#Officially making them a member of their party

[daily-odile]

if it has not been suggested already and you are okay with drawing it-- maybe Odile teaching Bonnie how to make onigiri??

the duo ever!!

[pomarrillo]

:)

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

“Marry.”

“What?”

“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”

“Eddie, we’re not playing FMK; you’re supposed to be telling me his name.”

“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”

“…he’s literally from Hawkins. And he’s holding a hockey stick.”

“Nobody from Hawkins is that hot, man, no way.”

~~~

Gareth posts the clip to his personal TikTok. Before he can get around to reposting it on Corroded Coffin’s band account, it has more than 100k views. Things only spiral from there, because once the band shares it, the video goes more viral and ends up on the screens of the right people.

chiblkhwks: harrington94 is social media challenged, but we’re going to make sure he sees this. Will keep you posted.

The comment is immediately overshadowed by a busy day of PR. A photoshoot to an interview to a radio show to the green room at the Fillmore in Boston, before an intimate pre-album release show for members of their fan club. Eddie has completely forgotten about the video entirely, but Gareth’s phone pings with a text notification.

“A response has been issued!” He declares to the room, still grinning down at the screen of his phone.

The rest of the band shares a collectively confused look, all seeming pleased to find they’re not alone in whatever they’ve missed.

“What?” Jeff asks for the group.

In lieu of an explanation, Gareth just flips the phone in his hand around to show a TikTok, stitched with the clip they’d made earlier that morning.

~~~

“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”

#Stitch

“Is… is that supposed to be a compliment?” Steve asks, making a pinched face as he laces up his skates.

“You watched the whole video. He compared you to Joe Jonas.” The girl behind the camera responds, but he levels her with an unimpressed look. She doesn’t respond, and after a beat, he sighs.

“Yeah, alright, I guess Joe Jonas is hot. I’ll take the compliment.” He huffs, standing to his feet and moving from the bench he’d been suiting up on toward the ice. The girl follows him, gliding toward the net once they're in the rink, never falling out of pace with him.

“Do you know who it is talking in the video?” She presses, and Steve looks unimpressed again.

“You mean the other hot guy?” He asks with a grin, then nods. “That was Eddie. I’m surprised you don’t know him, the Party listens to Corroded Coffin all the time.”

The video loops back to the stitched clip from Gareth’s initial TikTok then. Everyone in the room processes what just unfolded.

“The Party? Did… did Steve Harrington just make a reference to DnD? Or is that some sports thing I dont understand?” Jeff asks.

Freak raises his hand, indicating he’s next to speak. “Not only that, but his nerdy DnD friends listen to us all the time?”

“Did King Steve call Joe Jonas hot?” Eddie asks, visibly still trying to connect the wires in his brain that fried at Steve’s agreement. “Did he call me hot?”

All three turn toward Eddie, whose face is still reflecting the long form math equation his brain is trying to work out, and Jeff sighs.

“Well, boys. I think we’ve officially lost him.” He says, bowing his head. Freak and Gareth join him solemnly, making Eddie huff and cross his arms over his chest.

“You’re all so dramatic.”

“Gee, I wonder who encouraged us to be this way,” Freak exaggerates through a grin, before shoving a guitar into Eddie’s chest, just in time for Paige to open the door and summon them.

“We can have a meltdown over Harrington after the gig,” Gareth promises with a pat to Eddie’s back as everyone moves around him, exiting the green room and heading for the stage.

~~~

Riding his post-show high, Eddie makes a bold move in the CC band TikTok, commenting under the video Steve had stitched.

corrodedcoff!n: we’ll be in chicago 1/26 if harrington94 and ‘the party’ are free 🎫

He only gets about 20 minutes of peace before Gareth is jumping around, proclaiming himself the greatest wingman in history.

“It’s an offer for free concert tickets made over social media, and he hasn’t even answered, Gare Bear.” Eddie tries to get him to relax, but he, too, is eager to see how the other reacts to the offer.

He wakes up the next morning to the answer he’d been waiting on, and his stomach flips as he reads it over.

harrington94: only if you guys come to the home game 1/27 🏒

__________

Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Max shoves her way into the locker room, b-lining straight for him.

“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up, unhooking the padding from his calf and letting it drop to the ground in front of his locker.

“Are you using TikTok to publicly flirt with Eddie Munson?” She asks, voice quieter than he’d typically expect from her, but he just scoffs.

“I’m just being friendly! You’re the one who started this in the first place! What, you didn’t expect me to log on and check if they’d responded?” He asks in response, freeing his foot from the skate, before placing a cover over the blade and letting the boot drop into the lower shelf beside his locker.

“I’m just confused because you’ve been super weird about coming out, and now you’re out here hitting on a rockstar all over social media, that’s all.” Max says, and Steve freezes for a moment.

“Do you…” he trails off, before closing his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. “You really think I just accidentally came out?”

“You called Joe Jonas and Eddie Munson hot, encouraged this rockstar to come to your game when he’s in town and also accepted tickets to see him perform, Steve.” Max was monotone, and held her hands up defensively when he groaned. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying that this could get blown out of proportion now.”

They discuss a little further, deciding neither of them will publicly acknowledge anything that’s been posted to the account for now, until they actually come up with a plan.

Once he’s in his car heading home, Steve calls Robin.

“Dingus,” she greets, as always, and he lets out a grumble. “Uh oh. What happened?”

“I think I accidentally came out on the internet, and it’s Eddie Munson’s fault.” He’s met with several seconds of silence as he starts his car on the path to him and Robin’s shared apartment.

“Eddie, the drug dealer from high school?” Robin eventually asks, confused, and Steve groans again.

“Yeah. He uh, also is in a band?” He supplies, and Robin’s quiet for a moment as she processes. Then, he hears the tapping of a keyboard. “What are you doing?”

“Looking Eddie up, obviously.” Steve can practically see her eye roll, even though they’re not FaceTiming. “You’re nothing if not consistent, I guess. Doe-eyed curly brunet.”

Steve scoffs. “You say as though you’re not the one currently waking up beside Nance every morning.”

He’s met again by a short silence, before Robin lets out a little puff of air, in a small laugh. “Thank you again for being so cool about that, by the way.” She says, before he hears clicking on her end. “Apparently, Eddie is out as bi. Corroded Coffin does a charity show for the Trevor Project every year, and he’s been to a lot of Pride events.”

Steve’s stomach twists with each new bit of information she provides, because a part of him wants to be that out, wants to be like Robin or apparently Eddie, freely sharing that part of themselves with the world and having no one give a shit. But that’s not how it works on so many levels for Steve. Beside the shit he’d have to deal with on the ice from certain other players, he had no idea how it would impact the team overall. There’s no way to gauge how fans would react, when there’s never been an openly gay player in the NHL. And that didn't even begin to touch on how his parents would react.

“Hey,” Robin breaks him out of his spiral and he realizes he’s been chewing a hole into his cheek. “I can hear how loud you’re thinking right now. Do you need me to come home?” She asks, gently, and he sighs.

“Please.” He mumbles after a long pause, and is grateful when he hears the jingle of car keys from the other end of the phone.

~~~

Robin scrolls through article after article once she gets to their place, pulling Steve onto the sofa with her and laying his head in her lap. Her fingers twist through his hair, doing her best to keep him calm as she reads up on the situation playing out to try and help gauge how big of a hole he’s dug himself this time.

“I don’t think there’s really anyone who thinks you were flirting with him. Not seriously, at least.” She tries to assure him, but he’d already seen the twitter posts to contradict that before she came over. He sighs and rolls onto his back, so he’s looking up at her, and shrugs.

“I kind of don’t think there’s any avoiding it, at this point.” He mumbles. “I’m not… I’m not ready to come out, not like this. Not on this scale. I think the only thing I can do is carry on and hope it doesn’t get turned into any bigger of a deal.”

Robin hums down at him, and continues to brush his hair back out of his eyes. “Okay. So you don’t come out yet. But don’t overcompensate for it, okay?” He scrunches his face up at her, and she types something into her phone before turning it back into his face. He immediately pales, met with a photo of him out with Heidi last year. With a black eye on full display, he looks miserable behind a fake smile.

“Low blow,” he grumbles, pushing himself away from Robin to sit up beside her, and she raises her eyebrow at him, still holding the photo pointed in his direction.

“‘Maybe they won’t notice or ask why my literal teammate punched me in the face at practice if I take a fucking supermodel out to dinner.’” Robin’s imitation is a little too good, a sure sign of too much time spent together.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it!” He asks, taking the phone off of her and closing out of the image before locking it. He drops it back into her lap with a sigh. “I just don’t know how many times I can keep getting away with hiding it.”

“Well, it helps that Billy got traded out to LA. He would be insufferable about this, and would absolutely make everything 10 times worse.” Robin muses.

Steve sighs and hesitates for a moment before dropping his head back into her lap, curling into her. “I just want it to be on my terms, when I’m ready.”

“We’ll figure it out, and it’ll all be okay, no matter what. Okay?” She assures quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.

