#just none that i can articulate well :(

[dangoulains-devotion]

thinking just a bit too hard about how the added depth given to tifa and aerith's friendship only increases the weight threatening to crush tifa after the forgotten capital, she already had so much to carry on her weary shoulders, she's going to have to carry even more when mideel happens, and it doesn't even stop after meteorfall, ohg od oh i love her so much i

[girl-bateman]

ok guys guys. I just figured it out. macdennis is like.. they're both like.. mac is a storm and dennis is a storm. and they ruin one another. and they hurt one another. actually they're really good at the hurting part because that's what you do best when you love someone. and dennis is so tiny and small. a crying child with knee scrapes that never gets kissed. and mac is small too and both of them have spent their lives making up for it. and they can't help but resent the parts of themselves that they see in the other. broken mirrors staring back at each other. hating the reflection they fail to recognise as their own.

[genderjester]

Have so many thoughts abt geto but also i cannot articulate any of them

[gremmlepunk]

IT DIDNT MATTER! IT DIDNT MATTER WHAT WE DID! THEY WOULDVE BEEN TORTURED AND KILLED REGARDLESS AND IT WOULDNT HAVE MATTERED HOW WE VOTED! IF WE KEPT IT IN THE MIDDLE! THEY WOULDNT GAVE FACE REVEALED! HE COULDNT HAVE ESCAPED! AND WHEN THE NEXT STREAMS COME OUT ITS LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED! WE PLAYED THE GAME! WE SAW THEM THE BLACK BOX OVER THEIR HEAD WE KNEW HIS FATE ALL ALONG AND WE WATCHED! HE BOWED! HE BOWED TO US BEFORE HE LEFT AND THEY BEGGED THEIR MERCY FROM MILLIONS OF PEOPLE HE WILL NEVER MEET! AND IN THE END ITLL ALL HAPPEN AGAIN! BECAUSE THE VILLAIN ISNT AS SIMPLE AS HETCH OR SHOWFALL OR THE FOUNDER! WE ARE THE ANTAGONIST TO THE STORY WE WRITE AND AT THE SAME TIME WE INFLUENCE NOTHING! CAN YOU HEAR ME??? WE ARE THE VILLIANW!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[cy-cyborg]

So, there's a lot I want to say about the paralypics, but every time I try I just... can't articulate what I want to say without it turning into a monster of a post that puts my writing advice posts to shame lol. This includes in response to the anonymous asks I got on the topic btw. So I'm going to try and summarise my thoughts here.

As someone who was working towards the Rio paralympics - who was basically one of the people they were actively training to be the next paralympians and who got to go if their choice first athletes had to drop out, the Olympics and paralympics are a... touchy subject for me. I loved playing. I loved my sport. I loved the people I played with. I loved the people I played against. But the way the public and people in power treats disabled athletes sucks. It Really really sucks. and it hurts to talk about.

The vast, vast majority of us aren't paid. We are expected to train at the same intensity as the Olympians with none of the breaks and none of the support to do so, resulting in injuries that are disabling in and of themselves, while juggling normal jobs. many of the paralympians are also in school or at university as well. both schools and jobs see these elite athletes as dedicated hobbiests at best.

I had a friend who were fired from their job because they were denied time off to compete at the paralypics and well, if i had to choose between the paralympics or stay at a shit job paying minimum wage, I know which one I'd pick, and so she didnt have a job when she came back. I have friends who are still in the closet because their sponsors would drop them if they came out as gay, who ended years-long relationships to keep the funding that allowed them and their teams to compete - funding that just covered the costs of travel by the way. They never saw a cent of it themselves, but it was the difference between us having to pay $50 each for our plane tickets and accommodation and having to pay $2,000Aud + for every away game. I have friends who were supposed to go to Tokeyo but were kicked off the teams weeks before the games because of a rule change that decided they weren't disabled enough anymore, wasting years of work with absolutely no warning. They weren't even given the decency of an appology from the people who made the call. Several went through terrifying mental health spirals over it. It was their life's work, gone. I saw so many friends just give up because their disabilities were "too hard to classify" into the International Paralympic Commity's boxes and who were made to feel they weren't welcome by the system spouting off about its diversity and inclusion and empowerment of disabled people.

And then with all that, the best we can hope for is for the social media teams to turn us into a joke for ableds to laugh at or into inspiration porn to make them feel good about themselves - because at least theyre not us. Because obviously, there are no other options in how to show us/sarcasm.

My phone doesn't even have "paralympics" as a recognised word. I have a Samsung. The company that is currently at the paralympics using them as a marketing opertunity. We aren't even recognised as a word in the phones made by the company that is currently using the paralympics as a marketing opportunity. The phones they're giving the athletes won't even recognise the name of the event that they got it at. If I've spelt it wrong, it's because it autocorrects it every time I try to spell it right, and im dyslexic and can't see the difference until I stare at it for a minute or so.

I just... this isn't even scratching the surface of my thoughts. But I wanted to say at least some of it. It will be the last I'm going to talk about it, at least until the event is over.

[moonstruckme]

hi my love i’m obsessed with all your works and this is my first request!

poly! marauders and cuteness aggression. like maybe reader coming home a bit tipsy from girls night and just seeing her boys and losing it. grabbing remus’ face and just kissing all over his cheeks, gnawing on james’ biceps and playing with sirius’ hair or tracing his tattoos.

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You leave a trail of things down the hallway that you swear you’ll pick up in the morning. Your bag, both shoes, your jacket. There’s no time to put any of it in its proper place, not when you know your boyfriends are all cozy and waiting for you in your bed. Everything else is secondary. 

The moment you get your eyes on them, it’s already too much. Remus is reading while Sirius chats to a nearly-asleep James, and you don’t know whether to scream or hug them or burst into tears. One feels more socially acceptable than the rest. 

A grin spreads over Sirius’ face as you crawl clumsily up the bed, so you go to him first. 

“Hi, baby.” You smear a kiss over his lips, burrowing your hands in his lovely, silken hair. It smells like his conditioner, smokey and heady and just slightly sweet. You wish you could snort it up into your nose like a drug. 

“Hi, baby,” Sirius says back at you, amused. “Did you have a good night?” 

“No,” you lament, though you think you might have enjoyed it at the time. 

Impulsively, you move to Remus, clambering across James to get on your quietest boyfriend’s lap. He’s already set down his book, so there are no barriers to your whims as you take his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks up and kissing them all over. You think you can hear the other boys laughing somewhere beyond your lovesick haze. Remus’ skin grows warmer with each ardent press of your lips. 

“None of you were there,” you go on. It’s impossible to articulate the full extent of this injustice. “You were here, being so lovely and perfect and lovely without me.” 

“That’s lovely twice.” Remus seems to recover somewhat from your surprise attack. His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, a touch just for touch’s sake. “How much have you had, dove?” 

You make a petulant, whiny sound, burying your face in his neck. There will never be enough of them, your lovely boyfriends. Or maybe it’s that they’re enough, but you just can’t get enough. Regardless. You’re doomed to remain just on the brink of satisfaction. 

“Enough to know that I missed you a lot,” you say pitifully. 

“Awe, babydoll.” James’ laughter is at odds with his compassionate tone. “Come here, m’love.” 

This sounds like a grand idea to you. You wish they’d simply all squish together so you could lay your affections on them one by one, in rounds. 

James puckers his lips as you approach, readying for a kiss, and so is taken entirely aback when you forgo his face entirely. 

“Oh, well,” he says as you suck a hickey on his bicep. “I feel properly objectified.” 

You’re too pleased with yourself to be sorry. He flexes playfully, eliciting a string of giggles from you as you latch on tighter. 

“Do you think she’s been drugged?” you hear Remus ask. 

“Dunno.” James’ tone is fond. His big hand lands on the back of your head. 

“No, I sort of get it,” says Sirius. The mattress dips slightly, and then you feel him plant a wet kiss on your shoulder. “You just need to get it out of your system, yeah, sweetness?” 

You hum in affirmation. You wrap your arms around James’ middle, squeezing tight. 

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m gonna kill you.” 

Your boyfriend’s frame rumbles with laughter. “Okay, lovie,” he says indulgently. “You go right ahead.”

