#actually wanted to shade this but I think if I work on it anymore I’ll end up scrapping it lol

[swordmaid]

bhaal’s bride 🔪🩸

my durge yves before the lobotomy 🥳

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, it was a big piece of work, hah

I took a break from RW and decided to draw something nostalgic

Actually I've been stuck with this idea for two years now and I'm glad I finally found the strength to do something about it. Thanks for inspiration from one good man)

Long story short

In this AU autobots and deceptions are two unions of different tribes: mudwings, seawings and sandwings for the firsts and icewings, nightwings, rainwings and Pantala tribes for seconds. Skywings doesn’t exist anymore (because we need someone who takes place of predacons).

People are just people or scavenger if you prefer. And instead of whole cosmos it’s just two mainlands.

- Optimus Prime - I kinda like tfp Optimus. So formidable, powerful and mysterious but really gentle at the same time. And mud/sea combo works here in the best way. As the representation of two main tribes union and strong father/brother figure for team members.

I also think he might be an animus (but don’t use his magic often, especially for killing someone)

- Ultra Magnus - Pure Icewing already will be great for him, but I gave him part of seawing so he could be more like an Optimus. But instead of being softer and warmer, Magnus is more cold and pragmatic version of him. A character who sees other dragons not as close allies and friends but as ordinary soldiers.

- Ratchet - Yeah, the seawing would fit him better, but i just don’t know how to make the colors work here sooo… he’s a weak-fire mudwing. Like a skywing, but mudwing. Why not. Make sense with his lack of guns in origin. I think he’s design can be better, and maybe I’ll remake it.

I love his arc of recognizing people as equals and especially his interactions with Raphael. I think Ratchet often read him scrolls about history and magical artifacts.

- Bulkhead - No surprises here - mudwing fit him perfectly. I think that the Wreckers could been a big and strong mudwing troops, and Bulkhead was a bigwings in such a one. He is lost a lot of his siblings during the war, and therefore tries with all his might to protect the new members of his family. I absolutely adore his relationship with Miko and Jackie, so for me he’s one of the cutest character, and I tried to make his forms round and soft.

- Bumblebee - I know that majority draw him as a hivewing, but in that case the most logical for him will be a night/sandwing. Literally, autobots get their own Sunny)

I think in this version with his lack of a voice he could communicate using sign language or some variation of aquatic.

- Arcee - Also nothing special - she is a seawing. I originally wanted to give her a helmet but it was too hard to draw. Just like Sunny she was born pretty small and now even younger dragons can be bigger than her. I’m pretty sure she is old enough to have seen Bumblebee when he was a dragonet, so she's literally like an older sister to him.

Actually she really gives me a Queen Glory vibes with her sarcasm and dangerous beauty, so rainwing might fit her as well.

- Smokescreen - I used to think he was just a cringe, but now I realize he's a pretty interesting and realistic character. Like Ultra Magnus, I wanted to make him look like Optimus, only this time Smoke is more of a younger and much more irresponsible version of him. I think in this version (being part rainwing) he's trying to mimic Optimus's coloring using same red, blue and pale-gray shades.

- Wheeljack - The scruffy boy! I think in this version he could be Bulkhead's "adopted sibling", so they are really close to each other. And, because he spent most of his life with Bulkhead, it's harder for him to get close to other tribes and dragons.

Painting scales to keep canonical colors is kinda cheating, but for this dude it totally works. He should have a pretty bright appearance with all those scars and bright spots.

Cliffjumper - Ohoh… this poor guy. I didn't even think of putting him here, but I like his smug face too much. Even making his scales darker than the original, it's still too brightly colored for mudwing. He probably jokes about it a lot, saying that his ancestors were skywings.

I really like his dynamic with Arcee, and it's a shame we haven't seen much of their relationship. I think I need to do something cute about that.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

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

author's note: that's it folks. welcome to the end. peace out (my hand is hurting like a bitch) NOT EDITED NOT BETA READ EXCUSE THE MISTAKES

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

max: ANSWER ME

max: [NAME] I SWEAR TO GOD

max: I’LL FLY TO TEXAS RIGHT NOW I SWEAR

max: THIS IS ALL FUN AND GAMES FOR YOU ISNT IT

max: YOU FUCK ME AND THEN YOU LEAVE

max: YOU'RE ALL FUCKING THE SAME ALWAYS LEAVING ME

max: FUCK YOU [NAME]

max: TALK TO ME YOU COWARD

max: EXPLAIN YOURSELF

max: IM GOING INSANE HERE

Max has visited your apartment a total of two times since he’s given you the keys. The first time—Max remembers it was in early January 2020. You held a housewarming party disguised as a little lunch get-together as a thank-you for his gift. Daniel and him as well as two of your former roommates, Max recognizes them as Julia and Kendall from the PR team, are the only ones invited. You cooked pasta. Your mother’s recipe, you claimed. It easily became one of Max’s favorite dishes in the world and he requests you to cook it from time to time.

The second time, Max remembers going there again after the Monaco Grand Prix 2021. It’s been only a week after your breakup with Leo and four races before the incident with the Hamilton fan in Silverstone. The team holds a dinner to celebrate Max taking P1 and usually, you’re present in these types of things—the after parties and team dinners and all forms of team celebrations in general because you like celebrations but you're nowhere to be found.

Max finishes dinner quickly and excuses himself to Horner. He grabs a beer and drives himself to your apartment, because he knows you’re definitely not staying in the hotel with the team.

When you’re sad, you tend to hide away. It's an annoying habit. You make it your career to dig your nose into everyone’s problem—Max’s most especially—and provide everyone with the help you can offer. It's your love language, Max thinks, to be insanely helpful to everyone but the moment that the places switch and you’re the one who needs help, you run away because you refuse to bother everyone else with your problems despite the amount of people who are willing to return the favor you gave them in the past. It is very hypocritical of you.

He knocks on your door. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him. It's an established pattern, a system that works for both of you. You shout for him to wait and Max does so, observing the details of the woodwork in front of him as he waits patiently for you. You have a very nice door.

You open the door. Max’s brows raised slightly at the sight of you. You're still in your Red Bull polo shirt but instead of the pencil skirt you were wearing during the race, you wore short shorts instead. Black, fitted, and they stop a little above your mid-thighs. You're barefoot, too. No YSL heels in sight.

Max turns into a lovely shade of pink. You don't notice it.

You have long legs despite being 5’5” only, which gives off the illusion that you’re very tall when you're actually not. Your body ratio consists of seventy-five percent legs and twenty-five percent upper body. You have lean legs. It's full of childhood scars—thin white lines that are barely noticeable because of how old they are. You have well-built calves and dainty ankles, which look weird but also look right, and your feet are veiny, jagged lines of green blue on skin. Max thinks it's because you wear heels every day.

“Somethin’ wrong, man?” your voice sounds nasal, hoarse, and deep at the same time. Your eyes and nose are red and Max knows full well that you’ve been crying over Leo again and yet you carry yourself as if you're fine, standing in front of him with your shoulders straightened and your tone professional.

Max never liked the bitterness that washes over him whenever he sees you with Leo. But at that moment, he’ll rather endure the bitterness that chokes him until he thinks he’s about to pass out if that makes you alright, if that makes you stop crying.

“I have beer.”

It's a lame thing to say. He should have said something better. He should have asked if you’re alright, should have asked why you were crying, should have asked if there's anything you need him to do just so you’ll feel better. But his mind blanks and he just thrusted the beer forward.

You smile, shaking your head. You take the beer from his hands gratefully, “I have pasta. Wanna go in?”

It's a fair trade. You love beer. He loves your pasta. And so, he entered your apartment.

He faces your door for the third time in 2023. A million thoughts run around his brain per second as his eyes train on the wood patterns of your front door. Dread pools in his stomach as he holds the door knob. He only holds it, not twisting it and pushing it open just yet.

Max is stalling. He knows that. He shouldn't be stalling. He knows that, too.

He dreads what's waiting for him on the other side of the door. He can hear your voice in the back of his skull, saying, “Pussy. You risk your life and drive a rocket ship for a livin’ and you’re afraid of openin’ a damn door?”

Max takes a deep breath and opens the door. Silence and emptiness greets him.

Your apartment has always been bare. You refuse to buy carpets, curtains, houseplants, decorative furnishings or anything that can make your loft apartment seem like someone actually lives there.

(“It's expensive here,” you said.

“I’ll pay,” Max offered.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll just bring something from home.”

You never did.)

Max’s feet lead him to your living room. Dust accumulates on top of your glass coffee table and couch. Max remembers them coming along when he bought the apartment. You never got them changed.

His brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the familiar looking box that sits atop the coffee table. He strides towards it, head tilting to read the little pink sticky note attached to it. It reads: Sorry Max, I can't steal more from Kelly.

Max’s entire world crumbles down. He opens the shoe box and sees the shoe, arranged carefully in place.

He hurriedly reaches for the folder next to it and reads the writings inside.

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024.

Max keeps re-reading the last two sentences just to make sure he’s reading it correctly.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager.

I resigned, Max.

resigned.

Max hurls the shoe box and it zooms in the air and hits the wall. He fists his hair and pulls. A scream erupts in his throat. The neighbors are going to file a noise complaint but Max cannot bring himself to care. He’s the one whose heart is breaking here.

He grabs the folder. Max feels something fall on his foot. He looks down.

A beaded bracelet. Navy blue and red—the color of Red Bull. There are three white beads in the bracelet and on those three white beads are the letters M and V—his initials—and the number 1—his current number.

Max drops on his knees. He picks up the little thing with trembling hands. He brings the bracelet to his chest and Max falls apart. This time, you’re not here to hold him together.

max: hey im planning to visit the US

max: do you think you can show me around?

Logan Sargeant is a good driver. That's a given. It's his profession. But the way he drives; it's making Max sleepy.

“So….” Logan begins awkwardly. “I’m assuming you're visiting Texas because of [Name].”

Max nods, “Yeah.”

“You're not mad at her, are you?” Logan asks. “For resigning?”

“She told you?”

So you told the American boy but not him? Max cannot help but be offended now.

“Well, I kinda assumed? Liam mentioned it to the other day, who heard the news from his cousin.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lawson?”

“Yes, Lawson.”

Max remembers the kid all too well. Liam Lawson has overtaken him in Singapore after all. It's embarrassing. Watch out, Max, you teased him. Liam’s out to get you.

“Liam probably heard it from Leo.”

“Leo?”

Logan is mentioning too many names. Well, it’s just two but two is still many for his brain to comprehend right now.

“Yeah, Leo and Liam are cousins.”

Max pauses.

“Leo and [Name] still talk so I guess [Name] told Leo, who must have mentioned it to Liam, who then mentioned it in the groupchat with me and Osc—are you okay?”

Max tries his hardest not to scream.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, voice tight. “I’m fine. How far are we from Austin?”

They drive past a sign that says “Welcome to Austin.”

“Well, it looks like we’ve just arrived.”

Max is once again offended that Logan knows where you live while he doesn't. Vista Del Pueblo, Logan tells him the name of the place as they hop off the car. It's funny how close you lived from the Circuit of the Americas. No wonder you always requested to be home after the Austin GP before flying off to the next city.

The two-storey yellow and red brick house is empty. Despite that, it looks like a perfect picture of a happy childhood home. The backyard and the patio is wide. Beside the driveway stands an olden tree. Below the tree is a reclining chair that looks like it has gone through a dust storm and a thousand rains.

“It’s empty,” Max announces. Logan nods.

“Yeah.”

Logan ends up approaching an old woman in the neighboring house who was sweeping dust off her porch and asks her if she knows the [Last Name] family’s whereabouts.

“They haven't returned home since Christmas,” she replies. “Everyone in the neighborhood tried contacting them but no one got through. Ever since Julio died… It's like the entire family followed after him.”

Max and Logan stiffen, shocked at the news that's just been revealed.

Julio died….?

Max needs to find you. Urgently. He needs to see if you're okay.

The sun retires for the night and Max decides that it's time for Logan and him to retire as well. Logan drives them to a hotel and Max pays for two rooms despite Logan insisting that he can pay for his own. They grab dinner at the hotel restaurant, in a private area that Max paid for.

“You’re not angry at her, aren't you?” Logan asks for the second time that day. His plate is half empty. Meanwhile, Max’s plate is barely touched. His appetite significantly decreased. He keeps thinking about you, worried about how you're coping with Julio’s death. You are never the best person when it comes to dealing with pain. Physical pain, you can handle. You’re barely fazed when you burn your hand in the oven, when you hit your hip at the corner of the table, when you accidentally get scratches and you don't even notice it until someone points out the blood that terrifyingly drips down your arm. Max can still remember how you dealt with your breakup with Leo. All those nights crying, the unhealthy fixation in work so you won't have any space feeling human emotions, the moments where you disconnect with reality that Max has to pull you out of many times. The death of a father is a million times worse than a breakup. Max imagines a thousand scenarios in his mind. He needs to be with you right now. He needs to make sure you're alright.

“I hope you're not. You obviously are but I still hope you're not,” Logan continues. “She was always going to leave, you know? She told me in January. She told me that she needs to—

Max accidentally throws the glass of water he was holding. It falls onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoes throughout the room. Logan stares at Max with his eyes wide. A cleaning crew comes in a hurry and cleans it up. Max doesn't apologize, he only says, “send me the bill later” and sends the crew out. He turns to Logan.

“She needs to what?”

“You're angry.”

You reminded me, Max said in his mind.

“And?” Max raises his brow. “She needs to what?”

Logan lets out a shaky breath, “She needs to become an engineer or else she’ll never forgive herself.”

Manager. Engineer. What's so damn special about that engineering position anyway? Why are you so hell bent on leaving Max? Red Bull pays you more than an engineer. Hell, Max is even willing to raise your salary to the same amount as half of his annual salary in Red Bull if it keeps you from leaving him. Max is willing to pay for your student loans and refund everything you paid to USC during your college years.

Max pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. He’s feeling too many emotions all at once.

“I think it's best if you talk to Leo?” Logan suggests. Max appreciates that he’s trying to be helpful but mentioning Leo brings nothing but more anger in him. Fucking Leo. Why does he know where you are? He’s your fucking ex for god’s sake. Why are you even still talking to your ex? “He’s close with [Name]. I think he can help you.”

Max contemplates.

He doesn't want to ask fucking Leo.

And he’s not that desperate to seek help from him.

Logan writes his number on a table napkin. Max pockets it.

After dinner, Max sits inside his hotel room. He dials the number Logan gave him because if he’ll tell you where you are, he can swallow his pride for a day. It takes three redials and two rings before Leo answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Leo Stark?”

“Yes, this is he. May I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Max Verstappen.”

Silence.

“Hello, are you still there?”

Max hears a loud crash followed by a series and a whole lot of ruffling, “Sorry about that. Do you mind repeating that?”

“Max Verstappen.”

“Ah, so I’m not hearing things. I thought I was hearing things. Sorry. Do you wish to talk to James Vowles? I can transfer the call to him.”

“No,” Max says. “I want to talk to you. It's about [Name].”

“Oh.” A pause. “You're going to ask me where she is, aren't you?”

“You're smart.”

“Well, mate, too bad. I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t,” he echoes. “I mean I can but I won’t.”

“So you know where she is.” It's not a question. Something bitter rears its ugly head in his stomach. His bitterness and anger now dwarf his worry for you in size. Fuck Logan for reminding him that you always wanted to leave. Fuck Leo for knowing where you are.

“I’m going to ask again and you better give me the answer I want. Where is she?”

“The answer you want?” Leo clicks his tongue. “It’s always what you want. Have you considered what she wants? Does [Name] even want you to find her?”

“You don't know what you're talking about—”

“I do,” Leo interrupts and the way he sounds so sure of himself aggravates Max. “I do, mate. Believe it or not.”

“I see what's happening here,” Max sneers. “I’ve heard you and [Name] broke up because she was prioritizing me over you. Is this it? Are you doing this out of petty jealousy?”

Leo sighs, “You’re making this about you again.”

Max opens his mouth to retort but Leo cuts him off, “Let me get this straight with you, mate. When we were still dating, not once have I been jealous of you. I understood that she works for you and that she has to put you first in certain situations. After all, you’re her job. I’m just the home she returns to after work.”

Max’s jaw clenches. Leo was her home. It was the truth no matter how much Max hated it. Leo does not stop there.