His phone dings with a new notification; Max texted him a screenshot from TikTok.

corrodedcoff!n: you’ve got yourself a deal 🤝🏻

[picaroroboto]

in the ShB role quests, we watch each of Ardbert's party members make some sort of personal sacrifice, forced to discard their own goals, for the sake of the greater good. The moment they make that choice is when a Crystal of Light appears, officially marking them as Warriors of Light in recognition of their heroism and sacrifice. "By your sacrifice, a warrior made.", as the Shadowkeeper says in battle.

The same lore doesn't hold true for the WoL, back when they were in crystal-collecting mode in ARR and HW, the crystals just appear after major victories without the need for some sort of momentous sacrifice, and seem to serve mostly as a marker of how much story progress you've made/need to make to the end of the expac.

But if you think about it not lore-wise, but symbolically -

With each victory over a Primal, you're ensuring that you'll be the person who'll be called upon for help when next a Primal appears. You're cementing your own role as hero each time.

And each time, you are making personal sacrifices.

You might not even realize it until much later, what you have offered up, bit by bit - your freedom, your peace of mind, your own goals and desires, for the sake of the greater good of the star.

"By your sacrifice, a warrior made."

[rad-batson]

Batlantern Headcanons Because I Found My New Brainrot and I Cannot Contain Myself (Platonic or Romantic, You Decide <3)

Hal is the only one who gets away with calling Bruce nicknames. Oliver tried calling Bruce “Spooky” once. He still has nightmares.

Several long-winded missions combined with Hal’s couch-surfing escapades have resulted in Hal having his own official Wayne guest room.

Alfred has smacked Hal with a dish towel several times. Reasons include: trying to wash the dishes, using a mini vac that he brought from home, and spitting gum into the garbage without wrapping it in a tissue first.

Tim gave Hal all of their streaming passwords to piss Bruce off. Hal proceeded to make his own profiles because he fears nothing, so Bruce changed all of his profile names to “Parasite.” Since then, it’s turned into an all-out war of renaming Hal’s profile every time they’re using it.

Highlights so far have included Sugar Baby, Freeloader, Ring Pop, Green Abomination, Magical Girl, Noisemaker, The Better Side Piece, and This is Your Official Eviction Notice Hal. (Bruce still hasn’t changed the passwords.)

Hal: You need to let go of your fear, Bats. Let’s do a simple breathing exercise. Bruce: I am breathing. Hal: No, like calming breaths. Follow my lead, okay? In- no, not that fast. Maybe close your eyes first. In…and out-No. No. Are you having a panic attack? Do I need to call someone?

For one mission, a few other JL members had to go undercover as couples. Bruce and Hal were the spares and paired up out of necessity. To everyone’s surprise, however, they were the most convincing duo because they “bickered like an old married couple.”

Bruce: I’m growing soft, Clark. I’m weak now. Clark: You told Hal ‘Good job.’ What’s wrong with that? Bruce: It’s unprofessional! *in the other room* Hal: I think Batman just confessed his undying love to me.

They have each other’s coffee orders memorized and regularly prepare the other’s coffee for them out of habit when they’re together.

After a while, Hal stops playfully flirting with everyone and reserves it only for Bruce because he gives the best reactions.

At a ‘Thank You, Justice League’ party hosted by Bruce Wayne, Hal slips up and flirts with Bruce in his civvies, only for Brucie Wayne to flirt back without missing a beat.

Hal had to go cool down in the bathroom for a few minutes. He was not ready for that. (Bruce is so fucking smug too. He’s been waiting FOREVER to give Hal a taste of his own medicine.)

Hal, introducing Bruce to the Lantern Corp: This is my pet bat. Careful, he bites.

Bruce, introducing Hal to new JL members: This is my partner. He’s been in training for ten years.

During an important strategy meeting, Hal waves his hand around, and Bruce just sighs. “What now, Lantern?” “Your plan of attack has like four holes in it.” “Where?” Hal gestures to the areas and suggests different strategies, and suddenly Bruce is like Does anyone else think it’s hot in here?

He lies in bed that night contemplating every single life event that’s lead up to Hal Fucking Jordan turning him on with his impeccable battle strategy.

Barry: I think Batman’s mad at me. He didn’t even react when I told him about the great rescue mission from last week. Hal: What do you mean? He was smiling the whole time. Barry: His face didn’t move an inch. Hal: You didn’t notice the lip twitch?

Batman has blackmail material on every single Justice League member, but only Hal has blackmail material on Bruce and the guts to use it. (Hal knows Bruce gets pedicures for fun. And he gets little designs on his toes too.)

Arthur: So when did you and Green Lantern start….you know. Bruce: No, I do not. What did we start? Arthur: You know what?! I think I forgot to walk my fish. Bye!

*Barry sees Hal with a hickey while they’re drinking coffee* Barry, jokingly: Did Bruce give you that? Hal: Yes, actually. How’d you know? Barry, backing away frantically: Oh okay, cool! Okay okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. Okay. Bruce, entering: What’s with him? Hal: I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to like the mug you bought me, though.

The JL has a betting pool called “BatLantern FMK” where they bet on which will happen first: will they fuck, marry, or kill each other?

Only Clark, Diana, and J’onn know that one of them happened already

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

[fatehbaz]

This April [2021], the Iowa Department of Corrections issued a ban on charities, family members, and other outside parties donating books to prisoners. Under the state’s new guidelines, incarcerated people can get books only from a handful of “approved vendors.” Used books are prohibited altogether [...].

In 2018, the Michigan prison system introduced an almost identical set of rules, and Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Washington have all made attempts to block book donations, which were only rolled back after public outcry. Across the United States, the agencies responsible for mass imprisonment are trying to severely limit incarcerated people’s access to the written word [...].

---

The official narrative is that donated books could contain “contraband [...]" -- the language used in Michigan [...]. This is a flimsy justification that begins to fall apart under even the lightest scrutiny. [...] [Contraband] [...] [is] not originating from nonprofit groups like the Appalachian Prison Book Project or Philadelphia’s Books Through Bars. [....] The old cartoon scenario of a hollow book with a saw or a gun inside just isn’t realistic, and its invocation is a sign that something else is going on.

That “something else,” predictably enough, is profit. With free books banned, prisoners are forced to rely on the small list of “approved vendors” chosen for them by the prison administration. These retailers directly benefit when states introduce restrictions. In Iowa, the approved sources include [B&N] and [B-a-M], some of America’s largest retail chains -- and, notably, ones which charge the full MSRP value for each book, quickly draining prisoners’ accounts. An incarcerated person with, say, $20 to spend can now only get one book, as opposed to three or four used ones; in states where prisoners make as little as 25 cents an hour for their labor, many can’t afford even that.

---

With e-books, the situation is even worse, as companies like [GTL] supply supposedly “free” tablets which actually charge their users by the minute to read.

Even public-domain classics, available on Project Gutenberg, are only available at a price under these systems -- and prisons, in turn, receive a 5% commission on every charge. All of this amounts to rampant price-gouging and profiteering on an industrial scale.

---

The rise of these private vendors has also been mirrored by the systematic dismantling of the prison library system. In the last ten years, budgets for literacy and educational resources have seen dramatic cuts, reducing funding to almost nothing [...]. In Illinois, for instance, the Department of Corrections spent just $276 on books across the entire state in 2017, down from an already meager $605 the previous year. (This means, incidentally, that each of the state’s roughly 39,000 prisoners was allotted seven-tenths of a cent.)

Oklahoma, meanwhile, has no dedicated budget for books at all, requiring prison librarians to purchase them out-of-pocket. [...]

---

These practices become all the more abhorrent when you consider the impact books can have behind bars. By now, the social science on their benefits is well-established [...]. [O]ther inmates have reported that reading meant “the difference between just giving up mentally and emotionally and making it through another day, week, or year,” countering the dehumanizing effects of their imprisonment. A book can offer a brief, irreplaceable moment of calm in hellish circumstances. [...]

[There is] a shameful pattern in American society, where many people simply don’t think about the incarcerated on a day-to-day basis, let alone sympathize with their worsening conditions. [...] One of the most common arguments for the American carceral system, and its continued existence, is that of rehabilitation. According to its defenders, a prison is not simply a place of suffering, where unwanted populations are sent to disappear. Nor is it a callous money-making machine, intended to squeeze free labor from them in a regime of functional slavery. Instead, prison rehabilitates -- so the story goes. [...] In these terms, the basic legitimacy of mass imprisonment, and its allegedly positive social role, is taken for granted. [...] But the practice of book banning exposes the lie. Not only do American prisons have little interest in education, healing, and growth, but they will actively prevent them the moment there is a dollar to be made or an ounce of power to be secured.

---

Text by: Alex Skopic. "The American Prison System's War on Reading". Protean (Protean magazine online). 29 November 2021. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[lilacargent]

Soooo first post ever and it is because i have gone down the #humansarespaceorcs rabbit hole, and my train of thought was:

Yes humans are weird and do strange things to survive. But more specifically we do weird things to our surroundings to survive, many different things.

What if, it has been a decade or two since the humans joined what ever coalition or council of aliens that work together and as a species they are mostly well known for their ability to grow crops under the worst circumstances (soil, climate anything) ofcourse the other deathworld apex predator human traits make the rounds but over time they seem to assume we cannot surprise them anymore.

