#on the drive here I was telling her as a kid I though people with 2 story houses were Rich rich

[haveihitanerve]

Had an idea but I forgor it so here's a different one

Bruce Wayne, concussed and on several strong painkillers, socializing with socialites from outside Gotham. They ask him about his kids and joke about how they all look so similar to him.

His brain, moving at about 3mph, does not register that his kids were ADOPTED (safe for one) and answers their questions as if he gave birth to them, forgetting he also doesn't have the facilities for that (unless you want him to- we love old trans people)

"Master Bruce I really must insist-" Alfred tried for the fourth time in seven minutes, Bruce had counted, reaching to push him back to bed and pull off the suit jacket he had only moments before helped Bruce put on.

"'M going Alf." Bruce grumbled back, rubbing a bleary hand over his eyes. "There's no use in putting it off. Don't have a good excuse and.." He grimaced. "They need to see me. It's been a while."

Alfred opened his mouth to protest again, even going so far as to move in front of the door to block his exit. "You are on far too many medications Mr. Wayne, not to mention a concussion! You simply cannot."

Bruce's lips twitched it amusement. It was a rare day when Alfred's composure was rattled to the point of calling him Mr. Wayne, and while Alfred was admittedly very strong, there was no way his physical blockation of Bruce's path would actually stop him.

"Alf." Bruce began gently, and the butler scoffed, rolling his eyes as he moved out of the way, striding down the long hallway. "Well. I see my advice isn't heeded. As always."

Bruce threw him an apologetic smile, heading for the main door. "Love ya Alfie!!" The butler snorted, but Bruce could tell he was softening.

"Call if you need boy." Alfred murmured. Bruce grinned, offering a wink as he pulled the door open. "I will." He promised, sliding into the backseat of his limousine, heading to the Gala.

He hissed as the needle broke his skin, biting his lip to prevent any further sounds as the anti-biotic worked its way into his system. Alfred would most definitely have protested its use, especially as Bruce tossed back a handful of other added painkillers, but if he was being honest, he needed them to get through the night.

"Thanks Hank. Tell your wife I said hi and grab her a bouquet on your way home. On me." He patted his driver's shoulder as he climbed out. Hank grinned, tipping his black cap.

"You always make me seem like such a good husband Mr. Wayne, I appreciate it. Have a good night." Bruce grinned back, stumbling slightly as he moved towards the doors, using the car to stabilize himself.

"You give me too much credit, send your boys some love and you have tomorrow off, try to actually use that baseball glove I gifted you." Hank chortled, setting the car into drive. "Will do sir. Good night." Bruce nodded the same back, watching until the car pulled away fully to stumble up the steps.

"Maybe those pills weren't such a good idea." He mumbled to himself as he made it to the doors, pulling them open to walk inside, heading straight for the table laid out with food. Of course, one couldn't enter a Gala without greeting the hosts, and he barely made it two steps before he was intercepted.

"Mrs. and Mr. Ketch. How lovely to see you." Bruce offered a bow, bending too low before rocking back upwards. Mrs. Ketch was smiling at him, a lovely, true smile that Bruce noticed tended to happen whenever he greeted the woman first instead of the man. Mr. Ketch was frowning, but more at Bruce's bizarre drunken act than any offense towards being placed after his wife.

"Are you alright, Wayne?" He asked, and Bruce hated that he actually liked the Ketch's, because there was genuine concern in the mans voice. Another reason why he had come.

The Ketch's were new money, self made, and trying to blend in with the old elites, though Bruce had to admit they never would, they were just too good, too kind, too sincere.

He wondered, dimly, in the back of his foggy, drug addled mind, if perhaps they'd finally tire of all the snide comments, rude looks, sneers, and give up on their well meaning charity that they had chosen Gotham for. He hoped they wouldn't. He liked having actual good conversation at these dull events.

"M fine, truly." Bruce answered, a few seconds too late, smiling lazily. "Might've had a few." He tried his best imitation at a drunken smile, wincing as he realized it was dangerously close to how he really felt.. tipsy. Off balance.

Robert, because that was his name, he had told Bruce his first name instead of demanding he call him Mr., frowned a little in concern, and before he knew it they had herded him to one of the seating places, settling down by him.

"How're the kids?" Mrs. Ketch asked, handing him a glass of water that Bruce gratefully accepted. "Amazing." He answered. "Splendid. They're always doing so well. They don't see it though." He frowned at his glass, wondering why that was.

"They're so amazing though. It just doesn't make any sense," He sat up, leaning forward to look at the couple in front of him intensely. They both had their eyebrows raised in surprise, but leaned forward in tandem, intruiged.

"Because see, they're so brilliant, and lovely, and smart, really I think they're the smartest people in the world- like ever. And Dickie, he's so kind and sweet and nice, and he's got a few problems and I'm sorry about it but he's really just amazing and an all around good person, I really oughtta try and be more like him, and oh he's got my eyes, im so glad he got my eyes, but i love his nose too, its nothing like mine- anyway Jason too- whoo he got my height im so happy for him- he also has my eyes! they all have my eyes actually, except cass, and damian, but like he's so brilliant and smart and he was such a good kid, he is now too- oh he doesn't like me calling him kid, but he'll always be my baby, and oh i cried so much when he died, but he better now, oh and Timmy, oh timmy is so smart. Soooo smart like genuis level, and he's wayy smarter than me, wayyyy smarter, and alfie says he has my hair, but i dont see it- i think he got my jaw though- and then Cass oh Cassandra My baby girl she's lovely and sweet and a charmer, beautiful girl, so is Barbara, but she won't let me say that to her, no no, but she is, she's so pretty and smart and quick, she scares me sometimes but I love her, such a good girl yknow? And Stephanie? Oh she and Tim need to make it official so shes mine. mine mine mine. I need another daughter you know? Too many boys. Equality of men and women at home. I need them home. And then Duke. hes so lovely too. Oh and Damian. Damian took some adjusting but they're all so lovely yknow? I remember the day they were born so vividly. I was so happy. I love them so much. It hurt, of course, but what is that to the joy they bring now yknow?"

Bruce took a sip of his drink, nodding thoughtfully as he leaned back. Mrs. and Mr. Ketch blinked a few times, opened their mouths, closed them again, and leaned back as well, exchanging glances.

"Yes. Well. Quite." Mr. Ketch cleared his throat. "Bruce, perhaps we should call you someone? To take you home?" Mrs. Ketch nodded her agreement.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you home. You need to go to bed and.. and sleep this off." Bruce nodded, letting them help him stand and guide him to the door as Mr. Ketch called someone.

"Yeah. I like bed. And sleep. Oh- but I can't. Uh-uh, I promised Dickie I'd call him." Bruce nodded, turning to head back inside as though that would help his quest.

Mrs. Ketch grabbed his arm and gently, but firmly, led him back outside. "Rob just called him sweetheart, he's on his way."

"Oh." Bruce nodded. "Oh. Thas good." Mrs. Ketch nodded her agreement, rubbing his back soothingly. "I like that." Bruce hummed, letting his eyes close. "Its like what my mother used to do." Mrs. Ketch looked at him in surprise, hand stilling for a second before resuming.

"Really?" She asked gently. Bruce hummed in confirmation. "Oh yes. Yeah she did. You do it well. You'd make a good mom. Just like me. Well, I don't make a good mom." At that he frowned at the ground, biting his lip. "But I try."

Mrs. Ketch smiled, turning them as a car pulled up. "Yes. You do. And you do it marvelously Bruce, truly. That's all we can ever do. Try." Bruce nodded his agreement as the door opened and his eldest emerged, rushing to his side.

"Bruce!" Dick looked genuinely worried, grabbing his shoulder. "You alright?" His son's eyes were searching, scanning his body.

"Oh hes fine." Mrs. Ketch waved with a smile. "Just a few drinks. I think it'd be best he go home though, sleep it off." Dick nodded his agreement, smiling at her. "Yes. I think thats best. Thank you." She shrugged, waving it off.