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I'm very attached to the idea of percy being like, Part Of The Sea as well as a demigod. like yes it's a godly domain that he has powers from but the sea as like, it's own separate primordial Thing that he's also connected to. his powers are so different from other demigod powers, even the other big 3 kids- like, hazel doesn't heal faster if she shovels dirt on an open wound. lightning and shadows can actively kill jason and nico if they aren't careful. none of the other kids can both telepathically AND verbally speak to animals (frank can't speak to animals even when he Is an animal, but he still gets the under water telepathy!). all the sea nymphs he comes across act like he's their baby just as much as he is poseidon's. he gets sick and irritable if he's too far away from the water for too long, and even when he's inland if poseidon is in a mood and causing storms because of it, percy's mood is also affected? whenever he's in the water, it seems like everyone in the ecosystem immediately knows it. sea creatures literally cry out to him for help and he'll sneak out in the middle of the night to go free them 🥺 like sorry I will never get over that it's so sweet 😭. I'm too tired to really articulate this right but I just love the idea that he's not so much tied to the water as he is part of it, like there's just this sort of otherness to the ocean and it's various deities and creatures that is different than all the other demigods and their parent's domains. he IS a demigod but he's also literally a sea creature in his own right and there's a whole community to it. like there's different life forms in the ocean but at the same time everything in it is One in a way. the way he's instantly soothed and calmed by the water, the way the sea always greets him with love, like whenever he's not in the water everyone feels the hole where he should be. like it's more than just being the sea god's kid- he's part of the ocean and an extension of the ocean and Is the ocean all at once. there's like a spiritual hivemind going on there. he feels who goes in and out and they weep whenever he goes out. what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea. am I making any sense here.

[shibaraki]

HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship, physical affection, touch starved shouto, loneliness, hugs + hand holding, fluff, only a little angst, obliviousness, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 1.4K

series masterlist: 1/5

It is 4:03pm on a Thursday afternoon. The skies are grey, and the rain is so light it’s practically a wet fog. You have not touched Shouto in any meaningful way since Monday.

Before this week Shouto was certain that he must have been absorbed into a long-standing state of neutrality and apathy as a child. He didn’t long for anything, atleast, not in the way his friends claimed to. Whiny professions of loneliness, lamenting over romantic relationships and sex or lack thereof, dreamily recounting their passionate escapades. It didn’t appeal much to him.

Shouto had what he needed to survive—to live his day to day and climb the ranks without disruption, and it seemed that affection was not one of those things. The Todoroki household had never been particularly affectionate anyway. After his mother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital touch became less associated with comfort and happiness, and more of a thing to avoid altogether.

Shouto never actually voiced an aversion to touch. He held hands with crying children as he walked them back to their parents. He rubbed the backs of countless scared victims, he let them wrap around his arm and squeeze until his fingers grew numb. He offered his left side to elderly folk in the colder weather as they waited to be loaded into an ambulance.

But these small instances were always initiated by him, and his well-meaning friends decided to leave the ball in his court sometime during highschool. It never really left.

Until—

“Can I hug you?” you blurted. Your expression quickly twisted into a sheepish grimace. “You look like you could do with one, is all”.

At that moment Shouto had been sitting in the infirmary half covered in soot and picking out the bits of rubble that managed to get inside his suit’s ventilator. He stared up at you and wondered what that would even look like on himself, lifting a hand to feel his face and finding it relatively normal.

The sound of his heart flooded his ears and he frowned at the reaction. You weren’t a new friend by any means, but Shouto scarcely made new friends so you are newer than the others. You’ve never tried to be physically affectionate but he’s caught you gazing at him fondly sometimes, when you think he’s none the wiser, and he likes it.

Shouto nodded. Why, he doesn’t know. To quell your anxiety and get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he reasoned. Then your lips pulled into a soft, pleased smile, and he felt it like the sun on his face.

You stepped forward as though approaching some skittish animal. Shouto made no move to stand. He had only watched with trepidation as your hands lifted. A breath caught in his throat as they extended to rest on his sloped shoulders. “I’ll get you dirty,” he murmured dumbly in afterthought.

“That’s okay,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your arms slipped around his back gently, and soon tightened to a secure hold when no objection came—there could be none, because the instant Shouto’s cheek pressed against your soft stomach, a rush of adrenaline speared through him and swept away all conscious thought.

To Shouto touch was like skipping a rock through the cavity in his chest; doing it only ever made its presence more obvious. But you cradled him there for what seemed like hours and he felt warm in ways he couldn’t articulate. Your fingers danced aimless patterns along the top of his spine, sometimes pausing to curl the wispy hair at his nape around them, and he sank.

True to his word, Shouto had dirtied your clothes. He apologised when you pulled away because it was all he could do not to whimper. You didn’t spare your shirt a glance—you just smiled at him again, and said you hoped it helped.

Helped? Helped?

The weight of your embrace had lingered for hours, cloven to the forefront of his mind, clinging to the memory before it became too obscure. Only now the memory hurt him to think about, and the pervasive ache for more intensified as the days passed.

Just this morning he’d wrapped his bedsheets tight and drew them around his shoulders to simulate that same feeling. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picturing you there. Your sweet, purposeful touches. Your comforting scent. Your chest rising and falling. Your voice rumbling against his cheek. Heat filled his body, like you’d reached inside and turned the spigot of his heart.

It was mortifying. And exhilarating.

Shouto stuck his hand out from the shelter of the awning and let the rain lick at his fingers. Overturning his wrist, catching them on the shallow of his palm, he contemplates how he can get you to touch him again.

Last time you said he simply looked like he needed it. Too frustrating and vague, not to mention Shouto has been needing it all week. You could have meant his grimy post-battle appearance, but he didn’t really think this should warrant being thrown from another high rise building. Maybe he has to earn it this time.

You’re standing beside him, too preoccupied by the emails on your phone to notice his dilemma. Things have been fine. No awkwardness on your part, which he should probably be pleased about, but his mind keeps veering beyond rational conjecture. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It all felt too one sided.

Shouto gives you a sidelong glance. You might be the only person he knows that can look alluring in the dreary afternoon light. With a sigh he lets his hand drop to his hip and wipes it on his dry suit.

Your thumbs move fast across the screen. “Sorry, Shouto. I promise I’m not ignoring you—just need to reply to this intern,” you tell him. “God, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the email software your agency uses? Because I do”.

He hums, “You have”.

Whatever you hear in his voice has you looking up. There’s a crease etched in your brow, expression open and apologetic. Your gaze flickers to the hand held to his front, where he’s working out the static in his knuckles.

“Are you cold?” you ask, pocketing your phone. It’s a silly question. He is a walking furnace. But Shouto is statuesque as you reach to cup his distinctly bigger hand with your own. Heat prickles under his skin. The staccato of his heart kicks up. You lean down to exhale a warm breath over his fingers, and stroke your thumb along the dips and peaks of his knuckles.

Shouto sends a mental apology to Kaminari for the halfhearted response he gave after a long, lovestruck monologue about his girlfriend’s hands. He thinks he gets it, now.

Your lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Better?” you scan his face and the smile falters. “Shit. Sorry, Shouto. I should’ve asked,” then you’re retreating again and—

He reflexively grabs your wrist. It’s a loose grip, enough for you to free yourself from. You pause. “No,” a puff of steam billows out from his mouth and he has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. “…It’s fine. You don’t have to stop”.

Your concern dwindles into amusement as he wafts it away. “Alright,” you say placatingly. The tension alleviates, and when your fingers slip against his you immediately twine them together, taking the ache in his chest with it. “Is this ‘fine’ too?”

Shouto nods, not yet trusting his voice or his quirk.

“I wasn’t sure if I crossed any lines on Monday,” your eyes dipped to stare at the pavement as you continued. “I know you aren’t touchy feely like the others. They were… surprised when I mentioned the hug”.

“I didn’t think I was,” he swallows, flexing his fingers to squeeze your hand. “I liked it”.

You squeeze back, “You did?”

Shouto squeezes harder, and can’t stop the smile coming unbidden to his lips. “I did,” he says.

You meet his gaze. He’s pinned by that fond look you always try to hide from him. “Do you want another one, then?”

“But I didn’t do anything”.

A litany of emotion passes over your face at his response. There’s determination in the purse of your lips as you step into his space, entangled hands caught between your bodies. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your nose into the hollow where his jaw met his neck.

There’s a clumsiness to his movements as he follows your lead and slips his arm around your back. Head suddenly too heavy for his neck, he rests his cheek on your crown, melting into the embrace.

“You don’t need to earn my affection, Shouto. Not now and not ever”.

“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “I can just ask?”

“You can,” you laugh softly.

Why hadn’t he thought to just—ask. That is far more reasonable than being flung from another burning high rise.

“What?”

Ah. He pulls you further into his chest until you’re pressed together like the pages of a book. “Nothing”.

[vettelsvee]

PREGNANCY JOURNEY | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 1 here

summary: a little bit of your pregnancy journey with seb

word count: 2809

warnings: none of it! just seb and reader being cute (at least that's what i think sjsj). settled on 2012 season

a/n: I love dad!seb bye, pls send me requests bc he's literally the seb i love to write the most about

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

Yours and Seb's families

It had only been two weeks since Sebastian and you had discovered you were going to be parents in that room in Hungary, and you wanted to start sharing the news with your family.

After much deliberation on how you could do it in such a special way, you decided to organize an intimate dinner at the house they shared in Switzerland.

As you enjoyed the delicious dishes you prepared yourself with the useless help of your boyfriend, nerves filled you both as you prepared to share the news at the end of the dinner. So, when desserts arrived at the table and you enjoyed them while chatting animatedly about trivial matters, Vettel gently took your hand under the table. With a glance, you knew it was time to tell your parents what you had been hiding.

