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esyra · 6 months

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After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #may allah protect them #may almighty allah see our pain #hopefully she'll message me tomorrow

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teaboot · 1 year

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One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

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reikoknshii · 1 month

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Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

#that's not my neighbor #that's not my neighbor milkman #x reader #francis mosses #milkman #doppelgangers #oneshot

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caesium-55 · 2 months

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—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

#max verstappen #formula one #formula 1 #manager!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33

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baked-hylian · 2 years

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Y'know, it's a shame when a workplace thinks they can own their employees

#my shift is the only one forced to work longer hours if things aren't done #expected to work harder #and make up for days and afternoons slack #fucking anytime I tell my supervisor I can't stay past my scheduled shift of 8 hours #I am told that I needed to give them two week notice prior to that #but they can't give me two week notice when they're keeping me late #So I figure if they don't want me for at least the 8 hours #then they can have me for none tonight #ain't my fault the company doesn't repair its broken equipment #asks us to work with it #has such poor employee to supervisor relations that 4 people will quit in one day #supervisor was also literally yelling at my shift for not having things signed still running the previous days product etc.#like bitch please #you barely can make it in at 6am #and we had no supervisors in the plant to tell us to dump the tanks #our shift was already down four people (one of whom is someone who quit)#and then she expects us to still do all the extra shit on our shift #because heaven forbid those who work on her shift have to work a little harder

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luveline · 6 months

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hi miss jade <3 if it hasn’t been done already, could you possibly write poly!marauders with a depressed reader? maybe she’s having a particularly hard time lately and she’s trying to hide it from them but they notice she’s been really quiet recently. then one day while they’re all just sitting together, one of them looks over and sees a tear rolling down her cheek and they comfort her </3 if this isn’t something you’re up to writing i understand! thank you nonetheless lovely <3

thank u for ur request lovely!

modern au

“No,” Remus is whispering, “that's the other actor.”

James leans into his side. You've successfully crammed yourselves onto the three seater sofa, all four of you. You're on one arm, Sirius the other. If Sirius and James sit together during a movie they won't stop talking, and if you and Remus sit together you'll spend the entire movie telling each other what other movies the actors have been in.

James and Remus seem to have found a loophole. Sirius tries uselessly to reach over their shoulders to touch you, but James blocks him by accident, head tilting back in a laugh.

You aren't in the mood for movies. Not their fault, not anyone's, but a melancholy has its hooks in you, and you'd excuse yourself to spend time alone with it if it didn't immediately draw their attention. You're not sure you want to be alone, either.

James reaches for your hand even as he speaks to Remus excitedly, “He's Ryan Gosling, right?”

“Yeah, James,” —said with love— “that's Ryan Gosling.”

You hold James' hand. It's a very real, very gentle tether, but eventually the noise in the room turns white. You lay your cheek on the sofa arm and watch the movie pass by in colours. Dusky orange, pink, blue rain. Your hard times recently have felt longer, deeper, and you've floundered in them helplessly.

Though the boys couldn't make it worse, their devotion tends to hurt. You feel like you're letting them down whenever you can't fight your lethargy. Even now when you're together for a normal night, you're stuck under the weight of it. You could be playing with James’ hair the way he loves, or telling Remus something interesting about the movie. You could crawl across the two chatterboxes and ask Sirius what he did at work today while he draws shapes into the back of your hand. But you're not. And everything begins to feel worse.

The TV flickers. The room hums. The tear that slides down your cheek is hot as the drag of a pin.

You shift down into the arm to hide it as more follow. James pulls his hand away, and you assume he's just getting comfortable, but he puts it on your shoulder, the sofa whining as he leans in. “Hey…” he whispers, nearly too soft to hear. He must've been watching you. They've been doing that more and more lately.

Your shoulders shake as the first sob brews. They aren't overly loud, you aren't wound tightly enough to really cry, you're just defeated. Tired and scared that this feeling is forever.

The contented atmosphere in the room drains quicker than snapped fingers. “What's wrong?” Sirius asks.

You curl away from James. You can't pretend you aren't crying and you don't really want to, but something about his touch feels raw. He comes closer, leaning into you, hand chasing around to your front where it rests over your heart. “It's okay,” he says soundly. “Oh, honey, it's okay.”

James isn't as heavy with the pet names as the other two. When he does use them, they're genuine but said in high spirits. Almost like a joke, his ever-present humour shining through. He's warm and steady behind you, his lips brushing your ear as he hugs you to his chest. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry.”

Remus says your name unhappily. They know better than to converge on you, and James has always been good at comforting people. Maybe his solidness in both physicality and personality does him credit, but more likely it's his unending patience. He doesn't rush you into feeling better. He just stays right there at your side until you stop shaking.

“Sorry,” you say again, voice in fractured layers, “I don't know…”

“I know,” he says. “Let's sit up, okay? Sit up.”

Remus gives you a look with just enough heartbreak that when he holds out his hand, you raise yourself up, knowing James will take you by the waist and help you over his lap. You smush in between their legs as Remus wipes your face dry, and Sirius meets your eyes around his shoulder. It all works to lift the weight from your chest, not fully, but enough to breathe.

“You don't have to explain.”

“Just don't cry more,” Sirius begs. He really hates tears, doesn't know what to do with them. “You're too lovely for tears.”

“Unless you need to,” James says.

“Right,” Sirius agrees through a wince.

“She's okay,” Remus says, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, “hmm? You're alright.”

He isn't pressuring you into pretending things are better than they are, he's encouraging, and he knows as you know that you're not very well, but you'll manage in the end. You sink back into James arms and smile at them weakly.