"Of course. It's what he would have done for me." Dick lowered Bruce into the passenger seat, heading for the drivers. "Bruce." Ketch tapped the window, leaning down. "Hm?" Bruce tilted his head, rolling it down.

"I'm pregnant." Bruce waited, jaw dropping slowly as the words connected in his brain. "You are?" She nodded, a small smile crossing her face.

"Yes. You're the first person I've told." She glanced nervously over her shoulder, to where her husband was waiting on the steps. Bruce reached for her hand, clasping it in his own.

"You'll make an excellent mother. And he will make an amazing father." He promised. She smiled, biting her lip anxiously. "You think?" Bruce nodded. "I know." At that her smile softened, and she patted his cheek.

"Thank you. And, for what it's worth Bruce," She glanced past him to Dick, who was kindly pretending not to listen. "I think you make an excellent mother."

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 86 (Family Drama)

The next evening, before Heather and Conrad left for their date, her youngest sister, Hazel, arrived in Brindleton Bay to watch her niece and nephew.

Ash excitedly called to her from the computer as soon as she walked in the door. "Aunt Hazel, Aunt Hazel, come check out my new game!"

"Thanks for driving out here so Conrad and I can have a night out," Heather said. "The security cameras are working and Conrad's getting the kids fed before we go, so just get them to bed at a decent hour and no horror movies."

"It's just food colouring," she protested, but with Heather's stern glance she nodded obediently. "Sorry, Ashy. No Moonlight Massacre tonight, after all."

Heather changed the subject before Ash could complain. "I'm sad you won't be in town when we're in Henford this weekend to meet River and Cass' new baby boy. Dad says you don't call home enough."

Hazel laughed. "Dad tells me you don't call enough! None of us could ever call home enough. River still lives there and Dad probably thinks he doesn't get to see enough of him, either."

"Missing out on Dad guilt tripping us to visit for a political conference in San Myshuno's pretty cool, though. Ash, that's enough game time. Conrad's almost finished making your dinner."

Ash moaned, but he turned off the computer and headed for the kitchen as Hazel picked up her niece for a cuddle in her unicorn onesie. "I'm kind of glad to be out of Henford for the night to get in time with Ashy and Lava. Has that weird old dude been a problem lately?"

Heather made sure Ash was out of earshot. "Not since the restraining order," she said, the relief on her face more than evident. "And you're stuck on those nicknames, huh? I thought nicknames were too corny for you."

"It's not my fault your kids are just as cool as volcanoes, big sis."

Heather grinned. Hazel, the baby of their family, could get away with anything and dripped charm to spare, but Heather could tell something was weighing on her mind. "Are you doing okay?"

Hazel took a deep breath, setting Lavender down before she moved to the sofa. "What made you realize you wanted to be single when we were in high school?"

Heather laughed. "It was just easier than having feelings. It's still easier than having feelings, but finding the right person is better. What's wrong?"

She frowned. "What if Nicola and I got married too young? We're different people than we were as teens. When her dad died of a heart attack a few months ago, it felt like I wasn't married to the same person anymore. I know she's grieving, but what if we didn't wait long enough into young adulthood to figure it all out?"

Heather could empathize with her sister's confusion over love and relationships. Not too long ago, Heather would have found it unthinkable to offer her siblings, of all people, relationship advice, but Conrad had shown her what great love could be.

"You know I've never been very flirty or romantic, and I held on to my relationship with Malcolm too long because I didn't think I deserved any better. I'd never recommend it, but I also know Nicola's not Malcolm Landgraab. If you trust her, you can tell her the truth."

Hazel nodded. "No, she's definitely not like Malcolm."

"If you're truly unhappy, don't force it because you think you're supposed to. But if you're asking me, I think it means there's still some fight in you to keep it together."

(Lovestruck's new relationship and chemistry features went after Hazel and her new wife, and I'm rolling with it to see what happens. I cheated their relationship back up a bit - as if what Heather said encouraged her to fight a little more - and we'll see how it goes with them.

The way I said that probably gave away what might happen but pfft you don't know!)

Grateful for her eldest sister's advice, Hazel turned her attention back to Lavender, while Heather joined Ash and Conrad in the kitchen.

"Tomorrow night we'll pack some things into your backpack for your weekend at your dad's," Heather said to her son. "He'll pick you up after school on Friday and take you to his place for the weekend."

"He'll probably send their driver like usual," he shrugged. "But Ray's cool."

"What do you mean, 'like usual?'"

Ash looked at her with confusion etched on his face. "Daddy's reporting til seven on the news every weeknight, Mommy!"

Heather stared at Conrad, wide-eyed. "He told me he does those hits pre-recorded."

"He always sends Ray, and Ray always takes me to get ice cream before we get to Daddy's penthouse. Why do you look pretend happy, Mommy? I love ice cream!"

"Your mom just hasn't met Ray, buddy."

"But Mommy, he's not a stranger. He's Ray!"

Heather plastered a smile, and Conrad reached under the table to caress her clenched fist. "I'll be at school on Friday afternoon when Ray's there to pick you up at three," she said. "If he's as nice as you say, I don't want him to be a stranger to me."

Ash smiled. "Okay, Mommy, that's a good a idea."

Heather felt constantly undermined by the Landgraabs. But there was little she could say without disappointing her son, and she didn't want bitterness to affect her night with Conrad. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Their date continues Monday but tomorrow there will be a bonus post inspired by @purplesimmer455! 👀

NOTE 2: Also noting, since this is an episode where nothing much seems to be happening, there are a few subtle hints in here, too, about how Conrad is on a pedestal, especially when Heather compares him to Malcolm, even though we all know he's keeping this massive secret from her, too.

[s0uth3park]

Random SP headcanons pt2

Pt 1

Tweek tried to, but ultimately will never, learn how to drive with heavy advice from his loved ones (Craig). It’s too stressful. It’s dangerous because of his anxiety and tics for others and himself. No driving for Tweek. Please.

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Craig for being “half ginger” because he’s a little scared of him… kind of.

Speaking of, Cartman showed Craig his own wiener (as per TxC) of his own volition.

Fat fucking crush on Kyle btw.

If Stan hates that he looks like his dad then he hates that Kyle looks like his mom btw. Because… alcoholic x radical canadaphobe?? Fuck knows.

Stan shakes on weed (no projection here). He can’t feel it though.

Speaking of, Tweek can’t feel his own shaking.

Cartman wishes that Kenny would act how he would / seeks Kenny’s validation, hence his criticism of Kenny of the most menial of things (ie. holding a candle in Put It Down).

If there was money for it, Karen would own a lot of stuffed animals.

Kevin and Karen do not carry the gene for red hair. Or blond/blonde hair.

Cartman loves his fucking grandma. (No projection I swear)

Jimbo holds some affection for Liane but is just a gay old fuck. Jimned 4eva

Did I mention in my last post I think, despite Mrs Valmer’s canon design, that Mrs Tweak has the biggest tits? I’m saying it again if so

SHE AND RICHARD SCREW SO BAD I KNOW I SAID BUT PLEASE UNDERSTAND–

I know I said last post that I didn’t know how Tweek and Butters would be cousins but now I’ve decided… people can think differently because anything goes but for me it’s through both fathers. Tweak Bros. originates from Mrs. Tweak’s father and to earn the right to marry her he had to win him over and show his dedication to the profession

Richard and Stephen got grounded a LOT

Linda and Sheila’s hair always smells incredible (so much product)

Sheila is the type of grandma to give out stale sweeties

The Marsh name ends with Stanley. The bloodline ends with both him and Shelley

Heidi is the mother of Kyle’s kids (coping)

Cartman only became homeless after his mother died

He never worked ever (garageman future aside)

Clyde got vaccinated guys we can all rest now (the bad future self came back to tell him to never do it but once the good future is put into play he gets vaccinated because there was no bad future to come back to tell him)

Clyde is very girldad coded, soz

Bebe’s dad is a bit younger than her mom (he is the ultimate girldad… Mr. Stevens I wish I knew your name)

Clyde gets more insecure about his weight / appearance as he gets older. For now he is young however so let him live (his pudge is the pudge ever and he is sonboy if not a carnal dream and a half… latter only in pcov ofc)

Mr. Stevens helps Bebe with her homework a fuckton (particularly maths)

Butters bites his nails

Butters (after growing up) loves strong women. Look at his Pcov design and tell me he doesn’t want / have / respect a buff wife.