You took your glass of wine, from which you hadn't been drinking, and stood up, causing the attentive gazes of the three present to focus on what you were about to say:

"Mom, Dad. Heike, Norbert," you began. "Today you're not here just because I'm showing off my ridiculous cooking skills, but for a more special reason."

Confusion arose among the older couples, who exchanged confused looks with each other.

You began to get emotional, finding it impossible to articulate your words. Therefore, Seb took over for you, continuing with the improvised speech:

"I know it might not be the right time," the younger German expressed, taking your hand, "but you're going to be grandparents."

"Wait… What do you mean, Sebastian?" your mum asked curiously, doubting what her son-in-law just told them.

"That's right, son," Norbert agreed with your mum. "What are you trying to tell us?"

"We're going to be parents," you whispered, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm pregnant."

As soon as your mum heard from your own mouth that you were expecting a child, she rushed to hug you tightly, immediately joined by Vettel's mother, causing all three women to have teary eyes. Norbert immediately ran to hug his son, shouting in excitement as he did so, and your dad, on the other hand, was in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Wait a moment, Y/N," Michael commented, rising and positioning himself next to his son-in-law. "Are you saying that you've been accompanying Seb all season while pregnant, and on top of that, you've kept it from me?"

You started laughing at your dad’s comment. Sebastian, on the other hand, began to feel fear for the first time in his life towards the man who initially became his idol and, over time, not only his friend and mentor, but also his father-in-law.

"Dad, no!" you denied. "I haven't been pregnant all this time. I'm currently about three weeks along, and we found out as soon as we arrived in Hungary because I was nauseous and dizzy the whole trip," you explained.

"I'm sorry if this caught you off guard," your boyfriend apologized, especially to Michael. "It’s not like we haven't been hiding the pregnancy," the young man declared, "but we needed time to process it and make sure it wasn't a false alarm."

Schumacher sighed in relief and wrapped his arm around his wife. Heike hugged her husband, who still couldn't believe he was going to be a grandfather for the first time.

"Yeah, okay…" your dad finally replied. "I'm glad to know that my eldest daughter hasn't been taking unnecessary risks and that, furthermore, you've been celebrating Seb's victories properly."

The mention of this made Sebastian wish he could disappear at that moment just like you.

"Michael, don't say that to them!" your mum exclaimed, hitting her husband's arm. "I still can't believe we're going to be grandparents. It's wonderful! Congratulations, guys!"

Once you exchanged hugs and congratulations, the quartet returned to the table to finish enjoying dinner. The truth was that your parents were concerned about your condition, but for different reasons: on one hand, Michael knew how stressful Formula 1 could be day in and day out, and he didn't want his eldest daughter to suffer accompanying Sebastian, so he would have to have a serious talk with you. Corinna, on the other hand, knew they still had to break the news to Gina and Mick, who would be aunt and uncle in about nine months. As for the Vettels, there was nothing to comment on or exceed: in a few months, the family would grow even more, and the excitement of having the little one in their arms was overwhelming them at that moment.

The former decided to stay silent for the moment, pondering when he could have a chance to talk to you alone. Corinna, however, decided to ask you about what how would you break the news to your siblings:

"Y/N, dear," she immediately captured your attention despite being deeply engrossed in a conversation with your father about Seb's performance that season. "Don’t you want to share the news with your siblings? I think they would like to know that you're pregnant, they would be quite happy..."

"Yes, of course..."

"For now, we would like to enjoy this stage of the pregnancy privately," Vettel interrupted you, "although that doesn't mean we won't tell them. For heaven's sake, Corinna, my siblings don't know anything yet either!"

The woman glanced at her husband, who shot her a look to calm down. Indeed, both families continued to celebrate the new life Seb and you had created and, in due time, would reveal to the rest of their loved ones and possibly the whole world.

Mick and Gina

You couldn't keep the secret any longer. It had only been a couple of days since your parents and in-laws found out you were going to be parents. The same went for Seb's siblings, whom you finally called on the phone because they couldn't come to Switzerland at the moment.

Now it was time for Gina and Mick to find out they were going to be aunt and uncle at fifteen and thirteen years old.

Summer vacation was coming to an end for both teenagers and the eldest Schumacher. The kids had to go back to school, while you would be traveling the world again with you father and you boyfriend in early September.

For that reason, and because you were really excited to see her siblings' reaction, you decided to tell them that afternoon they would go to the mall.

"Guys," you said as you ate your bowl of cereal, "we're going to the mall today. I want us to spend some time together and, well..." you dropped a hint, trying to be mysterious. "I have some news to share, actually."

Gina's eyes widened in surprise. Mick kept his gaze fixed on his buttered toast with jam, pretending not to hear although he was actually really excited.

"Of course, Y/N!" Gina exclaimed excitedly. "I can't wait to buy some new clothes, especially to hear what you have to tell us."

"Exactly that," replied the youngest brother, mouth full. "You're acting very suspiciously, as if you've killed someone. Have you killed someone?"

Gina flicked Mick on the head, who immediately protested, sparking an argument. You simply cleared away your breakfast dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, leaving the kitchen seconds later, not believing that those arguing over a trivial matter would later discover they were going to be uncles.

Once at the mall, the three of you strolled through the aisles, looking for stores of interest and, especially, trying to blend in with the crowd, surprisingly succeeding.

The truth was that days earlier, you and Sebastian had agreed that to break the news to the kids, they would invite them to dinner at their favorite restaurant. However, to avoid raising suspicion, you would say that Seb couldn't make it because he had scheduled a meeting with Red Bull to discuss a few strategy matters. This way, you thought, the kids would be even more surprised.

As the afternoon wore on, your nerves, along with bags of clothes for the kids, and a few indulgences for themselves, grew.

"Y/N, is Seb coming with us?" Mick asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Oh, no, I forgot to tell you! Seb mentioned he had a Skype call or something with Horner and Red Bull about strategy, so he can't make it."

You hated lying to your siblings, especially about Vettel-related matters, particularly to the youngest. They had a very good relationship and sometimes seemed more like siblings than the three Schumacher kids together.

"I know you were excited to see him," you continued explaining, "but I'm sure in a couple of days, or even tomorrow, I can tell him to come over."

"Exactly, Mick," Gina chimed in, "let's enjoy an afternoon with siblings, there will be plenty of time for you to see your brother-in-law!"

After a while of strolling, you finally decided to take your siblings to the restaurant they held in such high regard. As soon as you entered, you spotted the Red Bull driver sitting at a table checking emails on his phone.

Sebastian looked up and found a preteen Mick Schumacher running towards him, receiving a hug the moment he reached him.

"What are you doing here, Seb?!" Mick exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. "We thought you had a meeting with your team!"

Sebastian tousled the boy's hair and stood up to greet both Gina and you, who were giving him knowing glances at what was about to unfold.

"I guess these past few months I've become quite the expert in lies," you said. "And you're not here for just any reason."

Mick and Gina exchanged glances, not fully believing what their older sister was telling them.

"Indeed," Vettel continued, "before we order anything, we'd like to tell you that, around March next year, we'll be adding one more member to the family."

"You're going to be aunt and uncle, guys."

Both of them stood there speechless, trying to process what they had just heard.

"Is this for real, sister?!" Mick whispered cautiously, aware that you were public figures and attention would be on them at that moment. "We're going to have a nephew, Gina!" he turned to his younger sister, who was still in disbelief.

"This is incredible, guys!" Gina exclaimed. "I can't wait for March next year now... And I thought the best thing that could happen to me was going to see One Direction that month!"

You and Sebastian exchanged a knowing glance, realizing that the joy the younger ones were feeling at that moment was even greater than they had initially expected.

"We're so happy that you're part of this beautiful journey ahead," Seb explained, giving them both a hug. "I'm sure, and I know your sister and your parents are too, that you're going to be amazing aunt and uncle. The baby is so lucky to have a family like yours."

You wiped away tears. You hated getting emotional over the slightest thing, but at the same time, you were grateful to be surrounded by so much positivity and support from the early stages of her pregnancy.

"That's for sure, Seb," Mick replied jokingly. "But you have to understand that I'm going to be the funny uncle, and most importantly, his favorite."

The dinner continued with laughter, anecdotes from the teenagers that Seb and you had missed because of the Grand Prix races and, especially, future plans they would make when little Vettel-Schumacher decided to make his way into the world.

Mark Webber

After a month-long break, 2012 Formula 1 season was finally back in Belgium.

You, despite being about three, almost four, months pregnant, decided to continue accompanying you boyfriend for the remaining nine races.

Friday, before free practice sessions began, you were in Seb’s room at the Red Bull Racing hospitality. The German held an instant camera in his hands intending to take a few pictures of you, something that had become routine to document your pregnancy. You, reclined on the sofa in the space, simply caressed your increasingly prominent belly.

The flash of the camera snapped you out of your trance, immediately feeling embarrassed.

"Seb, I've told you a thousand times I don't like you taking pictures of me when I'm not ready," you commented, feeling somewhat uneasy.