Everyone knows that if a planet is ‘owned’ by a certain species they have to pay tax to the coalition, so planets that aren’t particularly useful are undesirable.

This particular planet p-jx-5£2 has been moved around endlessly, given with trade deals to get rid of it. P-jx-5£2 is 97% water, with a very high salt level so inhabitable for all developed aliens. Even though the atmosphere is a nice oxygen base and the gravitational pull allright most for the coalition members the fast spinning moon and the planets quick pace around its sun make the water move and tides switch every 2.5 hours keeping no land dry outside of low tide.

~~~~~~~~

The tall Avian alian il’trexz was elated this day was going to be great, a trade deal with the hardy humans and getting rid of a useless money drain, they didn’t have a clue what they were signing up for!

Turning towards the much smaller bipedal species standing in front of the window looking down on the blue planet that just came into their possession the strange creature mumbled something to them selves, frowning Il’trezx asks ‘im sorry what did you say, you spoke but the translator didn’t pick it up?’ The human (Steve) turned to him away from the window ‘my apologies, i was talking to myself, i said that we had to send the dutch.’ Il’trezx looked befuddled ‘the dutch? Is that some kind of animal?’

Steve threw his head back and made a series of sounds that ruffled the Avians feathers and had he not known it was a laugh it would have made him run for the hills ‘HA I’m going to tell Andreas you said that, no the Dutch is what call people from a country on earth that specialise in these kinds of climates, they’ve been begging for a challenge since they stopped the flooding on the umavi home world.’ With feathers puffed up Il’trezx wonders ‘and they are going to do what? This is an impossible planet’ immediately clasping his beak he looks a the human to see if he seemed angry at being swindled, but to his surprise Steve just looks at him ‘hm so you believe we can’t use this planet. Allright let’s make a bet.’ Interested Il’trezx leans in closer ‘what kind of bet?’ A predatory grin spreads on the bipedal aliens face ‘if we make less of this planet than the amount of tax we have to pay over it we will cover all trade costs for this quarter, insurance, travel all of it.’ Eagerly Il’trezx starts nodding ‘but’ Steve keeps going ‘if we do make more of this planet you will do the same.’

The bet is put onto paper and the higher ups of both parties also agree. In 5 years the Avians would be back and they would balance the costs to the benefits. When they departed Il’trezx says too Steve ‘you must have a lot of faith in these “dutch” ‘ the man grins teeth bared ‘ofcourse, after all they conquered water before’

The five years pass and stories have been going around of a new energy supplier from the humans, producing enough energy to run 78% of their ships and several facilities. Nobody seems to know where it is coming from but no new pollution is measured in any of these facilities. None of this bothers the Avians, after all humans come up with new things all the time.

The five years are up and Il’trezx is invited to the planet with a group of advisors and other officials, the planet which apparently they have renamed to ‘posy’ which is supposed to be short for some kind of sea god from their olden days.

On arrival the amount of coming and going baffles them massive groups of ships docking or docked and all somehow attached to wires that run into machines.

The planets change alone was awe inspiring, two cities on opposite sides of the planet and what seems like millions of weird blades attached to high poles every where. Strange wheels and long walls between towers rising from the rapidly moving waters.

This… this was their new energy source. They somehow made a battery of this uninhabitable planet and then built a home.

On the meeting place Steve is waiting with a man slightly taller than him. Spreading his arms the smaller human says ‘welcome to Poseidon, this is Andreas our main mechanic here. He has been here with planning since orbit 1.’

After the introductions were done Andreas led the group through what they called the Northern city and showed on his device the steps it took to get a foothold and how they proceeded from there, mentioning that many of these steps his home country had used thousands of year ago to gain land from sea, and energy from the movement of water and air. They specialised in this form of terra forming and it showed.

The Avians were astounded, not having realised that there was more than one kind of way the Humans had battled their environment even beating back the waters of their world.

Without a doubt the humans had won the bet and had another legend added to their name. More and more humans showed that with the right motivation they could settle right about anywhere.

********

So yea… my stupid little idea. Hopefully someone will enjoy it. I just liked the idea of specific cultures and stuff. specialising in certain things.

Edit: im amazed people seem to like it! If people have ideas or other cultures they think would baffle aliens, im certainly willing to try and write something

[mckitterick]

Christofascist Republican calls LGBTQ people "filth" during public forum

The culture of hate among Christofascists recently led to the violent beating and subsequent death of Choctaw two-spirit teenager Nex Benedict in Oklahoma.

When questioned about how 50+ anti-LGBTQ bills might have affected this case, State Senator Tom Woods said,

“We are a Republican state - supermajority - in the House and Senate. I represent a constituency that doesn’t want that filth in Oklahoma.”

Several audience members clapped at his statement, while others appeared shocked.

“We are a religious state and we are going to fight it to keep that filth out of the state of Oklahoma because we are a Christian state - we are a moral state,” Woods said. “We want to ... let people be able to go to the faith they choose. We are a Republican state and I’m going to vote my district, and I’m going to vote my values, and we don’t want that in the state of Oklahoma.”

State Representative David Hardin added, “How you live your life personally, that’s between you and God... but what goes through our public schools - I will fall back on my faith. I want to make sure that at least the children in our public schools have that faith... what I want to make sure of is that our young children have the right to grow up with that faith."

After the forum, Woods reiterated his stance on the matter: "I support my constituency, and like I said, we’re a Christian state, and we are tired of having that shoved down our throat at every turn... I stand behind my statement, and I stand behind the Republican Party values."

When asked what he thought of Woods’ characterization of LGBTQ people as “filth,” State Senator Dewayne Pemberton said, “No comment.”

Again and again, today's christofascist Republicans (any other sort doesn't get elected these days) reveal that they want to indoctrinate public school kids into their own bigoted hatred, forcing children to hate anyone who doesn't subscribe to their narrow interpretation of their religious texts. Christofascists seek to impose their personal, misguided religious biases on the general public, including creating laws codifying hate and authoritarian control over the lives and bodies of everyone, not just others in their own religion.

Make no mistake, Nex Benedict's death was caused by christofascist indoctrination of the three girls who brutally beat Nex in that school bathroom. Nex Benedict's death was caused by the school failing to take their injuries seriously, by hate codified in Oklahoma state laws designed to harass LGBTQ folks and normalize bigotry against them, by Oklahoma Superintendent of Public Instruction Ryan Walters appointing hate-speech villain Chaya Raichik (responsible for "Libs of TikTok") to the Oklahoma Department of Education's Library Media Advisory Committee even though she doesn't live in the state (but he likes that she used Benedict's school and teacher for targeted hate). And on and on - it's a systematic attack on personal freedom and human rights - and the lives of queer folks.

Nex Benedict's death is exactly what christofascists seek through indoctrinating children into their hate that perpetuates bigotry into the future and forcing their religious fanaticism into the public sphere through unconstitutional laws built on hate and control.

Do you want to live in a theocracy dictated by those who narrowly interpret their personal religious texts to promote hate? Because as long as citizens fail to speak out against these harbingers of civilizational collapse, they'll only feel more and more emboldened to turn hate crimes into victories.

We must not let another of our people become victim of systemic bigotry. To protect children and end generational indoctrination, we must fire all public officials who subscribe to christofascist hatred and, when appropriate, prosecute them for the violence they incite.

If we fail to end the careers of hateful christofascists, we fail our children.

[magicalmanhattanproject]

the really interesting thing about the only multilingual alliance in hunt and run is that like. basically no one expects it to work.

the battle lines have basically been drawn between english and spanish streamers and the spanish streamers had to be told specifically by the admins that htey aren't allowed to pull a massive crossteam against the english speakers because most of the english speakers are just really good players so they're scary.

at the start of the event, soarinng was fretting so much about if badboyhalo would betray him for his more skilled english friends (soarinng is Very Very Good at pvp by the way he is Absolutely underselling himself) but he reassured himself that bad is a qsmp guy and qsmp guys are honest

at the end of the event, aquino – another member of the alliance – had decided that bad was completely trustworthy but was worried that bad would think they would betray him and was fretting about how to tell him that he wouldn't since aquino doesn't speak much english

everyone seems to think that the alliance is held on by a thread and due to fall apart at any moment just from the weight of the language barrier. also the spanish speakers on the team have officially declared bad their gringo and are telling their friends not to target him. also bad fully trusts his team and won't shut up about how much fun he's having playing with them

communicating with the language barrier was weird and difficult and there was a lot that bad straight up missed and a lot of times where it took several attempts to communicate things to bad or for bad to communicate things to them. also they launched multiple well coordinated attacks, almost killed spreen, did kill someone else, and stayed alive and improving their gear all the way to the end

working with someone who speaks a different language than you is so intimidating and scary that i fully understand why almost no one tried it. but for the people who had already ripped the bandaid off and actually tried it (bad and soarinng), it still works! it's working great! and i think they honeslty have a real chance to make it to the end since they're a team of four strong players but not so well known that people will target them for swarms or third partying the way people will be trying to murder shadoune or sapnap or spreen's teams

