#I'm not qualified but here you go lol
Note
I love your art so much, you’re part of the reason I started drawing again. Your old art is cool, and your new art just has so much emotion and detail in it, it deserves so much praise. Do you have any advice on how you upskilled so well into the amazing art you do today? I really want to learn to be skilled like you are and improve to your level
Dude, thank you so much. I'm super flattered but also have major Impostor Syndrome right now lol.
The biggest thing that helped me was getting a drawing tablet and learning how to use digital art programs like Canvas or Procreate. I am a very messy artist - my traditional sketchbooks were always a nightmare because of how often I erase shit, so being able to use programs where I can simply undo or reposition a line was a game-changer.
I'm also incredibly indecisive and struggle with linework, but I found some great brushes that mimic the effects of ink pens and watercolor so I can achieve the messy, painted look. (This Sketchbook set and lineart set are the two I use the most)
Use as many references as you need! Gather a bunch of base poses to get the hang of proportions and anatomy (my go-to artist is Mellon_Soup. Screenshots from movies and shows work great too)
Try out posing tools like this one
A fun exercise that helps me is to paste a photo or drawing on one layer, and then on the layer above, sketch the main aspects in 30 seconds. Delete the first layer and then work solely off of the sketch (and yes it will absolutely look spooky and/or silly). If you need more time at first, start with 60 seconds and work your way down as you get the hang of it:
Take pictures of yourself in the poses you want to draw
Find artists with a style that resonates with you and study their work
The Multiply tool on Procreate is AMAZING for adding depth to artwork. I use this on almost everything. Add a slightly darker color on top of the whole set of layers, switch it to Multiply, and then go in with the eraser to mark the areas where the light hits
Keep practicing, no matter how shitty you think it looks! Just keep going!!
Uh I think that's it? I'll add more if I remember anything else.
I wish you the best of luck on your art journey! <3
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snippet of tpac ch 11
who wants to see bruce being bullied? doesn't matter, here you go
...
“—per my last missive, Sir: if you want this equation to exist, then the principles of linear algebra must necessarily exist.” Korvin waves a thin stack of ruled paper—covered with sprawling formulas, symbols, bullet lists, and patchwork paragraphs on both sides—like he’s trying to banish a demon. That demon, in this instance, is “Batman being stubborn.”
Bruce looks taken aback, like something is happening outside of his set parameters. From how Dick tried to explain it: apparently, Bruce and Korvin have a whole “pen pals” routine going on, and it’s still thriving despite them sharing the same living quarters for the past few months?
Do they actually waste stamps on this? Where do they hide the envelopes?
(Dick raised his hands in surrender at that line of questioning.)
Tim knows Bruce is a creature of habit and standards of operation—of which he completely respects because it’s efficient—but his staunch adherence to routine is next-level neurotic. Normally, he'd be furious about being sidetracked.
Yet, Korvin’s thrown caution to the wind and got so mad over math, like the fussy nerd that he tries to hide being, that he’s directly confronting Bruce—full “David vs Goliath” vibes here. And he's winning.
“I trust your work,” Bruce finally says, holding his hand out for the papers.
That only makes Korvin’s face twitch harder. “Sure. Why not. Everyone needs a bit of make-believe. Escapism in these trying times and shitass economy.”
“‘Shitass economy,’” Cass murmurs, of course latching onto the bit that everyone reacts to.
Babs sighs in disgust.
...
#verm bits#on tpac#phd-verse#i'm running my exprs i swear ok#literally logging my results like an old-timey scientist#and i have to bc i know how much time i'd waste making a script to perform my experiments and trying to optimize it#now is not the time#^^i also want to make it clear: tbf to bruce korvin would normally not yell at him (he'd be too terrified to)#(nor did korvin realize he was being condescending to bruce after the batplane incident)#but pen pals bruce&korvin are very different from actual interaction bc it's usually so far removed#think of the cognitive dissonance to actually receive an apology letter from fucking bruce wayne like wth lol#(and the whole experience is so surreal that the both of them just. keep going. bc why not.)#so they just start writing about whatever or digging into topics following up on a previous letter#and the last few letters bruce was pestering korvin about the anti-life equation and why he thinks it's dumb#to which korvin says ''may i refer you to prof gilbert strang who can maybe show you an intro to lin alg for free online. he is qualified''#but bruce is v stubborn and tackles other comments korvin made about the eq#until korvin's just done and here we are#after this they'll start talking about ytube video essays or something
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so i went to reblog some fanart earlier and started to tag it #oh this is. incredible actually, and then paused and thought, @self why the 'actually.' what is that adverb conveying. and i contemplated it for a bit, and finally concluded: well, shit. it's reflexive deprecation.
the thing is, deprecation is my starting position pretty much always, and that's a problem in itself, but mostly my problem; but when you're talking abt somebody else's work, and you start backing defensively away from imagined negativity before anyone's even actually voiced any? you may think you're playing bodyguard, but in reality you're the vanguard of the assault, opening a wedge for enemy forces to strike.
i was talking a couple of weeks ago abt seeing ppl tag that kristin sue lucas name-multiplied-by-one post with tags like 'this is art To Me' vel sim., and honestly i think it's a similar sort of reflex—i think exposure to the tumblr vernacular often leads people (very much including me!) to produce turns of phrase like this, that ultimately serve to convey roughly
'i, a clever girlblogger,¹ am, yeah, engaging with this frivolous hai pollai²-coded material; but my relationship to it, unlike that of most she-ple, is Intellectual and Analytical and Examined! and to make that clear, i'll be dropping in these little verbal particles from time to time, in order to distinguish my own, elevated examination of the subject from the state of risible naivete³ i'm implicitly ascribing to the other, more ordinary audience members i'm conjuring up only to instantly put down—but like, it's fine, i'm a free-and-easy girlblogger(TM), so you can't think i'd ever deliberately propagate establishmentarian prejudices! never mind the effect my rhetoric might subconsciously be having, on me or on anyone else…'
and i think this framing is worth squinting at, and worth attempting to excise from one's speech and from one's mindset, because when you get right down to it? it's just yet another insidious manifestation of respectability politics, that's gotten people to adopt it via the cuckoo-chick strategy of positioning itself as cutesy tumblr idiolect.
and like, circling back around to that fanart i mentioned at the outset: yeah, the tag did feel weirdly prosodically truncated to me without that 'actually'! but this way, if the artist ends up seeing my discussion of their work in their notes, they won't be getting slapped in the face with a wet dead fish first, so like. what's more important, you know?
⸻
¹ ""(gender neutral)""
² https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoi_polloi in the feminine, if i haven't totally fumbled my declensions…
³ phrasing nicked from a comment of @proudheron's.
#anyway like. this for sure isn't the definitive post abt this#and really what i'm getting at is just another facet of 'self-deprecation isn't usually actually separable from disparaging others'#but i do think there's a particular subtle flavor of it here that's worth sticking under the microscope in its own right#for those of us who may have breathed it in without noticing‚ and now be spreading it‚ again without noticing‚ in our turn#i mean. obvs also extremely possible i just *think* i've put my finger on something important bc it's late!#but like. imagine tagging‚ idk‚ the winged victory or sth with 'this is art. to me'#it would be SUCH a weird rhetorical move! but consider: it's *always* a weird rhetorical move‚ actually.#bc fundamentally it's a speech pattern that's seeking affirmation of yr own taste/authority/status as Critic#at the expense of the thing you've evaluated—#like‚ you're going 'i think this is neat!! (but that might just be me 😔)'#and then other girlbloggers are supposed to be like 'yeah no i totally see what you mean!!!' and affirm you! but the thing is—#the '(but that might just be me 😔)' part doesn't just undercut yr discernment‚ it undercuts the praise *predicated* on yr discernment#so it's like. you're dissing yourself in a way that's supposed to earn you affirmation‚ which. is fucked up actually‚ lol :)#but—it's one thing when you do it to yourself; when you incorporate it into the foundations of yr compliment#you've actually totally undermined that compliment and rendered it an insult#(not to mention undermined the idea that the thing might have merit in itself‚ beyond yr authority to bestow or withhold—#like. if you're speaking in terms of what's good/deep/Art/&c To You? you've effectively already ceded the main field of universality#and retreated to defend only yr own walled garden—and implied you'll cede even that small ground if it's disputed)#so like. in the context of yr social relationship with yr followers‚ those sorts of qualifiers are affirmation-seeking moves—#though like. also ones that reinforce yr rhetorical passive-victim positionality‚ in a way you shd perhaps consider *not* reinforcing—#but in the context of yr interaction with an OP? they're negging.#and i just think like. i get it and i'm @-ing myself here as much as anyone else! but it's not‚ like‚ a healed-world way to behave. lol.#so like. consider: tagging things 'art' without the cutesy little qualifiers. praising things without the hedging.#i'm not at all good at that but. i'm going to try.#metatumbling#language#the psyche#'close readings no one needed for 300‚ alex'#(extremely tempted to just scrap this writeup tbh but like. the thinking was worth doing‚ so a record of it is worth keeping)
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She Says She's Depressed
There's a certain kind of rejecting my mind does whenever I think I might be in the throes of depression.
As if it can't be that, surely not that, because everything is fine. I wake up, do some movements to remind my body to keep itself in check, eat well and drink water, maybe read something for a while, and everything is fine.