Sebastian couldn't care less.

"You're perfect, Y/N Schumacher," Sebastian replied, taking another snapshot of you. "Come on, stand up for a moment and pose with our son for your future husband. You don't have to worry about looking good or not, you're doing enough work creating a life in your belly."

You agreed to your boyfriend's proposal, excited enough to hug your belly and shed a few tears.

Hormones were acting like crazy on you, and Sebastian Vettel might too if he kept being so good to you.

The blonde raised his camera again and once more took a picture of the scene in front of him, highlighting your smile above all.

As the photo was revealed and Sebastian, sitting on the floor, was admiring it, the door to the room opened, revealing a somewhat angry and surprised Mark Webber.

"Well, well…" the man exclaimed. "What do we have here?"

Sebastian and you exchanged looks, a mix of excitement and nervousness. No one beyond your families knew you were expecting a baby, and with the way the Australian was acting, you knew that would soon change.

"What you have here is the future best mother in the world, Webber," Sebastian explained, gesturing from top to bottom at you and then touching your belly once he stood up.

"That's incredible, guys! I'm really happy for you!" Mark approached you and hugged you, genuinely pleased with the news you had just revealed and especially by the trust you had in him to do so.

"Well, it seems Horner will be pleased when you tell him the news," Seb's teammate continued, "because I'm sure he'll want to sign the little one as soon as he's old enough."

"Of course, Mark," Sebastian replied. "Not every day you create offspring with both Schumacher and Vettel blood."

"The royalty of Formula 1, if I may say," Michael Schumacher interjected, entering the Red Bull garage despite not being part of the team. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see how my daughter and my grandchild are doing."

You asnwered with a small ironic laugh at her father's remark, who was mistaken at that moment to think that Charlotte Vettel-Schumacher would be a boy.

Kimi Räikkönen

The penultimate race of the 2012 season finally arrived, and you and Sebastian had finally revealed to the world that you were going to be parents. Although there were mixed reactions and comments, the majority of people who discovered that the eldest daughter of Michael Schumacher and the two-time world champion were going to have a child were quite pleased.

Both of you were in the paddock, arriving a bit later than usual. 

"Vettel, hey," Kimi called out as soon as he saw you two. "I heard rumors that you have a new passenger in your very own car. Is that true?"

You burst into laughter at Räikkönen's irony, who maintained a cool demeanor.

"Yes, Kimi, it's true," Seb replied, still chuckling. "The baby is due in March, so just a few months to go."

You nodded in agreement with your boyfriend's statement.

"So, there will be a new fan running around the paddock soon..." Räikkönen commented. "Make sure he doesn't miss the races, Y/N."

"Of course, no need to worry about it..."

"But, hey," Kimi interrupted you, "don't let him stay up all night watching replays of my victories, okay? He's needs some rest too."

Sebastian was bewildered. However, you were laughing even harder at Kimi's antics.

"Don't worry, mate," Vettel replied, "I assure you I'll train her in such a way that she'll be taking you on track before she's even ten."

"Yeah, right, whatever you say" the Finn said ironically. "Just make sure that when she decides to enter the world, you invite me to her big welcome party."

You nodded, playing along with the Lotus driver.

"It's surreal that you've won another victory, Vettel," Kimi continued. "And remember: invite me to the party. I want to welcome the little one with alcohol, lots of alcohol."

Kimi lowered his head in farewell and continued on his way to his garage, letting you both get on with your day.

You and Sebastian knew Kimi well enough to understand that most of his comments were sarcastic, but within the sarcasm, there was genuine happiness for them.

Who would have thought that years later, Charlotte Vettel-Schumacher would become the apple of her godfather, Kimi Räikkönen's, eye, every time she visited the paddock with her mother.

[ddejavvu]

you’re probably sick of animagus reader fics but if you’re up for it i was wondering whether you were in the mood for some remus x fem reader?

maybe r is a dormouse or smth and just practically stays tucked inside rem’s sweaters or the inside pockets of his robes/blazer. r possibly falls out his sweater is a really crowded corridor (can’t change back) and rem panics cause he doesn’t fancy his girl being flattened <3

You make a mental note, while fleeing the shadows of impending doom that cascade onto the chilled stone floor around you, that you need to make sure Remus never buys another pair of pants with such shallow pockets. You typically cling to the inside of his sweater, but he's bundled up a little too warm for your taste today, and you'd tucked yourself into the linty confines of his corduroys instead.

It had all been going well, until someone had bumped rather aggressively into his thigh, the one that you were pressed worriedly against, and you'd darted to your left to escape the pain. Unfortunately, left was the direction of the pocket's opening, and the fall to the stone tile beneath you had been a monumental one for your small size.

Thankfully, you hadn't splattered against the tile, but you're running for your life now, and you seem to be swimming upstream no matter which direction you turn. There's always feet working against you, feet close to trampling your tail, feet threatening to squash your lungs, and you yearn for the solace of Remus's plush pocket once more.

Remus only gets a few steps away from the spot where you'd tumbled unceremoniously to the ground before he reaches his hand into his pocket, intent on scooping you out and discreetly moving you to his sweater. But there's nothing in his pockets save for a button that had fallen off of the inside of his book bag, and panic seizes his chest in its heavy, unforgiving claws.

"Uh-" He flounders, steps hesitantly stuttering over the floor as the ebb and flow of students around him becomes suffocating. Now, all of a sudden, he's not a part of the crowd, he's what they're fighting against, and he pats down his other pockets in case you'd just moved addresses.

You haven't.

Dropping to his knees is rather difficult amidst a stampede, and it's not only his weary joints that ache, but his hands as disgruntled students hoof over them. He ignores the way his pinky smarts, twinging pink with a pained flush beneath the toe of a third-year, and ducks his head to the ground to see if he can spot you scampering amongst the students.

There's movement all around him, but none if it is your size. Black and red and green and blue and yellow blur through his vision as students of all houses flood the halls, and each second that he doesn't find you alive and well worries at his heart with panic's mangled claws. He thinks he sees you to his left, but- oh, that's a cat, and that's worse, so he ducks even further to the ground, and redoubles his effots.

Thankfully, you've noticed the deviated path the students are now taking, annoyed grumbles about the idiot stooped in the hallway. That's your idiot, you think, and you scamper as fast as your tiny legs allow to meet Remus where he knees.

He sees you coming, his pretty eyes flood with a relief so palpable you can feel it in your own chest, and just before you can scurry into his outstretched hand, you feel something heavy land on your tail and trap you in your place. You feel a puff of breath against your back, and the snare of cat's claws against the meat of your tail, but before the beast can lean down and devour you, Remus lunges for your body, cupping his hand over your trembling form and swatting the animal away.

"Absolutely not, thank you." Remus snaps at the cat, and a second-year gives him a rather apprehensive stare as she hurries around him, "Darling, are you okay?"

You're not very articulate in mouse form, but you manage a thankful squeak, one that Remus smiles fondly at while straightening up.

The cat doesn't look very happy with him, but Remus isn't afraid of a few more scratches on his arm, and you nestle securely into his palm when he straightens, limbs limp with confident exhaustion, that he'd let the cat claw open each one of his scars ten times before he ever let it get a shot at you.

[piastrisun]

halfway there.

pairings: charles leclerc + fem reader.

summary: a night out in france turns into a moment of connection as charles helps you face a language barrier, only for you to surprise him with more than just words.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1.4k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: few days later but he’s a little blurb for charles’ international day!! one that has actually nothing to do with birthdays but alright, enjoy. :)

you find yourself seated with charles, on one of your usual and favourite kind of dates, dimly lit restaurant in the heart of lyon. the walls are adorned with intricate artwork, and the faint glow of candlelight dances across the polished tables, casting delicate shadows. the soft hum of french conversations fills the room, blending with the clinking of glasses and the faint notes of a jazz melody playing in the background. the air is rich with the scent of truffle, roasted garlic, and a medley of herbs, making the space feel both luxurious and intimate.

you stare at the menu, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the array of unfamiliar words and the elegant but indecipherable descriptions. each dish sounds more complex than the last, and the language barrier makes it almost impossible for you to figure out what you might enjoy. you feel a small wave of anxiety bubbling up—your usual indecisiveness amplified by not even being able to fully grasp your options.

charles glances at you, noticing your hesitant expression. “what do you think?” he asks, his voice warm, eyes full of quiet understanding.

you sigh, glancing down at the menu. “i don’t even know what half of this says,” you admit, laughing softly at yourself. “but i do know what i feel like eating.”

you had already mentioned what you were in the mood for, listing off ideas you had in mind but couldn’t quite articulate into a dish. as always, he listens attentively, picking up on the subtle cues and the bits of your personality that often lead you to second-guess yourself.

charles, ever composed, scans the menu with the ease of someone completely at home. he reads off the french dishes effortlessly, his voice low and melodic, a natural rhythm that feels both soothing and slightly intimidating. you watch him, trying to catch any familiar words, but most of it sounds like a beautiful, indecipherable blur. you nod along as if you understand, trusting him completely to make the right choices for you both.

