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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

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a spoonful of sugar part two | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar, here we go again

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

yourusername

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yourusername: we're in JAPAN 🇯🇵 WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!! yeah suzuka is cool and all but more importantly - SUSHI TIME and my oh my that spread is glorious if i do say so myself

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user1: oscar babygirlism is so real

landonorris: HOW DARE YOU GUYS INVITE ME OVER FOR DINNER AND SERVE THAT

yourusername: boo fucking hoo, i've had enough of your whining buddy

landonorris: OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEING MEAN

oscarpiastri: i mean i would take the home-cooked meal from the professional chef but that's just me

landonorris: stop shaming me :( i can't help it :(

yourusername: okay stop being dramatic, you can comeback from your hiding place i made chicken sushi as well

landonorris: oh thank you 😊

oscarpiastri: when i came in as the YOUNGER teammate, i didn't think y/n and i would be babysitting you

landonorris: you guys love me really

user2: i think y/n might have the patience of a saint

user3: i think i would die happy if i got a sushi spread from y/n

yukitsunoda0511: personally offended i was not invited :(

yourusername: nooooooooooo yukiii :((((( - i'll bring left overs ?

yukitsunoda0511: yes please (i'm much nicer than lando)

landonorris: when will the slander end?

oscarpiastri: i'm personally offended that any time y/n is visiting ME she ends up cooking and looking after all of you :(

yourusername: i love you the most though

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

user4: this relationship is so precious to me actually

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,094,558 others

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oscarpiastri: over the moon to get my first podium in f1 in my rookie season. p.s. get yourself a girlfriend that gives you a candy bouquet to celebrate your podium

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user5: oscodium i know that's right

mclarenf1: we don't think that's in your meal plan, but we'll let it slide for just this once

yourusername: damn right you will 🔫🔫🔫

oscarpiastri: okay no threatening my team on a post about my podium

yourusername: i guess they're fine (FOR NOW) (the next time i see team orders it's on sight)

mclarenf1: ... does this mean no more pasta parties? :(

yourusername: get my boy his first win and pasta for life for all of you

user6: the way y/n and oscar's mum both fell into each other when oscar crossed the finish line

user7: they're so real for that

user8: y/n is REAL wag representation, i too would go FUCKING mental if my boyf got a podium i would also be spraying champagne all over the garage and crying my eyes out

yourusername: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU MORE, THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME - and looking after my mum after you caused a stampede in the garage

yourusername: hold on nicole is just as crazy as me

oscarpiastri: my two favourite women EVA

user9: when you're besties with your boyf's mum >>

landonorris: congrats oscahhhhhhh - how does one procure one of these bouquets?

oscarpiastri: hands off pal 🤨

landonorris: i just want CANDY STOP ACCUSING ME OF STUFF

yourusername: oh so now you want my food ....

landonorris: why are you ganging up on me ??? I'M JUST A CHILD ???

user10: i love watching oscar and y/n ganging up on lando

logansargeant

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logansargeant: category is: thirdwheeling - the food is a definite plus

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user12: the real best trio in f1 ... sorry 2019 rookies

alexalbon: logie bear beating the unseasoned allegations... i am impressed

logansargeant: i am cultured?

yourusername: logan had no choice, he was eating what i made him

logansargeant: but i liked it!

yourusername: you did, i'm a proud mother

alexalbon: what are the chances of me and james getting some of the y/n food, we deserve it more than mclaren

yourusername: name the price...

user13: i love how oscar and y/n have collected so many drivers this season despite being the youngest

oscarpiastri: not even finished my first season and we've accumulated so many "children"

logansargeant: don't have a gf who is such a good chef if you didn't want to babysit me

yourusername: we can't help it we're mOTHER

oscarpiastri: 💅

charles_leclerc: @oscarpiastri did our post podium dinner in aus mean nothing? you're neglecting your 26 year old child

maxverstappen1: classic treatment of the eldest girl 😔

yourusername: you guys done being dramatic?

charles_leclerc: one second

charles_leclerc: YOU'RE JUST THE SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE, PICK ME UP AND DROP ME - USERS !!!!

charles_leclerc: okay done :)

oscarpiastri: ok... idk what the fuck is going on here

maxverstappen1: we want food [bangs cutlery on imaginary table]

user14: oscar going from being the shy one on the grid to wrangling charles and max is killing me

user15: him and y/n have the grid wrapped around their finger

yourusername

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yourusername: this is everything you have ever deserved

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user18: i am going to throw myself on the track and let oscar run me over and put me out of my misery

oscarpiastri: i love you so much, couldn't do it without your support

yourusername: NUH UH you're SUPER DUPER AMAZINGLY FAST and i am lucky to be here to witness you :)

oscarpiastri: okay.... but no more passing out in the garage

yourusername: i'm just a girl 🎀

oscarpiastri: my girl x

yourusername: YOUR GIRL (i've seen the tiktok edits BACK OFF)

user19: the way the other team members and teams let them have their moment was so cute

user20: zak brown pushing her to the front to be able to see him on the podium... maybe i don't hate him as much as i thought

user21: her taking ten billion photos while crying her eyes out was so cute

yourusername: they're all blurry 🧍🏻‍♂️

maxverstappen1: i guess you're the only one i'll tolerate outshining my championship win... congrats oscar!

oscarpiastri: thank you max :) also thank you to gp for giving y/n an ice pack

yourusername: gp got his name on a piece of cake

maxverstappen1: what about my cake?

yourusername: i guess i can spare another slice for you

oscarpiastri: we can give you a whole cake tomorrow if you let me win tomorrow?

maxverstappen1: nice try dude

yourusername: you haven't tried it yet

oscarpiastri: it's laced with crack (literally, DQ coming fast)

maxverstappen1: ????

yourusername: we jest

oscarpiastri: or do we?

user22: is gp another person they've collected?

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and 1,094,873 others

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oscarpiastri: no one else i'd rather celebrate with

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user23: they don't know it yet but they're actually my parents

user24: yeah, yeah oscar won a race woo BUT MAMA DROP THE RECIPE FOR THE THIRD SLIDE LOOKS LIKE IT BANGS

yourusername: i'm so unbelievably proud of you oscar, crying in the club right now

oscarpiastri: i didn't know the shower was also called the club (i can hear you crying and though i'm grateful you are this happy for me, it's getting slightly concerning)

yourusername: i just can't contain my excitement for you and it's turned into tears HAPPY TEARS

oscarpiastri: my mum can hear it from her room as well

yourusername: can't believe i'm being shamed like this

landonorris: will you cry this much for my first win

yourusername: nope, actively praying against it

landonorris: WHAT ??? OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEEN TOO MEAN THIS TIME

yourusername: i only want oscar to win every race from now until he retires soz buddy

oscarpiastri: idk that sounds like a good deal to me lando

landonorris: @yourusername i hope you drown in your tears

user25: well that escalated

danielricciardo: proud of you baby aussie !!! how can we get some aussie bbq in the paddock as celebration @yourusername 🤭

yourusername: someone get me a grill asap

danielricciardo: okay max it's time to stop being selfish, let oscar win another race so we can get more bbq i'm homesick

maxverstappen1: that's cute and all but FUCK THEM KIDS

yourusername: well no bbq for you then

maxverstappen1: you and oscar love me really

oscarpiastri: ???

user26: the way y/n tussles with these men kills me

user27: at this point get her a microphone and get her on that grid walk

mclarenf1

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mclarenf1: y/n delivered the pasta party she promised (admin is now in a food coma no more posts for the rest of the day)

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user28: the way we all thought this was a joke... i am now unwell

user29: dead ass the cutest thing i've ever seen

yourusername: thank you for having me besties, thank you for giving oscar a fast car and i hope you all actually make your flights in your pasta-induced naps

mclarenf1: that carbonara has me snoozing up a storm

oscarpiastri: (we nearly missed our flight)

landonorris: worth it, that pasta banged

yourusername: why thank you everyone i am blushing

yourusername: but real talk when does all this pasta translate into team orders in oscar's favour

mclarenf1: i don't think that's in my job description

landonorris: ...

oscarpiastri: well....

yourusername: you're making me look like a bad person 😭 i just want oscar to have the best possible time ever

oscarpiastri: i love you <3

landonorris: ugh... i guess that's cute

user30: i have never been more jealous ever in my life and it's over PASTA

georgerussell63: i am mobilising the GDPA against this. it's either pasta for ALL of us or NONE of us

yourusername: bring back seb you big wet wipe

georgerussell63: EXCUSE YOU!

charles_leclerc: i am an honourary italian and i am quite frankly offended i was not at least offered the left overs

oscarpiastri: but this was my special pasta party for my sprint win :(

georgerussell63: don't try and use that very cute and wholesome excuse with me mister, we have been robbed of pasta

yourusername: you queens are so dramatic i can't

user31: this sport is so unserious, they wouldn't protest over the conditions this weekend but pasta is where they draw the line 😭

yourusername

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yourusername: if you're at COTA come on down to my bbq station it's mr america (@logansargeant) approved

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user33: miss ma'am is really raising the bar for all wags at this point

user34: who else is doing up masterchef at the track

logansargeant: i can confirm it is very good

yourusername: i knew there was a reason we love you logie bear

logansargeant: the ribs were so good you should honestly get an american passport

user35: guys i went and omg IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD + y/n was so fucking nice and said all proceeds are going to helping disadvantaged children get into karting

user36: my heart is so full i love them

maxverstappen1: slowing me down by making me have bbq i see how it is

yourusername: no one forced you to eat it buddy

maxverstappen1: well it's steak and mac and cheese ur dumb if you think i'm NOT fucking it up

yourusername: you got me there

danielricciardo: that was scrummy

charles_leclerc: petition for this to be here every week

georgerussell63: this just makes me more angry about missing out on pasta

user37: oscar is so much stronger than me cause if i had y/n i'd be asking for an absolute feast all of the time and would not stick to my meal plan

oscarpiastri: my favourite person doing her favourite thing <3

yourusername: you're my favourite thing

landonorris: keep that to yourself

yourusername: i can't love my bf now?

landonorris: that man is a child keep it PG

oscarpiastri: you made it not PG

yourusername: stop forcing your agenda on us lando

landonorris: i can't win with you people

oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri: first season done. proud. ready to eat like a king

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user38: i don't think i've ever barked in response to a picture of food

landonorris: where's mineeeeee :((((((((

oscarpiastri: season is over mate. y/n is back to being mine and mine only, we're hibernating in aus

landonorris: selfish

yourusername: let us eat our sushi in peace this off season

user39: oscar ready to keep y/n to himself what a king

oscarpiastri: tired of sharing my gf :( i know she's the bestest ever but still i was getting separation anxiety when she was stolen to make food for george

georgerussell63: no regrets

yourusername: you were always a king, but i'm ready to treat you like royalty

oscarpiastri: right back at you, queen

yourusername: all the food WE want all off season

maxverstappen1: okay guys we can hear you

charles_leclerc: this is no way to talk about your 27 year old children honestly

landonorris: i'm calling childline actually

yourusername: feel free girl, kiss my ass cause you won't see it for months

landonorris: GASP!

oscarpiastri: that's been brewing, stop asking y/n to make you chicken dippers bro

landonorris: :(

yourusername: regardless of all the tomfoolery and the stray cats (drivers) we've picked up, i'm so proud of you oscar - here's to an even better year next year

oscarpiastri: thank you, my love. couldn't do it without you. i love you.

yourusername: i love you too osc

fin.

note: heyyy?? yeah i've kinda gone missing in action. i am working on the last two WIPs but i am so busy and my writers block is so bad i had to revisit an old fave lol. hope yall enjoy !

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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yuamin · 7 months ago

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ORORUN REDRAW GUIDE !

i think we’ve all seen the atrocity that is genshin’s unreleased character, ororun. the entirety of natlan is a mess really, but as a yoruba person myself i CANNOT keep quiet about ororun specifically.

outside yoruba mythology, in yoruba, ‘Olorun’ (the name ororun is based on, pronounced o-law-roon , with o pronounced as in orange and the ‘roon’ pronounced shortly, not dragged on at all) is actually the same word we often use to refer to God in Christianity. Christianity is the primary religion among us yorubas so honestly, i was kinda glad they misspelled his name. it would feel SO disrespectful referring to whatever that thing is with the same word we use to refer to God who we actually worship. religion aside, genshin’s depiction of Olorun (cultural god, not Christian one) is downright disgusting. i’d never paid too much attention to genshin and its poor representation, but now that my culture has fallen victim to it, i completely understand all the outrage.

edit: please note that while we use ‘Olorun’ to refer to the Christian God, Olorun is just a general word for ‘god’ itself ! for example if i say “God in heaven” and “god of thunder” we know i’m referring to two different beings, in yoruba it’s the kind of the same—the same word is used to refer to both the Christian and other gods, but we know it’s different, even though olorun can be capitalized regardless of what god we’re talking about (unlike english where the Christian God is capitalized and other gods aren’t) at the end of the day though, when we say “olorun” even without context, we are usually referring to the christian God !

1. PLEASE DO NOT DRAW HIM WITH ANIMAL EARS !

i’ve noticed that hoyoverse has this nasty habit of portraying every dark skinned character as wild or animal-esque. kaeya seems to be the only exception to this. even xinyan, though lacking any animal features, has this wild energy to her. some might call it a stretch, but i feel like her features are pretty feline in comparison to other liyue characters.

Olorun in our culture is the supreme god of the heavens. In my opinion, it is disrespectful to liken him to something akin to an animal. normally i wouldn’t even mind that much, but with how hoyo makes its few dark characters more and more like animals, i can’t help but feel weird about it. its really off putting.

2. HIS HAIR WOULD NOT BE CURLY !

majority of nigerians have 4C HAIR. not wavy hair or loose curls. some have 4B, but 4C is the usual here, that is, kinky or coily hair. Olorun is often portrayed as bald in traditional art, but trust me if he had hair his hair would resemble his people’s, not Tyla’s.

DREADLOCKS ARE A YES ! outside nigeria, locking hair is pretty common, but in nigeria a lot of people have locks naturally. our hair sometimes just grows out that way, no treatment no nothing. dreads are 100% an appropriate style, they look good asf too.