But the pit in my stomach, the sudden sinking feeling of my heart stops me in my tracks whenever I recognize it.
It feels like the last time I'd felt this way, which was months ago and since then I've been working on myself in therapy, and I've felt fine.
But then I read about a self-exiled journalist, how at one point of moving across Europe he texted his then partner that he was lonely, so lonely that he didn't even care about a sexual sort of intimacy anymore, he only wanted "somebody to stroke his hair"...and it wrecks me because I understand the feeling.
And then I feel like the most horrid person alive because somehow I make an exiled journalist's hardships about myself and my more than priviliged life in which I actually have never and probably could never feel that kind of loneliness.
So I tell myself, "everything is fine".
Everything is fine because a line in the book I'm reading just made me break out in laughter. Everything is fine because I laughed at a joke I read on the internet. Everything is fine because there are times where I do feel fine.
But then the protagonist of the book I'm reading is talking about traveling to Europe with her friends the summer after her first year in college and I have a pang of longing in my chest. I remember that not only have I never had that experience, but that I probably never will. I don't have many friends, and with the way things are I won't ever be able to travel unless someone very generous and very fictional just hands me a large sum of money.
And then I remember how I feel so far away, so inadequate of being something to people that I'm convinced my presence is merely tolerated--and then I'm slowly isolating myself.
From my family, my friends across all mediums, even from the hobbies that give me such comfort.
I feel terrible for having such a sour expression around my family. Like I can't tolerate them. Even though I love them. It feels like I'm hurting them.
I feel like a shell of a human.
I remember that I haven't been able to write anything "worthy" in a long time, and then I get mad at myself because what the fuck is a "worthy" writing anyway? Isn't the mere fact that it came from something as intangible as the mind and then put on paper, or just even thought of make it something?
Nevertheless, it scares me that I won't be able to write anything of note again whenever I pick up the pen and still end up with a blank page.
It makes me feel like an outsider.
I tell myself that it's fine.
I know it's fine.
But then I take a look at everything. And everything is not fine.
There's a stench, a terrible rottenness, a decay that I feel powerless to stop.
And so that tiny bit of effort to just hold on slowly fades.
And the moment I start thinking about what the point of it all is the chirping of a sparrow brings a smile to my lips that I'm unable to stop.
One step outside, one moment of feeling the wind sweep around me from head to toe, and I feel like letting go. Before anyone can ask me if I'm okay, I let the tears run free and wait for the inevitable numbness that'll set in, its heaviness waited for with a certain excitement.
But I must feel fine because I still make conversations with friends (I try to). I text someone about something that reminded me of them, ask another if she's feeling better after getting bit by a really nasty mosquito while traveling another part of the globe, sending one a picture that I'm sure will make them laugh.
So everything must be fine.
Calling it depression feels like I'm trying to be part of something that I'm not. Like I'm intruding on a group of people in which every single person knows I'm not being authentic.
And I know it doesn't work that way.
Or, rather, I know that the thought process of depression works exactly that way for some. Like we're impostors even in this aspect of life.
As if, if I tell someone that I feel depressed they'll recount that to someone else with "she says she's depressed"--like what I said is an alleged statement.
And maybe it is.
Because I do feel fine.
I do stop to look at the tree I planted whenever I pass by it on my way home.
I laugh at jokes and I dance to the music I listen to.
I get excited for new art to come.
I also cry because I feel like I won't amount to anything in this life.
I cry because I feel lonely, even though loneliness has never scared me until now. Even though I still find some comfort in it.
I cry because I can't attain the life I crave to live.
And then the shame comes that I'm complaining about what is still a good life. These maybe aren't things to even complain about because there are others that have it way worse in life. (I can hear my therapist saying that I'm minimizing my feelings--and I want to say "No, actually, because I feel like the shame thing is pretty big.")
I mean to say that I'm still grateful for this life. I don't want to seem like I'm not. (My therapist is in my head right now, "Those things can coexist; just because you're feeling depressed doesn't make you ungrateful. There isn't a tally kept on people who have 'good' lives but still feel depressed." "You're not an asshole for feeling this way" is what I want her to say, which makes me feel like more of an asshole somehow.)
Anyway.
These words make it feel like I'm not alone in this, and I know I'm not.
Even if it's not fine now, it will be. At some point. Maybe for a minute today, or an hour tomorrow, or not at all for a while.
Because the sparrows will still chirp, the tree I planted will still stand tall, and there will be more pictures that will hopefully make a friend smile.
#i have no idea what this is#does it qualify as an essay?#let's call it an essay practice#or some stream of consciousness bullshit that i felt like putting here#i know i'm going to look back at this and be like “do you even know english?” and “ugh you pretentious bitch” lol#tw: depression talk
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request
could you please make a pierre gasly insta au or a max one. You don't need to and if you don't want to please just ignore this comment. Stay Hydrated Love.
pairing...max verstappen x christian horner's daughter!reader
summary...in which yn promised she would never fall for a driver until a certain driver made her take back her promise
{instagram}
yourusername
liked by christianhorner, kymillman and 1,098,675 others
yourusername my favorite kind of weekend 🤍
comments:
fan1 love to see her in the paddock
christianhorner you look pretty happy for someone who didn't want to come to last year's races
yourusername no need to expose me like that, dad-
fan2 loved your look this today!
lilymhe bestie looking good!
yourbestfriend1 missed you this weekend 😢
yourusername i'll be back soon!!
{instagram}
enews
liked by maxvfan1234, maxy4eva and 109,879 others
enews yn horner was photographed walking in the f1 paddock ahead of the austrian grand prix. the brunette was seen engrossed in the practice sessions, qualifying, as well as the race, this comes as rumors swirl that she may be rooting for someone special. link in bio for more.
comments:
fan1 love her fit!!
fan2 no offence enews but get your stories straight, our queen could never!!
fan3 someone show enew's admin yn's iconic tweet from a few years ago 🙄
fan4 istg imma send them the post 🙄
{twitter}
{instagram}
yourusername
liked by therealgerihalliwell, maxverstappen1 and 209,583 others
yourusername reunited with the besties 🤍
comments:
yourbestfriend1 girls' trip finally left the groupchat!
yourusername who would've thought 😂
yourbestfriend2 need to do this again sometime!
fan1 ahhh dream girls' trip!
fan2 am I the only one who realised max liked her post??
fan3 i did too, probs nothing though
fan2 hm we'll see
therealgerihalliwell glad you enjoyed your time away!
yourusername no, THANK YOU for convincing dad to let me go!
christianhorner hey! i had my reasons
yourusername sure dad..
{instagram}
yourusername has added a photo to their story!
{twitter}
{instagram}
yourusername
liked by therealgerihalliwell, yourbestfriend1 and 594,027 others
yourusername life lately <3
comments:
yourbestfriend1 gotta get credits for a few pics 👀
yourusername of course! here it is lol
fan1 love the skirt 🫶
fan2 THE SECOND SLIDE WAT-
christianhorner hope you had fun, dear
fan3 are we just gonna ignore the seond pic..
fan2 THATS WHAT I THOUGHT
therealgerihalliwell gorgeous 💗
yourbestfriend2 i see you really enjoyed your company lately
yourusername shush you
fan4 obviously we don't know smth-
{instagram}
maxverstappen1
liked by yourusername, maxmaxmax123 and 2,983,093 others
maxverstappen1 went karting with close friends
comments:
fan1 maxy 🧡
fan2 max soft launching is not on my bingo card
fan3 max AND yn soft launching in the same week? they're together, I'm calling it
fan1 ig we'll see
{twitter}
{instagram}
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 1,563,392 others
yourusername ready for the last race before the summer break <3
comments:
fan1 ICONICC
fan2 i love her 😭😭
christianhorner number one redbull supporter
yourusername thank you thank you
fan3 yn's pic with max 😭
fan4 and him liking her post too!!
fan3 ikr!! like can you guys be more obvious???
{instagram}
redbullracing
liked by yourusername, maxfan4ever and 571,223 others
redbullracing broken record (and trophy cc @mclaren)
comments:
shelovesformula1 🔥🔥🔥🔥
fan1 lando was like: if i can't have it, no one can
fan2 yn liking the pic 👀
fan3 chill it's baseless
fan4 apparently @fan3 lived under a rock for the past fex months
fan5 frr the soft launch and all
{instagram}
yourusername
liked by therealgerihalliwell, maxverstappen1 and 1,837,093 others
yourusername congrats on the big win, my love ❤️
comments:
fan1 im still shook even if we already knew-
fan2 SAME HERE IM SHOOK
fan3 WAIT WHAT????
fan4 told ya
fan3 ...
maxverstappen1 thanks baby! thanks for being my good luck charm <3
yourusername always <3
christianhorner didn't know your boyfriend was one of my drivers...
yourusername ...oops?