“I have no issue with her focusing on you. The only problem I have with it is her tendency to focus more on you than herself. If you come to her at a very vulnerable time, especially now, there’s a chance that she’s going to focus on you again. She deals with grief in a very unhealthy way and I don't want her to do that. Not when she needs to properly grieve for her father.”

Leo sighs again.

“So please, mate, just this once. Think about what she needs right now and it’s not you.”

You don't need Max.

But Max needs you.

That is one of the most painful truths he’s ever been given.

“She’ll come back. She always does. It may take months. Years, even. Just… Let her grieve and let her pick herself up. There are people who don't want help because they need to do it themselves or else it won't feel fulfilling. [Name] is no different. Also, I’ll be honest with you, mate. I don't want you coming to her before she achieves her dreams. You’re so used to [Name] giving you everything you want that you forgot that she, too, is someone who needs and wants and dreams. She just wanted to be an engineer.”

“And how is this my fault?”

“You knew what she wanted. You agreed to help her achieve it. You didn't allow her to move to Renault. You told her that you’ll ask your team principal after you win and you did win but you didn't keep your end of the bargain.”

“I—”

“Who are you to control her dreams? If you love her, you would have asked Horner, at least. She knows you never asked Horner. Maybe she would have never resigned if you tried to talk to Horner, but you let your selfishness win.”

Max feels all breath punched out of his lungs.

“You had the power to ask your team principal yet you didn't and she has to watch you achieve your dreams while she can't. Unfair, don’t you think?”

A pause.

“Just start considering what she feels, mate. That's all.”

“I am considering her. Always.” This is the closest to a love declaration he can admit out loud. The purest form of love is consideration, they say. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel, pays attention to detail, holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you, keeps promises so you won’t be disappointed, that's when you know they love you.

“Are you really?”

Is he really?

“Take care of her for me, Verstappen. Even from afar. You can do that.”

The call ends.

Max stares blankly at the wall, still holding his phone against his ear. Then, he hurls it across the room. He aggressively drags his hand through his face.

Max flies back to Belgium after Austin to spend the rest of his off-season with his mother and sister. He apologizes to Logan for his behavior. Logan is a kind man, he forgives easily. He drives Max to the airport.

The next day, an article is posted, titled—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN.

On New Year's Eve, Kelly messages Max. He can't say that he’s surprised. In truth, he’s been expecting her to message him, whether it's to beg to take her back or to curse him out or to tell him something about Penelope or it's to inform him that she's going to pick up her things in Max’s penthouse in Monaco.

kelly: i sent someone to pick up our things in your place

max: okay

kelly: also

kelly: *sent a photo*

kelly: she apologized for something that's not her fault

kelly: you have a good one

The photo is a screenshot of Kelly’s conversation with you, dated December 30. That was yesterday.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Max looks up to see his mother’s worried face.

“Oh, uh,” he closes his phone and almost drops it. Fucking clumsy fingers, fucking messages, fucking pain. “Nothing, Mum.”

His mother does not look convinced.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? No need to hide it. You may be a world champion now but you’ll always be my baby,” she says. “What does [Name] always say? Even champions are allowed to cry.”

At the mention of you, Max looks away.

“Tell me. Is it Kelly?”

The last time Max cried in his mother’s arms was when he was eleven. Jos always said boys should never cry. That boys who cry are weak. And weak people do not become champions. Max wanted to be a champion so he never allowed himself to be weak. Weakness only becomes a weakness if it is known so he learned to bottle it up over the years and all the bottled grief became anger. Hence, the birth of his serious anger issues.

He’s twenty-seven now with three WDC titles under his belt. He’s outgrown both of his parents in terms of physical size and in career accomplishments but when his mother’s arms wrapped around him, he allowed himself to become a little boy again. He allowed himself to be weak.

“She left me, Mum,” Max whispers, hugging her mother close. Sophie rubs his back in soothing circles.

“You’ll find someone, Max,” his mother assures.

“I don't want someone else,” he says. “I want [Name].”

“Oh.”

Sophie blinks.

“Max, you—”

“Please, don't make me say it, Mum,” Max pleads, squeezing his eyes shut. A lone tear drips down his cheek. “Don't make me say I’m in love with [Name].”

Max sends an email to Christian that he’s not going to take a manager in 2024. Christian tells him it's a bad idea, that he needs a manager because he’s becoming busy with his schedules and everyone wants a piece of time with the third-time world driver’s champion but Max cannot care less. If it’s not you, he’d rather have no one at all.

Max wants to learn how to get used without you on his side. He did a little reflecting over pre-season and realized how he had become so dependent on you. He learns the functions of a Google calendar and how to use a Notion page.

Max just knows 2024 is going to be a shitty year for him.

Bahrain, Max remembers, is your favorite track. He doesn't know why you like Bahrain. Bahrain is hot. Bahrain is not as exciting as other race tracks. Personally, he prefers Spa-Francorchamps.

He also remembers that you like watching the air show. You never said it outright but you always have this smile on your face while watching the jets painting the sky with colors so Max kind of figured.

Max snaps a picture of the jets in the sky. He opens his Instagram and searches for your name in his message list. When he presses his conversation with you, the first thing that greets him is his spam of angry messages. All delivered, all unread. The last message, Max remembers, was sent when he visited Austin with Logan to search for you.

max: SO YOU TOLD LEO BUT NOT ME? DO I EVEN MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU?

His finger hovers on the send button. He lets out a sigh and he pockets his phone instead.

Daniel approaches Max after Max wins Jeddah.

“Hey, have you been talking to [Name]?” he asks.

“Not lately,” answers Max. Not since she left me, Max thinks.

Daniel scratches his nape. “I think she's angry at me.”

“You’ve been talking?”

Now, Max is offended. So you talked to Leo, you talked to Kelly, you talked to Daniel, but you made no effort to talk to him? When was he going to get a message from you?

“Well, I kinda…” Daniel pulls out his phone. “I just checked up on her? And she replied like a week later. She sounds kinda angry? I don't know. Do you think she sounds angry?”

Daniel shows Max his last conversation with [Name].

daniel: hey!

daniel: heard from max what happened

daniel: we miss you! you should visit come by in bahrain! the opening is gonna be sick

you: can't sorry

daniel: aww how about jeddah

daniel: i’ll fly you out don't worry about traveling commercial

you: idk man

you: might be too much noise and distraction for you

you: good luck in jeddah tho

A very passive aggressive reply.

“Yeah, she is,” Max supplies.

Max wins Bahrain. Max wins Jeddah. Australia, on the other hand, is a funny story. First, the Williams team pulls an annoying move. Poor Logan. He had to give his car to his teammate and sit out of the race.

Max visits him after the news was officially announced. He finds the American racer in his driver room, sitting sadly on the bed with his head bent low, after asking a rookie Williams mechanic, who trembled at the sight of him.

It's a pitiful looking room. Max has a villa for a driver room. Logan doesn't even have a closet for his overalls, just a rack held together by hopes and dreams. The bed is so tiny and narrow that Max is sure he wouldn't even fit if he lies in there unless he assumes a tight fetal position.

“You’re here,” Logan stands from the bed, eyes wide in surprise. He hasn’t expected Max to visit him out of all the people in the grid. Not even his own teammate performed that courtesy. “Uh, I don't have anything. Here, have my seat. Do you want me to grab—”

“It's fine,” Max holds his palm up. “Sit back down, Logan.”

Logan slowly sits back down and moves to the side so Max can have a space to sit on. Max occupies Logan’s given space beside him. Their shoulders and elbows are touching.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Logan nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Max nods, but he doesn't believe him. Comfortable silence wraps the entire room. It lasted less than five minutes.

“You should break the car,” Max suggests seriously. “So no one can drive it, too.”

A soft laugh escaped Logan’s throat.

The door swings open and enters Leo, who freezes when he sees Max Verstappen sitting next to Logan. He looks at the two F1 drivers then back in his hand, where he was holding a large Stanley cup and two styro cups.

“Great, I only brought two cups,” he says, kicking the door behind him to close it. “Should have told me the world champion is coming. I would have brought the expensive wine.”

“What do you have there?”

“Beer,” Leo lifts the Stanley cup and gives it a small shake. “Transferred it to a Stanley cup so no one would notice.”

“James wouldn’t be happy,” says Logan, frowning.

“We’re not happy with him either,” Leo retorts, pouring the beer into the two cups. He hands one to Logan and another to Max.

“I suggested breaking his car,” Max inserts, accepting the cup. He still feels a bit weird to be hanging out with Leo like this. He’s angry still, but he’s not as angry as he was in Austin. Leo’s words, though Max would never admit it out loud, made sense. You left because of Max’s own selfishness. He was the one who had cut your wings and thought that his gesture was out of love when in fact, it was an action born out of his desperation and his fear of being left behind by you.

“Should I?” Leo humors his suggestion, shrugging his shoulders.

Logan sighs, shaking his head at the two. He can’t believe they're both older than him but still wield that petty immaturity.

“Please don't.”

Second, the RB20 has brake issues in Australia so Max ends up retiring in the middle of the race. Max hears everyone cheer at his retirement. That's when you know he’s good. When everyone wishes for his downfall. Everybody in Red Bull grows wary watching their prized driver stomp inside the garage, looking like he has a lot to say to the mechanics. His head is as hot as the burning car at the pit.

Max hears two people whispering amongst themselves:

“Mad Max is back.”

“Where's [Name] when you need her? He’s going to get blow up at us now.”

“[Name] really is a saintess because she’s the only one who can handle him when he’s angry.”

“I never appreciated her efforts before but I am now. I hope she never left.”

Max hopes she didn't, too. Out of all the people in Red Bull, he’s the one who wishes that she hasn't left the most. Now, he’s even angrier.

Max wins P1. If he doesn't, it's a DNF. The problem is the reliability of the car, not him. Never him.

He steps foot in Austin soil again on October 15th for the 19th race of the season, eager to win another P1 and increase his chance of snatching his fourth consecutive world driver’s championship title.

Fortunately, the RB20 doesn't fail him mid-race. The Dutch national anthem is heard all around the Circuit of the Americas and Max retires to the garage, too tired for any form of celebration. He wants to change out of his racing gear. He still has to fix his Google calendar and check out a few things in his Notion page. Who knew being your own manager can be so tiring?

Kendall comes by, a camera in hand. She snaps a quick picture, only one take because she knows Max hates taking pictures. Max believes you mentioned it to her before and has asked her to take the pictures quickly so he wouldn't get annoyed. You were always too thoughtful, always mindful of the little details. Perhaps, it was why he fell in the first place.

Max pivots on his heels to leave after he hears the camera click.

“Oh Max,” Kendall stops him. “[Name] came by earlier. She said congratulations.”

Max entire world stops spinning. Everything else became a mass of white noise.

“Where's she?” Max demands.

“She left already, said she’s got somewhere to be—”

Max sprints to his driver room, grabs his keys and ran all the way to the parking lot where his car was parked, not minding the screams and the questioning stares he received from the people he ran past them to his car. His mind only focuses on one thing—he has to get to you.

He drives down to the familiar road that he and Logan drove in last December 2023. He's racing against time and like all races he'd participated in, he hopes to win. He hopes that he’ll be able to see you. Max arrives at the red and yellow brick house in Vista Del Pueblo, jogging up until the front door and knocking. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him.

No one answers. Max jogs up to the window at the front and peeks inside. The house is still empty as it had been in December.

Max's shoulders sagged.

He wasn't fast enough.

[erwinsvow]

“I want them to like you,” you say, tugging on Rafe’s arm to drag him away from his truck and towards the beach. “I want them to love you.” He’s standing still, feet planted firmly on the pavement. 

You’ve wanted Rafe to meet your friends for the longest time, so much so that it’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about recently. It’s not exactly accurate—he has met them before, many times, actually, but they’ve never been good encounters. You recall a bruise on Pope’s back and JJ’s busted lip, back before they knew Rafe was your boyfriend and he was just public enemy number one.

But things are better now—really, they are. You try to convince yourself all of those incidents are in the past, that everyone’s over it now. You want your friends to like your boyfriend. You want your boyfriend to like your friends. You want it so bad you’re willing to drag Rafe to the beach yourself, if that’s what it takes.

“They can’t stand me,” Rafe replies, scanning the surroundings. He doesn’t like them, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings either, if they overhear the two of you right now. “Can’t stand them, either, y’know.”

“But you like me, don’t you?” you ask, smiling wide, all cheery and bright. Like he has to tell you again. He rolls his eyes, making you laugh.

“Not at all. What gave y’that stupid idea?” You roll your own pretty eyes in a matching response.

“C’mon, Rafe, look, they’re already here-” you whine, pointing at the giant, junky thing your Pogue friends call a car. He doesn’t let you anywhere near the thing anymore if he can help it—drops you off and picks you up because that thing is a death trap, even more so with one of the stoned idiots driving it. “I don’t wanna be late, so move-” you start pushing at his chest, but he doesn’t give you an inch. 

You huff, hot sun beating down on you, muscles tired from trying to move your entirely too strong boyfriend. 

“Fine,” you finally let out, giving up. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“Good girl. I’ll swing by to get you in a couple hours and then we can go for dinner-”

“Sounds good,” you interrupt, causing Rafe to look at you with an eyebrow raised—you never interrupt him. “I’ll just have Pope put the sunscreen on my back for me. Since you won’t be there.”

“Wait a minute-”

“And JJ’s been dying to teach me how to surf. Y’know, last time I tried though, my top fell off. But I guess it’s no big deal. I bet John B can put it back on for me.”

Rafe thinks he’s mastered the look of not caring sometimes, face blank, eyes showing nothing but mild disturbance. This is not one of those times. You smile, because you can’t help it, watching your boyfriend’s ears turn bright pink, the muscles in his jaw clench, his fist tighten around your pink beach bag.

You put your hand over his, gently, trying to take the bag so you can walk away with it. You’re not sure if your plan worked until he snatches the bag back, hand holding your wrist tightly. 

“Come on, kid,” he mutters, heading in the direction of the beach. “Pain in my ass,” you hear him say quietly, but you feel giddy that he agreed to join you after all. 

Your friends are set up by the water, towels haphazardly thrown on the sand, a case of beer resting in the shade under the umbrella. JJ is waxing his board, Pope is standing next to him, critiquing his method. John has just crushed a beer can down, and chucks it at Kie, who ducks and starts yelling about how inhumane littering is. 

“Hey!” you hear Pope beam, a smile lighting up your face. “Look who’s here-” and Kie joins in with an excited yell, tossing the empty can back at John B and hitting the back of his head. 

“Thought you’d never come back to us now that you’re a fancy Kook girl. Where’s that-” JJ goes silent, watching Rafe walking behind you, staring blankly, looking pissed. “-asshole boyfriend. Nevermind, I found him.”

“I brought Rafe,” you say, a big smile taking over again. You look expectantly at everyone, and then stare until they give you the reaction you want. They mumble hi and hey, Kook, and you turn back to Rafe, taking your bag and figuring out where to put your towels—pink, like the bag, like your bikini. Rafe’s shorts are white, with little pink stripes to match you. 

You both sit down on the sand before you finally offer him the bottle of sunscreen and lay flat on your stomach so he can put it on. He squirts some onto his hands, rubbing them together to spread it out and then first slaps your ass, leaving a sandy, white handprint on the skin. Your body jerks, whining against the towel.

“Had to. Practically asking for it. M’not apologizing,” he says, quiet enough that only the two of you can hear. His hands rub the sunscreen onto your back and arms, but then you decide everything he does is too erotic for public, so you turn back, insisting that’s enough sun protection. You just got here and you don’t want to leave because you can’t resist your boyfriend just yet.

You turn your head, noticing Kie walking towards you with a can of hard seltzer, the fruity kind she knows you prefer. The boys are by the other umbrella, tossing beers at each other. You tug on Rafe’s arm again.

“Why don’t you go get a beer with them. You can talk. It’ll be nice!” 

There’s nothing he’d rather do less. 

“Came here to hang with you, not them,” he says curtly, head resting back on the towel.

“Rafe!” The things he does for you. “Please?” He shouldn’t have looked at you—that was his mistake. Five seconds of your pout and your sincere eyes is enough to make him do whatever you want.

“Five minutes, then I’m coming back. That’s it.”

“Thank you,” you sing sweetly. Kiara comes and settles down next to you. “Is it strawberry? My favorite!” he hears you say, followed by the hiss of you opening the can, as he gets up and stalks towards your friends.