If Butters wasn’t grounded as much as a kid he wouldn’t have a fear of expectations as much as he does, meaning he would have probably gotten a better job than working in Dennybees or whatever it was called. Bro could have been a multi billionaire girlboss

I just want someone to hear this it’s not really a headcanon but BHLK Queen Thistle? LINDA STOTCH? Same character different nationalities istg

Kyle plays chaperone a fair bit to the guys

Kyle, Tolkien and Craig are the most sensible drivers out of All The Boys (Tolkien behind Craig and Kyle if I’m being honest)

Kenny and Bebe (Bebe isn’t a boy but YKWIM) are the fucking fastest / most reckless

Clyde and Stan are sort of not great but not bad drivers

Jimmy is rather close to Tolkien in terms of driving skill yk

Butters, Cartman, Tweek don’t drive – Cartman out of laziness / expectation of chaperones, and Butters and Tweek out of stress… Tweek tried to learn though

Craig in later years drives Tweek everywhere

Tweek and Cartman have experienced heart attacks (in later years) but for different reasons to the other. Clyde has come very close. So has Craig, though not as close.

Tweek dies before Craig.

Stan dies before Kyle.

Butters dies before Kenny (ironically).

Craig visits Tweek’s grave with flowers every week??

Craig, as an old man, where’s a lot of fucking cardigans. Grandpa shirts too (the things without the collars).

Tweek and Craig have matching anythings. Typically slippers.

Bebe is very handsy and sometimes possessive. Clyde thinks it’s “sweet”. (The dudebro sweet not the romantic sweet through the possessiveness originates from romanticism).

In Pcov Clyde is a delivery man, actually

Out of all the couples, it would always be Clybe to cause the most hickeys

Bebe has a flatter ass than brilliant boobs (opposite for Wendy, though Wendy isn’t flat chested)

Nichole bleaches her skin in the future (it’s sad but look at her design. Out of everything else it’s the most unrecognisable and it’s awful)

Nichole loves 60s/70s paraphernalia and fashion (the ultimate flower power child)

Wendy and Cartman fuck at least once in their lifetimes. They take it to the grave, but because of this Cartman doesn’t die a fucking virgin

That sounds so damn harsh wth but it’s true (I think Cartman doesn’t really have any labels moreso is just attached to certain people when it’s not just himself *cough cough* Kyle and Wendy *cough cough*)

Jimmy can see perfectly fine out of both eyes until he reaches teenhood

Jimmy has two brown haired alleles

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Kenny or Craig for having a ginger / red haired parent because he thinks they’re pretty cool. He lowkey ships them / wants to be them.

Cartman has the gene for ginger hair.

[stonathandreamer]

Married!Stonathan with a daughter headcanons to brighten your day ✨

🔸 Masterlist

🔹 You can read part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 4 here

A/N: I have unanimously decided that Saturdays are "Married!Stonathan with a Daughter" days, so here's another set of headcanons!

--------------------------✨✨--------------------------

✨ If you haven't read part 1 of "Married Stonathan! with a Daughter Headcanons," you can read it here, and then come back 😘!

✨ Steve's the type of dad who gets distracted watching a kid's show with Elizabeth, so when Jonathan comes to check in on them, he finds Steve sitting on the floor watching Rugrats and Elizabeth nowhere in sight;

— "What are you doing, Steve?"

— "Watching Rugrats with Lizzie, babe."

— "Uh-huh... And where is Lizzie...?"

— "What do you mean where is she? She's right... Ah, shit, not again..."

✨ Steve's also the type of dad who thinks it's funny to scare their baby daughter, but one time, he inadvertently made her cry, which resulted in him sleeping on the couch for a week;

✨ He's also the type of dad who thinks it's funny when their kids curse. Oh, 4-year-old Elizabeth said "fuck"? Steve's laughing his ass off while Jonathan's fighting the urge to strangle him - because Steve's lack of a baby filter is the cause of this;

✨ Steve thinks of himself as "the cool dad" and Jonathan as "the not-so-cool dad," but, in reality, he's way stricter with Elizabeth than Jonathan is because Steve is aware of what stupid teenagers do. After all, he was a stupid teenager himself - and a pretty stupid one at that;

✨ Jonathan is not as strict as Steve because he trusts his daughter and knows she's nowhere as stupid as he or Steve were in their teenage years;

✨ Steve babyproofed the whole house;

✨ Elizabeth is responsible like her dad Jonathan, and protective like her dad Steve - the best of both worlds!

✨ Also inherited the sarcasm and snarkiness of her Byers dad and irritability of her Harrington dad - the worst of both worlds;

✨ Very domestic Steve & Jonathan! Doing house chores together, like cooking (Steve's not allowed to cook by himself, though), doing laundry, washing the cars, and stuff - which leads to Elizabeth calling them "disgustingly sweet," much to their amusement;

✨ Steve is the type of dad who freaks out over the tiniest things. Like, 7-year-old Elizabeth fell off her bike and scraped her knee? Immediately scoops her up in his arms and runs inside the house while asking her if she's alright, then proceeds to interrogate her and ask if Elizabeth was being reckless and threatening to confiscate her bike;

✨ While Jonathan's just there, smiling at Steve freaking out before telling him to calm down;

✨ Elizabeth gets embarrassed by Steve whenever they go out together because he thinks he looks good on anything, and then proceeds to go out looking like this:

✨ Yeah, he has "the dad style";

✨ Jonathan is the one responsible for teaching Elizabeth how to drive because Steve yelled too much during their 15-minute lesson;

✨ Elizabeth threatens people with the fact that her dad's a cop despite Steve constantly telling her not to do it, otherwise he'll get in trouble at work but Elizabeth reassures him it's fine because her grandpa's the Chief of Police - and the thought of getting into trouble with Hopper makes Steve PANIC;

✨ She's fiercely protective of her dads - no one's allowed to send weird looks at them;

✨ They have dozens of pictures of Elizabeth in their wallets - all taken by Jonathan;

✨ Steve's the bad cop, and Jonathan's the good one;

✨ Though Jonathan is not afraid to be strict if he needs to, and no human being in the entire world is foolish enough to not listen to Jonathan Byers when he's being strict;

✨ Jonathan's a master of saying "I'm not mad, just disappointed," and that's so much worse than all the yelling, shouting, and scolding Steve has available in his arsenal;

✨ Constantly asks Elizabeth about boyfriends - or girlfriends;

✨ Feign shock and disappointment when their daughter informs them she's straight;

— "So, any boys, Lizzie?"

— "Or girls."

— "Dads, I'm straight."

— [dramatic gasps accompanied by putting a hand over their hearts.]

✨ Robin mocks Steve when he starts acting like an overprotective dad. Also calls him "dad dingus" now, much to his annoyance;

✨ Jonathan often asks Joyce for advice, and despite her constantly telling him he and Steve are doing everything right, he can't help but feel a bit insecure and also fearful of turning into Lonnie;

✨ Steve, meanwhile, fears being too much like his grade-A asshole dad;

✨ Elizabeth's D&D character is a Sorcerer - courtesy of her Uncle Will and Uncle Mike, who always played with D&D with Elizabeth when babysitting her for Steve and Jonathan;

✨ Proudest dads in the world who have a whole section of their living room dedicated to Elizabeth's achievements;

✨ Jokingly accuse each other of their daughter's bad behavior;

— "She has your temper, Steve!"