{twitter}
a/n: hope you liked it!!
click here to be added to my f1 taglist
tags: @peachiicherries @charli123456789 @lovings4turn @qnktmr @flannelforthetoads @iloveyou3000morgan @the-depressed-fellow @mirrorball-6 @cha-hot @shobaes @luvrrish @sainzluvrr @oscarpastryyyyy @escapism-writer
#| ★ social media au#| ★ queued#formula 1#formula one#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#charles#f1#charles leclerc#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lando norris#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri f1#george russell#george russell x reader#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x reader
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Aussie Athletes
♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!sargeant!ballerina!reader
♥ smau
♥ fluff
♥ notes: I said I'd write some ballet fics so here's one lol. I'm going to write some ship fic ballet au's (drivers as ballet dancers) after I finish my folklore and Romeo and Juliet series'. Also! I'm performing a don quixote variation this weekend so wish me luck lol :) (none of the pictures are mine)
liked by logansargeant and 32,406 more
First Day @ ausballet
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logansargeant congrats sis
yourusername <3
user14 she's in Australia now 🫢
user3 PLEASE let that mean she'll be at more races now
yourusername 👀
user5 💗💗💗
oscarpiastri welcome to Australia
landonorris trying to get a date on main?
logansargeant don't even think about it piastri
oscarpiastri ???
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
2023 British GP
You walked into the paddock bright and early to find your brother before he was busy with qualifying. You ended up running into a different, yet familiar face instead.
“Oh, hey Oscar,” you smiled
“Didn’t expect you to be here with your new Australian ballet career,” he smirked and took a sip of the water he had in his hand. “You don’t have a busy schedule?
“I do, but the season wrapped last month. I figured I’d come down here and support Logan, you know? I’ve got a lot of training to do when I get back, though.” you laughed softly.
Oscar hummed in an understanding response.
“How’s it been there?”
“Good,” you paused. “Tough, too.”
“I’m sure it is. It’s an art and a sport.”
“People don't really consider what I do “a sport”.”
“They say the same about racing.”
“I guess we have something to bond over.” you smiled.
You both heard Lando call Oscar's name, gesturing for him to go to their garage. Oscar gave an awkward, blush-filled goodbye and ran towards the Brit on the other side of the pit lane.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 340,967 more
he says I'm so american
view comments
lilymhe top golf double date
yourusername we are so there
user7 WHO IS HE
user9 y/n x oscar crumbs
user2 crying and writing fics
logansargeant 😐
yourusername ...
user6 @ landonorris please tell us she's with oscar
user8 why would lando know?
landonorris 🤐
user8 @ user6 I'm sorry I wasn't familiar with your game, clearly Lando does know
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 305,678 more
opening night 🧡
logansargeant you did amazing 💐
user2 the orange heart...
user5 NOT a coincidence
user8 AND it's f1's winter break meaning Oscar is back home in Australia where it just so happens y/n dances at
user4 the pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together
ausballet our sugar plum fairy
yourusername <3
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Time Skip - 2024
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
liked by charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri, and 670,895 more
MONACO <3
view comments
charlesleclerc welcome to the piastri-leclerc family
yourusername I'm honored, thank you charles
oscarpiastri so when should she meet my brother leo?
user6 Y/N'S APART OF THE JOKE NOW 😭
user10 someone go get Nicole
user4 y/n l/n-piastri-leclerc
logansargeant don't break her heart
oscarpiastri I won't I swear
#this literally took so long to make#I know I know#It's called Aussie athletes but she's American#she dances for the Australian ballet it’s fine it works#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 smau#formula 1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#reader fic#x reader#fem reader#reader insert#oscar piastri#op81#op81 x reader#op81 fic#op81 fluff#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#ballet dancer#ballet#ballet fic#smau#f1 social media au#fake texts#fake tweets
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the curse of monaco
Synopsis: Charles finally breaks the curse of the track that has haunted him his entire life.
Words: 1.4k+
Other works: my masterlist
a/n: this is probably the fastest i've ever written something, so i'm sorry if it sucks a little lol
♡♡♡♡♡
There was nothing like racing through the streets you grew up in, Charles would always say to you.
In all the years you had known him and been with him, he had only had one goal: winning the Monaco Grand Prix.
You didn’t know why that was, whether it was a tribute to his late father, a tribute to Jules or just the pride of knowing he conquered the streets he had walked his entire life. Maybe it was a combination of all 3.
Charles had not been treated well by his home race the past couple of years. 2 DNFs, 1 DNS and 2 disappointing results had plagued his mind, making the weeks leading up to the race filled with more stress than he should carry.
But you had a good feeling this time. Ever since he got into the car in FP1, then topping the charts all throughout FP2 and FP3, you felt something in your gut change. For once, after so many doubtful years, there was no worry and disappointment in your heart as you waited in the garage for the qualifying session of the weekend. Every negative feeling was replaced with hope, so much hope that you didn’t know what to do with it.
Charles was the complete opposite. While he couldn’t deny that the car had finally come alive and he had the pace he needed, he felt like he couldn’t let himself hope too much, not after everything he’d been through.
“Come on, you know I’m right. You’ll be on pole and you’ll win the race” you said to him as you lounged in his driver room, watching him get dressed in his fireproofs and racing suit.
“Mon amour, you know how Monaco is. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed if I don’t get pole or don’t win” he reasoned, but deep down he was feeling the exact same thing you were.
“But this year is going to be different, I know it will!” you pressed on, making him chuckle in adoration at the hear of your determined voice. “Every other driver has said the same thing and every presenter from F1 TV is saying you’re definitely going to break the curse tomorrow”
“Have you been watching F1 TV again to hear what they have to say about me?” he teased, laughing once he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks.
“That’s not the point. I’m telling you, I have a good feeling about tomorrow. But still, no pressure. You go out there, drive safe and come back to me in one piece. If you end up winning, that’s great, but if you don’t, we’ll get them next year. Sounds good?” you bargained, knowing that he didn’t need any more pressure added on his shoulders than he already had.
He sighed but nodded, pausing his actions to give you a kiss.
“Let’s do it then”
And, true to his word, he came back to you, in one piece, starting from pole in the Monaco GP.
♡♡♡♡♡
There was something special in the air as you entered the paddock with Pascale and Arthur, making your way towards the Ferrari hospitality to watch the race. The entire city of Monte Carlo was absolutely buzzing with excitement, the paddock feeling more alive than ever as their home hero prepared to take on the beautiful circuit that was Monaco.
You didn’t see Charles before he got into the car, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of distraction before he started the race, but you couldn’t help sprinting down to the garage during the Red Flag, knowing you had plenty of time before the race would start up again.
Finding him wasn’t hard at all. He was speaking with his mechanics, drinking some water out of his bottle.
You approached him hurriedly, at which he excused himself from the conversation once he saw you approaching him.
“Mon amour, is everything okay? You’re supposed to be with maman, Arthur and Joris up in the hospitality” he said, worry etched on his face.
“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just came down here to wish you good luck, you know, once FIA decides to restart the race” you joked, hoping to make his spirits lift up a little.
He chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see the stress sitting behind the facade, the worry and pressure tensing up his muscles and demeanor.
Noticing you studying his face and realizing you knew how stressed he was, he smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist.
“You know we’re proud of you no matter what, right?” you whispered, thankful for the loud sounds of mechanics working left and right that helped drown out your conversation to other people around you.
He sighed, but nodded. “I know, but I just can’t shake the stress. I’ve been quick all weekend and everyone knows that. What if something happens and my race goes to shit like every time? I don’t think I’ll be ready to cope with another disappointment from my home track” he confessed, which made your heart squeeze.
His entire life, the only thing that he wanted was to win in Monaco, but the track has always failed him. And for once, he felt like he could finally break the curse that has been following him around for years, yet he still worried that something would completely ruin his race.
“Baby, nobody will think less of you if you don’t win today. Racing is so unpredictable, you put your life in danger every time you get in the car and people know that. We’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome today” you said, holding his face in your hands to make sure he understood you.
He bit the inside of his cheek but nodded, knowing you were right.
“I love you” he murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.
“I love you too. Be safe out there and show everyone what you’re made of” you said once you pulled away, smiling and pecking his lips once again before leaving him to it.
You made your way back to the hospitality where Charles’ family was waiting for you.
“How is he?” Pascale asked you as you sat down next to her.
“He’s stressed, but he’s doing okay. He really wants to win today” you explained, running a hand through your hair.
Pascale nodded, knowing how important this day was for her son.
“He’ll win, I can feel it” Pascale said, taking your hand in hers.
♡♡♡♡♡
Some people would say that you bewitched your fiancé, some would say that a divine force had finally taken pity upon him, but only one thing was for certain.
Charles Leclerc had finally won his home race, the Monaco Grand Prix.
From the moment he had crossed the finish line and taken the checkered flag, everything that happened was a blur. Between hugging his family, texting your friends, crying because of how proud you were of him, things were a big blur.
Hearing him screaming on the radio had been what had made you break down. He had spent so many hours training, figuring out strategies, doing everything in his power to make sure that things would go well for him around his home streets and his hard work had finally paid off.
You couldn’t hold in the excitement that you felt, the pride you held for the man you loved more than life itself. Which frankly explains why you hurried out of the Ferrari hospitality and ran to the grid where the Ferrari mechanics were waiting for Charles.
The moment you saw him get out of the car and throw himself at his team, the cascade of tears began once again, blurring your vision which now only consisted of the red teamwear all around you.
“Y/N!” you were snapped out of your thoughts by Charles’ voice, who had noticed you crying as soon as he hugged his team.
The Ferrari mechanics quickly made way for you, letting you jump into Charles’ arms and wrapping your legs around his waist as he hugged you tightly to his body.