“I'm okay. I just wanted James to rub my stomach, that's all.”

“Theatrics in the name of attention,” Sirius says proudly. “As you should.”

James wraps his arms around your front, giving your abdomen a squeeze as he leans down to say, “I'll rub your stomach all night if you want me to,” with a warmth so tender it escapes words.

Remus drops back into Sirius rather aggressively. “Make haste.”

“Make haste?” Sirius presses his nose into Remus’ curls, his voice dripping with a feigned contempt, “You make haste, you sick freak.” And then he raises his hand to cover Remus' stomach in mirror of James’ touch.

You breathe out long and slow, eyes closing of their own accord. “I'm not going to sleep, okay? I'm just tired.”

James gets comfortable underneath you. “Do what you want, babe. I'm here for the night. If I need to pee I'll just hoist you into Moony's lap for a bit.”

“I can fit two, thanks,” Sirius interjects.

“Fine. I'll hoist you into his lap. Though I've no clue why you'd want to spend any time with that bossy bastard.”

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

#pre-steddie #my fic #prompt #sophomore eddie is a jerk #but only because he thinks steves gonna be a jerk first so hes gotta beat him to it #also steves very mean to eddie in his thoughts but its only his thoughts #tw: minor character death #its an oc tho #tw: suicide implied but not stated

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strawberries-and-summer-days · 2 months

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"The Dare"

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x demeter!fem!reader

Summary: You and luke have been best friends forever but after the incident things have been awkward between the two of you. Until you're forced to spend the night together...

Contains: percabeth, angst?? (i think? idk bro), swearing, fluff, kissing, ONE FUCKING BED TROPE

Word Count: 2223 did i get carried away? yes.

A/N: Im back bitches! yes i disappeared there lol, but i've resurfaced with my luke obsession (its never going to end). i've always had a small obsession with living in buses and so from that came this. i have little to no idea what im writing here im going off a random idea while half sleep deprived :)

You roll your eyes and grumble as you follow Annabeth out of the apartment.

"This is stupid," you groan. "I'm serious. Are we really going through with this shit dare?"

Annabeth just smirks, shaking her head. "Yes, y/n. We're not going to be chickens and back out," she turns around and eyes you. "It's one night, besides, Percy and I will be there."

You roll your eyes and grip the strap of your bag a little harder. One night with Luke Castellan? After the incident? No way. Nuh uh. You'd rather step on a lego than that.

"Annabeth," you groan.

"Y/n," she looks back with a dead serious look. "I will drag you there if I have to."

"It's a bus!" you almost shriek, but noticing the few people who turn their heads at you, you quiet down and pocket your apartment keys. "I'm serious. Where'd they even find a damn bus? It's a bus!"

"I know!" Annabeth grins, clearly ignoring your bad mood. "I've never stayed in a bus before. This is going to be so cool!"

"Who the fuck hires a bus out to live in?" you grumble clearly pissed.

"Percy-fucking-jackson- that's who," a voice in the distance yells. You look up and fight the wave of panic that overcomes you when you see Luke and Percy walking towards you both.

"I found the two best buses in the area!" Percy announces dropping his bag at his feet. Luke stands just behind him with a forced smile on his face.

"Wait two?" you ask suddenly, your face scrunching up.

"Yeah four of us couldn't fit in one so I hired two out," he says. "The guy was really chill about it and they're parked right next to each other!"

The cab pulls up and all four of you clamber in. Percy in the front, Luke, you and Annabeth in the back. Annabeth being squished between you and Luke.

"this fucking bet," you mutter to yourself, trying to ignore the palpable tension in the cab.

Luke was basically sweating through his t-shirt. He was so glad to have a sweater on, covering his nervousness.

When the four of you had arrived at the bus guys house two pieces of news reached him. One; that while buses look big, they can't fit more than two people. Two; he was going to be sharing a bus with y/n.

Y/n.

The girl he's been desperately in love with since the day she showed up at camp.

This was either going to be really bad, or really bad. He sighs as he picks his bag and climbs into the bus you're both staying in.

It's got a nice crisp, white interior with flashes of wood throughout it. Luke drops the bag on the sofa that runs along the edge of the bus meeting with the kitchen counter.

He sighs when he hears you enter the bus. You awkwardly shuffle past him and put your bag on the bed. The bed. There is only one bed.

Motherfu-

"Y/n!" Annabeth calls out to you climbing inside and dragging you out. "They have connecting rooftop decks!" she cries and pulls herself up onto the ladder. Chattering to herself about how cool this place is, and even though you can't help it you let a smile slip onto your face.

You think you see something inside the bus but it's just Luke's back.

Sighing you clamber on behind her trying your very best to forget the fact that there is ONE BED. ONE BED. Oh gods. You smirk seeing Annabeths cheeks turn bright red when Percy whispers in her ear.

"Am I interrupting anything?" you laugh when you see her whip her head around and blush even more.

"So have you changed your mind about the buses?" Percy eyes you.

You roll your eyes and move your shoulders in what you think is a half shrug but it just ends up making you look like you're trying to do a weird dance move.

"Ahh, so you think it's a dance worthy bus?"

"No that's not what I meant-" you start but Percy jumps up and starts to shimmy.

"I'm actually gonna push you off this roof," you mutter when a presence comes up behind you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It's him. You suck in a breath and force a smile.

"So what's for dinner?"

Three hours later you are all sprawled out in Percy and Annabeth's bus with boxes of pizza and containers of blue ice cream (courtesy of Percy, thank you) around you all.

