#this fic may determine my retirement

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Sehnsucht (M)

Summary:

You and Wonwoo have been rivals since your first of University, and despite it being your final year, that rivalry doesn't seem like it's going anywhere soon when you both end up in German 101.

-

Tags: dub con, academic rivals to fucking academic rivals, mean!woo, both are super smart, german- BECAUSE OKAY IM IN GERMAN RN AND I WAS LIKE WHAT IF I ADD A LITTLE BIT OF GERMAN AND THEN I ADDED A FUCKING LOT SO language kink 😊, a HUGE abuse of the german language, ALSO IM IN GERMAN 101 SO GOOGLE WAS MY BEST FRIEND SO IM SORRY IF ANY OF IT IS WRONG I DONT UNDERSTAND VERB PLACEMENT, okay, Wonwoo is genuinely mean okay? Keep in mind, creampie, public sex because we know I love it, wonwoo rawdogs it, lots of teasing, brats all around, rough sex?

I did end up with my own German consultant, thank you @hyunjins-dimples and I did ignore some of their german language advice because I just did, anyways I will be ignoring any and all german language critiscism from anyone other than my beautiful, perfect, amazing, german friend tyvm : )

-

“Alright, and when you conjugate the verb komme, as in to come, where would you place the verb?” Your professor asked. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought as his gaze crossed over the class. “As in a sentence like. I go to Germany?”

You thought over your answer in your head, clearly for too long as suddenly your professors’ eyes were across the room.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Ich komme nach Deutschland.”

“Good!” Your professor said with a nod. You could feel a gaze land on you, and you didn’t have to look over to know that a smug look was being shot at you. You rolled your eyes and pressed your cheek into your hand. “In some sentences there are two verbs. Does anyone know what we would do if we had kommen and an in the same sentence. As in to say something about August?”

Your hand shot up before you could think about it. Your professor nodded at you, and you tried to cooly answer.

“Ich an komme im August?” You murmured, unable to keep the question out of your voice. You knew you had made a mistake when you heard a stifled chuckle from the other side of the classroom. And your professor’s eyes drifted to the side, his mouth falling open as he tried to find a nice way to say that you were wrong.

“Right well, if you said that it wouldn’t be quite right.”

You pressed your eyes closed in frustration as Wonwoo spoke without even raising his hand.

“It would be Ich komme im August an,” he said, and there was no doubt in his voice that he was right.

“Richtig, gut,” your professor praised lightly, before continuing to tell you all the nuances of where the verb was placed in sentences and when it should be where. You felt your fingers clasp at your apple pencil tighter and this time you looked over at the gaze across the room.

You glared at Wonwoo, wishing he wasn’t so good at this.

You had been fighting in classes with Wonwoo since your freshmen year of college. You weren’t sure how come your classes always collided so much. After all, he was an English major, and you were in Zoology. It didn’t make sense for you two to meet in so many classes, past of course, gen eds but regardless you saw Wonwoo practically everywhere that you went.

It was so frustrating. You hadn’t known him in high school and in high school you had been the valedictorian. You were in the honors college, and you already had plans on where exactly you were going to go for your Bachelors. So, when you sat down for your first Chemistry class, buzzing with the excitement of knowing exactly what you were going to say. You were a bit annoyed to find that somebody else was raising their hand just a millisecond faster than you were.

Your very first day in Chemistry ended up being a fierce race between you and this Wonwoo on who could answer the fastest, and you were both very good at Chemistry.

In every class that you two were in whether it be Chemistry, Biology, Writing, or gender studies and attitudes of the world, you and Wonwoo were sat down after about the second week with your professor, encouraged to let other students answer questions in class.

Sometimes you two just immediately turned to each other and whispered the answer at one another with sharp gazes.

So, you were a bit pissed when you sat down for German 101 at the beginning of your last semester and stupid Wonwoo was in your class.

How could you have possibly had at least one class with him every single semester at this university? Would it go on to grad school? Would you two be stuck at an internship together? God forbid you two visit Germany at the same time.

You shivered at the mere thought.

What was an English major even doing taking German? For goodness sake, you only chose the class because you thought it would be the last class he would be in.

And to add onto that, why the fuck was he so good at German?

It was German 101. Literally elementary German and sentence structure in German was confusing as hell so why was he finding it so easy.

You tried not to scowl too hard as you thought about it, wondering what gave him the right to just be good at everything he did. You would have to stay even later at the library tonight if you were going to manage to keep up with him.

After class, as you packed your things, you made a point to brush past Wonwoo, ‘accidentally’ bumping your shoulder into his. You never knew why you did that really. He was practically immovable.

You wondered if it was possible for him to study and workout at the same time.

Maybe he just didn’t work.

But you did and you worked quite a bit. Which meant jam sessions where you tried to force the material that you didn’t know down your throat in only a manner of hours.

Which meant you were at the library late a lot.

Not that, that was the only place that you ran into the asshole.

“You must be a bit desperate to even be studying at lunch time,” Wonwoo commented. You looked up from your little hole in the dining room- The one spot in the whole cafeteria that you felt completely comfortable in. Tucked in a corner where no one could see you.

You couldn’t hear the buzz of the students around you in this little corner booth, and you had every opportunity to just pull your legs up on the seat, and enjoy the world around you.

“What are you doing over here?” You hissed, instead of arguing the desperate allegations. You definitely were desperate, to be studying while you were eating lunch, and there was no point in arguing that.

Unfortunately for you, Wonwoo was a good study. And that meant that he had been able to study you over the years, along with all of his other assignments. Frustratingly enough, he always knew when you were lying. So, there was no point in trying to pretend like you weren’t.

“I just came to eat as well,” he stated.

He took a seat right next to you, forcing your feet to the floor. He didn’t have any food with him, and you wondered why that was until he reached around you and plucked one of the fries off of your plate.

“Hey-”

“What are you even studying?” He asked you. You rolled your eyes. Advanced biology.

“Nothing you would know,” you grumbled. He took a single glance at your screen, and mumbled the answer to the question that you felt like you had been thinking about for hours. You tried to keep your anger to a minimum. “Well, duh, that’s easy.”

How did he know that?

“If it’s so easy, why have you been here all day?” Wonwoo pressed. He didn’t even have his own things with him.

“Have you been stalking me?” You blurted, noting that it did sound a little shrill.

“No… I could just hear you trying to think from across campus.”

You started to spew insults at Wonwoo because, well, how else were you supposed to respond to him? But they fell on deaf ears. Wonwoo simply plucked a few more of your fries from your plate, and then walked away as if the conversation had ended ages ago.

You got your chance for proper payback a few weeks later.

When you saw that there was going to be a mandatory lecture for English majors by James Franco… Well, you just knew you had to be there. A study on english composition and how it is seen in history and therefore portrayed in film. You had been studying english and film in your free time for almost your whole life.

For you, it was a pipe dream… Which meant that if there was anything that you were going to show up Wonwoo in…

You excitedly sat next to him in the lecture hall, shooting him a bright smile despite the early hour.

“Coffee?” You offered him. Wonwoo looked exhausted, you’d heard there was a mandatory frat party the night before. Poor guy was probably up all night.

He gave you a suspicious expression while he looked at the cup, but he seemed to remember quickly that he was a bit too tired to say no to it. He took the cup and took a swig from it.

“Poison?” He asked you, even though you both knew you had ordered him his favorite kind.

“I’m thinking of a much slower death,” you replied lightly. You tapped the desk in front of you. “Aren’t you excited? James Franco… Wow, imagine that… One of the only notable PhD holders in English and he’s an actor.”

You seemed to think over your words.

“It’s almost as if being an English major is just a hussle for most people… Must be an easy way to get a doctorate.”

You kept your voice airy.

“How does that sound, Doctor Jeon Wonwoo?”

It was all meant to strike a chord in him but something about using such a high title with him made your mouth go dry. Wonwoo’s eyes darkened a bit, and you knew that he wanted to press the way that you had addressed him. You didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Well,” you said quickly. “I hope you’re ready for this lecture. I would hate for your head to hurt too much to enjoy it.”

Wonwoo grumbled.

“You talk too damn much.”

-

It was always like that with Wonwoo, a constant game of pushing and pulling and before you knew it your first test was coming up in German. You weren’t sure how things were going to go with it, but you did know that between all of your other classes you hadn’t had much of a chance to study for German.

And that meant cramming.

And cramming on a normal day was a lot and on days especially like this one. It left you feeling very delirious.