“I did it, Y/N. I finally did it” he cried into your shoulder, which made you let out more tears and squeeze him even tighter than you already were.
“I told you, I knew you were going to do it. My Monaco winner” you pulled away slightly to kiss him, taking his face in your hands.
The entire team cheered around you, paparazzi taking pictures upon pictures of the moment shared between you.
“I love you so fucking much” you whispered against his lips, making him grin widely.
“I love you too”
And with that, the Monaco curse has finally been broken, once and for all.
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a quick snippet/teaser for the jeddah chapter!! <3 rlly wanted to write something quick abt him yesterday so i wrote this on the bus. hope you all have a lovely day and that you'll be sending all of your love to this cutie boy during the race 😚
(i needed someone to guide the reader for a sec so i used chris, i have no idea why. if don't know him then don't worry, he's not important for the story lol...)
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you've never ever been to the ferrari paddock before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-qualifying duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the paddock instead of right outside the doors.
a fool dressed in a red bull cap, even. great.
"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.
"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"
he nods, smiling. "he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."
you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.
"sweetheart? can i come in?"
ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.
"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"
when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?
you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.
not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.
"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.
"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."
it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."
ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.
"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."
"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"
"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."
finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."
you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."
a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.
he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "go out there and show them, baby," you tell him.
and so he does.
#perfectly fine thoughts!#f1#formula 1#formula one#f2#formula two#formula 2#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman x yn#ollie bearman x y/n#ollie bearman fluff#ollie bearman angst#ollie bearman imagine#ollie bearman blurb#ollie bearman snippet#f2 fluff#f2 x reader#scuderia ferrari
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My aunt found me arguably the most boring looking white collar job to apply to that just so happens to be remote writing related. How she managed to find like the cliche parent job recommendation I have no clue. I applied. But it hilarious. I didn’t think those were as easy to find between the thin narrow line of like what I qualify for and what won’t make me faint and ill.
#mumblings#I mean here I am looking at gigs like I don't think that's applicable but I can do that on top of freelancing so why not#But oddly enough I'm qualified because my current job is in an adjacent field#but far enough unrelated that I don't think there'd be any issues#but like auntie how did you find me the most boring stable job on the planet?#I'm impressed and dad would be proud of you#also they didn't want my portfolio what sort of place is this?#It's the kind of resume submission that makes me feel like overly confident#which tends to lead to me forgetting about them and them ghosting me#Which is fine lol#I'm going to turn back to refreshing my e-mail in the hopes that the other jobs I applied to come back to me#because ohhh one of those was another dream job#and the other one at least would be fun#okay side note the gigs I want to apply for? omg please#I'm reading the pitching and like hey y'all we're on a one on one#a one no and a one yes#so like if I apply to two of these do you think maybe they'll pick me for one of them?#I'd be happy with either#send me away please#to the ocean side#and pay me#Gotta balance the no fun with the fun
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okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol
A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭
also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy
ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol
----
Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.
The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.
For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.
Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.
You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.
His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.
You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"
The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.
"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."
The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.
A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.
"Analyzing?"
You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."
"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."
You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.
Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.
"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.
If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.
Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.
He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.
Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.
"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."
Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.
Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.
At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.
But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.
"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."
He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."
You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."
Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.
"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."
You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."
He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.
Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."
You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.
"I have an early class."
You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.
Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.
He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."
The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.
"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."
His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.
You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."
He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."
You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."
Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.
You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.
The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.
It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.
He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.
"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.
Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."
The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.
Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."
He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"
Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.
He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.
Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.
"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.
It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."
You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."
Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.
"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.
The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."
So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.
"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."
The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."
Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"
"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."
He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."
The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."
You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."
"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."
"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.
He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."
"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."
Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."
You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."
He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."
You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.
Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"
"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."
You immediately grin, "Really?"
He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."
You beam. "I'd really like that."
"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."
Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.
"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."
Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."
He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."
Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."
He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.
Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.
This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.
Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.
For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.
"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.
Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."
#the hunger games#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#the hunger games x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus x reader
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One Call | E.M.
Eddie calls you to pick him up from the police station — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff
warnings: eddie gets taken to the police station for peeing in the lake lol
words: 0.8k
“Alright, you know the drill. Someone’s gotta pick you up; you get one call.” Your dad told Eddie, even though they had been through this routine before. “Your uncle again?”
Eddie shook his head. “Nah, Wayne’s out of town. Fishing trip with his buddies. He told me not to bother him unless it’s an emergency.”
“This doesn’t qualify as important enough to call?” One of the officers piped up.
Eddie turned his neck to look at the cop. “Nope. This is just a normal Tuesday for me.”
Your dad held the phone out for your boyfriend. “Well, you got anyone else you can call?”
Eddie held back a mischievous grin, taking the phone. “I have one person I can call, but I don’t think you’re gonna be happy about it.”
✦✧✦✧✦
You rushed down to the station as quickly as possible, only making one stop along the way to grab a peace offering from Benny’s. Before going inside, you looked through the window to scan the tone of the building, making sure it was okay to go inside.
You opened the door and saw Eddie in handcuffs at one of the officers’ desks, twirling a pen with his fingers. Before he got the chance to look up at you, your dad came out from his office looking surprised to see you.
“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing here?” He asked.
You held out the take-out bag for him. “I, uh, I brought you lunch.”
“She’s got ulterior motives, Hopper!” Eddie piped up from across the room. You turned and shot him a glare, along with a whispered 'shut up'.
Your dad looked confused, now starting to understand the food you brought. "What's he talking about?"
There was an awkward silence as you tried to figure out how to word the reason you were really here.
"Well, Dad, I'm also here to pick Eddie up."
He dropped the takeout bag on the nearest desk and pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie, who sported a smirk.
“This punk?” Your dad asked, raising his voice. “You’re friends with this punk?”
Much to your dismay, Eddie spoke up again. “Dating, actually. But I can’t believe it either, Hopper, honestly.”
Even in the tensest of moments, your Eddie still finds a way to flatter you. You wanted to smile and thank him, but then you remembered he was just brought into the police station and hadn’t told you why, so you stopped yourself.
“Yeah, Dad, I am. And I know that you can’t stop me from bailing him out, so give me the form to sign.”
The officer whose desk Eddie was sitting at handed you a clipboard and a pen so you could sign and say that you would bail him out and keep him out of trouble for the time being. You flashed a cocky smile to your dad and started filling out the blanks.
Your dad rubbed his forehead like he was tired of everyone around him—which he was. “Don’t give her the clipboard until I’m done scolding her.” He mumbled.
“You know I brought him in for pissing in Lover’s Lake with his punk friends, right?”
You did not know that. But you weren’t going to let him win this round.
“Oh, like Lover’s Lake isn’t already full of piss!” You countered.
“Is that really the hill you want to die on?”
You forcefully handed the completed clipboard to the officer while rolling your eyes.
“I don’t want to die on any hill, I just want to pick up my boyfriend!”
Eddie gasped happily as the man took off his handcuffs. “She called me her boyfriend.”
You had to admit, it made you happy too. Even though you were mad at everyone in the room, your angry expression morphed into a smile. “I know, it felt good to say.” You then turned back to your dad. “I’m going now. If you have more to say to me, we can talk tonight.”
With that, you and your boyfriend started walking towards the door. He opened it for you and motioned for you to go first. You started to walk out, but shot a glare at Eddie as you walked by. He messed up and he knew it.
Before Eddie closed the door behind you, your dad shouted one last thing at you. “You know, kid, just ‘cause he’s out of trouble, doesn’t mean you are!”
You looked back at him through the doorway. “Oh, believe me, Dad, he’s not out of trouble yet!”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x hopper!reader#jim hopper#stranger things#stranger things fluff
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Death Appreciation Week!
With Dead Boy Detectives hitting our screens on the 25th April, and with our girl Death of the Endless making a guest appearance, it seemed only fitting that we should celebrate her in the run up to the show's release.
So I will be running a Death Appreciation Week from Thursday 18th April to Thursday 25th April which will be a celebration of all things Death of the Endless!
Participation is easy. You can go through the prompt list below, and choose to create in whichever way you feel most comfortable. I am keeping this event as flexible as possible so the prompts aren't tied to set days, you just go for whatever you feel most inspired by whenever you can make the time and ideally if you are able to complete a prompt of your choosing each day of the event well then you are a star and I love you!
Prompt List
Death and Family - Dysfunctional as they may be the Endless are a family unit, and their parents are even worse.
Death and Mortals - Some have won her favour, others have slipped through her grasp.
Death and Immortals - even the God's must meet her in the end.
Death and Relationships - Who doesn't flirt with Death on occassion?
Lessons Learned - Death's words of wit and wisdom.
Death the Fashionista - She's rocked many looks over the years, but she's always been a goth fashion icon.
A Day with Death - every 100 years she takes mortal form.
The Sound of Her Wings - lets not forget she has them!
"A Cold Stuck-Up Bitch" - It's a long endless lifetime - Death's early years and how she's changed.
Death Tarot - a symbol of transformation, of change, and even of hope?
Rules for Participation
All types of fanworks are permitted. Fanart, fanfics, gifsets, meta analysis, polls, even just sharing your fave comic panels or official artwork is fine. The goal is to celebrate this amazing character in all her forms.