"I'm not getting up ever again," Percy groans from his spot over the table next to Luke.

"Well, to make sure Percy dies in peace let's play truth or dare!" Annabeth smirks.

"No!" you and Luke both burst out at the same time.

"Relax, babies," Annabeth teases, and pats Percy on the head before groaning and pulling herself up off the seat. "I'm not going to put you through all that again," she says, picking up the boxes and putting them in the small bin.

The tension in the room suddenly increased. And you swore you could hear a pin drop. Silence descended and you slowly peel yourself off the seat. "I'm gonna go."

You slip out of the bus breathing in the night air trying your best to not blush.

Luke watches as you walk out of the bus and groans when he sees Percy and Annabeth's knowing looks.

"You couldn't be cool about it could you?" Percy asks Annabeth.

"What?" she shoots him a look. "They've got to get over it sometime! It's Luke and y/n. They're best friends. I feel like a grandma helping the two bozos get over whatever happened that day. Nobody even knows what happened!"

Luke sighs and collects himself. "Right I'll leave you two, and go deal with this incredibly awkward night by myself."

Annabeth starts to say something but Luke cuts her off. "I swear to god Annabeth! Please don't make this worse than it already is, I'm trying my very best to not focus on the fact that its weird between y/n. So please, please don't say anything to her that'll scare her off. I want to talk to her first."

Annabeth just smirks and nods pushing you out of the bus as Percy wraps an arm around her waist. "Of course lover-boy."

Luke rolls his eyes and walks over to his bus and clambers inside, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He makes his way over to the back of the bus.

You're sitting on the bed on top of the covers, in beach themed pj's (thank you again Percy) and playing with a small flower crown you'd made. Luke falters slightly when he sees you. You look so calm and at peace that he can't help the small smile that slips onto his lips.

Luke has been trying his very best to talk to you ever since the incident a few weeks ago - when this dare was made - but you've been avoiding him, scampering off whenever he tries to talk to you.

You still haven't noticed him and a bright grin lights up your face when you add some daisies to the crown. Luke's heart warms and he clears his turning around to dig in his bag for sleeping clothes.

Your eyes shoot up and your smile wavers. "Hey," your voice is meek. "Do you... uh want," you clear your throat. "Uh... um, which side of the bed do you want"

Luke spins around. "Uh, I'll take the couch. Don't worry about it."

You sigh, stifling your nerves. "Luke, it's a bench seat with padding. Just choose a side of the bed."

Panic flits into his eyes and you're reminded of the way he acted the night of the incident. It's been rocky ground ever since then and you've avoided him as much as you can. Being hopelessly in love with the Luke Castellan is clearly not an easy task.

"Choose Luke."

Luke nods to the left side of the bed and you move over letting him sit on the edge of the bed. His presence calming you while at the same time putting you on edge.

"G'night Luke," you mumble and he smiles at the sleepiness of your voice. "But don't you dare come on my side of the bed."

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you're warm. It's cozy and you just want to snuggle into the warmth more.

The second thing is that you're lying on top of Luke's arm. If you roll to the right you'll fall off the bed and if you roll to the left you roll into him. Him, Luke. The reason you're so warm right now.

Pulling yourself up you try to move away from him but his arm wraps around your waist and you freeze. "No stay, sunflower," he mutters in a sleepy daze.

Sunflower. Luke hasn't called you that in a long time and it always makes your insides melt.

"Sunflower?" you whisper and Luke's head whips up.

"Y/n?" he says softly.

"Luke?" you whisper back.

"What are we doing?" he asks, noticing his arms around your waist and the fact that you haven't instantly pulled away.

You look up at him. His dark curly hair tousled by sleep and the focused look in his eyes making you very tempted to stay like this forever. But remembering the night of the incident you pull away and clamber out of the bed, cheeks flushing.

"Y/n," your name comes out of his mouth almost tortured.

You ignore him and continue to walk down to where the drapes aren't shut, peaking out to see if Percy and Annabeth are awake yet. And judging by the fact that it's first light.

A blanket wraps around your shoulders. You turn your head to see Luke standing there- shit, he's shirtless. Your eyes trail down his body in a daze. Woah.

Holy Shit.

Now you've seen him shirtless before, but this, this feels more personal somehow. You look up at him, an amused smirk gracing his lips.

"I'm going up onto the deck to watch the sunrise," you say, not looking at him. "Let me know when Annabeth and Percy are awake so I can get out of this dump."

You open the door and climb on to the roof deck, dragging the comforter up with you because yes, as much as you want to be all tough shit and all its freezing and you want the damn warmth - besides it smells like Luke as well.

Luke follows you outside after he puts a shirt on and plops down on the deck next to you. Without even thinking about it you open the comforter for him and he wraps it around himself as well.

"Sunflower, we need to talk."

Here it comes. The inevitable rejection.

"Okay," your voice is small.

"About that night..." he starts trailing off.

"Look," you cut him off, wanting to save yourself the embarrassment. "You don't have to say anything. I get it. That night I kinda jumped on you and I'm sorry. I get it, you were on the spot and then I started acting really weird. But I get it. You don't feel the sa-"

You feel a kiss press gently onto the corner of your lips. What? Pulling back you look at him in shock. "No, please don't humor me on this Luke." A lump forms in your throat.

"Humor you?" Luke asks, puzzled. "Sunflower, I'm not humoring you. I'm serious. That night... I freaked out, I was so surprised when you told me that you liked me, that I froze. Hearing the one thing I'd been dreaming about for years, shocked me," he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration.