[pigeonpeach]

More Arlecchino Husbandry!

Cw: implied violence or possible violence: FMAB reader! Reader is called mother! Slight yandere themes (not full on though)

summary: continuation of Arlecchino Husbandry with more of a domestic focus

To say the children were estatic to know you would be a permanent member of the house hearth and you are officially their mother is a understatement. They threw a party. Even those you haven’t raised and were already grown when you arrived can recognize your importance both to their siblings and to their father: needless to say you essentially have alot of bodyguards now. Each of those children are determined to keep you safe, both out of devotion and gratitude and because it was Arlecchino’s orders to do so. And so on.

As for Arlecchino she’s quite happy to have you. She keeps you in her office on your downtime, sat nicely on her lap as she goes through paperwork so your presence can keep her calm. Occasionally she’ll press a kiss to your neck. In moments like these you two often don’t speak, rather you may be knitting or reading s book or writting ideas down for fun activities for the kids.

Arlecchino despite her deep affections fory you however is a possessive lover at her core. You’re just so fragile in the grand scheme of things. The children are protectors but if another harbinger decided to pursue you there is little they could do besides awkwardly stand by you. She knows her colleagues too well. She knows they’ll see your big heart as a weakness of hers. She knows you’re her weakness now, and in the eyes of the other harbingers it’s something they could exploit if necessary. So she simply refuses to bring you around them. Besides very few are even good company. The only harbinger you might see is Childe when he is visiting fontaine. He’s friendly to you but respectful knowing the Knave likely wouldnt like it if he was flirty with her beloved. Even so all it took was seeing him in your general direction to make her tense. Shooting him a dirty look as she quickly pulled you to her side and cut the conversation short.

In that case Childe just got glared at and scolded because he is a harbinger, she can’t kill him for something so minor. But if it was someone else who doesn’t have that sort of protection then there’s no guarantee she won’t. I wouldn’t describe this as yandere but simply a part of her job. Again you are her weakness, she cannot risk people possibly taking you from her or using you to get to her. Because that is a legit fear for her to have. So everywhere you go a underling accompanies you. Often the twins. Lynette and Lyney because they’re quite sociable and its easy for you to forget they’re your bodyguards. The children actually are very eager to accompany you because such trips are often like a day out with their mom. Its not uncommon you’ll treat them to lunch and or go shopping with them. This actually works as well because it helps you blend in easily amongst the crowd too. Sometimes you’ll bring one of the actual children with you as a fun activity to reward them for hard work. Often times you take them to get some toys or something special.

These trips are great as well, your motherly demeanor towards Lyney and Lynette often does scare away suitors but if it doesn’t Lyney is quick to intervene. And if the suitor gets aggressive from their rejection then its nothing they can’t handle. If the guards aren’t available then they could always just… kill them you know. Granted you often discourage that with the excuse of wanting to avoid legal troubles. But its a possibility.

Arlecchino herself hardly takes you to balls, she is fiercely loyal to you still, even refusing to dance with others for respect for you. This is both because the kids don’t like when you leave, and again: she doesn’t want you to become a target or too infamous because of her. She wants to keep you safe and protected.

As for gifts you can trust she won’t let you down there. She is a incredibly observant person. She knows the exact flavors, styles, items, and colors you would like. She studies your tastes diligently. It also helps she has dozens and dozens of little informants who also know your tastes. If she notices you seem overworked she books you a luxurious spa session. If she notices you’re a bit insecure them she’ll make it a point to hold you and kiss each curve and crevice of your skin. She knows you don’t have extravagant tastes but you do like things of quality and meaning. And her gifts do have meaning. If you like knitting then she’ll purchase a set of the most soft and vibrant wool. If you like reading then she’ll keep an eye on exclusive or high demand books to get you. if you’re a artist then you can guarantee you’ll never be short on paints and ever work will be framed and displayed proudly.

Also in terms of gifts you are utterly spoiled not just by your husbandwifey but your kids. They bring you trinkets and souvenirs from across the world. Often based on things that remind them of you.

Arlecchino however is a busy woman. As a harbinger she deals with stressful situations and stressful meetings. And as her new bride you do have the expectation of tending to her. My advice is to simply let her lay her head on your shoulder or lap. Embrace her gently and don’t ask for details. More often then not she cannot tell you what exactly has happened but it’s usually frustration from dealing with the other harbingers. Usually the males. You’ve heard her grievances and slander of each male at this point. If you really want to help her relax then just smile softly and nod along. Your compliance and obedience is a well needed relief to her. Then tell her good news of the kids, how their skills have improved, etc.

When you’re upset on the other hand, maybe shaken up from a failed kidnapping/assassination attempt you can bet she’ll come to you quickly. She’s wiling to ditch a meeting if she thinks its that severe. Before she gets to you however, you can bet the kids will also comfort you. Often holding you and fiercely protecting you. When she gets there they leave to give you two privacy and to stand outside to make sure no one comes by. Upon which she will hold you tighter than you’re used to her. Her nails almost digging into your skin as she breathes heavily. She waits till you’re collected to ask for details and assures you the perpetrator will not be spared or shown a slight of mercy. All those involved will be hunted down and eliminated. Until then she will personally keep you by her side. With a voice surprisingly shakey, a sound only you will hear and ONLY you: she proclaims her utter devotion to you. She proclaims that she loves you in a soft voice. This softness and weakness is a rare sight, its only done to comfort you and when she’s quite alarmed herself.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?

This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)

—

Time written - 8:09 p.m

—

“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.

“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.

“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.

You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.

Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.

You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.

“Look at me real quick.”

You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”

“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?

“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.

“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”

You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.

“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.

This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.

Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.

Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.

This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.

“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”

Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.

The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.

It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.

“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.

“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”

“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”

“‘Personally?’”

“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine having to hide your relationship with Zuko to secure his reign but him growing more and more tired not being able to announce your relationship

You and Zuko had been dating for around 9 months. It all started when he came to the water tribe and Sokka introduced the two of you. Sokka claims he knew the two of you would hit it off but you both knew that was a blatant lie. For you, it was how endearingly awkward Zuko was for royalty, not to mention the armour and hair were very pleasing to the eye. For Zuko he liked how refreshing your personality was and how strong a waterbender you were. He saw you smash a drunken guy who was trying to grab you into a snow pile and knew he wanted to get to know you more. The rest was history and the two of you were very happy together. 

However Zuko’s rule hadn’t been quite as easy. Many citizens were angry when he took the throne and wanted Ozai back. The upper classes in particular didn’t like Zuko’s forward-thinking policies and saw the equality he was aiming for as a loss for them rather than a gain for everyone else. Then Azula broke out of her facility and started a rebellion. She timed it perfectly and stepped right into the unrest, promptly making it worse. Zuko was already the youngest Firelord in history and also one of the most controversial. That’s why it was decided your relationship had to be a secret. As you were from the Water Tribe, Fire Nation citizens would undoubtedly see your relationship as a threat to the throne, not even taking into account how your own tribe would react. While some now liked Zuko many still didn’t trust the fire nation, so to “lose” one of their own to the Firelord himself...it could cause trouble to say the least. 

The reactions of both your nations could be the thing that toppled Zuko from the throne and you wanted no part of that. So, it was agreed, until the nation stabilised and Zuko had been on the throne for a while longer you’d keep it between the two of you. Of course your close friends and family knew but other than that it was top secret.

The secret routine you developed worked rather well. The Fire Nation was big on privacy so you could sneak around fairly easily and once you were within the palace you were safe from prying eyes. For yourself, you hung around with Aang anyway so going away to the Fire Nation every month didn’t seem odd. It would have been perfect if you were just two individuals not expected to make formal public appearances but you weren’t. Zuko was the Firelord and you a prominent member of your tribe. You both had expectations on your shoulders and at formal events you were expected to be in attendance. 

Zuko’s POV