For your work to qualify for submission to the event, it has to prominantly feature Death of the Endless as the primary focal point. Whilst I encourage exploring her relationships with other characters, the point is to highlight Death as the central character in the work.
the hashtag #Death Appreciation Week must be tagged in all works for the event.
Anything goes! I welcome all ships, all types of work, all themes and content. NSFW is absolutely fine if that's your jam. We don't kinkshame here either. So long as everything is clearly tagged you can literally create what you want.
The prompt list is just a guide for inspiration but literally any fanworks that focus on Death can be included. You don't have to follow prompts if you don't want to.
This is a love fest for Death - which means no hate, discrimination, exclusion, etc. Please also keep criticisms and complaints out of the event tag.
Death of the Author - this is my Neil Gaiman Keep Out sign. As much as I love the guy, this is a fan event and I do not consent to anyone tagging the author in my posts. If he somehow finds it on his own thats on him lol, but please don't tag him.
Most importantly HAVE FUN - and share this post. Signal Boost please!
If you have any questions about the event, the prompts, or anything, please send me an ask or a dm. I'm happy to answer anything and help as much as needed.
With love and thanks to @seiya-starsniper for the awesome banner, and @marlowe-zara and @tryan-a-bex for their ideas and support. <3
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6 to 1 lando and Charles finding each other after Charles took the grid penalty, awkwardly talking with y/n in the middle
bro this ended up being so much longer than i thought but i hope its okay also its not edited i just wrote it at work LOL
"Don't," you told Lando, hand going to his chest the second he stepped out of the car. His attention had already gone towards the entrance of the garage, but you were hoping your touch would remind him there were more important things at stake here.
"He ruined my lap!" Lando exclaimed after he pulled his helmet off."
"And now the FIA is investigating it so whatever you want to say, save it."
Lando didn't know that part. How could he when he had been in the car this whole time? Whereas you saw the incident when it occurred, Charles unintentionally getting in the way of Lando's flying lap. You understood why Lando was pissed, he had a right to be, but you both knew how important Monaco was for Charles.
He clenched his jaw, taking one more look at the pit lane, knowing Charles was somewhere down there. You trailed your hand upwards, pulling his face back to yours.
"Just go do media and if you're still angry after-"
"I'm not angry it's just annoying, is all," Lando scoffed. He pulled his face out of your grasp and you told yourself his actions weren't personal, he was just in a mood.
You could have let it go, had he not muttered one last thing under his breath.
"...thinks he can get away with this shit because he's from here, he's not the prince of motorsport-"
"Hey!" You snapped, your stare narrowing into an icy glare. Even a few McLaren mechanics turned to look at you with curiosity as you were never one to raise your voice at Lando, especially during a race weekend.
Lando's features only tightened more, it was clear he wasn't about to retract his statement, even if it was said in haste.
These types of moments during the races were rare. Usually, Lando and Charles got on pretty well. They respected each other and you split your time evenly between their garages. This weekend was the only time they argued over which garage you'd be in. In the end they agreed that Lando would have you for practices and Qualifying, but it was only right you were supporting Charles in the Ferrari garage at his home race.
Not like either of them asked for your opinion.
But this stupid tunnel incident was not one you had prepared for. In fact, you, along with many other people, were convinced that Lando wasn't going to get a lap in during Q3 after his brush with the barrier last session. His mechanics were magicians, apparently, and he managed to get out for a flying lap.
You texted Carlos' cousin when you heard about what happened in the tunnel, wanting to know if Ferrari was about to go up in flames. All he responses with was Xavi didn't tell Charles to move. The investigation notification came a minute later.
So yes, while Charles fucked up Lando's lap time, it wasn't his fault. And now there was a chance he was going to have to pay the price for it. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend making things worse.
Lando stood there, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to tell him that you were on Charles' side but you just shook your head, warning him with your stare alone.
"Save. It." You repeated.
And then you left, knowing that Charles would appreciate your support much more than Lando would right now. You hung out in the Ferrari garage with Carlos for a bit when he returned from media before someone told you that Charles was chatting with Fred back in the motorhome, a closed door meeting presumably.
Clips of Lando's post-quali interview was circulating on twitter and you rolled his eyes at his suggestion to disqualify Charles. It was a joke, a painful one with maybe an ounce of truth behind it, but a joke nonetheless.
Which was a good sign. Maybe Lando had cooled off a bit. He must have if he was able to flash a faint smile for the cameras. You had seen the interviews after horrid sessions and this was not that.
An hour went by and still no one had heard anything. The two hour mark came and went and the only text you got was from Lando telling you he swiped some cheesecake from the hospitality lounge for you.
And then at the third hour, Charles stepped out of the office and came walking down the steps of the motorhome. The lines in his forehead and his lips pressed together tightly said it all.
"Three places," Charles sighed, he dropped to the couch across from you. At this point, most of the team had cleared out but you and Carlos had stayed. Charles dropped his elbows to his knees as his face fell to his hands. "Trois putains de lieux," Three fucking places.
"I'm so sorry," you said, because what else could you say? This was his home race and he qualified third. He still had a fighting chance being so close to the front but now it was ripped away.
"I just want to go home," Charles shook his head.
"Do you want me to call maman? I'm sure she's already made dinner-"
"Have you talked to Lando?" Charles cut you off, head snapping up.
Even Carlos looked at you. He too was curious, but didn't think to ask, assuming that it was probably the wrong time.
"Not since he got out of the car."
"He'll probably be celebrating in a minute," he muttered, staring past you and out the window towards the paddock. At the same time, your phone got the notification of F1's statement. Charles Leclerc takes 3-Place Grid Penalty.
"Your penalty doesn't help him at all," this was a thin line you walked on, playing devils advocate. "He's pissed yeah, but he's still stuck starting from tenth. And now you're starting sixth, no one wins."
"Max will," Carlos whispered, and then glanced between you and Charles, snapping his mouth shut. "I mean, he probably will. We all knew this."
Charles chose to ignore that comment, standing up and patting his teammate on the shoulder as he walked past, "Good luck tomorrow Carlos. I'm sure they'll give you the fighting chance strategy."
There was nothing you could do except follow him out in the paddock. He didn't want advice, he didn't want a pep talk, he wanted to go home and be angry about this because this situation had fallen so far out of his control.
The paddock had emptied for the most part at this point, a few stragglers here and there, but most drivers had gone into their debriefs and strategy planning meetings.
Most, not all.
Because just up ahead you spotted Lando walking in the same direction towards the gates. Charles shot you a look, silently telling you not to say anything or get his attention and you nodded, not wanting to stir the pot any more.
Lando probably would have just gone to his car and driven back to his flat.
But you both watched as he raised his phone up to his ear and it was only seconds later when the phone in your hand started ringing. You didn't need to look at the screen to know Lando was trying to get a hold of you.
Hearing your ringtone, Lando stopped walking and turned around. Eyes darting back and forth between you and Charles as you both approached him.
You stood between them, you had to. You didn't know if they were blaming the other or if they were going to fight or if Lando was still angry or what. There were too many variables and for everyones sake, you made sure to stand between them.
Lando shrugged sympathetically, but his words were anything but, "You don't slow down in the tunnel, mate. Everyone knows this."
"I didn't know you were behind me," Charles retorted, keeping the tone respectful.
"There are mirrors on the car."
"But not headlights."
"You don't slow down in the tunnel," Lando repeated with a sigh.
You could hear it in his voice, Lando did feel bad for Charles after seeing the harsh penalty, but he still had a right to hold a bit of a grudge.
Charles nodded, "I am sorry, Lando."
Shocked, you stared up at your brother, wondering if you had in fact heard him correctly. Charles was apologizing? For something he had no control over? Something that screwed him over?
Even Lando was susprised to hear it, taking a second for himself before responding.
"Yeah I'm sorry too," Lando nodded, reaching forward and patting the driver on the arm. "Three places is harsh."
"They should have fined the team," Charles shrugged.
"It's the Monaco curse, I guess."
You slapped the back of your hand against Lando's abdomen and even Charles rolled his eyes, hearing nothing but curse this and curse that, especially from Arthur who was now convinced it was in fact real.
"Curse or not, we both have our work cut out for us tomorrow," Charles said and the three of you started off walking again, still with you in the middle.
You stayed quiet as the drivers talked amongst yourselves but when Lando reached for your hand you looked up at him and smiled. You could breathe a little easier tonight knowing they wouldn't hold this incident against each other.
You approached Charles' Ferrari first and he unlocked the doors, nodding his head at Lando, "Are you coming to dinner?"
Lando looked at you, unsure how to answer because this was the first he had heard about dinner, "I don't-"
"You didn't invite him?" Charles asked you, brows pinched together. Every year, you spent the evening after qualifying at your maman's place for a good luck dinner, even if good luck never followed. Charles was still intent on going tonight, and was surprised to hear you didn't extend the invitation to Lando.
"I didn't know I could," you answered honestly.
"Come for dinner," Charles told Lando, no longer phrasing it as a question. He reached for the handle of the drivers side door and then pointed a finger at the Brit, "But don't even think about mentioning the curse."
You leaned into Lando's side as Charles said he'd see you in a bit and you waited until he drove off before your tilting your face upwards.
"Thank you," you said to him.
Lando kissed the top of your head, "What for?"