Their conversation dies when Rafe steps up—something he doesn’t like. He could care less about these idiots, but he really doesn’t want you to get caught in the middle of this shit. He can see it already—your pretty face covered in tears, crying because you care too much about him, care too much about your friends.

Rafe knows you’d pick him over them, he just doesn’t want to force you to make that choice.

“What’re you drinking?” he questions. Three pairs of eyes stare at him blankly. A retort bubbles inside him angrily—Stupid and deaf? You losers can’t catch a break, huh? He turns to look at you, hoping you’re in conversation with Kie and sipping your sugary drink. You’re not. You’re staring at the four of them with a hopeful smile.

He swallows the comment and turns with a forced, hard smile. “Beer? That’s great. Toss me one.” Pope does as he says, and then goes back to drinking his own. 

“S’like weird, to see you smile. Didn’t know you could do that,” JJ comments, crushing his own beer can up now that it was empty. Rafe wishes you were here, listening, because-

“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?” John B lets out a laugh at that, Pope joins in. Rafe cracks another smile, they’re pretty goofy, just like you had said. “Nah, I’m just saying, like, didn’t think you could be nice. Must be, if she likes you.”

Rafe turns to look back at you again, quickly. You’re talking to Kie now, head thrown back, laughing. You look prettiest like this, when you’re happy. 

“Yeah, for her.” Then he takes another long chug of the beer, looking back at them. “You idiots don’t make it easy.”

“It’s not easy for us, either,” Pope interjects. “I mean, you did hit me with a golf club.” Rafe runs a hand through his hair, unsure what to say, because he did do that. 

“Yeah, I, uh-” he trails off. “Sorry, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” JJ says.

“All in the past,” John B tacks on. 

It must be several beers later, because you hear the boys laughing and… getting along? You decide to walk over, just to make sure your eyes and ears aren’t deceiving you. The box they had just bought earlier today was filled with the empties, the unmistakable sound of your boyfriend’s laugh filling your ears, your friends all engaged in conversations. You decide to turn back rather than interrupt, giddiness filling your heart that everything worked out. You don’t catch the end of their conversation, already back to your towel and opening another drink with Kie.

“And then I went there,” JJ starts, “-and I was like should I leave, because then her parents might wake up, because I forgot the condom-”

JJ stops to take another sip of the beer, and Rafe cuts him off.

“Wait, you guys use condoms?” 

Three pairs of eyes turn on him.

When you two walk back to his truck a little later, he swings his arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“What was that for?” you ask, happy and tired.

“Yeah, I don’t think they like me much.”

[malum-forev]

Oooh can I get some fake-dating?? Either fratboy or mafia Bucky? Like they come to her rescue and pretend she's with them, saving her from some unfortunate situation!

Hi hiii this is my first time writing Mafia Bucky! Let me know what you think!

 You hated the term man’s game. Absolutely loathed it. Men with their pea sized brains thinking they’re above people of the opposite sex, when in reality the only thing floating around their heads are the words dick, tits, ass. On an infinite loop. 

When you went into the field of law, you thought with hard work and perseverance you would crash the glass ceiling. Paving the road for women like yourself wanting to make it. What you didn’t realize is that what is supposed to be glass, turns out to be concrete. A miles thick concrete ceiling, completely impenetrable. 

You smoothed the fabric of your pencil skirt and impatiently tapped your foot on the floor. The wooden chair outside the DA’s office was becoming an annoying reminder of your future, bolted down outside the door. It felt like you’d always be outside the door.

The frosted glass door opened revealing laughter coming from the inside. Your boss’ booming fake laugh made your skin crawl.

“You better work on that swing by Friday, Kent.” Your senile old boss said. It should be illegal to have fossils like him still on the job, making decisions while they still think women can’t vote. “I’ll leave you with my assistant, she’ll get all the details about the Moranes case.”

“Paralegal.” You corrected even though you knew it would go in one ear and out the other. 

The district attorney, a man older than your father, raked your body. From your pointed heels to your appropriately buttoned silk blouse. “Where have you been hiding this one?”

He all but drooled at the sight of you, a disgusting trait men thought was a compliment. 

“I keep her holed up at the office, but I’ll let you have her if you send the case over to us.” Your boss “joked” but once he saw the stern look on your face he held his hands up. “I’m just foolin’ around. Can’t make a joke anymore without getting a slap on the wrist from HR.”

“I know a few things about that.” The DA laughed, pointing at his older secretary. “How’d you think I got stuck with this one?”

The interaction made your skin boil, there were actual men who thought women’s only purpose in life was to get them hard. And you, sadly, had to put up with it on a daily basis. 

Your boss soon left, hoping you would comply with anything the DA told you to do. Anything to get the job done, was his mentality. 

“How about we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?” The DA’s sleazy smile sent a shiver through your spine.

You looked around the almost abandoned hallway. “I just need to take some notes on the file so, here is fine.”

The district attorney was quickly becoming annoyed. “I wasn’t asking, actually.”

You opened your mouth to try and keep him calm but you felt a hand travel through your lower back and set itself on your hip. You looked down to find a tattooed hand with gold and silver rings adorning the fingers. His knuckles were shades of pink, purple, and blue, sporting a couple of barely healed gashes. If someone were to ask you who you thought this person was, you’d never in a thousand years guessed the correct answer.

“She wasn’t asking either, Kent.” A deep rough voice appeared.

You looked up to find the one and only James Bucky Barnes, head of one of the most prolific and notorious mafia families in New York. 

“B-Barnes.” The DA stuttered. 

“I’m sure you can find a way to make my girlfriend’s life easier.” Bucky stared the man down, his dark blue eyes burning holes through his body. 

“Girlfriend?” He asked, scared. 

“Girlfriend.” Bucky barked. 

The DA gulped. “I’ll have my assistant send her office the files.”

“I’d appreciate if you drop them by yourself.” Bucky lip twitched upwards. “As a personal favor to me and the ladies down at the Spin Top.”

The district attorney furiously nodded, his eyes widening at the words spoken. Bucky was dangling incriminating information like it was no big deal.

Bucky pulled you closer to his side, his hand never leaving your hip. A gentle but firm grip. He waved his gloved hand in a shooing motion. “You can leave now Kent.”

The district attorney tripped over his feet and quickly closed his office door behind him, locking it. 

With a chuckle, Bucky released you. He took a cigarette from his suit’s breast pocket and lit it up.

“He thinks a door can protect him.” Bucky scoffed. “Pathetic.”

“You’re not allowed to smoke in here.” You said, your voice strong.

Bucky bit his bottom lip to contain a smile, you were pure fire.

He looked around the almost vacant office, any person who was there had already turned around. Some were even facing the wall, anything to not make eye contact with the mob boss. “I don’t see anyone telling me to put it out, princess.”

“I’m not some sort of damsel in distress, just so you know.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

Bucky’s eyes never left yours, he cocked his head to the side. “This could work, you and me-“

You laughed. “You and me? There is no you and me, it doesn’t exist.”

Bucky walked towards you until your back was flush against the wall, he placed his forearm over your head, trapping you underneath him. His intoxicating smell filled your senses, woody, smokey, citrus. A combination that wouldn’t work on anyone but him. 

“By the looks of it, you need someone next to you so they take you seriously.” His words were slow and controlled, completely opposite to your body language. Your chest heaved, making the space between the buttons over your chest expand. Anyone else would have looked down but Bucky, he kept his eyes on your face. “I can be that for you. One outing with me and you’ll have every judge, every lawyer, everyone at the palm of your hand.”

“What’s in it for you?” You whispered, your throat suddenly became dry. 

For the first time, he let his eyes travel downwards to your lips. A calloused finger ran from your collarbone to your jaw. “I need someone sweet and innocent, just like you, to help me take over everything. You see, every family needs a head. And there is no head without a neck. But no one seemed to interest me, that is, until I laid my eyes on you.” 

“It would have to be for show, everything would be fake.” You whispered, closing your eyes for a moment to bask the sensation of Bucky hand on your neck. 

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll put on the greatest show, I’ll even have you believing my every word.” 

Pleaaaseee be sure to comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Remember, one comment = one kiss on my forehead! <3

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

[toppersjeep]

Part 5 Where Do We Go Now- Lando Norris X Reader

Masterlist

(pretend you are bia for this ig post)

y/ngasly✔️: orange has always suited me better 🧡

-tagged landonorris

liked by 2.5 million

f1wags: the shade in the caption I’m living for petty y/n

y/nfan: f1wags right!! she slays

mclaren✔️: you always look good in orange we love you 🧡

y/nxlando: THE MIDDLE PICTURE IM SCREAMING

charlesleclerc✔️: hard launch ??

y/ngasly✔️: charlesleclerc 🤭👀

landonorris✔️: 😍 the first picture

lilymunhe✔️: WIFEY

lewishamilton✔️: 🤭

danielricciardo✔️: picture credits to me for the second one!

landonorris✔️: I think I’ve fallen for my race strategist

y/ngasly✔️: landonorris I think I’ve fallen for my racer

_____

Your POV

“Hi beautiful” Lando said hugging me from behind. “Oh hi” I said. “What are you doing” he said kissing my cheek. “Trying to work on this strategy but your distracting me” I said. “Oh I’m a distraction” Lando said.

“Mmmh” I said he sat beside me. “Can we at least do lunch baby” Lando said. “We definitely can” I said. “See your always working though” he said. “I mean I think my racer needs a good strategy” I said. “I think he’d win either way” Lando said.

“Oh really” I said. “Mmmh he’s got his lucky charm” he said holding my hand. “That’s sweet” I said he then kissed me. “Are you two working or making out” Oscar said.

“Working” I said. “Yeah she had something on her face” Lando said. “Oh I just wanted to tell you Max is downstairs” Oscar said. I sighed. “Want me to go with you” Lando said.

“No I think I’ll be okay” I said getting up. “If you need me I’ll be there” he said. “Thank you” I said kissing his cheek. I then walked downstairs to find Max. He was standing outside waiting for me. I walked over to him.

“What” I said. “… Lando seriously you tell me there’s nothing and” Max said. “My love life isn’t your concern anymore” I said. “It is when you sit there shading me” Max said showing my post. “… Max” I said. “It’s just I don’t get it” Max said.

“You broke up with me remember Max” I said. “Yeah I do remember that” he said. “Then don’t come to my place of work.. and tell me who I can’t date” I said. “So it’s that simple for you huh” he said. “Max I wanted everything with you.. then you let me down” I said.

“And he’s gonna give you that” Max said. “Yes I am Max” Lando said. “Of course” Max said. “You had your chance to give her everything she wanted” Lando said. “I…you don’t understand” Max said. “Oh no I do.. Max” Lando said.

“All those years you got to be with her and I waited on the sidelines” Lando said. “Do you want me to be honest cause you never deserved her” he added I looked at him. “And now that I have her I’ll never let her go” Lando said I smiled.

“Max you messed up and that’s something you have to live with” I said. “So don’t come here trying to ruin our relationship” Lando said. “I was actually coming to apologize to Y/N for the way I spoke to her” Max said. “But then I heard about you two” Max said.

“Then apologize” I said. “Look I’m not perfect nobody is and I’m sorry for .. calling you names” Max said. “And treating you terribly okay.. I’m not gonna fight with you guys” Max said.

“I appreciate your apology but it’s gonna take a lot more than that” I said. “I know I just wanted to say sorry look I gotta go but.. I’m glad your happy” Max said putting a hand on my shoulder then walking away.

“That was interesting” Lando said. “Yeah it was very interesting” I said. “So wanna grab that lunch instead” Lando said. “Yes I think I need a cute distraction” I said smiling.

[rogerswifesblog]

Help you out

My Masterlist

A/N: hi! This idea is inspirited by a tiktok I saw about a woman leaking because she saw a baby cry in a movie 🤣🤣 so, yeah… Read the warning!!!! Not your thing? Just skip this one shot:)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary; the avengers have a movie night together and a baby cries on screen. Reader, having given birth a few months ago, is very sensitive to baby cries…her breasts start leaking and Steve comes to help…

Warinings: past pregnancy, mentioned reader having a child, father unknown (mentioned ons), leaking breasts, lactation kink, breast milk, mommy kink, daddy kink, p in v, breeding kink, slight pregnancy kink, multiple creampies, mentioned stretch marks (once)

18+

You leaned your head against Steve’s shoulders, while watching the movie. It wasn’t really exciting, but you enjoyed being close to Steve. It wasn’t a secret (well, actually it was) that you liked Steve. A lot. Only Natasha knew-she was the one that stood you by when you found out about your pregnancy, when you explained to her that you didn’t remember your daughters fathers name and that it was a drunken one night stand. After that your and Steve’s friendship kind of…you couldn’t explain it. Nothing changed, but everything was so different.

Sighing you closed your eyes, slowly burying your face in the soft material of Steve’s sweater-but then what you’ve feared most happened.

A baby wailing.

You immediately felt your breasts wetting your maternity bra and the shirt you were wearing. Even Steve’s sleeve, since you had been cuddling with him. “Fuck”, you whispered, grabbing you breasts to stop the milk flowing, but it didn’t help much. “I’ll be right back-“, with that you disappeared, quickly walking to the bathroom.

The team watched you go, all slightly confused. All besides Natasha, Wanda and Steve. Both women knew how the body of a mother worked, especially with a crying baby, even if it wasn’t yours. And Steve…Steve smelled it. Felt it. The sweet smell of your milk, the warm feeling when it wetted his sleeve. Fuck. His dick hardened and he had to pull the blanket higher over his crotch.

He really tried not to think about your sweet milk, how your breasts looked when they leaked…

It took him a few minutes till he finally felt his dick calm down and you still weren’t back. Maybe you went feeding your baby? But he didn’t think you’d extra wake your girl up, especially when she finally had fallen asleep. You had said yourself you hoped she’d sleep through most of the night.

“I’ll get her”, he mumbled not to disturb the movie and went to your room. Since he couldn’t find you there and the bathroom door was closed, he guessed you were there. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”, he knocked and opened the door after hearing you let him in.

His gaze fell onto your naked breasts and he felt himself blush immediately. “Oh-I-sorry-I thought you said yes-“ “I did, Steve, it’s fine. You’ve seen me feed her so many times, I don’t care about it anymore-I just-I can’t find my pumps-but ugh, I have so much milk. She didn’t eat a lot today and now I feel so, so full”, you whined, your nipples still leaking occasionally, while you tried to find your pumps which you always had in your cabinet.

Where the fuck did you put them?

You noticed how Steve was still staring at your breasts. They looked so heavy. So full. So…god, he felt his dick stiffen again. That was so embarrassing. Was he being a weirdo? But your breasts looked so good. He wanted to grab them. Maybe bury his face in them…lick your nipples, taste- ““Steve-don’t look at them like that. It’s like you’ve never seen boobs before-” “I haven’t seen leaking boobs”, Steve you idiot. Where was this brain to mouth filter when you needed it. It definitely never worked for Steve. Especially in situations where it would be very much important to think before talking.

Steve’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red and even you felt blood rush to your cheeks. A soft smile escaped your lips. “And now what? You wanna touch them?”, you didn’t expect for Steve to actually lift his hand, but he quickly pulled away, blushing even deeper. “Sorry I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like my brain isn’t…yhm…braining”, he mumbled, his eyes still on your tits. It looked like they were leaking even more than before. And when he took a deep breath the sweet smell was there, too. Sometimes he hated his enhanced abilities. Especially in the city, it was always overwhelming but now…fuck, he loved it. He could smell you.

Slowly you turned around, dripping your arms at your sides. Steve licked his lips, looking at your heavy breasts, their size definitely changed since before your pregnancy. From small and perky to more..heavy hanging and also bigger.

“If you want…you can touch, I mean…but…I’m sensitive and…well, leaking”, you mumbled, watching as Steve stepped a bit closer. Your breath hitched when he slowly lifted his hand, so close to touch and yet not close enough. You haven’t been intimate with anyone since…you found out about your pregnancy. Which definitely was a long time. You had a crush on Steve for the past three years, so it made your excitement even more when he finally cupped your breasts gently. It’s not how you imagined his hands on you for the first time, but it didn’t matter. It’s probably the first and also last time that he touches you that way-and you’d enjoy it for as long as it would last.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips when his thumb rubbed over your wet nipple, while he put his other hand under your breast to feel the weight of it in his palm. “Fuck…feels so different from other breasts, can I-“, before he finished the question he squeezed your breast lightly, some of your milk dripping from your nipple. Since you had closed your eyes, you didn’t notice it happening. It just felt so good being touched like this. Having someone lift your heavy breasts. The weight gone, the soreness in your shoulder immediately being reduced.