The Fire Nation threw a lot of parties but apparently more were needed. It was suggested Zuko throw one to mark the anniversary of his coronation a year ago to show strength and unquestionable leadership in the face of the ever-prevalent rebellions. It made sense so Zuko agreed. The upside was he could invite all his friends and you. The downside was he couldn’t admit you were more than that. He’d have to watch all night as other people got to talk to you and more annoyingly as other men tried their luck with you. The few times you’d been here officially before, you’d had quite a bit of attention and Zuko hadn’t coped very well with that (he may or may not have fired a general he saw checking you out inappropriately). Zuko figured it would be better this time as all your tribe was coming too so you should stand out less. Still Zuko wanted to ensure there would be a barrier between any Fire Nation men and yourself, so he asked Sokka to bring you to the ball. Better a friend he trusted than some nobel likely to propose before dinner was even finished. 

It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t trust you to fend off any and all proposals it was more he was worried you’d see the attraction in a straightforward relationship as opposed to your current chess level strategy based relationship. Zuko felt he was always cancelling plans due to a disaster or rearranging you to fit into his life as opposed to making time for you. He worried you’d see the non-complicated options available to you and leave him. So he tried desperately to use his power and influence to keep this from happening and luckily Sokka was game to help. 

Sokka had agreed to go to the party with you and to aid the two of you in gaining some alone time. Zuko thought it was a rather brilliant plan and your entrance boosted his already high mood. You looked beautiful and always took Zuko’s breath away when he first saw you. You were wearing a formal water tribe dress that matched your bluey green eyes perfectly. Your long dark hair hung loose and it seemed to shine in the firelight. It took Zuko a few seconds to realise Sokka was beside you but when he did, it didn’t feel great. Through planning or accident the two of you were perfectly matching. You looked like a water tribe couple and Zuko’s eyes drifted from your entwined arms to the other people in the room. It seems he’d overlooked a problem. You and Sokka were of similar ages, from the same tribe, had a close relationship and looked very good beside one another. The oversight began to dawn on Zuko and panic began to blossom in his head. Would this be interpreted as more than a friendship? Zuko searched the room and sure enough others were watching the two of you. Zuko noticed members of the Water Tribe in particular staring. Many of them smiling widely and whispering to one another, no doubt expecting the two of you were finally dating. Zuko even saw several people giving Hakoda knowing smiles and whispering congratulations to him. Hakoda tried to get to stop it from being so obvious, brushing away their comments but their meaning was painfully clear, everyone thought the two of you were a couple and they were thrilled. Zuko felt his temper nipping at him and had to look away from the scene.

It wasn’t that he was possessive and wanted everyone to know you were ”his”, it was more the opposite. He wanted everyone to know you, y/n of the water tribe liked him. Zuko had never been good at the whole flirting thing and he was still amazed he’d managed to ask you out and somehow end up dating you. He was very proud of that victory and wanted everyone to know you thought he was good enough. Of all the men you could’ve dated you chose him. Zuko. But he wasn’t just Zuko, he was also the Firelord which is why the pesky secrecy was needed. His country had to come first. 

Sighing Zuko disappeared behind a curtain where he knew he could hide for a while before Suki came to find him. As Firelord he could have small absences but nothing big, still he took every five-minute break when he could and he had a feeling he’d need them after tonight. He was brooding for only a few minutes when he was discovered but not by who he expected. 

"Are you okay?" a voice asked and Zuko needed no time distinguishing whose it was, he’d know your voice anywhere. You must have noticed him storm away and followed, discreetly of course. You’d gotten good at sneaking around and following him into corners but now Zuko was annoyed that you had to do that. He wanted everyone to see you two together, to recognise you were one another's. "Zuko?" you asked concerned when he didn’t answer and he sighed "i’m fine". He turned to see your worried expression and felt guilty. "Are you sure?" you asked "because if not you can tell me". "I just hate this" he admitted "it’s not fair to have to act like this”. You nodded "i know it must be hard being nice to the people you know helped Azula. But don’t worry you just need a bit more influence and then you won’t have to rely on them as much...". Zuko paused at your misunderstanding. You thought Zuko meant the brewing rebellion. In this situation the rebellion was almost comical to him, he was far more concerned with losing you than his crown. "I wasn’t talking about that i meant us" he said and saw your worry grow "us?". "I know it was my idea but i don’t like Sokka attending this with you, seeing you enter with him, stay by his side while your whole tribe grins like it’s christmas....I so want to show them it’s not true, to just announce how you’re not dating Sokka but me! I’m the lucky one not him! I’m the one who you'll be leaving with not him! But i can’t" he sighed. "I’ll be leaving with you will i?" you asked trying to ease the mood but even your smile couldn’t take Zuko’s mind off his frustrations. You realised and frowned "Zuko...it’s okay". "No it’s not" he told you "it’s not fair on you". "It is" you said softly "i get you’re the Firelord Zuko i went into this with that abundantly clear" you smiled "so i get that while your rule is still precarious we have to be careful, i’d never want you to lose all this just because we were careless, i can wait as long as you need me to" you finished and patted his arm softly before heading back to Sokka so your absence wouldn’t be noted. Zuko let out the sigh he’d been holding. He knew you were perfect, your response was exactly what he should’ve wanted, it should have relaxed him hearing you say that but it didn’t. Zuko didn’t want you to have to make do. He didn’t want to sneak moments with you and hide away. He wanted everyone to know the greatest woman in the Water Tribe was dating him. He was beyond caring about the Fire Nation at this point so Zuko decided to do something about it. Tomorrow night would not be like this. 

The next night

Zuko had officially been Firelord a year today but that wasn’t his proudest achievement. That was reserved for having you on his arm. 

You entered the ballroom together and the event was in full swing. Zuko saw lots of people do double-takes to see you beside one another and he struggled to stop a smug smile from appearing on his face. He knew he should always act dignified but the reality was he was grinning like an idiot. Your tribesmen stared and Zuko couldn’t tell if it was because you were with him or because of what you were both wearing. For one night only you’d traded your nation’s colours which was fairly unheard of but the results were excellent in Zuko’s opinion. He wasn’t too sure about the blue on him but the traditional Fire Nation red made your dark skin so warm and inviting, the red looked so at home on you and Zuko had to keep reminding himself not to stare. 

You reached the bottom of the staircase and the whole room seemed to be holding its breath. Several of your friends smiled and Zuko nodded to them all, other people jumped away from his gaze when he caught them staring. Zuko saw you looking down unsure how to act and glanced at you. "Would you like to dance?" he asked. You looked at him surprised "but you hate dancing". "I’m the Firelord i think they expect me to, plus it’s something we can get away with as a formality". You smiled and nodded “lead the way”. Zuko took your hand smiling like the happiest man in the world. 

Your POV

You could see people watching you, hear them whispering and tried to ignore them and just focus on Zuko. It was hard at first but then you got caught in the enjoyment of it with Zuko and when the set ended you were disappointed. Zuko led you away from the floor and the mutters followed. People looked away as you approached but you could feel their eyes on you the second you passed. Zuko led you towards Aang and the others and Sokka appeared beside you "you're aware you guys are the centre of attention, right?". Zuko swallowed but nodded “yes”. You could hear the anxiety in his voice and gave him a worried look. He'd seemed so confident but of course he had to act like that even when he wasn't. "Was it really bad?" you asked and Sokka frowned. "No of course it wasn’t" Katara smiled "you both look lovely and you were just dancing!". "Yeah screw everyone else" Toph cried and you laughed. "I have to leave my advisor is calling me over" Zuko sighed "i’ll be back" he told you and moved away.

You watched Zuko go feeling rather anxious and tried to breathe. You hadn’t done anything wrong and the world wasn’t going to end. Everything would be okay! Then you noticed a tribe elder making a beeline for you and Sokka. You tried to make a break for it but Sokka caught your arm “no come on, if you get through this then that will be the worst of it”. You tried to fight him off but Sokka had an iron grip and swung you round to come face to face with the elder. 

In your tribe a lot of emphasis was put on elders meaning whoever was older than you, regardless of if they were actually a good person, “deserved” your respect and could talk to you however they wanted without any repercussions.  So you smiled thinly and nodded your head to them. “Sarnaq” Sokka smiled “how are you enjoying the party?”. The man smiled at Sokka “very well thank you or atleast I was” and he turned to you. "I must say, your actions tonight were not good young lady" Sarnaq said in place of a greeting and despite the fact you and Zuko were both legally adults. That was another annoying elder tradition, everyone younger than them or just not married was still a child in their eyes. "You have gotten cocky haven’t you, woman always do" Sarnaq muttered to himself. "Cocky?" you asked a slight edge to your voice. The man narrowed his eyes "yes, just because you are of value in our tribe does not mean we will excuse scandalous behaviour, even if he is with the Firelord. Your loyalty is to your own people first, you would do well to remember that". "I was just dancing with Firelord Zuko" you retorted and Sarnaq glared. "Don’t talk back, I am trying to teach you the wisdom you clearly lack. You have nobody to blame but yourself for your bad behaviour, what did you expect wearing a fire nation dress? You were purposefully encouraging the Firelord and so his behaviour can be explained, yours on the otherhand cannot be". Sokka could see you slipping and frowned. "So by me wearing red i was inviting Fire Nation men to me?" you asked angrily "that’s what me choosing a colour means?". "It’s their colour" the man said partronisingly "of course covering yourself in it gives them ideas". You scoffed "well maybe you should all stop imagining everything i do is to send a message to men, maybe i just wanted to wear red". The man rolled his eyes "don’t be naive you know men pick up these signals in a woman, there’s no use denying you wore that dress to entice the firelord". You temper burst.  "i did not!” you cried “I do not have to entice the Firelord because he already likes me!" you snapped. Sokka grabbed your arm eyes wide but you didn’t care. The man only shook his head "it’s worse than i thought. I’m sure he tells you that but he doesn’t care about you, why would he? Now the only way to correct this is to go change, clean up the mess you’ve made and stay in your place from now on. I won’t hear any arguments" and with that Sarnaq walked away. You went to go follow him when Sokka grabbed you "no y/n don’t, he's not worth it!". Sokka dragged you outside where you could yell and you did. A lot of it.