3. PLEASE USE CULTURAL FABRICS IN YOUR DESIGNS !

when i saw ororun’s outfit, i almost started crying. they couldn’t even bother to dress him up a little. they really dressed my brother in a scarf and cape and called it a day 😭 upon how fashionable we nigerians are know to be, hoyoverse still made it their mission to embarrass us stylistically. God knows my people have suffered man 😭

ankara is a traditional nigerian fabric that features bright colors and lots of patterned designs. see below:

here in 9ja, we love our ankara. it’s a big part of our fashion here and trust me it would look excellent in your designs. it’s perfectly fine to draw ororun in normal fabrics since he’s a deity and it’s not like ankara existed back then, but if you really want to represent nigeria, ankara is a must 🙏

i’m going to address another fashion piece because if you search up nigerian fashion you’ll see it a lot: beads.

these orange beads are igbo (another tribe here in nigeria) NOT yoruba. does this mean you can’t use it in olorun’s design ? no ! let me explain. tbh, here in nigeria there’s a bit of...tension between clans. it’s not that common, but older people are definitely a lot more tribalist. as a yoruba i love my igbo brothers and sisters, i truly believe they’re the most fashionable clan and i adore their festivities, they always go over the top. please, just look at them:

(only one image because of image caps, ugh)

anyway, we yorubas wear beads too. but the specific way the beads are worn around the head and in multiple layers round the neck is igbo, not yoruba. though i personally wouldn’t care too much if i saw olorun with igbo beads since all i want is for him to at least look nigerian, at the end of the day he is a yoruba deity. it might be disrespectful to dress the god of one clan as if he belongs to another, especially since there is so much historical ( and very slight but uncommon present ) day tension between both clans.

here’s a more yoruba outfit. sorry yall, it might be hard for you to distinguish if you’re not yoruba or igbo, but a lot of nigerians can tell the difference at a glance. ( actually nowadays, there is so much overlap between yoruba and igbo fashion, but there are many specific styles that may be associated with one tribe and not the other, for example how beads are worn in the above paragraph ) please do your research, he’s not only a nigerian god, but a yoruba one.

one more thing, because i know it will start discourse : skin tone.

nigerians have a very diverse range of skin tones. some of us are so pale, if not for our afrocentric features we could maybe pass for another race. however, ororun is yoruba.

light skinned nigerians are usually igbo. not to say that yorubas can’t be light skin, but here in nigeria if you saw a light skinned person, we’d automatically assume they were igbo. igbo people usually have lighter skin tones. majority of yorubas fall on the more milk to dark chocolate end of the skin tone spectrum. i’m saying this now because i know a lot of people are going to start arguments over ororun being redrawn as ‘too light’ or ‘too dark.’ i don’t really care about complexion, but i thought i’d help you all get your facts right.

that’s it ! if you read all this i’m super thankful. i don’t usually post about this kind of stuff but i honestly love my country and could go on about it for days. nigeria is such a beautiful place with a diverse range of cultures— from hausas to fulanis to so many more. natlan was supposed to be Africa’s time to shine, as well as latin americans, but hoyoverse said fuck you and your people. they did this to an extent with sumeru but natlan was done straight up dirty—not a single melanated character in sight, and the only one who does have melanin, iansan, looks so desaturated you might as well call her grey. i saw someone on tiktok call mualani a dark skinned character—it was at that point that i knew genshin was done for.

please REBLOG this post so it reaches more people and artists in the fandom !! this is literally the third time i’m making this post because tumblr refuses to show it in the tags for some reason 😭 i encourage other cultures who feel misrepresented to make posts like this too. it’s a perfect opportunity to educate and inform people about the diverse cultures genshin has once again failed to represent properly.

Hoyo has never been one to make customer satisfaction their top priority, but we’ve been able to call them out before and i truly believe we can do it again. Natlan is not poor design choice. it is blatant racism, a nation based on POC ethnicities with not a single colored character insight. Hoyoverse has been able to escape racism accusations for as long as i can remember, but natlan is the icing on the cake. we CANNOT allow hoyo to proceed as planned without giving them the appropriate backlash.

Also, if you redraw ororun using this guide, make sure to tag me here or on my main blog, @heartkaji !! i’d love to see all your redesigns. once again, thank you all for reading and have an amazing day !!

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novascharms · 25 days ago

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teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 1.8 chapter index — next chap. masterlist

one

thursday, january 9th

go where the wind takes me. it’s a phrase you’d heard countless times over the years. it eased people, gave them perspective, helped them loosen up. but you? no, it did the opposite. it made you do what you did best—research. what kind of research? the top 100 most successful people and whether they’d ever "gone with the wind." the answer was no. not a single one. going with the wind doesn’t make anyone successful. it leads to dead ends, wrong turns, wasted time—and time was the one thing no one could afford to squander.

the importance of planning everything as meticulously as possible was something that you'd ingrained in your mind at a young age and it had led you exactly where you were. it was the foundation of everything you’d achieved: top of your class, surrounded by like-minded peers, ready for a prestigious summer program, and just a year away from the university of your dreams. everything you’d worked for was at your fingertips. nothing could get in your way now.

"hi, sandy," you greeted the office secretary who watched you struggling to balance a precarious stack of papers in your arms.

"good morning, sweetheart. need help with that?" sandy asked with a warm smile.

"nope, i’ve got it," you replied, setting the stack on the counter with a satisfying thud. carefully, you aligned the papers before placing your palms on top to steady them.

"these are the documents for the student body audit next week. i printed an extra copy for principal oakley, complete with annotations, just in case there’s any confusion."

"always so thorough," sandy remarked with a grin. the compliment made your entire week.

"ah, just who i needed to see." a familiar voice sounded behind you and you twirled around to see principal oakley walking into the office. "oh, good morning, principal oakley." you said, your tone as polished as ever. you barely glanced at the boy trailing behind him before falling into step with the principal.

and yes, following him into his office was a tad unconventional but someone with as much determination and drive as you rarely let things like "innaproriate behaviour" get in your way.

"you are just who i wanted to see too. i know the holidays just ended but i did want to just follow up on my recommendation letter which you'd think about writing, remember?" you fixed your bag on your shoulder as principal oakley sat at his desk and briefly glanced behind you.

"y/n—" the principal tried to interrupt.

you didn't stop talking. "and i know you don't write recommendation letters for your students to keep things fair and whatnot but i—" principal oakley tried to interrupt again but didn't have the chance before you continued rattling. "—hope you reconsidered because i just know that having your letter under my belt will make me stand out to the admissions board and who am i if not representation for our fine school?"

principal oakley cleared his throat and this time you noticed the brief glance behind you. you slowly followed his gaze to see rafe cameron leaning against the doorframe.

your mental file on him loaded instantly: soccer player, tall, messy, and in your opinion, a bit… ran through. still contemporary philosophy like utilitarianism says the morality of having multiple partners depends on whether it increases overall happiness and minimizes harm so you were in no position to shame anyone just trying to increase their own happiness. you suppose.

"oh, was this a bad time?" you asked sheepishly, stepping aside. "not at all," the principal replied. "in fact, this concerns you as well. please, have a seat—and refrain from going into rants until i'm finished speaking." principal oakley says.

frowning in confusion, you complied. sitting beside rafe, you tried to mask your unease. what could he have to discuss with both you and rafe cameron? you weren't very good with uncertainty so sitting still was becoming a challenge as principal oakley rummaged through his desk.

you had to focus on something to stop yourself from panicking so you focused on him. very discreetly. he was so very..unruly. like something hard to contain, just spilling over the edges with his messy hair, that sweater that was not ironed, the shirt under the sweater that was untucked in that untidy way, that smell—woody with a faint hint of vanilla. you liked that smell.

you looked down at your own clothes—a powder blue ruffle top from khaite that you saved for for months and gifted yourself over winter break, off-white pants that were perfectly ironed and fresh from the laundry, hair in a neat french twist. from first sight, you and him were polar opposites.

"alright, y/n," principal oakley finally sat back down, his gaze steady as you watched him attentively. "you know rafe, right?" he asked, gesturing slightly toward the boy seated across from you. your eyes flicked to rafe, who was already staring at you, his expression unreadable.

"uh-huh," you murmured, turning your focus back to the principal.

"well, rafe here has a little problem." principal oakley slid a paper across the desk, and your curiosity spiked as you glanced down. it was rafe's report card.

it was disastrous.

you gasped softly, and rafe let out a noise of protest. "shit, it's not that bad," he muttered, leaning in close to peer over your shoulder at his own grades. the sudden proximity sent a ripple of awareness through you. despite your best efforts to stay indifferent, the intoxicating mix of his scent and the startling lack of male attention in your life was doing a number on your self-control.

"language, mr. cameron. and yes, it really is that bad," principal oakley said firmly. "which is why we need your help, y/n."

you tried to focus, though every nerve in your body screamed for you to stay perfectly still, afraid rafe would pull back. your intrusive thoughts—chief among them being the absolutely insane urge to bury your head in his neck—were becoming harder to suppress. quickly, you straightened and fixed your attention on the principal.

"my help?" you asked, the words laced with genuine confusion.

"the athletic board won’t let rafe play next season if he doesn’t pass at least one of his failing classes. we’ve discussed it with his teachers, and they believe algebra is his best shot. mr. coleman specifically suggested you for the job. he said your grasp of the material is exceptional, sometimes even surpassing his. your work ethic, dedication, and knowledge are exactly what rafe needs to bring his grade up to a satisfactory six—or, with hope, even a seven or seven and a half."

principal oakley's words hung in the air as you processed them. finally, you blinked slowly. "you want me…" you began cautiously, "to take him from a two-point-five to a seven-point-five in five months?"

"that’s like 150 days," rafe interjected, his tone unexpectedly eager. "we can do this! i’ll be the best student, i swear."

we?

"and on which planet is that 150 days, rafe?" you turned to him, your voice tinged with disbelief. "five months is about 150 days, sure. but i don’t know about you, mr. cameron, but i have class every day from eight to three. we have over 15 assignments a month, tests, midterms in march. i’m student body president. i’m organizing spring fling, pajama day, color war, the bake sale, and the car wash fundraiser—where, by the way, i expect the soccer team’s full, enthusiastic participation in semi-nude form for maximum profit. there’s also valentine’s day card exchanges, college fairs, and, oh, right—i have a life. i need to eat, study, and spend enough time with my friends and family to avoid being accused of neglecting them." you folded your arms. "so tell me, rafe, where in that mess do you see time for this?"

rafe stared at you, slightly wide-eyed.

"exactly," you concluded, crossing your legs. "nowhere."

you turned back to principal oakley. "maybe someone could contact the board and ask for len—"

"y/n, this is their leniency. usually, a two-point-five is an automatic cutoff." principal oakley cut you off, his voice calm but insistent. "i wouldn’t be asking if i didn’t believe in you."

the praise softened you momentarily. "principal oakley," you began, reaching into your bag and pulling out your life planner with a flourish. its heft rattled the pens on his desk. "this is my schedule." flipping to the last pages, you tapped a line with a manicured nail. "rafe, read this."

he leaned in, eyebrows raised. "january 20th, 2056: be sworn in as the 59th president of the country."

you smiled, all proud like you'd already achieved it which you technically had since everything that belonged to you was already yours.

"now, as you can imagine, i have a very rigorous plan in place to achieving my final goal and unfortunately, my schedule is just..airtight until.." you grimaced, "atleast 2061, maybe 2065." you were still debating the second term.

rafe chuckled quietly, and you shot him a glare before principal oakley interrupted.

"i assume my recommendation letter holds a significant place in your 30-year plan."

you hesitated. "…it does."

"well, helping your fellow student would demonstrate the leadership and dedication your university looks for. i could write you a glowing recommendation and even personally contact the dean’s office if you agree to tutor mr. cameron."

you froze, your mind flashing with possibilities. the thought of the dean knowing your name—of shaving years off your plan—was too good to pass up.

"fine," you said at last, exhaling. "but i expect nothing short of perfection in that letter. and the dean better invite me for tea when you’re done."

turning to rafe, you leveled him with a sharp look. "every tuesday and sunday at four. take this seriously, or you’ll see how hostile i can get. and read the chapters beforehand. i’ll text you my address."

you strode toward the door.

"you don’t have my number!" rafe called after you, amusement clear in his voice.

"i practically live in this office, rafe!" you shot back over your shoulder. "i have everyone’s number!"

chapter index — next chap. masterlist

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predestinatos · 7 months ago

Text

hungry for life - MV1 (18+) ༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: it could've been a dream trip. if it hadn't been for the nightmare of the company. (also i didn't proofread i'm sorry)

tags: enemies to lovers, smut, lots of smut, filthy really, p in v, fingering, reader swallows, idk what to say.

word count: 5.2k

MINORS DNI!!!

Monet’s Water Lilies occupied the entire room, listening to your conversation intently.

“It isn’t that big of a deal” you friend said, whispering and pointing to the painting as if she was commenting on it.

Your gaze remained on the careful brushstrokes, head tilted as you replied, “Easy for you to say. I mean, seriously? Max?” your hand raised to a specific part of the painting that really wasn’t as impressive up close as it probably was from afar - but there was no other way to have this conversation.

“You’re in Paris, looking at a Monet, with your best friend” she continued, a hint of a smile in her tone of voice. Her amusement only frustrated you more as she walked a few steps to the right, trying to inspect another part of the mesmerizing painting.

“And my worst enemy” you rolled your eyes as you followed her. “It’s not fair. When you said it would be you, your boyfriend and a friend of his, I didn’t expect this. I was thinking more of a double date.”

She looked at you, shrugging, causing her beautiful hair to bounce with her. “It can still be” she joked, to which you could only reply by turning your back to her - and consequently, Monet himself, muttering a ‘fuck you’ to her giggling frame and to the lilies who stood motionless in the still water.

You stood, alone, in front of Sam Francis’s In Lovely Blueness. You felt unlovely blue yourself, though you knew you couldn’t let this ruin a dream trip for you. Your excitement might have died down the minute you met Max at the airport and put two and two together, but you were sure it was mutual, which did make things better. At least he wasn’t particularly amused himself, falling for the exact same trap you fell into.

As if manifested by your own thoughts, his frame appeared on the corner of your eye, big eyelashes adorning his eyes as he stared ahead, almost as if he had no intention of acknowledging you whatsoever. “This is inspired in a poem by Hölderlin. It has the same name and everything. In Lieblicher Bläue. It’s a representation of-” he started, shocking you at first but then angering you just as well.

“I am an art major. I don’t need you to explain this to me” you spat, a fake smile adorning your lips as he looked at you, your annoyance, and chuckled. It was brave of him, you had to admit - to intentionally go out of his way to annoy you by explaining something you were sure he knew you knew.

