mercy for him. cowardice for you." he did not mean the words to be cruel, but simply to point out that even a choice made for the wrong reasons could be the right thing. the ends could justify the means. "but i'm not sure i believe that of you." perhaps he was looking at the northerner through a gilded lens, giving him more allowances and seeing more virtue than was truly there. "you've never shied away from walking a difficult path. cowardice alone wouldn't have been enough for you."

in the end, they were talking about hypotheticals. whether it was a mercy or not would be decided when they knew the man zakariya would grow to be. for the moment, they spoke of a far-off future, and in this matter, there were not yet any guarantees on whether time would heal or fester. "optimism," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "it's not that. it's visualisation. setting a target for yourself and refusing to consider an alternate destination, even if you get blown from your course." there were some men who made back up plans for their back up plans, who prepared for the worst to happen. whilst tion saw the value in caution and preparedness, he refused to consider the worst, instead choosing to expend his energy on the journey and obstacles before him, always with one eye fixed on that target he had set. "amir is only seeing what others would tell him to see. what could go wrong. it would do the both of you good to remember what could go right, and take the rest one step at a time."

it would be a lie to say he did not pay closer attention to the fate of the north than most, if only for the benefit of the manderlys, and the fact he cared for them. he was not blind to the fact lines were being drawn, and it troubled him. but nasir was clever. he would see them through.

he glanced towards the hearth, firelight casting light across his face. "compatibility," he said, as though it were a foreign concept. "it's a fair question." he supposed in a way, it did, but it was less about shared hobbies and matching temperaments. it was about finding a woman who understood tion's own vision, his innate ambition, and could respect it, could live with a man who would always wish for more without faltering. "does even compatibility endure?" he did not know the answer. "all the more reason to take my time with it, i suppose. i've built too much to risk it on the wrong woman. but even a prison can be a fortress. just depends what side of the bars you find yourself on."

[cloudbends]

Oh god. OH GOD.