“Ich bin nicht klug…” You mumbled to yourself, not only furrowing your eyebrows at the fact that you were pretty sure you said it wrong, but also trying to figure out when the fuck you were supposed to use not, and how the fuck you added it to a sentence.

“Richtig,” a voice mumbled, dragging you away from the quizlet open on your tablet. “Du bist nicht klug.”

You glared at Wonwoo.

“I don’t need you to tell me I’m not smart. I was just talking,” you grumbled at him. He hummed, placing a hand in your little cubicle, leaning over your head to look at your quizlet.

“Well, it’s true,” Wonwoo commented. “Du bist sehr schlecht im Gebrauch von Verben im Deutschen.” You were frustrated to find that no matter how hard you thought about it, you had no clue what he had just said. Not that he even gave you time to process. “Oh, es tut mir leid. I said that you are very bad at verb usage in German.”

You elbowed Wonwoo as you wheeled your chair to the side, trying to get out from under him. He let his back press against the divider to your left, so you got to your feet.

“Why the fuck are you so good at German anyways?” You blurted. “Why the fuck does an English major need to know German?”

Wonwoo shrugged.

“Just thought it would be fun to take.”

You were furious. German was the only thing that you weren’t able to keep up with Wonwoo in.

You two had been matching rivals in Chemistry and your gender studies class. You had smoked him in Biology, but he had never been able to beat you in a class before. Even in writing you both ended up with the same exact grade on every assignment. So why German?

Why was he so good at German?

“You know you’re disrupting my studying,” you grumbled, a bit annoyed by his interruption. You slid your tablet to the side, and picked up your water bottle, taking a sip. As you did Wonwoo held out his hand, clearly expecting you to share your water with him.

You rolled your eyes at his audacity.

You handed him your water bottle. 

“Do you need help studying?” Wonwoo asked, and it would seem genuine if it weren’t for that condescending look in his eyes. “I bet even after hours of studying you don’t know how to form a sentence.”

You knew enough German to say: “Ich hasse dich.” Because you had learned the phrase, I hate you specifically to say it to Wonwoo.

He stepped a bit closer to you.

“You could also say Dich hasse ich,” Wonwoo clarified. “It’s interchangeable in that sentence.”

You two stared at one another, and it was only then that you realized exactly how close you two were to one another. Your eyes flickered across his perfect face. Smooth, glassy skin, gorgeous dark eyes framed in glasses that should make him look like a nerd but instead just made him more handsome, and pretty pink lips that you just wanted to-

You felt your cheeks redden and you knew you had to act fast. You reached forward, grabbing the frames from off his face.

“Are you ever embarrassed by the fact that your genes are so awful you have to wear glasses?” You mumbled, trying to hide your moment of weakness. You two were so close to one another that you could barely even hold his glasses up between the two of you without your knuckles brushing his chest. You raised his glasses to your face, sliding them up your nose.

You frowned.

“God your sight is awful. You reall-”

Before you could finish your sentence Wonwoo had grabbed your wrist and holy shit he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he would be.

He gestured towards your skirt, which barely even fell halfway past your thighs.

“Are you ever embarrassed to walk around like some sort of conceited slut?”

Your mouth dropped open, and you knew that you should be angry and push Wonwoo away and yell at him because you had both taken the same gender studies class and you knew that he knew better than to talk to anyone that way, and you knew that he was respectable to people of all genders, but instead you just stood there, shocked.

There was a tightness in the pit of your stomach, and your hand fell to your side, gripping at the edge of your desk. You struggled to find something to say back, and your hesitance made Wonwoo’s expression which, by the way, had turned to shock as soon as the words left his mouth, to confusion.

“Bist du dumm?” He mumbled, and the question went right over your head. You suddenly weren’t able to think about anything. He flicked your forehead lightly. “I said are you dumb? Don’t you know you’re supposed to argue it when someone says something derogatory like that to you?”

His voice was veiled a bit in concern. Like he was worried that people were walking around calling you a slut to your face and you weren’t saying anything about it.

… You certainly hoped that Wonwoo never found out about your book preferences. Maybe you should try and hide Haunting Adaline from your bookshelves on Goodreads.

“I was just caught off guard,” you mumbled. “I thought you were more intelligent than needing to resort to such derogatory terms.”

Bold-faced lie. Your face was red. Why were you growing so warm at the implication. Why were you thinking about the fact that nobody was ever in this corner of the library this late at night. Why were you thinking about the window that was right in front of you two looking out on the water fountain outside of the library? Why were you thinking about the absence of cameras on this floor? And most importantly why were you wondering what Wonwoo’s hands would be like with your skirt bunched into it?

You two stared at one another, and Wonwoo took a step closer (you were surprised that was even possible) his gaze becoming a bit sharper.

“Es gefällt dir…” You like it.

“Nein…” You mumbled back. Wonwoo’s hand came up to your chin, his thumb brushing it at first, making your chin tilt up a bit, encouraging the touch. When you did that Wonwoo clasped his fingers on your chin, holding it where you presumed, he wanted it.

“Yes, you do,” he said in awe. He leaned forward, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“You look hot in my glasses,” he mumbled.

You made a noise that was not a response. 

His lips ghosted yours.

“Keep them on.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. At first, it was hesitant. He was a bit unsure of if he wanted to actually kiss you, or if you actually wanted to kiss him. That was a fair thought of him to have because you were unsure if you even wanted to kiss him, until his lips were on yours and then your arms were wrapping around him, the palm of your hand pressing on his neck so that he was forced closer to you.

One of Wonwoo’s hands came up to your hair, and he pulled you back by your ponytail. You hissed at the action, but the way that it sent a coil of heat through your body was enough to stop you from complaining.

“Ich will dich ficken,” Wonwoo mumbled, as your lips parted. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“You want to…” You trailed off, your fingers balling into his shirt. You didn’t know that verb, you were sure your professor hadn’t covered it.

“Fuck.” Wonwoo twisted your body so that you were pressed against the edge of the desk, and his pelvis was pressed to yours. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“So? Are you going to be fucking good and let me take you?”

You were already nodding when the word good left his lips. So, when he finished the question, you were nodding rapidly.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “Oh god please take me Wonwoo.”

A smirk flickered across his lips.

“In German.”

Frustration bubbled up in your body…. Or was that arousal?

“Uh… Ja… ich will dich ficken… Too?”

That must have been good enough because the next thing you knew, Wonwoo’s lips were on yours again and he was hiking you up onto the desk, pushing your skirt up to your waist with ease.

“You don’t even have shorts under this,” he mumbled against your lips as his hand ran over your thigh. He slapped you there, hard. You yelped and your fingers tightened in his shirt. “Du bist ein Depp…" 

You vaguely registered he was calling you an idiot, but before you could respond he was sliding down your body, his fingers on your sides making you shiver despite being over your shirt. He got to his knees in front of you and took the hem of your underwear with his fingers.

“Let me get this off of you your highness,” he said mockingly. Your body grew even hotter, and you leaned back on your hands, lifting your legs a bit so he could easily pull your underwear off of you. You could feel a string of wetness drawing from your pussy as he pulled your underwear off and you wanted to hide your face in embarrassment at the truth of just how much Wonwoo had turned you on. You pressed your lips together tightly.

“God you’re fucking soaked,” Wonwoo mumbled. He slapped your thighs apart again, and you obediently spread them for him. “You want me to treat you like mein kleines Schwanzluder?”

You had no clue what he was saying, and your silence in response made him pinch your inner thigh. You bit down into your fist.

“Are you really that bad at German?” He asked you. “If you can’t even respond to a question as simple as, do you want me to treat you like my little cock slut than I don’t know how you are going to pass the final.”

“Ja,” you blurted, scrambling to drag any German you knew out of your mind. “Bitte.” Please. “Ich bin dein…” You hesitated on the last word. I am your…

“Schwanzluder,” Wonwoo said softly, his eyes focusing on you. “Cock slut.”

“Schwanzluder,” you repeated, your voice barely there. Wonwoo hummed.

“Bad pronunciation,” he mumbled. “But then again, you’re also bad at that.”

You went to protest him because you thought that your German pronunciation was pretty good, but then you thought of something better to argue with him about:

“Are you even going to be able to do anything down there?” You asked him tauntingly. “You probably wouldn’t be able to find a clit even with your glasses o-” Before you could finish, Wonwoo was shoving something wet and salty into your mouth, Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized you recognized the feeling of the cloth of your wet underwear from when you had done this to yourself while masturbating in the past. Your face burned in shame at the way that this only turned you on more.

