#IF I HAD ONE MORE I CAN FULLY UNCAP IT ????

[plsleafmelon]

gachapin frenzy ended in one pull w ANOTHER of shalems weapon wow !!!! why do u give me so many :"))) mukky frenzy ended in thirty with a drang ball.... this banner sucks ass

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic March 12, prompt: retire, words: 953

Aka optometrist reg au (part 1? maybe) loosely based off of this post

James is having trouble breathing.

The problem is, he can’t quite remember how to do it right now. His brain, rather impressively, emptied of all of its contents the moment the optometrist opened the door.

Right off the bat, the man had been straight to business; swift stride into the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in hand, a curt “hello” and introduction before he sat down and uncapped a pen with his goddamn teeth. James could only stare dumbly, mouth agape as he stumbled over half-sentient responses to the all routine eye exam questions (“See okay with your current prescription?” A black curl falling over the doctor’s otherwise perfectly framed face, cheekbones carved by the sea, like stones.

“Uh huh.”

“Taking any current medications?” Beautiful silver-blade eyes meeting his expectantly.

“Uh-“ James coughing and clearing his throat, “no. No medications.”)

Now, he's at least regained his ability to form sentences. But as James watches the doctor fiddling with machinery, silver rings glinting in harsh, sterile lighting, he is finding immense difficulty in breathing like a normal human being.

“So,” James begins, leaning to rest his elbow on the table and swelling his chest ever-so-slightly. He does his best to smooth out his voice as he speaks, going for casual with just a sprinkling of something sultry. “Dr. Black, did you say it was?” He may not be able to fully function but God help him if he can’t still flirt.

The doctor's eyes flick up for only a split second, but James counts it as a win. “That’s correct.” He maneuvers what looks like an avant-garde torture contraption towards where James is sitting. “Rest your chin on the platform.”

James does as he’s told, holding back from an absurd urge to respond with a Yes, sir. He's definitely not conjuring a medley of alternate scenarios in his head in which Dr. Black orders him around. “And what might your first name be?”

“It might be of no relevance to the matter at hand, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me James, please.”

Regulus sits on the other side of the torture-machine and begins turning dials. “You should see a red X on the right side, James,” he replies flatly. Still, the sound of his name on the man’s tongue is fucking intoxicating. It's echoing around his skull--James James James JamesJamesJames--he wants to hear it a million more times, every minute of every day until his last.

James usually hates these appointments. Hates the big machines he has to stick his face in, blowing air and shining bright lights in his eyes. Hates that stupid picture of the house that they make him look at a million times over while some old man who looks just about ready to retire asks “One or two?”

But Dr. Black is not some old man.

He’s new—James has been coming here for years and has certainly never been graced with the sight of this angel-fallen-to-earth before. He's young, too; despite the way he carries the poise of a man with years of experience under his belt, cool and confident and collected, there’s no way Dr. Black is old enough to be more than a couple years out of school. All sharp edges and smooth skin.

And god, his skin. It looks impossibly soft, stretched over slender hands and freckled cheeks, strong nose and cut jaw. As James runs his eyes hungrily over the landscapes of peach-pale skin--hills and valleys spanning the doctor's face and neck and fingers and knuckles--he considers how easy it would be to reach out and touch it, find out for himself if it's really as smooth as it looks.

“James,” Dr. Black's voice cuts sharp through his fantasy, one brow raised where he's clearly caught James drooling over him. “Please look into the eyepiece.”

It’s not like James can help it. He’s a bit entranced by the way the doctor maintains such a stoic expression, posture rigid and cold eyes unwavering, especially now. It’s all the beauty of a pointed blade, glittering in the sunlight, begging to draw blood.

But James doesn’t miss the light blush now in full bloom across the man’s cheeks. Silver-clad fingers have begun tapping a sporadic pattern on the table as storm cloud eyes sweep down and back up James' face, quick as a flash of lightning, and isn’t that just curious? Suddenly, James wants to know what it would take to get that stone-cold cast to crack.

He shoots back a sly grin. “Sure thing, nameless doctor.” He looks into the contraption. “Oh would you look at that. A red X.”

The doctor lets out a muted sigh. He fidgets some more with the dials and buttons on the other side of the machine as James watches the X shift in and out of focus. He breaks the silence only when it's stretched for just a moment too long. “My name is Regulus. There’s gonna be a bright flash now.”

Immediately, a blinding white light flashes directly into his eye, burning a goddamn hole into his field of vision. He swears he can see the inside of his pupil for a moment.

But James doesn't care. Once the shock subsides, he finds himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Now we're getting somewhere.

He looks back up from the eyepiece to where the doctor, Regulus, is still intently focused on the computer and equipment. Evading James' gaze. Cheeks still pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus.”

[salsaseth]

After hearing my friend, James bring it up in a call, we started watching Lily Orchard's video about Pokemon to see all the bad takes in it.

When she starts playing the DS games, she uses a mod to smooth out the aliasing and uncap the game's framerate to 60. And gah damn does it look fuckin bad. Even worse is during the 3D games where she uses another mod to smooth out the 3D models and it looks like peeled oranges. Unnaturally smooth. But it does get funny when she talks about the game running like garbage when she's fucked with the game's logic. Like no shit, it's running at a framerate it was never meant for.

Something really funny also begins in the DS games. I don't know why, but she replaces one of the starters with Ralts, cuz she's got some favoritism for Gardevoir. All well and good, but you know, Ralts is weak as shit until it learns confusion and it's still frail. So it gets its ass kicked all the way until it evolves into Gardevoir. But because of how much asskicking it receives, and I swear this is true, she suspects the game is artificially raising the strength of the enemy pokemon, as a way to explain for why's she losing.

Almost as if the game is designed to use a stronger than average pokemon to get you through the early game. ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) Still, I don't fully understand why she refuses to use the regular starters. Especially when you can catch Ralts and Kirlia for most of the games. save for black and white. Speaking of.

One takeaway I've had from listening to it is what she says is more revealing about herself than what is intentional. The most telling thing is when she's going off about the Black and White characters for speaking about their ideals and opinions. I mean, she mashes through that with the A button (VISUAL NOVEL HATER SPOTTED), so it's when she's paying attention. I don't know if she just doesn't know what the game is supposed to be going for, or if she's just purposefully ignorant for the sake of contrarianism, but the game's themes are about truth and ideals. The truth is out there, but the ideals we have shape our perspective of the truth. Even Cheren, who represents the truth, is still shaped his ideal. It's a little more deeper than, 'Characters excited that they all have opinions,' but what do i know?

She rails against these characters, N in particular for having opinions and speaking them out. Meanwhile in X&Y, which its cast and characters are there to mostly stroke the character's dick, she vastly praises and prefers these characters to the ones in B&W. Hmmm. Characters that have opinions and speak them out are hated, while those that don't and heap praise on her are loved. I wonder if this says anything about her?

The video gets pretty boring the longer it goes on. The hot take well starts drying up and it quickly becomes a bad screenshot let's play. "Then I did this, and then I did that!"

That's all I got to report. Besides the shoehorning in of lefty takes. I don't know if it's because she's not funny or if she wields everything with as much subtlety as anvil-nunchuks, but when there's an opportunity to make a joke with a leftist-slant, it's as heavy handed as a Titan's ballsack and as funny as stale bread. I'm a leftist bastard myself, but every time the jokes were shoehorned in, I'm like, "The funny? Where is it?!" Especially when it was about Looker and Nanu. I get not liking the police, but this isn't the time or place for it. Leave the jokes to the professionals. Like my friend Plate. Several unemployment jokes were made at Lily's expense, and each one was funnier than the last.

I'll report back if there's anything worth commenting on. Me and the friends got to the end of Sun and Moon, so we have SwSh and SV left.

And if you had time to read this 'post', Lily, I think you had time to 'post' your resume to get a job ;D ;D ;D

[wallabywhump]

I may or may not scream at the screen every time I see the final chapter of you have my heart isn’t up yet 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I'm so sorry it's not up yet 😭😭😭

It's not on purpose, I had a lot of it finished, and plans to upload Sunday/Monday, but I've ended up having to rework and rewrite a *lot* of the chapter.

Full disclosure: I wasn't originally going to include what Buck and Tommy fully fought about, other than little hints and flashbacks (it would be flavour for my notes).

But I was writing and one of my friends asked if they could know the whole fight, and I ended up swinging into writing everything, which had a knock on affect on the whole fic, and then I wanted to add in more because I had more of the fight.

One thing led to another. 😅

I've written over 10k words in a 24 hour period lmao

I sent the first half of a fic to a lovely volunteer ( @tommykinardfan thank you so much) to check I'm on track this evening, and she has reassured me it's looking good so far!

(But also, the first half was 7.5k, so 😭😭🤣)

I am *fairly confident* in saying it will be up by the end of this week!

Please accept this pre-editing snippet as payment for my late posting! (I'll put it under a read only just in case people want to hold out for the full chapter!)

***

“You didn’t have to come over,” Tommy says, when he enters his living room and sees Eddie sitting on his phone.  

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, okay.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his phone but does hold up a bottle of water behind his head, waving it in Tommy’s general direction. “I feel like you would have ended up drowning in your toilet if I hadn’t come.”

Tommy snatches the water with more force than necessary. “I’m not a charity case,” Tommy growls. “I was drunk, and called you because…” Tommy trails off, and Eddie leans his head back on the sofa to look up at him.

“Because you were in a crisis?” Eddie asks. “Because you needed someone to talk to? Because, and feel free to tell me if I’m off the mark, you trust me?” Eddie flutters his eyelashes and smiles.

Tommy uncaps the water and starts gulping it down. “Don’t flatter yourself, you’re just the first one who picked up.”

Eddie coos and rolls his eyes. “You called me.” He’s saying it like it’s an achievement.

And maybe it is. Tommy didn’t call anyone last time, he locked himself away and expected people’s lives to carry on without him in them, easily removed. Eddie hadn’t let him leave, and this time when the sky had fallen, Eddie had been the first friend he wanted to call.

Not that he’s going to admit that to Eddie when he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “And I won’t do it again, I didn’t know you’d come and dad me.”

“I did not dad you, this was…friendship responsibilities.”

Tommy drops down onto the couch, sinking into it with a sigh. The shower has woken him up some, and brushing his teeth has removed the taste of alcohol (and Evan) from his mouth, and the water has helped his throat feel less like death.

“Thanks,” Tommy mutters, letting down his defensive walls finally. “For doing this.”

“You called me,” Eddie repeats, and this time there’s a depth of emotion behind it that Tommy can recognise as patience, worry, love.   

Tommy sits there, picking at the label on the water bottle, and waits for Eddie to inevitably ask what happened. Now he hasn’t got the buzz of alcohol, or the heat of adrenaline, or the apathy of shock, he doesn’t think he can say it without Eddie asking.

Tommy spends so much of his time being vulnerable, baring his belly without being asked, trying to make everyone else feel safe and heard around him – Tommy can’t make himself do it right now.

Eddie sighs, and Tommy tenses.

“What happened?” Eddie asks. “On the phone you were more slur than sense, so I didn’t catch much. When did you and Buck get back together?”  

“We didn’t,” Tommy says.

Eddie raises an eyebrow which clearly means, ‘want to try that again?’

“We were at a party. It was a good day, and it was a quiet moment.” Quieter at least, they’d been alone, tucked away from the world. Tommy stares at the bottle in his hands. “He said ‘we never said it’s over.’” Tommy wets his lips. “And then, he called me his boyfriend. We kissed about it.”

It had been perfect, settling Tommy in his skin, coming home, feeling alive.

Followed by an ice chill and his heart being ripped apart.

“And then he ran away. Crying. And won’t answer my texts, or my calls. So, fucked that up, didn’t I?”

Eddie hums. “Sounds like you both fucked that up.”

[dragon-chica]

Somnophilia - Tim Drake

Fandom: Batman

I’m supposed to be asleep but instead I’m writing things to do when Tim is 🤦🏻‍♀️My phone has formatted this so weird.

Tim brought up the idea to you multiple times, and you first actually considered it when he fell asleep on you, mid-fuck.

You were hesitant about the suggestion at first, but, Tim reasoned how he tends to fall asleep immediately once his head hits the bed, willing or not.

He’s out like a light and dead to the world, the only thing you know can wake him is a special emergency Batman alarm.

Which is great for sleeping with him, cuddle him however you wish, he will be out for hours.

But it’s a little tricky when you want to do more.

And honestly it’s kind of awkward to get yourself off with your boyfriend snoozing directly beside you.

”What if you wake up? What if you don’t wake up?”

“Then I have a good dream and dried cum in the morning.” He shrugged, smiling at you.

”You really don’t think I’d clean you up afterwards?”

You’re still a little unsure the first time, but with given consent and a burning desire for your boyfriend and his beautiful body-

You start slow, watching his face for any signs of waking up, gently pushing his loose shirt up to reveal his chest, littering kisses as the fabric rises.

Not a peep.

Next his boxers, you again watch his face as one hand slips beneath him and into his shorts, giving a nice squeeze to his round butt that earns you a small breathy gasp.

Once you slowly remove them, excitement is building as he stays asleep as you drag the soft material down his thighs, do you notice he’s already half hard.

You smirk, maybe he does still get to enjoy this too.

Grabbing the bottle of lube beside you, then lifting one leg to bend at the knee over your leg while you scoot to sit at his patted thighs.

You uncap the bottle and coat two fingers, despite warming up a little on your hand Tim still gasps inaudibly as one cool coated finger presses against his hole and circling it lightly before pressing in.

It takes a few moments to get him properly stretched, and you relish the small noises Tim makes for you even like this, before sliding his silver and jeweled plug into his ass.

You tap the back lightly once it’s in making him jolt ever the slightest.

A sure fire hint to know what you did during the night.

You press a careful kiss to his lips, your sleeping beauty. And how beautiful he does look.

Both hands move up to his chest, taking an indulgent second to cup and grope his pecs before focusing on his rosy nipples.

Pinching and rolling the sensitive flesh between your fingers has Tim whimpering in his sleep, a needy look on his face while he sleeps and his dick fully hard and standing now.

If you didn’t want to do more with him, you’d continue, it’s a wonderful sight watching him cum just from teasing and tormenting his chest.

Figuring he’s had enough, and your own dry mouthed anticipation building, you remove your shorts and take the lube again and prepare yourself before straddling Tim’s muscular thighs and sink onto him.

The familiar feeling of him inside you as you settle down makes you groan, eyes half-lidded and gazing at your lover.

Not the first time he’s been asleep in this position, totally passed out and arms dropped to his sides, but the first where you will continue.

One hand helps hold yourself up as you start to move and the other cups Tim’s face, holding his jawline and tracing a finger over his soft lips before you lean down and kiss him, a little more forceful this time, but just as quick.

That’s a downside to this, you fleetingly think. You’ll have to demand more kisses when he’s finally awake.

Your noises and Tim’s near silence, bare a few soft moans, are a sharp contrast to your usual times together.

You still as your orgasm finishes, trembling thighs and shaky breaths while you steady yourself with a hand on Tim’s chest, half tempted to just go to sleep like this- laying onto his chest with him buried deep and hard inside you.

But you lift yourself up, enjoying seeing your own mess painting his skin and settle on the bed beside him.

Even for Tim you’re surprised he’s still out. And your slightly shaky hand loosely around him while you shake off the rest of your high.

Tim moans, quiet and deep when you squeeze the base on his cock, trying ever slightly to raise his hips to you before going pliant again.

One hand smooths over his strong thigh and you kiss back up, trailing your lips over his lean torso and nipping his neck.

Occupying your mouth on his neck, licking up to his Adam’s apple then to the juncture of his neck and shoulder where he loves for you to bite.

You work on leaving a good mark and he groans, louder this time, weak like he’s pleading for your to continue.

Tim’s breathing becomes shallow and ragged in short pants as your slick hand jerks him off, pausing to massage your thumb right below the head and tightening your hold before doing it again.

He’s quick to cum, white spurting out over your hand and onto his pelvis while you keep jerking him through his orgasm.

His whole body tensed at his climax then released as his dick softens in your hold.

Pressing a light kiss to his cheek and whispering “Good boy.” to him before getting up on weak legs to go grab a wet rag.

You come back with a warm washcloth and can’t help but admire Tim while you wipe him off, sweat making his bangs stick together and managing to both look blissfully fucked out and at complete peace.

Finishing up, you toss the rag on the side for tomorrow, finally ready for bed yourself.

Satisfied and happy, you pull his shirt back down, laying yourself comfortably over Tim to go to sleep.

His heart thumps rhythmically below your ear as you snuggle him and pull the covers over you both.

One leg slides between his bare ones and his soft cock is warm against your thigh, comfortable and content.

“I love you Timmy, good night” You mumble tiredly and press a feather light kiss below his chin.

Tim mumbles something you can’t understand and are too out of it too, but one arm moves over your back before you fully drift off.