While you weren’t watching Steve gently let go of one of your breasts, lifting his milk covered hand to his mouth, licking it away. When you heard the licking and quiet slurping, you opened your eyes in surprise.

Steve was licking your milk from his finger away.

When he felt your gaze, his cheeks became scarlet once again. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable..just…curious…M’sorry”, he mumbled behind his palm.

You bit your bottom lip, slowly looking down at your breasts, then back at Steve. “And…is it…like…good?”, you asked quietly, maybe even slightly insecure. Steve nodded immediately, looking at your breasts again, before back to your curious eyes. “Hell yeah, so good-like….like almond? Maybe? It reminds me of almond”, he mumbled, stepping a bit closer, till your nipples touched his shirt.

He grabbed your hips, lifting you on the cabinet next to the sink. A squeak escaped your lips from the quick movements. A grin crept onto his lips. “Let…let me help you. I can tell your breasts are heavy…they hurt, huh? So full…and tender…Let Daddy help you”, he whispered into your ear, licking over your lips (and risking your friendship at this moment.) He actually surprised himself, but now he couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Steve-yes, fuck, yes, yes, yes”, you whispered, pressing yourself against him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. The blond looked at you for a moment, your eyes, then to your lips, before leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. You brushed your hand into his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss. Feeling his lips against your made your heartbeat quicken, a warmth spreading in your chest.

After a few more long moments you pulled away, needing to breathe again. Steve immediately started kissing your neck, leaving rosy suck marks behind, before kissing down to your breasts. He looked up at you for a moment, making sure you were still okay with it-and fuck, you were so okay with it.

He licked teasingly over your breast, circling your nipple, before closing his lips around it, sucking gently. A moan escaped your lips, while you grabbed Steve’s hair, pushing him even closer, unknowingly rubbing your crotch against his hard bulge. Only then did you notice he was hard as a rock.

Steve rutted against you, the taste of your milk filling his mouth and making him feral. It tasted better than he imagined. He couldn’t stop himself from sucking harder, pulling at your nipple, grabbing your breast and squeezing to get more milk out. His mouth was so full of your milk, he felt it leak from the corners of his mouth. There was so much. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He grinded his hard dick even harder into your pulsing heat. “Steve-Daddy, fuck me”, you whined into his hair opening his pants with one hand. A moan escaped his lips when you pushed his boxershorts down, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. He let go of your nipple, glancing at you from under his eyelashes. He licked over his lips, licking away the drops that didn’t make it into his mouth. “Is that so, mommy? Want me to fuck you?”, he grinded, kissing you once again, helping you out of your pants and panties, nearly ripping them from your body.

When your gaze fell onto his hard cock you gasped. “Steve-I don’t think you’ll fit. You’d be the first after-after I gave birth and-holy Jesus, I’m pretty sure my stitches are healed but-but you’re-like-really big”, a quiet laugh interrupted your rambling, while Steve started stroking himself. “I’ll be gentle…promise, but do you have a condom?”, he kissed your cheeks gently, his other hand slowly trailing from your breasts down to your core. He bit his bottom lip feeling how drenched you were, slowly entering you with one of his thick fingers.

For a moment you completely forgot his question, but when he repeated it, you slowly shook your head. “It’s-its fine-I’m on the pill”, you mumbled, overwhelmed by the single finger he was pressing into your wet core. It felt so, so good…

When he curled his finger, hitting your sensitive spot, your whole body twitched, your breasts jiggling with the movement. “You’re making me crazy, sweetheart. Let me taste you again, mommy. Wanna drink your milk..tastes so good”, he mumbled, before sucking the neglanced nipple into his mouth, his taste buds being hit with your sweet milk again. “So fucking good”, he m whispered against your skin, the sound of sucking and slurping following.

At this point he had drunk so much of your milk, he really felt it filling his tummy, warm and sweet. He could do this all day.

Another moan escaped your lips when he hit the spot again, his palm grinding against your clit, while he slowly added a second finger, now feeling how tight you were. The stretch made you moan into his hair. “Fuck I’ll-I think I’ll come”, you whispered into his hair and just when you finished the sentence, he stated sucking harder, the pleasure overwhelming you. An intense and sudden orgasm overtook you, making you open your mouth in a silent moan, while you pulled Steve’s even more against your breasts.

“Fuck me-fuck mommy, Steve-fuck me Daddy”, you babbled, while he slowly took out his fingers, to replace them with his hard cock. You quickly grabbed his wrist, pulling his fingers to your lips, and licking your arousal from them. A quiet ‘fuck’ escaped Steve’s lips when he lifted his head to watch you. “Are you sure about the condom?”, he whispered again, because…until now he had never fucked someone without a condom. And the thought alone made his cock twitch and leak against your already wet folds.

You nodded again, wrapping your legs even tighter around his waist, the mushroom head already pushing into your drenched cunt. “I want you to fuck your cum into me, daddy. Fuck me, fuck me please”, you whispered kissing his neck. “I want to feel it leak out of me when we get back to the living room-want to be marked. Come on daddy-“, he could stop himself from thrust a bit into you, making you gasp loudly.

“You’ll be the death of me, mommy. Gonna fuck you so good. Gonna come so many times. Get you all round and full again. You’ll make me a daddy”, he whispered, needing all his self control not to just starting fucking you like an feral animal, pounding your thighs cunt till he’d come in you at least four times. Having your stomach bulging with his cum.

You moaned when his dick rubbed along your soft spot perfectly. “Steve-yes-get me all round and stuffed full”, you gasped. Steve could already imagine seeing your tummy big and round again. This time with his child.

“Gonna fuck you so good, mommy”, with that he bottomed out, giving you a bit time to adjust. His fingers circled your clit, till you were a moaning and shaking mess. His lips wrapped once again around your nipple, sucking harsher than before, wanting to get all the sweet nectar out of you.

“Move Steve-Daddy move-and don’t fucking stop till you’ve at least two loads fucked into me”, you moaned. And that’s when you finally broke his self control. He pulled his dick to the top out, pushing hard back into you, repeating it again, again, again and again…

Your moans making him thrust faster, harder, till the whole cabinet started hitting the wall but he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t even care if the team heard it. He was on a fucking mission. (Ha)

He braced himself with one hand against the wall, the other one holding your hips, his thrusts felt now even harder than before. “Oh my-Daddy-I’m-fuck I’m coming”, it surprised you when you squirted all over Steve’s pants and the cabinet underneath you, your cunt tightening around him. Him being still fully dressed, while you were completely naked made you feel…something. You couldn’t explain how you felt.

A loud moan escaped his chest when he started filling your cunt with his seed, without stopping pounding into you. His cum leaking around his dick, but he didn’t care, the squelching sounded louder than before.

You held into his back with one hand, the other one braced against the cabinet, while Steve fucked you. Your soft spot feeling way over stimulated but it felt so good, you couldn’t stop.

Only after two more orgasm from Steve and another one from you, he started slowing down, only grinding his hips into you. “Now let me suck those tits again”, he grinned against your neck, before doing as told. Your breathing was heavy, uneven, your heartbeat racing. Did this..all really happened? Wow.

After a few more minutes Steve let your nipple out of his mouth with a loud ‘pop’, before also pulling out. You immediately felt empty-feeling the cum that was leaking out of you.

Steve bit his bottom lip, when he looked down at his cum coated dick, before looking back to you. “Can I see?”, he whispered, making you raise your eyebrows. “Wha’ you wanna see?”, you mumbled tiredly.

His cheeks blushed. He fucking blushed.

“I’ve never…you know, without a condom”, he grinned, gently pushing your knees apart. “But Steve I’m not as pretty anymore down there- you know from-“ “yeah I know how you feel about it, but I still think you’re beautiful. You made a life in your stomach and pushed it out-anyone who’d shame you about would be a total asshole”, he whispered, kissing your lips gently. The soft taste of your milk still on them.

So you slowly lifted your legs a bit more, feeling the blush creeping onto your face. Steve bit his bottom lip, looking at your cum drenched folds, slightly gaping hole and-. “Your stitches are all fine. They are definitely hea-“ “Steve! I would’ve checked myself!”, you scolded him, feeling your face heat up even more, while you swatted his arm. The blond grinned, shrugging and holding your legs up when you wanted to close them. “I’m already looking, so the least I can do is let you know.”

You kicked him for that comment, making him only laugh more.

After he gently helped you from the counter, you felt more cum leak out of your pussy onto your thighs. You didn’t mean to, but you grimaced slightly, looking back at Steve, who had a slightly possessive-maybe even predatory-glimmer in his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful”, he whispered, his hand stroking over your stomach, right over your stretch marks.

A blush crept onto your lips and you put your arms around him, your hands sliding underneath his shirt. He kissed your head. “Let’s ditch the movie and take a bath, hm, sweetheart? Afterwards we can lay down and…talk a bit about what happened. I don’t want it to be a one time thing”, he whispered into your hair, pulling you a bit closer into his warm embrace.

BONUS

In the morning you woke up alone in bed, but you could hear Steve’s quiet whisper from the other corner of your bedroom. “Come on little girl, we don’t want to wake your mommy with crying, huh? Give me a little smile-exactly, yeah, now we can go get her”, you opened your eyes, watching as Steve gently swayed your babygirl in his arms, turning to your bed.

When he noticed you were awake, a shy smile crept onto his lips. “I-sorry if you dont want me to do it, it’s just; I woke before you and heard her start sniffing so I thought I could try to keep her from crying. She’s probably hungry”, he said, while sitting next to you, helping you sit up with one hand. Your little babygirl fitting perfectly in his arm.

“Hungry? Let’s hope there’s something left after your appetite”, the comment made Steve blush, now you could see the blush creeping from his chest to his cheeks. After the night your breasts were already heavy-not as much as yesterday, but definitely enough. Your baby’s cries stopped when she latched onto your nipple, sucking greedy.

You didn’t even notice Steve’s fond gaze on the two of you.

Steve kissed your cheeks, before standing up again. “I’ll get us some breakfast-“ “I’ll come with you, just give me a few minutes.”

So he waited till you and your girl were ready and dressed, him also putting on sweatpants and a shirt, before walking to the kitchen, where the team sat.

When you two entered the kitchen, all gazes were on you. Clint and Bruce seemed nearly frightened, pale as ghosts, Natasha, Bucky and Tony were smirking, Wanda avoided your gaze and Thor grinned like always.

“I hope the cabinet is still standing-“ “Tony!”

Well….👀

Thank you for reading! Leave some feedback and let me know how you liked it! Don’t forget to comment and reblog!! Support your writers<3

Tags: @inlovewithchrisevans

Wanna be on my taglist? Be active (leaving feedback and reblogging:)) and let me know

Flood my inbox with HC, Drabble/OS ideas or questions! Just whatever you want to leave there! Anons welcome 😋

❤️

[just-j-really]

Unsolumates, part five:

Masterpost

“Have you found your person yet?” Morpheus asks. “Your- not your soulmate?”

It’s been a little over two months, since Hob and Audrey broke up. Somehow ‘getting dinner with Morpheus just after’ had turned into ‘additional drinks’ had turned into ‘brunch, a few days later,’ and now Hob doesn’t think a week has passed since the breakup that he hasn’t seen Morpheus, at least briefly. Morpheus has carefully avoided the subject of soulmates, of romance entirely, for the entire nine weeks, and Hob is a little ashamed and a lot grateful.

They aren’t… whatever they were, before. Hob still isn’t sure if ‘whatever’ was ‘experiment and mad scientist.’ He’s doesn’t really care, though, because whether or not he used to be Morpheus’ monster, he doesn’t think he is anymore. Not after two months of regular, friendly pleasantries and coaxing Morpheus into talking about the play he’s working on and Morpheus listening to him wax poetic about his new flat and its in-unit laundry and actual decent heat.

So it feels perfectly easy to say, “Haven’t really been looking for ‘em,” even if it aches a little. Morpheus looks a little startled by the admission, so Hob adds, “Morpheus. I just spent fifteen minutes explaining what I had for breakfast yesterday, I would have mentioned if I were seeing someone.”

In his defense, it had been a good breakfast. A breakfast worthy of fifteen minutes of conversation. He might have to steal Gwen’s soulmate solely to get her pancake recipe.

Morpheus stares at the table, twisting one cuff of his coat in his opposite hand. “But you’re certain,” he says to the table. If he were anyone else Hob would say he sounds hesitant. “You will look for them. Eventually.”

This means something to him, Hob realizes. Something more than research, or mad science, more than curiosity. Means something on a future-altering bone-deep soul-defining level.

The thought drops into Hob’s mind, like a dead bird dropped into his lap by a pet cat that genuinely thinks it’s being generous, that Morpheus’ soulmate may be dead. It would explain the coat, which he hasn’t taken off even though the White Horse is boilingly warm tonight. Would explain why Hob’s only ever seen him in sleeves that go down to, often past, his wrists. Scarred-over soulmarks don’t look terribly different from ordinary scars, at least not at a quick glance, which means that any suspiciously soulmark-shaped scar tends to draw prying glances and effusive pity, and people with actual soulmark scars do their best to hide them.

It would explain a lot about Morpheus, actually, from the distant intensity with which he’d approached the whole soulmate thing to his complete ignorance of how even normal dating works to the delicate way Will had gone about inviting him to his wedding, asking if Hob thought he was overstepping at least six times in the process.

And oh, god, Hob’s been staring at Morpheus’ arms like an asshole, hasn’t he? He consciously draws his eyes away from Morpheus’ sleeves, which means he ends up looking into his eyes instead. His eyes are so blue, a shade Hob isn’t sure how to describe as anything other than ‘pretty,’ somehow light and intense and warm all at once.

Mesmerizing, maybe. Hypnotic.

The truly off-putting combination of the disarming blue of Morpheus’ eyes and Hob’s own scramble not to think about dead soulmates is, possibly, why he says, “I’ll make you a bet,” before his brain has caught up with his mouth, or even finished trying to come up with synonyms for ‘blue.’

“Hmm?” Morpheus asks. His expression is cool, but there’s a teasing glint in those ultramarine eyes that goads Hob on.

“That you can keep asking me that, as long as you want, and one day the answer will be ‘yes, and we’re very happy together.’” Hob finishes off his drink, sets his glass down with just enough force to punctuate the challenge. “I’ll even stake something on it. You could shave my head.”

“Why would I want to shave your head?” Morpheus asks. His expression is still entirely bland, but his eyes- azure- are dancing.

“That’s not the point,” Hob informs him, leaning in. He might be a bit too enthusiastic about the idea, but he’s a little giddy for no specific reason, just a good day and good company. “The point is that I don’t want you to, and I’m still willing to bet on it because I’m going to win.”

“Fine,” Morpheus says, rolling his eyes, “I’ll take the bet.”

Hob can see right through him, though. More to the point, he can see the way Morpheus is biting at his lower lip, completely ineffectively hiding a smile, and he’s powerless not to smile back.

At first, Hob thinks Morpheus is going to take this bet as seriously as their initial Whatever That Was. The first thing out of his mouth, the next time he and Hob meet for drinks, is so have you met your person yet? And Hob says not yet, and Morpheus asks if that means he’s won, and Hob informs him that a ‘not yet’ is not a ‘no’ and also did Morpheus expect him to find the love of his life within a week? He is not the lead in one of Will’s plays, why would he do that.

For someone who looked so smug when he asked Hob if he’d won the bet, Morpheus looks- almost equally satisfied when he learns Hob hasn’t experienced a whirlwind six day long romance.

But he lets it drop, after that, and they fall back into their new-old pattern, and all is right with the world.

“You know I nearly drowned once?” Hob asks.

In hindsight, it’s not a thing he should have asked while leaning out over a large pond because he swears that’s an ancient, sunken paddleboat in the middle of it and he wants a better look. Morpheus grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backwards almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as though past near-drownings make Hob more susceptible to a watery grave.

“In a wave pool, yes,” Morpheus says, steering Hob away from the water’s edge. They’d been on their way to a museum, but Morpheus, for unknowable and mysterious reasons, had decided they should detour through this park on the way.

“Oh, no, after that,” Hob says, still craning his neck for a look at the sunken maybe-paddleboat. “I was like- sixteen? Got stuck under a boat when it flipped.” They reach the gravel path leading away from the water, and Morpheus lets Hob’s arm drop with noticeable reluctance.