“Halt die Schnauze…”

You didn’t have to know German to know that he was telling you to shut up.

Wonwoo’s hands pressed at the insides of your thighs, high enough that he was able to feel the dampness that had soaked through the thin cloth of your underwear. He massaged his thumbs into your thighs, and beneath the blurriness of Wonwoo’s glasses you could see him smile slightly. His hands slid further up your thighs and one of his thumbs prodded at your folds, dragging them to the side so that he could see your wet pussy even better.

“Fuck…” He mumbled. “You’re wet like a bitch in heat.”  You let your head fall back and hit the glass of the window behind your head. You couldn’t deny what he was saying, as badly as you wanted to. He had eyes, and even though his glasses weren’t on… He could certainly feel how wet you were beneath his fingers.

His thumb plunged into you suddenly, feeling thick and short as he delved inside of you. His fingers brushed your clit and you whined against the cloth in your mouth, your eyes falling shut. He pulled his thumb out of you after a few moments, seeming to be in thought, and then he was suddenly pressing two fingers at your entrance.

It was a lot… Especially for someone who had not been prepped, and he seemed to figure out with the way that the stretch felt around his fingers. He retracted and then pushed a single finger inside of you. The feeling was intoxicating. Even though you had felt yourself that you were not stretched enough for two you felt like you needed it.

It wasn’t long until you were begging for more as desperately as you could from behind your gag. Your fingers were gripping desperately at the desk, and it had Wonwoo chiding as he finally eased a second finger into you.

“Du bist erbärmlich…” He mumbled and you had no fucking clue what he had said but it sounded so hot with the little twinge of accent in his voice. You rolled your hips down onto his fingers, and the action made Wonwoo press a hand to your pelvis. “Hör auf.”

Again you whined, but your body stilled under his command. The pressure of him pushing down on you pushed his fingers even further inside of you and if you thought that was hard to handle, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like with his dick inside of you.

As if to read your thoughts, Wonwoo leaned forward, his hot breath teasing your clit.

“Oh Engel… I’m going to fucking destroy you,” he mumbled. He leaned forward, and he began to suck on your clit. His tongue flicking over it as a way to distract you as he stuffed a third finger into you.

The burn was amazing, and the distraction of his wet tongue on your clit was so welcoming that you about came just from that.

You had always wanted Wonwoo to just shut up. Thought that there was no use at all for his mouth.

But here he was… Proving that he had at least one very good use for his mouth. You tried to fight the urge to move under him, going as far as to slap the palm of your hand against the desk you were being eaten out on, but as soon as his mouth completely replaced his fingers, and you felt your wetness on your thigh, you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling down against him.

Somehow his hot mouth felt just as good as his fingers did, and they were making your core burn in a way that was fucking painful. You needed his cock in you right now.

Wonwoo moaned against your cunt- The first indicator that he was enjoying this just as much as you were, and he suddenly pulled away from you. His fingers dipped into you again but only briefly.

“Bend over,” Wonwoo murmured, twisting your body so that your ass was against his bare wet dick. You could feel it poking at your ass and you quickly bent over, placing the palms of your hands to the window.

“Not good enough,” Wonwoo mumbled. He pressed his hand to the small of your back, forcing your ass up more, and with his other hand his fingers knotted in your hair and he shoved your face into the window. “That’s better…”

He trailed off as he moved the hand not in your hair to (you assumed) take hold of his cock. You stayed there for seconds that felt like hours, skirt bunched around your waist, ass out for Wonwoo, your rival, and your face smashed up against the window just enough to see that there were people walking outside, presumably to their dorms.

Frustration began to bubble inside you, which expressed itself in small tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Ich möchte hören, wie Du darum bettelst.”

The german made you let out a sob of frustration as it was paired with Wonwoo sliding the tip of his cock between your soaked and already abused folds.

“Wonwoo, I don’t fucking know what you’re saying,” you cried out. You bucked your hips, trying to force his cock into you which worked except it didn’t because just his tip slipped inside of you.

God you felt like you were going to go feral at the feeling of his bare cock inside of you, you were already thinking about him pumping you full of cum…

“Guess you better figure out what I’m saying.”

Your mind raced, trying to figure out what Wonwoo could have possibly been telling you to do. You didn’t really recognize any of the words… Ich… I… hören… hear…? Will… want-

“Bitte, bitte, bitte,” you pleaded desperately. “I want your cock so badly… treat me like your own schwandluger or… Whatever it was- Please Wonwoo, I’m beggi-”

Before you could finish speaking Wonwoo was shoving himself into you. Your fists lightly hit the window at the feeling, so relieved to finally have him inside of you. You understood now why he had deemed only fingering you on three fingers as a punishment. You felt like you were being split open on his cock, and he had decided that he was going to go easy on you.

“You’re so small like this,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I mean look at you, unable to move under me… Someone you despise… How’s it feel to not only be physically overpowered but also to be intelligently inferior to me?”

Humiliation boiled through your veins, and each hard thrust of his cock sent him deeper into you than the time before.

“Genau so mag ich dich…” Wonwoo mumbled, a hint of admiration in his voice. He tugged you up by your hair, arching your back. His arm wrapped around your body, right under your breasts, pushing them up as he brought his face right up next to yours.

He stared at you, his eyes squinting as he took in your already fucked out expression. He watched you bounce for a few seconds, each thrust drawing out a loud and desperate cry from you. Then, finally, he leaned forward and kissed you again.

This kiss was just as hot and heavy as the way he was fucking you, and you really ended up just screaming out in his mouth with every single thrust.

“You may not be good at German, but you are damn good at taking my cock,” he hissed out. “So, it turns out you are useful.”

He suddenly pushed you back down onto the table, smashing your face onto the cold surface.

“So why don’t you be a good cumdump and take all of my cum?”

You hadn’t even realized how much the pressure of needing to come had been building up in you until you felt the first warm spurt of cum fill your cunt.

There were a million reasons why you shouldn’t be excited by the fact that not only was Wonwoo fucking you raw but he was coming inside of you but all you could remember was how hot Wonwoo sounded when he was speaking to you in German, and how much you liked him controlling you as you began to come as well.

Your whole body shook as Wonwoo fucked you full of his cum, and he continued to fuck you until your body had stopped shaking. His fingers released in your hair, and the sound of both of you panting filled the air. You two were completely still for minutes that felt like hours, before finally you peeled yourself off the table.

You stared at Wonwoo, who was staring right back at you.

“Take your fucking glasses back,” you mumbled. He smiled at you, dragging them off of your face.

“Happily,” he replied. He ran his fingers through his hair, and he almost looked completely the same as he had when he first started to fuck you. “You know what the best part about this is?”

You stared at Wonwoo, the humiliation burning on your face.

“What is the best part?” You asked him, your voice low.

“You have barely studied,” he said, and his voice was heightened in amusement. “Good luck on the test tomorrow.”

His eyes swept over your body, clearly noting the fact that you were in no shape to study anymore. He gestured towards his phone- the time- reminding you that your class was so early that you wouldn’t even be able to study before it if you went to bed now.

Your mind raced with the implications.

“Get home safely y/n,” Wonwoo said, his voice light. You went to protest, but before you could he had pushed his fingers deep inside of you. Your fingers clutched the desk, immediately remembering who had been fucking you not long before. Who you had been begging to dominate you just moments ago.

He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them into his mouth with a smile.

“Maybe we’ll do this again.”

And then he was gone. Your blood was boiling, from satisfaction, humiliation, and pure anger at Wonwoo for having fucked you so that you would do bad on the test tomorrow, but one thing proved true between all of it. For him to think about fucking you to sabotage you, there had to be an initial wish to fuck you to begin with.

And if that were the case then… Well, you could certainly use this to your advantage…

May the games begin.