[scriveyner]

always summer #16

always summer #16: foot job | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1300 words

Akutagawa was still lying face down in the bed when Atsushi returned from his early-morning run with Chuuya. He snorted in amusement but didn’t disturb him, rinsing off and emerging from the shower to discover he’d at least changed positions. Atsushi sat on Akutagawa’s side of the bed and poked him with a finger, and Rashomon stabbed through the mattress approximately a handspan to the right of Atsushi’s thigh in a clear threat display.

Continue on ao3 or:

“I told you not to drink the moonshine,” Atsushi said, and he could take a guess at what the noise that creaked out of Akutagawa in response meant. “Dazai-san got it from someone off the side of the road, who knows what was actually in it.”

Akutagawa raised his head just slightly. “If there is anything left in that jar, I will pour it down your throat, see how you like it then.”

Atsushi patted his shoulder. “I’ll get you some water.”

“It feels like there is a fully-grown African bull elephant crashing around behind my eyes.”

“And some painkillers.”

When he returned Akutagawa was at least sitting upright, which was a marked improvement, even if he was squinting off into the distance muzzily. Atsushi presented him the water and Akutagawa pressed the bottle to his cheek, eyes closed, before uncapping it and drinking. “Are you going to be alright?” Atsushi asked, returning to his seat on the edge of the mattress, and Akutagawa squinted at the bottle in his hands and groaned.

“The elephants are multiplying.”

“That’s what you get for leaving them alone in there. Ow.” Atsushi laughed when Akutagawa hit him with the now half-full bottle and raised it again threateningly. Atsushi rubbed his arm. “Sorry, sorry. What do you need from me?”

“Silence, preferably.” Akutagawa rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If you can manage that, at least. And…” his mouth crooked, and he pressed his lips together flatly. “No. You will make fun, and I am far from the mood to deal with it.”

Atsushi leaned back on his hand; head cocked. “I won’t laugh,” he promised.

“You will, and I won’t stand for it.” Akutagawa looked away and sighed, as Atsushi said nothing but continued to look at him. “Fine,” Akutagawa muttered. “What remains of my dignity is already in tatters, what difference does it make.” He set the water bottle in his lap and raised both of his hands, palms out, and flexed his hands.

Atsushi stared at him, uncomprehending.

“When you,” Akutagawa was clearly frustrated with having to vocalize this. “When your hands do the thing, and they—”

“Oh!” Atsushi pulled his tee shirt off over his head and at the same time transformed his arms, fur running to his shoulders, hands halfway between paw and palm. “This?” he asked, offering his hands out to Akutagawa, and without hesitation Akutagawa grabbed one of Atsushi’s proffered hands and pressed it against the side of his face, exhaling loudly, eyes closed.

Atsushi stared at him, eyes wide, as Akutagawa gently rubbed his cheek against the inside of Atsushi’s palm. “The texture is so nice,” he mumbled. “The pads are, mm, nice.” His eyes were still closed, and the expression on his face was one of bliss. Atsushi was entranced. “Don’t laugh,” Akutagawa warned; as if Atsushi had even been close to the thought.

“I’m not,” Atsushi murmured, very gently brushing Akutagawa’s hair back with his other hand. He could see the stress melting from him as he performed the action, like weight dripping from his shoulders, and the feeling bubbling in his chest grew warm. “I had no idea you liked these. I’m always so afraid I’ll hurt you…”

Akutagawa opened his eyes slowly. He tilted his head back, pulling Atsushi’s paw down his face, so he was cupping more of his jaw. “Is this…helping?” Atsushi wondered aloud, and Akutagawa hummed an enthusiastic noise, shifting on the bed and knocking the bottle over the edge of the mattress.

“Touch me more,” Akutagawa whispered hoarsely, Rashomon cascading off his shoulders, baring his skin for Atsushi, who shifted on the bed, twisting to meet him. He fell back against the pillows, Atsushi’s paws resting on his chest, and he leaned in close, kissing the warm flush that crept down Akutagawa’s neck to his collarbone. He ran his hands over Akutagawa’s chest, careful with his claws, gently pressed to the skin—until Rashomon darted out, grabbing Atsushi by the wrist and yanking, out of the blue. His hand slid off Akutagawa’s side, claws scoring shallow, red marks into his skin and Akutagawa moaned.

“Again,” he demanded, and Atsushi straddled his thighs, claws curled in toward his palms. He didn’t want to hurt Akutagawa, no matter what he wanted, it didn’t feel right to him. After a moment of listening to Akutagawa’s breaths rattle through his lungs, he unclenched his hands and rested both enormous palms against the skin just under his navel, feeling Akutagawa’s muscles jump.

“Do you want me to…?” he asked, the base of his palm rucking the waistband of the underwear Akutagawa had worn to bed. He was breathing hard too, though he’d barely exerted any effort, watching how Akutagawa was affected was really getting to him, now.

“No,” Akutagawa breathed, and Atsushi cursed everything he could think of at the moment, at least until Akutagawa arched his back and breathed, “use your feet.”

He pulled Akutagawa’s underwear off and he groaned, cock lying sticky against his skin. He was leaking a lot of fluid from the tip, Atsushi’s paws on him were apparently a huge hit. Atsushi breathed hard through his nose, he wanted to lick so, so badly; instead, he shifted his position, supporting his weight back on his hands, and pressed his foot—transformed, like his hands—against Akutagawa’s cock.

The pads that appeared along the bottom of his foot like this were warm, they slid well against the velvety-slick flesh; and without even thinking about it Atsushi shifted his foot so he was stroking with the space between his big toe and the rest. Akutagawa moaned again, shuddering under him as Atsushi pushed Akutagawa’s cock back against his belly, stroking slowly with his foot. Akutagawa pushed both of his palms into his eyes, back arching against the bed.

He was careful, and slow, with this—the claws on his feet were no joke, either, and Akutagawa was trembling all over, hands still pushed into his eyes, mouth open; Atsushi had never seen him look quite like this and it was fascinating. He was going to pieces, sweat shining on his skin, muscles tensing, trying his hardest to last as long as he possibly could; Atsushi slid his hand into his own underwear and began jerking himself off slow, in time with every drag of his foot up Akutagawa’s cock.

Akutagawa let out a choked noise, a sob edged in Atsushi’s name, and came all over his belly. Atsushi exhaled, after a moment he moved, climbing to his knees and hand wrapped fully around his own cock. He tugged his underwear down enough to free him, and jerked himself off over Akutagawa’s heaving chest.

Eventually, Akutagawa dropped his hands from his eyes. They were red-rimmed and watery, and he looked at Atsushi for a moment before his eyes darted away, flush darkening across his face. “Don’t,” he said, gruffly, and Atsushi leaned over him, hand still transformed into a paw. He turned Akutagawa’s face back toward Atsushi, delivering a kiss that Akutagawa melted into.

“Feel any better?” Atsushi asked, finally, and Akutagawa groaned, thumping his head back into the pillow. Then he frowned and considered it.

“Strangely,” he said, slowly, “yes.”

Atsushi grinned triumphantly and flopped down next to him. “Good,” he pronounced and yawned hugely. “That took a lot of out me, gonna pas’ out now,” he mumbled and tucked his face next to Akutagawa’s shoulder. He was out like a light before Akutagawa even had the wherewithal to respond.

Akutagawa sighed and patted Atsushi’s head before closing his eyes. “My weretiger,” he hummed, content; then pushed his other hand against his forehead and groaned softly. This hangover wasn’t going away anytime soon.

[hauntedhokage]

Day 1: Pegging

Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: pegging, mentions of edging, use of “cock” referring to the dildo

[Kinktober masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi}

He needed to relax.

Fucking you stupid to vent the tension out was unfortunately not the solution this time, as he’d tried that last night and still couldn’t fucking sleep. You had slept like a goddamn baby, but watching you sleep was only truly relaxing if he was well rested and, since he wasn’t, he was just truly fucking irritated for the rest of the night. Was it too much to ask that he feel truly relaxed and sleep for longer than 45 minutes before he has to go watch TV on low volume in a desperate attempt to at least doze with a chess tournament trying to put him to sleep? Apparently so.

Which called for the roles to be reversed: he needed to get fucked stupid and you knew exactly what he meant when he said it during dinner with pink cheeks and a tired scowl. The poor guy needed it badly, thankfully you knew just what to do.

And you greatly appreciate the view of the number one hero laying face down in the middle of the bed and trying his best to relax into the mattress that you walk in on when you leave the bathroom just a couple hours after you’ve eaten. He was making your job easy for you, but you could still make him work for it a little bit. 

“That bruise is new.” You can’t help but point out, gently grazing the angry red mark on his side just above his hip. Vaguely shaped like the heel of a boot, which tells you exactly which superfriend had gotten him so good. “Tell Midoriya to ease up in training or I’ll give him a few fresh ones.”

“We can deal with that later. Please just fuck me already.” 

“You’re so bossy.” Even still, you’re uncapping the lube and watching with a small smile as he starts to squirm beneath you. “But you wanna do it doggy? Don’t wanna look at me?”

“Prep is easier for you like this. Flip me over after so I don’t fuck up the sheets.”

“You say that as if you haven’t already been prepping,” you comment, gently tugging on the plug nicely hidden between his cheeks and grinning at the pleasured hiss that leaves him. “You really kill the fun sometimes.”

“You like fingering my asshole?”

“I like teasing you when I do. Getting you all worked up is half of why this works so well to get you right.”

“Didn’t want you to have to hold back, just wanted - fuuuck-“ the groan that leaves him as you ease the plug out makes you feel giddy. All of this was in your hands, only you had his trust to see him like this while wearing a comically bright pink strap on. “You do that shit on purpose.”

“Yeah.” And you’re putting some of the lube on his mostly prepped hole, relishing in the quiet hiss that leaves him at the cool sensation before two of your fingers are working to spread the lube around and inside. “I dunno, baby, it’s nice when you’re quiet.”

“Rude.”

“As if that was news to you.”

“Maybe I’ll put out a request for someone nice to fuck me stupid.”

“I’m very nice to you.” You curl your fingers as you say that, pulling a stuttered curse from your blonde lover as your free hand starts to spread lube over the dildo strapped to your hips. “See? Treatin’ you real sweet.”

If he had a coherent train of thought, you’re sure he’d be telling you to fuck off right about now. But instead he’s just watching you over his shoulder, complying when you remove your fingers and use them to gesture for him to turn over. He’s careful to avoid kicking you as he does, and you watch as he adjusts the placement of his hips on the pillow. 

Your hand not holding the dildo carefully holds his thigh, trying to massage the muscles to help him relax more as you push forward with the dildo. This was a well practiced dance, he knew exactly how to keep himself to make it easy and you appreciated that he’d learned to let go of his need to control the situation when it came to getting pegged. 

“How’s it feeling?” you question softly as you’re finally fully sheathed, your hips pressed to the firm muscles of his ass as you watch him soak in the feeling of being so stuffed full. 

“Fucking great, but just please fuck me.”

He was already desperate, meaning that he definitely did more than just prep himself with the plug. He’d definitely edged himself; for how long you wouldn’t know until he told you, since he got desperate after just a few minutes of delay. But ultimately you were going to give him what he needed, since he asked so nicely.

“You look so pretty taking my cock like this,” you praise, getting only a groan in response when you finally start to move. You know he wants fast and rough, and you’d give him that for sure, but you need to be careful with the number one hero and he knows that just as well as you did. You’re glad that he’s got his legs up, your hands on his thighs keeping them where you wanted them and not allowing him to try to hook a leg around you to guide your movements. He was mostly in charge, but not really. 

“I can take it, babe, you know I can. Fuck me already.”

“How badly do you want it?” you ask, leaning forward a bit and smiling when he flips you off. “That’s not being very nice, Kats.”

“Baby~” Oh, that was the most pathetic sound you’d ever heard from the blonde. A performance like that needed to be rewarded, and that has you picking up your pace in hopes of hearing more desperate whines from him. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

“Just like this?”

“Need your hand.” You’d normally deny a request like that so soon, but this puts you in true control over his orgasm and you’re taking a gentle hold of his cock. The groan that leaves him is music to your ears and you choose to stroke him slowly as you continue to fuck into him roughly. You can’t hear yourself think over how loud he is, and you know he’s not thinking at all as his hands grip the sheets beneath him. The mission had been achieved - you’d managed to fuck him stupid. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he warns, and you nod your understanding and encouragement while continuing to work his body and trying your best to keep the pace of your strokes steady even as your thrusts get harder. “Goddamn, I – shit – please don’t stop.”

“Not until you’re spent,” you assure, watching with a smile as he finally lets himself go. He really was pretty as his hips jerk against yours, face red as his cum releases onto his stomach and chest until finally he relaxes back into the mattress - breathless, spent, and completely content. “Atta boy.”

He only hums, letting you pull out and watching through half lidded eyes as you slide off the bed and move towards the bathroom. When you return, it’s not directly to the bed and he’s not pleased if the grunt that leaves him is any indicator. But his hand catches yours as you try to walk away again, what follows is only more surprising.

“Get up here.” The request has you looking at him with interest, giving his hand a squeeze when he tries to pull. “On my face.”

“How are you not exhausted?”

“My body’s useless, but I can still eat you out. Now get up here, brat.”

[pinkandgoldensoul]

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pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, online hate towards reader, insecurities, fluff, angst other notes: fake instagram things? Loosely based on Singapore GP 2022 word count: 10.1k (as always, feel free to use dividers to split the chapter into chunks!) A huge thanks to whoever reblogs or likes the story and a special thanks to @ally4and33 for her support in the last couple days! ♥ Love you all!

It felt soft. The light knocking on your eyelids, asking for permission with its warmth. As your entire body slowly moved, awakening, you snuggled up to the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders and enjoyed its coziness. Max’s smell still trapped onto the pillow, you smiled with eyes closed. He wasn’t there, but you knew he had been all night, cuddling with you and falling asleep; you still could feel his thumb repetitively rubbing your skin as he held you close and the beating of his heart lingered on your mind as a beautiful song that you play on loop, knowing all the lyrics. By heart. Waking up to those memories – real ones, this time – made your insides twist in a pleasant discomfort; you knew you weren’t mistaken, you knew Max had stayed over with you, holding each other, and you didn’t have to fear or mistrust your mind. You had snuggled and cuddled together, and nobody could doubt it. No drunk, slurred mental estate could put those moments at risk. You owned them, forever.

You looked over to the side, only to realize Max wasn’t lying next to you. You weren’t surprised, though; you figured he may have decided to go training, have breakfast or simply get up. Staring at the ceiling, you smiled: your nose didn’t feel as stuck as it was the day before and an unknown wave of positive, bright feelings earned you a decent dose of optimism. You probably had been needing it for quite a long time. «Good morning, y/n.» Max’s voice made your head snap up towards the door, and you actually would’ve preferred not to see him. That smile wrinkling his lips, his eyes brimming with light, his whole appearance blinding you way more than sun beams could ever manage to: everything about him enchanted you. «Morning,» you whispered, stretching a bit. «Slept well?» he asked, getting closer to the bed. «Really, really well.» you answered, uncapable of stifling in a huge smile. «Bet you did, it’s 11:30!» Max said, laughing. «You sleep in way more than I do, c’mon!» As you said that, you rolled over the bed, facing the pillow, and you felt the mattress sinking down onto your side due to Max’s weight. «I’ve bought you some medicine.» You eyed the small plastic bag he still held in his hands. «I think I’m doing better.» «Doesn’t mean you’ve fully recovered.» Max added. «I know, but-» «No, don’t even bother telling me you don’t need medicine because I’m not listening to you.» After a small pause, Max looked at you again, almost unsure. «Do you really feel better?» «Yes, still a bit sluggish, but I feel fine.» Despite the positives in your feedback, he couldn’t help but get stuck thinking about the negatives. «Sluggish? Maybe you have a little bit of temperature?» «I don’t think so?» Max rummaged into the plastic bag and took out a brand-new thermometer. «Why did you buy a new one?» you chuckled at the sight. «Because now this is your personal thermometer.» «Thanks…? Didn’t know I’d need a personal one.» you raised a brow, still amused. «Oh, but this is special, y/n. It will know everything about you.» You inspected the packaging thoroughly, trying to convince yourself it would, without really succeeding. «You can give a name to it, if you want.» «Max, it’s a freaking thermometer!» you laughed. «So what? It may get offended if you don’t. You know, it’s really sensitive.» As he cracked that lame joke, you glared at him. «Tell me you didn’t say that.» Max’s cheeks immediately squished upwards to make room for his mesmerizing and innocent smile, happy and giggling as a kid would do after making a mess. And you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning at him as well. «You’re so stupid…» «And now I’m sure you don’t have a temperature, because your heart’s stone cold. Poor thermometer.»