For saving whatever bullshit comment he really wanted to make. For not starting a fight in the middle of the paddock. For putting his own annoyances aside and seeing Charles as someone was also struggling.
"Just, thank you," you repeated. Because truthfully, there were a lot of reasons. Too many to list.
But most importantly, you were thankful to not be forced into choosing a side.
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reaction to finding out you have a chronic disease | fem!reader x haikyuu!!
this idea popped into my head in the shower. shower thoughts are the best. as a chronically ill person such as myself (mentally and physically, LOL!) i felt maybe I was a little qualified to write this. these are all diseases i experience! i can def write some that i am not diagnosed with :) i'm a biology nerd, so i love learning new things, especially about diseases! some of these are more serious than others.
i tried to keep the disease symptoms/descriptions general so it can appeal to more diagnoses (for example, nosebleeds are indicative of several different diseases) that way more people can feel represented by what i write!
‼️warnings: mentions of blood, nekoma team being dorks, seizures, WAY too many ellipses (sorry I just love them), pointless bantering (oikawa), dramatic af, osamu described as "caked-up" (sorry not sorry), railing on atsumu for shits and giggles, deep hatred of the word moist
want to see a different haikyuu character's reaction? request here! also, if you want to read a specific disease represented, i can see if i can put it in there too :)
✿ kuroo tetsuro
"hey when do you want to- OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?!"
blood dripped from your nose onto the gymnasium floor. "oh. another nosebleed. my bad, I'll clean that up..." you said apathetically.
"hey, this is sort of a big deal, ya know? shit... yaku, I need a towel or something!" he shouted.
they really weren't anything serious. ever since you were little, you had frequent nosebleeds. your mom wrote it all off as the cold weather (even in summer), so it wasn't really that big of a deal to you either (until a few doctor visits later). still, the apathy you felt toward your predicament remained.
yamamoto had already rushed over at his captain's call. "does she need an ice pack, too? fuck, I don't know what to do...."
"aren't you supposed to tilt your head up?" one member asked.
"no, no i think you're supposed to tilt your head down...." another muttered.
"GUYS, GUYS I GOT IT. GOOGLE SAYS TO 'sit down and tilt your head forward, pinching the top part of your nose above the nostrils for like, 10 to 15 minutes.'" lev sat back proudly, phone in hand.
"can't believe you were smart enough to look that up..." kenma whispered under his breath.
"hey, hey, look at me. you still with us?" kuroo said, a hand on either side of your face.
despite the towel against your nose, you couldn't help but laugh. "oh my god, guys! it's not like I'm dying! this happens all the time."
"but that's not...normal. did you ever get it checked out?" kuroo stared at you inquisitively, his brow raised. his fellow teammates nodded.
you sighed. "look, unless there's a lot of excessive gushing or anything like that, they said i should be okay. yes there's a whole disease behind it all with a long-ass name that no one can pronounce and yes there are sometimes other symptoms that could result in death, but I'm totally fine, okay? I'm perfectly healthy!"
"you poor, fragile angel..." lev said, a hand on his chest, distraught.
"that... does NOT make me feel more relieved. at all. in fact, I'm more worried. should we go to the hospital? that one looked a little... gush-y...." kuroo said, pacing back and forth before setting his eyes back on you.
removing the towel from your nose, you shook your head. "no. look, bleeding nose already gone, see? I'm not going to the hospital. I'm completely fine. relax, kuroo."
kuroo stared at you for another moment, taking in your expression, searching for any signs of discomfort. at last, he sighed. "ok. fine. I concede. but if you ever feel the littlest bit unwell, tell me or one of us, okay?"
after your agreement, and several more minutes of doting from both your boyfriend and all the other team members, you at last parted ways.
as you got out of the shower that night, your phone lit up with a notification.
tetsu 💕 [11:23pm]: I'm serious about what I said back there. please talk to me when you aren't feeling good. you mean so much to me that I can't imagine what life would be like without you. sleep well, babe. love you.
✿ osamu miya
"damn are you o-- OKAY, YEAH, NO. SHE'S NOT OKAY."
it was your average day as a supportive, amazing, fantastic girlfriend watching your iconic, sexy, hot, caked-up boyfriend play volleyball with his piss-haired twin and the rest of the team of inarizaki.
unfortunately for you (and the entire volleyball team), inarizaki had a recent issue with their air conditioning units. even more unfortunate was the fact that the fans in the gymnasium were practically there for decoration, that's how useless they were.
despite it being late march (still quite cool outside), the players and spectators were drenched in sweat.
still, you weren't about to let a little (lot) bit of sweat deter you from cheering for your mans!
so, you remained in the stands, cheering as loudly as you could (except for the times when you couldn't because atsumu was once again on his I'm About To Serve Power Trip).
it was finally nearing the end of the game, and thank GOD it was because you were starting to feel reaaalllly light-headed.
at the final score of the match, you stood up, but oh, was that a mistake. suddenly, you legs started shaking. the lights suddenly seemed to dim down and black spots were popping up in your vision. maaaaybe you should sit back down. wait. where is "back down"? it suddenly occurred to you that at this point, you couldn't see anything.
beginning to panic, you started reaching out to find something to hold onto, thankfully finding the stair railing of the bleachers in your grasp. slowly, you blindly fumbled your way down the steps of what you hoped were the bleachers steps.
you heard someone shout something along the lines of, "you good?"
you were far too panicked and far too focused to give a reply. don't fall down. don't fall down. don't faint. don't pass out. you chanted in your head like a mantra.
you heard the squeak of shoes against the ground and voices talking back and forth around you when suddenly a steady hand grabbed ahold of you just above your elbow.
guess that was all you needed before your consciousness flickered, then extinguished.
-
"....cold like ice...."
"...pale as hell...."
you could only hear snippets of sentences, and your eyelids felt heavy.
"....have something....with sugar, preferably...."
when you finally opened your eyes, you were no longer in the gym, but in inarizaki's nurse's office.
"hey..."
you turned, now noticing the other occupant of the otherwise empty room.
"'samu... did I faint again?"
his eyebrows rose. "again? like, you've done this before?"
"yeah. happens a lot. 's fine though. was a little scary back there for a minute, though."
"damn, I'll say. I've never seen someone so pale. and sweaty. and that's saying something, cuz post-practice 'tsumu is disgustingly moist."
"'samu, I love you, but never say that fucking word again."
"what, moist?"
you cringed, grabbing at your ears, "ugh, yes! I'm already dying here and now you're nailing the final mark in the coffin."
osamu gave his signature half-smile. "I thought you said you were fine?"
you scoffed, "that was just to make you feel better. I'm gonna need lots of cuddles tonight to wave off my near-death experience."
he let out a light-hearted laugh. "okay. plenty of that for you regardless of whether you're on death's door or not." he said, giving you a small peck.
you pursed your lips. "I need you right now, though."
his face split in a full grin as he slid next to you on the small bed. "anything for you darlin'."
✿ oikawa toru
"please... please be okay..."
you had been enjoying your regular weekday study session. it always went as follows: meet up after class, head off to aoba johsai's library, study (and perhaps get slightly off-topic over some vending machine snacks and drinks), and at last, go to volleyball practice (perks of being a manager!).
"ok, ok, we should probably finally look at what we're supposed to know for our next english exam," oikawa said, still in between chuckles.
"but toru... i can't go on without a drink..." you clutched your throat dramatically. "must... have.... beverage.... dying of.... thirst!"
oikawa laughed again, "geez, fine!" he said, attempting to sound annoyed by your request (and failing miserably). "I'll go grab us something to drink. on me." he winked.
"wow. what a gentleman. you really spare no expense, spoiling me with luxurious drinks from the beverage box of wonders! oh how lucky I am to have such a supportive boyfriend..." you leaned back on your chair, drying a fake tear of gratitude, while simultaneously stifling a giggle.
"damn, ok. fork out the yen, then, babe."
"nooooo~~~ I was kidding! I'm sorry you're the best ever in the whole wide world~~~ my little piglet oinkawa~"
"ok now you're paying for my drink too."
"I'm sorry!!!! I won't call you oinkawa ever again."
"thank you-"
"to your face."
after at least 15 minutes of more bickering (and no studying) oikawa was off to the so-called beverage box of wonders, also known as a shitty-ass vending machine that was probably last refurbished in the '90s.
oikawa was still laughing to himself as he rounded the corner to the library, drinks in his arms.
"hey babe, are you finally studying?" he smirked, finally nearing your small alcoved study area.
-
thud, thud.
the long-forgotten drinks fell to the floor as oikawa rushed over to you. there you convulsed on the ground, your eyes white and pupil-less, and your mouth foaming, turning a slight twinge of pink. you let out small grunts, completely unresponsive.
"oh my god, oh my god, hey, hey listen to me." oikawa was already in full-fledged panic mode, tapping your face with his hand.
"oh my god, SOME PLEASE HELP HER!"
the few left in the library looked over at oikawa, then at you, before beginning to run about. one was on their phone speaking to a 911 operator, another rushed out of the room. one kneeled alongside oikawa, checking helplessly for a pulse.
"protect her head." a girl read out from her phone.
oikawa immediately shed his jacket, placing it under your head which was hitting the ground rapidly to the incongruent rhythm of your convulsions.
"check her bag, does she have any meds?"