“Just how many times have you nearly drowned?” Morpheus asks, as they trudge back toward the main path through the park.

“Uh. Two?” Hob replies. “The wave pool doesn’t count.”

“The fact that you think that is not reassuring,” Morpheus informs him, and will not budge on the issue no matter how much Hob tried to convince him that it doesn’t count as drowning as long as no one calls an ambulance.

The argument lasts them the rest of the way through the park, on a meandering route that doubles back on itself at least six times, across city streets to the museum, and through the queue for tickets. At that point Hob concedes. Not because he is wrong. He is not wrong, the other times didn’t count, but he has accepted the reality that he cannot possibly convince Morpheus of this fact.

Besides, the lure of keeping up a stupid argument shrivels and dies the moment Morpheus directs them out of the lobby area, past signs for the Theater Through the Ages exhibit, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. Hob doesn’t know what could have withstood the thrall of watching Morpheus stare at an old manuscript, a soft smile on his face. He wants to see Morpheus look this happy every day. He wants to be the reason for it.

He wants to soak in that expression for as long as he can, and that one he manages, trailing Morpheus through the exhibit like a lost puppy, absorbing exactly nothing of the room they’re in or the helpful signage or the contents of the cases. The windows could look out on the surface of Venus and there could be a sea monster in the corner giving directions and Hob would be none the wiser.

It takes Morpheus a while- Hob’s not keeping track of a stupid thing like time- to stop being dazzled by the exhibits and notice that Hob is dazzled for other reasons, but when he does he- crumples, just a little.

“You’re bored of this,” he says, as though this is an established fact Hob’s been politely not mentioning this whole time.

“No!” Hob says, “I’m not bored at all, just-” and then, thankfully, his mouth grinds to a halt before it can say any of the things his brain wants to. “A little lost?” he finally mumbles, once he’s managed to shove aside oh god please smile at me again and or climb me like a tree and actually have a conscious thought.

If nothing else, ‘lost’ has the benefit of being true, if not The Truth.

“Oh,” Morpheus says, somehow crumpling even further. A nauseous wave of self-loathing washes over Hob, for causing the light in Morpheus’ eyes to shrivel in on itself, he should have said all the stuff about oh god please smile at me again because at least that would be better than this-

“What’s that one about?” Hob says, a half step too loud, pointing at the nearest old book in a glass case.

He is, in hindsight, extremely lucky that he managed to point at a display and not a fire extinguisher.

Morpheus looks startled- Hob isn’t sure if that’s due to the words themselves, or just the volume- but turns to the case, Hob mirroring him, and begins to explain that it’s one of the few surviving volumes of a medieval playwright’s work. The explanation is stilted at first, Morpheus glancing over at Hob every few seconds as though expecting him to have turned away in disgust, but the smile slowly creeps back onto his face as Hob nods along, occasionally nudging at him to explain more.

It's Hob’s accomplishment of the year, maybe, coaxing that smile back to life, and he hangs onto Morpheus’ words like they’re oxygen as they meander through the rest of the exhibit.

The why of it all doesn’t phase him for the next several hours, because he doesn’t have time for intense self-examination. Not with Morpheus’ presence turning his mind into a dizzy slush, like his brain is made up of sunshine and honeybees and a persistent, thrumming notice me notice me notice me. Not with Morpheus failing to look aggrieved as they wander through a gallery of paintings, Hob critiquing each of them based on the presence of action and interesting animals.

Not when Morpheus grabs them each a drink at the museum café, giving Hob the chance to sneakily buy him a magnet from the gift shop, not when he looks so surprised when Hob hands him the little gift bag.

It’s only when they part ways that Hob catches himself smiling at his coffee cup, and the name Murphy in scratchy handwriting on the sleeve.

Well, shit, he thinks.

It had been easy, before, to let the tiny crush he’d been nursing wither and die. But now Morpheus is feeding it, refusing to let Hob pay for his own coffee and listening to him make stupid jokes about art history, and it has, accordingly, roared back to life, made itself comfortable in Hob’s heart.

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 8: Bear Cubs

Words: 4.1 k

Summary: New opportunities present while ghosts from your past reappear.

a/n: The closer I get, the harder it becomes to write i don't know what it is but I hope you still enjoy. Commenting is always appreciated!

PS. Reader is latina in this cause Carmy seems like the type of man to appreciate a little melanin, okay!

WARNINGS: Smut ahead, oral sex (male receiving),semi public, minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

Summer came into Chicago with rain. Endless droplets poured in all directions with help from the constant wind, soaking everything and anyone that found themselves unlucky to not find shelter in time. You would regularly find the rain charming, relaxing on a day when all you had to do was enjoy the rhythmic patter and drown yourself in cups of tea. However, you dreaded the days when you had to go out and your sneakers were not a barrier thick enough to keep your socks from absorbing all the moisture that splashed onto them.

The rain from that day had fallen extra heavy, enough that you had to pad around in your socks once you reached the gallery and wait for your sneakers to dry.

“How about these?” Marjorie asked, standing over the set of frames laying on the floor.

“Aren’t they a bit too grim for a charity event?” You asked with your head tilted as you inspected the set of six paintings that depicted the progress of a horse’s rotting corpse.

“Yeah…” She hummed then advanced to the next set of frames with you padding behind her. “Y’know I was thinking..call me nosy, but I’ve been taking a peek at your canvas in the back..” She confessed and your eyes shot from the golden shades of a sunset to her face.

“I’ve uhm, been staying a little longer after closing… I hope it’s not a problem..?”

“No, of course not!” She answered and a wave of relief washed over you. “I actually wanted to offer you the last spot.” She said simply, turning to you with a stop.

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to process her words. “I’m sorry, what?” You asked through a nervous laugh, ‘there’s no way I heard right’, you thought.

“Well, Joy sent me a couple pictures of your works before hiring you and the one in the back sealed it. Your style is absolutely lovely and I believe you could make a great closing set for the showing.”

The moisture in your mouth had evaporated and traveled up to your teaducts where it threatened to spill. You felt like a fish out of water with the way your mouth kept opening and closing because, even though your head was racing with thoughts, none seemed to want to come out.

“You don’t need to decide now, of course, but I do need an answer by next week or we’ll have to go with the decapitated horse-”

“No! No, no I’ll do it!” You said with too much excitement to keep still, throwing your arms over her delicate shoulders. “Thank you Marge, thank you!”

She laughed along with your excitement and softly rubbed your back. You mentally reminded yourself to call Joyce and thank her for the push of bravery she had given you.

“D’you think I’ve given you enough time?” She asked after letting her go and beginning to pick up the paintings that you wouldn’t be using anymore.

“Yeah- no, I think three months is more than enough.” You assured, with the ideas already swirling in your head.

“And if you know of anyone who can cater, let me know. God knows what some people have in their heads these days that they wanna charge you your firstborn for a few canapes! Ridiculous!” 

She began ranting on how some places wanted to charge more for their reputation than the actual quality of the food and you immediately thought of offering The Beef. Sure, the menu wasn’t nearly as luxurious as needed to cater a charity event held yearly for Chicago’s socialites to feel better about ‘giving back’, but you were more than confident in their ability to handle the challenge - especially considering that Carmy came with a built in reputation from his time in various awarded restaurants. So with a little push in the right direction, you pulled out your phone and after browsing through his feed, you showed her pictures of a few dishes he had crafted.

“Oh, wow.” She marveled, adjusting her glasses over her head. “That is beautiful…”

“I can ask him when he’s free for a test try if you want. They could really benefit from the promotion.” You confessed.

“Yes, please. Tell me when your ‘friend’ is free.” She teased and you’re glad your hair covered your beet red ears. You nodded in response, face beaming with a smile.

“Hmm, I see you two all lovey dovey when he picks you up, you make a beautiful couple, by the way.” Marjorie whispered, then sweetly patted your blushing cheek.

You finished picking up the paintings and wrapping them up for storage in the back, then said goodbye for the weekend and made the short walk in the rain to the restaurant, where you had agreed to help out for the rest of the day. 

You reached The Beef huddled under your blue umbrella and by the back door, you shook out your hair from the few droplets that managed to wage their way through. The team was just about to take family by the time you crossed into the kitchen and greeted everyone leaving their stations. You found Syd and Carmy by the front, discussing some new dishes she wanted to add to the menu but he wasn’t quite sure about. You didn’t want to interrupt so you stood a couple feet behind, waiting for their conversation to end.

“Can we please just discuss this later, chef? I plan on adding it -I really do- but new dishes means new products and that means spending money we don’t have right now.” He said while rubbing his temples in frustration.

“I thought you said we finally had a parachute?”

“Yeah and it’s barely keeping us afloat as is. If we spend any more now, we’ll need a fuckin’ miracle to keep this place open.” He whispered harshly, looking around until he spotted your head behind Syd. 

“Go take family, okay? We’ll talk about it later.” He ended the conversation then stalked up to you and leaned down to whisper “Can I see you in the office in a sec?” 

His stare was so intense that all you could do was nod slowly up at him and when he walked away and you turned to Syd, her expression was just as confused as yours. 

“Try to keep it in your pants, maybe.” She said amused, crossing her arms and leaning against the expo.

“Who knows, maybe I can get your risotto on the menu.” You answered back with a wink and turned to walk in direction of the office. 

“That would be a miracle” You heard her whisper before turning the corner.

Carmy had his back to you when you entered the office. One hand rested tensely on his hip while the other seemed to rub away an incoming headache. You closed the door softly, then moved to rest your forehead on his strong back and caressed with open hands from his sides to his abdomen.

“Everything okay?” You asked, but the ragged breaths you felt him take were enough of an answer.

He took your hands and pulled them  tighter around himself as he let out a sigh. “It never is, is it?” He answered with a slight snigger while turning in your arms and taking your head in his hands to kiss you.

You smiled into the kiss and as a sudden idea popped into your head, you began pushing him back until he dropped onto the squeaky old office chair. He smiled confused when you disconnected your lips to turn the lock on the door, then moved back to his side.

“Well I may have two good news that might cheer you up…” You spoke in a sultry voice as you stroked from his chest up to his shoulders and back down. “...but maybe they can wait ‘till after.”

“After what…?” He asked, however, his question was answered the second you stepped in front of him and dropped to your knees without a word.

Carmy straightened up and sucked in a sharp breath at the stunning sight of your torso resting between his parted thighs. You kissed him again more fervently and scratched  a trail up, over the hard denim of his black jeans and to the buckle of his belt.

He sighed your name between kisses. “-Everyone’s outside..” 

A cheeky grin spread over your face as you finished undoing the button on his jeans. “Don’t make too much noise, then.” You purred with a scrunch of your nose, holding his gaze for a few seconds to make sure he was okay with it.

“No one’s ever…”

“I can stop if you don’t-”

“No-no, I just…” He licked his bottom lip and let out a breathy laugh looking into your eyes. “I kinda had a dream about this… once.” He spoke slowly and a red tint covered his face.

Your smile grew even wider at the thought of poor sweet Carmy, dreaming about you blowing him in his office and how now you were kneeling -very real- in front of him. You palmed him through his jeans with connecting sight and it surprised you how hard he already felt under the denim.

“Well then, I’m flattered to be your first.” You whispered.

Carmy’s Adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he swallowed dryly as you released him from the pressure of his jeans. His eyes were fixated on each of your movements, the way your lip caught on your teeth and how warm your hand felt over his throbbing cock. You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled one last time before bluntly licking a stripe along the length of his velvet skin.

“Sshit-” He hissed, throwing his head back, then remembered the team was only a few yards away and bit the inside of his cheek to muffle the remaining sounds.

The soft skin of your hand stroked him at a slow pace, while the other massaged his thigh tenderly. You gave the pink tip a couple kisses, the taste of his precome coating your tongue, then wrapped your lips over it and sucked him into the warmth of your mouth. His hands had fisted at the side of your face, knuckles gone white from contained strength as you bobbed your head rhythmically. 

“I’m not gonna break, y’know?” You breathed out while your hand continued the steady movements. “Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a second before reaching out to feather his thumb over your bottom lip, then extending his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck and pushing you down, back to his lap. You swallowed him gladly, the force of his strong hand applied a new pressure that made you take him even deeper than before and the knot in your abdomen tightened. His soft groans were muffled by the skin of his palm as he clamped it hard to ensure no one outside the room could hear him and how he was falling apart under you.

The thought was ravishing, to have this strong, fucked up and touch starved man trembling in pleasure from just your mouth made your chest swell with pride and your cunt squeeze in anticipation. Too bad you didn’t have enough time or you’d gladly throw everything on the desk to the ground and let him take you on it. You let your thoughts run wild with the idea, speeding up the pace to replace the growing ache between your legs.

His hips stuttered with the constant movements of your tongue and the grip he had on your hair tightened, teeth biting down on the back of his hand from the overstimulation. He knew he was close, but could do nothing more than keep pushing your head down and his hips up to continue the friction. His stomach spasmed with the force of his breaths, you took your hand from his thigh and slipped it under his shirt to run your nails over the sensitive skin.

“Jesus Fuck-” He groaned into the skin of his hand and that was the only warning you got before the thick hot liquid trickled down your throat in short bursts.

Carmy’s grip loosened over your head and you pulled away but kept flicking your hand slowly to ride out his orgasm. His head was thrown back and covered in a thin layer of sweat, the tense expression on his eyebrows long gone. He hissed softly when you put him back into his jeans, the cotton of his boxers too rough on the sensitive skin.

“Better than your dream?” You teased while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and standing back up.

He let out a relaxed laugh and pulled you by your hips, kissing over your clothed stomach. “Like, by a thousand.” He responded, then pulled you down and groaned into your mouth when he tasted himself. “D’you think they’ll notice if we bail?” He asked against your lips.

“Yo, horndogs! Put your clothes back on and come out! We open in ten!” You heard Richie’s booming voice through the thin wooden door, followed by heavy knocks.

“I think that’s your answer.” You kissed him one last time and turned to the door, readjusting your hair.

“You never told me the good news…”

‘Right, that’s what I came in here for…’

“Remember the charity event I told you about?” You asked and continued once he nodded in agreement. “Well Marge offered me the last spot.” He stared blankly at you. “My paintings are gonna be auctioned at the event!”

He took a split second to react, but soon his brows raised in surprise and he circled his arms around your waist, lifting you from the ground in a tight hug.

“Baby, that’s great! I’m so fuckin’ proud of you!” He cheered, kissing the top of your head. You felt as if the skin on your cheeks would rip from the force of your smile.

“Wait that’s not all-” You laughed as you freed your head from his grip and looked up at his beaming face. “I may have gotten you guys the catering gig for the event.”

“Wait, seriously?” His grip loosened around you and you took advantage of that to turn to the door and step outside to wash your hands, Carmy following close behind.

“Mhm! She wants to see some options first, but I just know you guys are gonna kill it, so it’s practically in the bag.” 

“What’re we gonna kill?” Marcus asked, popping his head around the corner of his station and causing a laugh to leave your chest.

You turned to a silent Carmy. He leaned on the wall with his hand resting over his chin and smiling mouth. You mouthed a slow ‘what?’ that he just answered with a shake of his head and wrapped a single arm around your shoulders, kissing your head again and whispering a soft ‘Thank you’ into your hair.

He let you go after a few seconds and you walked to the front with a glowing smile, setting up for the presumed ‘hectic day’, though with the way the sky seemed to be pouring down, you doubted anyone would be stepping foot inside.

**********

You were wrong, so very very wrong. But you would not let anyone know that as you took what seemed like the thousandth order, especially not Richie - who was already having a day picking jokes at you. ‘Haven’t seen you in a month hun, got a lot of ‘em saved up’ he said two minutes after walking through the door.

“What can I getcha?” You asked the next person in line. 

Greetings had been lost, maybe fifty or sixty customers back, when you switched with Richie so he could wait on tables because the ipad had gone ‘crazy’ and it was ‘messing with his vibe’, or whatever the fuck that meant. So after clearing the screen from the usual grease, you took his place by the til and began taking the overwhelmingly large amount of orders. 

It was only until the rain turned into a light drizzle, when the line grew shorter and the room less crowded, that you finally felt your phone vibrate with an incoming call from an unknown number. 

“Richie! Cover for me, I gotta take this!” You called over the noise without waiting for an answer and walked into the kitchen with your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

A sudden rush of sharp chills prickled through your skin as the voice on the other end called your name. 