After a couple of minutes – and a lot of insisting – Max dragged you out of the bed so that you could have some breakfast-brunch-lunch-whatever you have before noon; then, he persuaded you to take some medicine to relieve the dizziness and you started to feel better. Max noticed your eyes got livelier and livelier as time passed by and it only encouraged him to suggest new activities, as he would’ve liked to spend all day talking with you, relaxing on the couch, or onto the bed watching a movie, but in his mind a whim, an urge, a need and, ultimately, a duty, called upon him. Getting ready for Singapore. He needed to come back to his other house to get some simulator work done, he was missing it; but how could he ask you to come with him and get bored all alone? Or if you decided to stay at the apartment, how could he leave you alone again? Max felt troubled at the way he had gradually become unable to accept the idea of you being on your own; it wasn’t a matter of trust, despite the latest events. He simply couldn’t let go of your soft hands, of your scent, of your lips curving into a beautiful smile, of your voice chanting him like a siren.

Sitting onto the bed, Max played with your hair, combining strands into a messy braid. So lost in the process, he didn’t even remember when and why he had asked you to let him do so. «Are you going for a loose braid?» you enquired, enjoying the slow-paced rhythm of his fingers working on your hair. «Yes, my specialty.» As he heard you giggling, Max felt his heart caving in. «When did you learn to braid?» «When I was seven. My mum taught me how to braid Victoria’s hair.» A fond smile immediately bloomed onto your lips, and you were lucky enough not to have Max in front of you, so that you could hide it. He had shared with you a few of his childhood memories before, and his sister’s name always came up, either because she was present or absent during his karting days; you could tell he really loved her and somehow still felt sorry for taking their father and himself away from her. He had also showed you some pictures, which had your heart melting in awe, though you’d try to dissimulate. Max was a loving person and you cherished every seed of affection he would plant along the way, just so you could grow even fonder of him. «Is it done?» you asked, as the weight of your hair leaned back onto your skin. «Yes.» With a quick motion, you brought the braid forward, onto your collar bone, and stared at it. Max sat back in front of you and got captured by the sun light shining through the window behind your back, reflecting its gold onto some rebel strands of hair, as a perfect frame to your face. Reacting way too late to your “Thank you”, Max stuttered, realizing he still had to tell you about his plan. Had he prepared one? Not really. But his instinct dictated it to him, spontaneously, as he started speaking to you. «Tomorrow I need to go back to the house and get done the training for the race and I was thinking you could come with me.» Your eyes immediately flicked to his, a glimpse of surprise flashing inside of them. «A-are you sure? I don’t want to bother you…» «I’ll be locked inside a room pretty much all the time, how could you ever disturb me?» he chuckled. As you pondered in silence, Max prompted you with all the activities you could undertake there and reassured you about getting proper medications if you still needed them, offering to be the one to go buy them. As he kept maxplaining in order to persuade you, you giggled and stopped his rambling. «Max, it’s okay. I’ll come.» you smiled. His face immediately lit up, and your chest ignited at the sight; without noticing, his fingers had reached yours onto the bedcover and they had shared a rush of electricity, of magic. Of complicity. Of… something. Something you couldn’t name, but definitely something sweet, warm, comforting and almost painful at the same time. #

«This is the room. Do you need me to show you the bathroom?» «No, we’ve been here a few days ago, I remember.» «Fine.» Max scratched his head. «I’m… I’m going to ask what’s for dinner.» «Okay… I’ll take out my toiletries, then.» «Perfect!» Max rushed out of the bathroom quickly, eaten alive by embarrassment. He’d been awkward in his life before and obviously had slipped up countless times, but after that little talk, a thin veil of uncertainty, hesitation and discomfort weighed down onto his cheeks as a fire, covering the skin with a soft blush and making his hands slightly clammy. Max hated not being in control of his heart drumming inside the ribcage, pleading to get out and reach its half; he hated his voice cracking or sounding insecure despite the attempts at dissimulating; and he also hated his mind running, racing on its own and replaying moments he’d prefer not to be reminded of while standing in front of you. Could he really blame his mind, though? After all, he had been the one to ask you to come back to the house where you nearly had kissed, nearly had hooked up, nearly had crossed the fine line between friends and not-just-friends; still, it was the place you had danced clinging to each other, got drunk together with smiles, whispers, fingers intertwining and shivers, cutting all the noise and everybody else out of your piece of heaven. All these memories were mere rings to a longer chain and the more Max tried to trail back to its beginning, the further it would get due to the new – old – images of you two together, packed inside the same untitled folder of his heart. The only partial relief was he wouldn’t be able to spend too much time with you due to the simulator training.

He wasn’t alone in his struggles, though. You avoided the reflecting surface of the mirror in which you had seen played forbidden fantasies only a couple days before, and as you turned around taking a closer look to the bathroom, you eyed the bathrobe you had worn, all your attention channeled towards those three letters on full display. Max. You recalled yourself freaking out in there, convinced you and him had slept together, then stealing the robe away without a second thought. When did it all become so overwhelming you would fall apart simply going back to those memories? You closed the cabinet with a firm thud: getting through the sudden closeness had never seemed so hard.

«Hello?» Slowly waking up, you tried opening your eyes. «Hi, Alice, what’s up.» It was Max speaking; his voice was distant, but still clear enough to hear it. «No, I’m awake. Why are you calling, though?» He seemed like he was in the room next to yours, at the phone with someone. «Hope it’s not a new media activity, we already have a lot this week.» Visualizing the floor plan in your head, you reasoned he was in his bedroom. «What? Is this a joke?» As Max’s tone raised, you couldn’t refrain yourself from eavesdropping a little bit more attentively. «But where did they get these numbers? Did they make them up? Unbelievable…» Numbers? Was he talking about simulation work? «Well, we could sue them for defamation. ‘Cause we’re fine, right?» Nope, definitely not simulation work. Your forehead hurt, and with those words dancing in your brain confusion inevitably grew. «Alice, can we please talk about this on Wednesday? Just tell me that other thing.» Hands rubbing tiredness out of your face, you sat onto the bed. «For fuck’s sake… Is it bad?» Feet barely touching the ground, you tried gathering energies to get up. «THEY SAID WHAT?!» But Max’s altered voice got you flinching, startled, frozen in place. «How do they dare? Write down all their names, because I’m not being interviewed by those assholes! Don’t get them near me! Fucking dickheads.»

With featherlike steps, heart thumping in your chest, you leaned against the door frame of Max’s room, trying not to disturb him and hinting at your presence at the same time. «No, we’re not discussing it now,» he said in a hurry, after noticing you were standing a few meters away. You unsurely walked towards him. «But I want this to be clear: I am deciding what to do, and I don’t want anybody else to interfere.» As Max abruptly ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket, only to look at you, the breath you were holding finally released. «Who was it?» you managed to whisper, full of doubts and uncertainty. Max, noticing your distress and able to read that little veil of sleepiness you hadn’t been able to shrug off your face, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, giving you a shy smile. «Alice Hedworth.» You raised a brow, in confusion. «The communications manager of the team.» he plainly answered. You looked down, recalling the quick-tempered replies he had given, then raised your eyes back at him. «Why would you have to sue people? What happened?» «Did you eavesdrop?» You gaped at him, feeling like a thief caught red-handed. «Uhm… It woke me up, so…» Max sighed. He’d rather not tell you, but he was aware it was inevitable for you to find out eventually, so there was no point in hiding it from you. Plus, there was probably nothing to worry about. Or at least Max hoped so. «Some journalists claim we breached the cost cap last year. They also say another team is involved, but of course, we’re the ones under the spotlight and now they’re complaining about how it’s unfair we won the championship, since we did it illegally, to their saying.» Max’s placid expression wasn’t able to instill reassurance in you. «But you guys are really fine?» «Of course we’re fine, they’re just coming at us because they cannot accept they’ve lost and scandal is the only way to bring us down at the moment, since their car can’t.» He slightly chuckled at his own comment, but again, it did nothing to calm your mind down. «How could they invent all of this? I mean, it’s a pretty big accusation, they must have some sort of proof in order to say it… How did they get numbers?» «I don’t know, I’m not an accountant. And you aren’t a detective, y/n.» Max said, smiling at you. «C’mon, let’s go have breakfast.» He was guiding you towards the kitchen with his fingers barely brushing against your lower back, when suddenly another thought crossed your mind. «What was the second thing?» «Uh?» he said, caught off guard. «You said you wouldn’t release interviews to some journalists.» you explained, taking a seat. He frowned. «You really paid attention to the conversation, didn’t you?» Max turned his back to you, grabbing two cups from the cupboard and hiding his reaction to the topic. «You don’t have to worry about it.» he downplayed. «Just paparazzi being annoying as always. But they’ll be taken care of.» You would’ve liked to pay more attention to the way his tone had subtly turned serious, suggesting bother and almost rage; the last bit of the sentence been spitted out of the mouth as a curse, in a lower voice, so that its darkness couldn’t reach you.

You should’ve known. You should’ve expected it to happen, sooner or later. It was bound to happen, you told yourself. After all, been dragged down the pitlane by one of the most famous drivers in the world under thousands of flashing cameras wasn’t really a gesture that would get anyone go unnoticed by the press. Of course, medias had gone crazy over those pictures taken in Monza, but the true bomb was dropped with the rumors of the probably-not-so-private party of last week. Suddenly, your name started to travel from mouth to mouth, even though nobody had ever acknowledged your presence before. You went from being a stranger to the Cupid’s arrow breaking into Max’s cold heart, the one who caused him and Kelly to argue and ultimately split, a mysterious girl no one knew who had unspecified intentions: clout? Money? Visibility? After all, you could’ve never gained those alone: you weren’t that beautiful. Kelly was way prettier than you; she brought a heavy and significant surname and was successful in her field. Who were you? A parasite? A gold digger in search of fifteen minutes of fame? A lot of people agreed on the fact that you definitely didn’t look like someone worthy of being pictured together with Max Verstappen. To be fair, nobody had prepared you for it anyway, but you couldn’t say Kelly hadn’t warned you.

The weather in Singapore was extremely humid; you couldn’t tell, though, if the sweat forming onto your skin was the product of the low atmospheric pressure or the fruit of being swamped and chased by a group of photographers, journalists and phones used as microphones, directly pointing at you like knives. It wasn’t a walk of shame; indeed, you couldn’t understand what was there to be ashamed of, you didn’t know what you were supposed to tell those people, and neither could guess what they expected to hear when there was nothing you had to say. Still, your gut sensed the hidden words and the secret turmoil you had to keep inside, paired up with the anxious oppression of the small crowd surrounding you, addressing questions at you, as you marched head-low towards Red Bull’s garage. «Are you the reason Max and Kelly Piquet broke up?» «How long has he been cheating on Kelly with you?» «Y/n, please answer some questions for us!» «How did you guys meet? When did your relationship developed into something more?» «Y/n, please, can you confirm the rumors about the party in Monaco?» «Can you tell us more about your family?» You abruptly halted your steps. Which family?, you bitterly said to yourself. Still lost in thought, you distinctly heard the clicks of a camera taking pictures. In that exact moment, you felt nothing more than a lifeless doll inside a lions’ cage: you weren’t a person anymore, you were just an object, without feelings and sensitivity, which had to withstand whatever they wanted to do to you or give them anything they tried to gain from you. Before rage could take the upper hand, you felt two hands dragging you away from the journalists. «It’s enough pestering for today.» You felt Carlos quickly grabbing your arms and guiding you towards the heart of the paddock, in order to leave all of them behind and preventing them from even daring to follow you. «I promise you the hospitality is a much quieter place.» he said, smiling. A veil of numbness, though, had washed emotions away from your face: reality had thrown an ice bucket at you, not only forcing you to face your inner chaotic magma of feelings, but justify the lack or the presence of them in front of the world as well. It was clear, you weren’t ready. You told yourself the timing of the news was absolute crap, unmerciful, cruel; if it had happened a couple months earlier, the situation would’ve been almost totally under control. Because you would’ve had nothing to control. «Don’t mind them, they’re going to drop it soon.» Carlos’ words momentarily distracted from your trail of thoughts, and you were glad they did. «Hopefully you’re right.» you sighed.

You both plopped onto a small couch in the living area, absentmindedly watching the tv hung on the wall. Sitting in silence, caught in your headspace, you didn’t notice the Spaniards eyes studying your expression. «So… Italy did good to the both of you, uh?» Carlos smugly looked at you. You rolled your eyes, kind of annoyed. «Stop it.» «I mean, now I get why you were so worried something happened at the party.» «Aren’t you supposed to help me relax?» «Isn’t it working?» Your furrowed eyebrows made your confusion clear. «No?» «I think it does. Now that you’re mad at me, you’re getting those journalists out of your head.» As a faint smile lingered onto your lips, a voice coming from the tv immediately caught your attention, drew your gaze, captured your undivided attention: Max’s. Seeing him suddenly lit up your opaque features, and Carlos noticed; unfortunately, he also witnessed distress and worry replace the fondness inside your eyes. You couldn’t bear the sight of it. No, as much as you tried to avoid it, there was an inner part of you that shattered in pieces while hearing journalists insinuating stuff without proof, implicitly – but not trying to hide it either – suggesting Max wasn’t worthy of being a champion, that the 2021 title had been robbed. Once again, his abilities and merits were questioned looking at parameters that didn’t include his outstanding performance and talent. And it hurt you; somehow, it hit close. When he had informed you about the rumors it didn’t seem that bad, or serious, or anything that could be real, to be honest; but everybody referred to it as a grounded certainty, a fact to deal with and, even before an official confrontation with the FIA, all cried scandal. Inside Max’s cold eyes, you read frustration and anger. You couldn’t stand it. So you stood up. «Y/n?» Carlos asked. You left the hospitality without adding a word.

Your feet automatically moved down the paddock with small and quick steps, trying to go as fast as they could. You didn’t cross eye with anybody, because the only person you wanted to see wasn’t walking in the crowd. There was un urge, a deep-rooted need to seek refuge in Max’s arms, unfold your distress and take out his, merge them together and let go of them. With fidgeting hands, you reached for your phone in the jeans’ pocket and called him. You had so many things to tell him; so many useless words to make sure he was doing okay, so many dreamed reassurances you wanted to give and be given back. Although he wasn’t picking up, you marched towards your destination until you finally saw Red Bull’s logo standing out onto the external wall of the hospitality. You were ready to approach the entrance, about to step onto the stairs and run inside, but someone sprung up in front of you warding you off with an arm. «Sorry, you can’t get inside!» This person from the team guided you a couple meters away from the door you desperately wanted to cross. You looked at her closely, and you saw a tag onto her Red Bull shirt. That Alice, uh? Now it makes sense. «What?» you simply asked. «You’re not allowed to get inside our hospitality, I’m sorry.» she quickly repeated, shaking her head. «But I need to talk to-» «Y/n, I’m sorry, but you can’t. I don’t know what Max told you, but we as a team have other problems to deal with at the moment and we don’t want rumors about you two to be on the list as well.» The stern expression she put on made you stand still, speechless, almost uncapable of reacting. «Also, you’re not allowed inside the garage throughout the weekend. As soon as the situation with the media gets better, you’ll be welcomed again, I promise.» «I just wanted to talk to him.» you whispered. She sighed. And she left. After exchanging a few words with people from the stuff – probably making sure they wouldn’t let you in – she disappeared inside the building, and with her all your hopes of relief.

«She can’t get near Max down the track, in the pitlane or here in the paddock, okay? Paparazzi are everywhere and they’re just waiting for those two to slip up again.» Alice spoke to some colleagues in the communication area with a peremptory tone; hearing heavy steps behind her, though, she immediately turned into ice. «Who’s slipping up?» Max asked, quickly taking a sip from his water bottle. Alice deeply inhaled, mastering the courage to confront him. «You and y/n, Max.» she replied, sharp. As your name was brought into the conversation, Max’s focus shifted completely on it. «What happened? Did you see her? Did you talk to her?» Alice, trying not to get intimidated by his pressing questions, kept her tough face on. «She came here to see you and I had to make her leave. There are too many eyes on you, and I’ve already told you this is an extremely delicate moment! Also, Kelly is involved, and we don’t need other troubles…» «But Kelly isn’t involved at all, this is only between me and y/n! And we’re not even together!» Max said, raising his voice in frustration. «Press doesn’t care about the truth, they just know what they can see! And they will try to dig deeper if you give them the opportunity to.» «So what? I can’t see her anymore? She isn’t going to come over to our garage for races?» Max asked, sarcastic. He probably expected Alice to match his sarcasm, but she hesitated, afraid to fuel his rage. Her silence, of course, did the exact opposite. «I told you it’s my decision! If I want to hang out with her, I will! You’re nobody to tell me who I can spend my time with!» «This isn’t meant to be against you, and you know it.» Of course not, he thought. It never is. They treated him like a little puppet for their PR content he didn’t give a shit about and expected him to accept restrictions on the people he could spend time with. His manager, approaching Max to calm him down, put a hand onto his shoulder. «Come on, Max, let’s go-» «What would you do if they asked you to stop hanging out with a dear friend of yours?» he asked Alice, gradually more uncapable of containing anger. «I’d do it, if it’s for the good of the team.» «But this only has to do with me! My friendships don’t involve the team!» «Yes, but YOU are part of the team! Guess what, for most you ARE the team, you represent it, and when they see you, they think of Red Bull!» «And do you think this is fair to me or to anyone else working in the team?» he replied, crossing arms. «Okay, Max.» Alice said, resigned. «Okay. If you don’t like it, you can call Christian and tell him yourself.» With that, Alice simply walked away: she had nothing else to add, since there was no one willing to listen.