"SHE'S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND I THINK I'D KNOW IF SHE HAD MEDS!" oikawa shouted. he didn't mean to snap, but he felt so useless. were you hiding this from him? how did he not know you had seizures? were they always this bad?
despite what he'd told the unnamed student, oikawa, jumped up, grabbing your bag and nearly ripping the zipper with the force he'd opened it with. no medication.
"no meds." he said, quieter this time.
a hand rested on his shoulder. "it's gonna be okay, man. look, she stopped."
oikawa whipped his head over to you, chastising himself for removing his eyes from you for even a second.
you were still breathing, but it was like you were in a deep slumber. by the time the EMTs arrived, however, you'd begun blinking your eyes lazily at your surroundings.
-
"hey oikawa." you said, smiling.
oikawa said nothing in return, his head in his hands.
you sat there for a moment, taking in your surroundings.
"wait a minute, where am i?" you felt a tickling inside your nose. at the touch of your hand, you realized you had a breathing tube hooked up you. another glance around the sterile hospital room showed your heart rate monitor and other cords wrapped up around the hospital bed.
you laughed, "...and what's all this stuff on me?"
"you had a seizure." oikawa said sharply, though not unkind.
you stared at him once more in disbelief. "...really?"
"yeah. I came back from getting our drinks when...when I found you lying on the ground, shaking. the doctor says you bit your tongue, which explains why the foam that was coming out of your mouth was pink. they want to do an MRI on you."
"oh." you gazed down, then met his eyes again. "you... had to deal with that all by yourself?"
"other people in the library helped me... though I don't think I was the nicest guy to be around. its sort of all of a blur."
you smiled, "for me, too. I can barely remember what we were talking about before I woke up."
oikawa's eyes widened, "really?"
"yeah... but I think I'll be okay, as long as you're here."
"this hasn't happened before, has it?"
"no, not really. I mean, I've always gotten light-headed easily, which is sort of how I felt before I, ya know... went down... but never like that. I don't think. then again, if I wasn't here in a hospital bed, I think I would've just thought I fell asleep or something. it just feels like I took a long nap. still kind of tired, honestly."
oikawa shook his head. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again."
"oikawa, seriously. it's gonna be okay. I'm fine. nothing bad happened, right? I didn't die."
"BUT YOU COULD'VE!" he shouted. "...you could've.." he said again in a whisper.
suddenly, he got up. leaning over the hospital bed, he pressed his lips to your temple, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. "I just... I don't want to see you suffering. I don't want you to get hurt."
"but you were there."
"but what if I wasn't?"
"but you were."
you slid your hand over his own. "oikawa, it's gonna be okay, I promise. I'm a little scared, too, but... I know we'll figure something out, okay?"
he let out a mix between a sigh and a laugh, "why does it feel like I was the one who had the seizure? some boyfriend I am, making you feel worse."
"oikawa shush." you placed you index finger over his lips. "you're not allowed to talk about yourself in that way in my presence."
he rolled his eyes, but his dimples popped out in a wary smile. "you're amazing, you know that?"
you imitated deep-thought, your finger on your chin. "hmm... no, doesn't ring a bell."
a full grin bloomed across his face now. "then I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you."
a/n: romanticize the source of your medical bills girlies 💕 it works wonders
#kuroo imagine#kuroo headcanons#haikyuu kuroo#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo testuro#kuroo tetsurou#oikawa scenarios#oikawa x reader#hq oikawa#oikawa tōru#oikawa toru#oikawa toru x reader#hq osamu#miya osamu x reader#haikyuu osamu#osamu miya x reader#osamu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu x reader#haikyū!!
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Two hearts, one love
Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader
Summary: Formula's one cutest couple also happens to be between a reporter and a certain pilot in red
Warnings: Broken bone (leg)
An: Hiiiiii!! I'm very very proud of this work (so if you don't like it pls don't tell me 😌) anywhoss, just remembering yall that I'm brazilian so English is not my first language, that means you have to forgive me if I make any mistakes LOL, ENJOYYY!
Being a reporter for Formula One truly isn't easy, but you love it and always did. You were indeed always fascinated by all the cars, drivers, teams and everything that had to do with the sport, so it wasn't surprising to anyone when you graduated college and soon got a job as a reporter to a highly successful TV channel. Your job was great, you could do together the two things you loved most, work for TV and Formula One. And that is how you met the third thing you love most: Charles Leclerc. He had just signed with Scuderia Ferrari when you two met. It was your first year as a field reporter, which meant you went around interviewing drivers, mechanics and team principals, basically anyone that you passed through who had time and knowledge enough to be interviewed. The day you two officially met was in the first Grand Prix of the season, it was qualifying day and Charles had just done amazingly well for such a young driver, fortunately the universe was on your side and you managed to get a interview with him, il predestinato, all dressed in red and with sweat dripping from his hair to his forehead and onto the sides of his face, that was the first time you saw him so close, and the moment he looked inside your eyes, the driver knew that the purpose of his life, was to make you his wife. And he did it, two years later you married in a beautiful church just outside Monaco, and it was the happiest day of your lives.
Current days
It is race week! And you couldn't be more happy with the excitement of every fan who passes by your side, you just love everything the paddock has to offer, maybe except for the giant cast on your right leg that couldn't go by unnoticed even if you tried. The week before you were walking home and in your way you encountered an old lady whose cane had fallen, without thinking twice you bent down to pick up the object for the poor woman who could clearly barely bend down, unfortunately for you, a car next to you lost control and hit you hard, fortunately he was not driving at a big speed and so the only injury you received was a broken leg, you were released from the hospital a day later with a cast on your leg and a crutch. And that's how you ended up here, this is officially your first race as Charles' wife and not as a reporter and you couldn't be more excited, with Charles help you got out of the car and was immediately flooded by questions and fans wanting to take a picture with your husband or wanting an autograph, you told him it was okay and gave him space to talk to the fans for about ten minutes. After some of the fans went away he walked slowly toward you with a giant smile on his face, "Sorry about that mon amour, let's get you to the garage okay?"
"Okay" You smiled and gave him a small kiss to his cheek, "I love you so much angel" "And I love you more bébé"
As you were walking to the red garage that was near the end of the paddock a reporter stopped you and you immediately recognized her as Rachel, the girl who was filling in for you until you took off your cast and could go back to work.
"Charles! YN! How are you love? Are you getting better after the accident?" She asked smiling towards you. She had a microphone in her hand and the cameraman had the camera pointed at you, Rachel can be your friend but this was still an interview and you had to be careful with what you and Charles said.
"Hey Rach! Fortunately I'm great! The accident wasn't too bad and I'm not feeling pain at all!"
"That is awesome YN!"
"Yeah! And let me tell you a secret..." You felt your husband's hand wrap around your waist and smiled. "...I have this great guy by my side who is helping me with everything I need!"
You turned to Charles who gave you a passionate smile and slowly pulled you in to give you a loving kiss (appropriate for the cameras around you, of course), you smiled and found home in his embrace.
"Okay okay, let's let the lovebirds be! Haha! It was great seeing you both. Good luck on the race today Charles and hope you get better YN!"
"Bye bye Rach! Thank you!"
"Merci Rachel" Said Charles before turning once again to you and helping you continue your way toward the garage. As soon as you entered the space you grabbed your husband's hand carefully.
"I love you so so much and I'm so proud of you my love. You have no ideia how much I look up to you"
"Je t'aime tellement mon ange, je l'ai toujours fait et je le ferai toujours"
*I love you so much my angel, I always have and I always will*
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fluff#formula one x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles lechair#ferrari#charles leclerc x wife#charles leclerc x reporter#formula one#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc blurb#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 x you#charles leclerc x yn
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Fight Club
Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader (with platonic Frank Castle x Reader)
Summary: @hellskitchenswhore is killing it with the prompts lately. Per her request: Matt's freaking out thinking you might be cheating on him because for the last few weeks, you’ve been coming home smelling like Frank. What he doesn’t know is that you asked Frank to teach you how to fight and didn’t tell Matt.
Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, and Possessiveness from our dear Matt. Sort of getting caught after the fact.
Notes: I started taking kickboxing like three weeks ago, so I like to pretend that qualifies me to know what I'm talking about (It doesn't lol). So apologizes if I got any of the terminology wrong. UPDATE DEC 2023: I wrote an alternate ending to this fic that ends in a threeway with Frank that you can read here
WC: 5,000
*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*
“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you.
You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.
“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag
“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”
“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”
“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”
It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.
Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.
Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice.
You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)
In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym
“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”
“Why don’t you just ask Red?”
“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”
“Okay, can I ask why not?”
“You can but I’m not gonna answer.”
Frank chuckled and shook his head
“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”
“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”
“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”
“And you’d do that for me?”
“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”
“9:00”
“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”
And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.
“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again
“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest
“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”
“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”
“Sure. See you then.”
By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.
‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.
You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back.
“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep
“Morning sweetheart.”
“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine
“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”
“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”
“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires
His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.
“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.”
All truths.
“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go
Perfect.
As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.
Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder?
‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.
But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar.
It takes another week for him to ask you about it.
“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner
“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply
“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”
“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague
“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”
“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.”
Also technically the truth.
“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”
‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.
Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.
Frank.
“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks
“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level
“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments
“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”
“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”
“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”
And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?