“I-Isaac?” You asked, taken back because there was no way in hell that it could be him, not when you had blocked every one of his attempts to contact you.

“It’s been a while…” He said and you could hear the sly smile behind his words.

You felt the remains of your lunch slowly burn a path up from your stomach.

“Yeah, let’s keep it that way.” You answered as frigid as possible before hanging up and lunging to the bathroom to spill the undigested meal.

“Yo hurry up, I need to- shit you okay?!” You heard Richie’s voice over by the door you had forgotten to close.

You spit the last taste of bile from your mouth and flushed before putting down the seat and slouching defeated over it. The sudden squeak of kitchen shoes vibrated and soon Syd’s head appeared behind Richie.

“Shit- hey you okay?!” She asked at the same time Richie said “So… what- you pregnant?”

“She’s not pregnant you fuckin’ moron!” She yelled at him and pushed him out, closing the door in his face. “You’re not pregnant, right?” She asked, immediately squatting beside you.

“No Syd! I’m not fucking pregnant!” You answered through soft sniffles. 

“Okay… what's wrong then?”

“Isaac called me.” You said after a few moments of silence.

“Psycho ex, Isaac?”

“Psycho ex Isaac.” You confirmed with eyes fixated beyond the floor and legs bouncing in anxiety.

“Okay… chill it’s not like he’s gonna come looking for you.” Syd said, trying to calm the evident panic attack bubbling under your skin. “Besides, Carmy wouldn’t let him stand in a ten mile radius of the restaurant, anyway.”

Your head shot up from the floor to look at her with worried brows. 

“Because he does know…right?” She asked and the look of guilt slapped on your face was enough of an answer. 

She threw her head back and stood with her hands on her hips. 

“Dude, why haven’t you told him?!” She sneered with a whisper. 

“I-I just couldn’t find the right moment-“

“There is no right moment! Just gotta throw in the bomb and hope for the best!”

“Yes I know, Syd! But I just- I couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking the worst of me, okay?!” You stood up from the seat in defeat and wiggled in the small space to reach the sink and rinse your mouth from the bitter taste. 

“And now it’s gonna be worse cause you’ve waited this long.” Syd whispered behind you. 

Three knocks at the door interrupted your answer and you looked up at Syd with a terrified look in your eyes. She mouthed a frantic ‘what do I do?’ before calling out a wobbly ‘uh… busy!’.

“I know you’re both in there, open up.”Carmy called with a heavy sigh. 

She shrugged her shoulders apologetically and opened the door to a worried Carmy. 

“Cousin said you were throwin’ up, everything okay?” He asked as Syd slid past him through the narrow opening, turning to you and pointing with  wide eyes towards Carmy. 

“Fucking Richie… yeah, something I ate, probably.” You tried saying while patting  cold water on your skin to reduce the heat rising rapidly. 

“Sure? You don’t look too good…”

He turned you to him by your shoulders and cupped your warm cheeks in his hands, looking over your face in concern. 

“Yea- yeah, ’m fine. Probably just a one time thing.” His eyes roamed over your face with a creased brow, not fully convinced of your statements.

“You can head home if you’re not feelin’ up to it…” he suggested. 

“And miss your stupid cousin telling everyone I’m pregnant, yeah no chance.” You said with a smile and the slight crinkles by the side of his eyes returned. “Besides, they’re gonna start thinking you got favorites.” You joked and laid your head softly over his chest so he couldn’t see your own worried expression. 

He rubbed your back slowly, the measured rise and fall of his breathing calmed you down, but only slightly. You could still faintly hear Isaac’s voice bounce off the walls in your head, overpowered by Richie chanting through the kitchen about the little bear cub you were gonna have, and -for the first time since you met him- you appreciated the loudness of it.

The rest of your non-shift passed by in a blur of grease covered sandwiches and slight forming headaches, courtesy of the lack of  food in your stomach and Richie’s constant teasing. There was a point in the afternoon, where your patience had grown too thin and you ended up punching him hard on the arm. It did nothing to him, of course, but it did help in reducing your stress on the train ride back to Carmy’s place.

“Maybe I should get some rain boots…” You commented after making your way inside the empty apartment and immediately kicking off the damp shoes.

“What, like Coraline?” He asked from the kitchen, surprising you. “What?” He asked again when he saw your amused expression. “You think I just watch food movies?”

“I dunno, I assumed you’ve seen Ratatouille but that’s like about it.” You joked.

*********

Carmen had probably used his stove a total of three times since moving back and before you started spending the night regularly, not counting that time he almost set his kitchen on fire while sleepwalking, but you didn’t need to know that. He even made an effort to keep his fridge stocked with other things that weren’t half full cans of Coke or stale bread and that he could actually make into a real meal.

When you arrived home -cause that’s what he liked to call it now- you tried to convince him that it wasn’t necessary to make dinner. But you hadn’t eaten anything all afternoon and it would have been completely fine if he didn’t know, but he did, and letting you go to bed on an empty stomach was not even an option that crossed his mind. 

He liked cooking for you. It was the only way he could express how he felt. When words seemed too complicated to string together in coherent sentences, that stuck like thick honey to the roof of his mouth, he cooked them. Whisked them together with a bit of salt and pepper then fried them until crisp, and fed them to you on his best tableware; hoping this way you could understand all the messages his mouth failed to explain. 

‘Only if you eat with me’ You had whispered as you took the skillet off the flame for the second time, a determined glow heavy in doe eyes and he knew that in a relationship with two people pleasers, arguing over who cared more for the other would be a lost cause. So he settled on making something quick and joined you on his small living room floor, where you sat with your feet wrapped in a blanket, computer and a couple of his cook books, drawing out ideas on what he could offer for the gala.

“Don’t we still have, like, three months?” He asked with a heavy sigh that came from stretching out his tired legs.

“Yeah.. but this way you’ll have more than enough time to see what works and what doesn’t.” You shrugged your shoulders and took a bite from your plate.

He chewed in silence, mesmerized as you lost yourself in the rabbit hole of all the different options they could serve for the event, flipping through his books and putting little colored post-its on the ones you liked the most. He had never seen you this excited and it brought a feeling to his chest that, if he didn’t know it was because of you, he’d probably confuse with heartburn. 

Still, he couldn’t shake the looming sensation off his shoulders, the idea that something lurked around the corner, waiting to pounce. Like how he felt before Sugar called him about Mikey, and when he first learned that The Beef was now his. 

For his peace of mind he decided to blame it on anxiety, he had grown so used to always being alert that his body felt wrong when it wasn’t. 'Its probably just a gut feeling' he thought, and he was never that good at reading his gut, anyway.

Chapter 9.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha and that’s it lmao

[augustvandyne]

oh here’s another addison thought

reader and addison start getting on, reader helping and assisting in surgeries. reader isn’t an intern tho.

reader gets a feeling addison likes her, addison does but she is Scared™️

and then addison goes to LA :(

and reader goes to her, last ditch attempt. “why did you leave me?”

angsty.. i like it

why did you leave?

You were Addison’s fellow. You were in your final year of residency when Addison made her big entrance, and you stood idly by as you watched everything with Derek, Meredith and her go down.

As soon as your options for fellowships opened up, you made sure you were to study under the Addison Montgomery.

She was kind of rude to you at first, as she was going through the final stages of her divorce, but she did finally open up to you and let you in on surgeries. And then, the two of you were closer than ever.

You did a lot of the surgeries with her, led them too.

Addison and you ate lunch together almost everyday, because all your other friends ate lunch while you were in surgery, so Addison would offer to eat with you.

“But Callie is sitting over there. You should go sit with her,” You would shrug and take a seat in the back of the cafeteria.

“I can’t leave you alone,” Addison huffed and sat beside you. “Besides, Mark will sit with Callie.”

You smiled appreciatively, “Okay. Only if you want to.”

You’d also go to the bar with her, and sometimes even get dinner with her if your schedules aligned. The two of you even got together for Christmas and exchanged gifts. Mostly because neither of you had any blood relatives in Seattle, and found comfort in each other.

She got you a necklace, and you would play with it when you got nervous. Addison would notice and try to comfort you, but she was beginning to think it was her that did it.

“Stop,” She removed your hand from your necklace. “You’re going to make a mark on the back of your neck from tugging on that.”

You’d let out a breath, “Sorry. It’s just the nerves.”

“Oh?” Addison lifted her brows, sitting beside you on the abandoned bed in the hallway. “What’s going on today?”

“An old friend is coming down to see me,” You shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Sure it is,” Addison swallowed down the negative thoughts and her own anxiety. “How long did you know them?”

“It’s a she, and I knew her my whole life before I moved out here. She was actually my first kiss.”

Addison nodded, pretending to be busy with the hair tie on her wrist.

“Hey, listen,” Addison turned her head, and she thought she might have told you about her ongoing feelings, but something else entirely comes out. “I’m going to visit a friend in LA next week. Could you watch over my patients? You’ll work under another neonatal surgeon while I’m gone. It’ll only be a day or two.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

She was gone for more than two days, and she didn’t answer any of your messages while she was gone. She came back almost a week later and she was different.

Addison told you about how she met a guy down there and that she missed her best friend, Naomi.

You stood by and tried to be supportive, you smiled and pushed the jealousy down, because even though you didn’t want to, you felt the same way she did.

She was tanner than when she left, and her red hair was a lighter shade now.

“It was nice down there,” She told you. “I think you’d like it. Because you love beaches.”

Your heart throbbed at the fact that she remembered something you told her the first time she talked to you.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. L/n,” Addison threw her gloves in the trash.

She barely called you that anymore, but right then she did, and it hurt like hell. For some reason you didn’t believe you’d see her the next morning. And your hunch was right.. because you didn’t.

You didn’t even know what you were doing, honestly. You just got the urge to leave Seattle for a few days, and you took yourself to LA.

You were at a local market when you spotted her.

She looked amazing. She’d cut her hair, and it was now to her shoulders. She was still tan like she was when you last saw her, but her hair was back to her normal red color.

She looks at you, and you think she might not even recognize you at first. Because truth be told, it had been almost a year since she’d left, and she’d built a life for herself out here.

Or so you hear through Callie.

You look down at the blueberries you were messing with, suddenly trying to look busy.

“Y/n..” Addison approached you, but you didn’t look up. “What are you doing here?”

“Um..” Your voice shakes, and you’re not sure if you’re going to be able to talk. “I needed to get out of Seattle for a few days.”

“I know the feeling,” She chuckles.

The sound of her voice and laugh makes your body tingle from your head to your toes.

“I’m sure,” You say bitterly, picking up a carton of blueberries so you can hopefully leave this conversation behind.

She just follows behind you as you make your way to the vegetables, “So.. uh.. how are you? How’s— how’s Seattle?”

“I’m fine,” You shrug.

“Are you still working in the neonatal field?” You see her hoist her bag higher on her shoulder from the corner of your eyes. “Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” You grit your teeth. “I’m here because I needed a few days away from Seattle, I told you. I didn’t mean to drive here, I just put my brain on autopilot, and it brought me here. I didn’t even think about you being here until now, okay?”

Your voice is soft and it’s scaring you because you hold nothing but anger for Addison. So the fact that you’re speaking in a sweet tone..

“It was nice seeing you,” You attempt to get her out of your head again, but it doesn’t work.

“Do you wanna.. I don’t know.. meet for drinks tonight?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You clench your jaw, trying to keep yourself from saying something you know you’re going to regret.

“Y/n, look at me,” You hear Addison’s voice wavering like yours had only minutes ago.

You manage to pull your eyes away from the fresh produce and to her face, and it’s hard for you to look her in the eyes, but you manage.

Her hand comes up to touch you on the face, and when it does, you flinch at her soft touch. Your breath catches in your throat, and you have to swallow down the lump in your throat so you don’t start crying.

“Why did you leave?” Your voice breaks, and tears are beginning to fill in your eyes, much to your dismay.

“I needed a change of scenery—“

“No,” You all but growl, you sharply inhale and press your lips together. “Why did you leave me?”

Addison’s eyes flutter, and her own eyes fill with tears. You’ve struck her in a wound she was so desperately trying to heal.

“Y/n..” She wipes a stray tear with the pad of her thumb, her palm resting on your cheek. “I didn’t.. I didn’t leave you..”

“You did, though,” You try to turn your head, but her hold on you is soft and strong. “You left me, and I didn’t even get a goodbye.”

Next think you know, she’s pulling you into a hug, one of her hands now on the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” Her mouth is by your ear.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” You sob into her shoulder.

She pulls back, both her hands making their way to your cheeks, “I had feelings for you, Y/n. And I know it was immature, but— I— I was scared that you didn’t feel the same and I had to get out of there.”

As if your heart hadn’t broken enough times in your chest since this interaction had started, it somehow broke again.

“Addie.. I did— do feel the same. Didn’t you see?”

“I didn’t want to assume—“

You lean up and place a kiss on her lips, “Well stop assuming, and start living in the moment with me. This has been the worst experience ever. I hate the new head of neonatal, and I think she hates me too. I wish you would have just talked to me..”

“I will from now on,” Addison promises, staring into your eyes.

“What?” You smile softly, all of your pent up hate for her slowly melting away. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, am I not allowed to admire you?” Addison tilted her head.

“No, you can,” You draw your brows together in amusement. “I like it, actually. But you want something from me.”

“I want another kiss,” Addison shrugged, shyness in her tone.

You laugh, “You’re adorable.”

“Thank you,” Addison nodded. “Now come on, I have a lot of people to introduce you to.”

“There it is,” You throw your head back.

[1-imaginary-girl]

I’ll Take Care of You Pt. 2

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Summary: You and Eggsy have continued seeing each other after the incident. The only problem is, Eggsy only sees you when he's injured. Will he find the courage to tell you how he really feels? Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Talk about minor injuries, but overall fluff again.

Word Count: 3824

Part 1

A/N: The second part is finally here! I rewatched "Robin Hood" recently and it got me back into the Taron Egerton headspace. God I love that man. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Eggsy is walking out of a Kingsman meeting and he can feel the fatigue settling into his bones. Without having a mission to focus on, spy work can be rather boring. Especially during meetings like those. He's trudging down the hall when suddenly, he feels a buzz from his phone. He takes it out and instantly a smile appears on his face.

He received a text message from you saying: Did your meeting kill you with boredom? :P

He laughs to himself before responding: It was fucking dreadful, but thankfully I will live to see another day.

Ever since that fateful night where Eggsy got hit by your car, the two of you have stayed in touch. He thinks he’s actually found a friend in you. It feels nice to have someone to talk to about being a spy, other than his fellow Kingsman agents. Maybe Eggsy shouldn’t be telling you the information he does, but he can’t help it. There’s something about you that makes him want to tell you everything and he knows he can trust you. And you already knew he was a spy, so he figured what’s a few more secrets to spill?

Eggsy loves having you in his life. The only thing he doesn’t love is that the two of you don’t really hang out other than when he gets hurt. Yes, Eggsy has continued to visit you, his favourite nurse, whenever he gets injured in the field. Once, he even paid you a visit after fighting practice with Roxy resulted in a nasty black eye. You didn’t appear mad at him for wasting your time, since all you could really do is offer him an ice pack. You just tended to him as you often did and the two of you talked the night away.

It isn’t even a conscious decision anymore to go to you. He just always finds himself making the journey to your place with a new injury. The first time it happened after the car accident, it was because he had gotten injured near your place and thought it would be easier than returning to base or even going home. But after a few visits, he found himself just wanting to be with you, injured or not.

After this realization, he began to feel bad about selfishly wanting you to be the one who fixes him. After all, you already spend all day tending to patients. So he told you:

“Are you sure you don’t mind fixing me up all the time? I’m starting to feel bad for inconveniencing you.” 

But instead of agreeing, you smiled at him and said, “Eggsy Unwin, you could never be an inconvenience. Don’t tell anyone, but out of all of my patients, you’re my favourite.”

His heart sped up at that, so he cracked a joke. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all your patients.”

“Only the handsome ones,” you replied with a wink that caused a shade of pink to bloom on his cheeks, but luckily you had returned to your work and didn’t seem to notice.

It was after that encounter that Eggsy had realized he was developing feelings for you that evolved past friendship. He had tried to chalk his feelings up to being platonic, but who was he kidding? He was falling for you, and falling hard. He thought about confessing to you, wondering if you felt the same, but it was too risky. Eggsy didn’t want to ruin one of the best friendships he had over feelings that are most likely one-sided.