Max didn’t waste any time. His steps echoed through the corridors – followed by his manager, who vainly tried to stop him – and constant loud thumps could be heard from quite a distance, causing a few employees to peek the head out of their office to check who was passing by. He didn’t even knock on the door; there wasn’t time for formalities, there wasn’t enough patience to calmly handle the situation. «Can we talk?» #

You sat across each other. You weren’t there. It was hard to explain, but you felt some kind of comfort in being surrounded by silence despite a crowd of people going back and forth as little ants. Despite Sebastian sitting in front of you, sternly staring at you. There was tension; composure, studying of movements, distance. And it magically dissipated, as Sebastian’s sigh erased the wall of unsaid words dividing you. «I’m sorry for treating you badly last time.» you casually said, not daring to cross eyes. A pause. You quietly reasoned which words to use next, although Sebastian prevented it by breaking his iced silence. «You don’t need to apologize. I could see something troubled you, and I’m pretty sure it still does.» He was met with an unmutated expression. «You can talk to me, if you need it. Whatever it is, I’ll try to help you.» Yet another shower of silence. He then insistently searched for your eyes. «You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with all the media pressure. I’ve been there before, and I’ve learned how to deal with it.» «That’s not the problem.» you said, reluctant, diverting gaze. «Okay. Then what is it?» he persisted. Yeah. What was it? The press asking you about your private matters or them hinting at a romance affair which was non-existent, to your dismay? Was it the fact that you wished it was real and actually had to hide something, instead of fighting feelings you desperately tried to conceal and repress in front of anybody, Max and you included? «Or I’d better ask… Who is it?» Sebastian’s words had you like a deer caught in the headlights. «Guess Max is still the deal, right?» he inquired again, leaning his elbows onto the coffee table. «Yeah.» you hummed, mostly to yourself. «Do you like him?» Seb slightly smiled at it. «I don’t know. I mean, I think so, but- It’s probably just me, it’s not worth ruining our relationship.» you rambled. «Who said you are going to ruin the relationship?» Seeing Sebastian put a skeptical face, you swam in your own insecurities: the amount of paranoia you’ve been dealing with in a week made your head hurt, and for a second the clouds darkening your mind got away thanks to Seb’s light of reason. You would reflect upon it in another moment, though: the weekend already seemed difficult even after putting aside your emotions, and you clearly weren’t in a position to gamble. «I can’t afford to lose him.» you then stated, staring at the sky still lost in thought. «Trust me, Max won’t let go of you that easily. He really enjoys your company, you’ve got nothing to fear.» Sebastian smiled. You tried to do the same, but you told yourself you would’ve liked to be as confident as he was.

Max didn’t like losing. Not that hard to figure out, some would say. But it was a trait which he kept also off the track; there was something so confident and assertive in the way he would speak his mind, express his opinion, a sort of determination stemming from dead-certainty and belief. And Max had just conquered a small win, after all. You weren’t allowed to enter the Red Bull garage, but he had managed to convince Christian Horner to let you stay in the hospitality. «But I don’t want her to be here tomorrow and on Sunday, understood?» Christian asked, making sure Max wouldn’t take advantage of it. Max nodded, despite not being fully satisfied yet; after texting you to come over and seeing you enter the hospitality, though, a bright smile immediately spread over his lips, as he immediately searched Alice’s eyes to catch her reaction and enjoy it. She crossed her arms and simply walked away, visibly annoyed. At the same time, Max saw you getting closer with a cheerful appearance: without even thinking twice, his arms were ready to welcome you in a hug. «Thank you.» you murmured as you parted. Looking at you, Max couldn’t restrain a thought: winning had never tasted so sweet. #

«So many corrections, right?» «Yeah… I lost the count of all the times I was about to hit the wall!» Max and Charles having a little debrief after the first sessions of free practice was an established tradition no one ever really complained about. The two of them were walking inside the paddock, heading towards the hospitalities, and the discussion gradually shifted from track conditions to simply catching up with each other. Charles was quick to notice way more cameras than usual were pointing at them; he hadn’t really paid attention to the rumors, so he felt naturally weirded out by the sudden interest. «Is it just me or is everybody following us?» the Monegasque lightly chuckled. «Yeah, seems like it.» Max brushed off. «Did I do something?» Charles asked, utterly oblivious to the situation. «No, they’re here for me, don’t worry.» They stopped a couple meters before Red Bull’s entrance, but before splitting, Max stepped in. «I still haven’t apologized for how I treated you the morning after Zandvoort. So, uhm, I’m sorry.» Charles squinted, thinking hard, then let out a “Ah!” after successfully remembering the situation. «Don’t worry, I noticed there was tension between you and y/n. It’s fine.» As Charles added a smile to the sentence, a laughing filled the air and made the two drivers turn their heads: they saw you getting out of the hospitality playing and laughing with Sergio’s wife and, in particular, with her children. You had spent time with them and watched free practice together, and now that it was time to say goodbye. Exiting the door, you immediately perceived stares on you and couldn’t help but cross them. As you and Max made eye contact, a spontaneous and traitor smile appeared onto your lips, making Charles slightly spying on Max’s expression to observe his reaction. Acknowledging the newly relaxed atmosphere between the two of you, he didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him a little. «Did she already recover?» «Yes, almost fully.» Max answered, as they saw you discretely blow your nose. «She’s doing a lot better.» «And you’re both doing better, I see.» Max was about to look at him and reply, tell him off or something, but he wasn’t able to divert gaze as you gently tousled Sergio’s son’s hair, a fond and amused look in your smiling eyes. Charles’ goodbye reached his ears delayed, and Max got lost staring at you, in awe, his heart twisting in affection.

On Saturday, things didn’t get better. Max had texted you to ask if you’d like to have breakfast with him outside of the paddock before the third session of free practice, so that the team couldn’t have anything to scold him for. You had gladly accepted. You dressed up, combed your hair and pulled the door behind you as you got out; inside the lift, you felt a light comfort since you were about to spend some time with Max again. But no, things weren’t supposed to get better. In fact, as you tried to get out of the hotel, you were stopped by the presence of a bunch of journalists waiting outside the hall glass door. Do they care that much about me?, you wondered. You stood still, hands closed into cold-sweat fists, unable to take a decision. A voice inside of you told you not to pay attention to those jerks and to fiercely make your way past their ignorance; silence would kill their loudness. However, there was a gut feeling you couldn’t ignore, pleading you not to enter the lions’ den, because you simply wouldn’t be able to tolerate it. Paralyzed by fear, you retraced your steps.

Pushed the door, took your shoes off and passed a hand through your hair, breathing deep. There was nothing to freak out about. You got closer to the window and peeked down the street: they were still there. That’s normal, you thought, they were there a few minutes ago. You swallowed. You noticed your mouth had gone dry. Was it dry when you woke up? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing multiple times, you realized it still hurt a little bit. Did it hurt when you woke up? You couldn’t tell. You quickly took your phone out and texted Max. “sorry, I don’t feel good, I’m not coming” Had you just made up an excuse so that you didn’t have to show up? You couldn’t tell. You sent the text, then threw the phone onto the covers in distress. You peeked down the pavement once more: they were still there. Nothing to freak out about. You picked up your phone from the bed once again and did something you had never done, something you shouldn’t have, but that your irrationality reckoned as a good idea. Scrolling social medias to read what they had said about you. To your surprise, you found several debatable Instagram pages which posted stolen shots of you and Max. The most frequent attribute either one of you was given was “traitor”, oftentimes written in full capital letter onto your faces. The real cruelty, though, was stored in the comments section.

No need to freak out.

You run back to the window, your breaths picking up the pace as you noticed they were still there, still fucking waiting for you in order to assault you like a prey. You shut down the blinds, closing off the rising sun’s beams, drowning in the darkness. The phone, which you had let fall back onto the bed again without noticing, vibrated with a muffled sound. “Thought you were doing better…?” Knees gradually gave in under your shaky body, crawling on the floor with your back against the wall. “I thought that too”, you slowly typed. In that moment, your throat tickled and made you cough so hard you hoped to spit out the anguish’s knot in your stomach, emptying your body from the very bottom and finally getting rid of that discomfort. Before you had time to process it, coughs turned into sobs and a few ugly tears hid around your eyes, making your skin sting and burn. #

Sick. «What’s that pout, Max?» You had got better so fast, you’d had no problem for days… How come you were sick again? To be fair, Max easily guessed illness had nothing to do with it. «No, nothing.» Something was up yet another time. He knew you would avoid in any possible way further exposure, minimize the risk of being caught together and troubling the both of you. And this drove him mad. He couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions: he’d always had to fight against prejudices and poor thinkers, sailing the sea throughout major shitstorms, and he had learned how to handle the pressure from a very young age. He was used to it. But you weren’t. And he was aware. Though, he wished you would stop being so conditioned and influenced by other people. «Then put your helmet on, it’s almost time to go.» Lambiase’s voice brought him into the present, awakening the sounds of fervent mechanics bent over the car, the noise which had made him zone out in the first place. #

Vox media. A vox media is a word that has a neutral meaning per se, but can carry both a good and a bad one; it’s like a medal, with its two faces, both brought into the table whenever the term is mentioned. It’s funny how the chances of getting the wrong message it’s almost non-existent… Well, the context usually clarifies it. There are words that can only have good or a bad meaning in a specific situation. And as a driver, in the middle of your last flying lap of the last session, knowing the checkered flag is getting closer and closer and so is the adrenaline for a conquered pole position, taking all the possible risks you can in a street circuit, searching for grip in every single centimeter of asphalt, there’s probably only one thing you don’t want to be told. «Box, Max! Box, box, box!» «Why? What the… why?» A stab amidst the chest. This is what those words felt like for Max, leaving him breathless for a second, as his focus broke and fury took its place. «What the fuck!? What the fuck! What are you guys saying?!» They left him yelling in frustration on his own, keeping silent; but Max needed answers. «I don’t get it, what the fuck is this about?» «I’ll explain once you’re out, Max.»

As Max parked the car for the FIA to check it, his eyes flicked to the side: flashes got his attention, and a group of cameramen run towards Red Bull’s pit wall to picture their failure. And it was in that moment he finally realized how all the pressure the media had kept on the team had pushed the system to crumble like a house of cards, making them get stuff wrong with his car and preventing him from delivering as he was about to do. Did he really wanted to be filled up with crap excuses for their mistake? No. He had obliged to whatever they had instructed him to say in interviews about the cost cap, and they had thought banning you from the paddock would solve their problems. It clearly hadn’t. Max got out of the car and removed his helmet in a hurry: GP tried to hold him back, to no avail. He had already gone past him, not sparing a glance.

Max marched towards the hotel. The sweat clung onto his skin like a suffocating veil, and his frustrated rage certainly didn’t help getting rid of it. He passed the back of his hand on the forehead. He was on the edge. All because of the team fucking up his qualifying, the team who was in everybody’s mouth for the cost cap scandal, the team who had decided to get you away from him for PR reasons. His mind was filled up with racing thoughts, but one thing was extremely clear: he was fed up with all of it. There wasn’t any tolerability left; he would’ve stripped himself naked and run to you undressed, if that would get those paparazzi and “journalists” out of the way. Out of his way, out of yours.

Entering the building, the receptionist didn’t even manage to address him with practiced polite words, since Max simply sped right past him, thinking his racing suit would serve as a sufficient introduction.

He knocked onto your door with such a force you jumped, startled, still sitting in front of the tv in shock for the mishap. When you opened to him, your shock grew even bigger. Max didn’t give you time to react and stormed into the room as soon as there was enough space for him to sneak inside. You turned and followed his restless pacing back and forth, mouth still agape for the surprise. «Max, what happened?» you tried to ask, but the words came out with a shaky voice. «No fuel.» he replied, closing off the blinds to unwanted attention. «I… I’m so sorry… But I’m sure you’ll have the pace tomorrow! And- and there might be a safety car! Anything can happen during the race…» Rummaging through your mind in search of words of comfort, you stared at Max, who was giving you his back. He nervously passed a hand through his hair, as his chest started rising and falling quite fast. Why did he get there? It wasn’t your fault, and neither could you turn back time or change the situation. What was he searching for? What did he expect, what did he want from you? In a fraction of second, Max turned around and he immediately got the answer. You felt your wrist been pulled, while your bodies crashed together onto each other, molding together, melting, clinging. You could hear and feel onto your skin his hot, heavy and shortened breaths, as Max’s face nestled against the crook of your neck. It was so quick you didn’t see it coming; it was so natural you didn’t even try to avoid it. Because it simply felt appropriate and right to let Max loosen the embrace enough to stare at you and then quickly closing the gap, leaning in for a kiss. Hands full of your skin and lips dancing heatedly onto yours, Max understood: this was what he came there for. He hadn’t been able to resist without you, especially after the pressure he had withstood. He had needed you so bad. You couldn’t rewind time and prevent mistakes from happening, of course; but there was a lot you were able to do by simply standing on his side, smiling, encouraging him and checking up on him, things he had terribly missed. He just couldn’t stand the idea of you watching him from a screen, miserable, not even daring to put foot into the paddock in fear of people halting you and asking you inappropriate, nosey questions. And as his hands firmly held your head, perceiving the skin underneath them emanating warmth acted as a foot stomping on full throttle: suddenly, he needed to feel your body even closer, despite your faint attempt to regain breathing space gently pushing on his chest, and his tongue asked for permission to deepen the kiss, slowing down the rhythm only to make it more intense. Max had lost control since jumping out of the car, but he hadn’t realized; and even after running to you with his suit still on, ignoring every person around him, knocking on your door and kissing you out of the blue, then getting all worked up, no, he still hadn’t managed to notice. But your hands, still pressed down onto his chest, eventually splitting you apart… Yes, they were the ones to break the spell. The bitter cold that hit him as your body got away from his hold felt like a slap straight to the cheek. He sobered up, all at once, unable to speak or say anything now aware of his actions. On the other hand, you didn’t even know what had pushed you to move away: in fact, a part of you immediately regretted it. Out of breath, you vainly tried to come up with an explanation, some sort of defense, and quickly acknowledged your guards had completely fallen apart as soon as Max had crossed the threshold. «I didn’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.» Max said, clearing his throat, visibly embarrassed. «No, Max, I…» You what? You didn’t know, you couldn’t state it openly; was it a problem telling him or admitting it to yourself? Was it his unreadable expression making your hands clammy? Or was it him walking away defeated and disappearing as quickly as he had into the room? #

You tossed and turned under the covers, willing yet unable to find peace of mind: Max’s touch still lingered onto you, pervaded your senses and couldn’t brush him off your thoughts. You wished you had stopped him from leaving you in such a confused state; in fact, you wished you hadn’t stopped him at all in the first place. That kiss had felt like heaven: unexpected, unplanned, sudden, so that your heart sank into your chest; urgent and needy, as you were, even after not seeing each other for less than twenty-four hours; casted with tenderness, because it had stemmed from a comforting embrace; burning of desire, incomparably more passionate than whatever you had been able to imagine in your dreams after the party. Had it been another dream? Did you fall and hit your head? You sat straight up and pinched your cheek, scared to be living a lucid, feverish fantasy. It stinged. It was real. You crushed back again onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling and sighing. He had kissed you first. He had run to you, crossed the darkness of the night with his hair still sweaty only to kiss you and walk away. You wanted to torture yourself with how it wasn’t possible for you to love each other, but the only thing you could wonder with a smile written on the heart was whether Max had enjoyed it as much as you did. Above all the pictures journalists could’ve taken, opposed to the previous occasions, you told yourself you would’ve liked having been caught this time. Just to have a proof for your unreasoned happiness.

After unsuccessfully attempting at falling asleep, you had sent a text to Charles, asking him if they could have you inside the garage for the race. There was no way you would manage to lock yourself into the room, staring at the tv and watching Max doing everything he could to win the race and, possibly, the championship as well. Charles, a born gentleman, said yes despite being conscious of the extra spotlight the team would have to face.

You were surprised – and pleased – to see that nobody was waiting for you out of the hotel; strange, you thought, but people had probably got bored and tired of standing, and they decided not to harass you on Sunday. How kind of them.