Crossing his arms across his chest, his head slightly tipped to the side, he admired how easy it was to get under your skin. He wanted to be nice, to engage in a conversation and try to achieve some type of neutral ground, but he found it impossible to do so. “Since you know so much, why don’t you guide us?”

The comment came out aggressive and petty, which wasn’t particularly intentional but he also hadn’t made any effort to hide what he felt towards you anymore. You stepped closer to him. It surprised him, how daring you were all of a sudden, but also how much you actually seemed to dislike him, to the point where this was something you did publicly, unashamedly.

“You want me to guide you?” you asked, whispering while looking up at him. You were smaller than him, his frame towering over you even unintentionally, but that factor didn’t stop you.

“Sure” he said, swallowing dryly, jaw clenching as the tension between you both rose. The red on the painting seemed to stand out even more and spread on the corner of his vision, inundating the whole painting.

“Okay” you replied, taking two steps back away from him, opening the distance between your bodies, carrying the red color with you as the painting seemed to fill with blue again. But not for long, for you walked and looked at him as if urging him to follow, which he did, curiosity winning against irritation.

After a couple of steps, you reached the end of a hallway, secluded and stripped of any painting, walls too bare, contrasting with the previous setting.

He was confused. He really didn’t know what you would do next, though this whole scenario just proved you were just as childish about your feelings as he was. “And, to your left you have the exit sign, which will take you right where you belong” you said, moving your arms like a museum guide, overly cartoon-ish on purpose, knowing it would only annoy him more.

“You’re such a child” Max said. Indignation wasn’t something he felt often, yet this time he felt it appropriate. But he was also thankful - thankful that his attempt at being nice didn’t work, for he did not have to pretend to like you for a week when he absolutely did not. “I tried, at least.”

At this, you could only gasp in surprise at his courage to make such a statement. “You tried? By mansplaining a painting? Oh, that's new!” it was almost funny how you two were whispering in shots, or shouting through whispers, the empty hallway echoing your words as if to emphasize them.

“It’s more than what you’ve done so far! I’m not the one walking around looking all bitter and bratty.”

You stood, motionless, looking at him. His green eyes fixated on yours and burned as if they were scorching red, and as much as you wanted to lash out even more at him, you figured walking away was the best solution. Once again, turning your back on someone in Paris. It had to be done.

“Oh, yeah, walk away. Good luck doing that at the hotel” Max said, the comment a nail in your coffin, a way to affirm that yes, he had won, yes he was right, and the points had been made - you were to avoid each other at all times.

You, however, stopped. His last words echoed in your head. What did he mean, the hotel? The moment you closed the door to your room and he closed the door to his, you two would be out of each other’s sight. So what did he mean by that? That he would annoy you further, being noisy, screaming, to the point where you couldn’t sleep? You were about to ask when you decided that would admit some sort of defeat - asking someone to clarify a point you hadn’t understood in an argument seemed weak, frail and ridiculous to you, so you kept walking, desperate to find your friend again.

“No,” you said when the room card was handed to you. “Fuck no” you kept going, your best friend’s hand raised towards you as she tried to contain a hint of a smile.

Now you understood Max’s comment. Now you were angrier than ever.

Why did you let your friend handle the hotel reservations? Because you trusted her good judgment. Which was bad judgment from your part, apparently, as she reserved two rooms - one for her and her boyfriend, and one for the friends they brought - you and Max.

“It has TWO beds” she tried convincing you, as Max had already gone up angrily, snatching the card swiftly without saying a word. “I wouldn’t put you two in a king sized bed. I am not crazy” she kept going.

The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.

Max prided himself on his fast insticts and reactions to any unforseen events that might come his way. It was probably one of his best traits, one he always mentioned when asked about his favorite psychological aspect of himself.

But all that was put into question as he stood motionless in the middle of the hotel bedroom, towel wrapped lowly around his waist as the air conditioning hit his bare back and he heard the door click open.

He stood in the same place as you closed the door behind you and ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled. He had those brief seconds of you unaware of his presence to hide in the bathroom and get dressed quickly, or lay underneath the covers discreetly. Anything at all.

But he had no time to make a decision as your eyes met his, panic written across his green irises.

You prided yourself on your fast insticts and reactions to any unforeseen events that might come your way. It was probably one of your best traits, one you always mentioned when asked about your favorite psychological aspect.

But all that was put into question when you opened the door to the hotel room and saw a Max's frozen frame, towel wrapped lowly - too lowly, you thought - around his waist, swallowing hard as droplets of water ran across his bare skin.

No thoughts crossed your mind before you cursed, a hard "for fuck's sake" escaping your lips from accumulated stress over the events of the past 24 hours.

This was not how you wanted your trip to go. This was not what you had planned. It wasn't just sleeping in two separate beds.

This proved it clearly.

During this time, Max's brain found the opportunity to adapt to the situation, adopting an arrogant attitude that contrasted from his initial shock.

"Come on, I'm not fucking naked" he said as he turned his back to you, heading to the bathroom.

"You are underneath that towel" you pointed out, starting to follow him before stopping yourself, realizing it was best not to do it. "I mean, you knew I was coming"

You heard him chuckle - really, he made sure you would - and his head and bare shoulder showed up from behind the open door. "Yes. Hence the towel. Otherwise I'd be naked. Which I'm not. Don't be such a child."

You could only throw a middle finger at him in response - one that he found gave him the victory, the upper hand. One that signified the discussion was over and he was right.

He grinned to himself, closing the door as he undid the towel around his waist in order to put on his underwear and a t-shirt.

Max's hand reached for the small hanger where it was placed and his fingers wrapped around nothing. He looked at the empty hanger and then at the floor, completely empty of what he needed the most in that very moment - his boxers.

"Shit. Shit. Shit Shit" he cursed, looking around for an answer. He knew his only choice was to ask you to bring them to him, but he only knew it cost him that final victory he enjoyed so much, his ego and pride mixing with each other to create a selfishness that surprised even him sometimes.

You heard your name being called out from the bathroom. At first you thought you had imagined it, like in horror movies where it seems to be coming from everywhere, but when it sounded again you knew that wasn't the case, though it was equally as terrifying.

You jumped from your bed and went over to the bathroom, ear pressed against the door in search of a sign of danger.

"...Yes?" you asked.

"Can you bring me a pair of boxers? They're in my suitcase. That is if you don't want to see me naked for four seconds while I get them myself."

You groaned loud enough for him to hear, your steps heavier than usual so he could notice your discontentment even if he couldn't see it.

Walking over to his suitcase, you opened its zipper almost carelessly, searching for a pair of underwear in the midst of the collection of same colored t shirts and same fit jeans.

Max was walking around the bathroom like a mad man, realizing how ridiculous this situation was, and how ridiculous it was that he had accepted it without asking who his company would be first. Maybe this was a lesson, yes, from the ghost of vacations future warning him about being careful who to trust, or to spread kindness, or something.

Before he could dive deeper into thoughts of madness, a knock sounded on the door. He grabbed the towel quickly to cover himself, although he did not bother wrapping it around him. He was not planning on opening the door entirely, not after the scene you caused.

As he opened, he saw an outstretched hand - yours - holding a pair of underwear. The fabric dangled in your pointer finger as if it was made of a burning material that you needed to get rid off, and fast.

He grabbed that from you, but as he was closing the door, your arm remained in place.

"I'm childish but you brought like two packs of condoms for this trip?" you said accusingly, and he could hear your smirk, as if you finally had something to hit him with.

"Don't flatter yourself, I didn't know I'd end up with you" he said as he pulled his boxers up and opened the door once again. "Is this less offensive than the towel?"

He was close - closer than you had expected - and though he hid his own surprise at seeing you at the doorframe, he couldn't deny that he didn't exactly measure the consequences of not checking where exactly you were before opening the door so fast.

His chest was close to yours, so close part of him almost felt as if you were touching, the proximity making him feel unbelievably taller than you, though he was sure the difference couldn't be that big.

You tried not to stare. Really, you were trying really hard. But he was so close to you he occupied your entire line of vision, his pale skin appearing so smooth in front of yours, contrasting with the dark color of his underwear - that you unconsciously had picked.

He towered over you, head low so he could look at you in the eyes, though the view wasn't particularly bad from up there. Your pajama top was loose - too loose - in your frame and your shorts were the very definition of the word.

"You wanting to sleep with me would be an insult" you said, moving away from the doorframe so he could pass, though he didn't move, merely crossed his arms across his chest, muscles tensing slightly at that. "And sure. It's an improvement" you continued, staring him up and down - taking his frame in but disguising the act as disdain.

Max's head leaned to the right, a smirk growing on his lips as he realized he got you for a second time. Nonchalantly, eyebrows raised, he decided to act.

"That's not what you said a year ago." There. He had you. And while before this bickering came from a place of anger and hatred, he was growing increasingly more amused at how you matched his own pace.

"Yeah, but that was before you opened your mouth" you retorted, focusing hard - too hard - on his face and not on his body, though it did not help either. His hair was messy and slightly damp from the shower, and his stubble had grown in a way you could only describe as attractive - not perfectly shaved but not entirely messy either.

He bit his lip then, mostly because he knew what to say to you after your words and was trying not to smile. Also because you had admitted to feeling attracted to him, even if only physically, which added to his confidence as he stared at you and ran his eyes down your body. "What's wrong with my mouth?"

You were dumbfounded for a few seconds, mouth opened at the ridiculousness of his comment, what it implied and the line it had crossed. "You're such a piece of shit" you said, while his grin grew to his eyes.

"You want me" he sounded so matter of factly, as if he had commented on the weather or said the sky was blue.

"I hate you."

"Never said you didn't" Max took a step forward towards you, and you found yourself unable to walk away. Something about his deviance pulled you in, and part of your brain told you you could leave, though another tried to convince you you were only staying because this was your room, after all.

"Then how could I possibly want you?" you asked, though it was more directed at yourself than at him this time.

He looked away then, as if the answer was obvious, his body moving closer to you but never touching you, both decreasing and increasing the distance between the both of you.

"You want me but I'm a piece of shit. And that's why you hate me. Because you know, deep down, you still want me to fuck you" as he said this, he moved away, almost as if the conversation had never happened, though it had, just now.

"I don't want you anywhere near me" you tried to sound assertive but part of your voice had failed by how taken aback you were, still wondering if you had imagined his words.

He stopped and turned to you once again, battling his own brain on whether or not he should push you a bit further.

"Define near" he said, as he walked closely towards you, like a predator slowly approaching its prey, defying them.

Your chest rose and fell as he moved, and you found yourself unable to tell him that that was near enough, mostly because it wasn't, not even close.

The back of your legs hit the bed - his bed - and you fell backwards, sitting on it as he moved as close as he could towards you. "Is this near for you?" he asked, though his tone had changed into something darker, raspier and more filled with lust than flirt.

You swallowed, refusing to break eye contact, aware of how you looking up at him provided a view for himself as well.

"Who wants who now, huh?" you asked teasingly, a smile spread across your lips as you noticed his body tensing up - with a bit of anger but maybe a bit of arousal too.

"Is this wanting you?" he asked back, finding your language had moved from insult to rhetoric, questions that needn't answer - not when he could see your eyes shining as they looked up at you from your eyelashes, not as he saw you crossing your legs despite your attempts at discreetness.

You shrugged at his question, not wanting to back down on your claim but also not wanting to give him the chance to refute it.

His hand cupped your face with firmness, holding your stare as he lowered himself towards you, bringing his lips close to yours, so close you felt his skin brushing against yours although he broke away before you could indulge in his initiative.

"What about this?" he asked, testing you now, though he knew the answer himself, felt it in his body as his boxers felt tight against his erection.

"I'm still unsure" you replied, and as if awaiting for that sign to keep going, Max exhaled and ran his hands through your bare thighs, pinching softly at them, causing you to hiss and giggle from his contact.

"Do I have to keep asking?" it was his time now to look up at you, something close to desperation rubbing at him as he knelt between your legs.

"Not if you admit it" you leaned to kiss him, to - admittedly - give him some kind of upper hand, though you weren't sure if you were playing anymore, not as his tongue hungrily explored your mouth, so desperate it was almost sloppy yet so warm and arousing and fulfilling.

"Fucking hell you're stubborn" he managed to let out during the brief instances where you weren't pulling his neck towards you, making sure his lips remained on yours.

His body moved on top of yours as you laid down in his bed, his hips pressing against yours as you felt his cock against you, a moan escaping your lips and a sigh leaving his at the contact.

"Is this, huh?" he asked again, mouth now moving to your neck, kissing it so lightly you shivered, only to bite you afterwards, the sensations overwhelming you with need for him.

Your body felt hot, burning intensely; and Max's body against yours only fueled that, his voice making you feel more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

You wanted him to feel like you were feeling in that moment - unaware he was already as on the edge of completely losing himself as you were. So you held his hand with yours and brought it in between your legs, allowing him to get his response.

Max had to steady himself. Really, part of his brain froze and only his body worked, mouth watering as he felt how wet you were, mind going completely foggy at the fact that you had done it, at how hot what your simple gesture had been - at how strongly he reacted to it.

His cock was so tight in his boxers it felt almost painful, especially when he knew how comfortable he could be, inside you, feeling your entire body react to him and him alone.

However, he craved to drive you mad as well, convinced you would probably lose your minds together in that hotel room. "Use your words" he said, pulling your shorts down in order to get better access to you.

His fingers teased you gently, brushing over your entrance and pulling away just as you were ready to take them. "Tell me, is this wanting you?" he insisted, his voice breathy and hoarse.

You wished you could answer, could say more than his name which came across as a whine for more of him inside you. It took all your strength to focus, on winning, on seeing him crumble before your eyes, losing his composure which was so so close to fall apart.

You bit your lip while staring at his eyes - once so bright but now so dark, so filled with something you hadn't seen in him before - and took him completely by surprise as you ran your hand across his erection through the fabric of his underwear.

Max closed his eyes and his eyebrows were now close together in an almost frown. "Fuck" were the words he let out as he dropped his head.

"Admit it" you demanded, not only because you wanted to win but because you couldn't wait any longer - you felt empty, his teasing frustrating you to no end.

Without warning, his fingers dipped inside you, filling that emptiness, even if just slightly. He moved them painfully slowly, savoring every inch of your moans as you kept your hand on his hard cock.

You could feel its length and thickness, making your mouth water at the mere thought of having it inside you. You started moving your hips against his fingers, craving more of the pleasure, more of him.