-

Taglist:

@starlight-night0, @alltheshineofthestars-blog, @park-hera-gi, @melodicrabbit, @jeanjacketjesus, @sparklyshuji, @woo8hao, @toruro, @wonudazed, @kkakkameori

(you can join my taglist here)

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Red Bull Family

Synopsis: Y/n L/n joins Red Bull Racing in 2022, and after some warming up, becomes Max Verstappen’s best friend. These are seven moments over the years when the energetic young adult breaks down “Mad Max”

young female driver reader x platonic max verstappen

so, I saw a rumor one time about how Max might want to leave f1 after his contract ends in 2028, so I thought it’d be fun to write a story about a teammate friendship and how it feels when one person retires. for this one, reader is 19 and max is 24 when she joins red bull in 2022

(y’all this fic took over a week to write and is almost 10k words 💀 idek if it’s good or not but i am not leaving this is my drafts)

2022- “Welcome”

You didn’t know why you were this nervous. It was just a team. They were just your coworkers. He was just your teammate. Today was your first day at Red Bull Racing. In the middle of the 2021 season, Christian Horner approached you with an offer to leave Alpha Tauri and join the Red Bull Team alongside Max Verstappen for 2022. You didn’t know what to expect from your new team, much less the infamous “Mad Max”. You knew that he could be kind and funny, but you also knew he could be cold and brutally straight forward.

With as much confidence as you could gather, you walked out of your car and towards the Red Bull Headquarters. The only person you knew was the team principal and that was only because of contract meetings and phone calls. It was your only chance at a first impression, and you were determined to make a good one.

The first person you saw when you walked inside was Christian, though he was surrounded by a few other people. “Y/n! Welcome! It’s nice to finally see in here in headquarters” Christian said, offering a smile and a handshake. You offered your own hand as he introduced you to the people around you.

“This is May Dawson your ‘minder’ or personal assistant, of sorts.” A woman that looked around your age stepped forward and shook your hand.

“Pierre Wache, our technical director” A middle-aged man stepped forward. “And our director of engineering, Paul Monaghan” The last man present shook your hand.

“So, first, we’re going to introduce you to everyone in the factory, just to give you a chance to meet everyone, then, there’s a meeting with the five of us, it’s not going to take very long, it’s just to further introduce you to Red Bull, alright?” Christian puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you through the factory. You just nod and smile as you look around the factory.

Your team principle gives you a mini tour of the place while you walk to the main garage, where your co-workers wait for you. You smile as you enter the room and applauds fill the space.

You greet as many people as you can as the five of you walk down the stairs. “Okay, okay. Thank you everyone for being here to introduce our newest driver, Y/n L/n!” Everyone starts clapping again, and you notice your teammate across the room.

As Christian continues talking, you make your way towards him. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m-” He cuts you off. “Y/n L/n, I know, he just said that” Max chuckles at you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’m Max” He takes your outstretched hand. You take notice of Christian’s lasting speech.

“So, how long do these ‘introductions’ usually last? I mean, you know, right? I’m your third teammate in three years” You both laugh.

“Yeah, you are. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. But then you have your introduction meeting, that lasts at least an hour and a half, and then I think you’d have some media stuff afterwards. So, you’re not leaving for a couple hours” Both of you laugh again as your team principle’s speech finishes.

“I’ll see you soon, good luck” Max smirks at you. “Thanks, see you soon” You smile back at him as May approaches to take you to the meeting.

Your teammate turns out to be right, and you don’t end up leaving the factory until after sundown. Your first day consists of a lot of handshakes, a photo shoot in your new attire, and a thorough tour of Red Bull headquarters.

You're due back tomorrow for some more introductory stuff and a meeting with your PR team. The first race of the 2022 season isn’t until a month and a half, but there is a lot of prep work.

There were no knots in your stomachs as you thought of your upcoming weeks at Red Bull or with Max. You didn’t really know what to expect, but you were excited, nonetheless.

2023- “The Dream Team”

It’s been over two years since you’ve been recruited to Red Bull, and you couldn’t have asked for a better two seasons with the team. In both 2022 and 2023, the lowest result you’ve got was P9. You and Max have completely dominated both race seasons, with a Red Bull driver always on the podium. Christian Horner was extremely pleased with his driver’s performances and the rest of the racing world came to love watching you race.

The fandom also loved seeing you and Max together. Your first days at the factory started the friendship and partnership that so successful today. The team behind Red Bull’s YouTube channel had you film a ‘Two Truths and a Lie” video as your first appearance together and the two of you have been attached at the hip since. You’re the first person to congratulate each other after a race and are known for speaking very fondly of the other when given the opportunity.

Max sees a lot of himself in you and ever since the first time he saw you in the Red Bull car on the track, he knew you were going to be something special. You were right about him being kind; the Dutch man has acted like your mentor during your first year at Red Bull, offering advice and never faltering in his belief in your success. He made you laugh a lot too, especially when Daniel Ricciardo was by his side.

Daniel joined you two in most media duties for the team, and it usually takes forever to get anything done due to the constant talking and laughing that goes on between you three. You met the Australian later in your first week at Red Bull and in true Daniel Ricciardo fashion, he made you feel comfortable immediately and the two of you became fast friends.

Seeing as Formula 1 was nearing the end of the 2023 Season, Red Bull decides to bring back a popular class, On the Sofa with Max Verstappen, Y/n L/n, and Daniel Ricciardo. You teased it with a photo of the couch on your Instagram and the fans went crazy. It was a bit sad knowing it was the end of the season, but you were mostly excited, both to go home and to do an iconic video with Max and Daniel.

“Hello everyone, I’m Daniel Riccardo”

“I’m Max Verstappen”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is, for the first time in a while actually, On the Sofa, with Max, Daniel, and Y/n” The older man introduced you three. “If you don’t remember, it’s fine because neither do I” The three of you smiled. “We are going to be reflecting on some on-track and off-track moments from this racing season. I’ve got the questions, they might have the answers, let’s get started”

Daniel turned to you. “Y/n, you decided to copy me and win in Monaco, your first win in 2023, also. What was going through your head throughout the race, when you crossed the finish line, and during your dive into the pool?”

You smiled at the memory of your first win. “Well, a lot of the race was me trying not to get too excited and mess up. I qualified P2, right behind Max, and because there isn’t a lot of opportunities to overtake in Monaco, I was pretty comfortable finishing there, but then I overtook him towards the end of the race and spent the rest of it trying not to freak out. I was really relieved when I crossed the finish line, and the dive into the pool didn’t even feel like an option. Jumping into the pool is something iconic for all drivers who win there, how I am not going to do it?” You spoke honestly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t copy my belly flop too” Daniel said, making you laugh. He turned to your teammate. “Max, she beat you. How did that feel?”

“Oh, it felt great, you know. I love being overtaken by my teammate. It’s a great feeling really” Max replied sarcastically. “No, but actually, I mean, obviously I wasn’t happy about not winning but it was nice to see you win, I was proud, if I’m not gonna win, I’d want it to be you” He turned to you and a smile came on your face. Daniel let out a small smile before interrupting. ‘Alright enough of the sappy, ‘I love you’ bullshit” He picked up another card.

“Max, what was your favorite win this season?”

“I think the Austrian Grand Prix. With it being at the Red Bull Ring and having a lot of Dutch fans there, it made the race pretty special” That was a good day for Red Bull, a 1-2 from you and Max and a lot of support from the fans. You remembered the cheers from the arena and the celebrations that seemed endless.

“Yeah, you liked flexing on everyone else, didn’t you” Daniel joked and the three of you laughed. “Someone ask me a question now” Neither you or Max were given cards, but you were happy to improvise.

“Daniel, what was the best part of filming your show, ‘Grandstand' with Will Arnett?” You asked. “I think just getting chance to commentate and watch the race with someone. I mean, I’m usually watching the race from the garage or the pit wall, but it was fun to just talk and kinda goof around while the race went on instead of just watching” The Australian replies.

“Y/n, what was your favorite off-track moment from 2023?”

You immediately grin. “Definitely the paint video. By far, that was so much fun.” At the Belgian Grand Prix, the Red Bull media team had you, Daniel, and Max, do a painting challenge. Daniel and Max had to give you instructions to create a portrait of the three of you, while you were blindfolded. You were laughing the entire time, and it escalated to a paint fight once they insulted your finished portrait. The team was mad at you and Max for ruining your clothes and causing a delay for you three of clean up, but it was worth it.

“Oh, the paint video was so much fun”

“I still have some of that purple paint on my hat, I think” You splattered paint on one of Max’s beloved hats, claiming that he should add a purple one to his collection. The three of you laughed and Daniel picked up another card. “This one is for both of you. What is the best part of having the other as a teammate?” You looked at each other before you responded.