Sitting with headphones in your hands, you watched the rain fall, mindlessly fidgeting with the wire. «Here you are, the star of the moment!» Charles chirped, taking a seat right next to you. «Y/n, an interview, please!» said Carlos, mocking one of the pleading journalists he had saved you from on Friday. You threw an annoyed glance at both. «I can still leave.» you threatened with a smile. «Oh, but you won’t.» Carlos confidently said, putting a pair of sunglasses on. Charles, amazed, eyed his teammate. «Carlos, you’re such a fashion icon!» «Tell me something I don’t know yet.» the Spaniard boldly replied. «Uhm… It’s raining and you don’t need sunglasses?» you asked, skeptical. Carlos let out a sigh in fake annoyance. «These aren’t for the sun.» he indicated them. «It’s a filter for all the bullshit you’re going to feed us with after we’ve asked you what we want to ask you right now.» He then turned towards Charles, who stared at him trying to telepathically read into Carlos’ head. «What… what was the question?» he whispered, still looking intensely at him. Carlos, flipping his head towards you, bore his eyes – well, definitely his sunglasses – at you with a knowing smirk. «Y/n.» «Yes…?» «I’m not getting in the car if-» «He’s not getting in the car!» Charles repeated after him, impressed. «Yes. I’m not getting in the car unless you tell me what the heck is going down between you and Max Emilian Verstappen.» Silence filled the air, as Carlos nodded in gloating and Charles shook his hand uttering a “Such a good question, mate”. After the little scene, they both turned to you at the same time. «So?» Carlos urged. «I… I don’t know what you want me to say!» you said, embarrassed. «Well, you could start with explaining what you were doing last night in the same room.» «How do you kno-» «Someone from the Ferrari stuff was down the corridor and saw you opening the door to him.» Charles confessed. Still a little bit mad about your privacy being violated, or better, about your vulnerability being exposed, Carlos pressed you even further. «Don’t you trust us? Charles, y/n doesn’t trust us.» he said, sad and offended.

You deeply inhaled, desperately trying to master the courage and tell them so that you could be over with it, but words died before you would even shape them. Charles, noticing how difficult it was for you, had an idea. «Carlos, why don’t we take a guess? And whoever loses, must stay five seconds under the rain?» «And the winner?» «The winner… The winner wins a hot chocolate!» Charles said, his eyes searching for confirm in yours. «Fine.» you breathed out. «Okay, I go first.» Carlos eagerly said, sitting on the edge of the seat. «You… you cuddled onto the bed!» «How sweet!» Charles chuckled. You shook your head, in denial, whispering “No, I’m sorry.” It was Charles’ turn, now; he leaned forward, forearms onto his laps, trying to read your eyes. Uneasy, your pupils flicked right and left in search of relief. «You kissed.» As he spoke those two words, a sudden cloud of warmth burned your limbs, awakening them from their sleep: your heart beat faster, your lips slightly parted in surprise and a pink flush tinted your cheeks. «You kissed!» Carlos yelled, jumping onto the seat, as if everything had become clear. Unable to sustain their astonished expression, you looked down. «It’s not something to be ashamed of.» Charles immediately tried to lift off your embarrassment. «It’s all wrong… I mean, all of this, we shouldn’t-» You stopped talking as you felt a hand touch your shoulder: it was Carlos, this time addressing you with a serious face. «Did you like it?» «Carlos…» «Did you like it, y/n?» «Yes, I did.» you whispered.

Feeling small in your chair, you hid the palms of your hand under your laps, still self-conscious. «I don’t know if he liked it…» «Bet he was the one to go for it.» Charles quickly jumped in. Yes, he had been. And the mere idea confused you even more, made your heart flatter and do somersaults inside your chest. «…But even if he did, we can’t go out or something, with all the hate we’re receiving. The team would never allow it.» «Y/n, listen.» Carlos began, addressing you. «After a qualifying session like the one he had yesterday, no driver would’ve crossed the city to leave a meaningless peck on a friend’s lips. He likes you and you like him, so there’s no need to overcomplicate things because of your fears when it is that simple.» «It scares me.» you whispered, still deep in thought. «I’ve got so much to lose…» Charles softly smiled, then cleared his throat to gain your full attention. «Imagine to be an f1 driver in qualifying: it’s Q3 and you just have one shot to set the pole. There isn’t time to be careful or afraid, you must send it, even if it means you have to take risks.» «Yeah, you gotta send it!» Carlos said, in excitement. «You get nothing for nothing, y/n.» «Guys, I’m not a racing driver.» you laughed. «But you’re going to be together with one of the best out there, so you need to gain some courage!» Charles, not satisfied with the discourage written over your face, tried to persuade you a bit more. «You will probably confront about it pretty soon anyway, and I think you should tell him how you feel. If you don’t, you would both miss out on an amazing relationship.» Uncapable of sustaining the serious atmosphere for so long, Carlos broke the short silence that followed Charles’ words. «Nah, would they really? I don’t think Max deserves it.» Saying so, Carlos took his glasses off and put them back into the pocket. «I’m getting emotional… Our little y/n has grown up so much, Charles…» he turned to him, «She’s about to have a boy now.» «And what a boy, Carlos!» the Monegasque chuckled. The three of you shared a laugh; as you watched them jokingly bicker, you couldn’t help but think you were lucky to have such amazing people to support you, despite them being famous and busy any time of year. Charles, feeling your eyes onto him, stared at you with a brow raised, as you seemed about to say something. «Thank you.» You both smiled at each other. «Oh, don’t thank me, y/n. You owe me a hot chocolate, after all.» Charles said, «And you have to go under the rain, Carlos.» «No, I don’t! It’s not fair!» he protested. «You gotta send it, Carlos!» you told him, Charles laughing uncontrollably at your joke. «You’re lucky I’m a gentleman.» he replied, raising his pointer finger at the two of you.

No one was surprised to find a tensed atmosphere around Red Bull’s staff. People had tried to dig deeper into the cost cap story to see things clearer, pointing at the team and angrily accusing them of cheating “once again”. Max let it all rain down, wash the frustration away from him and erase the grip from the track at once. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t make sense of his escapade; he had overstepped any boundary and completely disregarded any resolution he had set for himself. The “fine line” has been crossed and there was no making up for it. «Like the rain?» Max peeked over his shoulder and saw Daniel approaching. «It’s relaxing.» he then answered. The Aussie nodded and stared intensely at him, then looked out the window as Max did. «Do you remember the morning after the party?» Daniel abruptly asked. «In the kitchen?» «Yes.» «Uhm, yeah, there was Carlos as well.» Max recalled. «Right.» he paused a few seconds before carrying on. «Before you got up, I talked with him a bit and he told me a few things about y/n.» Daniel knew he had perked Max’s interest as he felt a pair of eyes watching attentively, and couldn’t stop a grin. Max, thrown off by his behavior, sighed annoyed. «If you’re joking, this isn’t funny.» «I’m not.» Daniel replied. «Carlos said y/n was freaking out because she’d had some kind of dream about you two but couldn’t tell whether it was some blurred memory or her subconscious messing with her in hangover.» «What was the dream about?» Max found himself whisper. «I don’t remember exactly. But you can ask her.» Daniel, pleased by his reaction, looked at him. «Carlos told me y/n likes you.» Those words sent electricity through his fingertips and awoke his heart, which beat faster: Max felt caught by feelings he couldn’t control nor understand, and they took over him to the point he couldn’t stop himself from releasing them. «Dan, I kissed her.» Max blurted out, confessing. Daniel goggled at him. «At the party?» he asked, surprised. «No, yesterday. After qualifying.» Silence. Max scratched his neck, nervous, itching everywhere, the same electricity travelling onto his skin. «Dan, I don’t know why I did it, and… and I don’t know what to do, because at first she seemed to be okay with it but then she pushed me away! I have no idea what’s going on…» Daniel flicked his eyes to the side before inching closer to him, so that nobody else could hear what he was about to say. «Max, I know you’ve just broken up with Kelly and that it might be too soon to say, but have you, like… considered you could’ve fallen in love with y/n?» The dam of his heart’s lake fell apart and a waterfall of emotions poured down as the rain did outside the window. Needless to say, Max’s awareness of his feelings for you hid under the thick layer of unconscious knowledge, and being exposed to it upset him greatly. «Guys, it’s time to race!» they heard someone say, probably some engineer from Red Bull or McLaren passing by. «It’s showtime.» Daniel said, nudging Max.

You watched the race from the Ferrari garage, once again, and it was even more nerve-wracking than usual, as yellow flags followed one another. Your eyes were vaguely paying attention to the images onto the screen, but your heart was constantly searching for Max’s position, and when a massive lock-up brought him in a run-off area and forced the team to pit, you were caught by an indescribable sadness, since the championship title was inevitably postponed.

Walking down the pitlane, hiding yourself from indiscreet eyes with some of the Ferrari merch Charles had given you as a camouflage, you saw an orange suit waving towards you. «Daniel! Congratulations for p5!» you said, grinning at him. «Oh, thanks.» he replied, a bit absentmindedly. His answer left you a bit dumbfounded: after such a good result for the team – with Lando in p4 – and for himself as well, you expected to see a glimpse of happiness in him. Then you reasoned he had just got out of the car, drenched in sweat and physically worn out. «Are you okay? Do you need some water?» you asked, not able to read his expression, eyes gazing far behind you. In fact, Daniel was tired, but his poor reaction was due to focus: he was searching for someone down the pitlane, and that person was Max. The Dutch had asked him to detain you in the middle of the post-race crowd so that he could confront you and talk to you without leaving the track (as the team had ordered him, after the latest events).

Max had run to the weighing to be one of the first drivers on queue and had jogged back to the garage to drop the helmet; he was so impatient to reach you, despite not being sure of what to tell you exactly. Maybe he simply wanted to see you and have you close. Easily getting rid of his PR assistant – since she was too caught up speaking with Sergios’ – and lowering the cap’s visor in hope of going unnoticed, he fiercely walked with eyes scanning left and right, and when he finally spotted the two of you, every step was lighter, as he felt closer to finally break free and disclose his hidden feelings. «Max!» Or maybe… not yet. «Max, stop!» Alice’s voice halted his wide strides; Max turned around, livid, and he would’ve lashed out at her if only he hadn’t seen the worry covering her face. «Take a look here!» she said, handing him the phone.

What's wrong with this instagram story, you ask? Oh, nothing. Simply sets up half of the drama planned out for next chapter. (I can't believe next chapter could be the last one, don't wake me 'cause I don't wanna leave this dream)

AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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[tonberry-yoda]

Brrrrr

HELI ANON REPORTING TO- duty-?

H i i ii i

I may or may not be addicted to your writing and its on yu 😤

Down to business 👹

Crocman's wife walking into the living room to see what the father son duo is up to bc it was too quiet

She walked in to see a crocodile who fell asleep holding their son who was fully awake while also holding a storybook

W e l l his son was doodling on his father's face like an artist 😌

I like it picasso 💪

And then much later when reader returned with a camera,

Their son was asleep holding uncapped marker pen with some smudges on his face

After reader left them be, when she passed by again

She saw crocodile awake and obliviously drawing on their sons face unaware of the doodles on his own face

So precious 🥺

you can add much more or yes like usual

Enjoy your day officer 💪💪💪💪

hello my dear helicopter anon! you dont understand how excited i get when you request, literally my favorite writings to do ngl. AND BRO THIS IDEA IS SO GOOD! literally my sister and i were just adoring this idea the moment you sent it! thank you so much for making this series my thing on this account and bro, if you have any baby names for croc's son, let me know because i cant think lol. thanks so much!!! <3333

Croc as a father part 5!!!

Pairing - Crocodile x reader

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 649

Notes - (image below not mine) thank you so much again! i seriously love all of your ideas, you are so creative and amazing! i hope you have a super day and enjoy this as much as i do!!! stay hydrated helicopter anon!! <3

And don’t forget REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! So, if you want to request any writing, don’t hesitate to ask. Please read my pinned post before requesting though. Have a good day/night and please stay hydrated!! <333

“Darling,” you began flipping through some mail, finding quite a few letters addressed to your husband. “You have a couple letters in the mail. Did you want me to put them on your-”

You paused as you stepped into the living room to find your husband fast asleep and your son wide awake on his lap. Usually, you would think nothing of this but a wholesome moment. What really made you pause were the drawings on Crocodile’s face that were made by your son. There was a drawing of Mihawk and Buggy, a drawing of you, and a drawing of one of the banana gators. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit. You knew you should be getting onto your son, but you just couldn't help it.

“Mamma!” Your child giggled and put his arms up for a hug.

You walked over trying not to giggle at the picture book open on your husband’s large chest, and hugged your son. “Shush baby,” you whispered, placing a kiss onto his forehead. “Daddy’s sleeping.”

Your son giggled and crawled back onto his father’s chest, handing you the picture book that he didn't need anymore.

“Are you gonna stay with daddy, bubba?” You put the book back in its proper cubby and he nodded, laying on his dad’s chest.

“Mhm. Daddy’s warm when he sleeps.” He sleepily lifted up the marker in his hand and drew a small smiley face on Crocodile’s face. You decided it would be best to leave them be for now so you could get some work done around the house.

It wasn't long before your chores led you to the living room where you found your son now fast asleep on his father. His face was pressed to Crocodile’s big chest while Crocodile softly snored, his son drooling on his bare chest.

---

You looked around the house, satisfied with your work.

Damn you were good.

The house was squeaky clean and there wasn't a child up and running about to mess it up. You definitely deserved a treat after that.

You grabbed yourself the nearest chocolate bar and realized that it had been a while since you checked up on the boys.

You went to step into the living room, but quickly stepped out, peeking back in to find Crocodile giggling to himself and drawing all over his son’s face with the washable marker that your son had used prior to draw on Crocodile’s face.

You giggled and stepped in the room, eating away at your chocolate bar. “Good morning, darling.” You pressed a kiss onto Crocodile’s lips and he chuckled, pointing at the smiley face he drew on his son’s face.

“Morning. I just saw this marker and it seems to be safe on skin, so I thought it would be funny.”

You laughed and sat on the floor next to the couch. “I would hope it's safe for skin. You should see your face, dear.”

Crocodile froze. “What?”

You giggled and ran out of the room to the bathroom where you found a handheld mirror. You ran back to the living room and showed your husband his face and he couldn't help but burst into laughter, startling your son awake in the process.

Your son just giggled and hit Crocodile’s big chest, making a soft boom sound. “Dada! You woke me up!”

“Sorry buddy.” Crocodile placed a small kiss on his son’s forehead. “Let's go wash this marker off, huh?”

“Yeah dada! You look funny.” Your son giggled and Crocodile stood up, helping you off of the floor as well.

“You look funny too, kiddo.”

You showed your son the mirror and he burst out laughing just like his dad. You slicked back his jet black hair. There was no mistaking that that was Crocodile’s son.

The two of them giggled all the way to the bathroom leaving you smiling and satisfied with your day.

[peaceloveandstarrs]

Starring with 29

(anon sent "starrison" in a different message!)

i never knew you could make such sweet sounds. me either.

1966

“Lock the door, Richie, c’mon…” 

George and Ringo hurried into their shared hotel room, high on adrenaline from their last show. The energy had been incredible, full of energy from the fans. Okay, so it had been loud to the point where they couldn’t hear themselves, but still. The energy was palpable. And it was going to be a very late night. And they knew exactly what to do with all of this energy. 

Ringo quickly locked the door behind him. He was excited, yes, but he was also slightly nervous. Usually, George was the one that took charge of things in the bedroom, but tonight, Ringo felt bold. In one quick move, Ringo had George pinned against the wall. George smirked up at him with a wicked, lusty glint in his eyes. 

“Feelin’ bold tonight, eh?” George teased. 

“Mm,” Ringo hummed as he ran his hands down George’s body, resting them teasingly on his lover’s belt. “Can’t help it, watchin’ you on that stage, so fuckin’ sexy, y’know? Been wantin’ to get me hands on ye all night…”

Before George could reply, Ringo had him in a deep, heated kiss. It caught George by surprise, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into it, sliding his tongue into Ringo’s mouth. They stayed like that for a few moments, teeth nipping at lips and tongues gliding over each other in desperation as the tension grew. Ringo groaned into the kiss. He was hot. Far too hot. He pulled away and took off his jacket, haphazardly tossing it into the room, George quickly following suit. 

“Bed,” Ringo said breathlessly, a heated demand. “And get rid of all those clothes…”

George didn’t need to be told twice. Both men hurried to the large bed, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. And he knew that Ringo was in charge tonight. Which was incredibly sexy to him as well. He palmed his half-hard cock through his underwear, pressing up to try and get some friction as Ringo straddled George’s thighs. 

“Mm, did I say you could do that?” Ringo teased, rubbing at his chin. George shook his head. “Didn’t think so… I also said I wanted all of your clothes off, did I not?”

George nodded and looked down. “Can’t finish with you straddlin’ me like that, now can I?” 

Ringo obliged the subtle request, moving aside so George could lift his hips and pull off his underpants. He nearly moaned when he saw George’s cock, thick and nearly fully hard. Part of him wanted to suck George off right there, but he’d waited too long to get his hands on his lover just to give him some head. He wanted more. And with both of them already turned on from adrenaline and lust, there was no need for much foreplay. Normally, Ringo enjoyed foreplay, teasing or being teased until he couldn’t take it anymore, but tonight, he was glad they didn’t need it. 

Ringo opened the nightstand drawer and found the small bottle of lube he’d brought with him, sitting back and uncapping the bottle so he could coat his fingers in the slick substance. He knew he was big and that George didn’t bottom all that often, so he would make sure to prep him thoroughly. 

“Safe word?” Ringo asked.

“Red,” George said. 

“Good boy,” Ringo replied.