— "Oh, yeah? Well, she has your sarcasm, Jon!"

✨ Both agree that Robin, Nancy, and Dustin are bad influences on their daughter and should not leave her alone with them unsupervised;

✨ Elizabeth has the best parents in her group of friends, but will never admit it out loud because teenagers think it's cringe to say their parents are cool;

✨ Regarding where the Harrington-Byers family lives, I know Jonathan's plan is to leave Hawkins behind and go study photography at NYU (and in my headcanons, he is a photojournalist and a damn good one at that), but let's not forget Jonathan's a teenager and teenagers have all sorts of dreams. Just like Jonathan, when I was 17, my plan was to leave my small town behind and go to the big city to attend college, which I did and then returned to my small town one year after graduating from law school because here's where my family lives and I didn't want to be away from them, primarily because of some family issues. And I think Jonathan would do the same. He wouldn't leave Joyce and Will behind - he'd either bring them along if he could or return to stay with them. The fact Jonathan doesn't want to go to college with that girlfriend of his and instead wants to attend community college to be near his mom and brother is proof of that. So, because of that, I headcanon Jonathan, Steve, and their daughter live with Hawkins, near their friends, family, and other loved ones.

[fingertipsmp3]

Swear to god if I was actually a proper reddit user I’d be posting the stupidest AITA posts

[ghostickle]

U ever see someone’s house for the first time and suddenly become very aware u have lived incredibly different lives

[saladsays]

Shoutout to our idiot father who is trying his very hardest to get our brothers to hate our mother

[tobiasdrake]

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[euniexenoblade]

"I'm not a girl!" - a transfem forcefem story

Hi hi hi hi, note that the premise of this is essentially an egg being cracked by an older woman, so there's a lot of he/him and "boy" useage. But stick with it please, I assure you the end is worth getting to :) also don't be mean about any weird grammar I literally wrote this in a couple of hours for free. Be nice.

----

The boy stood there against the wall holding a red solo cup, looking down at the floor, overwhelmed from alcohol and loud booming music of the party. He had watched his drunken roommate drive off with a date – his ride home was gone. He didn't know any of these people, his roommate insisted he come to this party to meet new people, and now he was all alone. Panic and anxiety swarmed his thoughts. He was drunk, he'd never been drunk before. He was fairly far from home, could he walk home like this? He doesn't know any of these people, would any help him if he asked for a ride home? He doesn't ask, though, he just stands against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone there, trying his best not to panic.

A moment of bravery, the boy looks up from the floor to scan the party to see if there was anyone that looked like they'd be approachable. To his dismay it all looked like drunken college kids talking, dancing, being obnoxious, people he felt too scared to talk to. His eyes flow from one side of the room to the other, noting nothing interesting. That is, until he sees a tall woman standing with a group of girls. Long legs under a short skirt being the first thing to catch his attention, but before long he noticed her wearing a band tee that was so tight it was straining against her chest, causing him to stare at her chest from afar. For a brief moment, he is distracted from his anxiety with drunken horniness. That is until he finally notices, she's staring back at him.

The boy freaks out. He doesn't want to offend anyone, especially drunken party goers. He decides it's finally time to head for the door across the room, but as soon as he moves towards it, he collides with some other drunken guy. His drink spills all down his clothes, the other guy getting none of the splash back. They apologize to each other, and the guy walks away leaving the boy alone in the party again. He looks down at what was once his favorite shirt, now potentially stained and ruined. He's angry he let his roommate talk him into this, he just looked like a dork and felt more out of place than he usually did.

“Are you going to clean up or are you just going to be a mess for everyone to see?” a voice whispers in his ear from behind.

He jumps around and finds the lady he had been staring at so intently greeting him with a smile. “Um, I, uh,-”

The woman grabs him by the wrist, “Bathroom's this way, silly.” She drags him to the hallway and opens a door, and pushes him in before coming in herself and locking the door. He stands there in the middle of the bathroom, staring at this woman in shock, unsure of what to say. She looks at him blankly, “What are you doing? Take your shirt off so we can try to save it.”

He gets nervous again, “I...uh...I don't really like being shirtless.”

The woman scoffs, “Such a child. You were about to cry in the middle of a party when you noticed your shirt was stained, take the damn thing off.”

Nerves or not, it's hard to say no when an older woman tells you to do something. "I wasn't going to cry," he mumbles as he pulls his shirt off. Before he can do anything with it, she snatches it from him, fills the sink with water, pulls a small cleaner bottle out from the bag she had been carrying under her arm, and starts working it into the shirt. “I know the guy that lives here. He's always throwing these stupid parties to feel cooler than he is. There's never anything interesting happening at these parties. Just drunken college losers.” He sits down on the side of the tub, letting the random woman do the work he didn't really know how to do. “That is, until I saw some pathetic perv about to cry in the middle of one.”

“Hey!” He yells without thinking, “I am not a perv!”

“Oh? Then why were you staring at my tits?”

“I, uh, um, I don't think that's, uh very pervy. I mean, Isn't it kind of normal?”

She turns around, a big smirk on her face. “Aw, someone's embarrassed about her perviness.”

He notices the pronoun she used, but decides to ignore it. “So, uh, can I have my shirt back? I don't feel well and I want to go home.”

“Sorry sweetie, it needs to go through the wash and dry. You can just go like that. This is basically a frat boy party, no one's gonna think a shirtless guy is weird.”

He considers it. “I'd rather not, even if my shirt is wet.”

She stares at him as if he said something incredibly stupid. “Ok, fine.” She grabs the bottom of her shirt with both hands and somehow pulls it free from her body, her breasts only concealed by a black lacy bra. She tosses the shirt at him, “There you go, a fresh shirt to go home in.”

“I c-can't wear this, it's a g-girl's shirt. They'll make fun of me...”

“Huh? Nothing about it is inherently girly. It's a concert shirt. And these dorks are so drunk they won't notice a thing.”

“I. Uh.” He's overheating. Overwhelmed again from the alcohol, the booming music, and a situation with a girl he's never been in before. But, above all else he's struggling with the realization that he's fully erect at the idea of wearing her clothes. “I. I. I can't. If peo-if people see-”

“Oh I see, wearing girl clothes turns you on, huh?”

His whole face turns red. Embarrassed is an understatement. He doesn't know how to respond. He's frozen.

“Aw, how cute. Strip.”

“WH-WHAT?!”

“I said strip. Take your pants and underwear off now.”

“N-N-NO! WHY WOULD I??”

“You're going to do what I tell you or I'm going to push you back into the hallway shirtless, and you can navigate what ever feelings that makes you feel.”

The boy's confused. That's not really a punishment. Anyone not wanting this situation would easily accept that. Even with being uncomfortable shirtless around people, he could deal with it to get out of a weird situation with a woman like this. But, despite that, he found himself standing up straight, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling them and his boxers down. His body on full display for her, his cock fully erect, which he tries to hide with his hands as his face gets incredibly red again.

“Good girl.”

“I'm not a girl!” he yells back.

“Not yet, maybe.” She reaches up her skirt, and loops her fingers around the ends of her panties and slowly pulls them down. He watches her, confused and excited, and for a split second he can see from under the skirt that she has a dick. The boy looks away, pretending not to have seen.

“Aw, adorable. I'll make a girl out of you for sure.”

“I'm not a girl!”

She sticks her hand out, her black lacy panties hanging from one finger.

“Put them on.” She says.

“WH-WHAT?? NO, I can't, absolutely not!”

Her demeanor doesn't change. She just keeps looking at him with an intense stare. “Put them on, now. I will not repeat myself again.”