After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.
He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit.
You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day.
Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.
The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night.
Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt.
You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes.
“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders.
“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”
“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”
You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”
The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.
When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck.
‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself.
But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him.
Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank.
But how could you smell like…
And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot.
You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home.
Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do.
Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?
The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake.
You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first.
“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”
“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds
That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy.
Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.
“Matt. What’s up?”
“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response.
“What could possibly make you think that?”
“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”
“So did you ask her?”
“Well no but…”
“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”
And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated.
Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.
Matt still hadn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little did you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym.
“Hey Frank” you call out as you enter
“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms
Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside.
You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room.
“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”
“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”
Matt knew it. He fucking knew it.
“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”
“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”
“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”
“No, I don’t”
“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”
“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”
Matt’s heart drops.
How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him. But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was.
“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days I’m sure you could give Red a run for his money.”
“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll
Matt listens for the next hour as Frank talks you through a few hitting drills, then the two of you sparring. Frank is clearly taking it easy on you, but Matt is still impressed by what he could tell of what you were doing. He absolutely would need to take you on to really gauge your skills.
Franks's phone rings out just as you’re cooling down with some stretches.
He answers and speaks for a few minutes.
“Alright sorry to jet out of here but Madani has somethin urgent for me. You good to get home alright?”
“Yeah, thanks Frank. See you tomorrow.”
Frank gives you a fist bump and then disappears through the front door. Matt uses the opportunity to sneak in just before the door slams closed behind Frank.
You’re sitting on the floor undoing your wraps as he finally speaks up.
“If you wanted to opportunity to hit Frank, I’m sure I could have arranged it some other way”
Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you.
“Matt… I” you stumble to explain.
“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask
“What are you doing here?” You ask, ready for him to chew you out for your little secret.
“Alright if I’m honest, do you promise you’ll be honest?” He asks
“Yes.”
“I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” He confesses with a sigh
“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”
“I know. Been listening all night so I know. But I have to know why. Why are you doing this and why didn’t you tell me? And Frank? Really?”
“It’s a long story. Can I tell you while we walk home?”
And so you do. By the time you make it home to your apartment, you’ve come clean about the incident at work and running into Frank and how he’d been coaching you the last few weeks, and why you were so hesitant to ask Matt to be the one to do it.
Matt is oddly quiet through your explanation but nods as you speak. He finally speaks up just as you’re unlocking the front door.
“I forgive you. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t ask me. But now that I know, I am curious…”
“You want to see how much I’ve learned?”
He nods enthusiastically
“Fine. I guess since now you know you can join us tomorrow. If you want.”
“Perfect, I’ll be there”
He tucks you in to bed with a gentle kiss before heading out on patrol again, no longer clouded by doubts about your relationship.
—
When you arrive at the gym the next night, Matt is already there, looking extra adorable in his gray sweatpants and messy hair.
It’s all so familiar to him - the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the smell of sweat and heat, the gym mat sticking beneath his bare feet with every step. Just like Fogwells when he was a kid. He feels at home here.
“Hey sweetheart” he greets you with a kiss
“Hey Matty” you can’t help but smile whenever you see him after a long day “Frank texted me, he’s running late, but um do you want to help me warm up?”
Matt’s face lights up with excitement. “Yes. Okay. What does Frank normally have you do?”
“Two rounds of jab crosses on the bag. Three minutes each.”
“Okay, have at it”
You wrap your hands and begin hitting the bag. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.
“Woah woah woah. Frank has been letting you hit like this and not correcting your form?”
“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with my form?”
“You’re too far away from the bag. I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”
Matt moves behind you to help you correct your position, then lets you take a few more punches.
“See? More power, less effort.”
“Yeah. Any other pointers?”
Matt places his hands on your shoulders and places his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. You never thought of boxing as particularly erotic, especially not with Frank teaching you. But with Matt’s breath against your ear, you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core.
“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”
“Matt…” the words die on your lips. You want to speak up and defend how kind Frank has been these past few weeks to spend the time to teach you, but Matt’s sweet whisper of encouragement has you forgetting anything else but him.
“C’mon sweetheart, don’t get all shy on me. You hesitate like this for Frank?”
“N..no.” you stutter, then weakly throw out a few more punches
Matt chuckles, knowing just how much he’s winding you up with so little.
“Put a little more power behind them. Don’t let me being here hold you back.”
You try to do as he says and throw some real hits, but Matt is still pressed right against you.
God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few minutes of warming up you’ve done. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.
His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear.
“You’ve been working hard. Maybe Frank does know what he’s doing.”
He places a second kiss a little lower down your neck.
“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks
“A few. Landed some of them too.”
A third, fourth, and fifth kiss down your neck, working his way toward your shoulder. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.
“Mmm that’s my girl.” he says, as he begins sucking on your neck, his right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings.
“Matty” you chastise
“What?” he feigns ignorance
“Matthew. Do not start something you can’t finish. Frank will be here any minute.”
“You said he’d be late.”
“His text said ‘a few minutes’ and that was already several minutes ago.”
“Well I can’t hear his heartbeat yet, so we’ve got at least five.”
You want to protest more, you really do, but you just can’t resist Matt.
Laughing low, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his steady breath against your exposed skin a stark contrast to the growing labor of your exhales. You spread your legs a little wider. He takes the invitation and reaches his hand fully into your leggings, using a finger to circle your sensitive bud.
You throw your head back onto his chest with a moan, his name falling from your lips in a breathy whisper.
He continues to suck on your neck as works at your core, finally sliding a finger inside you, then another.
You reach forward to grab the boxing bag for stability, Matt’s touch causing you to writhe enough that you’re not sure you’re able to stay standing without it. As you thrash against him, he inhales deeply, a mix of your natural scent and your arousal consuming his lungs.
In order to get you exactly where he wants you, he keeps a quick pace, knowing he does not have a lot of time. His rhythm never falters, stroking you over and over in that perfect spongy spot inside you. It’s not long before you're coming apart with a cry of his name.
Just as your head stops spinning and you’re returning to earth, Matt is turning you around and connecting his lips with yours. So hungry to have you, he guides you back a few steps, never breaking his lips from yours, and pushes you against the wall behind you.
His kisses grow more and more desperate, sending an electric tingle down your spine, though that could also be because the wall behind you is made of mirrors and the glass is cool against the heated skin not protected by your sports bra.
As soon as you make contact with the wall, his hands are back on your hips, pushing your leggings and panties down in a heap on the sticky mat beneath you. His clothes soon follow.
You throw your leg up and around his hip, opening yourself to him. An offer he quickly accepts. A soft gasp simultaneously escapes both your lips, the relief between the two of you as he guides himself slowly into your wet and eager core until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Restless fingers reach down to wrap your other leg around him, now fully holding you in the air against the mirrored wall behind you.
He repeats the pace of his fingers only moments ago and slams into you harshly and quickly, over and over again, desperate to feel you release around him again, knowing Frank could appear at any moment.
God, your familiar warm heat is absolute perfection, he thinks as he continues to bury himself into you over and over again. You’re still incredibly worked up from your previous climax and it takes just a few thrusts for you to be close again. The way your body is clamping around him and tensing lets him know just how close to ecstasy you are again.
Matt leans forward and you can feel his quickening breath against your ear once more.
“Damnit sweetheart, you scared me so bad. Made me think I was sharing you with someone else.” he grunts as he continues to drive his hips against yours.
“No Matty. I’m yours. Only yours — oh God. I promise.” you whimper back, arching into him further.
“Good. But to make sure you don’t forget, I’m gonna cum inside you, right now and every single night before you leave. So I’m dripping out of you after every hit, every kick. No matter how much Frank trains you. So you remember exactly who. You. Belong to.” he growls lowly against your skin, pushing you even more firmly against the cool glass with every thrust.
“Yes. Please Matt — Fuck. I’m all yours. I promise. Please.”
He thrusts one more time before he cums with a rumble of your name, his arms tightening around you, holding you impossibly close as he releases inside you just as he promised.
As he grinds against you in just the right way to hit that perfect spot one more time, your own orgasm sweeps over you. Your nails dig into his back, holding on to him as you let go, his harsh thrusts now slowed just enough so he can keep the both of you upright.
He feels you release, causing a final low groan from him, slowing down his pace, as your molten pleasure fades away. Still consumed by him and the feel of him holding you close, you lean your head back to rest against the mirror behind you as you catch your breath. Just as you feel like fully slumping against him, he sets you down gently.
You don't even really register him pulling away from you until he speaks.
“Might want to put your pants back on. Frank’s a block away and I don’t think you want him to know how I warmed you up before he got here.”
You open your eyes and see that Matt is already dressed, a smirk painted across his face as he listens to you scramble to put your clothes on.
Just as you’re adjusting your leggings back in to place, Frank and his large frame enter the gym.
“Hey –” he pauses at the sight of you and Matt in front of him, both sweaty and still panting a little.
“Hmmm. Guess Red knows now.” Frank grumbles
But then his eyes go wide.
“You wanna tell me what that’s about?” he asks with a point of his finger.
You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you turn behind you to see what he’s asking about. The mirror is covered in smudges that look vaguely like the outline shape of your body.
“We don’t talk about what happens at fight club…” Matt jokes as you bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.
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