He felt his cock twitch when George bit his lip at that response. He knew George had a strong praise kink, so of course, he brought it into play now. Rubbing George’s chest to help him relax, Ringo pressed the tip of his index finger against George’s hole and slowly slid the tip into him. George tensed slightly.

“Shh, love, it’s me, relax…” Ringo breathed as he slowly slid more into him. “That’s it… you’re doing so good, love…”

George moaned as Ringo thrust his finger in and out, moving it side to side to start stretching him. It was a slight sting, but nothing too painful… and then… 

“Fuck!” 

Ringo found George’s prostate, gently massaging the little bundle of nerves and sending jolts of pleasure over George’s body. It felt incredible, making George crave more, more, more… but before he could get too worked up, Ringo began to slide another finger in to join the first one. He gave George a few more moments to adjust before spreading his fingers apart, really opening him up. He scissored them, delighting in each whimper and moan that he got from his lover. He was achingly hard but had just a bit more to go before George was ready.  Or until George deemed himself ready.

“Richie, please, just fuck me,” George begged as he pressed back against Ringo’s fingers, trying to guide them towards his prostate again. 

“Sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure I’m ready, just please…” George whined, gripping the sheets in desperation. “Need you. Need you inside me. Please…”

Ringo chuckled. George knew better than anyone, he supposed. He pulled his fingers out, leaving George whining at the empty feeling. Ringo grabbed the bottle and slicked his cock thoroughly with a deep moan. He wanted to slam into him, but he knew it would take some adjustment on George’s end, no matter how prepared he was. 

Ringo lined up, pressing the head of his cock at George’s hole. He slowly slid into George, hissing softly at the warmth and tightness. No matter how many times they fucked, this would always feel incredible. He gave George a few moments to adjust to the sensation before pulling out almost all the way and slamming into him with a groan. Ringo quickly established a steady rhythm with his thrusts as George wrapped his long legs around Ringo’s waist. 

And George, oh fuck. George was a needy mess beneath Ringo, gasping and moaning with each powerful thrust. And the sounds were oh, so sweet, music to Ringo’s ears. Part of him was amused. Who knew The Quiet Beatle was so noisy in bed? The other, more significant part was aroused, using those noises as encouragement. And he knew just how to get more. 

As he slammed into George, Ringo carefully leaned down and kissed down George’s neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin below the collarbone. And sure enough, George’s moans got even needier, higher-pitched, and breathless as his body began to tense. 

“Fuck, Ringo, fuck, fuck, yes, c’mon, please… more… ‘m so close… please…” 

Ringo shifted his angle some, slamming into his prostate with each powerful thrust. George moaned constantly, desperate to cum… Ringo was close too, but he wanted his love to come first. And how better than to praise him?

“Cum for me…” Ringo whispered, giving George one last nip on his neck. “You’ve done so good, love, c’mon and let go…”

“Fuck, oh, god, fuck, Ringo…!” 

Arching off the bed, George came hard all over his own stomach, a string of incoherent moans and swears escaping from his mouth as he rode out his powerful orgasm. Ringo followed shortly after, quickly pulling out and shooting his own release onto George’s chest, George’s name the only word on his lips. 

Both men rode out their aftershocks, gasping for breath as they collapsed wordlessly onto the bed, unable to speak or move. God. They’d really, really needed that. When he felt like he could walk without falling, Ringo got up and grabbed a rag from the bathroom, soaking it in warm water. He went back to the bed and smiled at the sight. George, completely blissed out, smiling dazedly at him. 

“Hello, handsome,” Ringo said gently as he carefully cleaned their combined releases off of George’s chest. 

“Hello yerself,” George teased. 

Chuckling, Ringo took the rag back to the bathroom and joined George on the bed, softly kissing his cheek as he pulled George into his arms. 

“I never knew you could make such sweet sounds,” Ringo said with a grin.

“Me either.”

“We’ll have to see what other sounds you can make.” 

George gave him a teasing, playful smirk. “Good thing we’ve got all night then…”

Ringo kissed George deeply and lovingly. They did have all night to explore each other, but for now, he was content to hold the man he loved in his arms. He sighed happily. Yeah. This was perfect.

[mintytealfox]

I was in a writing mood today so I started this mess lol the opening from the 'da capo zentradi au' that needs a new name 😂 I didn't edit much so good luck LOL

Some background:

Two species of humanoid now inhabit the same planet. One from another dead planet and seeking refuge and a new place to live (the humans). This was met with hostility from the original habitants (the larger one). A war broke out for 10 years, for the humans to come on top in the end. The larger species are now used as a sort of work horse in most cases. Some manual labor, others protecting the area and hunting, etc. there are still Nobels and high ups in politics but the less well-off tend to be put to difficult work and conditions. Even though the humans have the tech to make it easier, just don’t want to waste resources.  It’s a political way to keep them down, busy and obedient basically. 🙃

Norton, of course, works in the mines.

——

He awoke in a jolt as lights flashed on with what seemed like the blinding power of the sun. In an attempt to shield his eyes, he found that his wrists are bound behind him in the chair he is…tied to? Norton’s senses aren’t returning fast enough to get a decent grasp on what is happening here. Then a muffled sound hits his ears and his left one flicks in intrigue, trying to make out what it is…a voice? Maybe this voice has answers…

“…what’s going on? Where am I?”

A muffled response, he assumes that is what it is. The timing checked out for it to have been someone responding to him. He groans, irritated that his ears can’t make out what’s being said. Bobbing his head down and lightly shaking it, maybe this useless motion will bring back his senses.

The sound of fingers snapping brings him to attention, this being the first thing of clarity. Blinking his eyes, he is finally able to see a blurred individual come into clear view. Norton squints, “who are you…where am I? Why am I bound?”

“It’s me who should be asking questions Mr. Campbell…”

Norton arches a brow; he is only ever referred to this way when he’s in trouble. He looks around the clearing room, finding it blindingly white, every corner of it, with blaring lights above. There’s a window where he can only see himself but feels peering eyes watching him from the other side, then the sound waves from the wretched machine that dampens his enhanced hearing. Norton grits his teeth, the situation becoming more unideal the clearer the picture gets.

The only other individual in the room is seated across the table, studying Norton, patiently waiting for his ‘guest’ to get his bearings. “Judging by your jaw clenching, you’ve realized where you are…”

“Your kind had no right to do this. Take me….forcing me here…”

The individual shakes his head, “don’t be angry with me, I am the one trying to help you.”

Norton scoffs, “help me? Why would a human possibly help me?”

The man in white smiles, “well, I’m not fully human you see.” -he points at the slight point his ears come to-

“Is that supposed to comfort me? Finding out you’re half of two worlds? You’re associated with the people who took me, forced my body into this weak size, and hold me captive!” Norton yanks at his bindings in frustration. In this situation he should be doing all he can to keep his emotions in check, but the constant bombardment of: blinding light, deafening sound waves, and tight painful bindings on his body that was forced to biologically mutate in those stupid machines created to help his kind integrate with humans (make them human sized, the same process can return them to normal), if wished….All of this clashing together to make self-control difficult…purposely so….

The man in white remains silent as he carefully unfolds a loaf of freshly made bread and uncapping a jar of milk. This action alone bringing silence and potential obedience back into the room.

“Mr, Campbell…you can have this and your freedom if you answer some questions for me.”

Norton’s ears flick in curiosity, the scent of the fresh bread calming him, “about what?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten? Maybe you hit your head harder than originally thought…” the words trail off as he adjusts his monocle.

Norton tilts his head, then looks down at the human clothes he is wearing, he grimaces, well now he can’t check to see the state his work clothes were in, could have been a clue, and tries to wrack his brain for any memory of what happened before this. He catches a glimpse of the man across from him and is confused by the expression. This expression of joy?

“This memory loss can work in our favor.”

“Our—?”

“Yes~ Here” he scoots the bread and milk over to Norton’s side and snaps his fingers. Two guards enter and undo the bindings and take their new posts on either side of the suspect.

Norton watches this situation play out with palpable confusion, then lightly flinches as a hand is suddenly extended towards him for a shake.

“Call me, Orpheus. Shake my hand if you agree with this simple term, ‘I help you, you help me’ how does that sound?”

“What would you helping me entail?”

“? That memory loss is doing a number on you~” Orpheus smiles, “I’m getting you out of here and back home”

“Wh—“

“Just shake my hand so we can get on with it”

This has something suspicious written all over it, but honestly, he would do anything to never be in this situation again and this guy seems like someone who could ensure that. “Fine.” and takes his hand in a firm shake.

———

5 years later

Norton is in his small living quarters. Exhaustion dripping from him as he sits in silence after a long day. It’s frustrating how the humans call him and his colleagues in for every little thing. You’d think the species would be more capable since they are the ones who won the war all those years back. He takes a towel and wipes the coal from his face as best he can without water, not having much energy to care about fully cleaning up at the moment.

A chime plays, signifying someone is outside. Dumbfounded, Norton gets up and walks over to press the button to open the sliding metal door, but…no one is there. Looking from side to side he suddenly hears a voice clearing itself from below. His eyes shoot downward and spot the man from 5 years ago.

“You..?”

“My, my, forgotten my name have we. We really should have gotten that head of yours checked more thoroughly.” Orpheus just walks under Norton’s legs and enters the living quarters.

“Sure…just come in then…” slightly annoyed, Norton closes the door and turns to face him.

“Do you at least remember the deal we made?” His voice nonchalant as he cleans his monocle.

“Yes, I recall, Orpheus…”

He smiles, pleased and looks all the way up at his friend returned to his proper height. “Fantastic, how do you feel about getting rid of someone for me?”

Norton’s brows furrow, “‘get rid of’?”

“Yes, I need you to kill someone.”

[mamadarama]

Actually as a Madara yume I feel ashamed to not have picked him as my starter and now I'm left BEGGING for his standard 5* to come home... And I started in the middle of the Spring event so I didn't even have enough for him and Kohaku card... AUGH... Regrets... Sniffles

Idk if he hates me or what though he keeps giving me his solitary bright star card and now he's like at least uncapped 3 times while I had to go all out on Technicolor Flowers. He even dodged me when I selected him as my anniversary feature idol.

Funny thing is that Mitsuru LOVES me. I have more than 5 Mitsuru cards and I'm starting to think I'm Maguro. Or something something yume lore where he purposely avoids me but if I'm turning my gacha pulls into yume lore I'm prolly insane. No one can stop me though.

To this day I only have Technicolor Flowers and Solitary Bright Star as his cards... Sigh

- Madara yume anon 🍀

LOL i got hiiro as my starter but i got madara almost immediately. i think i have him fully uncapped as well . i have a few of his other cards too but not his fs which is ANNOYING. but im more pissed abt not having dead end land mayoi bc ive been trying to get that one for fucjing forever and i STILL HAVENT. my luck is weird i either get exactly what i want in 3-5 pulls or it takes me months and months. i never do more than 5 attempts on a single scout and i only do that if i'm desperate or if it's a card that wont be available ever again, like collab campaign cards :p

[frunbuns]

I finished reading Jedi: Battle Scars not that long ago and some parts of it really got me thinking.

I am nowhere near an expert and my information comes from the Internet, so take what I say with a grain of salt.

However, several times in Battle Scars we see Cal taking on the role of a target so the rest of the crew aren't in danger. This is something Merrin notices and takes great problem with, and it takes Cal a great effort to let this behaviour go for her.

Supposedly some effects of childhood trauma is that you're more likely to participate in dangerous and risky activities, so one could hypothetically tie this to that, as well as the fact that he already has lost 2 caregiver-figures in his life bc they were trying to protect him and is unwilling and/or feels uncapable of going through that trauma again. Even a friend.

There's also the fact that Cal and Cere struggle to see eye-to-eye in the book, something that they argue about. Cal wants to take down the Empire now, while Cere wants to build something for the future. Cal struggles to see how that helps when there might not even be a future for the Jedi. Cere struggles to see how productive it really is to put themselves in danger, but Cal is more than willing to risk his life.

This makes me think about how individuals with childhood trauma may have a hard time planning for the future. Children who grow up under conditions of constant threat are so focused on the now, and surviving right now that planning ahead and anticipating the future becomes hard, if not impossible for them.

Maybe Cal feels that because there is an ongoing threat, he cannot even fathom creating something for something that is so far away, and maybe even impossible in his eyes. It doesn't matter if there'll be no one around to see it anyway.

We also know from jfo that he struggles to trust Cere and Greez at first, and he feels hurt when he finds out Cere hasn't been entirely truthful with him. Cal has lived in a world where he has been unable to trust anyone fully for the past 5 years, so when his trust gets betrayed he reacts harshly, though not all that immaturely. He doesn't particularly want to talk to her, and gives her the cold shoulder for a while, but they both agree to put it aside for 'later'.

As well as having trust issues, a person who has experienced childhood trauma may have trouble expressing and regulating their emotions. They may either have extreme outward reactions, or internalise it. Though I may be stretching this a bit far, it does take some time for Cal to start forgiving her, and even understanding why she may have done it.

It seems to be a fairly agreed upon fact that trauma can alter the very way your brain works, and for children whose brains are still developing, it can lead to problems that last well into their adulthood if left untreated.

I feel like it's fair to say that Cal may be exhibiting some of these symptoms, whether intentionally or not from the writers' side. It can certainly help explain more reasons as to why he thinks, acts and reacts as he does.

It does, of course, not mean that it's everything behind the way he is, but it can act as a part of why. A sort of explanation that could impact him and his life. There's reason to believe that his trauma affects him, but is not necessarily the whole reason why.

Cal was so young when he went throught hat trauma, so of course it's going to impact his life. Going through any kind of trauma can alter your entire life. He's one of few who survived a genocide. He's had to live in hiding, with fear and mistrust. And it's not really over, is it? It's still incredibly dangerous to be force sensitive. The Empire still rages across the galaxy, and it will for longer yet, but at least now he's got friends and support from people he loves, and who love him back.

Do with that what you will, and feel free to add to this if you wish

[icharchivist]

I was expecting them to paint Raziel and her desire to bring Lucifer back as fully bad, as a foil to Magus and to have Sandalphon tell her to let him rest for good, so I was actually surprised when in the end they told her to keep looking for ways to bring him back, just without risking other people's lives. So the hope does live on

But yeah... It's a bit......

I definitely saw people mention the "the set up seems to be that Raziel wants to bring Lucifer back and Sandalphon is going to have to oppose to it no matter what" so i definitely expected that a little..... but in the end the truth is a bit in the middle, at least. The hope to get Lucifer back is still there, even if it just means "but not in this particular instance".

which is nice, i do appreciate that the door is opened for it, and even Magus is offered a possible entry into our lives and all of that.

still...... damn.

Like, it's a great set up!!! it really is!!! i'm glad it exists and it means that, once we actually get Lucifer back, it's great!!

but it just.... I think ever since Created by The Stars, Loved by the Skies, it's the kind of bait we've been having. Look at playable Lucifer! look at how Primals can come back! Look at Cosmos' return from her connection with a primal beast you didn't even know she had a connection with! Look at Lucifer's 6* uncap talking about how he's pulled more and more into our world! look at Sandalphon's new FE talking about how he yearns for him!

..... and then, it's just "and now you wait", again and again.

the day Lucifer comes back, i will look back on it all as nice set up, because narratively, it holds up.

but living through the wait is starting to be agonizing and especially with this amount of bait to prepare it. And god knows how long they will actively pull this trick on us, considering that Sandalphon being the Widower:tm: while also being available for self ship and for others ships possibly is probably also something they have struggle getting out of. Esp with, say, Sandalphon joining Relink probably meaning that they will keep Sandalphon as the Widow who lives to stop the enemy who wants to defy the wishes of his late beloved.

I'd be better off if they didn't really push it this much forward.

and yeah it's like, not bad, as a set up, it's fantastic, when we get there, this will be nice and all.

but as it is right now it's another one of those "nono trust the plan we're getting there" and it gets a bit.....

especially like, if you know me, i originally didn't want Lucifer to come back to life. I thought his death was extremely impactful and it probably was best to leave it at that, in its own way.

It's just that all those set up with the years made me hope for this what if more and more. So this feels a bit painful still.

Sighs.

but the event was fantastic, for real!!! i get it also seeing the full picture that bringing Lucifer back now would have probably disturbed the balance of the event, which is extremely tight and well written and everything that's set up is either properly closed upon, or given an open path to take later. It was a great event, it's really no shade on the event and even the decision to not go through with the Lucifer thing.

it's just that as long as it keeps being the way they talk about Lucifer, it's going to hurt for a while.

Mixed feelings in that sense, i adored the event and i'm glad with what we got. I'm just feeling a little bitter, even though by the end i get it and i'm content. idk how to explain it like, my bitterness does nothing to distract me from how strong this event was and how it made me feel good, yaknow what i mean?

difficult emotions to word out but yeah.. yeah.

[milarqui]

Scarlet Lady: Princess Fragrance

Directory | Guitar Villain

“Bonjour,” Nadja Chamack greeted. “Once again, Scarlet Lady, Chat Noir, and Marigold have saved Paris.”