Once again, it's an easy situation to walk away from. He doesn't have to listen. He can grab his clothes and go. As she said, everyone's drunk, no one will likely noticed he came out of the bathroom naked. But, as before, he does as he's told. He takes the panties from her hand, and slowly slides them up his legs, his fully erect cock making the most noticeable bulge.

“Now you won't be so concerned about wearing my shirt, will you?” He doesn't reply. He's standing there in this woman's panties, feeling emasculated.

“How are you getting home?” the woman finally asks.

“I, uh, I guess I was going to walk.”

“Oh sweetheart, not in this state you aren't. I'll drive you.” Once again, he doesn't argue, he's already so embarrassed and overwhelmed he just avoids making eye contact and nods. "Now put on your clothes.”

He pulls his jeans on over the panties and puts her shirt on, noticing that it fits him remarkably well. “She was definitely wearing this to show off her boobs” he thinks to himself. Once he's dressed, she grabs his boxers and wraps the wet, cleaned shirt in them and places them in her bag. She unlocks the door and once again, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist, his will is beaten down too much, and a ride home sounds ideal. Just as she said, none of the drunk people even notice that he's wearing her shirt, all they notice is that she's topless now. “Haha yeah I spilled a drink!” she says, which is enough to make these people nod and ignore her. No one even notices him, or the fact he's wearing her panties. A fact that's getting his cock even harder.

The woman pulls him outside and guides him until they finally reach her car. She only finally let's go of him so he can get in the passenger seat, making him feel like a little kid being lead around. He's finally free to just sit down, something he's longed for all night, he collapses into the seat, finding such comfort in her car. She gets in the driver's seat. “So, where do you live.” He mumbles the address to her, so drunk and so comfortable that he's having a hard time staying awake. She plugs the address into her phone and seems ready to go. She turns on the car, loud music comes on as she does, overwhelming the boy again. The car doesn't move. He doesn't care though, he's barely awake. The comfortable seats feel like a new home for him to melt into. And, as he's starting to drift away to his dreamland, he jolts awake, she's rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“WH-WH-WHA”

“Aw, my sweet girl, you got so excited wearing my cute panties through that crowd of people didn't you.”

“St-stop, w-what if someone sees?!”

“Then they'll see me playing with a pervy girl.”

“I'M NOT A GI-” he couldn't finish, instead erupting into a moan as her hand went beneath his jeans and stroked him through the lacy panties. The softness of the panties felt so good on him.

“That's a good girl, quiet down and let me reward you.”

Once again, he was red. He couldn't argue with her, she knew exactly what to say to shut his brain down. She's stroking at a decent pace, he can see people going in and out of the house, but none seem to turn their gaze to the car. And even if they did look, he didn't care anymore. He was so very close to popping. He needed this. He needed to cum right here, right now. But, then the feeling stopped. He looked at her pulling her hand back, “No, please I really want to cum”

She ignores him and as he tries to ask again she pushes her fingers into his mouth. “Clean my fingers, and maybe you'll earn the right to cum.” This time he wasn't embarrassed, he was frustrated. Horribly frustrated. He needed to cum and now instead he was sucking his own precum off of this woman's fingers. But, he accepted it. He wanted to cum, and she promised he might get to. So he was willing to do as he was told.

“Good girl.” He doesn't argue this time. He knew she would just embarrass him again if he tried. Plus he wanted to cum. His silence brings a bigger smirk to her face. “Now let's get you home.”

The drive home was uneventful. She was taking her time making sure she didn't get into an accident. Eventually they arrived at his apartment complex, and he lead her to the apartment itself. He unlocked the door and walked him, she followed him in. The living room was dark, but he could tell his roommate hadn't come home yet. “Take me to your room.” And he does as told.

His room isn't very interesting. No posters or anything, not much furniture, just the bed, a dresser and a tv with some video games spread around. He could tell she was disappointed by what she found, but she didn't say anything about it. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know what the next move was.

“Strip down to your panties.”

But, clearly the older woman knew what the next move was. He did as told, he took her shirt off, he took his jeans off, and he stood there in the middle of his bedroom in this woman's panties, made wet by his precum. She walks over and runs one hand through the hair on the side of his head, and with her other grabs his ass, and then starts to kiss and bite him along the neck, slowly moving up his neck. Each kiss followed by a sharp bite, each one making him grow all the more restless. He lets out soft moans, surprising himself that he can sound that way.

“Such a good girl~” she whispers.

“I'm not a girl.” The boy moans.

“Oh? You're embarrassed to show your chest to a bunch of drunken men like a girl, you've got your panties incredibly wet like a girl, and right now you're moaning like a girl.”

He blushes. “N-none of those things make someone a girl.”

The woman slips her hand under the panties, grabbing his bare ass as she responds, “That's true. But doesn't it sound more fun to be a girl? What do you have to lose by embracing this part of yourself? Why not try something new?” He moans as she starts to bite him again. He has no retort. Just desire. His cock throbbing, yet tears forming in his eyes. “Please make me uh....please make me your girl.” the girl finally says.

A big smile forms on the woman's face. “Of course, sweetie.” She pushes the girl backwards onto the bed. The woman looks down on her with such a big smile as the girl adjusts herself so she'll be more comfortable on the bed, but all her movement stops as the woman gets on top of her. The woman starts by kissing her upper chest, slowly working her way to her nipples. The girl grabs her sheets and squeezes her hands into fists as the woman sucks and bites, making her moan from pleasures she never knew she could feel. The woman takes her time, sucking and biting, eventually kissing her way to the other nipple and repeating the process. Slow, biting, sucking, kissing, pleasure.

The woman starts to move on, kissing slowly down her chest, slowly down her stomach, slowly down her crotch. The woman starts to pull the panties down, just enough for her cock to pop out, and the woman takes it into her hand and puts the head into her mouth. The girl moans at the feeling of the warm mouth on her cock. With her hand, the woman starts to jerk the girl off, while lightly sucking on her and her move her mouth back and forth. The girl's eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans the biggest moan of the night. She's never felt such ecstasy before. It's intense. So intense. She needs it. She needs to finish. She needs to cum now. “Please, please, please” she moans. “I want to cum please.” She can feel it close. She knows it's soon.

And the woman pulls the girl out of her mouth. The girl is once again frustrated, “no, p-please, don't stop please...”

“Do you think you've been a good girl tonight? Why should I let you cum?”

“Please please please I'm sorry I'll be your good girl please let me cum.” She's desperate. She'll do anything. She has never felt this good before, she doesn't want it to end like this. “Please I'll do anything you want please, I'll be a good girl for you I swear.”

The woman smiles again. She pulls off her bra, revealing her giant tits for the girl to see. She pulls the girl head into her chest, face between her tits. “How do you like the tits you were so obsessed with?” The girl doesn't know what to say. They're lovely, but the pressure in her is too intense, “please, please, please” she cries while her eyes start to form tears.

The woman let's her go and stands up next to the bed. “I don't want to hear you beg. I want you to earn your right to cum. Put your mouth to good use.” The girl never considered she might be expected to do something back. This is all so new to her, she was just riding along with what the woman did. But, she didn't feel resistant to it, she just wasn't sure what to do. Sitting on her knees, the girl was easily crotch height with the woman now. The girl slowly lifted the woman's skirt, revealing the woman's semi erect cock. The smell of the woman's sweat and cock flooded the girl's senses. And she loved it. It made her even hornier. She takes the woman into her mouth, trying to copy what the woman has done before.

The woman puts both her hands on the top of her head, “Don't overthink it, just relax.” The girl listens and tries to slow down and relax, and then the woman thrusts, her cock hitting the back of the girl's throat. She pulls back and thrusts again. The girl understands now and tries to relax, but this is completely new. But that doesn't stop her from being a good girl. “Oh babygirl, your throat is just like a fleshlight, it feels like you're made for my cock.” The girl barely hears the words, she just lets the woman have her way. The seconds become minutes, the minutes drift by as the girl loses all sense of time. She is not a boy tonight, she is this woman's toy.