Max was just observing you at that point, how desperate you were for him, how beautiful you looked with flushed cheeks and swollen lips with barely anything being done to you yet.

"I would never admit something like that" his words contrasted so much with his thoughts, but he knew one fed the other both for you and him, this back and forth the main reason why you both felt an incessant pull towards one another.

"You're ridiculous" you managed to reply, though the words came out muffled and confusing, earning you a chuckle in response.

"You're being fucked stupid and I'm ridiculous?" he asked, grinning as he used a hand to removed his boxers, freeing his erection. You couldn't help but whimper at the sight, the sheer anticipation of what was to come, at the opportunity to having him buried inside you.

However, letting him win this easily wasn't something you were willing to do - and though your mind was cloudy and your judgment blurred, you stood on your elbows, face almost touching his. Your hand caressed his tensed arm which kept its movement inside you, and he couldn't help but look at your contact.

You tilted your head, biting your lip as you stared at his face - the desperate attempt at remaining composed, the rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, lips wet and eyes so dark they looked almost black.

"Who's stupid now?" you asked, hot breath against his neck. He could hide many things, but he couldn't control the goosebumps spreading across his entire body, he couldn't hide the way his shoulders tensed even more, how his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

This was thrilling. Maybe too thrilling, if such thing existed. He thought of the painting, of the colours spread across the canvas and somehow, in that moment, that seemed to increase every emotion he was feeling, and he had to close his eyes to control himself and steady his breath.

He had to keep it going. He knew he had to - he knew this was precisely what he wanted, to drive you insane, to keep the tension running across both of you until one exploded.

So he removed his hand from where it was - so comfortable, so hard inside you - and he could see you pout slightly before returning to your previous cold attitude. "You want me to stop, I'll stop" he said, climbing fully on top of the bed, both hands on either side of your head, hovering above you.

"I never said that" you bit back, though it was hard to focus as he started leaving trails of kisses on your neck, going down to your chest, and on your navel, biting your shirt and pulling it - removing the last layer of clothing you possessed.

"Then what do you want?" he asked, face in between your thighs, just above where you wanted him to be buried. Max's grin didn't hide the fact that he knew exactly the answer to this - but, just like you, he was stubborn, loving to hear the words escape your lips, to know that you wanted him to ruin you completely.

His hand now caressed your thigh, fingers softly moving up and down, drawing invisible nothings on your skin.

You fought against your will to just say it, although you wanted to give it up and just admit it. As if reading your thoughts, his eyes pierced yours with amusement as his cheek rested against your thigh, stubble scratching your skin pleasurably. "We don't have all night, sweetheart" he whispered.

The nickname caused your heart to race, but what came out of your mouth was a scoff, arrogance still coating your actual feelings despite the situation you were both in. "You're just as desperate as I am" you told him, lifting your right leg to caress his bag with your foot.

"Desperate for what, hm?" he asked, biting the inside of your thigh as he climbed back up, facing you.

"To fuck me" you finally replied, knowing it was less of an admition and more of a dare.

"Is that what you want me to do? To fuck you?" the question was rhetorical, almost mocking, but at that moment you didn't quite care. Not when the tip of his cock rubbed against you, not when he tried so hard to steady his breath.

You could only nod, carnal insticts getting the best out of you. That was all he needed to let himself go, to let go of all restraints previously holding him back - if there were any.

He sinked inside you slowly, as if to prolong your pain and your pleasure simultaneously, savoring your reactions - your whine of pleasure, your closed eyes and teeth biting your lip, your eyebrows furrowed. You felt and looked so good it took all of his strength to focus on being the stronger, composed person in the room - something he never struggled this hard to achieve.

He dropped his head low, his forehead against yours as he steadied himself. "Fuck" he managed to say, along with a loud exhale. "You feel so fucking good" he continued, words leaving his mouth almost impulsively.

"Then don't stop, Max" you demanded, almost aggressively, as your body ached for more of him.

He pulled himself almost fully out and slammed back inside you, harder now, making you let out a loud whine - one which you rapidly covered by placing your hands over your mouth.

He kept going, hips slamming against yours with a steady rhythm as you uhmed in pleasure, eyes teary already as they rolled to the back of your head.

He wanted to hear you. In fact, he wanted to know others could hear you, hear how good he was making you feel, hear how his cock drove you absolutely insane. With an assertive movement, his hand grabbed yours and pulled it away from your mouth, then held your cheeks tightly as he made you look at him.

"Don't cover your mouth" he ordered, hungrily, feeling you tighten around him as he said it. "Let everyone hear how well you take it" he continued, speeding up his pace and laying on top of you as you wrapped your hands around his waist, caging him.

"F-fuck, Max" you started, unable to resist much longer, feeling his hot body against yours, your hands pulling his hair as he moved almost animalistically, so focused on your sounds he could only get off to them.

"You sound so pretty" Max growled, close to exploding as well. "So fucking hot" he continued, and you had to bury your teeth in his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming - all you could let out was his name as you felt him inside you, and his hips rolled against you, unmatched amounts of pleasure running through you.

"I'm so close, Max, I'm so close" you said, not realizing how often his name was being uttered by you, how it seemed like one of the few words you had left to say.

Driven to a state of total lack of control, Max let moans escape his own lips, his animal vulnerability resulting in your own orgasm.

Feelings you tighten and pulsing around his cock was the tipping point for him, as his body shuddered, pulling himself out of you as fast as he could.

“Open your mouth” he said, gesturing at you to sit back. You did as he demanded, still drunk from your orgasm, still completely at his mercy, and he came finally, warm come filling your mouth.

The view was Max’s dream come true - your mouth wide open and filled with him, so obediently taking his orders and so beautifully contrasting with your previous attitude.

“Now swallow” he said, tapping your cheeks slightly with his hand as you closed your mouth and did as he said, the slightly salty flavour filling your tastebuds.

You laid down on his bed, exhausted and completely fulfilled, while also dizzy with the amount of emotions running through your head. You closed your eyes, but felt and heard him laying down next to you, his arm brushing yours shyly now.

“Was that close enough?” he asked.

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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 3 months ago

Text

Offering an NPD perspective on Ford Pines, because I feel the most common discussions surrounding his narcissistic traits tends to go in two ways — from what I’ve personally seen — and that’s defending him, and denying the mere possibility he may have NPD because it’s seen as a negative, or using NPD as a way to villainise him, and thus demonise NPD. Or, the alternative, this part of his character is completely overlooked.

That isn’t to say I haven’t seen some wonderful analyses on Ford and NPD, rather, I find it surprisingly lacking when his character might be some of the best representation of my own experience struggling with narcissism (alongside Bill).

I believe a lot of it stems from the misconception and stigma around NPD, and the fact Ford goes again common, typically incorrect, ideas, such as showing genuine care for other people, and accepting his failures and where he went wrong in the end, trying to repair his relationship with Stan, and realising that he doesn’t need to be recognised worldwide, as he’s found happiness with his family instead. All of these do not correlate with the media idea of a narcissist, but the fact is, narcissists are no different from any other disorder or mental health issue. We come in all different forms, and the idea we are inherently abusive or evil is such a widespread misconception that it becomes difficult getting help or support.

And that’s why I find Ford so important.

This alone, to me, describes in simple words how it feels to deal with NPD, and though you could argue Bill is projecting here, I think the point is they’re so similar, the lines blur. Both struggle with this same mentality, but Ford is able to reach out, and accept help, and Bill lets himself sink deeper and deeper into his own lies. Also, I’d argue it isn’t Bill projecting, because we sees evidence of this behaviour in Ford in the show and the journal.

He’s someone who believes himself destined for greatness, and won’t accept the bare minimum, such as when Fiddleford suggests he publish his research as is — No, he can’t have that. He has to be the one to uncover this grand theory. He has to have his name cemented amongst the greats. He believes himself to be special, different and more capable than other people, and yet he longs for the company of others all the same. He lives off of validation and praise, and strives for it, his own ego clashing against his lack of self-worth. Bill’s manipulations work on him because Ford eats up this sort of validation — it’s like one big high. It’s confirmation he is special. He is meant for greater things. He was right.

Ford notably struggles with empathy, which is likely both related to his autism, and also his narcissism. Other people simply don’t make sense to him. It takes effort for him to be able to understand people where they’re at, and he is willing to put in that effort notably, taking note of Fiddleford’s habits for example.

He also does struggle with manipulation and being deeply self-centred. A great example being Dipper’s apprenticeship. Ford is very subtly manipulating the situation here, and he doesn’t even notice, which is, in my own experience, common with NPD. He’s also unable to see Dipper and Mabel as, well, Dipper and Mabel, rather putting his own issues with Stan onto them, especially Dipper. He sees Dipper as a younger version of himself, and is trying to point him in that direction, never thinking whether it’s actually right for Dipper, or whether it’s for himself.

I could probably go on, like how he tends to have a black and white view of people, with his opinions on them easily flicking between extremes as a method of coping, or how he panics at the idea of his life’s work being destroyed, despite knowing the dangers.

Whether you agree he has NPD or not, Ford definitely has a lot of narcissistic traits, and yet, despite that, despite every mistake he’s made, everyone he’s pushed away, he gets a second chance. He gets to be loved and understood. He finds happiness. He gets to recover.

It’s very rare that characters with so many narcissistic traits get endings like that!

Ford is not a bad person because he’s a narcissist, he’s just a person, one who’s fucked up, and who’s still learning, and still healing, and that’s why he works. That’s why he’s such a comfort.

On a final note, If you are someone who’s going to argue vehemently against this idea, I kindly ask you simply scroll by!

#gravity falls #gravity falls meta #stanford pines #ford pines #Ford is simply so neurodivergent. he’s on that grind I fear.

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mayrose713 · 14 days ago

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Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 17

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Chapter 17

“Wow!” Y/n looks around in awe. “Are farmers markets always this big?”

“Jeju does a mix of a farmers market and a craft fair.” Minho smiles as he holds her hand to make sure she doesn’t leave his side. “Most of the booths are venders from the island but some do come from the mainland too, why it’s so big.”

“Make sure to stay close to us at all times, princess.” Hyunjin smiles down at her as they start to walk into the busy crowd.

“Are we sure it’s a good idea to have Hyunjin in the sun after he got sunburned at the beach the other day?” She looks up at the beta’s still red cheeks.

“I made him put sunscreen on today.” Minho reassured her.

“More like had Chan and Changbin hold me down while you applied it.” Hyunjin grumbles, crossing his arms.

“What are we looking for specifically?” The omega looks around feeling that with all the booths that are set up one of them will have whatever you are looking for.

“Right now we’re not looking for anything specific.” Hyunjin grabs her other hand. “That’s what’s great about craft fairs, you might find something you didn’t know you were needing. If something catches your eye just let us know.”

“The only thing we do need is I’m wanting to get a few things for dinner tonight but we’ll grab those things closer to being done here.” Minho says while looking around them.

“What are you planning on making?” Hyunjin looks at the alpha.

“I was thinking some bibimbap and kimchi stew.”

“God I love your kimchi stew.” He hums, already excited for dinner when it’s still late morning.

They walk around the craft fair for a while, stopping at many booths. Y/n bought a few nick-nacks for her room to personalize it to be more her with some of the cash Chan had given her. Hyunjin of course tried to buy everything she thought was remotely interesting, which she deemed wasn't necessary, but she did let him buy her a few pieces of art for her room.

As the omega and beta look at some more art pieces, Minho walks off to one of the handmade jewelry booths. He gazes over them carefully but none really catch his eye until he sees a few necklaces with pendants made into shapes out of gemstones.

“I see you’re taking interest in these beautiful crystals.” The stall’s owner walks up to him, an older alpha male. “All of these are hand shaped by me in my workshop, one of a kind you could say. There are no two pendants alike.”

“Sweetheart, the poor boy doesn’t want to hear the long process of how you make them.” An older female omega places her hand on the man's chest with a small smile before looking at Minho. “Is there a certain piece of jewelry or maybe a shape you are looking for? Or a certain gemstone?”

“Ummm, I’m just kind of browsing. Though these are beautiful.” He looks over the pendants again, thinking about how Y/n would look wearing one of these.

The boys had all discussed collaring her at some point like they did with Felix after he came out as feeling more omega like. Hundreds of years ago collaring an omega normally meant they were your property but it changed to eventually mean a representation of love. Pack members normally gift an omega a collar as a form of a promise ring now and to show other alphas that the omega has a mate, or mates, if they can’t see the claiming bites. Though collars aren’t as common these days after the disease almost wiped omega’s out. Even though many alpha’s and packs have omega’s sold to them now, collars being a representation of love has not changed.

“Are you looking for a piece of jewelry for someone specific?”

Minho hesitates before nodding. “Yeah, for one of my fated mates.” He looks up at the women before turning his head to where Hyunjin and Y/n are still browsing at another booth. “She’s our omega.”

The couple look towards the omega and beta that Minho is looking lovingly at with a smile. “She’s beautiful.”

“Have you thought of collaring her?” The male asks, making the younger turn back to them.

“We’ve discussed it but when we look at collars online none ever stick out to us as one we want to give her.”

“Well you don’t want to be giving her any of these necklaces, that’s all they are.” The man grabs a case from inside the booth and places it on the table. “We do have a special selection of collars though.”

Minho’s eyes widen when he opens the case showing many beautiful collars, the pendants all shaped differently and made of different gemstones.

“You know, crystals all have different meanings right? Almost like they have powers to help with different aspects you are needing in life.” The woman asks.

“I’ve heard of that.” He nods, even though he never really believed in the crystals being anything more than pretty rocks, he feels that Y/n might see them the same way as this omega does. “What do each one of these mean?”

“Son, they all have so many different meanings.” The male laughs. “But lucky for you my wife here always knows how to narrow down the crystal selection just by looking at the person it is meant for.”

His wife gazes at Y/n for a moment before looking at Minho with a sad smile. “She’s been through a lot hasn’t she?” He looks at her surprised. “Before she met your pack she wasn’t well loved or treated? I feel that she didn’t really come to terms with her omega representation until she met you guys huh? This is her first time experiencing a real pack dynamic.”

“How did you…?”

“I told you she’s good.” The alpha sighs, not happy with what his wife deduced from the girl.