“i think you’d like this one,” he says, pointing to a dish on the menu with a reassuring smile. he describes it in detail, translating the words into something familiar, tweaking it just the way you like—something flavorful, without any heavy meats.

you smile, feeling that familiar warmth spread in your chest, thankful for the way he always seems to get it right, how he helps you navigate these moments when your indecision takes over. “you always know exactly what i want,” you say softly, grateful for his patience, for the way he understands you so well.

when the waiter arrives, charles orders for the two of you, his tone polite. you admire the confidence in his voice, the way he effortlessly navigates into more than one language. the waiter nods, scribbling down the orders, and as charles thanks him, you feel a small flutter of nerves. something tugs at you, an impulse to step out of your comfort zone. you gently tap the waiter's arm, catching both his and charles's attention.

but something tugs at you—a small desire to step out of your comfort zone. as the waiter starts to leave, you gently tap his arm. “excusez-moi,” you say, your voice measured and deliberate. you can feel charles’s gaze shift to you, a mix of curiosity and surprise flickering in his eyes. “sans poulet, s'il vous plaît. je ne mange pas de poulet.” your accent is not that far from perfect, and the words feel slightly foreign on your tongue, but you get through it with a kind of quiet determination. the waiter nods politely, offering you a smile before he walks away.

charles stares at you, his surprise palpable. he blinks once, twice, trying to process what just happened. “you speak french?” he asks, his tone light but genuinely intrigued. he leans in slightly, as if seeing you in a new light.

you shrug, feeling a slight twinge of embarrassment mixed with a bit of pride. “i don’t,” you say, your voice firm but playful as you fidget with your napkin, folding and unfolding it just to have something to do with your hands.

he laughs softly, the sound warm and disbelieving. “you just did,” he points out, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “and it was quite good.”

your eyes meet his, and there’s a spark of something unspoken—pride, nerves, a hint of defiance. “barely,” you say, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at him, trying to convey that you’re not as skilled as he seems to think. “i know my basics.”

charles tilts his head, studying you, his smile growing. “greeting and introducing yourself are the basics,” he teases, a playful lilt in his voice. “not saying you don’t eat chicken.”

your expression shifts into one of gentle stubbornness. you keep your face composed, meeting his gaze with a flat but not unfriendly look. “it is to me,” you reply teasingly, your face serious but not harsh.

he bursts into laughter, the sound warm and infectious, that makes heads turn briefly in your direction. you watch him, your own laughter bubbling up despite your earlier seriousness. you can’t help it—the warmth of his reaction, the way he looks at you like you’ve just revealed a secret talent, makes you feel seen in a way that’s both exhilarating and a little unnerving. your laugh is softer, almost shy, but it spills out as if it’s been waiting for permission.

you reach for your glass of water, taking a sip to steady yourself, but the smile lingering on your lips betrays your feelings. there’s a flutter in your chest, and the realization that this moment, this small, silly exchange, means more than it seems. it’s the little glimpses of who you are together—a shared laughter, a playful challenge, a quiet understanding.

charles watches you, his expression softening. “i like this,” he says quietly, his voice low and sincere. “i like discovering these little things about you.”

you tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “like what?” he smiles, taking a moment as if searching for the right words.

“like how you’re so sure you don’t know something, but then you go and prove yourself wrong,” he explains, his eyes never leaving yours. “it’s charming. you’re charming.”

your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “i just… i don’t want you to have to do everything all the time when we’re here or in your home,” you admit. “it doesn’t feel fair.”

charles reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a gentle. “you don’t have to worry about that,” he says, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “i like helping you. i like being there for you.”

you blush under his gaze, your heart fluttering. “i know,” you say, your voice quieter now. “but it’s nice to feel like i’m contributing, even if it’s just in small ways.”

his fingers graze yours with a delicate yet reassuring touch as his eyes hold yours, warm and sincere. “you do,” he says, his smile spreads slowly, genuine, as if his words aren’t enough to express how much you mean to him. “more than you know.”

you squeeze his hand lightly, your gaze dropping to where your fingers intertwine before meeting his eyes again, determination flickering in your voice. “still. i want to meet you halfway, so you can really express yourself when we’re together.”

his gaze softens further, an almost vulnerable look crossing his face as he processes what you’ve just said. the tenderness in his expression deepens, and he leans in just a fraction, slightly blushing, as if closing the emotional distance between you. “you’d do that?”

“of course,” you say, your voice gentle as your smile softens. “i want you to feel at home, too, like you do for me. it’s important that you can be yourself, speak how you’re most comfortable.”

his features soften as if he's seeing you anew, and a quiet intensity builds in the space between you. “so…” there’s a tenderness in his expression. “if i say ‘je t’aime,’ would you know what i mean?”

you grin, a playful spark lighting your eyes as you roll them teasingly. “charlie, that’s actually basic french,” you respond with a lighthearted chuckle.

for a moment, charkes freezes, his confident exterior cracking as he mocks himself with an exaggerated, uncomfortable face, realising he’s been caught off guard by his own words. it’s endearing, the way he momentarily loses his composure.

your soft laughter fills the space, warm and full of affection, and you lean in closer, your voice dropping to a tender whisper. “i love you too, dumbass.”

his expression melts into a smile, one that’s equal parts relieved and overjoyed, and he squeezes your hand tighter, pulling you just a little closer across the table. “you really are something, you know that?”

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[ktjislove1119]

what they'd post on your birthday

-> p1harmony x seventh member! male reader, this was giving more platonic love but i think its still sweeeeeetttt

warnings : none , i think talk of getting old, i guess

rating : fluff 🙏

yoon keeho

- he loves including aesthetic pictures of you (and him) in his dump.

- he likes keeping the messages short and sweet on the internet, but trust the first thing you see and hear when that clock strikes 12 on your birthday is either: a lengthy heartwarming text from him or him just going to your room and smothering you in love.

- he probably will be the first member to greet you because he takes wishing happy birthday to people seriously (secretly holds grudges on everyone that doesnt wish him happy birthday in the first minute of his own) (he does not play when it comes to birthdays). but its because he thinks that theyre such important and sentimental dates.

- always makes it a point in each post and each year on your birthday to say that he can’t wait to grow old with you because he thinks that is one of the most raw forms of love and admiration you can have for someone. envisions a future with you constantly and just gets even more mushy and sensitive about it when your birthday comes around because it’s like, actually real and happening. you two are really getting older together and he just lowkey tears up at the thought of it.

- tries using his persuasive leader skills to get the company to give them all a singular day off to properly celebrate and will try his hardest to fight for this one day off, entirely for you.

- probably cries in his room about it too LMAO i just see him as someone overly sensitive and invested in the idea of growing old with his loved ones, which obviously would include you. thinks about how you two even first met and how you’re both so different now and it lowkey feels like a punch to his gut because the time really is flying so fast.

- keeps the fesitivities of the day wholly centered around you; whatever it is you want to do, he wants to do too! it’s your birthday, they’re all just coming along for the ride since it’s your special day.

choi taeyang

- makes it a point in his message every year to emphasize the fact on staying happy and prioritizing your happiness above else.

- never wants you to forget that you are one of his strongest pillars of support and motivation to keep him going and he very literally needs you to be healthy, happy, and content in order to have peace of mind. he places personal happiness of an individual above everything and really hopes you share that same sentiment so that you can put your own happiness above everything else, too.

- pics he drops of you are very bf-coded lmao don’t ask him if it was purposeful because it wasn’t, he just likes taking off-guard photos of you. he thinks that that is when you’re the most handsome to him, hence why he posts them because he wants others and p1ece to be able to appreciate those photos too.

- makes a lot of jokes on your birthday about how you’re getting old, but are still younger than him therefore a baby.

- i can just imagine him affectionately rubbing his hand on your head or up and down your neck and softly saying that you’re still so young. he feels like reminding you of that fact is important on your birthday, as well as just making you remember that just because you’re a year older doesn’t mean you need to feel rushed into doing something, such as obtaining your goals or dreams. he knows how hard you are on yourself and wants you to know that just because you’re older now doesn’t mean there’s now a timer on how “far” your dreams are now. pulls the “oldest is the wisest” card definitely when he gives you that talk because he’s speaking so articulately on it and solemnly trying to remind you of that fact.

- i feel like he’d be one to reminisce a lot on when you two were younger together, maybe when you were trainees together or just little things you experienced together that you can’t now due to whatever circumstances. speaks fondly of those times, but his heart does ache to see that time is passing by and how different things are now.

- in general, he tries not to be too sappy, but rather keep the mood uplifted and high. he wants you to keep a positive outlook on your life and will remind you that he’s always there for you, to talk or whatever it is you need him for.

choi jiung

- wishes you a happy birthday with the softest smile on his face and maybe even leaning in for a hug, and if he’s really feeling soft about it being your birthday he’ll even kiss the top of your head. it depends on the year, honestly, he’s only done it a total of five times for all the years he’s known you.