The woman eventually stops thrusting, exhausted she pulls her cock from the girl's mouth. The girl can see strings of saliva and precum connecting them still. “Lay down.” the woman commands. Having learned her place, the girl does as told, laying her head on her pillow, preparing for what's to come. “You've been such a good girl, I think it's time I helped you cum.” Excitement wells up in the girl. She's waited all night for this.

The woman crawls onto the bed and stands on her knees, pushing herself between the girl's legs. She puts her cock on the girl's cock, and thrusts. The girl lets out a loud moan. And again, the woman thrusts. And, again. And again until she's developed a rhythm. The girl realizes she can see the woman's face like this. She can see her face strain and hear her moan with each thrust. This turns the girl on even more. The woman notices the girl staring, and slows her rhythm as she pushes herself forward to shove her tongue into the girl's mouth. The girl doesn't know what to do and just let's her do it. The pleasure is slower, but the pleasure is there. The woman lifts her head back up, resuming her previous posture and previous rhythm, causing the girl to let out long, deep moans. The pressure is coming back, the intensity in her cock is building, “I'm g-going to c-cum” she moans out.

“Mmm, cum for me sweet girl,” the woman replies. Finally with the permission, the girl finally feels herself explode. Her cum shooting out of her and covering them both. The girl breathes heavy, nearly in tears, “th-thank you thank you.” The girl can't tell if the woman replied, her senses fade, the world around her fades, and she melts into the bed, deep into sleep.

The sounds of chirping birds wake the girl up. She's in bed, covered in cum, in a girl's lacy panties. The woman she met at the party before is putting her top on when she notices the girl woke up. “Oh hi sweetheart, I need to go, stuff to do. You should go back to sleep if you don't need to get up early.”

The girl shakes her head, she has no where to be. “But..I don't want you to go...”

“Awww,” she coos at the girl, “but I have to my sweet girl.” The woman picks up her bag and pulls a pen out of it. She looks around the room for something to write on, finally deciding to just write it on the girl's arm. “This is my number. Text me sometime.” The girl nods, excited. The party worked, she got a friend!

She escorts the woman to the living room, but before the woman leaves, she reaches into her bag again and pulls out two pill bottles and puts them in the girl's hand. "Take two of these a day.”

“What do they do?” The girl asks.

The woman motions at her body, “they do this. It'll make you the girl you've wanted to be.”

“I'm not a girl.” It was automatic. She didn't even intend to say it.

“Ok, ok, girl adjacent. You can be whatever you want, but take those pills and it'll do it for you. I have extras so I might as well give them to you.”

The woman opens the door and as she exits the apartment, she turns around, “Also, you're going to clean those panties and give them back. It's a matching set, damn it, I can't just lose them” The girl, realizing finally that she's still covered in cum and in panties, goes red and finally closes the door in a panic.

The girl goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before going back to her room. She stares at the pill bottles given to her. She opens the one bottle and takes a small blue pill out. She stares at it, trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I'm not a girl.” she says to herself, just before washing the blue pill down her throat.

[arachine]

something about non-traditional family dynamics with gojo just speaks to me…

includes :: co-parent!gojo, rich boy!gojo, mentions of pregnancy + leaky nips hehe

note :: this is just pure brainrot, started thinking about him in class today and i needed to get this out of my brain!

link to part two + link to part three

i’d like to think that after he knocks you up in college, the two of you take it upon yourselves to get married because, “‘it’s the right thing to do.’” and so, for a few years, you do the whole marriage thing—the family thing.

no longer were you the twenty-something-year-old who partied hard every weekend, and studied until the break of dawn every school night.

no, now you were the twenty-something-year-old who fixed bottles at odd hours in the night, whose nipples leaked through all her favorite tops, who had a husband that paid a mortgage and kissed her goodbye before he went off to work for the company passed down to him.

and after some time, things finally start to fall into place—your little family.

the baby gets bigger. you go through the terrible twos, of course, and the teenage-threes, but once she hits five, it’s suddenly pie in the sky—and god, it feels like you can finally start to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

so, you and gojo have one more. one more girl that’s precious, and smart, and quick-tongued, and every bit of her dad as she is you.

things are touch and go for awhile, but for the most part it’s...easy, smooth. that is, until married life starts to feel like a task, and your husband starts to feel like your roommate instead of your companion.

conversations becomes brief, the bed becomes colder, morning kisses are exchanged for nods of acknowledgement, and you can’t even remember the last time either of you desired each other…

one day though, the two of you come to a mutual decision to separate. you spend the night talking, and talking, and talking. you talk about things. memories—before and after. you even talk about your mis-comings, and if things could’ve gone differently had either of you did ‘this, this, and that’.

when you tell the girls, you’re half expecting them to be upset, but all they can think about is how, “‘they’ll get twice the amount of gifts during holidays’” — at least, according to your oldest who heard that from a kid in her class with separated parents.

a few years pass after your separation and now the both of you have come to a place where you can just be...friends. it was weird, at first—dropping your kids off to their 'other home'. walking them up to the grandiose sky-rise apartment building that's always bustling with people who've got places to be, and working class people to probably torture—but that's neither here, nor there.

gojo's waiting in the lobby. he's leaned up against the side of the elevator, dressed down in all black athleisure, and he's sporting that damn cheesy grin that you find yourself missing lately.

"hey girls," he greets, lowering down to his haunches and opening his arms for hugs, "oof—big hugs, almost knocked me over! missed me that much, huh?"

while the three of them get their hugs out of the way, you stand there idly watching, rocking back and forth on the balls of your heels.

"hey," he finally acknowledges you, "how was the drive? they got everything they need?"

"it was fine, and yep! they insisted on packing their own bags like big girls but i checked them," you say, before whispering, "and then repacked them."

he laughs at that, and then grabs their suitcases.

"but yeah, i should get going before traffic hits. if you need anything, let me know, and if you need anything," you drop down to your knees, "mommy's only a call away, okay?"

the two of them nod, "okay, mommy!"

"good...now come on, hugs and kisses!" you pull them in, getting enough kisses for two-weeks time. eventually, you pull away—albit, reluctantly, and wave your goodbyes.

the three of them watch you walk away, and when you're finally out of ear-shot, gojo utters a 'miss that'.

"miss what, daddy?"

"uh-huh," he clears his throat, "daddy didn't say anything..."

"liar, you miss mommy. don't you?" the youngest grins, all cheeky and knowing. gojo rolls his eyes—not out of annoyance, but because of how much they reminded him of himself. much like he, nothing ever got past those two...and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. right now, though? it's gonna be a good thing because he needs to know if-

"does mommy have a new boyfriend?"

"why?" the oldest answers, squinting her eyes in suspicion.

"jeez kid, just answer the question."

she ponders for a second, then extends her hand out, opening and closing it in a fast manner. gojo pouts, then takes out his wallet to put a five dollar bill on it.

she doesn't budge.

"oh, c'mon! i'm your father!" he pouts, but acquiesces and pulls out another five, "fine, you little brat."

with a smile on her face, she stuffs the bills in her front pocket and nods her head.

"wha-really?" he gasps, "is he better looking than me? how old is he? is he younger than daddy? is he richer than daddy? what's he do for work?"

ignoring his questions, she only extends her hand out again.

"i'm not giving you any more money, so we can settle this with some ice cream or nothing."

she ponders for a second time before nodding. "ice cream works for me."

"you little...c'mon get on the elevator."

20 floors in and the questions never stop coming.