“Well, first off, Max is more than my teammate, I think that’s the best part of it” You chuckled before continuing. “I mean, you’re my mentor, you’re my friend, you’re my supporter. You’ve made my first year of Red Bull easier and a lot less scary than I thought it would be, and not a lot of drivers have all those things in a teammate”

You finished, not wanting to ramble on about how grateful you were for your friend and looked at Max, who was smiling at you. “Wow, Max, how are you gonna top that?”

Max chuckled at that before answering. “Y/n is all those things for me as much as I am for her. When I’m unhappy with my performance, she is there for me. Without even realizing it, you teach me things that I probably would not have learned with anyone else as my teammate” He speaks to you now.

“Aw, what a love fest. You guys should hug it out” Daniel comments. “You have to join the hug, too, Daniel” you say before moving closer to the two of them. The Australian wraps his arms around the younger drivers in a hug, swaying slightly, before completely pushing you and Max off the couch.

“No love here. Only violence and pain” You and Max laugh from your places on the ground. “That’s it for today, hope you had a fun 2023 season, don’t do drugs, and we’ll see you next year” Daniel said before walking out of frame. You and Max both waved to the camera. “Bye everyone, we’ll see you next season!”

2024- “More than you think”

It was Round 7 of the 2024 Race Season and for once, Monaco couldn’t have been uglier. It was pouring rain and the wind could be heard over the twenty car engines. You’ve driven in a lot of wet races since you joined Formula 1 in the beginning of 2021 but never in one as bad as this one.

You and Max were talking about the conditions in your driver's room and how even though you both thrived in the rain, this was too intense for comfort.

“I mean, I know the FIA is brain dead in most situations, but, jeez, you’d have to be blind to make us race” You complained to your teammate seated beside you on your couch.

“I know, and in Monaco too” Max trailed off, hoping there wouldn’t be any crashes today. Soon enough you two had to separate to prepare for the race, but not before promising to see each other off before you got into your respective cars.

An hour passes and the rain doesn’t let up. Your race engineer informs you that if anything, it’s somehow supposed to get worse. Frowning, you make your way to Max’s side of the garage to wish him luck. “Hey, be careful today, okay? Good luck” You tapped him on the shoulder and put your hand on his shoulder.

“And you the same, yeah? Good luck” He pulled you into a hug before putting on his balaclava and helmet.

Both Red Bulls start their formation laps, trying to see through the rain and avoid the other cars on track. Your heart beats faster as you approach your place of P3 on the grid and the five red lights come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Monaco!” The voice of Martin Brundle becomes audible. You manage to pull away, but the tight corners of Monte Carlo don’t allow you to gain a lead. You struggle through the mist of the two cars in front of you for the first 11 laps of the race but manage as best you can, until you get to the straight after Turn 8.

You didn’t see Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you. The spray from the rain kept you from knowing that he slowed down, until your front wing hit the back of his car. The collision caused your car to turn almost 180 degrees around, making the car behind you, Fernando Alonso, ram into the side of your car. The impact made you spin off track and into the barriers for a harsh stop.

“Big collision on the straight before Turn 9! I think that’s Y/n L/n’s Red Bull! She was hit by Fernando Alonso, I think, after Charles Leclerc braked.” Martin commentates as he looks onto the track. ‘That looked very bad, might be- yep, red flag until we know if L/n’s okay. Her car has stopped but she hasn’t moved yet”

You were completely disoriented in your car, your dizzy head making it hard to comprehend what had happened. Once you realized you had crashed into the barrier, you noticed the intense pain coming from your left leg and left side of your rib cage, the side that Fernando hit.

You tried to get out of your car, but your leg made it nearly impossible, you would have to wait until the safety marshals arrived.

Max was in P1 so he didn’t see your crash in person, but he saw glimpses of it through his rearview mirror. “That was Y/n? Is she okay?” The Dutch asks his race engineer, GP. “Yeah, that was Y/n. No information on her yet. Just slow down and get back to the pitlane” The man responds. “Is she out of her car?” Max radios again. GP didn’t want to worry Max, knowing how close you two are, but he knows he has to tell Max.

“She hasn’t, Max, Y/n is still in her car, that’s all we know. Just focus on getting back to the pits safely” Max ignores GP again.

“What has she said?” Gianpiero hesitates for a moment before responding.

“Nothing, Max. There hasn’t been any communication from Y/n yet.” At that, Max mutters “Fuck it” before pulling his car over after Turn 11 and shutting off the engine.

“Max, no, come back to the-”

The driver cuts his race engineer off. “No, I’m going to see if she is okay. Don’t try to stop me”

Max was thinking back to your conversation before the race and became filled with worry. He knew he should’ve pushed Christian to get the FIA to cancel the race; he knew it was too dangerous. Now you’ve crashed and are unresponsive in your car.

Max runs through the rain to get to your car to see you struggling to get out. “Y/n! Are you okay?” He shouts loudly as he gets closer.

“Not really. My left leg got hit, and I think I hurt my ribs” You wince as you shout from your cockpit.

“I’m going to help you get out, let me know if it hurts too much” Max stands over you and grabs your hands to pull you up. You crouch on your one good leg and let him help you stand you up in your seat, one arm across your ribs. “Good?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’m going to get out from here”

“Let me carry you, keep your bad leg out” Max comes to the side of your car, and you make out his outstretched arms through the wind and rain. He puts one of your arms around his neck and grabs your good leg, carrying you bridal style.

He puts you down a few feet away from your car but makes sure your arm is still around his neck so he can help you walk. “Look, the marshals are coming. I’m going to leave you with them and come see you after the race, okay?” Your teammate says as the safety car pulls over next to you and Max.

“Okay, thank you Max, you know you didn’t have to”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says honestly.

“Good luck” You called out as two medics came out of the car and wrapped your arms around their shoulders. They took you to the medical center where you were diagnosed with a fractured knee and a few fractured ribs. You spent the rest of the race in the hospital so doctors could put a cast around your leg, while May sat beside you and updated you about the ongoing event. She got there a little after you did so she could gather all your stuff from the garage, and you could go back to your hotel once you get discharged.

A knock on the door interrupts your conversation with her. “Hey” Max’s head becomes visible as the door opens. “Hey Max, congrats on P1. I’ll check you out, Y/n, I’ll come back in a few minutes” May nods and leaves you and Max alone.

“Hey Max, you did great out there” You smile at your teammate from your place on the hospital bed.

“Thanks, I was happy Charles and Carlos got to the podium with me, but I wish you could’ve been there”

“Me too, but..” You trail off, gesturing to your leg and torso.

“So, I talked to Charles and Fernando, they plan on visiting you at your hotel tomorrow, they were worried about you, especially Charles” The Dutch man tells you.

“Yeah, I figured, I’ll talk to them tomorrow” It is silent for a minute, until Max suddenly blurts out. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you aren’t okay, but, how long until you are?”

It wasn’t until now you noticed that Max’s blue eyes are filled with worry. “The doctor said it would be at least a month until I can race again, and I’m going to be in the cast for a couple weeks” Your teammate frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/n” You shrugged. “It’s not your fault”

“I know, but I wish I could help”

“Don’t worry about it, Max. I’ll be back soon, it’s only a month”

“I know”

Who you can only guess to be May knocks on the door. “I’ll see you, later, Y/n, get better soon” He grabs your hand before leaving the room. As you ride back to your hotel, you look at social media to make a statement about your current state.

Max has surprised you about a lot of things today, and by the looks of the comments under the videos about your crash, the fans are too. You’ve never been in a serious crash to the point where you need to go to the hospital before, but you expected Max to just text you after his race and ask about it the next time you see him.

The fans are going crazy, mostly the ones that ship you two together, but generally they’re just happy you seemed okay. You would comfortably say that Max is your best friend, but still, he’s not the type to stop his own race to check on you. It may have taken you two years, but you finally realize that “Mad Max” isn’t mad at all.

2025- “By my side”

It was the beginning of the 2025 racing season, you were in your fourth year at Red Bull with Max and by this point, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. There is no point in having separate driver’s rooms because you are always in his, your press officers have given up on trying to get the two of you to behave and just let you follow each other around the media pen, and your Red Bull co-workers are smart enough to not let you two alone in a room together, especially not after you two had found the old Crazy Carts and pulled a “Daniel” by putting a hole in the wall. Christian feels like he has two more kids, and let’s Geri take care of you however she wants. Your families are close too, always sitting together nervously in the viewing room. Kelly is basically your older sister and Penelope loves you like an aunt, so your excitement about their engagement is understandable.