"So you don't hate me?" you ask.

"Hate you? No Sunflower, I love you."

Your eyes flit up to his and in the few seconds you take to try and think of something to say Luke presses his lips to yours, pulling you close. You gasp and meet his lips with force.

Luke wraps his arms around your waist, laying you down on the deck, him hovering above you not breaking the kiss once. You wrap your arms around his neck and part your lips, moaning when he slips his tongue inside your mouth. The comforter, forgotten beside you both.

Luke kisses you as if he's never seen the sun before and you are the bright beams shining on the earth for the first time. He kisses you adoringly and groans when you slip your tongue into his mouth. He gently bites your lip and pulls back, gasping for air.

"I love you, Luke," you heave catching your breath. Luke's face breaks into a grin and he presses a soft kiss on the end of your nose.

"Love you, Sunflower."

"Love you, Luke."

He sits you up and wraps the comforter around you both. Resting your head on Luke's shoulder you settle in next to him wrapping an arm around his waist. You swear you can hear Annabeth and Percy cheering in their bus.

"I'm gonna kill them," you mutter.

"I got some ideas," he chuckles back.

#luke castellan #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan pjo #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fic #fanfic #fanfiction #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

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angelltheninth · 7 months

Text

Genshin Men + Types of Punishment

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Childe, Pantalone, Dottore, Wriothesley, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, punishments, dom/sub dynamic, painplay, denial, teasing, self-degradation, orgasm control, clit stimulation, toy use

A/N: There are a lot of fun ways to punish someone that aren't just hard, fast, rough fucking sessions. But they're just as fun if not more so.

Kaeya will punish you by not taking you on that date he promised you, effectively cutting your alone time short. Tricking him into it won't work either, he knows how much you want to go, but giving him a hardon like that while he was talking to his team, that was a bad idea. If you waited a bit more he might have been generous and hurried his duties along. Now you don't get to see him for the rest of the day, which he knows will make you more desperate for him.

Diluc punishes you by making you take a very cold shower when you get home. You need one after getting so hot and bothered that he caught you fingering yourself in the backroom of the winery. Someone else could have walked in, and then what, you couldn't suck them off like you did him. That was the only fun you'll get for the rest of the day. Now go, take your shower then come back to him, he won't fuck you but he will cuddle with you.

Itto by making you jump on his cock and when you're so close to finishing he will pull you off and put you into a timeout essentially. So fun to see your whole body shaking, rocking back and forth as his cum drips down your legs and you're forced to hold still until he tells you that you can move. He can still move. He can walk up and finish shooting his cum all over your pretty body and you have to stay still and take it. If you can manage then you can come back and ride him until you come.

Childe gives you physical punishment for not listening to him. He makes you take every teasing slap on your ass at the same time as he rubs your clit and every time you dare ask for more he slaps a little harder bit his other hand slows. No begging. No anything. You know that he's the one in charge of your pleasure don't you? If he smacks your ass it's because he wanted to, not because you asked. Same goes for making you orgasm.

Pantalone makes you do extra things around the house and not even think about touching him or yourself while you're doing so, but he will also have you wear a remote controlled vibrator up your pussy the whole time. Keeping a close eye on you he makes sure you don't cross a line that he ordered you not to. These chores can take hours, making your pussy sore and aching by the end, and still having his hard cock to take.

Dottore punishes you by making you say degrading things about yourself every time he asks you a question. Sure it's fun when he calls you names but he gets so hard when you call yourself his slut. His. Or when you get on all fours and beg him to fuck you like a bitch in heat that you are, to cum inside you because that's all you're good for. There's nothing he wants to hear more then you being a good, slutty girl for him.

Wriothesley makes sure to leave handprints all over your ass, thighs and even face when he fucks you later, make you enjoy the pain. It was a long process, him starting off very gentle, playing attention to what parts made your pussy flutter the most and then applying more force to those areas. Eventually he was able to make you into a perfect painplay toy for him. And your clothes? Always the kind that shows off the hand marks on your body.

Zhongli will ignore you for the rest of the day. You could be sucking his cock all you like but he won't give you a single reaction, not a single glance. Beg him all that you want, he has work to do and you won't pull him away from it. The next morning is a different story, but there are so many hours until then and what will you do with your horniness until then? Nothing. Because the only person who can make it go away is choosing not to.

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celestialwhoree · 22 days

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I love poly 141 x (fem/afab)reader way too much, so what if reader finds out that she’s pregnant? Like me personally I love it when I’m reading a silly lil fic and the fmc hides her pregnancy until it’s a bit noticeable but like obvi they’d have really good trust in each other, reader would tell them after she misses her period and she’s taken a test etc etc :D

Too many thoughts on this so sorry if it doesn’t make sense LOL

-R

YES YES YES YES I especially love when her partner sort of notices something is up, but doesn't push until she's ready to tell, even though he probably found the test in the bin or something🤭🤚

The main problem with keeping secrets in your relationship? John. Captain John Price.

He's always been hyper vigilant towards your needs - towards every minute aspect of your life. He knows how stressful it can be to not only share your home with four people, but four stressed, grumpy, massive military men with a penchant for eating you out of house and home? In his eyes you're a saint for putting up with all of them.

Because of this, he tries to streamline your day to day life as much as possible. The fridge stays stocked, as does the bathroom cabinet, always supplied with nice shampoos and conditioners, your favourite body lotion, and practically the entire sanitary product aisle of your local store.

The first red flag is the fact that the window during which you usually have your period has been and gone, and none of the new boxes of tampons he restocked have been opened.