How dare this man talk to you like that. He had no idea about your relationship with Zuko and who was he to give you orders. “What a sexist old fashioned sack of wrinkles” you cried “I hate how wrong our tribe is. The Fire Nation basically had a dictator for a hundred years and still they’re more progressive than us! No wonder I like Zuko, he treats me like a person not a little woman to be bossed around”. Sokka nodded unsure what to say and just a tad scared you’d direct your anger at him. “I’d love to leave and just see all their faces, they think they can tell me what to do and boss me around? They’ve got another thing coming. I don’t have to take it and I won’t. I’m going to show them all!”. Sokka frowned “wait y/n what are you planning?”. You smiled “wait and see” and marched back into the room. 

You scanned the party and spotted Sarnaq actually talking with Zuko. You glared to see him clearly sucking up to the man he’d just bad mouthed. Your anger rose again and you thought about what Zuko had said earlier and strode towards him. Sarnaq spotted your approach and frowned. "Y/n" he said stiffly "i assume you’re here to apologise, we can do that later". "Actually i’m not here for you" you said pointedly "my business is with the Firelord". The man seemed panicked "Firelord please excuse her rudeness she is just infatuated with you". You rolled your eyes "you have no idea" and yanked Zuko to you, kissing him in front of the whole ballroom. 

You heard everyone go quiet as they noticed and some people even gasped. Zuko was of course shocked but kissed you back instinctively and seemed to understand you wanted a show so he happily obliged. When you finally separated you smirked to see Sarnaq with his jaw wide open. "Firelord...see what i mean? She is desperate, i am so sorry you are not to blame". "No i am" Zuko said loudly "because i was the one who asked Y/n out 9 months ago and we’ve been dating ever since" he said loudly "Y/n and I are together so she will be spending a lot more time in the Fire nation with me". Your heart skipped at that and you grinned as Zuko took your hand. "But she’s a member of the Water Tribe...." Sarnaq babbled and Zuko nodded "yes she’s a member not a slave, so you cannot control her or tell her what to do, understand?". Zuko took a step closer to the man who paled rapidly. "Yes Firelord i am sorry". "Apologise to her" Zuko barked and Sarnaq turned to you "i am sorry Y/n". You nodded and stared at Zuko in awe. "Good" Zuko said coldly "now leave us". The man scurried away and you tried not to grin as Zuko kept his angry face on for the room. "I hope it was okay i did that" he said and you smiled "are you kidding? That was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen" you laughed your smile turning into a smirk. "I will definitely need you to act it out again for me". Zuko blushed and a small smile made it onto his angry face "well he disrespected you it had to be done...as for a repeat i am more than happy to cooperate". You grinned and tried to calm yourself. "So everyone knows" you said sobering up "i’m sorry for just kissing you but i was so sick of it". "No i’m glad you did" Zuko smiled raised your hands to his chest "this feels amazing, being here with you". "But aren’t you worried about what your people will say?" you asked not quite ready to celebrate but Zuko just smirked. "They’re angry at me no matter what i do, atleast this way i’ll be happy because you’re with me and i don’t have to hide it, that will make it all worth it". You blushed and let Zuko pull you into his arms. After a while he seperated “now...are you ready to make you debut? I want to introduce you to everyone. I mean what I said, you’ll be here as often as you like so they should get used to seeing your face”. You blushed but nodded taking his hand “let’s do this”. 

[zvaigzdelasas]

"Why doesn't Hamas just have elections?'

The result was a victory for Hamas, contesting under the list name of Change and Reform, which received 44.45% of the vote and won 74 of the 132 seats, whilst the ruling Fatah received 41.43% of the vote and won 45 seats.[1][...]

In the lead-up to the elections, on 26 September 2005 Israel launched a campaign of arrests against PLC members. 450 members of Hamas were detained, mostly those involved in the 2006 PLC elections. The majority of them were kept in administrative detention for different periods.[19] In the election period, 15 PLC members were captured and held as political prisoners.[20]

During the elections, the Israeli authorities banned the candidates from holding election campaigns inside Jerusalem. Rallies and public meetings were prohibited. The Jerusalem identity cards of some PLC members were also revoked.[21] The Carter Center, which monitored the elections, criticised the detentions of persons who "are guilty of nothing more than winning a parliamentary seat in an open and honest election".[22][...]

On 21 December 2005, Israeli officials stated their intention to prevent voting in East Jerusalem, which, unlike most of the Palestinian-inhabited areas that are planned to participate in the election, is under Israeli civil and military control. (Israel annexed East Jerusalem in the wake of the Six-Day War; this move has not been recognized by most other governments, or by the PNA, which claims Jerusalem as a Palestinian capital.) Israel's stated motivation was not the argument about sovereignty over the area (Palestinian voters in East Jerusalem had been allowed to vote in previous PNA elections despite the dispute) but concern over Hamas' participation in—and potential victory in—the election.[...]

The Israeli police arrested campaigners of Hamas and closed at least three Hamas election offices in East Jerusalem during the campaign.[26][27][...]

On 29 March 2006 a new government was formed by Hamas leader Ismail Haniya.

After the kidnap of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit on 25 June 2006, Israel launched a series of raids into Gaza and West Bank. Israel destroyed civilian infrastructure and arrested dozens of Hamas supporters, including elected cabinet ministers and members of the PLC. On 28 June overnight, the army invaded Gaza and performed airstrikes, bombing infrastructure such as bridges and an electricity station. On 29 June, the IDF detained from the West Bank 8 ministers and 26 PLC members in addition to many other political leaders.[19][41] By August 2006, Israel had arrested 49 senior Hamas officials, all from the West Bank, including 33 parliamentarians, "because technically they were members of a terrorist organisation although they may not be involved in terrorist acts themselves". Most of the Hamas detainees were moderate members from the West Bank who had been calling on the Gaza leadership to recognise Israel and make the party more acceptable to the international community. Hamas has accused Israel of trying to destroy the Hamas-led Palestinian Authority.[42][...]

On 28 January 2006, Israel said it would prevent Hamas leaders, including newly elected PLC deputies, from travelling between the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. On 29 January, Ehud Olmert said that after Hamas sets up a Government, Israel would stop transferring to the PA custom duties and taxes it had collected on their behalf until it was satisfied that they would not end up in the hands of "terrorists". US Secretary of State Rice declared that "The United States wants other nations to cut off aid to a Hamas-led Palestinian Government, also ruling out any US financial assistance to a Hamas Government." [45] On 17 February, one day before the new parliament was sworn in, the then Fatah-led government returned $50 million US aid that Washington did not want to come in the hands of the new government. The money had been intended for infrastructure projects in Gaza.[46][...]

Just before the January 2006 elections, and after witnessing Hamas' gains in municipal polls, the House of Representatives passed H.Res. 575 (December 16, 2005), asserting that terrorist groups, like Hamas, should not be permitted to participate in Palestinian elections until such organizations "recognize Israel's right to exist as a Jewish state, cease incitement, condemn terrorism, and permanently disarm and dismantle their terrorist infrastructure."[54] The Palestinian Authority chose to ignore this external decision[...]

The New York Times reported in February 2006 that "The United States and Israel are discussing ways to destabilize the Palestinian government so that newly elected Hamas officials will fail and elections will be called again. The intention is to starve the Palestinian Authority of money and international connections to the point where, some months from now, its president, Mahmoud Abbas, is compelled to call a new election."[56] Just how much further matters would be taken was revealed in April 2008. Tom Segev (in Ha'aretz) reported:

a "confidential document, a 'talking points' memo,[57] was left by the U.S. consul general in Jerusalem, Jake Walles, on the desk of Mahmoud Abbas . … According to the paper left behind … he wanted to pressure Abu Mazen to take action that would annul the outcome of the elections that had catapulted Hamas to power. … When nothing happened, Walles … warned the Palestinian president that the time had come to act. Instead, Abu Mazen launched negotiations with Hamas on the establishment of a unity government. … At this point the Americans moved to "Plan B." That was a plan to eliminate Hamas by force. In fact, it was to be a deliberately fomented civil war Fatah was supposed to win, with U.S. help."[58][...]

Vanity Fair has obtained confidential documents, since corroborated by sources in the U.S. and Palestine, which lay bare a covert initiative, approved by Bush and implemented by Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and Deputy National Security Adviser Elliott Abrams, to provoke a Palestinian civil war. The plan was for forces led by Dahlan, and armed with new weapons supplied at America's behest, to give Fatah the muscle it needed to remove the democratically elected Hamas-led government from power. (The State Department declined to comment.) Some sources call the scheme "Iran-contra 2.0," recalling that Abrams was convicted (and later pardoned) for withholding information from Congress during the original Iran-contra scandal under President Reagan. There are echoes of other past misadventures as well: the C.I.A.'s 1953 ouster of an elected prime minister in Iran, which set the stage for the 1979 Islamic revolution there; the aborted 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion, which gave Fidel Castro an excuse to solidify his hold on Cuba; and the contemporary tragedy in Iraq.[59]

The Jerusalem Post confirmed that the documents cited by Vanity Fair "have been corroborated by sources at the US State Department and Palestinian officials", and added:

The report said that instead of driving its enemies out of power, the US-backed Fatah fighters inadvertently provoked Hamas to seize total control of the Gaza Strip in June 2007. David Wurmser, who resigned as Vice President Dick Cheney's chief Middle East adviser a month after the Hamas takeover, said he believed that Hamas had no intention of taking over the Gaza Strip until Fatah forced its hand. "It looks to me that what happened wasn't so much a coup by Hamas but an attempted coup by Fatah that was preempted before it could happen," he was quoted as saying. Wurmser said that the Bush administration engaged in a "dirty war in an effort to provide a corrupt dictatorship [led by Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas] with victory." Wurmser said he was especially galled by the Bush administration's hypocrisy. "There is a stunning disconnect between the president's call for Middle East democracy and this policy," he said. "It directly contradicts it.".[60][...]

The original article was cited by the Irish Times, the Israeli historian and political analyst, Tom Segev, in an article entitled "Bay of Pigs in Gaza", and also by Suzanne Goldenburg of The Guardian, who added "A state department memo put the cost for salaries, training and weapons at $1.27bn (£640m) over five years."[50]

The 2008 exposé by Vanity Fair (of plans to reverse the democratic 2006 PA parliamentary elections) confirmed a CF Report of January 2007, over a year earlier, by Alistair Crooke:

Deputy National Security Advisor, Elliott Abrams ... has had it about for some months now that the U.S. is not only not interested in dealing with Hamas, it is working to ensure its failure. In the immediate aftermath of the Hamas elections, last January, Abrams greeted a group of Palestinian businessmen in his White House office with talk of a "hard coup" against the newly-elected Hamas government — the violent overthrow of their leadership with arms supplied by the United States. While the businessmen were shocked, Abrams was adamant — the U.S. had to support Fatah with guns, ammunition and training, so that they could fight Hamas for control of the Palestinian government.

Over the last twelve months, the United States has supplied guns, ammunition and training to Palestinian Fatah activists to take on Hamas in the streets of Gaza and the West Bank. A large number of Fatah activists have been trained and "graduated" from two camps — one in Ramallah and one in Jericho. The supplies of rifles and ammunition, which started as a mere trickle, has now become a torrent (Haaretz reports the U.S. has designated an astounding $86.4 million for Abu Mazen's security detail), and while the program has gone largely without notice in the American press, it is openly talked about and commented on in the Arab media. Of course, in public, Secretary Rice appears contrite and concerned with "the growing lawlessness" among Palestinians, while failing to mention that such lawlessness is exactly what the Abrams plan was designed to create."[61]

Voice of America reported that the Bush administration had denied the Vanity Fair report.[62]

In 2016 a 2006 audio tape emerged that contains an interview by Eli Chomsky of the Jewish Press with Hillary Clinton. Clinton opined that pushing for elections "in the Palestinian territories ... was a big mistake", adding "(a)nd if we were going to push for an election, then we should have made sure that we did something to determine who was going to win."[63][...]

In June 2007 the Washington Post reported: "Hamas … leaders have accused Fatah's security services of working on behalf of Israeli and American interests because of a $40 million U.S. aid package to strengthen Abbas's forces. … The Israeli government has openly supported Fatah forces against Hamas, whose tightening control of Gaza alarmed Israeli defense officials.[67]

In a wikileaks cable dated 13 June 2007, Shin Bet security chief Yuval Diskin told U.S. Ambassador to Israel Richard Jones that: "Fatah had thus turned to Israel for help in attack Hamas", which he termed a new and unprecedented development in Jerusalem's relations with the Palestinian Authority.

In the cable sent to Washington, Jones said that Yadlin had been quite satisfied with Hamas' seizure of the Gaza Strip. If Hamas managed to take complete control then the Israel Defense Forces would be able to relate to Gaza as a hostile territory and stop looking at the militant group as an undiplomatic player, Yadlin apparently told Jones."[68]

[angelrari]

gossip girl · pt. x

based on the tv series gossip girl

max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader

fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)

a/n: hi! thank you for the feedback and all of the support. here's a new part for you, i hope you enojoy it! 🤍

prev | next

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gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 112.643 others

yourusername off to vegas 🛫🎲

view all 1.152 comments

username the queen of hearts

pierregasly am i missing something?👀

yourusername yeah padel skills

pierregasly 🥱🥱🥱

username @/pierregasly are you trying to do @/gossipgirl's job?

username i'm convinced he is @/gossipgirl

username max and her travelling together again IT IS OFFICIAL

username the day we get a picture of them together the world will stop

· · · · ·

for the past weeks max had been keeping in contact with you. the different timezones were not easy to deal with, but max would wait until late to call you, killing time until you woke up on the other side of the world and, when he finally heard your voice, he would listen as you complained about work, how jolie (once again) was stealing your clothes or the hard time you were having trying to find an apartment in monaco to rent. he would also tell you everything about his day, the city he was staying in and the gossip going around the paddock. and for the first time you missed him.

after the brasil gp, max had traveled all the way back to monaco to be with you for a couple of days and then travel to las vegas together. three months ago you would have never imagined this. you spent all the free time you had with max, but somehow you still craved more. and, you knew, he did too.

now you were on your way to vegas, resting your head on max's shoulder as he looked out the jet window and his hand carefully caressed your hair. his heartbeat sounds, that you were now getting used to hearing, were soothing you.

"are you coming to the opening ceremony?".

"of course". you said. "and afterwards i have to attend to the welcome party, but you're skipping it, right?".

"yeah, but i'll drive you there". he said. you looked at him and his blue eyes quickly starred into yours.

"you know you don't have to, right?".

"i know, but i want to".

· · · · ·

yourusername posted a story

· · · · ·

the sound of steve aoki's set was louder as you came closer to the track, were the show was being held. max, who was ready (at least physically) for his apperance at las vegas grand prix opening ceremony, was holding your hand tightly as he followed some of his team members.

a remix of all of me by john legend started playing and you could not stop yourself from singing the lyrics. max could not stop smiling as he watched you enjoy the show. he loved the way how his red bull jacket looked you, how your eyes shined so brightly that put the neon lights of las vegas to shame and how the world stopped every time you smiled. and then he realized how he would not mind to go through all this shitshow once again if you were by his side.

· · · · ·

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 127.132 others

yourusername devils roll the dice

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username the way max and charles are always in her likes

username god i've seen what you've done for others

username mother quoting mother

gossipgirl red looks good on you

joliedebelle oh please shut up for once

· · · · ·

1:17 am. the cold weather sneaked inside your clothes making your body react at the freezing sensation. the welcome party had gone well, you had met the people your father asked you to, took a few pictures to post on social media and finished way earlier than you thought. but now you were standing outside the venue, cursing under your breath because, after fifteen minutes of waiting, you just could not find a damn uber.

"need a ride?". you heard from behind you and your heart skipped a beat. quickly you turned around and let out a huff when you saw charles, who had a grin on his face after seeing your reaction.

"fuck". you swore. "you scared me you idiot, i thought you were a creep".

"that's not what you should say to the prince charming who's gonna rescue you". he said and you rolled your eyes at his words. "but i guess i'll make an exception and ignore all the curse words you have just said".

"it's the least you could do after i had to deal with you for four years". you teased him.

"don't push it or i'll leave you here".

"oh, you know you can't". you said as he unlocked the doors of the black ferrari in front of you.

"get in, baby".

charles was never a reckless driver, at least not when you were inside the car next to him. on every stop light, he would check on you, resting his left hand on the gear shift instead of your leg like he used to do years ago.

"god, i am so tired i'm literally gonna pass out before we get to the hotel".

"is the jet lag kicking you? you arrived yesterday right?".

"yeah, plus i couldn't sleep well last night". you explained as you rubbed your eyes. "you didn't go back to monaco after brasil, did you?".

"no, i've been staying in la. i was invited to a lakers match, well, actually, léa was invited too, but anyway-, i decided to stay there and met a few friends that i can't see very often".

"that sounds nice". you said as you looked at him. "have you heard from her?".

"léa? no. i think she has given up on me". he replied as he starred at the road ahead.

"why would you say that?".

"it's difficult to explain, but i don't think i am in love with her". he stated. "i have dated a few girls after we broke up, you already know that, but the thing is i have been struggling to find someone who makes me feel something. i thought that with léa everything would be different, but it wasn't. at the begging it felt like a love story, we knew each other since ages ago, we met after years, had a connection. and, fuck, i know i shouldn't say this, but when you came back was when i realized i just didn't care about léa, at least not the way i do about you".

"charles-".

"and i know it's wrong, i'm very aware, but it's the truth and i'm done pretending". he stopped the car at the red light and looked at you. "it's hard to know that the person i've searched for all these years is you, it's hard to ignore the way i feel whenever you are around and it's hard to watch you fall in love with somebody else".

"i-".

"i know you said you two weren't a thing, but i saw you in the paddock tonight, you were singing while you held his hand and max could not look away from you. and i hated every second of it because now i know it is way too late".

"i am sorry". you said. "i didn't know you felt this way".

"i am sorry too". and that was the moment you knew that, no matter how much time had passed, your heart still had a spot for your first love.

· · · · ·

· · · · ·

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[yanfeisty]

— Voicelines about Creator!Reader (Inazuma) ♡ ！

⊹ [ characters ] — Ayaka, Ayato, Ei, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kazuha, Kokomi, Sara, Sayu, Shinobu, Thoma, Yae Miko & Yoimiya. ◞