Max proposed at the end of Abu Dhabi in 2024 and if Charles’ arm wasn’t around you, keeping you grounded, you would’ve been jumping up and down and screaming. You almost tackled her in the hug, the smile on both of your faces blinding. Penelope grabbed your hands and made you start dancing to the music blasting from the speakers with her, while the arene was booming with cheers. You geeked out the same way once the invitation was sent to you and let Kelly gush about the wedding all she wanted once you got your nails done together.

You and Kelly’s friendship started when complimented her jacket when you met her in the 2022 Monaco Race. She gave you the name of the place, but when you joked about not knowing French and having no idea how to get around the city, she offered to take you there herself if you were still around Monday afternoon. You went and had a really good time with the model, talking mostly about how different you two are and making fun of Max. At the next race she attended that year, you two went out for coffee Friday afternoon, and it quickly became a tradition after you went out together a couple more times.

You met Penelope soon after that and fell absolutely in love with her. You thought she was adorable and was so glad she seemed fond of you too, probably because of the candy you give her every time you meet. Your friendship continued to get stronger, leading to now, talking about your role in her wedding.

The event was not going to be small in any way, and Kelly really wanted someone she could trust to keep an eye on her daughter and keep her out of trouble when she couldn’t. Her best friends and family already had their own parts to play, and knowing how much you adored the young girl, she chose you.

The wedding was held at a beautiful venue in Monaco, and it couldn’t have gone better. You weren’t the only driver there, Daniel, Lando, and Charles were present and accompanying you. When you weren’t keeping Penelope occupied, you were with them, talking about Max and Kelly and dancing.

You smiled fondly as the couple when they stood at the altar and would be lying if your eyes were completely dry as you watched them take their first dance. The four of you took photos with the married couple, and you even have some of just you and Max and you and Kelly. Everyone had a great time; love was an amazing part of life, and you were happy to watch your best friend experience it.

Unfortunately, loss was also a part of life. And it nearly killed Max to watch you go through it.

Days before Round 10 of 2025, you got a call saying one of your closest friends, Luis, had been killed in a car crash.

Luis was a part of the friend group you had back home, and you had known him for years at that point. He was hilarious and caring, always making sure you knew he supported you no matter what. A member of the same friend group called you in tears, and it took everything in you not to break down as well.

It was Thursday, meaning you had media duties for hours. You almost left your driver's room to get May and ask her to cancel your responsibilities, but then you remembered that were supposed to meet your PR officer outside the garage in less than five minutes so she could escort you to the media pen. You talked to your friend as long as you could, promising to call back as soon as you finished, and hung up the phone to leave. You blinked back your tears as you met your officer and didn’t even bother putting on a smile as you passed your co-workers.

You met up with Max as you walked. “Hi- what’s wrong?” He immediately notices the frown on your face. “I’ll tell you after” You’d start crying if you talked about it now. You answer questions for what feels like an eternity, probably sounding like a robot, giving generic answers.

You were grateful when you were excused from a press conference and made a bee line for your driver’s room. You locked the door behind you as you grabbed your phone and called your friend back. She broke into tears as she told you the details of what happened, and you couldn’t help but join her. You sat on the floor, back against the couch as both of you cried over your friend. Sobs escaped your body faster than you could stop them and you prayed no one heard you.

You were proven wrong when you heard a knock against the door, and the voice of your teammate called out. “Y/n? Are you okay?” Max pauses, waiting for a response. “Let me in, Y/n, please”

You turned back to your phone. “I’m sorry, Max is at my door, I’ll call you back and we’ll talk” You told her this exact this thing hours ago and was frustrated you can’t spend more than a few minutes alone.

Wiping the tears off your cheeks, you unlocked the door. “Y/n, I heard you crying, what’s wrong?” Max put his hands on your shoulders. “I- I just found out my friend from home, Luis, died-” That’s all you manage before you have to cover your mouth to stop a cry from leaving.

“Oh, Y/n” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, holding your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry” He repeats, rubbing your back. He brings you to sit down on the couch, an arm around your shoulder and a hand to wipe the tears falling from your cheeks. You sit with Max until you calm down a bit and are ready to talk.

“Luis, he was one you told me comes to the grand prix’s in your country, right?” You nod.

“My friend told me he was in a car crash this morning, on his way to work. I don’t know, Max, just, the fact that he died doing what I do for a living is just...” You trailed off, trying not to cry again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, it’s not fair. Here, let’s go back to the hotel, you can just relax for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, yeah, we should go. Also, about tonight, can you tell everyone I’m feeling sick or something?”

You and Max were supposed to meet a few other drivers for dinner later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. “Yeah of course. I’m going to get my stuff from my room and then we’ll leave, yeah?” He leaves and you pack up all your stuff before Max meets you in the hallway.

The trip back to your hotel was silent and Max leaves you with a hug before going to his own room. You were finally able to connect with your friends back home and talk about when you’d be able to see them next after you traveled home Sunday afternoon. You spent the rest of the day in your room, thinking and listening to music when you didn’t want to think anymore.

You didn’t feel any better the next morning, and just hoped to get through Free Practice 1 and 2 quickly. You didn’t smile as you walked through the paddock, keeping your sunglasses on and taking the quickest way to the Red Bull garage. You have headphones in as well, so everyone gets the message that you’re not up for conversation.

FP1 and FP2 go by quickly and as always, the Red Bull does well, and you come right behind Max in P2 both practices. You leave the same way you came in, walking quickly to avoid the press. Your fellow drivers are still around the paddock, and they still don’t know why you’ve been holed up in your hotel room for two days. You haven’t talked to Max much since yesterday, but when you have, you’re glad he doesn’t just look at you with pity and actually checks on you.

You talk with your friends about the funeral arrangements for Luis next week before you talk with his parents, two people that have been as supportive of you as their son has, making you cry again. You skip out on your dinner plans with May and your PR officer with apologies and promises to make it up to them and order room service.

You make yourself a little more approachable on Saturday morning but keep the sunglasses. You wave at your friends but don’t stop to talk. At this point, most of the drivers know something is seriously upsetting you. They watched your media day interviews and barely recognized the person in front of the microphone.

A few of them asked Max about you when they run into him, but your teammate doesn’t want to tell everybody something you might not be ready to share.

He is by far the most worried driver of them all. He’s your best friend and he’s never seen you like this before. Max knows how close you were to Luis; he’s used to hearing stories about the adventures you had when you went home for a few days and can only imagine how you’re feeling inside.

Nobody goes out Saturday night in preparation for tomorrow’s race and you’re glad to have more time by yourself. You take the sunglasses off and stop to talk to your friends on Sunday, the first time all race weekend.

Max walks with you through the paddock, letting you talk when you want to or be silent if you choose. You don’t visit his driver's room, but you make sure to give him a hug before you get into your respective cars, an unspoken ‘thank you’ for his support over the past few days.

The race cheers you up a bit, you go P1 and point at the sky as you stand on top of your car in front of the garages. When the cameras pan over to you, you make sure the top of your helmet is visible, where an R.I.P. Luis sticker is. You wish he could’ve been here to see you win, but you know he would’ve been proud of you.

Max brings you into a hug after he parks behind you in P3, and you’re reminded how grateful you are that he is your best friend.

2026- “We should be proud”

You and Max have accomplished a lot together throughout the past four years. Max is now a four-time world champion, winning 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2025. You beat him in 2024, and you’ve just beaten him to the 2026 title. You and Max have been almost tied with points every year since you’ve joined, so it usually comes down to the last few races to decide the winner. Beating Max wasn’t at all easy, and it didn’t get any less difficult to beat the rest of the grid.

Red Bull can no longer completely dominate as they did in the early 2020’s, but they still manage to top the other nine teams. Ferrari and Mercedes are the biggest rivalries, but a few other teams cause your cars a fair bit of trouble. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri at Mclaren bring stress for the three big teams, as do Lance Stroll and Mick Schumacher at Aston Martin.

The partnering of Yuki Tsunoda and Daniel Ricciardo has brought Alpha Tauri up to the midfield and has allowed both drivers to stand on the podium multiple times. It’s made the last few years very exciting, and even though you love winning, you love seeing your friends succeed as well.

This year had been no different; You and Max had each won a fair number of races and had each stepped onto the podium multiple times. Ferrari and Mercedes had not made it any easier than previous years but still, by the time Abu Dhabi came around, Red Bull had a lead of 30 points over the second-place team, Mercedes. You were currently first for the Driver’s Championship, but Max was close behind with only a 19-point difference. If he won tonight’s race, he would become a five-time champion, and you’d have to wait until next year.