The screen turned to a map of Paris, with one zone marked in green over blue, and a photograph of a woman with plant-like hair and eyebrows.

“Zoe Rapporte was Akumatized into the Enchanted Florist, threatening to engulf Paris in a treacherous jungle!” the reporter continued, as the image turned to show Paris' heroes under the rain, Scarlet Lady laughing while the other two waved and gave the former a glare. Underneath them ran a message announcing Paris' best therapists. “This makes Mlle. Rapporte's Nth Akuma–”

“Well maybe if people were a little less shi–” the florist suddenly yelled, jumping into image with a rather unfriendly face.

“CUT!”

----

Anyone that knew Chloé Bourgeois would have been surprised to see what she was doing.

She was in a public bathroom. Willingly.

That she was fixing her hair was a lot less surprising.

“Ugh, can you believe I have to work in the rain?” she complained, glaring at her own reflection.

“A-choo!”

Chloé looked into her bag, where laid Tikki, the Kwami of Creation, who did not look healthy.

“Ew, don't sneeze in my bag.”

Not that Chloé cared.

“Chloé, you n-need to take m-me to a doctor,” Tikki begged, but Chloé didn't seem to be up to it.

“What, a kwami doctor?”

“I know a healer,” Tikki said, but Chloé closed the bag.

“Oh, suck it up. I'm not letting you ruin my attendance.”

“Your attendance is already ruined!” the kwami pitifully pointed out. “Doctoooooor!”

----

Rose watched in her phone the news of the day (she shouldn't be, since she was at class, but this was important!), paying special attention to one report.

“Today, Prince Ali, heir to the Kingdom of Achu, will be organizing a toy drive for the Paris Children's Hospital,” the news anchor said, as the image turned to show the young prince at previous engagements.

“He's so beautiful, inside and out!” she said, feeling the tears threatening to drop off her eyes. He was truly a Prince Charming!

“So, like you?”

“Oh, you!”

Juleka had always been a bit shy, but ever since they got together, she had been more open about this. In fact, there were times she was really romantic. Like now.

“You know what?!” she said, pulling out a sheet of paper and uncapping her pen. “I'm going to write him a letter to tell him how much I love and respect him!”

“How you gonna get it to him?”

Alright, she wasn't sure about that. But...

“Love will find a way!”

“Does love do delivery?”

“It delivered you to me.”

Juleka blinked and blushed, but there was a wide smile on her face. She couldn't let her doubt her love for her!

----

For Olga Mendeleiev, teaching was a passion, an attempt to show her students the importance of science in the modern world. She knew that few of them saw it the same way as she did, but she didn't let that prevent her from trying to follow through.

She also knew that she had a fame of tough, but it was necessary: in places like a laboratory, it was essential to pay attention to everything, lest you suffer an accident that could be grave. In her entire career as a teacher, only thrice had a student messed up, and she always made certain that such a mistake was not repeated.

However, there were things she could not handle well. Like students arriving late to class.

“And where have you been, Chloé?”

“Fixing my hair and makeup, duh. This perfection takes time.”

The fact that Damocles bent backwards over this girl was the only reason she wouldn't punish her.

And then the door opened, paving way to the other tardy girl of the day.

“Waghh!” the girl said, almost tripping over her own feet as she ran in.

“Marinette, what's your excuse?”

Going by the girl's face, she braced herself for a terrible excuse.

“I, uh, had to bring my... dog! To the vet! He... ate all of my socks!”

…

If only she could apply her clothing artistry to other fields.

“Maybe if you were early, you could fully bake your excuses, Clumsinette!” Chloé laughed. “And you wouldn't look like a drowned rat!”

“You were also late!” she reminded her. She decided to let them go with just a warning, since she could hardly punish one and let the other free, and they had arrived before she could truly begin her class.

And then she saw something else that she knew she had warned about multiple times.

“Rose, I doubt the room needs to be perfumed,” she said as the blonde sprayed an envelope with perfume. It was a bit of a miracle that they hadn't started the experiment part yet – it could have cause an explosion! As she approached to grab the bottle, she also noticed that the girl was keeping her phone – switched on – under her table. “And using your phone in class? Take your things to the Principal.”

“Aww,” the girl moaned, but she had to be inflexible. Rose knew well enough what the rules in the lab were, and she had skipped all over them.

“I thought someone forgot a rotten fish in their bag, but it's just Rose's perfume!” Chloé, ever the troublemaker, shouted out loud, thinking she was funny.

“You have the exact same perfume in your locker,” Sabrina fired, causing everyone else to laugh while Chloé growled in embarrassment.

Alright, she could admit that it was a little funny. But that had no bearing with what was important right now – which was their class. She called everyone to order and began with her teachings of the day.

----

“Chloé, I don't feel so good,” Tikki moaned, her innards feeling like Plagg was doing his thing inside them.

“Oh, hush” Chloé replied, pushing her into the bag. “Don't you know Prince Ali is waiting at the hotel? I have to get ready!”

“Chloé!” That was Rose, who was clearly walking up to her. “Were you talking about Prince Ali?!”

“Not to you,” Chloé, ever the 'diplomatic', answered.

“Were you talking to your bag then? Cuz you have no friends?”

Ouch, that was kinda insensitive, Tikki thought, even if it was somewhat true.

“NO!”

----

Rose smiled. Poor Chloé, ever since Sabrina broke ties with her, she had been so lonely! But... she couldn't deny her a little favor such as this one, right?

“Could you give him this letter?” she asked, offering the letter she had been writing earlier in class.

“But of course!” Chloé replied, picking the envelope, before her smile turned... evil. “NOT!”

And she ripped her letter apart.

“AH!”

While she knelt to grab the pieces of paper that were all that remained of her work, Chloé got in her car, laughing like the evil witch she was.

“You seriously thought I'd walk around with that smelly fish rag?! Hahahaha!”

----

“Aghh!” Tikki groaned. The sudden movement was not doing her any favors.

“Hey! You better not get sick in my bag! You're ruining this moment for me!”

Love you too, Chloé, she thought sarcastically.

----

Hidden beneath her Queen's hair, Pollen was carefully combing through it to get rid of the knots that a long day at school had produced. She was glad that she could help her Queen in this way!

Then a car passed by, and her Queen's attention was drawn to it.

“Huh?! Wait, is that–?!”

Pollen looked in the same direction – and saw Tikki, lying on the hand of her wielder!

“Tikki?!” her Queen exclaimed. “Pollen, Chloé has Scarlet Lady's kwami!”

“Oh, my!” she said, smiling. Yes, her Queen had realized the truth of who had taken Tikki –

“She probably stole her! Cuz she's a thief and Scarlet is careless!”

“Oh my.”

Oof, so close.

----

He felt optimistic about this Akuma. The power she was granted could easily turn those blasted heroes into mere puppets of his will!

“Princess Fragrance, your perfume will be, from now on, your secret weapon. No one will be able to resist it, no one will oppose you!”

“I mostly just want my prince, to be honest...” the girl replied, “... but we can torment Chloé a little.”

Ah, Chloé Bourgeois. Clearly his best pawn in this world that kept preventing him from reaching his goal.

----

Marigold was a woman on a mission! And she wasn't going to let anyone prevent her from saving Tikki!

“Ahem,” she coughed, calling the attention of the hotel doorman. “Hello, I need to see Chloé Bourgeois! Hero business.”

“I'm afraid I can't let you in, Mlle. Marigold.”

What.

“Huh?!”

“Unless you have an invitation from the Bourgeois or there's an Akuma, you and Chat Noir are banned from the hotel.”

“B-but, why–”

“We're still finding ladybugs, Mlle. Marigold.”

“Ehehe...” she laughed.

C'mon, that was only because Scarlet wouldn't show up!

----

KNOCK KNOCK

“Oh, that'll be Adrien! Coming~” she sang out, putting Tikki back into her bag as she ran to open the door.

“Hey, Chloé,” and there he was, so handsome in his coat and vest and shirt and pants and he was so ready to be her one and done!

“Adrichéri, you're here –!”

And then her mood soured as she saw that chrome dome standing next to her Adrikins, wearing some sort of an ugly robe she wouldn't be caught dead holding in a hand.

“Agh! What are you doing here?!”

“I was invited,” the girl replied, glaring back at her.

“Doesn't she look great, Chlo?” Adrikins asked, unable to understand what he was supposed to be doing (which was getting rid of this girl, of course).

“Thanks, 'Adrichéri',” the girl said in a mocking tone.

“How dare you.”

----

She still wasn't sure why someone had thrown a perfectly serviceable motorcycle helmet and cape, but they (along with the pizza box she had also found in the pile) had allowed him to fool the doorman into thinking she was doing delivery.

She would have to thank Luka later for indirectly giving her the idea to do this.

Take your ban and shove it, Chloé! she thought, giggling to herself.

----

The doorman watched as another person dressed in what was obviously not normal clothes walked up to him.

“Oh, Lord, another one,” he muttered under his breath, before turning to the newcomer. “Mademoiselle, you can't be here–”

“That's no way to talk to a princess!” the stranger said, spraying him with a rather delectable perfume that assaulted all of his senses.

“Agh!”

Then, he realized he had had it all wrong! How could he have so horribly treated Princess Fragrance! He bowed to her and bid her enter the hotel.

“At your service, Princess Fragrance,” he said.

“I'm coming, my Prince,” Princess Fragrance sang out, before she turned. “Where's Prince Ali?”

“Restaurant floor, Princess Fragrance,” he informed her. She would soon meet her beloved Prince, and that could only make him happy.

----

This was Ali, Prince of Achu's, first visit to the city of Paris, which he had heard much about. But this was not a tourist's visit – it was meant to be about visiting the local children's hospitals, ensure the money was correctly invested in ensuring their health and, most imporantly, speak with the children and see for himself they were getting better.

But, still, as he was the representative to his country, there were unavoidable moments, such as meeting the local authorities. In this case, he would meet the mayor and the children of some of the city's biggest names.

Like the blonde girl standing in front of him – if his notes were right, she was the mayor's daughter – who was now holding a figurine of a girl that resembled her, but dressed in a red-with-black-dots costume and a domino mask over her eyes.

“Prince Ali, I brought you this beautiful, unique Scarlet Lady figure – for the children,” she said, offering him the figurine.

“Oh!”

He wasn't sure of what the children would do with the figurine, but it certainly wasn't safe for them.

----

He couldn't know that Chloé had just grabbed the figurine she liked the least off her shelf-slash-altar.

----

Then approached a boy with blond curls, holding a plushie of a boy that resembled him, but with wilder hair, a black domino mask and clad in black from neck to toes.

“I commissioned a friend for a few Chat Noir plushies,” he said. “The rest have been delivered.”

He picked it up, and smiled both at the detail and how good it felt to his hands. He knew the children would love this and the others.

“Oh, soft!”

----

He couldn't know that Adrien had asked his crush and number one fan to craft them. Or how handsomely he had paid for them.

Or how Marinette had worked on it as her 'compensating' Adrien for the Pixelator incident.

----

The last teen in the room was a Japanese young lady, dressed in traditional garb, greeting him with a bow that he returned.

“The Tsurugi's have delivered a truck of Marigold merch in your name,” she declared in (very) slightly accented French.

“That's so nice of you!” he declared. He and his companions would have to check and make sure the merchandise was child-safe, but he was certain the children would also love to play with them.

----

He couldn't know that Kagami's decision had been prompted by what some would call a 'girl-crush' she had on Paris' true heroine.

----

“And who are these characters?” Ali asked, confused. He knew he was not up on current cultural events, but maybe they could tell him? Perhaps it could be something to bond with children in the future?

----

He couldn't know...

... he was about to learn the truth.

----

Marinette ducked behind a short table as she saw the small group passing by, with Chloé between her father and the foreign prince Rose had mentioned in class – holding one of the Chat Noir plushies she had crafted at Adrien's request.

But her current target was elsewhere.

“Oh, there!” Pollen pointed out, signaling with her tiny arm at Chloé's bag, where Tikki could be seen hanging from.

“Pollen, she doesn't look so good,” she muttered, her heart hurting at the look. She had to find a way to get Tikki out of Chloé's hands!

Then the elevator's doors opened, and in came –

An Akuma?! One that resembled ROSE! What is she –!

The Rose Akuma aimed with what looked like a gun and pulled the trigger, but instead of a bullet it fired a cloud of green smoke that washed all over Chloé.

Everyone around her quickly covered their noses.

“Prince Ali, what – is that awful smell?” someone from the prince's entourage asked, her face almost as green as the cloud that now seemed to hang around Chloé.

“C-Chloé, you smell like rotten fish!” Adrien declared, trying to step away from her.

“What?! It's not me!” Chloé screamed, before she began to smell around.

It was definite.

This might be my favorite Akuma, she thought, giggling again as Chloé realized the true source of the smell.

“Oh no, it is me! Waaah!” the girl cried out.

“W-Who are you?!” the prince asked, clearly shocked. Didn't he know about Akumas?

“I'm Princess Fragrance, I came just for you!” Rose – or, rather, Princess Fragrance – declared. “One little PSHH, and you'll be my Prince Ali!”

Alright, pranking Chloé was one thing, but control someone was another – and she wasn't about to let the Akuma win.

She grabbed the pizza box and threw it at the biggest flower bouquet in the room.

“Not on my watch!” she shouted, as the flowers almost exploded from the impact, filling the room with flower petals – which fell around the Akuma.

“Wha– hey!”

“Now's our chance! Run!” the Mayor stated, ushering his guests away.

----

Adrien dodged out of the way of the rest of the group, ducking into a side hallway as Plagg came out of his pocked.

“Now's our chance! Plagg! Claws Out!”

----

With everyone escaping from the Akuma, and the latter distracted, it was her chance.

“Pollen, Buzz On!”

“Uh, wait, the helmet–” Pollen tried to say, but the magical transformation absorbed her before she could finish her warning.

Oops.

----

The Mayor slammed the door behind him, his back forcing it closed.

“We're safe, the door is reinforced,” he declared, but that was little comfort for everyone else, who were trying to hold their breath and avoid smelling the stench coming from Chloé.

“Disastrous!” Prince Ali's aide said. “How does anyone keep to a schedule like this?!”

Chloé looked around, and realized someone was missing.

“Hey... where's Adrien?!”

Kagami, covering nose and mouth with her sleeve, chose to answer.

“He must've been caught like the news crew.”

----

When Chat Noir returned to the place where he had split off from the group, he realized it was emptier than it should have been.

“Where is everyone?!”

----

The Mayor's claims that the group was safe were quickly put to test, as Princess Fragrance approached the door.

“Mon Prince~!” she sang out. “Breathe the perfume of our eternal love!”

And she fired her gun, which now shot a cloud of a dark pink that threatened to slip into the safe room.

“Not so fast!”

But a vacuum cleaner was turned on – and the pink cloud got sucked into the latter, preventing it from reaching the other group.

“Hey! How dare you... Marigold?” the Akuma reacted, seeing the heroine entering the scene by wielding the cleaner...

“Marigold is here! With... a helmet?” the Mayor said, surprised at the mysterious change.

“Make a break for it!” Kagami said, pulling from Ali's free hand.

“Wait, she's real?!” the Prince shouted, shocked.

Hasn't he been seeing news on Paris? Kagami thought.

----

Unfortunately for her, the vacuum cleaner had only worked as a temporary measure, as Princess Fragrance had simply amped up how much perfume she could fire. She was getting cornered.

But she found the means to escape. It was going to be tight, but she could fit in.

“You won't escape my perfume!” she heard Princess Fragrance sing.

I already have, she thought, and closed the dumbwaiter's door to go down to the kitchen. That was her way out.

----

Chat Noir finally found the rest of the group, diminished in number, as they reached another part of the restaurant.

“Chat Noir!” Alright, Kagami would act as a voice of reason.

“There you are! Where's the Akuma?” he asked, but the answer quickly came from another source.

“Behind us, close the door!” Chloé shouted at one of the hotel's workers, pointing at one door. “Daddy's been bewitched!”

But it was too late. Princess Fragrance walked through the door, still spreading her perfume around.

“Come into my arms, mon cher Prince~”

“No means no!” Chat Noir shouted, enlarging his baton and forcing the Akuma out of the room.

“OOF!” the Akuma complained. Chat Noir quickly turned it around and pushed out of the window, enlarging it until it touched ground.

“All aboard the Escape Express!” he declared, ever the showman.

----

Fortunately, lowering everyone who was still free of the Akuma's influence was easier than expected, and soon enough they had reached the Prince's car.

“Let's go–” Chloé said, but Kagami interposed her bokken.

“Stop,” the Japanese girl stated.

“Huh?! Where were you hiding that?!” Chloé asked, surprised.

“She's not after you and you'll stink up the car,” Kagami replied, ignoring the question.

“Let me in! Who do you think you are?!” Chloé yelled, and in her agitation, she made a mistake.

She forgot Tikki was in her bag.

And when she shook the bag, Tikki flew out of it.