“Based on that and the fact you guys are wanting to give the collar to her as more of a promise ring, I recommend either rose quarts or amethyst.” She points to the pendants that are blush pink, violet and purple. “Rose quartz is known as the ‘crystal of unconditional love’. It's associated with the heart chakra. A popular stone for attracting love and strengthening relationships as it can create trust, tolerance, and feelings of self-love. Amethyst is known as the stone of St. Valentine, a symbol of faithful loves. A popular choice for those seeking a soulmate, it can balance emotions and bring a sense of calm.”

As Minho listens he looks at all the pendants closely, he feels more drawn to the amethysts. Many of the pendants are shaped like hearts, animals, moons, stars and so much more. He finally sees one that's a bit hidden behind two hearts and he grabs it to see that it’s a shape of a compass rose.

“This one.” Minho feels it deep down that the others will also agree that it’s the one.

“Perfect choice.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The three walk through the farmers market area, the males already carrying a few bags of ingredients for dinner, Y/n just following along with a smile as she admires everything. She then spots a booth selling little desserts that are being made fresh on little gas stoves.

“What are those they’re making?” She stops near the booth watching as one person works a stove with a fish mold on it, and another frying what looked to be little pancakes.

“They’re making bungeoppangs and hotteoks.” Minho explains watching the girl rather than the chefs.

“Have you seriously never had them before?” Hyunjin looks at her shocked when she shakes her head no. “Man, your family really deprived you of a lot.”

“Well let's get some then.” Minho walks over to the booth and orders them each a fish shaped pastry and a small basket of the sweet pancakes.

They walk over to a small rest area with tables set up for people to sit and eat.

“Eat the hotteoks first. They’re better warm.” Hyunjins already digging into his mini pancakes as Minho watches her waiting to see her reaction to the desserts.

She takes a bite and her eyes light up. “These are amazing.” She takes another bite before she has even finished chewing the first one.

“Slow down, kitten.” Minho warns as he now eats his. “Don’t want you to choke.”

She blushes and slows down, eating the rest of the pancakes before moving on to the fish shaped pastry. She takes a bite but doesn’t have the same reaction to it as she did the hotteok.

“It’s good, but I like the hotteoks better.”

“I figured you would.” Hyunjin nods with a smile watching her eat the bungeoppang.

“I’ll make you some homemade hotteoks whenever you want.” Minho smiles.

______________________________________________________________

Taglist is closed for a bit as I am unable to tag anymore right now

Tag list: @pixie0627 @sinfulfic @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl @blindspot143 @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55 @hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound @galaxy4489 @kayleefriedchicken @lostgirlinthewoodss @catkight @royal-shinigami @notevenheretbh1 @passionandsuga @m00njinnie @sukss @n1nme4r @blueberrydish @xxeiraxx @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @aalexyuuuhm @kaleigh-2002 @btskzfav @hyunmikim @ot8girlfie @sillygoosegoose @tr0p1cal @eastjonowhere @hime-honne @furfoxsake22 @luvlino23 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @im-sinking-in-mud @fiest4plum @forevermoremagcon @comicnerd557 @nchhuhi @alyxcatspost @danceonmyheyday @maisyyyyyy @shycreationdreamland @chanshugsaretherapy

@violet-hatake @idkwhoisthis1971 @mo0n13 @yumuramma @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @pineapplekitty3-16 @straykidslover2024

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haikyu-mp4 · 9 months ago

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Lucky misunderstanding

word count; 974 – gn!reader I think

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

Having seen how strategic and tactical Seijoh are on the court, you thought the photoshoot would go by pretty quickly and smoothly. You didn’t account for Yahaba and Kuotani being this difficult. They were egging each other on and making it hard for you to get any shots where they weren’t wearing angry frowns.

That’s why you at least hoped the third years would be easier. Calm, confident and collected.

Well.. they sure were confident. At least you were laughing, watching how they played around and criticised each others’ poses. Iwaizumi seemed to keep his distance, though, only coming out of his shell to throw some comments at Oikawa.

He went last, straightening out his uniform and standing in the spot you wanted him to. “Let’s get this over with.”

You shrugged and held up the camera, but put it down again. He was just staring sternly at the lens. “Could you give me some confidence?” you asked. “Where’s the smug guy that beats everyone in arm wrestling?”

The effect is instant and the other guys are thrilled to spot Iwa’s red ears. “Yea, Iwa! Where are the muscles?” Makki cooed and giggled. You looked away from the boy and down at your hands for a second. Is he mocking you? “Just think of how y/n is staring at you through the lens.” he continued teasing before Mattsun roughly patted his shoulder to make him stop, even though he was chuckling too.

Do they know about your crush? Did you bust yourself with that comment? Have they heard a rumour? How embarrassing! That’s the worry that swirled in your head as you cleared your throat and looked shyly at Iwaizumi. The ace himself nearly growled, pushing his sleeves up and walking towards his friends with a threatening “you three better run” slipping between his teeth.

The boys all took his advice and ran out, clearly terrified of the muscly ace as he started running at them until they were all out of the room. He took in a deep breath and turned back, glancing between you and the floor as he stood in front of you again.

“I’m sorry-“

“I’m sorry.” The two of you said at the same time, making both of you lift your gazes to meet each other’s in surprise.

“Why are you sorry? They were being stupid,” he mumbled with a weak chuckle as if trying to brush it off. You cleared your throat again, looking away and down at the camera.

“You probably just want to get this over with, I didn’t think they would make you uncomfortable,” you rambled, not sure if you should address your crush or leave it unspoken and let the poor boy escape you.

“I’m not! They just know I get… flustered… around you,” he admitted hesitantly, finally meeting your eyes again and tucking his hands in his pockets.

Thinking back, Oikawa had mumbled something about Iwa-chan loving this when you asked him if he approved your project. Your path didn’t cross with Iwaizumi’s that often at school, but when it did you would always stop for a short chat and it would fill you with happy energy for the rest of the day. That’s how you developed your crush, which might have created some inspiration for this project as well.

You were surprised and trying to sort out your thoughts as your mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Let’s just get this over with, forget what I said,” he said, already regretting his little confession when you didn’t respond.

“I thought they were teasing me for my crush on you.” You chuckled under your breath before lifting the camera. All you saw was a very surprised Iwaizumi.

“Huh?”

“Makki kept commenting on how I was looking at you and your freaking muscles and I just thought they must be teasing me for it.” you rambled again, looking away and cursing mentally at how you were never finishing the photoshoot at this rate.

“They were teasing because I like you,” he said, letting the whole sentence out in one breath. You only caught every word because you were desperately listening to him.

“Really?” was all you managed to say, even chuckling a bit at the misunderstanding.

He chuckled too, rubbing his face with both hands before glancing at you to see your reaction. “Really.”

“Then I think you should let me finish my project and take me out on a date later,” you declared, biting the inside of your lip in anticipation.

He straightened up and gave you a determined look. “I like the way you think.”

So you did finish taking the photos, maybe even sneaking in a shy little first kiss before he had to go back to practice. He told you to wait for him after practice and you both parted ways with rosy cheeks.

Maybe just this once he should thank Makki for being so insufferable.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi fluff #oikawa tooru #aoba johsai #oikawa

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burst-of-iridescent · 11 months ago

Text

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 1)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

it's well-known that atla draws from indigenous, east and southeast asian influences, but something i rarely see discussed in the fandom is the influences the show takes from hinduism and south asia, and there are actually far more than i think people are aware of.

so here's a (non-exhaustive list) of the main inspirations atla drew from south asian culture and hinduism, starting with...

The Avatar

the title of the show itself is taken from the ancient language of sanskrit, often considered the sacred tongue of the hindu religion. in sanskrit, the word "avatar" means to "descend" or "alight".

the concept of the avatar is a very old one, referring to the physical incarnation of a powerful deity or spirit. the idea of the avatar is most often linked to the god Vishnu, one of three supreme hindu gods collectively called the trimurti, or trinity. the avatar is said to manifest upon earth primarily in times of great need, when balance must be maintained between the forces of good and evil.

atla borrows heavily from this idea in having aang be the incarnation of a divine spirit who returns to the world during a time of immense strife, and is tasked with defeating a great evil to bring balance back to the world. and though i don't know if it was an intentional reference, it's interesting to note that Krishna, the most famous incarnation of Vishnu was also reborn amidst a fierce storm and carried through a raging sea to a new home where he would be protected from the king who sought to kill him. sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Agni Kai and the Philosophy of Firebending

the word "agni" derives from the sanskrit name Agni, the god of fire, though it can also generally mean "fire".

the concepts of lightning bending and the sun being the source of firebending are likely also taken from the idea of Agni, since he's said to exist simultaneously in three different forms on three different dimensions: as fire on earth, as lightning in the atmosphere, and as the sun in the sky.

Agni is a significant aspect of many rituals, including marriage rites, death rites, and the festivals of holi and diwali. the concept of Agni is one of duality: life and death, rebirth and destruction. hindu rituals accept and celebrate both aspects, revolving around the idea that destruction is not separate from creation, but rather necessary to facilitate it. the cremation of the dead, for instance, is seen as purification, not destruction: burning away the physical form so the soul is unencumbered, set free to continue the reincarnation cycle.

this influence can be seen in the firebending masters episode, which discusses the idea of fire being vital to life. the sun warriors safeguarding the original fire and demanding that zuko and aang bring fire to the dragons as a sacrifice could also reference the ritual of Agnihotra - the ritual of keeping a fire at the home hearth and making offerings to it. the purpose of this ritual differs depending on which text you refer to, but it is generally believed to purify the person and atmosphere in which it is performed, similar to how zuko and aang must make offerings to ran and shaw and survive their fire before being deemed worthy and pure.

Agnihotra is said to serve as a symbolic reminder of the vitality and importance of fire as the driving force of life, a lesson that zuko and aang also internalize from their encounter with the dragons.

Bumi

bumi's name is taken from the sanskrit word "bhumi", which means "earth". it's also the name of the hindu goddess of the earth, bumi or bhudevi.

one of the things the original animation didn't do and which i really enjoyed about the live action was that they made bumi indian and added desi inspiration to omashu. it makes perfect sense for a king whose name is as hindu-inspired as they come.

NWT Royal Palace

chief arnook's palace in the northern water tribe takes inspiration from the gopurams of hindu temples, massive pyramidal structures that served as entrance towers to the temple.

gopurams were built tall enough to be seen for miles around, beacons to signal tired or weary travellers who wished for a place to rest that a temple was nearby. it's a nice touch that the chief's palace is located in front of the spirit oasis, a similarly symbolic entryway to a sanctuary housing otherworldly deities.

Betrothal Necklaces

to preface: i doubt this was an intentional reference, and this great post talks about other cultures that could have inspired the water tribe betrothal necklaces. given the desi influence in the nwt architecture however, i figured it was worth mentioning.

the idea of betrothal necklaces being given to women by their male partners is similar to the thaali, a necklace given to hindu wives by their husbands. during hindu weddings, grooms tie the thaali around their brides' necks to symbolize their marriage. once given, wives are expected to wear their thaali till the day they die, as doing so is believed to bring good luck, health and prosperity to their husbands.

Chi-Blocking

though chi-blocking takes primary inspiration from the art of Dim Mak, it is also influenced by the south indian martial arts forms of adimurai and kalaripayattu, both of which include techniques of striking vital points in the body to disable or kill an opponent.

kalaripayattu also shares parallels with firebending, being a very physically demanding, aggressive martial art that emphasises the importance of discipline and mental fortitude. control of the mind is essential to control of the body, a philosophy similar to that espoused by iroh across the show.

Wan Shi Tong's Library

the library draws inspiration partly from the taj mahal, the famous mausoleum constructed by shah jahan during the mughal empire as a monument to his beloved wife, mumtaz mahal.

i'll end this post here since it's getting too long as it is, and the following section will be even longer. for while atla treated the concepts in this post with respect, the same unfortunately cannot be said for its depiction of guru pathik and combustion man - both of which we'll be discussing next.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla cultural influences #hinduism in atla

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bananielle · 5 months ago

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love and suds ♡ 🫧

₊˚.⋆⁺₊ leehan x reader ୨ৎ genres: hurt x comfort. fluff.

5.7k words. cw: lowercase intended. not super proofread. reader wears a bra. negative self talk. crying. dark thoughts. kissing. bathing. if there’s anything else, please let me know! <3 @onedoornet

authors note: blew the dust off this cause i think the longer i wait the more i will want to never ever post it and this was really something i wanted to share. i wrote this a couple months ago to comfort myself when i was really struggling. i went back and took out the very dark stuff cause i felt it messed up the plot and other things and anyways! this isn’t my best writing at all but i hope it can bring even a teensy bit of comfort to anyone who might feel the way reader does. i hope it’s good enough. happy reading baby loves ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა p.s if you’re in a dark place i promise brighter days are written in the stars for u & plz remember u don’t need to be spectacular or do amazing things to be worthy of love & ur wonderful just as u are & u will be okay ♡

you wrestle with the lock of your apartment door, jamming and twisting the key around impatiently, huffing at the lack of compromise it’s giving you. all you’ve wanted to do since you left your safe haven was come right back, curl up in bed and sob into your pillow; life being too much for you to carry on your shoulders lately.

everything was difficult and stressful, and your body was barely standing upright. today was your final straw. any more stress, and you’d crumble into pieces.

on your way home, you had looked up at the soft wash of pink and orange that was the sky, asking the universe for some kind of break. anything to ease the constant pain you felt.

you hoped and prayed it would take kindly to your wishes, but as you’re standing here now, fighting to get into your warm home, it seems the universe ignored you. so much for asking you for any favours, you think to yourself bitterly. the thinned string of patience inside you threatens to snap as you ram the key into the lock hole for the sixth time, its stubborn self still refusing to give in.

you take out the key, then put it back in, turn it as far left as it’ll go, and grab the door handle. you push down on it, and with all the strength you can muster, you bump your shoulder against the door, and suddenly, you’re home at last.

you quickly shut and lock the door behind you, then kick off your shoes and switch on the main light. it’s quiet inside, despite it being the evening, only the low hum of the air conditioner floating through the place. you had thought your boyfriend would be home at this hour, as he usually is, but perhaps he had to stay longer at his schedules tonight.

the thought weighs down on your shoulders, tears itching to escape and stream down your cheeks. a dark, heavy feeling settles in your chest. all you’ve wanted after such a long day was to see him. to collapse into his arms and feel his sturdy body against yours. and even if you did end up sobbing into your pillow the entire night, at least leehan would be there for you, laying beside you, rubbing your back and soothing you with his sweet voice, telling you that everything would be alright.

yn: 0, universe: 2 trillion, you think.