- kind of likes to be in control of what goes on on your birthday BUT NOT IN THAT WAY. he obviously doesn’t make the plans for you, chooses things for you — not like that. he just wants to make sure everything is perfect for YOUR day. so he likes to be in charge of cleaning up the place for the celebration, decorating the place, even little things like being the one to place the candles on your cake because he needs them to be perfect and he knows he can do that.

- genuinely will lowkey get pissed or annoyed if any of the members do anything to slightly ruin the plans that were made, shoots them a warning look if even the slightest thing is out of line. he wants you to have this special moment and memory in your mind of how everything was on your special day.

- likes to linger close to you, surveying all the surroundings to make sure it’s too your liking and everything is comfortable.

- in his birthday post to you, he likes mentioning some term of endearment just to show that, while he might not always physically show you how much he loves you, he still harbors such strong feelings of love, admiration, and care for you.

hwang intak

- intak is so incredibly loud and proud each year when it’s your birthday.

- after keeho, he’s probably the next member to eagerly wish you a happy birthday, smothering you in hugs and kisses, squeezing you tight as he proclaims how happy he is that it’s your birthday. jokingly will call you an old man at least once in the day.

- p1ece love his birthday post to you because he drops some of the most top tier pics of you, everyone say thank u intak.

- physically cannot be away from you for too long or else he will start whining about how you have to be near him for your birthday. likes holding onto your arm as an anchor in keeping you close.

- probably another member to quietly cry about how you’re getting older in the privacy of his room or when you all are around the cake, he just randomly lets a tear or two slip. but they’re happy tears, he swears! he’s just sososo happy that you’re life is continuing on for another year AND MANY MORE !!!!!!!! and he just feels so grateful to be able to see you actually grow into such a strong individual, becoming a man he loves and truly admires.

- scrolls through old photos of you and him from your pre-debut days and the smile on his face when he does is so unbelievably wide.

- just a smiley guy throughout the entire day, physical affection amped up to the max, and maybe a tear or two slipping,

haku shota

- the only person to explictly say that they love you in their online post to you.

- loves posting the silliest photos that you two have together, he thinks that that side of yours is one he loves seeing because it reminds him of how the two of you would goof off a lot when you were younger. obviously, having debuted there is almost always some level of maturity and professionalism that you need to show in public. but those silly pics he has of you two together are just cute ways of shota showing everyone, and reminding himself, that at heart, you’re just a silly guy.

- another latcher, along with intak. likes to just be on top of you the entire day, have fun carrying around two fully grown men around with you because these two seriously won’t be away from you for longer than a minute.

- incredibly vocal on your birthday, way more than he usually is because he just loves talking about how it’s your special day, how you’re getting older, but still remaining the same boy that was guiding him when he was a trainee, how much he loves you, how much he hopes you enjoy your day, how- the list goes on.

- will hand you your gift with an eager look on his face, wanting to see you open it right then and there because he was so particular in picking it out for you and wants to see if he did a good job (tell him he did because he did. do it rn. don’t be RUDE tell him or else.)

- definitely not the type to get sentimental though, he doesn’t like looking at birthdays like that. instead, he’s in a completely celebratory mood and outrageously positive the entire day. someone would think it was his birthday from how excited he is about today.

kim jongseob

- jongseob’s post about you is absolutely beautiful and it makes him bashful to read what he feels being made public, but he gets over it rather quickly because he knows that that is how he truly feels and that there’s no other way he could have worded it to you. he also wants people to know how deeply he cares for you and how much admiration he holds for you in his heart. it’s slightly embarrassing, but he gets over it when he hears you acknowledge how his words have touched you.

- he is taking pictures of you the entire day. his film camera, his phone, videoing you as well, he just really wants to commemorate this day and have something to look fondly back on.

- shows you privately, probably at the end of the night when everyone is more worn out, all the photos and videos he had taken of you from all your birthdays prior to this one, smiling into you as you hug him tightly and thank him. he squeezes you just as tight, softly whispering a happy birthday to you and pulling away with a wide grin.

- doesn’t really get sentimental PUBLICALLY, but understands why the other members would. he is secretly super thankful that he gets to be present in your life for each birthday you have had since he’s met you and whenever you blow out your candle, he is, again, secretly wishing with you that you have nothing but a healthy future in front of you. and maybe, also how he wants to be in your life for forever and be there to celebrate every single future birthday with you.

- the next day he looks at the special photo that he has of the two of you in his studio (the one from when you were trainees still — i mentioned it briefly in my other seventh member post) and smiles really sadly at it. realizes that you two will never be those kids again, but snaps himself out of his by reminding himself that he can’t take this present time for granted either.

- jongseob has an undying devotion and care for you that he translates into photos and videos captured of you, smiling softly at them whenever he is in his alone time and just feeling so lucky he gets to really be by your side as you grow older.

[godsfavdarling]

between the pages

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

words: 1.1k

summary: You go to a bookstore to meet your favorite author, but you end up meeting someone else as well...

warnings: none? anxious reader? i imagine early seasons Spencer

The heat of the July day is stifling, even as the rain pours down, creating a steamy haze that envelops the city. You dash into the cozy little bookstore, shaking off the rain from your umbrella before folding it and tucking it under your arm. The familiar scent of old paper and ink welcomes you, providing a comforting contrast to the oppressive weather outside.

You’ve been looking forward to this day for weeks, ever since you found out that your favorite author was going to be in town for a Q&A session. You clutch your well-worn copy of their latest novel to your chest, anticipation and nervousness bubbling up inside you. The small crowd inside the bookstore buzzes with excitement.

Finding a spot in the back, you scan the room. Shelves crammed with books stretch from floor to ceiling, creating narrow, winding aisles that invite you to explore. The wooden floor creaks underfoot, adding to the old-world charm. Soft, golden light filters through the large front windows, reflecting off the rain-soaked streets outside and casting a warm glow over the room.

Looking around, waiting, you notice a tall man standing by the shelf at the very back of the crowd to your left. He's holding a book, his fingers gliding over the pages from top to bottom. He quickly turns each page, repeating the process every few seconds.

What is he doing? Searching for a specific part, just skimming the text? You can't look away. 

Suddenly, he looks up and locks eyes with you, furrowing his brows beneath his glasses. Your eyes widen, and you quickly look away, your heart pounding.

You do everything not to look at him again, but you can't help yourself. You steal glances from the corner of your eye. He's reading. His slightly too-long brown hair is tucked behind his ears, and his nose scrunches as he the next page.

Before you can study the mysterious man again  The author arrives, and the atmosphere shifts.

You watch as he takes his place at the front of the room, his demeanor exuding a certain aloofness that you hadn’t anticipated. People begin to settle into their seats, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

As the Q&A begins, you keep looking at the cute guy, catching his eye once or twice. Each time, he looks back puzzled more than annoyed but you regret looking every time, and you feel a flutter in your chest. 

The author answers questions from the audience, his responses often curt and dismissive. You can sense the disappointment among the crowd, but you have planned to be brave and to ask him for weeks now.

You can’t back down. Your questions are too good to be left unanswered. You keep telling yourself to just do it. Just ask. It’s just a question. You will be proud of yourself. You know it.

You muster up the courage to raise your hand, your heart racing as you wait to be called on.

Finally, the author nods in your direction, and you stand up, your voice trembling slightly.

"Hi! First of all thank you for coming to D.C. This is incredible. I love all of your books so much! So um... In your book, there's a recurring theme of redemption. I was wondering what inspired you to explore this theme so deeply?"

The author sighs, barely looking at you. "It's a common theme in literature. Nothing particularly inspired me. Next question."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and you quickly sit back down, the words dying in your throat. You knew it was a bad idea. You should’ve given up asking the second he turned out to be rude. Tears well up in your eyes. Your jaw tightens, and you try to blink back the tears.

"Excuse me," someone says in a soft, measured tone, each word articulated with careful precision.

"I think it's incredibly rude to treat your readers like that," the man on your left speaks up, the same one who had been quietly skimming the pages of his book earlier, his voice gaining strength with each syllable. "These people admire your work and deserve respect. You're here because of them."

The author narrows his eyes, clearly irritated by this interruption. "Who do you think you are, telling me how to behave? I owe nothing to anyone here."

His stands his ground, his voice unwavering. "You owe everything to your readers. Without them, your words would mean nothing. It's disgraceful that you can't even show basic courtesy."

The author scoffs, a condescending smile playing on his lips. "Courtesy is for the weak-minded. I write for those who understand my vision, not for the masses who can't appreciate true art."

The man's jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. "Your arrogance is astounding. You may write for yourself, but your success depends on those you so callously dismiss. Remember that."

The room falls silent, tension thick in the air. The man stares down the author, unflinching in his resolve. After a moment that feels like an eternity, the author looks away, breaking eye contact.

"You have no idea what it takes to create something worthwhile. Next question." the author mutters, his voice tinged with begrudging respect.

The audience falls into a stunned silence, the tension thick in the air.