He doesn't think much of it though, rationalising that maybe it's just late, or that you'd had some leftover from last month that you'd used up. Later on though, when Kyle comes home to you bent double over the kitchen sink, hurling up your guts, concerns raise substantially. He'd only been coming in to grab the charger for his laptop when he'd heard the ruckus, and promptly called for a day off to look after you.

You soon realise what's up, and promptly shit yourself when you realise that you're carrying a baby with four potential dads. Like Mamma Mia but so much worse - and with far less wonderful Greek architecture and bright sunshine.

The boys all manage to work it out before you do, especially when you cry until Simon takes you to your local drive-thru for burger pickles and a milkshake. Just burger pickles and a milkshake. They're all surprisingly calm about the fact that you're pregnant, albeit slightly concerned that they should maybe nudge you in the right direction, seeing as you try to go about day-to-day life when you can't even smell cheese without barfing.

When you do eventually stalk into the living room with a pregnancy test in hand, and a sheepish look on your face, they try their hardest not to act surprised, even though they've already been going through paint samples for the nursery, wondering which one you'll like best - and they hope, for your sake, that it's a girl. God forbid there's any more testosterone in your house.

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cybertronic69 · 8 months

Text

:p savage starlight

you and ellie, for some reason, never got along very well. you would say you two pretty much hated each other. ellie would say you're the prettiest thing she's ever seen the same. and today you two got paired up for patrol.

warnings: enemies to lovers , loser!ellie , nerd!ellie , sub!ellie , nipple sucking (e!receiving) , clit rubbing (e!receiving) , thigh riding (r!receiving)

◇

"come on! we gotta go..." ellie is impatiently knocking on your door. when you open it with a grumpy expression, she sighs. "hey, dumbass, we're patrolling together today."

"why the fuck do they keep pairing us up together?" you mumble as you start to walk with ellie right by your side.

"don't know, don't care, i could just go without you." ellie says and that's an absolute lie. patrolling with you is the best part of her week. she doesn't want you to know that. you just roll your eyes at that as you both keep walking in the streets of jackson.

ellie stays silent for a few seconds. "i just realized something. you suck" she blurts out like you asked.

"oh, yeah? why?" usually you'd just ignore her but today was a boring day so she might as well be useful and entertain you.

"yeah." she stated plainly. "i can name a thousand reasons why you suck."

you let out a snicker. "go on..."

"alright. number one. you're an annoying little shit with a punchable face." ellie blurts out with a bland expression. she was hoping this could get a reaction out of you. like some curses being thrown at her. she was kinda into it. she also doesn't want you to know that. you chuckle at her words. you think she's actually kind of funny. you dont want her to know that.

"number two. you're always making dumbass statements that piss me off." ellie's eyes are focused on every little movement of your face.

"really?" you raise an eyebrow "name one."

"well for starters, when we first met you said that a dinosaur with horns called 'triceratops' was a unicorn." she narrows her eyes at you.

"who cares..." you let out a dramatic sigh. "they're all fucking dead anyways"

"i care. number three. i want to punch you in the face when you give me that dumb look of yours." she says, rolling her eyes.

you snicker. you really do give her a dumb look sometimes. pisses her off. at least that's you think. "anything else?"

"of course. i have a list of your habits in my notebook that annoys me." she snarks.

"i think you a crush on me ellie... did you ever think about that?" you whisper in teasing tone and give her a smug grin like you just got her.

"god no. number four. the way you walk pisses me off." she's not looking at you this time.

"just admit it... it's obvious you're obsessed with me." your eyes sparkle with mischief. "didn't you just say you write about me in your little love diary or whatever?"

"notebook. i said notebook." she says as her breath starts to hitch.

"yeah, yeah... notebook, diary.... whatever" you roll your eyes. "doesn't change the fact that you think about so much that you have to write about it."

she turns a bright shade of red and suddenly stops walking. "can you... just shut up? your voice is annoying. that'd be number five."

"that's pathetic, you know that? you liking me" you tease as you watch her face getting even more flushed.

"dude. i dont like you. i literally can't stand you. shut up." she mumbles as she looks away.

"ok. so you totally despise me, right?" you whisper as you slowly walk closer to her.

ellie feels like she's about to pass out. you smell so good. your skin looks so soft. your lips- "y-yes." she stutters. "i hate you." she can't even look you in the eyes anymore. her gaze is glued to the ground.

you can't help but chuckle. god, was she a mess. "yeah?" you hold her chin with your index finger, making her look at you. ellie blushed profusely. she was unable to utter any words as she look up at you, her face flushed.

"pussy." you whisper against her face.

she turns her head away again and closes her eyes hard. "shut up." she mumbles.

"can't even admit it to yourself..." you gently caress her cheek. "tell me the truth."

she stays silent for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. "...i've liked you ever since you said that a triceratops was a unicorn."

"that's cute." you smile at her. it wasn't a mocking grin like she'd usually get from you. it was a true soft smile that made ellie's heart beat faster.

"um... shut up..." she mumbles awkwardly. she can't belive she just said that to you.

"is that the best comeback you could come up with?" you gently brush her hair out of her pretty face.

ellie blushes at your soft touch and finally looks up at you again. "maybe it is. i'm not very good with comebacks. or anything, really."

"you were good at roasting me back there." you twirl a lock of her hair in between your fingers. "but i guess you had a lot of time to think about it beforehand..."