You tried to shove that thought out of your head with headphones. Your trainer just finished helping you warm up for the race start in an hour and you’re in your driver’s room. Usually, you’d be walking to Max’s room to chill out before drivers have to get into their cars for their formation laps, but you two had long come up with the agreement not to see each other before races that would determine the championship.

When it is time to start the formation lap, you go to the garage and instead of hugging your teammate like you usually do, you settle for a handshake and a nod. He’s your best friend, but also your closest rival. You start P2, Max beating you by half a second yesterday, and anxiously wait for the five red lights to come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Abu Dhabi! Verstappen has a poor start, L/n takes advantage of it and tries to move in front of him and Y/n L/n is now leading this race but Max Verstappen is not far behind, the gap is less than a second, and Verstappen takes P1 back from L/n. It has been an exciting year in Formula 1, what better way to go out than a classic Red Bull battle?” David Croft commentates for the crowd.

It’s a great racing day for Formula 1; the weather is nice, and it looks like all twenty cars are going to last the 58 laps. As you continue the race in P2, trying to defend against Charles Leclerc behind you, you try to think of strategic ways to win the race. You don’t get very far, because you remember that Max is driving the same car as you, and by now, you’re as good as the Dutch man.

Your teammate takes a somewhat early pit stop and you’re able to gain a lead, but then you have to pit and get stuck in P6 behind Lance Stroll.

“Lap 35, Y/n L/n is leading in P1, Verstappen P2, Sainz P3, and Russell P4. Interesting lineup here, but the real fight is within Red Bull. We’re over halfway through this race and L/n and Verstappen have been trading places all day. There are not many options as to who will win this race, folks, but that doesn’t make it any easier to predict”

It’s Lap 50 and the excitement has winded down. It looks like everyone behind you and Max are going to stay the way they are currently, meaning you’ll be sharing a podium with Charles. Whether you’ll be standing on P1 or P2 you still don’t know. Max has made his way in front of you but you’re restless, gaining on him every possible moment, being only a few feet away from his rear wing on the straights.

You’re starting to get nervous now. This would not be your first World Championship, you had that moment in 2024, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean the world to you if you became a two-time world champion.

You think it’s your nerves that help you pick up on the fact that Max’s car locked up for just a second before going into the final turn. You think it’s your nerves that make your foot push through the gas pedal and help you get in front of your teammate. It’s Lap 51 and you’re in front of your teammate. You could win this. You could win this.

These words were like a mantra in your head, all the way until Lap 58, when you actually start to believe in yourself. The Dutch man behind you is relentless, getting so terrifyingly close to overtaking you, but never quite getting fully past. “Keep him at bay, Y/n” Your race engineer comes on over the radio. “Keep him at bay and it’s yours, Y/n”

And thirty seconds later, it is yours.

“And it’s Y/n L/n! Y/n L/n is the winner of Abu Dhabi 2026! Y/n L/n is the World Champion! Ladies and gentlemen, L/n is the Champion of 2026!” Crofty shouts and suddenly the only thing you can hear in your race engineer through your ears. "You've done it! You are the World Champion! The World Champion!”

“Holy shit, oh my god, holy-” Suddenly one of your arms is waving up and down because it’s the only way to express energy in your tiny car. You’re screaming, definitely making everyone down at the pit wall’s ear’s bleed. You feel tears in your eyes and don’t care because you were close to sobbing in 2024.

“Y/n, congratulations, you are officially a 2-time World Champion. We are so proud of you down here, congratulations” Christian’s voice comes over the radio next and you feel like you're floating through your cool-down lap.

You put one of your hands on your helmet as if you were covering your face and remember to wave to the crowd. You drive your car in front of the paddock where the 1st place sign is and get out of your seat as quickly as possible. You put your arms in the air and allow yourself to hear the roars of the crowd. You get down to run to your team, but you see Max first.

You know he just lost to you, and he probably is upset but he’s your best friend. Without hesitation, you run to him, and he meets you halfway to pull you into a hug. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m so proud of you. Oh my god, Y/n, I am so proud of you” Your teammate has to shout, even though your heads are right next to each other.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist as you both run to your team. His side of the garage has been so successful these past few years and it’s a win for Red Bull overall, so they cheer just as loud as everyone else, just glad to see you happy. You both jump up so you can be caught by the engineers and it’s just a mess of high fives and cheers.

You both finally pull off your helmets and balaclavas and turn to see each other’s grinning, flushed, faces. You hug each other again. “We should be so proud of ourselves, Y/n. I’m so happy for you” Max doesn’t lie to you, so you’re glad you don’t have to worry he feels otherwise. You both pick up your towels and water bottles before you have to give interviews for Sebastian Vettel.

He became like Nico Rosberg, coming back to the paddock, not as a driver, just as someone who likes to be involved in Formula 1 and has the right to. You were on the grid with him for two years before he retired, and even though you two have never been best friends, you like him, and he roots for you especially. “Before I ask any questions, congratulations” The German man pulls you into a hug. “Thanks Seb” You grin.

“Y/n, you’ve just accomplished something unbelievable in F1, and have ensured Red Bull go down in Formula 1 history. What’s going through your head?”

“It’s unbelievable. I mean, it was more unbelievable the first time, but doing it a second time, just feels incredible. I’m really happy to be a part of Red Bull, and I’m really happy I’m able to help them achieve bigger things” You smile as you give your answer.

“Well, we’re all happy for you, Y/n. Again, congratulations, you drove very well today” Sebastian shakes your hand and sends you off.

While Max steps forward, Charles comes to you. “Congratulations! I am so happy for you. You deserve this” The Monegasque brings you into a tight embrace. “I am so proud of you” He kisses you on the cheek before letting you go. “Thank you, Charles, congratulations to you too” Charles has finished third in the driver’s championship every year since 2024 and you’re happy he’s finally getting the car he deserves.

You go into the driver’s room where a camera and TV wait for you. “A four-time world champion and two-time world champion. We are the dream team, aren’t we?” Max grins at you as he takes a seat. “Definitely” you say as you look at the screen, watching your championship win as long as they let you.

2027- “An Outsider’s perspective”

It has been almost ten years since Drive to Survive premiered and by now, all the drivers on the grid are sick of Netflix’s bullshit. They made it seem like you either hated or were in love with half the grid, and somehow managed to make fake conversations about teammates and contracts. Almost all the drivers never went in for interviews anymore, but a certain email caught their attention.

One thing everyone had known for years; You and Max were best friends. Another thing that nobody had known until about a month ago; Max was not extending his contract with Red Bull to go past the 2028 season. The director of Drive to Survive saw this and thought about making it into a second-to-last season finale of the show. Max’s patience about his contract news had worn out quickly, and nobody has been updated about it in a week.

Everyone in the entire world has heard you and Max say that you two were just friends a million times, but that didn’t mean they weren’t curious to know if there was more going on. It was time for the rest of the grid’s opinion on it.

“So, Charles”

“Lando”

“Carlos”

“Daniel” The director asked the Red Bull drivers’ closest friends.

“What’s really going on between Max and Y/n?”

Charles lets out a small smile. Lando groans. “Seriously?” Carlos rolls his eyes. Daniel laughs.

“There is nothing going on. They are just friends” Charles is confident.

“Nothing! For god’s sake’s...” Lando’s annoyed

“I mean, I don’t think anything romantic is going on. I think they are just very good friends.” Carlos is honest.

“They’re married and they have three secret kids in Monaco” Daniel continues to laugh.

“So you don’t even think they’ve kissed before?” The director continues.

“No” Charles shrugs.

“Maybe. I’m close with both of them but I don’t think it’s any of our business”

“No one except them can know for real. I haven’t seen them kiss before, but I don’t know”

Daniel stops laughing “No but actually, they're not together. Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. They’re not a couple.”

“You don’t think anything is behind those glances?”

“No”

“Like true love? No” Lando laughs.

“Well, it’s obvious that they love each other. You just said it, the meaning behind their looks, you cannot ignore. But I still don’t think they are in love”

Daniel smiles now. “There is definitely some love between them, in their looks. It’s pretty obvious, I’d say”

“Do you think, let’s say, in another life, they would’ve been together?”

Charles cannot deny this question. “Yes, I do. Not in this one, but in another life, they are definitely soulmates.”

“Yes, I do actually. In another life they are 100% in love and have been together since 2023, probably.”