you’re too tired to feel hungry, and too tired to cook, so you decide to skip dinner. you switch off the main light, walking softly through the kitchen to your bedroom. it’s cold and damp inside, a fitting representation of your feelings. you don’t even have the energy to feel bothered by it. instead, you let yourself feel the goosebumps raise on your arms and the unpleasant chill caress your bare skin.

you weakly climb onto the bed, forgetting to turn the lights on and not bothering to snuggle up under the covers. you lay there on your side, in your cold, dark room, with your knees tucked into your chest.

for a while, your mind thinks nothing.

until, you begin to think about all that’s wrong. a familiar feeling awakens in your veins. or maybe it’s your bones. whichever is deeper, more hurtful, it awakens there and gnaws at you.

the thoughts wash through like a tide, cruel and relentless.

you let out a sob and squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, screaming at the voice inside of you to leave you alone. your breaths come in short and panicked, and you scramble your mind to find something to tether yourself to, something to ground you and make you feel real again.

a moment passes, and then, you see his face.

you see his pretty smile and the even prettier dimples adorning it, a little part of you wishing you could live inside of them; safe and stored away from the hideous world. his soft eyes, all sparkling and starry appear and you try to remember how they look at you so lovingly. you see his hands tangled in yours, warm and safe and sturdy. you remember, as hard as you can, how they felt and you hold that feeling close to your heart, hoping it would soothe its rapid beats.

leehan. leehan. leehan. you repeat like a prayer. your body relaxes.

your breaths start to slow and you finally gulp in deeper breaths. but the relief doesn’t last for long, when you realise the pictures of your boyfriend in your mind are just that. pictures. he is not here.

a frustrated burn settles in the back of your eyes, and you feel wet lines travel down your temples. your body shakes with every cry that escapes you, a puddle of wet forming on the covers. you sob for a while, until your head turns heavy and your eyes can barely stay open.

please come home, leehan. i need you.

you wish again to the universe, pleading it to do you a kindness and bring comfort to you, just this once. you hug yourself tightly while hoping for your boyfriend to come home, sniffling every now and then as your cries come to quiet. several minutes pass of you in the dark, cold and heartbroken, a heaviness stuck in the air.

sleep nearly comes to your aid, but it’s not quick enough. you’re still awake to hear the distant, muffled sound of a key turning, and then clink of the front door unlocking.

your heart soars in your chest. you sleepily wonder if it’s a dream, staying ever so still as you strain your ears for more sound.

“yn? are you home, angel?” a weak sob escapes your lips at the comforting sound of leehan’s voice. you don’t know whether to smile or continue crying, so you do a strange combination of both.

“in here”, you reply. but your voice isn’t loud enough. it’s raspy and weak, the words scraping your throat like glass as you spoke them.

you wait a few heartbeats longer, hopeful and excited, watching the door, wondering if leehan was coming to find you.

soon enough, just as you wished, leehan finds you.

he shuffles into the pitch-dark room, turning on the light to see better. the moment he spots you, he nearly crumbles. a look of concern contort his features as walks towards your limp body and softly asks, “baby? wha- what’s wrong? are you okay? how long have you been like this?” his words spill out rushed, each one carrying more weight than the last.

he lowers himself onto the bed, adjusting himself so he’s sitting next to you, and reaches out an urgent hand out to brush away pieces of hair that stuck to your tear-stained face. “oh, baby”, he coos, stroking your hair gently. “talk to me”

you look up at him through glassy eyes, and you break out into more sobs when you see how he gazes at you. so much concern and compassion glimmer in his eyes, it tugs at your heartstrings. his sweet words pick apart every tense nerve in your body.

you hide your face in your hands as you cry, your breaths coming in so short and quick, they cut off every word you try to speak.

“shh, baby. i’m here.” leehan comforts, as he leans down to place a kiss to your shoulder as one of his hands massages your back, up and down, soothingly.

after a few more sobs and shh’s from leehan, you find a moment to take deep breaths and wipe your eyes. your limbs fight against you after being stuck in the same position for so long as you adjust yourself to sit up. you avoid his laser gaze, knowing that if you looked into his eyes, you fear the tears would never end.

once you’ve sat up, you cross your legs and take in a shaky breath. the hand that leehan dragged up and down your back, now rests on your thigh. his other one finds the small of your back and stays there.

you breath out deeply before speaking.

“i’m just so tired, leehan.” your voice cracks and scratches but you don’t care enough to clear your throat.

“i had such an awful day. i’ve been having awful days. and my head hurts so much. and my heart won’t stop beating like crazy. i feel it every second of the day and it scares me so much. everything is too much for me. i’m lost and confused and just. tired. ”, more tears stream down your cheeks, and you need to take in another deep breath before continuing. your hand finds leehans’ on your thigh and holds it tight for comfort.

a weighted silence drifts upon the air. slowly, you look up from the random spot on the covers you’ve been trained on and meet leehan’s eyes.

tears glisten at the edges of them, the look of concern vanished, replaced by utter sadness. his eyes trace every feature of your face, as if to find the answer to his question.

“oh, my love” he says, his voice hushed, nearly falling into a whisper. “why didn’t you tell me sooner? to know that you’ve been carrying this weight on your shoulders all by yourself, it breaks my heart. you know that’s why i’m here right? to help you carry the heavy things”

“i-i know, leehan” you look down at your intertwined hands. “i don’t know why i didn’t, i’m sorry. i think i just, i didn’t want to burden you. i thought i could figure it out myself. make it go away on my own”, you shrug, not even realising how you’d kept your feelings a secret, subconsciously hiding them under a smile.

leehan suddenly cups your face in his hands, his eyes serious but his tone gentle. “you never have to be on your own. not as long as i’m here”, he sniffles as his eyes water more. your heart splinters at the sight.

“please listen to me, baby. look at me” he makes sure he’s locked his gaze into yours when he says, “i am always here for you. always. i want to hear what you have to say. everything. don’t ever think you can’t come to me. you don’t have to be alone, i promise.”

leehan kisses your forehead, so softly and sweetly, it prompts your body to shudder. your entire being is overcome by the love it holds for him.

thank you, universe.

“thank you” you say quietly, giving him the biggest smile you can muster. both your hands cover his own, your thumbs rubbing the backs of them lightly. “i love you. i promise to come to you. promise i’ll tell you things.”

a slow smile spreads across his face, and he plants another kiss to your forehead, this time, lingering on the spot. he pulls away and tucks your hair behind your ears.

“let me take care of you, okay? i’ll run you a bath, get you all cleaned up and relaxed. how does that sound, baby?”, he asks eagerly.

your words seemed to have run away at leehan’s compassion, so all you do is nod your head tiredly, giving him a soft smile.

leehan enters the bathroom with you in his arms, stopping to turn on the light before setting you down on the fluffy rug in the middle of the floor. it feels plush and warm against your socked feet, a comforting change compared to the cool draft in the bedroom. you press yourself further into it, really making sure you’re standing firmly on the ground, planted and unmoving.

he glides over to the bath, twisting the knob to the right so the dial lands right where it’s nearly too hot, just how you like it. the rush of water fills the room, the strong current of the faucet beating against the plastic tub, and again you feel comforted, no longer trapped in your thoughts when pleasant distractions feed all your senses. your eyes study leehan as he feels the water with his fingers, adjusting the dial a few times before turning back to you.

without saying a word, he scoops you into his embrace once more, bringing you to the sink and sitting you down on the edge of the counter. he kisses your cheek tenderly before opening a mirrored cabinet to sift through and bringing out your entire skincare routine, lining up each bottle in their respective order. a bright, warm glow begins to fill your chest.

he bends down to open up a cupboard, and remerges with a small towel in his hand, then turns on the sink, checking to see if the water is lukewarm. he wets the towel, rings it, then repeats the action. after a few more soaks and rings, he places himself between your legs, then gently presses the towel to your face.

“close your eyes for me, pretty” he instructs quietly, his voice low and smooth.

leehan works in a methodical rhythm until every inch of your skin is made damp. his touches are so gentle and filled with love, you feel light-headed. you wonder in awe at how lucky you got with him. that such loving, gentle boy is all yours. a tiny, secret smile pulls the corners of your mouth.

“does that feel good, baby?” he purrs, taking notice of your not-so-secret smile.

“mm-hm, more than good” you respond, looking up at him softly. he smiles back at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight.

leehan moves carefully as he applies your face wash, rubbing circles on your face firmly but gingerly, then taking the same wet towel to rinse it off. he works in silence whilst massaging every one of your serums and moisturisers into your face, as he’s seen you apply them yourself a million times, slowly and thoughtfully in an effort to relax you. the cold sensation of the creams and his sturdy fingers send shivers down your spine.

“there we go. all done”. leehan strokes his thumbs over your cheeks one last time, then leans in to kiss your lips. it’s short and sweet, his lips soft and warm.

the sound of the rushing water must have become white noise to you both, because when you turn your attention to the tub, it’s nearly filled to the brim. leehan goes to shut off the faucet, but not before adding in your favourite soap, swirling the steaming water around with his hand, making a clean, bubbly scent waft through the air. it’s familiar to you, a reassuring sense that helps you attach yourself to the present moment. you’re here and you’re okay, you soothe to yourself.

he walks back to you, hooking a strong arm around your back and placing the other under your knees, lifting you off the counter and placing you back on the fluffy rug.

“let’s take these icky clothes off of you. arms up.” he says quietly, his honey voice nearly humming the words.

you obey, reaching your arms up in the air, letting him put his hands under your shirt and gently lift it up and over your head. he’s seen you in your bra plenty of times before, but somehow, the intimacy of this moment makes you shy away and cover up.

“hey…” he looks down at you, a slight twinkle in his eye. he gently pulls your arms away from your chest. “it’s just me, baby”

“i know…” you respond shyly… “i just…” you trail off, looking down at your feet.

“don’t worry, love. i can leave to let you undress. just let me know when you’re done.” he goes to leave, but you stop him quickly, grabbing his hand.

“no! no, please stay. i’m just a little overwhelmed…with love, i think. that’s all”, you say to the floor quietly.

all leehan does is gaze at you fondly, the tiniest giggling leaving his mouth. “okay. i’ll be gentle with you, i promise” he reassures as he reaches his hands out to unclasp your bra.

they’re warm and sturdy, like they always are. the way his fingertips brush against your exposed skin so delicately gives you goosebumps. you didn’t know how it was possible to miss him so much, despite seeing him only this morning, and having him in front of you now, but here you are, longing for him so deeply.

he undoes the clasp, then hooks his fingers through the straps, gently gliding it down your arms. once it’s off, he gathers it nicely and places it in on the sink, along with your shirt.

his hands continue to brush down your arms, the grazing of his finger tips like a ghost against your skin. he never lets go of your gaze as he kisses down your stomach. you gasp lightly at the way his lips travel down your body so lovingly, as if he was made just to worship you.

he stops just before the button of your pants, then carefully undoes them, easing the piece of clothing down your legs slowly. you lift each foot out of the holes.

leehan grabs the back of your calf, lifting it slightly to press a soft kiss to your shin, then takes off your sock. he does the same to your other leg, then folds up your jeans and sets them down near your folded shirt and bra.

his eyes never leave yours as he runs his fingertips along your collarbone, the soft pads finding your shoulders to rest there. “my beautiful baby,” he coos. “let’s get you washed up.”

leehan rolls up his long sleeve shirt, cuffing it at the elbows, then as tenderly as he can, he scoops you up and walks you over to the tub. his eyes never leave your face as he lowers you into the hot, bubbly water, careful not to hurt you.

“how’s the temperature? is it warm enough?”

“it’s perfect, leehan” you say, because it was. everything about this moment was perfect.

“good”, he smiles softly. “i’ll be right back, okay?” and then he quietly leaves the bathroom. you rest your back against the side of the tub, leaning your head back on the side. the water is so warm, it feels like it reaches your bones. it melts away your worries like butter, until every evil word you had thought to yourself becomes smudged and muddled, a distant memory.

you play with the bubbles, scooping up a handful, then blowing it into the air, watching as the sparkly, white clouds float every which way. your heart finally begins to slow down, resuming a normal pace. you’re warm and cradled and safe, all thanks to leehan. you could nearly cry again at his loving actions. how incredibly lucky you were to have him.

your love returns a few minutes later with a rolled up towel, walking into the separate shower to grab your wash cloth and body wash, then kneels near the tub behind you. he lifts up your head slightly, then pushes the towel underneath as a little makeshift pillow.

you study his upside down face carefully. his cheeks are slightly blushed from the heat of the bath, and the front pieces of his hair are curling slightly from it, too. there’s something so sweet in his eyes — you can’t quite explain it. but it makes you glow on the inside.

leehan. leehan. leehan. my leehan.

he beams down at you, stroking your head. “do you need to wash your hair tonight?” he asks, searching your eyes.

you simply shake your head no, too relaxed and soothed to speak. he nods, then takes the wash cloth and dips it in the tub.

he squirts your favourite body wash on it, then begins to rub it in your skin soothingly. the pressure of his strong hands, the warmth of the water, and the slight tingle of the texture of the cloth against your skin overwhelms you with relaxation.

with each gentle rub, your pain washes away, lost to the mountains of bubbles. your mind goes blank, but not unpleasantly. it’s quiet, but not uncomfortable. at peace, in a way.

for a long time, leehan tends to you. his forearms are soaked, covered in tiny white bubbles, some even reaching up his cuffed sleeve. he holds every part of you so tenderly, as if you were the most precious being he’ll ever know. he’s careful to wash off any excess icky-ness of the day, humming lowly as he does.

his fingers begin to prune, as do yours, and the bubbles begin to subside. he cups his hands in the water and uses it to wash off any leftover soap still stuck to your skin. you’ve passed the state of relaxation now, completely lost in bliss from leehan’s caresses.

as you hug your knees to your chest, he tells you to lift your head up off the little towel. two strong hands grip your shoulders, massaging them lazily. his hands rub the tense muscles for a few minutes, sending tingling sensations down your spine.

“love you so much, darling. so so much” he purrs into your ear softly before letting his warm lips trail down your neck. he reaches one hand across your face to cup your cheek, turning your head ever so slightly. his fingers slide to rest under your chin, and he slowly lifts your head up so you’re looking right in his eyes.