"yeah. i... to be honest.. i think about you a lot." she whispers and closes her eyes at your gentle touch. oh, she was cute. her cheeks were still pink and her pretty lips were slightly quivering from the tension in the air.

you gently press your lips against her cheek. "what do you think about?"

when she feels your soft lips on her skin she really really has to try her best to hold in a moan. "well usually, i think of, uh." she seems hesitant to say anything."i think of how pretty i think you are." she continues, now looking up at you. "sometimes, I think about how much i want to kiss you."

the corners of your mouth slightly curl up in a little smile. "yeah? what else?"

"i uh.." ellie is speechless for a moment. then, she begins to speak quietly. "i think about how much I love hearing your voice."

"i'm pretty sure you said my voice is annoying..." you tease but a soft smile is still plastered on your face.

ellie looks down at the ground. "i mean...your voice is annoying when you say stupid things." she teases back, in a attempt to hide her blush. despite her best efforts, her face was still red. "but, your voice sounds pretty when you say certain things."

"what things?" you start to trace little invisible circles on her cheek.

"well, um.." she begins to whisper, softly. "your voice is pretty when you say my name."

"really?" you press a kiss on her cheek. "ellie." a kiss on her forehead. "ellie." a kiss on her temple. "ellie." a kiss on her chin. "ellie..." you stop right in front of her lips.

she couldn't speak for a moment, as your touch made her even more flustered. "yeah... it's pretty when you say it like that." she whispers softly.

"do you want a kiss?" you whisper in a tone just as soft.

"what-" she's taken aback by the question, and she feels herself blush even more. "uh, yeah?" she managed to whisper, very quietly. you gently lock lips with her, and ellie instantly moans when she feels your hot tongue against hers. she gently holds your face with her hands as you caress her hair during the kiss. when you both pull back out of breath, you see her lips wet with saliva as she's trying to recompose herself. she looks way too cute... you're only human. you get closer to her again and gently suck on her bottom lip.

ellie let out a noise in between a groan and a whimper at this. "can i... can i have another one?"

"yeah... you can... later... when we're back... " you plant a soft peck on her cheek and start walking. "there's something i want to give you."

she looks extremely flustered with all of this. "oh... okay." she tries to hold back a smile when you offer your hand to her. she takes it. "what is it that you want to give me?"

you couldn't wait. "just walk..." you say in a soft voice.

◇

"uh... make yourself at home." ellie awkwardly says as the both of you get to her room. that was your idea, of course.

"nice place..." you whisper as you look around. comic books, video games and little action figures were all over the place. god, she was such a nerd.

"thanks..." she's nervous and you can feel it. you have to do something about that.

"oh... savage starlight, huh?" you dont know who the fuck savage starlight is but ellie, on the other hand, has tons of these comic books lying around.

her eyes shine. "oh yessss!" she smiles excitedly at you. "do you read that too?"

you shake you head and can't help but smile with her. so cute. god. "no... is it cool?"

ellie grabs a few comic books and pat the spot on the bed next to her. "so cool... here. let me show you" when you sit by her side, you notice a pair of glasses at her nightstand, and your heart beats faster. she wears glasses. oh. my. god. ellie notices you looking. "ah yeah... i have to wear those when i read... helps with headaches."

you grab the glasses and gently put it on her face. "since you're reading now..."

ellie blinks and swallows hard. "y-yes... so savage starlight..." she starts talking. "it's about her adventures in space... i like it because starlight is pretty cool." ellie then turns to you, tilts her head, and adds in a small whisper. "kind of like you." she said and then continued. "also..." you had to fuck her. all that talk about her nerdy stuff, and how she looked with those glasses, and how her fingers traced the pages of the comic book, and... "...and then she discovered like... a way to travel faster... with a jump drive..." ellie keeps talking and don't even notice your lustful gaze at her.

you lay your head on her shoulder and pretend to pay attention the comic book. "a jump drive, els?" you whisper softly.

"yeah... and the bad guys are called the t-" her voice cracks when she feels you planting a hot kiss on her neck." the travelers...."

"yeah? what else?" you bury your face on her neck.

ellie takes a deep breath. "they're like... aliens..." she bites her lip hard when she feels another kiss on her neck. "a-and... they want to..."

you sit in her lap, straddling her thigh. "they want to...?"

she stares up at you with the most miserable look ever known to man plastered on her face. "...want to destroy... the earth..."

you start to firmly massage her shoulders that are really tense. "so savage starlight is going to beat them up?"

ellie presses her lips in a thin line, scared to let any noises come out. then she starts talking again. "yeah... her name is daniela star... she's... a doctor..."

"hmmm..." you peck her jaw.

"and... and then..." she takes a deep breath.

"and then what?" you slowly start to move your hips on her thigh, back and forth.

ellie's hands immediately get to your hips, and she buries her head on your shoulder. she takes another deep breath. god, you're evil. "and then... like... the travelers have this technology..." you suck hard on her neck, and she groans. "and... starlight... is now friends with..." ellie's voice is whiny, shaky, and breathy. "...with this one guy... he's the captain of...." you slide one hand down her body and cup her pussy. "....nngh... a... s-spaceship..." she shuts her eyes hard.

you lick your lips. "spaceship, huh?" you squeeze her chest as you bite her neck.

ellie digs her fingers into your hips. she's panting, her face is hot and she feels like she's about to faint. "....u-um..."

"keep talking, els... im interested..." you smile against her neck.

"t-the spaceship... crashes... but they survivenngh...." her voice turns into a whine when you start to rub your clothed cunt against her thigh even harder. "o-oh... i... i like the-the way... i-i, i-i like... i-i like th-that you're u-up on m-me... right now."