⊹ [ synopsis ] — let's see what they think about you. ◞

⊹ [ cw ] — religious themes. ◞

⠀‣ Ayaka

About The Creator: Divine Presence

"It's always a pleasure to have Our God blessing the festivities we prepared with their presence, the sun and moon appear to shine brighter when they're here, and the people happier. It surely makes me happy to see them enjoying the festival..."

About The Creator: Consort

"As an Acolyte and a member of the Kamisato clan, it is a great honor to be Their Grace's consort... But if I may tell my more personal feelings, I feel at ease with Y/n, like I can be myself, I don't feel like people want to know more about us beyond our positions, but when we're together we don't have any titles separating us. Have you seen the beautiful scenery of the sun at dawn dazzling on Inazuma? Their smile are alike."

⠀

⠀‣ Ayato

About The Creator: Divine Ceremonies

"It is the duty of the Yashiro Commission to held festivities in Their Grace's name, such as welcoming parties, the day of their descent, and birthday of course, while trying to fit their taste. With all due respect, I have to say their opinions are quite interesting... You see, playing tcg wouldn't be the first idea I'd have for an official ceremony."

About The Creator: Consort

"Hm... So you wish to know more about our union? I suppose I can share with you a few things. We sadly don't have much time for each other as we're quite busy with our own matters, therefore I try to express my feelings in letters and presents. They did tell me it was useless to spoil them with such 'overexpensive' gifts, but... the sight of their lovely face trying to suppress a smile won't ever stop to amuse me... Besides, no price comes close to my love for Y/n."

⠀

⠀‣ Raiden Shogun

About The Creator: Remaining Soul

"Their body may have perished, but their creations never have once forgot about them. Now, they have been reincarnated into this fragile body, but they are slowly regaining their power as it has remained into the memory of the land. This is eternity at its purest form."

⠀‣ Ei

About The Creator: Consort

"Ah, my exceptional lover. In many ways they have changed my daily routine, I tried things I would never have done before, that I considered futile for my quest of pursuing eternity. But they made me realized even the smallest actions, no matter if they last for long or not, can bring an eternal feeling to one, for exemple the pleasure of eating a dessert is temporary, but the memory of its delicious taste will always be unchanging and bring happiness to the one remembering it. I accepted their proposal as a promise that by my side they shall remain joyful forevermore."

⠀

⠀‣ Gorou

About The Creator: Prayers

"I have heard few of my soldiers praying that none of their comrades or themselves would die before any serious battles or missions, I'm not really a religious person but I can't blame them, if this help them to have courage then why not?"

About The Creator: Consort

"They have brought a lot of help to Watatsumi Island, and that was even before we get together! What I love about them is that they're always so caring with whoever, they're so kind-hearted... They have lots of others qualities too, they're beautiful, funny, cunning, and the list goes on. They also must have some sort of magic in their hands, always finding my best spot to rub... H-hm, that st-stay between us, of cou-rse, I don't want them to tease me about it..."

⠀

⠀‣ Heizou

About The Creator: An interesting Case

"Quite the intriguing person, aren't they? I'm not really into godly affairs but I have to admit that them waking up with not only no memories of their past life but new ones from another world is quite...hm, intriguing."

About The Creator: Consort

"They truly have no shame for playing and stealing the heart of a member of the Tenryou Commission, they used my own tricks to make me fall over heels for them and now I don't think I can recover. Sadly their title make it impossible for me to arrest them and make them face justice, but that doesn't mean I can't teach them a lesson with my own ways..."

⠀

⠀‣ Itto

About The Creator: Ultimate Battle

"I didn't think much of them before they challenged me to a duel of tcg! Of course, I accepted it, I'm not the one to run away from a challenge and people from everywhere knows them, winning against them means that everyone will know the name of Arataki 'The Ultimate TCG Champion' Itto, ha! The one who defeated The Creator with no fear, people would never dare to fight me again, as the simple mention of my name strikes fear into my opponents, hehe... Huh? Did I actually beat them? Well... not yet, but it's only a matter of time before glory fall upon me!"

About The Creator: Consort

"The wha-? Oh yeah, sorry, I'm not used to call them that, I mostly use 'My ultimate bro', 'My one and oni', 'My onikaboo-boo', 'Cutie-sweetie-you-wish-you-had-them-ie-but-you-can't-because-this-lovely-is-the-lover-of-this-oni'. But yeah, they're fantastic, they help me to get out of jail, though sometimes they say I deserve it and leave me there... But besides that, they're an excellent cuddle buddy, always knowing how to brush my hair and horns not too delicately but not too rou-... Hey! What are you laughing at? Oh... So you think that's funny that the fierce leader of the Arataki gang have a cuddle buddy? Pff... I don't care what you think and I'm sure you're just jealous."

⠀

⠀‣ Kazuha

About The Creator: Independence

"Everywhere I go their name is on everyone's lips, I have heard they were kind and thoughtful, but what I recall best is their free spirit and wish to explore all of Teyvat, including the people but the responsibilities they have to shoulder prevent them from realizing their ambitions... Like a bird in a cage."

About The Creator: Consort

"To be truthful with you, I was hesitant of this offer, I love them with all my heart more than anything else, but what does being a consort means? I wanted to continue my life with the loving carefree spirit I fell in love with not The Creator, I was concerned that we would be tied by others' expectations and wouldn't be able to live our life freely. But... they know me best and reassured me that none of this would happen. I'll be forever grateful that our paths met, they know how to comfort me."

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⠀‣ Kokomi

About The Creator

"It is difficult to know whom can you put your trust in, and if so how much amount. The Creator have proven we can trust them to help Watatsumi Island, and as its Divine Priestess I'm deeply thankful to what they have done for us. But I started to fully trust them when I discussed with them, their help didn't have any other intention than just being an act of kindness... I'm slightly concerned that others will abuse of their sympathy, but I'll be there in case that happens."

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⠀‣ Sara

About The Creator

"The Raiden Shogun and myself are both Acolytes of The Creator, and since The Shogun worships them I shall give them my undying loyalty and forever assist them. Even if... their casual personality and peculiar behavior during official ceremonies is quite questionable for a God..."

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⠀‣ Sayu

About The Creator

"I heard about them but only saw them once, I saw their hand going towards my head so I quickly avoided it, turned out they wanted to ruffle my hair, unlike head pats I don't think it will stop me from growing so I let them, but that made me feel even more sleepy."

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⠀‣ Shinobu

About The Creator

"I have to thank them for saving us from difficult situations which even I couldn't do anything. The gang really love them especially the Boss, they're easy going and it's easy to forget they're the most superior being in all of Teyvat, they could have been one of us but of course their position doesn't allow them, but like the Boss said they're an official-but-not-really-member-of-The-Arataki-gang."

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⠀‣ Thoma

About The Creator: Fun Activities

"They're very different from The Shogun, they don't really seek for an ideal like the Archons, they just simply want to enjoy life in Teyvat, haha... They've surprised me with asking if they could play the hotpot game, and I can tell you it was very fun, though I really need to pay attention to what ingredients I put... The others would probably kill me if Y/n even just has a small brain freeze, hehe..."

About The Creator: Consort

"Yes, I've heard people saying 'how can they marry a simple housekeeper?' and I have to say I wonder the same, ahaha... They're so lovely and a kind-hearted soul, I still can't believe they proposed to me, it feels like a dream when I'm with them. And we're partners in crimes when it comes to feeding and petting every stray animals in Inazuma, if you saw how easily they attract animals, it took me days to explain to every pet owners why did their pet suddenly disappeared..."

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⠀‣ Yae Miko

About The Creator: Divine inspiration

"Ah yes, they're a great inspiration and pretty much all of our books related to them sell like hotcakes, we're currently on the 3rd volume of 'Divine Expressions for Dummies', we also do novels that are loosely based on them, 'Next thing I knew... I was a Deity', 'Me and My 100 Spouses' and one of my favorites is 'The Fake God' it is quite the tragedy and not the happiest book, but the end where the main character has their revenge is... satisfying."

About The Creator: Consort

"My, my, curious, aren't you? I can't really blame you, an individual like Y/n is quite the partner, a boring moment doesn't last long with them, they're just so fun to tease and their hands are very soft a perfect recommendation for everyone with fur. Hm? Everyone keeps telling you about how good they pet them? Oh well, I guess I can't blame those people, but I'll have to discuss this with Y/n when I see them..."

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⠀‣ Yoimiya

About The Creator: A Shared Enthusiasm

"Y/n! Have you seen them? They're always so busy... Sometimes they come to buy me fireworks whenever if they want to keep it as a souvenir of Inazuma or asking me if we can use them together. Fireworks don't need to wait for festivals to be used, and what is cool is that with Y/n no one dares to contradict them and tell us when and where we can't do fireworks, ahh... I hope I'll see them again soon."

About The Creator: Consort

"Unbelievable, right? If we have told me I would marry a God one day I would've laugh at them. When I met Y/n I didn't even know about their true identity, but lemme tell you, them creating Teyvat and all is the least interesting part about them, they're sweet and fun, they always tell stories about their other world and the kids and I love them so much. And they share my passion for fireworks! We're planning to do the biggest fireworks show that can be seen in all of Teyvat at the same time, even if they're lots of things we didn't consider but the thought is beautiful, isn't it? Aha... Also when I told pops about me and Y/n he couldn't stop smiling for the whole week! Though, I'm not sure if he understood the part that I told it was 'The Creator'."

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