You find yourself staring at the man with a mix of disbelief and admiration. He had not only stood up to the author's arrogance but had done so eloquently and fearlessly.

It's as if he had articulated the thoughts you couldn't quite put into words yourself.

He looks at you and smiles softly, a reassuring glint in his eyes. You smile and nod softly at him, mouthing silently, "Thank you." 

As the event draws to a close, you feel a mix of relief and exhaustion. The tension of the earlier confrontation still lingers in the air, but you decide it's enough courage for one day.

You watch as others approach the author for autographs and photos, but you quietly gather your things, choosing not to join the crowd.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, suddenly appearing next to you. It's him. His presence is steady and comforting. He's a young guy, around your age, probably a college student (math or physics, for sure. He looks like a nerd) with a kind face. His hair is neatly combed, and his eyes, a shade of brown, convey genuine concern.

You nod, trying to muster a smile. "Thank you for standing up for me."

He smiles back, a warm, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter. "I'm Spencer," he introduces himself.

"Nice to meet you, Spencer," you reply.

[merchelsea]

took care of my girl - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen + fem! driver!(charles gf) reader

summary: after a lifechanging turn in your plans, you need to sort things out with charles to be able to get together with your true love, max. things can't always get so hard, can they?

author's note: the so required part two is FINALLY out. a massive thank you to every one that asked for this, i hope you enjoy it! (a HUGE thank you to @stupidandunnecessary for helping me outt)

word count: +1,6k

previous part

last night, charles and you exchanged less than ten words. you wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know how to start, nor how to do it without hurting him.

it was clear that his feelings were not love, maybe some attraction and friendship, but not love. still, you didn't want to hurt him.

you loved max, but you were in a relationship with charles. you weren't quite sure if he would understand, and even if he did, things were a lot more complicated since you were three public figures.

charles woke up to find you, very dizzy and confused, staring at the ceiling of the room in silence. he regained his sences before you thought of moving, and he soon started talking.

"you love him." he stated, looking over at you. startled, you turned to look at him, taken aback by his smiling face. "I- what?" you asked him.

"max. you love him." with that smile planted on his lips, you struggled to articulate something to tell the him. your well-prepared speech for this very moment seemed to vanish, and your words failed you.

"I'm sorry." it was the only thing you could say after having your mouth half-opened for seconds.

"what are you sorry for? loving someone? that is not your fault." he reassured you. "I'm not angry, if that's why your apologizing. I'm happy for you." you couldn't quite comprehend what he was trying to tell you, and he noticed it by the puzzled glances you shot at him.

"I'm happy for you both. I know I've never been a top contestant to the 'best boyfriend' award, quite the contrary. but I also know we both started this relationship out of loneliness." he claimed. it was evident that you weren't the only one preparing for this moment.

"I'm still sorry." you persisted. he chuckled, but you never even gave him a trace of a smile. you couldn't.

"you don't have to be. you deserved to be happy. to be loved in the same intensity that you love someone. that is something only verstappen can do." leclerc understood this situation a whole lot more than you expected him to, and you were starting to wonder if he might have a female max in his life.

"its a fact, even tho it pains me to admit. I could never make you happy the way he does." he added.

"you deserve that too. I know this probably means nothing to you right now, but it's true." you smiled sadly to him, and he shook his head in disagreemeant.

"it will never mean nothing to me. apart from everything, you were my friend first, and I would hate for that to end." you smiled softly at him, the sadness now less evident. you two stood silent for a while, just breathing and thinking. "look, I'm sorry for not being the boyfriend you deserved." he appologized, breaking the akward smile.

he was ready to continue, and he would have done so if you hadn't interrupted. "it's not entirely your fault. we didn't work out because we didn't love each other. period." charles too was sad about how your realtionship was ending, but he was also grateful that none of you had to get hurt before it happened.

"now, I think we are both mature enough to recognize that and begin another chapter." you continued. he nodded softly and you both stood quite looking at the ceiling.

"y/n, you should really go get him. I still have a headache to deal with but I'll try to pack everything and leave before you return home." he advised with a warm smile. he rose from the bed, moving around it to bend over and kiss your forehead.

"you deserve this, mon chéri." he whispered as he exited the room to confront his weary reflection in the bathroom mirror.

after changing, you left the bedroom with the intention of grabbing a bite to eat. however, you decided that sharing a meal with Max might be better, so you sent him a text. within seconds, he responded, as if he had been awaiting your message his whole life.

the truth is, max could deny all he wanted, but he panicked when he got home and realized charles would be sleeping in the same bed as you, and probably trying to get you back. although he now knew that you loved him, it didn't change the fact that you had been with charles while still harboring those feelings, and that thought terrified him.

that's why he left his hotel without even hesitating and met you at a coffee shop near your house.

"how did he react?" he was clearly trying to avoid the subject, and noticing it, you respected his decision and never brought it up. but he has his limits, and he clearly crossed those. he needed to know, and if you were being real, you needed to tell him as well.

"better than I expected." you replied with a smile, which wasn't what he had anticipated. he couldn't decipher whether your smile meant "we broke up" or "we got back together."

"better how?" he asked, not so sure now that he wanted to know.

verstappen didn't think of himself as an anxious person, but when it came to you, he struggled to conceal his apprehension. He yearned to know every detail, and he might have even fainted if you hadn't filled him in.

"well, he told me to come and get you." you were finding that whole situation a lot more funny than you should, max acting all calm when it was so clear that he was freaking out could be ranked on top of the most entertaining things in the world.

he let out a heavy breath that he was holding for god knows why and you finally could see the beautiful smile he was hiding behind the seriousness.

"really?" he asked, smile still playing on his lips. you nodded, smiling too. anyone who passed by would think you two were a couple on the best stage of your relationship, smiles so wide that everyone could see were genuine.

"well you already have me, so…" max points with a joking tone, every word coming out of his mouth being the most truthful. "why do i always want to kiss you in situations or places where i can't?" he throws his head back, frustrated.

"oh why can't you kiss me now?" you asked. cofusion and also frustration kicking in when you realize its not going to be today as well. you begun to think max might be actually afraid to kiss you.

"there's people here. and i know it's a discreet place, but still…" you almost grasped what the dutch meant, were it not for your intense desire for his lips to meet yours. "what? I don't care about the people, you know I don't."

it's true, he knows you never cared about people's opinions. that's why, from the both of you, he was always the one that helped you with everything you thought of putting out to the world. most of it not coming out thanks to him.

"you may not, but I do. you know how this things work and I don't want my gi- your name associated with sleeping around for a seat."

your smile didn't fail on showing up. he could have just said the most horrific thing ever, you hadn't listened. max verstappen calling you 'my girl' was something out of this world for you. you covered your face with your hands as the gleam in your eyes intensified.

"but, you know, you could always take me home." he added, grinning with both his lips and eyes. "let me finish this and we'll go right away." max nodded and took his phone out, pretending to be composed on the outside while feeling like an exuberant child within. he eventually even snapped a few pictures of you to keep for himself and immediately changed his locked screen. he's not familiar with the concept of going slow.

exiting the coffee shop, you and max laughed like a pair of joyful fools, unable to recall precisely what was so amusing. at some point, you found yourselves laughing at each other for no apparent reason. what you both knew for certain was that spending time together was effortless—it brought a profound sense of peace.

as you closed the door behind you, max took your hand and pulled you close to him. his free hand found its place on your cheek, his thumb tenderly caressing it. "after all these years, I can finally kiss you."

the smile on the red bull driver's face emphasized his happiness. although your smile wasn't as broad, your eyes spoke volumes.

in the end, his focus remained on your eyes. for three years, max had gazed into those same brown eyes, yet each time felt like he could continue indefinitely. and, indeed, he could.

from his prespective, it was the greatest view one could have. and he was genuinely sorry for everyone that would never get the chance to do so.

when he finally let go of your eyes, he foccused on your lips, not as mesmerizing, but equally breathtaking.

before he kissed you, you got a good look at his deep ocean blue eyes. had you not been studying them since the day you met their owner, you might have easily lost yourself in their beauty.

you almost cursed max for closing them, but if that meant you got to study his lips too, you could never complain.

once he guided you into the kiss, one of your hands instinctively traveled to the back of his neck, while the other one squeezed his, trying to be sure that this was really happening.

it became evident that your lips were made solely for each other—the way they fit perfectly, moved in harmony, and how max's lips embraced yours as if he had been doing it for a lifetime. every element aligned to create perfection—this is what love felt like.

with max, it felt right. with max, it was love.

taglist: @mehrmonga @yourusername1 @lexiecamposv @electrobutterfly @miakatharinaa @jeconnaismeslimitesus

[redr0sewrites]

Adam (or lute) with a really insecure S/o? like to the point of wearing baggy sweaters in extreme heat type. I imagine either of them having absolutely none of that-

ok but this is so real hello??? i love this request!!!