“you’re everything to me, yn. everything” he says, then presses his mouth to yours softly. he deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. you let him in, allowing your tongue to tangle with his. he lingers in your mouth for a while, languidly tasting you over and over again. he finally breaks away, his cheeks slightly flushed.

your own cheeks are blushed as well, your breath stuck in your throat slightly, in awe of the kiss.

leehan uses his thumbs to guide your eyelids closed to press feather-light kisses to each one, then he wanders all over your face, not letting any inch of skin go un-kissed. one last time, his lips finds yours again.

you look up at him sleepily, so relaxed and soothed, you could fall asleep right there. the harsh cold and sadness of before long gone. he notices your sleepiness.

“ready for bed, my love?”

“mm-hmm” you hum in response, your lids fluttering closed as you let him scoop you out of the tub and stand you up carefully. he quickly gets your robe off of its hook, then wraps it around your body, guiding each of your arms through the sleeves. he snugs it around you as tight as possible before tying the strap around your waist. he goes to empty the tub, the water beginning to drain with a large gurgle.

leehan turns you around by the shoulders, guiding you to the closet so you can get dressed in your pyjamas. you stand in the middle of the closet, studying your boyfriend as he contently sifts through your drawers, trying to find your comfiest set of pyjamas.

“ah—these ones! these are so cute, baby. and they’re nice and warm. what do you think, hm?” he turns to look at you with sparkling eyes, a hint of playfulness in them.

“yeah, those will work leehan” you let out a breathy laugh, completely amused by the fact that leehan thought these pyjamas are cute, all pink and adorned with hearts.

he goes to unwrap your robe and delicately slide it off of you, letting it pool at your feet. the sudden cold air makes you cover yourself, prompting leehan to coo and hastily bring your pyjama top over your head.

“here, baby”, he says softly. the warm fabric gives you immediate relief, eliciting a sigh out of you. he bends down to put on the fluffy pants, gently holding your the back of your calves as he does so. you help him bring them up all the way, to which leehan lifts your top slightly to plant a sneaky kiss to your stomach.

“hey!” you giggle. “that tickles”

he smiles up at you sweetly, his fluffy brown hair covering his pretty eyes. “oh!” he perks up suddenly. “i forgot your socks!” he exclaims, jumping to his feet to go through your sock drawer. he grabs the warmest, fluffiest pair he can find.

once he’s put them on your feet, he wastes no time in scooping you up in his arms for the nth time that night. he walks you to the bed, switching off the bathroom light on his way out. even though it’s a brief walk, you snuggle up to him close, your head finding the crook of his neck to rest in. you place a soft kiss to the area of skin, then another, and another, until you’ve placed as many as you can before he sets you down gently.

he adjusts the covers so you can cuddle up underneath them, and you slide your body under them and snuggle up as much as possible, making yourself cozy.

leehan pulls the covers up to your chin, tucking in the rest around around body, making sure you’re as warm as can be. he sits down next to you, taking your hands in his. after a moment, he speaks.

“you should eat something warm. how about some soup?” he asks.

“that sounds lovely”, you say quietly, “thank you, leehanie. for…for everything”, squeezing his hand to punctuate the words.

“it’s what i’m here for, darling.” he stands, then gives you a quick peck on your forehead, then leaves as he says “i’ll be back soon”

my leehan. you think as you watch him go. your eyes stay trained on the door way, your ears listening to the soft chinks of the dishes and the quiet closing of cupboards, and the occasional crinkle of a packet.

you wait patiently for your love. thanking the stars a million times over for him. how lucky you were for them to align just so, allowing you to be together.

just a couple hours ago, you were laying in this same spot, curled up into a sad, miserable ball, sobbing at how cruel your mind and the world was. you had wanted nothing more than the bed to swallow you whole.

but then, he came home to you. and here you are now, underneath toasty covers, and you felt alright. you were comforted and relaxed, but most importantly, you were loved.

you lay in silence for a few long minutes, the occasional drip of the faucet hitting the bottom of the tub floating through the room. you trace random shapes with your eyes on the ceiling. just as your finishing tracing a heart, leehan walks in with a warm bowl of soup, soft swirls of steaming from it into the air.

“it’s still a little hot but it shouldn’t take long to cool down” he says, placing the bowl on the nightstand next to you. he gives it a few stirs with the spoon, then turns his attention back to you. he smiles softly as he sits down next to you, fiddling the with warm duvet to snuggle you up more.

he takes the bowl of comfort food in his hands with the towel. “open up” leehan lifts the spoon to your lips, then slowly tips it so you can swallow the warm liquid.

“is it good?” he asks hopefully.

“mm-hmm, it’s lovely. feels good to eat something warm” you respond sleepily, opening your mouth again as another spoonful comes towards you.

leehan feeds you lovingly in the perfect, comfortable quiet that envelopes you two. he makes sure you’ve eaten it all, until the bowl is just barely streaked with soup. when the spoon stops being useful, he brings the bowl to your lips and holds the back of your head gently as you drink up the rest.

“i’ll go wash up the dishes. it’s not much, but if you feel like you need to sleep, don’t wait up for me, okay? rest. i love you, baby”. he kisses off an excess spot of soup at the corner of your mouth, then presses his lips to your forehead.

“i love you” you tell him softly.

you watch him go with heavy eyelids and a warm, full belly.

you don’t fall asleep just yet, even though you feel sleep tugging at your brain and body. you nearly drift off, but jerk yourself awake. you wanted to wait for leehan.

he was so wonderful to you today, so caring and compassionate. your heart squeezes as your mind recounts the details of the night. every little moment of leehan caring for you making a content smile tug at your lips.

by the time he comes back into the room, your eyes are barely able to stay open.

“you’re still awake? you didn’t have to wait for me, yn.” he offers you a sweet smile as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes.

“i know, i wanted to though. i want some cuddles” you say gently.

“you’re gonna get lots of cuddles, i promise.” you feel leehan’s weight dip the bed as he climbs in next to you.

before he can say anything else, you decide to speak. “i’m sorry, leehan. i was such a mess today”, you say quietly, fiddling with the top of the covers.

“baby, wha-what?”, a sudden look of concern paints his face, his eyebrows quirking up in confusion.

his eyes look at you sadly. “what do you have to be sorry for?” he breathes out, his hand cupping your cheek softly, his thumb making soothing strokes.

“i-i just…” your words get caught in your throat, and you feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes. a sob threatens to leave you, so you take a deep breath before speaking again.

“i just dumped so much on you, you know? out of nowhere. you came home and there i was, a complete sobbing mess. just dumping so much of emotions onto you, with no warning. i didn’t even ask you about your day. i’m sorry you had to see me that way…i’m such a burden”. the well-known dark feeling enters your chest again, the rampant monster in your mind waiting to pounce.

“oh, angel” he sighs. leehan takes his hand off your cheek to grab one of yours, holding it so tightly, you wonder if he thinks you’ll slip away if he let go.

he brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

he studies you earnestly. “don’t ever be sorry for being open with me. you’re not a bother. you’re the furthest thing from it. it’s okay if you were a mess. i’m a mess sometimes. and when i am, you’re always there to care for me. why wouldn’t i do the same for you?” he pauses briefly, as if to make sure he doesn’t cry.

“it breaks my heart to know you feel the way you do, yn. you deserve the whole world” his voice cracks slightly at the end. leehan says the words with so much fervor and love, you want to believe him, so badly, but your mind continues to build blocks. you hate yourself for it, and he sees it written on your face.

“please hear me when i say this, my love” he squeezes your hand tight, bringing it to his heart. “i promise you’re good enough. i know you feel small sometimes. but please believe me when i say you are good enough. you work so so hard, and you’re so talented. i see how much you sacrifice to do well. you’re kind and thoughtful and smart. and really, really gorgeous…” he trails off, letting out a breathy laugh. his eyes begin to twinkle.

“you still make my heart race, y’know that? every time i look at you, it goes crazy. just for you and only you…i know i’m not the best with words, but, i really do love you. and you mean everything to me. i don’t need or want you to be perfect or put-together all the time. i want to see all the parts to you. don’t be sorry for your feelings, please. and don’t be afraid to come to me, alright? nothing about you is ever too much for me, angel. there’s no such thing.”

you quite literally feel like you could burst into a million pieces at that very moment. no one has or will ever make you feel as loved as leehan. the world would have to end before you even tried to figure that out. you really try to hear him, try to cement the words into your heart, to will away the dark thoughts. they might not disappear entirely, but you had leehan. your sweet leehan, who would never let you go through it alone.

a few tears have made their way down your cheeks again, and his. he places your hand down gently, then leans down to kiss away your tears. he takes his time, slowly licking up the salty trails. he cups your face, stroking your reddened cheeks soothingly. he kisses every part of your face until there’s no part of skin that hasn’t been touched.

you take his face in your hands, brushing away stray pieces of hair from his eyes. “my leehan”, you dote, “i love you so much. what would i do without you?”

he brings his lips to yours, softly at first. the kiss is light, barely a touch. he pulls away, just for a moment, to look into your eyes. he kisses you again, but deeper this time, a way for you to say i love you better than his words could tell. it’s passionate and intimate and vulnerable, and it tastes of your salty tears and his vanilla chapstick. your stray fingers tug at his hair slightly, pressing him closer to you. it’s a thank you kiss. an i love you kiss. a kiss that says i’ll never leave you.

after a few moments, he slowly breaks away from you. your eyes still closed. carefully, they flutter open to see a dazed, dreamy-eyed leehan and with every fiber of his being, with every piece of his heart, he says, “i love you, yn. i’ll love you forever”

taglist — @whyilovewhales-pdf @uriwoos2

#onedoornet #features brown haired ihan cause i miss him lol #hiding in a corner now!! ❤️#leehan fluff #leehan x reader #leehan x reader fluff #leehan imagine #kim donghyun fluff #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor imagine #stories ♡

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 11 months ago

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ATSV Fun Fact!! - Mumbattan Cultural Details

Gayatri & Inspector Singh follow the Sikh Religion

Have you ever heard of Punjabi Sikhs?

If you don't know - Sikhism is a religion that originates in northern India, specifically Punjab.

The turban Gayatri's father wears - along with his last name 'Singh' implies that her father is most likely a Punjabi Sikh.

I notice this the first time watching ATSV and was like 'wow that's so cool :)'

It only hit me today that 'Oh wait I don't think a lot of people know about this very-specific, rarely-mentioned religion maybe i should say something,'

And because I LOVE yelling about world culture, LET'S GO!!!

[a SHORT essay where I explain the basics of Sikhism, a religion built on equality and justice. And details in The Singhs design, and exactly why Sikh Representation matters]

So What's Sikhism about?

Often mistaken for Muslims - Sikhs are actually a non-Abrahamic religion, with 20 million followers worldwide.

But even with so many visible practicing members, most people know very very little about this beautiful religion!

Sikhs believe in equality and unity - and defending the oppressed. Their book of faith, The Guru Granth Sahib Ji, is called 'Guru' for a reason - Sikhs see the book as not just a code of conduct, but as a living, breathing teacher for every practicioner;

From Wikipedia on Guru Granth Sahib: Sikhs since then [1708] have accepted the Guru Granth Sahib, the sacred scripture, as their eternal-living guru, as the embodiment of the ten Sikh Gurus, the highest religious and spiritual guide for Sikhs. It plays a central role in guiding the Sikh's way of life.

The Guru Granth Sahib is the spiritual leader of Sikhism, and it's treated as such.

That's why in Gurdwaras - their place of worship - it's treated as such, being clothed and held in ornate structure, constantly fanned throughout it's readings (the fan you can see in the left picture).

They believe that by following the Guru Granth Sahib Ji, they can cultivate compassion, peace, and harmony in their communities, while diminishing 'Mara' - concepts like hatred or violence.

Sikhs believe that every Sikh should revere themselves as champions of unity. And because of this many Sikhs have the same last name -

Kaur for women (Meaning Princess) and Singh for men (Meaning Lion).

Having the same last name also does away with the Indian caste system, making it another point of equality.

In ATSV Gayatri last name is Singh. However from my understanding, her name would most likely be Gayatri Kaur in reality.

I think they kept her last name as Singh as a deliberate choice to keep her initials as GS, like Gwen Stacy.

So is Gayatri Sikh?

Maybe - most likely.

But we can't be sure. Mainly because of her hair.

Gayatri has a short bob haircut, and while that might not seem like it matters, it does!

In Sikhism there are the '5K's - different aspects Sikhs wear to show their faith.

Notice the first one?

'Kesh' is the practice of leaving ones hair completely uncut. That's why you may see a lot of Sikh men with long, long beards!

And hence, the large turbans.

It's done as respect for God's creation - leaving it unaltered.

[Fun Fact! - Rastafarians, a Jamaican religion, also don't cut their hair for this reason. Think Bob Marley. Rastas call God - Jah]

So, Gayatri having short hair means she doesn't keep Kesh.

However, Sikh is a super accepting and open religion, and it's main focus is on acceptance of difference, not conformity - so she could entirely follow the faith without doing all of any of the 5Ks.

Also, if you're curious about the steel sword K - Kirpan, yes that's a thing!

Sikhs of all genders are encouraged to carry a small ceremonial blade with them.

Instead it's a symbol of the commitment to fighting for what's right - and defending those who cannot defend themselves.

A Kirpan can ONLY be used to defend the life of yourself or others, which is incredibly rare.

Why is this all so rad, cool, and important?

If you haven't noticed by now, Sikhism is a religion driven by justice. Not just in theory, but in really life as well.

That's why you may see many Sikh police officers and politicians, even here in the West. Most of them wearing the emblem on their turbans.

In fact, Canada has SO MANY Sikh politicians, that in 2019 they elected 18 of them.

For centuries Sikhs have been dedicated to justice, and developing systems of support, whether that be political involvement or feeding those in need.

The biggest Gurdwara (a place of Sikh worship) The Golden Temple feeds over 100,000 people A DAY.

For FREE.

It's a practice called Langar. A communal meal anyone can enjoy. And of course, Langar food is vegetarian.

Making Inspector Singh a Sikh - and showing him saving people and being warm to his daughter on screen is great representation for a community so often overlooked! Despite the fact they are over 20 million practicing Sikhs.

It's a great detail for Indian and Punjabi representation in specific. It accurate shows their beliefs and commitment towards helping others, no matter the cost.

And from what we can tell, this choice came later in development. We know this because ALL of his concept art shows him with a turban, not keeping Kesh.

It seems like someone later on down the line said 'Wait if his name is Singh I think he's Sikh and if he's Sikh then we're gonna have to redesign him and make that obvious oops'.