“Is that Y/N?” A voice sounds from beside him, causing Eggsy to jump and almost drop his phone. So much for his spy training. “Tell her I say hi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, tucking his phone away and out of Roxy’s nosy stare. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, now walking beside him.

“Cut the shit, Unwin, I saw you smiling down at your phone with that goofy lovestruck smile that is reserved only for Y/N,” she says. Eggsy had never planned on sharing Y/N with Roxy, not wanting to risk you getting into trouble, but unfortunately for him, Roxy and Merlin are no good busybodies. The next day at work after the car accident, Roxy immediately bombarded him with questions about you. Apparently, when Eggsy informed Merlin that he was going to a random civilian’s house, the news was too interesting not to tell Roxy.

He also never planned on giving Roxy your name but having a friend that’s a spy is not convenient when keeping secrets. She had spied on him when Eggsy was texting you, the two of you having exchanged information that fateful day, and saw your contact name before he could stop her.

“I was not smiling, and I do not have a goofy lovestruck smile only for Y/N,” Eggsy tells her, but as soon as he says that, he wonders if he does. If his feelings are really that obvious.

“God, for a spy you really are obvious.” Sometimes he wonders why he’s even friends with Roxy.

“And for the last time, Rox, I am not in love with her,” he insists. 

“Is that why you won’t let me meet her? You’re afraid I’ll tell her? Because I can assure you, unlike yourself, I am quite excellent at keeping secrets.”

“For the record, I won’t let the two of you meet because I’m afraid you’ll scare her off,” he says, but he’s also afraid that Roxy might steal you away. Maybe you’d prefer a female spy friend over him. He doesn’t think you’re the type of person to do that, but his insecurities continue to hold him back, just in case.

Roxy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Unwin, just admit that you love her! I already know, and you won’t convince me otherwise.” Eggsy realizes how true that is when he looks over to see his friend’s dead serious expression. Fuck it.

“It’s not love, quite yet,” he admits, and Roxy giddily celebrates. Eggsy looks up and down the hall to make sure no one sees her. “What was that about being too obvious?”

But Roxy doesn’t hear him. “I knew it. I can’t believe I got you to confess, I thought I’d have to bug you at least a few more times about it,” she says with a smile on her face. He rolls his eyes.

“Well, now you know. Satisfied?”

She stays quiet for a moment before asking, “Why don’t you tell her again?”

“It’s not that simple,” he says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know how to explain himself without making him seem like a miserable sod. “She’s my friend. A good friend, and I don’t…” He sighs and stops walking. Roxy stops beside him. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Eggsy Unwin,” Roxy says, and when he looks her she has a serious arms-crossed look that makes Eggsy want to keep walking. “You’re not going to screw this up.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same?” he confesses and then realizes they should have chosen a more private location to be having this conversation. Luckily, there appear to be no other agents around.

“By the looks of your messages, I can almost guarantee she feels the same. On top of that, I’m your best friend and even I would get annoyed at having to fix you up after every fight,” she says.

“Sorry, exactly when did you see such messages?”

“Never mind that,” she says, brushing the topic aside. “The point is, I think she feels the same way. And even if she doesn’t, based on the limited knowledge of her, she sounds like the type of person to handle that well. You don’t have to worry about your friendship.”

What she said makes sense, yet Eggsy can’t shake the queasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of having to confess to you.

“It’s up to you what you do,” Roxy continues. “But would you at least consider it?”

He stares at her unyielding gaze, and relents. “I suppose.”

“Thank god. I don’t know how much more pining I can take,” she says and resumes walking.

“I do not pine!” he says, picking up his pace to catch up with her.

†††

A week later, Eggsy finds himself sitting in one of the Kingsman jets heading back to base after a long, but successful, mission. He’s lounging in one of the chairs, feeling proud that the mission had gone off without a hitch. 

His mission had been to retrieve some confidential information that had gone missing, but the retrieval ended up being fairly easy. The people who had stolen the information got lulled into a sense of calm and had lowered their security. Thanks to that, Eggsy had been able to be in and out of the compound, only having to take out a few people along the way. 

Eggsy feels the pride and relief he normally would but now he’s also filled with excitement. Typically, at the end of his more recent missions, Eggsy will have acquired a few wounds that need tending to and would drop by your place (if you were available, which most of the time you were.) Only, as Eggsy relaxes into the jet’s seat, his excitement suddenly dwindles. He lifts up his arms and examines his body to check, but this time Eggsy finds himself in perfect condition. No injury to be found. He slumps back into the chair.

This should be a good thing, as Eggsy isn’t always as careful as he should be, but he finds he’s disappointed. After all, now he didn’t have a reason to see you. He bites his lip and gazes out the window. He was really excited to see you and now there is a hole of dissatisfaction left behind.

He continues thinking about you, about what you’re doing right now, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s dialling your number. He only wants to hear the sound of your voice, even if he got your voicemail he would be satisfied.

On the third ring, you pick up. “How’s my favourite spy doing?” you ask as a greeting. He’s almost embarrassed at the butterflies that flutter in his stomach at your voice, and you calling him that.

“I don’t know, how is Bond?” He hears you giggle, brightening his already wide smile.

“Oh hush, no need to be jealous over a fictional character. And you were right, he is a bit posh for my taste.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “Well, your real favourite spy is feeling pretty fucking good right about now.”

“I take it the mission went well?” He had been texting you throughout the mission when he got bored. Merlin used to give him shit for it, but now he’s begrudgingly resigned to it, knowing that Eggsy had no intentions of stopping. As long as it’s only you.

“It went great! Everything went according to plan.”

“Sounds a bit boring.” He laughs, as he silently agrees with you. “Speaking as your nurse, however, I suppose this is good news.”

“What a lovely nurse I have. How did I get so lucky?”

Another laugh. “Right place, right time, right car I suppose.” He laughs. It took a while before you were able to laugh about hitting him with your car, as you still felt extremely guilty. But after reassuring you that he was over it, and constantly teasing you about it, you found the humour in it. “Seriously, I’m happy for you Eggs. You must feel great.”

“I do,” he says, despite the disappointment that lingered due to not seeing you. “Want me to tell you about it?”

“Duh!”

“Could you please try to leave out the classified bits?” Another voice sounds from the jet. Eggsy looks up to see Merlin passing by. He gives Eggsy a tired, worried expression. Eggsy smiles up at him.

“You can count on me, Merlin,” he says with a cheeky smile and a wink. Merlin simply rubs the bridge of his nose where his glasses sit.

“Is that Merlin? Tell him I say hi!”

“Y/N says hi,” Eggsy relays to him. Merlin’s face softens.

“Hello dear,” he says. Despite the nagging and scolding, Eggsy thinks Merlin likes you. The two of you have never met, but Eggsy suspects the older man believes you’re a good influence on him. Truthfully, it’s because you make Eggsy happy.

“He says hi back.”

“When are you going to introduce me to your spy family? Or is that against the rules?”

“I think it’s a little late to be considering the rules.” You laugh.

“Fair enough. Then what is it? Do you just want to keep me all to yourself?” Eggsy’s breath catches as you jokingly hit the nail on the head. He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t help the feeling of wanting to be yours. To remain your favourite spy.

“You caught me,” he says with a laugh to avoid the truthfulness from leaking through his tone.

“You can’t keep anything from me, my dear boy.” Again, his heart hammers in his chest. “Now enough chit chat, tell me about your mission.”

†††

Later that night, Eggsy is sitting on his couch, your phone call from earlier echoing in his mind. Even after hearing your voice, it didn’t quite satisfy his need to see you. He considers slightly nicking his hand with a knife when he catches himself. What is he doing? There’s nothing stopping him from going to see you right now except his own nerves. But if the two of you really are friends, then there’s nothing wrong with it, right?

“Fuck it,” he mutters to himself. Summoning up courage he doesn’t have, he stands up from his couch. What’s the worst that can happen? A deep breath, and he’s making his way to the door when suddenly he hears a knock. He pauses, wondering who it could be. It’s the middle of the night.

Eggsy cautiously walks to his front door and opens it, only to stop in shock. There, on his doorstep, is you. You’re here, at his place. Once that registers, concern overwhelms him as he takes in your state. 

You’re leaning against his doorframe with a hand pressed against your left side. You also brand a gash on your chin and a split lip. Despite all of this, a smile graces your lips. “Well isn’t this ironic?” you say as way of greeting. Eggsy’s still having a hard time believing he didn’t fall asleep and dreamt this. But your voice shocks him out of his frozen state.

“Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you?” he asks, opening his door. Shock is slowly giving way to worry as he watches you slowly make your way into his place, taking in the view.

“It’s actually a funny story,” you say. You make your way to his couch but pause to examine his living room. “Nice place you have here.”

Eggsy’s mind is going a mile a minute. He didn’t know what to do, but then he remembers that you’re injured. “I-I’ll go see if I have anything to patch you up with.” Before you can argue, Eggsy starts scrambling around his place trying to find what he thinks he would need. He ends up bringing a wet cloth, a bag of frozen peas, a package of bandaids, and some disinfectant cream that you had given him.

He returns to find you sitting on his couch, a pained expression on your face as you take deep breaths. As soon as you see him however, your face hides any trace of pain. He furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. He dumps the stuff on his coffee table.

“Whoa,” you say, taking in his collection. He becomes self-conscious since you’re an expert in medicine.

“I-It’s not much, I know, but it’ll do for now,” he says reassuringly. He takes a seat on the couch beside you. He knows about the injuries on your face but not your stomach. He eyes your side and you know what he’s thinking. “Could you lift up your shirt?”

“How forward of you,” you say with a smirk and he’s acutely aware that your roles have truly changed. He gives you a stern look, and you drop the smirk. You pull your shirt up to reveal your side and Eggsy sucks in a sharp breath.

“Jesus Y/N,” he mutters, examining the massive bruise. 

“I’m lucky it’s just a bruise,” you say, a wince on your face. Eggsy looks at you and forces your gaze to meet his own.

“What happened?” he says sternly. He knows you’ve been dodging around the subject since you got here. You blush, realizing that he’s caught onto your game. To distract you, Eggsy begins fixing you up. He gently places the frozen peas on the bruise and you gasp in pain, causing his heart to squeeze.

“I don’t know how you spy types do it,” you comment. He thinks about asking how you medical professionals do it, as seeing you in pain breaks his heart. But Eggsy won’t let you dance around the subject any longer. You let out a sigh as you hold onto the bag while Eggsy examines your other injuries. “So, it’s actually rather embarrassing, but…I was actually on my way to see you.”

His eyes widen. You wanted to see him too? He tries to catch your eye but your gaze is directed at anywhere but him. A deep red is encroaching on your cheeks. You clear your throat. “So anyway, I got in my car and drove over. I…I was a bit rushed so when I got out of my car I wasn’t paying much attention. That’s when this biker rounds the corner and rides right into me.” Eggsy finishes dabbing the wet cloth on your chin and begins to apply the disinfectant, causing a hiss to escape your lips.

“Sorry,” he says. He finally meets your eyes and it feels like he got the wind kicked out of him.   

“It’s fine,” you whisper, not breaking away from the stare. A moment passes before you look away and continue your story. “Anyway, he knocked me over and my left side hit the curb while my chin hit the pavement.” Eggsy winces for you. 

“Did the wanker at least apologize?” His voice is clipped, withholding his anger for your sake. Tending to you is all that’s keeping him from tracking down this man and inflicting the same pain he forced upon you.

"It wasn’t his fault, Eggs, I wasn’t looking." He nods but still isn’t satisfied. Accident or no, this man hurt you which stirred unpleasant emotions in his head. “He ended up falling over as well, but he had a helmet so ultimately both he and the bike were fine. We both apologized to each other, me for not looking and him for not steering away or stopping quick enough. He was actually really nice about it.”

To distract from the illogical flare of jealousy that rose within him, Eggsy decides to joke around. “Is this a habit of yours? Getting into accidents with nice men? You know, there are other ways of gaining a man’s attention.” His comments make you break out into a smile that instantly winces due to the split lip.

“First of all, shut up,” you say, causing him to laugh. “And second of all, I’ll have you know that I had a clean record before I met you. Perhaps you’ve begun to corrupt me.”

“Perhaps I have.” The two of you smirk and the flirtatious energy soon leaves a sharp tension in the room. Eggsy applies a large enough bandage onto your chin and now begins to dab on the cut on your lip. You’re close enough for your breaths to tangle. But before Eggsy makes a complete ass of himself, he has to know. “Why were you coming to see me?”

This question wipes the smirk from your face and reheats your cheeks. “O-oh, that,” you say, trying to find the words, it seems. “Well, the thing is…okay, after your mission, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was expecting to get a call from you saying you needed to be patched up. I-I had gotten used to it, so I was expecting to see you. But then the mission went fine.”

Eggsy can’t believe what he’s hearing. His heart begins picking up speed as he eagerly waits for you to continue.

“And I know I should have been happy to hear that—I was, I mean I hate seeing you hurt and I’m always the one telling you to be more careful.” You begin to ramble on and in your ramblings, Eggsy’s confidence grows. “I selfishly wanted an excuse to see you, but then I decided fuck it, and made my way over here. I-I just wanted to see you.”

You will no longer look at him. Your flirtatious confidence is gone as you let the unspoken words hang in the air. Looking at you, processing what you said, Eggsy realizes that there’s a chance. There’s a chance that you feel the same way, a strong one. And if there’s a chance, Eggsy’s going to take it.

“Y/N,” he whispers. His continued silence forces you to look at him and he hears you gasp softly at his proximity. He’s looking at you, flicking his gaze down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His eyes hold a question and you glance quickly at his lips before nodding.

Eggsy gently takes your face into his hands and crashes his lips down onto yours. You hiss and he breaks apart, feeling guilty for forgetting your cut, but you grab his collar and force his lips back on yours.

Eggsy sinks into the kiss, letting the passion take over and melt his body. He can’t think of anything else other than your lips, moving together, sweeter than his imagination could have predicted. When the two of you break apart, gasping for air, he breaks into a smile. You giggle, making him want to kiss you all over again to swallow the sound and live off it.

After a moment, you say, “If I’d known this is what it would take for you to finally make a move, I would have got hit by a bike ages ago.” You both laugh before Eggsy can’t hold himself back any longer and captures your lips again. You hungrily accept.

You kiss until you pull back, wincing in pain. “Totally worth it,” you whispers. He sighs as the cut on your lip reopens. 

“What am I going to do with you?” he says, shaking his head as he reapplies the cloth. 

“Nurse me back to health?” you say with a smile. He smiles back.

“Don’t you worry love, I’ll take care of you.”

[ataraxiaspainting]

(troupe member of your choice) reacting to a cheating accusation

“this is all a game to you isnt it?”

decided to do this request with machi! <333

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, thoughts of kidnapping the reader, manipulation, stalking, and implied violence (not on the reader).

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

If there was one word you could use to describe the expression on Machi’s face, it would be nothing more or less than slight horror.

It’s ever so subtle, like how an astrologer would count the stars and find one missing, or find another new one that went unnoticed in the moments before it, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed then, in the past, or the present or the future. But you have learned to read Machi, have learned from how messy her hairstyles were to tell how annoyed she felt at your neighbors, have learned from what hoodie she was wearing to tell how much she spent on gifts for you. Most of all, you have learned how to differentiate the different shades of blue her eyes can change into, become, simply from how the sun hits or from how tired she is. You can read her, but can she read you?

When two mirrors face each other, what does one of them see?

What does the other one see? Will they see themselves, or one another?

When you look into Machi’s eyes, her eyes stare back at you too, don’t they?

“...What?” She’s confused, caught off guard perhaps, at your question, from how she crosses her arms in a defensive stance to counteract the glare from your eyes.

“That friend of yours, Pakunoda… she’s with you a lot.” You don’t want to accuse your girlfriend of anything, but with how secretive she can be sometimes confrontation is the best solution.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’ve also… been avoiding me.”

“Have not.”

“You have!” You blurt out, hugging yourself even tighter as you continue to weep. “If you don’t like me anymore, just say so! She’s prettier and wealthier and obviously is a much better fit for-”

“[First], please calm down.”

Machi simply notes that your insecurities are getting the better of you again.

But why?

Then, everything she has seen today while following you to work clicks into her mind, this breakdown of yours being the final missing piece in this puzzle. It’s definitive.