[astonmartinii]

ultimate wing man | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x horner!reader y/n is notoriously single, and her dad decides to take it into his own hands.

masterlist

if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by christianhorner, danielricciardo and 603,561 others

yourusername: galentines was a must this year

view all comments

user1: this girl cute and rich how come no man has come in for her?

yourusername: i ask myself that everyday tbf i am a catch 🎣

user2: i need to be her friend asap

christianhorner: looking lovely darling as usual

yourusername: thank you papa

yourbff1: thank you for the champagne father horner

yourbff2: thank you for driving to london to pick us up at 2am father horner

yourbff3: sorry for throwing up in the porsche father horner

christianhorner: no worries girls, all will be forgiven if you convince y/n to go on the date i set up for her

yourusername: will you stopppppppp i just got out of a relationship ur not gonna be grandpa for a good fucking while

christianhorner: you can be the one to tell your mum that

yourusername: please your ego can't take being called grandpa

user4: so what i'm hearing is i need to be friends with y/n to get my nights out paid for by christian horner

user5: i know yall hate christian but his relationships with his kids kinda make me like him

user6: no i agree with you, it's super cute and you can't handle that he's just good at his job

maxverstappen1: oh i see, @danielricciardo why didn't we get our tabs covered?

danielricciardo: clearly aren't loved as much here :(

yourusername: i mean i'm his literal flesh and blood

maxverstappen1: but we make him money ???

yourusername: and i spend it?

danielricciardo: so we're funding the galentines benders?

yourusername: eh probably, i do have a job but i'd rather spend other people's money lol

user7: she's so real

user8: she is my professor of girl maths

christianhorner

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 408,943 others

tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo

christianhorner: had to get the grill out for this bank holiday weekend with the family

view all comments

user10: christian referring to max and dan as family sergio i am so sorry

user11: the state of the seasoning makes me think that sergio dodged a bullet

yourusername: thank you papa but disappointed not to see you wearing the apron i got you for christmas

christianhorner: i'm sorry y/n but i'm not going to wear a "this chef wants to fuck toto wolff" apron at a family event

yourusername: shame, you wear daniel's merch all the time

danielricciardo: awwww christian i'm blushing

user12: i'm sorry christian horner owns a "this chef wants to fuck toto wolff" apron and we haven't seen it

user13: y/n horner you are a national treasure for real

maxverstappen1: woah who are those sexy guys in the last picture?

yourusername: the way i can't escape yall even at family events

maxverstappen1: not our fault ur dad loves us

danielricciardo: though there are definite perks

christianhorner: my cooking skills?

danielricciardo: sure...

user14: christian's obsession with daniel needs to be studied

yourusername: i think it's just a horner thing tbf

user15: HUH?

user16: i mean who isn't obsessed with daniel

liked by yourusername

user17: to be honest i would love for y/n and daniel to be a thing i am TIRED of constantly reading about how her latest bf has cheated on her

user18: for real that girl is in the trenches all the time she needs a good guy

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, alexalbon and 650,450 others

yourusername: not really the dress for a pasta dinner but look at the material

view all comments

user22: miss ma'am i thought we were a no on the dating thing for a while

yourusername: i'm dumb i know but i have a good feeling about this one !!

user23: i think i've seen this film before

yourusername: have some faith my dad picked him so it's not my terrible taste

maxverstappen1: wait so you actually went on the date your dad set up for you?

yourusername: uh yeah when you have taste this bad you need intervention

maxverstappen1: you said it not me

yourusername: you said nothing every time i brought them to the garage

maxverstappen1: not to your face lol i was trying to be nice in front of your dad

yourusername: hmmmmmm well part of me thinks you guys won't have any complaints about this one

user23: i hate that i am so invested in this

alexalbon: so the date happened and lily and i still haven't gotten the debrief yet? i see how it is.

yourusername: bro i just got home and sat down give me some time

alexalbon: let me put the kettle on and then call us

yourusername: i can't promise i can tell you who it was just yet

lilymunhe: you're such a tease !!!

yourusername: gentleman don't kiss and tell

user24: walk with me: christian set this date up, christian loves daniel, daniel and the guy in the picture both have tattoos, daniel usually comments on all of y/n's posts but is silent on this one

user25: get a life (i believe you 100%).

danielricciardo

liked by christianhorner, yourusername and 1,209,667 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: enchante

view all comments

user26: WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

user27: daniel really said fuck y/n's soft launch

maxverstappen1: YES the garage owe me $50

yourusername: you bet on who my date was?

maxverstappen1: well i bet even though it was the most obvious thing in the world who your dad would choose

yourusername: my dad has good taste?

user28: it's annoying me how cute this is

user29: i need it to be me next time

yourbff1: father horner can you matchmake for me next please, anyone on the grid will work

christianhorner: my days of being cupid are over unfortunately, pulling this off was way too stressful

user30: you telling me horner gets more stressed over setting his daughter up rather than whole ass races

yourusername: you're lucky you're sexy i had the whole soft launch planned out

danielricciardo: my sexiness has gotten me out of a lot in life

yourusername: it won't get you out of this family dinner though

danielricciardo: oh please your dad is only having dinner so he can see me

yourusername: unfortunately true, at least i love you as well now

danielricciardo: you always did, don't lie

yourusername: yeah but i don't want to inflate your ego any more

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 803,459 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

maxverstappen1: someone save me from the constant torture of third wheeling

view all comments

user32: max is such a mood, i too become suicidal around any happy couple

yourusername: i don't remember you complaining when we literally made you dinner and hung out with you all night because you were "bored and lonely and wanted to annoy us"

maxverstappen1: *annoy my favourites

danielricciardo: we're well aware we're your favourites, we're the only ones who will tolerate you

maxverstappen1: well when you put it like that it makes me sad

yourusername: nooooo maxy we love you

user33: max using a meme of himself is peak max verstappen behaviour i can't lie

landonorris: wait so where was my invitation?

yourusername: this wasn't an invite only event it was me and daniel trying to have an evening in

maxverstappen1: but i thought you liked that i bought jimmy and sassy :(

yourusername: I LOVE THEM PLEASE HELP ME CONVINCE DANIEL TO GET A CAT

danielricciardo: i love you so much but we can barely feed ourselves and max so maybe we shouldn't be in charge of another living creature

yourusername: can we at least cat sit :(

danielricciardo: of course honey

user34: oh to be drinking wine on the couch with my boy friend daniel ricciardo

yourusername

liked by christianhorner, charles_leclerc and 780,563 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: thank you dad, you picked a good one x

view all commments

user35: i'm so jealous rn don't hit me up

danielricciardo: i think you picked THE ONE

yourusername: he's never going to shut up about this but i'll deal with it to be with you

danielricciardo: i'm blushing y/n

yourusername: i can make you do a lot more than blush

maxverstappen1: CHILDREN PRESENT

user36: this shit is like a straight up fairytale, christian should actually go into professional matchmaking

user37: girl yeah this match was made in heaven but we all know it's because christian LOVES daniel as well

user38: he's been gagging for daniel to be his son in law since like 2014

landonorris: thank god this happened, this man was PINING for so fucking long

danielricciardo: okay like no need to blast me

yourusername: omg you pined too, suddenly i'm not as much of a loser as i once thought

danielricciardo: you were never a loser babe

landonorris: maybe you were if you had a crush on him in 2014

danielricciardo: LANDO I WAS A CATCH IN 2014

yourusername: you've always been a catch babe don't worry

christianhorner: i know what i'm doing, i'm glad you're finally happy

yourusername: thank you dad xx

danielricciardo: thank you soon to be dad xx

user39: WHAT

danielricciardo

liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1 and 1,304,766 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: i drove in your dad's wedding, but it'll be ours next

view all comments

user39: i think i heard christian's screams of joy all the way from the other side of the world

christianhorner: so happy for you two

danielricciardo: thank you so much for having faith in me

christianhorner: i know you'll treat her well and i know she'll treat you well, i'm excited to have you in the family

yourusername: awwww dad you're such a sap

maxverstappen1: do i need to marry into the family to still be invited to horner events?

christianhorner: no you're still invited max

yourusername: dad's golden boys will always have invites so you're safe max - bring seb to the next one too

user40: not all of the golden boys having championships other than daniel

danielricciardo: still ended up with the best prize in the end

yourusername: DANNY oh wow....