That, dear audience, is why you always have an Anthropologist in the writing room. Or some amateur anthropologist like me :)

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I hope you enjoyed reading this, I really enjoyed writing it!! Sikhism is one of my favorite religions and if you have never heard anything from the Guru Granth Sahib I HIGHLY recommend it, it's very optimistic and compassionate. Sikhnet(.)com is also a great resource!

I have no idea if this will pique anyone's interest, but I hardly ever see Sikhs reflected in media and I know many many people may confuse them with Muslim, especially since many women Sikhs keep kesh and cover their hair as well.

But if you ever wanted to know the difference, here it is! If you read this far, thank you SO MUCH. And if you're a Sikh and reading this, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

As usual, here's a photo of Hobie for your travels.

BYE.

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itsabouttimex2 · 5 months ago

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I hope this isn't an odd question

But, do you think Wukong or Macaque would act or treat different their "cub" if they genders were swapped or being a female version? This is also for a Yan behavior

I don't know too much about how is the raising of a monkey from the father and mother so I was curious with this since they're both mystical demons

I was thinking about this when I saw some fanarts from the artist @/car_nimbus on Twitter, they made a neat versions of the characters with another gender

Monkey Mama

(Hmm okay let me build a hypothetical OG “Female Monkey King” to work off of here and then I’ll try to translate that into LMK’s SWK. Also, I’ll probably make a second variation of this afterwards with other characters, haha. This got a little long to do both SWK and Mac!)

Sun Wukong as a character is already heavily defined by rebellion and personal choice, so I think that making him a girl only really compounds that layer of his character.

In many older narratives, female characters are often expected to be more obedient or modest than men, and very frequently only exist as prizes or, more rarely, villains. A female Sun Wukong; assuming she plays the same role as her original incarnation, defies the expectations of how “traditional” women should behave, shirking the demure and passive “ideal” and adding another layer of rebellion to her character.

(JTTW is actually pretty great in terms of female representation, with characters ranging from the perpetually good Quanyin, the eventually repentant Princess Iron Fan, and the straight up evil White Bone Spirit. I’m a big fan of how the women aren’t slid into any one “role” throughout the story.)

I think: in story, she’d likely be viewed as a sort of “anomaly”—a woman too strong, too outspoken, and too unwilling to conform to typical feminine ideals. Her defiance and arrogance might be viewed as even more scandalous by the Celestial Realm.

Instead of being made a “stable-keeper”, I think probably she’s sent to whatever Heavenly Scullery exists in that divine realm, and put to work very quickly. She would treat this “job” with indifference or even amusement at first-after all, physical labor or menial tasks don't diminish her self-worth or confidence! She’s had a life of hard work, leading an army of Yaoguai, cultivating Flower Fruit Mountain,

So she’s fine with this… at first. Then it turns out that the food she makes with her fellow low-class workers isn’t distributed amongst the people making it, but plated up nice and pretty for a bunch of “stuffy old gods” who didn’t lift a finger! Bullshit!

So obviously, the prideful Monkey Queen goes on a destructive rampage in regards to the unfair disparity of treatment, then storms back down to Earth to throw a “feel-better” party with her fellow Yaogaui.

(Which isn’t just a party, but a symbolic reclaiming of joy and community, with her monkey tribe representing the freedom she craves and the earthly bonds she prefers over heavenly authority. It's not just an escape, but a statement of independence.)

After an extensive set of repairs, the Court sends down someone to drag her back, because, you know, the local super-powered monkey is back on the loose, and that’s not exactly great for them. This time, they offer her a “better” role- she gets to become an official Peach Maiden, lucky her!

Of course, it’s just another form of entrapment, but within a prettier cage. Even though she's given a cushier position, it's a veneer- she's still being silenced, controlled, and stripped of her freedom. The role played by a Peach Maiden is an inversion of Wukong's essence, as these women are happily serving the role of passive caretakers, nurturing with gentle smiles—a direct contrast to the free-willed, brash nature of the Monkey Queen.

(And while there’s nothing wrong with being demure, passive, and feminine, having people try to force her into that role is where Sun Wukong draws her line.)

Here, she is expected to watch in silence as others revel in the freedom and power denied to her. It's a different kind of prison, one that quietly erodes her spirit. When the Celestial Court tries to reintegrate her as a Peach Maiden, they are once again attempting to place her into a docile, decorative role, one that strips away her power and independence. Those immortal peach orchards, a symbol of immortality and divine favor, becomes a prison for her.

Surrounded by "ideal" women who embody the quiet, submissive role she despises, the Monkey Queen finds herself chafing under the pressure of conformity. Her energy, once boundless and chaotic, is now caged, and the simmering resentment builds.

The buildup to her inevitable rebellion after being made a Peach Maiden, then, becomes a very sympathetic moment because it's not just a rejection of the role forced on her, but a rejection of the very system that tries to diminish who she is at her core. Her rebellion isn’t about anger and shame- it’s about reclaiming her true self after having been suffocated by the expectations of the Celestial Court. Her rampage becomes an assertion of her identity as something that can't be confined by heavenly rules or social mores.

The Court, in its attempt to “contain" her, only fuels her defiance further, leading her once again to rebel.

It was never going to end well. But it ends all the same, and punishment is to be levied to the Queen, just the same as any other rebellious rule-breaker... actually, probably harsher.

There’s “you broke our rules and tried to lead a coup”, then there’s “you did all that, and we also find your very person to be wrong on a fundamental level”, and then she gets the book thrown at her twice over.

But! Then she meets Tang Sanzang, who sees something in her that neither the Celestial Realm nor her own band of Sworn Brothers saw. Not a heretic simian savaging a holy realm. Not a Queen to rally behind for their own gain.

But a lost soul in need of guidance.

And from there the Great Monk works on building Sun Wukong up as a person instead of leading her astray or trying to cut massive chunks of her personality out? And talks to her about the things she cares about? And teaches her about all the things she missed after spending five hundred years under a rock?

And then she meets Zhu Baije, who starts out a little too happy and carefree about having a beautiful woman around, but eventually comes to smash open heads when Wukong is disrespected, because that’s not just a hot woman, that’s his sister?

Or Sha Wujing, who helps her with even the smallest things, from trimming her claws to cutting her wild hair to preparing meals for the monk? And lets her perch on his shoulders and head so the queen can get some skinship in?

Then Ao Lie, who is every bit the “disappointment to the world at large” that she was considered? And they take turns braiding each other’s hair and wiping the mess from the other’s face, and sleeping in the same tent and same bedroom because it’s less effort?

She gets a dad and three little brothers?

She gets a family.

And then loses it and is alone again for several hundred years more.

So if we go with this theoretical “My natural existence has been rejected for being seen as ‘improper’ by a court of stuffy traditional assholes” and then “I dearly love/miss my dead found family” angle, I think she’d be portrayed as a very different sort of character in LMK.

She’s quicker to lash out and defend herself, and much less willing to sit around and let the world pass her by- because that’s what was demanded of her by the Celestial Realm.

Be good. Be quiet. Be demure. Be obedient. Be anything except you.

I don’t think she’d be as willing to “rest on her laurels” as her canon counterpart, given that a “quiet boring life” was what she had fought so very hard to escape in the first place, so instead of isolating herself from the world in the first place, she probably sets up a little “souvenir shop” at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain, taking a human form to sell little knick-knacks that herald to the journey she undertook with her old friends.

In part, this is how Wukong works to honor them. To spread their legacy. To ensure that they aren’t forgotten, left as a footnote in the annals of history. To remember them.

In part, it’s how she justifies all the mistakes she’s made and the suffering she’s been through. Settling in to a pointlessly relaxed life is exactly what she fought against, after all. She’s heavily fallen into the “sunk-cost fallacy”, where giving up and settling in, to her, means “losing”. It means “everything I went through was all for nothing”. So she keeps at this little store instead of just retiring and isolating herself from the world, even though she’d be happier to ditch it and lounge about.

So when MK and his eccentric bunch of friends comes around with their boundless energy and mischief, she immediately goes, “Oh, okay! This is what I wanted!”

(It’s not. All she’s ever wanted is her friends back. How could there be anything else?)

The Monkie Kids are vibrant, eccentric, and full of qualities that immediately resonate with Wukong. They remind her of the energy, camaraderie, and sense of adventure that she once shared with her old companions. She sees MK's arrival not just as a chance to teach someone a few of her old tricks, but as an echo of her own life—a life she hasn't been able to truly let go of.

So she starts projecting- on the surface, MK is very much like her. He's spirited, good-natured, and curious- and reckless. Just like she was. Wukong latches onto this quickly, sort of using the kid as a proxy for herself. After all, if she can't go back to her old life, why not embrace a new one that feels close enough? In some ways, this marks her refusal to accept the passage of time, a desperate clinging to the hope that, through MK, she can rekindle the connections she once cherished.

However, underneath that initial enthusiasm is the repressed understanding that MK, despite his similarities to her younger self, cannot truly replace what she lost. The friends she fought beside, the battles they waged together, and the lessons they learned are unique, irreplaceable moments in her life. No matter how much MK’s gang reminds her of the past, he and his friends a stand-in for the companions she still longs for. But her deep desire to reconnect with her old friends clouds her ability to see MK for who he truly is: his own person, on his own journey.

It takes her a while to get to that point, though. So she’s more doting and affectionate, in a way that somewhat stifles her student’s training because she wants to be both her old carefree self and also a good mentor, and the two just get jumbled.

Sidenote: I think with the difference in actions and behavior, MK would be more open to viewing Fem!Wukong as a parental figure than the OG, especially since he doesn’t really have someone to fulfill that “mom” role.

For their dynamic, I think something like this would be the outcome:

———————————————————————-

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of varied orange and blue. With a tired hand, MK wipes the sweat from his brow.

He’s perched on one of the rocky spires dotting Flower Fruit Mountain, gazing at the view with a small smile of accomplishment. Training had been intense lately… if only because he had been doubling down on the time he spent practicing, without giving as much care to rest or aftercare.

After all, even though his powers were blooming steadily… his enemies also were growing in power and quantity, leading to the ever-creeping edge of fear that anything less than a constant one-hundred percent just wouldn’t be “enough”.

And right as he reaches back to grab the golden staff he has inherited from the Monkey Queen-

“MK! I told you to take a break, not run off to do more training!”

Her voice, uncharacteristically sharp, cuts through the formerly tranquil air, causing MK to jump. He turns just in time to see Sun Wukong strolling toward him, her hands on her hips and a look of mock annoyance on her face.

MK grinned sheepishly, shifting his grass-stained boots against the dirt. “I was just, you know… checking out the view.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. This kid... “Uh-huh. Checking out the view or sneaking in some practice when I wasn’t looking?”

Caught fast in his lie, MK rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Maybe a little of both?”

In spite of herself, Sun Wukong quietly laughs, the sound echoing like a chiming bell through the mountain. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her in the wind, each strand catching the light like molten fire. Despite her legendary status- the rebellious warrior who’d fought the heavens and nearly won!- there was a warmth to her that MK had come to cherish.

“All work and no play, MK,” she said, sitting beside him on the rock and ruffling his hair with a fondness that always made him feel like a little kid again. “You’ll burn out before you get anywhere.”

He looked at her, eyes shining with admiration. “But you never stop training. You’ve been at this for centuries! I just…”

A pause, as his chest turns over, unsettled by the notion of opening up. But… it’s the Monkey Queen. So it.. should be okay, right?

“I want to make you proud.”

Sun Wukong’s expression softens, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the boy close in a tight embrace. “You already make me proud, kid. You don’t have to prove anything.”

MK leaned into the touch, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him. Even from the start she’d been like this with him- protective, nurturing… and maybe a bit overbearing at times. But he didn’t mind. It made him feel safe, like no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn’t alone.

MK chuckled, turning his face up to meet his idol’s eyes.” I’ll keep up,” he triumphantly declares, pumping a fist.” I promise.”

“Good.” Wukong shifted, her clawed hand lightly missing his spiked locks. “Now, how about we head back to the shop and grab something to eat? You’ve earned it.”

MK’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and he nodded so eagerly that she wondered if his head wouldn’t ache from the motion. “You know, I won’t say no to a good meal.”

The Monkey Queen stood up, dusting off her mentee’s clothes before offering him a hand. “Of course you won’t. C’mon, my treat.”

———————————————————————-

Now, to answer your question about how she acts in regards to her own cub… in general I think she’s much more doting than the OG, willing to express herself through constant displays of physical affection, in ways that are far more varied.

Constant forehead smooching, cuddles, grooming sessions, all of it! Mama Wukong never wants to let go of her baby! Sit down and let her paint your nails! Let her comb and braid your hair! Let her make you a nice lunch (loaded with mystical drugs to keep you nice and sleepy for extra cuddles), or at least a filling snack! Let her pepper your face with kisses as she spins you in her powerful arms!

Lots and lots of indulgent fluffy days of binging unhealthy foods and watching cozy reruns of old shows, your head in her lap as she hums and does up your hair with her lazy hands.

Lots of reminiscing about old suitors as she considers the quietest and quickest ways to kill anyone who makes the futile attempt to pursue you in the same way.

Despite her obsessive behavior, Wukong struggles with conflicting feelings about wanting her child to be strong and independent, just like her! She pushes you to train hard and become powerful, but when you inevitably seek their own freedom or autonomy, she’d experience a mix of pride and heartbreak, pushing her deeper into possessive tendencies.

If you ever tried to leave or even just start to break away, Wukong’s worst traits would bubble up like hellfire. Just as she fought against an entire realm’s authority, she would absolutely wage a war to keep her child close, all while justifying her actions as love.

The Monkey Queen is also more willing to take routes outside of brute force if it means securing extra protection for Y/N. If Macaque or maybe Azure (or someone else like Erlang Shen) wants to try and play “suitor”, well, she’s not too interested… until the thought arises that having him around makes you extra safe! And then she’s willing to think on it.

(That’s assuming that you aren’t one of their biological kids to begin with, in which case there might be a sort of “yandere triangle”. Azure/Macaque/Erlang Shen doing his damndest to reclaim his wife, before he learns that she’s had a child while he was gone... or maybe Pigsy and Tang decided that MK needs his mentor in a more ‘accessible’ position, and plot to drag her to Megapolis…)

Lots of potential monkey mama shenanigans, basically!

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong #MK #Yandere Mother #Yandere Headcanons #Sunburst Duo #Genderbend #Female Sun Wukong #TW: Drugging

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