🥀Cw: angst to fluff, adam being adam

🥀Pairing(s): Adam x reader, Lute x reader

Adam:

adam isn't the most observant person in the world, so when he first met you, he didn't really notice anything strange about how insecure you are

adam fell hard and fast, and once you two were official, he began to notice the effort you put into hiding your body

he also noticed how, compared to him, you never bragged about yourself and you were always so self depricating

adam isn't very... empathic, and he sometimes has a hard time understanding your insecurities

adam doesn't understand why you don't love yourself- he thinks you're stunning and smart and gorgeous. how could you not see how wonderful you are?

he's mever been great at communicating, but he makes it a point to start reminding you how "fucking awesome" you are, and how lucky he is to be with you

when it comes to baggy and heavy clothes, adam doesn't care much about how you dress, moreso how you feel

he'll offer you his oversized shirts if it will make you more comfortable, but if you're deliberately overheating just to hide your body? no, that's not okay

thats probably when he'll pull you aside and ask whats up

while adam isn't great at explaining himself, he tries his best to articulate that he doesn't care what your body looks like or what you wear, as long as you're happy and comfortable

however, that also means he doesn't want you overheating or getting yourself sick, and will offer to just chill at home with you instead of going out

on days when you're feeling really insecure, adam will give you his robe to wear to make you feel more comfy, and will curl up with you on the couch in your shared apartment, far away from anyone else's prying eyes

adam just wants you to feel comfortable around him, and wants you to know that he loves you regardless of what you look like, but will never try to force you to be less insecure and will always try to make you more comfortable

even if he's a bit of an asshole and doesn't always understand, he's your asshole and you wouldn't have it any other way

Lute:

if you're datinh, lute worships the ground you walk on, she genuinely thinks you're perfect and doesn't understand how you could think otherwise

lute is also pretty observant and notices right away how insecure you seem to be

she takes it upon herself to compliments you often, not only on your looks, but on your skills and personality as well

lute doesn't show her body much either so she doesn't really care whether or not you do, but if you're hiding your body to the point where its genuinely harmful? nope. not gonna fly.

she's more mature than adam and would sit you down to have a conversation with you about how you feel

she doesn't want it to seem like a confrontation, she knows how sharp and rude she can appear and doesn't want her icy demeanor to scare you away

once she understands the situation a little better she offers genuine advice and is always very supportive

lute would invite you to go on walks with her, or to sit with her while she works out, and overall just offers to spend more time with you to work through any insecurities you may have

she doesn't want you to feel like you have to hide any part of yourself when around her, and will kiss every inch of your body and praise you to the moon and back until you understand that

lute wants you to stay safe and would fret if you overheated, as much as she wants you to be comfortable she also wants you to be healthy- physically and mentally

she understands that you don't want to purposefully overheat and doesn't blame you, but she is also pretty serious about you keeping yourself safe

on hot days you both mostly just stay home, and whenever you're feeling especially insecure she cooks you your comfort meal and chats with you to get your mind off things

i need them both this is not a drill. also what if i told you i had zestial x reader in my drafts huh. what then.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Gah. You hate the taste. It doesn’t get any better and it feels worse on your skin. There’s something unnatural about human biology. Should that be so slimy?  

You’re not a prude, not mentally, only experientially. The act itself, yeah, it’s kind of hot, but the finale. That’s too much. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly mutual. None of this is. 

It’s weird, actually. The more you think of it, sat naked under a desk, in the mess of his excitement, you can’t help but analyse the situation you find yourself in. This man articulated a strategic destruction of your life; he messed with your rent, your bank, your job, and now you’re sitting her in his house, perched on your heels like an orphan begging for more gruel. 

You frown as you rub your chin again. Despite the single tissue he offered, you still felt the residue clinging to your skin. You need a shower. Or maybe some clothes. That would be nice. You scrunch up your nose and sneer. 

“What the hell is that face for?” Floyd—Lloyd snips and you look up to meet his gaze through the glass top of the desk, his keyboard blocking out all but one of his blue eyes. Hey, he has nice eyes for a meanie. You’d never tell him because he’s not a very good listener. 

“Nothing, I just...” you shrug and his eye flicks down to the jiggle of your chest. You cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, “can I go wash off or something?” 

“Why?” He challenges. 

Your lips part and a puff of air shoots out. Is he serious? 

“I... I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything but semen smells and I smell like semen, so going by a very basic formula--” 

“Oh my god, you don’t stop. Why can’t you just say anything straight out? Why’s it this nonsense?” He growls. 

“Fair enough, but I’m still hoping to see a sink or maybe a washcloth--” 

He rolls his eyes and closes them. He sits back and puts his hands to either side of his nose and exhales heavily. He clucks as he drops his arms and considers you as he leans against the leather cushioning. 

“You don’t make the rules. Stay.” 

He rolls back up to the desk and starts typing again. You look at the bottom of the sleek keyboard. He’s definitely an Apple guy, the iMac isn’t even the biggest giveaway. He just has that essence to him. He’s one of those guys who claims to be all about the best of everything but really he’s just buying into capitalism. He’s basic; mainstream. 

What is he even doing? Typing, clicking, scowling at the screen. Is he working? What on earth does he even do? Well, if you account for the mustache, the tacky clothes, and shoes without socks, you might assume he’s some sort of salesman. Used cars if you were to go by looks alone and yet his house would suggest more than that.  

He doesn’t look like a lawyer. He could be a tech bro, again, Apple everything. Still, the way he types doesn’t really seem savvy. He’s got the whole chicken peck down pat, jabbing each key with his index finger. So you’re at a loss. What the hell do rich people do? How do they even get rich? 

“Would you stop staring at me like that?” He stops again, another glare through the glass. 

You swallow and shake your head, shifting on your knees as you keep your arms across your chest. 

“Sir, Mr. Jansen--” 

“Hansen,” he grits dangerously. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, sir, please, it’s cold in here, can I get a sweater or maybe you could turn off the air? This time of day, the rate must be ridiculous.” 

His lashes flutter and his forehead lines. His hand closes to a fist then opens. His chest rises and he squares his jaw. 

“You’re distracting me. I’m trying to work.” 

“So maybe I could go somewhere else. It’s a big house--” 

“My house,” he insists. 

“A very nice house,” you offer, “I mean I’m sitting down here, my knees are killing me, I’m shivering, I can’t sit still. You’re not gonna get anything done. I’m agreeing with you. One hundred percent. I’m annoying. A real nuisance so let the leash go a little bit. Promise, I won’t touch a thing--” 

He squints then his eyes flick up as he thinks. His lips thin and he huffs. He brings his fingertips together, elbows planted on the glass desk, and taps them as he hums. 

“You’re lucky you can make me cum,” he grumbles. 

“Ah, but sir, don’t give me all the credit. You’re a very good cummer. An expert, it seems.” 

His nose crinkles and his mouth falls open, for just a second. His cheek dimples and he shakes it away, “what on earth are you fucking on about?” 

“I’m just saying, sir, I don’t know much about the old sausage link but I’m comparing it to the hub--” 

“The hub?” 

“PornHub, I’m sure you know it.” 

He lets out cluck but says nothing else. 

“Anyway, you got what they would call girth,” you gesture with your hands. “Good job, although, maybe it’s more a genetic type thing. Not really something you did...” 

He stares at you for a moment the pushes his knees wide. He takes a breath and slides slightly forward in his chair. You are keenly aware of the twitch beneath his pants. Please, not again. Are their calories in cum? 

“You watch a lot of porn?” He asks, a genuine hint of interest in his voice. The furthest from spite you’ve heard from him. 

“Eh, not as much as some people, I'm sure. I get curious,” you say. “but within discretion. Never wanna go too far down the rabbit hole.” 

He taps his toe and gives a thoughtful angle of his chin, twining his fingers between each other, “what kinds?” 

“Mm, well, I dunno. Usually, I just click something on the front page that doesn’t look too wild. Like creampie is pretty standard, I guess. Doggystyle is usually all over, but the stepdaughter stuff, ick. Not for me, sir. No way.” 

He makes a clicking noise in his throat and slowly reclines in his chair, “you are way too honest for your own good.” 

“Maybe, I guess. In this situation though, what do I get from lying? Besides, I see the stache,” you shoot him with a fingergun then quickly holster it. “You definitely are trawling around. RedTube? Xvideos?” 

“You said you’re curious,” he ignores your question, “you don’t... do anything while you watch?” 

You feel a subtle tickle in your thighs. The casual air turns thick. You’re starting to get worked up. 

“Eh, well, you know... the fingers find a way,” you look away and giggle nervously. “I go on these women’s forums. They say you should know yourself best before you try with a partner. Obviously, I haven’t found my number two yet but I know my way around my captain's chair. I can get to warp speed.” 

His lips curve slowly as you look back to him and you gulp. You’ve said too much. Again. The very reason you fell head first into this predicament. 

“Sir, why are you looking at me like that?” You squeak. 

He chuckles and brushes his fingertips over his bristly mustache, “well, sweet lips, show me the way.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes round. 

“Show me around your captain's chair, as you so eloquently put it,” he demands and wiggles two fingers at you.