“Go hide in a bush,” Kagami ordered, not caring for the other girl, as everyone else got into the car.

“Chloé,” Chat Noir said as the doors closed. “Wait for Marigold. Or your BFF, Scarlet Lady.”

“GRR!” Chloé growled.

“HOW DARE YOOOOU!” both Chloé and Princess Fragrance yelled out in unison.

----

Chloé's irritation with the world increased as she saw the Akuma fly off the restaurant's terrace in pursuit of the fleeing car.

“How dare that Akuma prove Tsurugi right by ignoring me?!” Chloé complained. “Tikki, time to give her a piece of my–”

But when she looked down into her bag, she realized the kwami was missing.

“Tikki?” She began to look around. “Where'd she slink off to?!”

She thought over what had happened, when she saw someone else showing up.

“Oh, no, where'd they go now?”

“Marigold!” she shouted, approaching the heroinesidekick.

“Chloé?!” Marigold waved her off, putting a disgusted face. “You stink!”

Chloé ignored that.

“After that car! Tsurugi stole my, um, important bug plushie!”

“Oh, I bet she did,” Marigold replied, before taking off after the car.

----

At the car, its four occupants remained on edge. Chat Noir and Kagami were more than conscious about the danger the Akuma still represented, while the Prince and his attendant, Soraya Khan, remained in shock about the sudden turn of events, of something that they had never heard about.

“Ugh, I can still smell it,” Mlle. Khan complained, as Chloé had been close enough to the rest that the rotten fish stink had permeated through their clothes and into the car. “I'll open the moonroof a little.”

“Ah, wait–!” Chat Noir warned, but the woman still did it.

“Don't be a fool, do you want the Akuma to gas the whole car?” Kagami stated, hitting Soraya's hand with her bokken.

“OW! What?! Surely we've gotten enough distance–”

“What a great idea, future servant~!” Princess Fragrance suddenly said, from the top of the car.

“NO!” Chat Noir yelled, but it was too late, as the car's interior got flooded with the pink mist.

“I'll take you to the Pont des Arts to seal our love!”

----

Out of sight of all the humans, a tiny kwami laid on the floor of the car, unable to act. Brought low by her sickness, she could only beg for her holder.

“C-Chloé...”

----

By the time she was able to track down the car, it had crashed into a pile of (now empty, fortunately) cars and buses. She knew it was a bad sign, that the Akuma had captured the ones riding there. Right now, though, she couldn't do much – save for helping the reason she had been running around.

“Oh no, Tikki!” Running up to the car, she finally got rid of her helmet (it would be restored to normality as soon as the Cure was cast) and checked into the car.

When she saw the tiny kwami, laying on the floor, in clear pain and distress, broke her heart.

“Tikki! Oh, you poor thing, you're worse than I thought!”

“M-Marigold?” Tikki weakly said as she picked her up. “I-I need to get back to Scarlet Lady, to transfor–”

“Absolutely not!” she interrupted. “I'm taking you to Master Fu first, no ifs, ands, or buts!”

“B-But–” Tikki tried to say, but Marigold was resolute.

“No buts!”

----

Finding her way to Master Fu's home was not easy, but with Pollen's help she was able to remember the path, and soon enough the venerable man was using his magic on the sick kwami.

“How did you find her like this?” the man asked.

“My classmate had her,” Marinette said. “Knowing Chloé, she probably stole her.”

Tikki let out a groan of what sounded like pain, but Fu smiled and retired his hands.

“She should be all better now.”

Tikki sat up and smiled. Her countenance had completely changed now, and it was obvious she was hale and hearty.

“Oh, thank you! I feel so much better! I'll go right back to Scarlet Lady now!”

“Tikki!” Pollen exclaimed. “Goodbye hug!”

“Huh?”

“My Queen gives the best hugs!”

“I-If it's okay...” Tikki replied, feeling insecure, but then Marinette smiled and opened her arms.

“Of course!”

And Tikki jumped to hug the one that should have been her wielder.

And if there were tears in her eyes, no one said anything.

Then Tikki opened her eyes and noticed Pollen giving her a face.

“Tikki, just to be clear, you're the only one I'm willing to lend my Queen to,” she whispered. “Tell the others she's off limits: especially Mullo.”

Wow, Mullo had to have done something bad to bring this side of Pollen.

----

“This padlock will seal our love for eternity, Mon Prince!” Princess Fragrance said as she spread her perfume over the object the ensorcelled Chat Noir was presenting her.

“At your service, Princess Fragrance!” Prince Ali replied, not realizing the danger due to the Akuma's power.

Suddenly, a top flew and struck the heart-shaped padlock Princess Fragrance had created, forcing it out of Chat Noir's hands and causing it to drop into the waters of the Seine.

“Rose, did you forget you have a girlfriend?”

“Marigold!” the incensed Akuma shouted as the top returned to the heroine's hand. “I have two hands, busy body! Servants, attack!”

As the people the Akuma was controlling ran over to her, Marigold just rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, I'm more afraid of Kagami than Chat Noir.”

----

Tikki quickly tracked down Chloé by the Earrings, and found her sitting down by the hotel, moody and arms crossed.

“Chloé!” she called out, and the girl looked up at her.

“Tikki! Where've you been?”

“The doctor. Like I told you earlier.”

“Don't you know I was stuck on the sidelines like some civilian?! Ridiculous, utterly–”

“Chloé–” she said, interrupting the girl's favorite sentence before she could get more absurd, but that was interrupted when Chloé looked up.

“Ah, there she is again!” the girl exclaimed, and she turned around to see the Akuma flying with the young boy from earlier holding onto her. “Tikki, Spots On!”

“Agh!”

Now, she could only hope Chloé would actually be able to do her part.

----

Hawkmoth was feeling impatient. The girl had managed to put Chat Noir under her control, but for some reason, instead of doing the obvious thing and taking the Ring, she was instead focused on forcing some boy to love her. He opened the connection to her and got ready to berate her.

“I'll enchant all of Paris and make it our kingdom!” Princess Fragrance declared, much to his shock.

“Wait, not me though, right?” he said before he could contain himself.

“ALL OF PARIS!”

…

I might have miscalculated this time.

He was now confronted with a Morton's fork. If he didn't reclaim the power, this Akuma might well manage to put him under her control, and he'd be unable to escape. But, if he did reclaim the Akuma, he'd lose the chance to get a half of what he needed to make the Wish! This was the closest he had been to his goal!

But then the Akuma's concentration was broken.

----

“I don't think so, Stink Bomb!” Scarlet shouted, throwing her yo-yo and hitting Princess Fragrance's gun before she could fire her perfume.

“Ah! Scarlet Lady!” Princess Fragrance turned to glare at Scarlet, only to see Marigold landing right next to her. “And you again?! What happened to my servants?!”

Marigold ignored the question.

----

At the banks of the Seine, Chat Noir had recovered his senses, and was now guarding the stunned people that had been controlled by the Akuma, tied up with his belt.

----

Scarlet called up the Lucky Charm, and as soon as it showed up Marigold grabbed it, an angry face over her features.

“I'll be taking that Lucky Charm!”

“Hey!” Scarlet yelled.

Nobody cared.

The one who cared was Princess Fragrance, but what she cared about was how the Lucky Charm – a balloon – got thrown into her gun just as she tried to put the heroines under control.

“Wha– NO!” the Akuma shouted as the balloon caused the gun to backfire and break down.

“VENOM!” Marigold shouted, jumping at Princess Fragrance, who had suddenly found herself defenseless.

“Wai–!”

Too late. The tip of the spinning top pierced her, and the Akuma was paralyzed, allowing Marigold to grab the perfume gun and smash it against the floor.

“Well, that was easy!” Scarlet said, immune to the glare the ticked-off Marigold threw at her.

“Easy for you, maybe.”

----

Prince Alí came about somewhere in the streets of Paris. Not only he didn't know where he was, he didn't know how he had actually arrived here. The last thing he could remember was that... Akuma? Throwing some perfume into the car he was riding, and after that it was a blank.

And then there was the girl next to him. He felt a bit uncomfortable about how she was holding his arm, but... he couldn't deny there was something genuine about her, unlike other girls he had met before.

“Prince Ali!” the girl said, smiling and blushing as she stood there.

“Where am I?” he asked, before turning to the two... heroes that had apparently saved him. “Who are they?”

The one in red and black – the one that resembled Mlle. Bourgeois – stepped up, while a loud beeping came from something around her. Had she left some alert that she was ignoring?

“Why, I am the famous hero of Paris, Scarlet–”

“Lady of Timers!” the other one, the one that resembled a bee, interrupted, pulling from the red one's ear.

“OW!” the latter said, but clearly the bee girl didn't care about her pain.

“Time to go, my Queen of Irresponsibility.”

The bee girl kept pulling from the other one, until they were at the top of the Sacre Coeur and...

“See you later!” she said, waving with one hand as she just shoved off her partner down the other side of the dome with the other.

“Are your heroes usually this... eccentric?” he asked the girl, who was similarly shocked.

“Um...”

Deciding to learn more of the situation and this young lady, he decided to talk with her, because maybe she'd be able to throw some light.

Rose – the girl – explained what Akumas were and how the heroes – Scarlet Lady, Chat Noir, and Marigold – fought the Akumas in order to prevent them from stealing some sort of object on behalf of Paris' villain. As for Rose herself, she had been Akumatized, and apologized profusely for what she had done, but he forgave her: if what she had said was true, everything she had done was not something she would have done if she wasn't under control of this Hawkmoth, so he couldn't blame her.

And then she had come down to explain why she had been Akumatized.

“I know you help the sick children of the world. I just wanted to tell you that you're the nicest person I've ever met!” Rose said, her face blushing from cheek to cheek, and he also felt his face redden. He had been told similar things many times... but never by someone so honest and sincere as Rose.

“Really?” he asked, but before Rose could answer someone else interrupted.

“Prince Ali!” Mlle. Bourgeois shouted as she ran up to them

Rose turned to look at Mlle. Bourgeois, but it didn't seem to be friendly at all.

“Chloé?”

Ah, so they knew each other?

“You're safe! Aren't you glad I'm safe too? Let's continue where we left off! And ditch Rose.”

The words had come out of her mouth like bullets from a machinegun, but still he understood them easily. He understood what the girl intended to do.

And put a stop to it.

“No thank you, I'll be going to the Children's Hospital with Mlle. Rose.”

“Whu–?! Uh, but–” Mlle. Bourgeois babbled, before she appeared to settle on an argument. “She has a girlfriend!”

Hm? Well, if Rose had someone she called a girlfriend, then she had to be a wonderful lady as well!

“Oh, I'd love to meet her!” he told Rose, smiling, and she smiled back at him.

“She'd love to meet you!”

“Arhh!” Mlle. Bourgeois yelled. Clearly, she had not expected this outcome.

----

Soraya Khan, Prince Ali's personal attendant, had been on a quest to track down her charge after waking up drenched and tied with other people by a belt next to the Seine. After the young hero untied them and explained something of what had happened, she had thanked him and then started to look for Ali, knowing that she was risking some severe punishment if the Prince of Achu suffered any damage while under his watch.

Fortunately, a lucky find had pointed her at the Children's Hospital the Prince had meant to visit, and she quickly rushed over, finding him playing with one of the cancer-struck children that were tended to there, as well as another girl of Prince Ali's age holding the child.

“Prince Ali! There you are!”

“Ah, you found me,” the Prince replied. Soraya felt slightly apprehensive: did the Prince not understand how important his security was?

“I've been looking all over Paris for you!” she pointed out, as the Prince and the blond girl stood up – holding hands.

What.

“Who is this?” she asked, surprised that her charge was holding hands with this unknown girl.

“This is my girlfriend, Rose.”

She felt her jaw dropping. At fifteen, the Prince had never shown any interest in other ladies, not even the ones presented to him by her family. And suddenly, a girl he had known for less than a day, he was willing to call her 'girlfriend'?

“And this is her girlfriend, Juleka!” he continued, pointing at the girl holding the other hand of the first girl, a contrast because, where this Rose was blonde and wearing colorful clothing and was just sunny, the second wore black all over her body and looked like she was used to look gloomy.

But here, the girl was smiling, and even waved at her.

“Hey.”

She felt a current of cold sweat down her back. Explaining this to the family was not going to be pretty...

----

As soon as he was certain he'd be able to get away, Adrien had transformed into Chat Noir and jumped his way across Paris.

He had received a message from Marigold.

Meet me at the usual point, 23:30.

And he might be mistaken, but she had sounded like she was on edge for some reason.

He hoped she wasn't angry with him.

When he landed, he found her with her back turned to him, and he decided he needed to avoid being the target of her anger any more.

“Hey Goldie, I got your message. Everything okay? You sounded a bit off.”

When she didn't react to this, he decided it was time to admit his mistake.

“Is this about the Akuma? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get hit–”

“Chat Noir.” Wow, she sounded serious. And when she turned around, he realized she was really serious. “We need to talk about taking the Earrings from Scarlet Lady.”

He felt like his jaw was dropping. They had both thought about it once or twice... but this time, it was clear that Marigold really meant it.

It felt like nothing would be the same any more.

----

Despair Bear

@zoe-oneesama Here endeth Season 3. Season 4 will begin as soon as I can get the inspiration in the middle of this heat. Dealing with high 30s ain't fun.

[author-a-holmes]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Thank you @wordsacrossemptypages for the tag!

I'm not going to be able to share Darkling content for this one, I don't think. I think seven snippets from a sequel might be more than I'm willing to put down right now.

But I can share seven snippets from Changeling instead.

Taggin forward, with no pressure, to; @afoolandathief, @oh-no-another-idea, @sleepyowlwrites, @sunset-a-story, @ashen-crest, @fictionalbullshitter, and @mr-writes <3

One.

"What, in the realm, are you doing?" Booker asked her on a heavy exhale, his sleep-coated voice rumbling quietly as he ran a weary hand through the tufts of bed-mussed blonde hair in a vain attempt at smoothing them into place.

"Nothing," Lizzy answered, wincing. It was too short, and too sharp, and she hoped he was still drowsy enough to miss her tells.

Her hope sank when Booker paused in his grooming to blink at her owlishly. It took a couple of seconds before her abrupt answer seemed to register, but when it did his frown deepened into an outright scowl.

"Lizzy, you're fully dressed in the middle of the night, with a bag packed, and the best you can come up with is 'nothing'?"

Two.

... he let himself concentrate on the conversation the two troublemakers at his back were trying to keep quiet.

The pair were doing a good job; they were staying several paces back and speaking in hushed tones. If he were human, or fey, he doubted he'd have noticed their murmured argument at all.

Unfortunately for them both, being a vampire gave him a distinct advantage.

"It's not my fault he's acting like a—"

"Please," Mr Reed breathed, pleading, and cutting off his companion's scathing comment. With Andric's back to them, he didn't bother smothering the amused grin that spread across his face.

Three.

"I just... I couldn't stand being in that house."

"I can't imagine how difficult—"

"No," Andric agreed, cutting Hilda off, his voice quiet, "you can't. Dad's near catatonic with grief, and when he's not he's destroying the house, or picking physical fights with anyone who can punch back harder than him. Mum's splitting her time between crying, and blaming me for—"

"Your brother's situation is not your fault, Andric," Thomas growled. The sound was primal, predatory, and it reminded Andric how much older Walcott was than the average vampire. Slowly, the breath that had caught in his throat released into a sigh and he shrugged.

Four.

"Why?" he asked, and Nameer shrugged one shoulder.

"Rumour is, he's on the warpath. Does it matter why?" he asked, sighing before uncapping their prescribed daily dose of animal blood and stirring it into his mashed potatoes, giving Andric the perfect excuse to grimace in disgust.

"We all know he's a prideful little shit," Nameer continued. "Just figured you might want to be on hand, in case someone needs to have their back."

"Yeah, thanks," Andric murmured, glancing away from the ruined mash and blood, and letting his eyes skip across the hall...

Five.

"You... you believe me?" Lizzy asked, blinking in shock.

"You've no reason to lie."

"Well, no. I don't, but— but everyone else—. Even with Cara's help, I—"

"I am not in the habit of deluding myself, just because the reality is something I don't wish to contemplate," Gladstone said, lowering her cup to the desk.

Six.

Even as the words spilt over his tongue and across his lips, Andric knew his tone was too hard, too harsh, and her shell-shocked expression only reinforced that.

Booker was glaring at him, and Andric sighed, "Lizzy—"

"Don't," she hissed. "I don't want to hear it."

She spun on her heel and stalked over to the door, yanking it open and disappearing into the hall before Andric was able to shake himself out of his shock.

Seven.

It was the growing silence that made him grind to a halt, Lizzy almost stumbling into him at his abrupt stillness. He could feel the weight of her gaze on his face and swiped his thumb across her hand again, but he couldn't spare her any additional reassurance, before tilting his head to listen to the forest.

His brow furrowed, as he strained his hearing to its limits, but there was nothing.

Not a bird ruffling its feathers, not a mosquito whining in the distance. Perfect stillness, and Andric felt nausea begin gathering in the pit of his stomach.