An investigation of sorts, to see which clues fit in what order.

A familiar face comes into her imagination. Two, actually.

Then… the number goes up all the way to twelve.

But the two original ones stay under bright light, while the others are cast in shadow.

The green-haired girl from your job, the one that always seems to pick on you, and Chrollo.

Her boss speaks first. Even in her mind, a landscape that is supposed to be only hers, he always seems to be the early bird, putting a few words in before anyone else could.

Machi, I think you are too merciful to obstacles. Continuing to be that way will only slow you down even more.

She thinks on those words. 

Impulses spread around her like a mist. Impulses she has kept down for so long for your sake, your happiness, whether that be putting pills in your food when you visit her or slicing the throat of that man who catcalls both of you whenever you walk by him at that park you like frequenting when the weather is warm.

Then that girl’s voice comes into her ears, and the mist looks red and sticks to her palms and stinks.

You’re such a low score. That girlfriend of yours can do much better.

The urge, as dark as blood, for Machi to tear everyone who has ever crossed you limb from limb.

“...I’ll be back.” She turns around, walking toward your apartment door, the needles in her jacket pocket feeling even colder in her hands. “We can talk about this later, alright? Just please calm down.”

“...Don’t break up with me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She interrupts, gripping the doorknob so tightly she must focus on something else entirely to prevent her from breaking it.

“B-But then where are you going? If I’m not a good girlfriend just s-”

“Sh.” 

You sniffle. At the sight and sound, she is reminded of Pakunoda taking care of her when she was so young, crying and pulling on her sleeves, begging her to not leave her too. Those memories are bitter, most days, but sometimes they are all she can hold on to, to prevent herself from falling apart.

“Machi… you aren’t leaving me?”

“No. Never.”

“Then where are you going?”

She doesn’t answer.

You choose not to pry anymore, but the anxiety still gnaws at you from within.

Perhaps for a different reason. This gut feeling… It's horrifying. 

But you don’t know where this feeling came from. At least not yet, or maybe not ever, if Machi continues to have it her way.

[thepremedthatwrites]

On the House (pt. 3)

Summary: The Pevensies have decided to run a cafe together, a cafe that the reader has come to frequent every Saturday like clockwork. As time goes on, it becomes evident that a certain blond has started to catch feelings for the reader.

requested by @theonottsbxtch

part 1 | part 2

(Y/n) found her job boring. This was alarming because she had never felt this way before. In fact, she loved her job. The publishing industry was one of stiff competition and having a passion for the work was the bare minimum in order to be considered a competitive candidate. She loved being able to witness the process of a book being made, especially the beginning when the authors she worked with pulsated with excitement, knowing their life’s work was finally going to be revealed to the masses.

But she couldn’t focus on her work anymore. Instead, she went through the motions, unable to focus on anything except for the anticipation of the weekend. All her mind was set on was one thing. The Lamppost Cafe. Every Saturday all she could think about was going into the cafe at one o’clock and getting to see Peter again. Some days she even considered going earlier than her regular time but stopped herself, not wanting to see desperate in any way.

Ever since she learned his name, she kept repeating it to herself. She would say it to herself while making her morning coffee, or while she was showering. It was like a mantra for her. She even found herself waking up sometimes with the name still fresh on the tip of her tongue. As if she expected him to be laying on the other side of the bed, responding to her call. 

Saturday came at an agonizing pace but soon enough she was grabbing her bag and book before heading for the cafe. After slugging through the week, the walk energized her. She felt the wind blow through her hair as she went, her eyes wide with excitement as the cafe came into view. She didn’t hesitate to walk up to the register where Peter was waiting for her. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it felt as though his smile brightened as she neared him. “The usual?” he asked, already ringing her up.

“How did you know?” (y/n) joked, flashing him a smile. There was a pause as their eyes caught each other. He broke first, looking down at the register to read out the total. (Y/n) blinked a few times, as if it would flush away the pink that had started to grow on her cheeks. She began digging through her bag to find her wallet. “Actually, you know what, it’s on the house.”

“Really?” (y/n) responded. Behind Peter, she could his siblings pausing what they were doing and stealing quick glances at them. “Is there a certain sale today?”

“Oh no, it’s just you always come here. Think of it as us showing you our thanks for your support.” He let out a chuckle before flashing a quick smile. He was now rocking his weight back and forth and his eyes were back on the register. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you guys!” she responded, a bright smile growing on her face. “Thank you so much!” Peter looked up at her and she could tell his face was a shade redder than it had been when she first entered the cafe. 

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. (Y/n) let out a small giggle, remembering the first time he had said the strange phrase when he had brought out her order. “I’ll bring over your order once it’s ready.” She nodded before making her way to her usual table. 

As Peter walked towards the back, Susan said in a low voice, “I hope you’re planning on covering the cost for your girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah whatever. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yet,” Lucy added, chuckling as she started to steep the tea. Peter only scoffed before stealing a glance at (y/n). He hoped his face felt much more warm than it actually looked. If she had noticed his blush, he wouldn’t be able to face her again. How unprofessional it would be for a customer to believe he was flirting with her! Of course, he was only offering free food and drink because she was a regular. It wasn’t anything with romantic undertones. At least that’s what he would say if his siblings questioned him. But deep down, he knew the truth. He knew that he spent a bit longer getting ready on Saturdays and that as the clock neared one o’clock he took his place at the register even though he hated dealing with the confusing machinery that somehow always malfunctioned when he used it. 

“Well, are you going to give your girlfriend her order?” Susan asked, already putting the cup and plate into his hands.

“Quit calling her that, will you?” 

“Oh, do you prefer future Mrs. Pevensie?” 

“Very funny.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do my job.” He walked away before his sister could add one last remark. As he neared (y/n)’s table, he could feel his face warming once again. “Here’s your order,” he said, placing the stuff down onto the table.

“Oh, thank you,” (y/n) replied, putting down her book. 

“Haven’t you already read that one?” Peter felt his face become even warmer as he said that, realizing he had given away the fact that he had been watching her for the past few weeks. She let out a small laugh and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. 

“I fear I don’t have many books, so I cycle through them constantly.”

“Well, there’s a bookstore right down the street. Their prices are pretty low and they have a pretty wide variety of books.”

“Oh that’s sound wonderful. I should definitely check them out some time.” There was a pause. The girl looked up at him, the smile she was wearing turning somewhat playful. “This is the part where you suggest taking me to the bookstore.” She wasn’t sure where the confidence had come from but she was glad she said it as a wide smile grew on Peter’s face.

“I’m off tomorrow, does that work?”

“Perfect. We’ll meet here?”

“Is one o’clock good for you?”

“It always is,” she replied, smiling into her cup of tea as she took a long sip, the honey warming her throat on the way down.

[fan-goddess]

For kinktober:

Billy Washington x face sitting

Modern Aemond x getting caught

Tom bennettt x public sex

would adore if you could do these, I love your writing so much! 💕

Authors Note: thank you for these love and the compliment! Gonna do the Billy Washington x face sitting one here and I’ll do the other ones separately so it’s just easier. Thank you for waiting for this as long as you did, I realised I sort of did them in the wrong order ha still boo you like these ♥️

Warnings: Praising, f oral, face sitting, teasing, hint at m oral, (if I miss any let me know)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @helaelaemond @omgbrcat

You and Billy had been dating for quite some time now, and for the whole time, you’d noticed that he’d always been eager to please.

Whether that was with a nice hot cup of tea when you got back from a stressful day at work, or even just calling the local Chinese place for food when he could tell that you were too tired to try and attempt to cook anything that night.

It was also unsurprising to the both of you when you realised how eager to please Billy was in other areas of your relationship too.

“I’m back love!” You yell, chucking off your coat onto the hook and flinging your messenger bag somewhere by the sofa, before walking to the direction of the bedroom.

“Hey babe” Billy smiles, sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, so he can give you a quick affectionate kiss on the forehead.

“How was your day? Did you chat to Lana? I swear she said something about calling you sometime today… or it may have been tomorrow?” You muse, dragging Billy to the bed and laying down next to him, humming slightly in content as his arms wrap around you once more as your head rests on his chest.

“Yeah, spoke to Lana earlier. She’s doing alright for herself. Had a couple dates with that fella of hers and got another tomorrow. Had a call of the job centre too. Some mechanic place is hiring for apprenticeships and stuff and I got an interview next week.”

“Billy thats bloody brilliant!” You grin, bringing your hands up to cup his face before practically yanking him in for a deep kiss, chuckling slightly against his lips in amusement as you feel how eager Billy is for your kisses and general affection.

“I’ve got no work to do, so I’m free all afternoon for whatever you desire my love.” You grin, a mischievous smile painted on your lips as Billy’s own face turns a light shade of pink from bashfulness. It’s always fun teasing him and seeing the way he gets.

“Well, there is something I’ve been wanting to try for a while. Since you’ve been saying about me taking charge more-“

“Billy I don’t care if you’re more submissive or dominant in this relationship! I just care about you not thinking you need to bend over backwards for me! Cause I’ll be here no matter what kinks you suddenly pull out! Well, I will run for the actual hills if you suggest anything feet related, but that’s a different matter-“

“It’s not fucking feet love!” Billy laughs, the noise making your chest practically ache from happiness as the stress seems to somehow physically drain from his face.

You always loves Billy’s laugh. The small barely noticeable stress wrinkles you never tell him about seems to magically smooth away, and almost make him look strangely innocent.

“It’s… well… I wanted to maybe have you sit on my face…”

“You want what?” Your eyes furrow at Billy’s murmur. But when he repeats it louder and clearer, your breathes go ragged and you can already feel your legs clenching together in anticipation.

“I want you to sit on my face. So I can eat you out, till you can’t take it anymore…”

“Oh…” You hate how breathless you sound. But the thought of Billy doing that to you is doing too many unholy things to your head that you can’t help but bite your lip in deep thought. “Yeah… I think we can definitely do that baby.”

“Good!” It’s so precious how he smiles so bashfully in front of you. He’s like a whole new man. Like he didn’t just suggest something that made your face blush bright red from his request mere moments ago. “So get on my face now.”

Your heart feels as if it could explode with how hard your blood was pumping to your face right now, but you can’t help but nod eagerly to Billy’s demands and quickly strip yourself nude, your clothes flying all over the room as you focus on Billy, and Billy only.

You’re awkward in your movements at first, never having a man do this so intimate thing with you before, and yet Billy takes this in stride. Before you can even get to sit yourself on his chin, he grabs at your thighs and clumsily forces your whole body on his face, where you can’t help but grind slightly on as one of the most intense feelings of your life hits you.

It’s strange, to have Billy’s wet warm tongue piercing your wet cunt, and to have his nose simultaneously nuzzling your clit, but it’s amazing, perfect, and is honestly making you feel practically delirious.

Yet even with the intense feeling, the worry of suffocating your beloved boyfriend is more important. So when you try to lift yourself up a bit to give him some room to breath, you find yourself letting a loud sigh of surprise and pleasure as Billy only goes and pulls you straight back, holding your legs even tighter in his grip to stop you from moving.

“Don’t move again…” Billy murmurs, “Fucking gorgeous…”

You can only sigh in agreement, and can’t help yourself from grinding further on Billy’s eager face, completely disregarding your earlier worries. Your hands clasp desperately where they can, which in your case, is Billy’s shaggy hair that tickles your lower half slightly. Though when you tighten your grip slightly, you can feel Billy groan slightly as he eats you out, seemingly aroused by your tight grip on his body.

You quickly begin whining in approval though. “Fuck Billy so good for me!” Adoring the way he becomes to desperate to hear your praise, and the way his actions seem to quicken to appease you.

His own groans of pleasure may be muffled, but they certainly are enthusiastic, as the vibrations somehow seem to only heighten your pleasure.

You can feel the bed shake slightly, and when you turn your head slightly to look behind you, your mouth falls open on its own accord as you see Billy’s hard cock straining in his underwear. His hips even mimicking small thrusts in order to get some kind of stimulation for himself.

It’s almost endearingly amusing to you to see the small wet patch forming in his underwear from his own arousal. You think he could almost cum alone from eating you out. A thing you soon almost find yourself doing as Billy’s movements get rougher.

“Oh my god I’m gonna cum Billy!” You whine, your grip on Billy’s hair becoming rough as the knot in your stomach tightens, on the brink of bursting, only spilling over when you begin to rut your pussy on his willing mouth like a woman possessed.

It’s so intense, that you find yourself somehow more aroused and yet thankful with Billy’s tight grip on your thighs, that turns almost bruising as he makes sure you don’t almost fall off his face. And when your legs begin to cramp and you move to lay beside your lover and properly look at him, your breath feels like it’s been swept away as you see your juices shining all over his face.

You can feel your face burn red in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands as you try to hide your shyness. “Billy, you’ve got well, me all over your face love…”

You can hear him hum slightly and when you peak through your fingers to see what he does, your legs unconsciously clamp together seeing his tongue trying to pick up as much of you as he can, his fingers too trying to catch any he was unable to get with his tongue.

“You’re gonna kill me someday Billy Washington!” You grin, moving to give him a firm kiss on his damp cheek, and giggling when you see his beautiful bashful smile. The Billy you’re used too, the submissive Billy, coming back to you right before your eyes.

Speaking of your eyes, they once again trail to Billy’s crotch, where his cock still strains against the fabric of his pants with a distinct wet patch still drawing your main attention.

“Do you want me to help you out with that baby?”

“Only if you want to darling.”

Your hand teases the outline of him, your smile smug as he whines into the air. “Of course I want to sweet boy, I’d be crazy not to.”

[quibbs126]

Sorry if I’m overwhelming you with requests, but I was inspired by your recent post on Alchemist and Vampire’s entire deal. Could you do your interpretation of Alchemist and Vampire Cookie’s parents? I don’t know why both of my fanparent requests have been siblings.

I finally got around to finishing her, this is Doctor Cookie

So Doctor is an apothecary/pharmacist, not necessarily a doctor like Dr Bones, but she’s still a medical professional

She isn’t a vampire like Vampire, my idea now is that Vampire got his vampirism later on in life. She has however dabbled in the arcane arts, though she ultimately prefers science. Unlike her daughter she sees them on equal ground, it’s just a matter of preference

Outside of work she drinks a good amount of juice. She’s not an alcoholic like Vampire, but she’s usually drinking at least one glass after work. Though she started drinking more around the time of Vampire’s transformation

Doctor and Vampire do sometimes spend time just drinking, especially since Doctor has a lot of really good quality juice. She’s heard of Sparkling’s juice bar but she hasn’t quite gone there yet (it is one her list though)

Doctor has relatively expensive tastes, both in juice and fashion. She’s got plenty of money, so it’s not really a big deal for her

Okay I’m sorry, I’m in class right now as I’m writing, and I’m having difficulty focusing on this while also paying attention in class. So the description’s all funky and I don’t feel like I actually explained her personality right. But I don’t know how to. Maybe I’ll come back later and edit it, but I kind of doubt it

Let’s just move on to design stuff

So Doctor is based on merlot grapes, since they’re wine grapes. So somewhere in between grape juice and grapes I guess. And Merlot is also the name of a wine. She was originally just named Merlot, though I was planning on changing it to fit Vampire and Alchemist’s description names, and last night I had the idea to call her Doctor

Apothecary was I suppose and option, but I had already named an old OC Apothecary Cookie, and I didn’t want to repeat. Though now I feel like maybe Apothecary would have sounded better

Merlot grapes:

So I admit, her colors aren’t exactly the same as her kids, but I mean, her hair’s dark blue because of the grapes, and her eyes are red to break up the two colors. I guess just assume her kids’ colors are recessive or just due to the ingredients they’re made of

I based her grape hair off of Shine Muscat’s new costume, since I feel like that was a good reference for what I was originally going for. Though the shading was based on Alchemist’s hair

I gave her a big coat originally because doctors have big coats, but since I’ve already made two characters with doctor coats, I decided to just take liberties, and it’s basically not a doctor coat anymore. It’s fine though, it works. Also I feel like is matches in some way with Vampire’s cape and Alchemist’s coat thing, whatever she has going on

I was struggling with her accent colors, but eventually I decided to take one of Alchemist’s costumes as reference and give her the pink accents. Goes well with her eyes too

I kind of wish I could have put some greens in there, but whatever I guess

I think that’s it for her? I’m still in class, so I’m only half paying attention to writing this

Sorry for the not so good description, but I hope you like her regardless