"yeah? you like it? can i make you like it even more...?" you press a kiss on her ear. "hm?"

"y-yes... yes please..." she whines. you lock lips with her, and ellie lets out a noise again. you're full on feeling her up now, your hands touching, cupping, and squeezing every part of her body.

"is this okay?" you whisper softly as your hands start to slowly lift her shirt up. "how far can i go?"

she takes a deep breath so her words won't be sloppy. "you can do whatever you want with me..."

you feel your pussy clench at her words. "whatever i want?" you whisper in a breathy tone. she was getting to you.

ellie nods. she wrap her arms around you, bringing your body even closer to hers as you're in her lap. "anything..."

"i... wanna take this off..." you gently tug at the hem of her shirt. "and maybe this too..." your fingers trace the buttons of her jeans. ellie nods again, eagerly. she takes her shirt off, and your gaze is now glued to her small, perky breasts. "oh..." you take her pink hardened nipple in between your fingers, and she whimpers. "god..." your mouth starts to water. you push her back in the bed, still mounting her hips. "els... you're too pretty..." you take her nipple into your mouth and gently suck on it. ellie mewls. her hips start to buckle up against yours. she has never felt anything like this before. of course, she would rub one out from time to time... maybe every night... when you sat too close to her... and she could smell the scent of your shampoo... and your knee accidentally touched hers... she had no choice. it's your fault. somehow she'd always end up there, in her bed, late at night, biting the pillow with two fingers moving back and forth inside her tight cunt. but it never felt this good... "els..." you whisper and she looks down at you with glossy eyes, her glasses almost slipping off her nose. "wanna fuck you..." she can't even say anything anymore. she just nods eagerly again as little gasps escape her lips. your body is completely on top of hers, you hips lined up with her left thigh. "lets do it like this..." you start kissing her neck again as your hand slips under her jeans. "raise your thigh..." ellie is complete mess right now so it takes a while for her to take your words in. she raises her thigh, pressing it against your cunt. "mmh...yes... im gonna fuck myself on your thigh... and touch this pretty pussy of yours, ok?" you whisper breathlessly in her neck.

ellie whimpers at your words. "y-yes... so... g-g..."

you whimper with her. "so good, right, baby?" you're pressing your clothed cunt against her thigh and gasp when ellie moves her body with you, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. ellie is a whimpering mess when you slowly start to rub her little clit with a light amount of pressure. her hips are trembling and she has her face buried in your neck, her lips brushing against your skin. you're desperate. it feels too good to be close to her like this. you wanna make her cum. you wanna cum. and just like that, like she was reading your mind, ellie presses her thigh even harder against your pussy and you moan. you quicken the pace of your fingers on her clit and she cries out. her veiny hands grip hard on your hips moving them on her thigh. you cry out too.

ellie starts babbling. "want... you to... fucking... sit... on my face... wanna taste your pussy... so fucking bad..." she rolls her hips against your hand.

"yeah?" you whisper in breathy tone cause now you can't stop staring at her pretty lips without picturing them wrapping around your clit and sucking it.

"nngh... yeah.... so bad..." she grunts. "oh fuck... im g-gonna cum" her eyes are tearing up when she throws her head back. "cum with me... please..." she whimpers.

you nod desperately as you grind you pussy against her thigh even harder, the fabric of her jeans rubbing right on your clit. "im c-close, els..."

"shit... are you?" she whispers with the same desperate expression as you. "please, babe... cum with me..." she grabs your ass and presses your pussy against her thigh even faster. you bite her shoulder when you feel your orgasm hitting you and that was all ellie needed. she came hard on your fingers with a loud curse leaving her lips. you're both panting as you take your slick covered hand off ellie's jeans. her gaze is following your every moment so when you take your fingers inside your mouth and moan she moans with you. you kiss her lips with your fingers still inside your mouth. it's kinda nasty... and disgusting... and everything else on the book but ellie doesn't mind. in fact she seems very eager to do more of these nasty things with you in the future. and so are you.

◇

#i ❤️ loser!ellie #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #tlou 2 ellie #tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams smut

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cassandraclare · 3 months

Text

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

#the wicked powers

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seoliee · 2 months

Text

LAD Men as Cats

Here again to serve pure fluffiness. I love cats and I love LAD Men. So, I thought, why don't I try to mix the two together and here we are.

Kind of weird to make my precious fishy; Rafayel into a cat though because he absolutely hates them.

Oh and no, Caleb in this one. I might make a separate one for him though like I did last time. I'LL STOP NOW SORRY.

What if they're your pet cats?

Word Count: 1.5k words

— RAFAYEL : Grey Birman

• Rafayel was a birthday gift from your best friend. You were immediately pulled in by his mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shine and bore deep within you. The first time you took him into your arms, he looks up at you with a guarded gaze followed up with a low growl.

• It didn't take long for Rafayel to get used to you and his new surroundings, his bursts of energy zooming all over the place that you sometimes can't keep up with him.

• Being an office worker and situated to work from home. You're always confined in your study and in front of a computer often leaving Rafayel on his own company.

• There was a time that you were in a zoom call with your bosses when Rafayel leaps up on your computer desk. He meows softly, trying to get your attention but you were far too focused on your work. He rubs the side of his face on your hand that rests on top of the mouse, and you returned the gesture by petting his cheek in which he purrs at.

• Rafayel walks in front of you, blocking your vision with his built and his fluffy fur as his long puffy tail glides under your chin in the playful manner. You excused yourself from the call and places him down. "Not now, Rafayel. Be patient." You gave him a quick pet before returning to your call.