danielricciardo: not wrong though, i have no regrets because it all led to you

landonorris: @christianhorner i am painfully single please help

christianhorner: i'm not a miracle worker

yourusername: horners take no prisoners

note: pls enjoy this lil one, i did this as a palate cleanser before i get to p3 of into the arms of another and all the dragging that's about to come

[denwritesandcries]

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog ​​happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – ​​everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog ​​left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog ​​to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ gossip girl (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem reader

summary: sorry martin fam, the mercedes man is mine

tw : fluff

fc : georgia palmer

a/n : thank you so much to @evasmlp for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, fernandoalonso and others

martininmartin doing my PR duties by providing you with pookie nando 🧸ྀི

view comments

user1 WE LOVE YOU ADMINNN 🫶🏻🫶🏻

user2 Nando was forced to this 🤫

user3 not his fault he was born in the wrong generation

user4 WE FOUND THE THIRD MEMBER OF WRONG DIRECTION 😚

astonmartinf1 we love pookie lonso

liked by martininmartin

user5 can we appreciate the username !?

user6 admin, do you even a martin to enjoy martini’s ?

martininmartin I work there 🫦

user7 WHATS WITH THE FREAKY EMOJI !?

user8 she said driving or riding, I do it all 🫂

fernandoalonso I thought we were not sharing it

martiniinmartin sorry

user9 the response -

user10 here is some Vaseline for the dry ass response

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

martininmartin sorry martin fam 🫧🫶🏻🤍 ( can anyone blame me though )

view comments

user1 nope, can’t blame you

user2 THE LOOKS MA’AM!?

user3 models should be glad she choose f1

user4 THIRSTING OVER LEWIS NOW

user5 chat, the visuals of y/n and Lewis 🫦

user6 I wonder how nando feels

user7 ma’am said I only like people with wdc 👀

fernandoalonso can you focus on what you are there for ?

martininmartin posting more pookie photos of you right away

user8 I could feel him saying that lady even I have wdc

user9 why is the jacket familiar ?

user10 IS IT LEWIS'S!?

user11 nope, it's just his collection with puma

user12 talk about rich fans

liked by lewishamilton, user1, user2 and others

martininmartin chat, how do I get him to look at me like that

view comments

user1 HAVE YOU LOOKED AT YOURSEFL !?

user2 IF LOOKS COULD KILL, WE WOULDN’T WANT TO BE DAN HUMPHREY

user3 GOSSIP GIRL XOXO

lewishamilton I will make sure to visit the martin paddock!

martininmartin of course Lewis !

user4 I can just tell by looking she was shaking while typing that

user5 she is probably screaming in her pillow right now

user6 WELCOME BACK QUEEN SERENA

user7 I got 99 problems but good looks ain't one 🫡

liked by lewishamilton, user1, user2, user3 and others

martininmartin I think I strayed from employer team ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻🪷 ₊˚

view comments

user1 ma’am realised that mercedes don’t pay her bills

user2 but a certain mercedes man plays her heart

user3 ferrari *

lewishamilton I am glad you liked the hat !

martininmartin anything given by the fashion king 👑

user4 WE SKIPPED A WHOLE NETFLIX SHOW HERE!?

user5 SIR HAMILTON GIFTED YOU A CAP !?

user6 preparing for the marriage right away

user7 their kids would never complain about fashion 🫡

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and others

martininmartin “Three words, eight letters. Say it and I'm yours" ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ

view comments

user1 AAAAAAAA

user2 THE LOOKS

user3 MOTHER FATHER

user4 MOM DAD

user5 MOMMY DADDY

user6 we witnessed her going from fangirl to girlfriend real quick

user7 the couple we never knew we needed

lewishamilton I wonder who is the photographer

martininmartin a random guy

lewishamilton Lewis, I NEED PICTURES OF OUR FIRST DATE WITH THE SUNSET !!

martininmartin Stop Exposing Me In Public

lewishamilton the pictures would come out good when the view is smashing

liked by martininmartin

user8 LEWIS THE RIZZLER !?

user9 not Lewis thirst commenting

user10 this proved that all men shut up with their wife

user11 the caps sentence was enough to shut Lewis

mercedesamgf1 I guess now we are family right ?

liked by martininmartin

tg : @bloodyymaryyy @sainzzreputaticn

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shoulder II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: They're all hoverers

Sometimes, you think that your family can do no wrong.

Your mothers are loving. Your girlfriend adores you. Everyone gets on with each other, even though Magda and Talia pretend they don't.

Other times, you just want to live alone somewhere on an island with no other people around to fuss over you.

"Are you sure you don't want me to adjust your sling?" Talia asks, lips pursed in thought," I saw you wincing a second ago."

"I was wincing because my painkillers are wearing off."

After your win with Lyon, you had decided to travel back to Sweden with your mothers to finish off your recovery there. You'd told Talia to just return to Spain, to make the most of her days off from football before joining up with the Spanish team.

She'd refused and insisted on coming with you to make sure you're okay.

Nearly a week in now and all three of them were driving you up the wall.

"Should I get you more?" Her girlfriend asks and you roll your eyes, leaning forward to peck her cheek.

"You're sweet, Talia," You say," But I can't take anymore for at least another hour."

She pouts. "Is there nothing I can do to help? Do you want some food or something?"

"No food!" You hear Pernille shout from the kitchen," This is almost done!"

You rolls your eyes.

She's been slaving away on the stove since you woke up.

She'd already had breakfast prepared and lunch already prepped and ready to be cooked. She's making it now but she's also been making it for the past hour now.

You're pretty sure she's cooking dinner simultaneously but you're not too sure. That's the only reason it could be taking this long.

"Are you sure?" You ask," Not even a little snack?"

"No," Pernille says," Just a few more minutes."

You're a little worried, truthfully.

As a child, Magda had always been the one cooking the big meals and Pernille helped by doing little things like putting broccoli in the oven or taking the meat out when asked.

So, you're a little apprehensive at what Pernille's cooking now.

You hope someone gave her a recipe to follow rather than letting her make something that appeared in her head.

"Here," Magda says, appearing at your other side," To tide you over."

A handful of magic stars are placed in your hands.

You used to love these as a kid but they were only ever really bought when you went to the cinema because you never liked popcorn.

You don't know where Magda bought them in Sweden but you're grateful as you throw them into your mouth.

You think Pernille thinks you're going to ruin your lunch, like you're a little kid again that has eyes bigger than her stomach.

It's sweet, you think but a little annoying.

"Have some more," Magda says, shaking more from the bag straight into your hands," You need to keep your strength up."

"I hurt my arm-"

"Dislocated it," Talia corrects.

"-I'm not sick."

"Having chocolate doesn't have anything to do with sickness," Magda says," It's just making sure you have energy."

"You're hovering," You tease and Magda makes an offended noise.

"If I'm hovering then what's Talia doing?!"

"Hovering," You deadpan," You're both hovering."

"We're making sure you're okay," Talia says," You'd fault us for that?"

"No," You say," I fault you for being so overbearing about it. If I feel bad or if I ache or if I need some comfort, I can tell you. Don't you trust me?"

Talia's expression softens a little and she smiles.

"Yeah. I trust you."

"And Morsa?" You say, turning to Magda," Do you trust me too?"

Magda purses her lips, not responding for a few seconds. "I..." She sighs. "Yeah but you have to tell us, alright? No trying to deal with it on your own."

You roll your eyes. "Fine."

"Good girl," Magda says, a sot kiss pressed to your temple.

"Alright." Pernille appears out of nowhere. "Lunch is served!"

It smells alright, the soup that has taken her an hour to make.

You force down a spoonful.

It's horrifically salty.

"How is it?" Pernille asks.

You force a smile onto your face.

"It's amazing."

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”