• Being a very affectionate and somewhat mischievous cat. Rafayel wouldn't let that slide. He leaps up on top of a drawer where one of your mini ornaments were located, eyeing one of them. He heard you calling him, mouthing words that says 'Don't think about it.' So now you finally gave him the attention he wants. His paw gently hits the ornament off of the drawer as it fell down on the carpet flooring and he scurries away.

• After the call ended. You went to pick up the fallen ornament and much to your relief it wasn't broken. When you went downstairs, you saw Rafayel perched down on the armrest of your couch, his eyes on you. He jumped off, running up to you and rubbing himself and subtly wrapping his tail around your legs while purring. Acting as if nothing happened.

• You sigh, picking him up into your arms. You can't stay mad at him. "You're a very naughty kitty, y'know that?" You pull him into your arms, hugging him as he leans into your touch. "But it's part of your charm." Though, you still have to reprimand his actions by not giving him any treats in the next few days.

— XAVIER : White Turkish Angora

• You arrived home from work only to see a puff of white ball on your porch. You slowly got closer, realizing it's a cat curled into a ball and sleeping. You crouched down to take a closer look.

• The cat wakes up, stretching its limps then looking up at you with narrowed sleepy eyes, blinking slowly. You were sure it would scurry away, but it didn't even moved an inch from its spot.

• You reached your hand out to it, waiting for it to do something, but it only watches as your hand gets closer, letting you scratch the side of its head and leaning into your hand which melted your heart immediately. The cat got up on its four legs, and goes to rub against you. There you noticed it doesn't have a collar on. You obviously can't leave it to fend for itself out in the coldness of the night so you did the most reasonable thing and let it inside. The cat immediately went over to your couch, finding a good spot and going back to sleep. It's as if it already owns your place, you think.

• The next morning. You visit the local veterinary clinic to get the cat checked. There, you found out it's a male cat. You made eye contact with him, silently apologizing for calling him a 'she' last night. The vet also said he doesn't have a microchip on him, but is a very healthy cat, adding that he's also very friendly and calm.

• Once both of you are home. You took decent pictures of him, deciding to make posters and spread it around the neighborhood in case he has a family. After all, he might've had a collar, but lost it somewhere. You heard a low meowing sound, switching your gaze down and there he is looking up at you expectedly. "You're hungry, aren't you?" You chuckled, going into the kitchen and him following you. You open the cupboard, taking out a can of wet catfood and transferring its contents on his bowl afterwards setting it down, allowing him to eat. You decide to keep him until his owners claim him. If nobody comes for him in a month, you're going to keep him.

• The next days were quite eventful. You came home to him waiting for you by the door, greeting you with a very happy meow which dissipates all your fatigue away. Ever since having him, you no longer felt lonely and you always looked forward to coming home. He always slept next to you, and wakes up at the same time as you. He practically follows you everywhere in the house which you found adorable and endearing.

• You sat down on your couch with him laying comfortably on your lap as you pet his fur. Instead of watching whatever is on the television, your eyes are on him. A thought came into your mind, and that's naming him. But, you quickly tossed the thought away as naming him would only make you more attached to him and by then, letting him go would hurt you than it should've. Your chest felt tight at the thought of losing his companionship. It may sound selfish, but you silently prayed that nobody would come to claim him.

• One day, you came home from work and as usual he's there at the door step waiting for her like he always does. You pick him up into your arms, then setting him down on the couch and kneeling in front of him. You open your bag to take something out and reaches your hands to the back of his head. You retreat your hands away, letting the light tag rest on his neck and engraved with the name 'Xavier'.

• Indeed, a month has already passed and thankfully, nobody came. "Xavier. Do you like that name?" As if responding to her. Xavier goes up to you and gently licked your chin, you melt and nuzzles against him which he reciprocates with a loud purr. You will no longer feel lonely with Xavier around.

— ZAYNE : Black Persian

• Zayne was given to you by your cousin who told you she couldn't keep him anymore because him and her other male cat kept attacking each other. You, on the other hand have no qualms on adopting him. The thought of having a non-human companion is better than having an actual human.

• Zayne is a very quiet and aloof cat. Very quiet. At first, you thought that all cats are like him, but you watched a few cat videos where some of them would act like him, but have random bursts of energy at times and are playful. Zayne on the other hand, you looked at him at the other end of the couch, he seemed to mind his own business and is very cold.

• You tried to play with the toy stick with a mouse attached on the end only for him to ignore you completely. He didn't even spared you a single glance. You never thought there will be a time where your heart was broken by a cat. From that moment, you made a vow to yourself that you would make him love you.

• You started by inching closer, petting his head. At first, he moved away from your hand and ran off. But, you didn't stop and kept on trying until he would only flinch for a bit, but never run away. Though, he never purred.

• Then one day, you came home later than usual from work. To your surprise, you saw Zayne by the porch of your front door, as if waiting for you. You took him into your arms, snuggling him close. "You must've been worried. I'm sorry." Once they're inside, he jumped out of your arms and went back to his usual self. You only chuckled, this is the most affection you can get from him and you won't complain anymore.

• The next morning. You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see what she always sees in the morning, but a tuff of black fur blocks your vision. Your heart warms and melts. This is the first time Zayne has slept on your bed and right next to you. Most importantly, he's purring. Your hand moves on its own and gently pets his head, he slightly opens his eyes, his gaze on you for a bit and went back to sleep, purring even louder.

Writing is very therapeutic to me. I can freely write down my ideas and let them unfold.

Thank you for reading until the end.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader

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