“I think so, yes. In another life though, not in this lifetime” Carlos smiles.

“Oh yeah. In another life they probably are married and have three secret kids in Monaco”

“Why do you think? That they’re together in another life but not in this one?

“Because they are meant to be with different people”

“I don’t know. Some people might say Kelly, but, if they really wanted to be together, they wouldn't have let somebody else come between them. They just don’t love each other like that” Lando says.

“They are just not meant to be together, I guess” Carlos says.

“They don’t love each other like that. Obviously, they love each other in some way, but not the kind you have in a relationship”

What is one time you thought they were definitely a couple?”

“To me, it was always obvious that they were not. I know to a lot of people it is the opposite but for some reason I could just tell, they loved each other but only as friends.”

“I remember one summer break in 2024, when Daniel invited me, Max, and Y/n to spend some time in Australia at his farm with him. This was a few months after Y/n crashed in Monaco, by the way. I remember we were all on a beach together, and Y/n just kept pulling Max behind her, telling him to look at seashells and crabs and stuff like that. And he didn’t protest at all, no matter how much random beach crap Y/n handed him” Lando smiled. “I thought; ‘Max would never have the patience to let someone pull him around like that’ But he did, and I think it was because he was glad she wasn’t seriously hurt in that crash”

“I said it earlier. I don’t think I ever thought they were. Me and Y/n are very good friends and when I first asked, she told me they were not together, and I have not thought otherwise”

“There have been a few moments over the years at this point, where for some ridiculous reason, Max gets a huge wave of hate at a time and- well, Max has never been one to care what other people think of him, but some stuff really got to him, and I remember Y/n making a few posts on social media telling everyone to stop, and that the stuff they were saying to him was really disgusting and undeserved. She knew everyone would think she had some sort of feelings for Max after that- I did and they’re my best friends. But she did it anyway, multiple times. And Y/n thinks it’s really annoying when people say they’re a couple, so for her to do that... I thought they were 100% in love”

“Last question. What do you think makes Y/n and Max, Y/n and Max? What about them makes them so different than other driver friendships?”

“I think their similarities, I think that’s what started their friendship in the first place. Max has said he sees a lot of himself in Y/n and she joined Formula 1 and Red Bull when she was young, they both did. So, I think it’s that, their similar achievements and such, that helped them become such good friends” Charles answers.

“Their personalities, I’d say. They have similar senses of humor and- they're very different actually. They say opposites attract and I think that’s true for them. Max is a bit introverted, and Y/n is not at all. People think Max is too serious and if I had to add to that, I think Y/n makes him loosen up a bit” Lando states.

“I’d say their loyalty to each other. You know how when you were in school, and the teacher would say, ‘everyone chose a partner’ and you and your friend immediately look at each other? That’s Y/n and Max. They each have a lot of friends but at the end of the day, they’re only looking at each other” Carlos says

“Everything about them together just clicks. If you watch them interact, you can understand how comfortable they are around each other. If Y/n is buying food, she gets extra for Max. If you can’t find Y/n around the paddock, you start looking for Max because he knows better than you do. There’s no hesitation when they touch, whether it’s a hug or just a hand on the shoulder. It’s a combination of how long they’ve known each other and how well they know each other.” Daniel explains.

“Okay, cut!”

2028- “The End of Something Great”

You’ve known for longer than anyone else has. Not because he told you. Because you know him. You don’t know how to explain it, only that you’ve known for almost a year at this point that Max’s contract was ending and he was not going to renew it or look for another team. You think it’s something you’ve always known, since you first saw that Max’s contract was set to end at the end of 2028.

What you don’t know is how you feel about it. You’re happy for Max because he is leaving on his own terms, and as world champion. But you feel like crying once you realize you won’t see him as often anymore. You’ll be best friends always, you know that, but it won’t be the same. Not the same as when you’re driving right next to him, or as when you’re training together, or as when you’re eating breakfast together at hotels.

You’re driving to Red Bull Headquarters for the last time for the 2028 season when you’re thinking about this. You have to turn the radio on to stop yourself from tearing up. Red Bull’s media team is having you two do a ‘On the Sofa: Goodbye Max’ video before he leaves F1 forever and you’ve been dreading it. You’ve enjoyed every second of driving alongside Max Verstappen and you’d do it for another six years if you could.

You take a deep breath as you walk in with May and towards the showroom, where the sofa and your teammate await. The cameras are already rolling and you’re not even in frame yet. You know the people behind the camera want every moment of your goodbye.

You let out a small smile once your eyes meet. “Hi” You move to hug him. “Hi” He whispers back. “You ready?” “No” Another sad smile.

“Hello everyone. I’m Max Verstappen...”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is On the Sofa with Max and Y/n, for the last time” A laugh escapes your mouth and you put your head in your hands.

“I thought you were sad?”

“I am. I just laugh when I probably shouldn’t”

“Y/n” He gets right to it, knowing neither of you are in the mood to joke around before starting. Reading off the card in his hands, “What are three things you will miss most about me as a teammate?” You don’t even bother trying to be funny or careless.

“Um, filming videos for the channel, testing days were always fun because they let us talk to each other while we’re in our cars, and traveling together, I think” Max laughs. “Oh, testing days were never productive, I mean, at least not for us” You laugh along with him, thinking of the fond memories that have accumulated over the years.

“What has been your favorite video we’ve filmed over the years?”

“We’ve done so many I can’t pick just one, so I’ll say…I think the videos where we’re competing against each other. Like that one baseball game we did in Texas one year, and all those races we did on track, like the roller skates and the scooter one, those were fun because we always just ended up laughing”

“The ones where we’re against each other are definitely very fun” You’re both grinning now.

“What are two things that have changed, and two things that have stayed the same over the past six years- wow, six years. It’s been six years?”

“Oh my god we’re so old- you’re 31 and I’m 25. Jeez”

“Old? Six more years and you’ll be 31 too”

“Yeah and you’ll be 37” You snicker.

“Answer the question” Max rolls his eyes fondly.

“Fine. Two things that haven’t changed are the fact that you’re still wearing that fucking hat, and the fact that Red Bull has billions of dollars and refuses to by a more comfortable couch!”

“Yeah this couch sucks”

“Two things that have changed... Well, we’re both old-“

“Stop calling me old”

“and we’re both World Champions” You smile at the camera.

“Okay, Y/n, if you could choose your teammate for next year, who would you choose and why?”

You stop laughing. “I would choose you because I don’t want you to go” Another sad smile. The mood in the room changes. Max pulls you closer and into a hug. “I know” He says to you.

When you pull away, you try to hide the tears shining in your eyes and you’re surprised to see Max turning his head away too. “Y/n” He grabs another card to distract you two. “If you could relive one moment from the past six years, what moment would you choose?”

“I’d relive all of it if I could. I don’t regret a single second and I’d do it all again like that” You snap your fingers, and you don’t hide your face when the tears spring up again. The video is almost over and you both feel it.

“Y/n, if you had one wish right now, what would it be?” Everyone in the room knows the answer to this question and you don’t know why the marketing team chose today to come up with these questions. “I’d wish for you to stay” At that, a tear drips down your cheek and Max brings you into his arms. You freely let water drip down your face and are surprised when you feel a drop or two of water fall on to your shirt. You’ve never seen Max cry , you don’t think anyone has, but for this moment he lets his emotions overpower his pride and shed a few tears.

“Oh god I haven’t cried in a while” You let out a weak laugh when you pull away. “Me either” And then you're both looking somberly at each other, feeling too much to say.

“The last thing we’re going to do is helmet swap” He breaks the silence as you both pull your written-on helmets out from behind the couch. You decided to give Max the helmet you were wearing when you won your second World Championship. Max hands you the helmet he was wearing a few weeks ago, the one he was wearing when he won his fifth and final World Championship. You smile before reading the paragraph written on the side.

“Y/n, when I met you at the factory all those years ago, I did not expect you to become the person you are to me today. You are my best friend, my supporter, and my confidant, and I don’t know where I’d be without you. We’ve made so much history together, and I hope you go on to make some more. Never stop driving, I wish you the best. Your teammate, Max Verstappen”

You hug Max before he can see your shining eyes. “Thank you for everything” He whispers. You both stand up once you pull away but wrap your arms around each other’s shoulders once you do. “I’m saying all my proper goodbyes to everyone later, but I’ll give the gist of it now” The Dutch man looks at the camera. “Red Bull, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. It’s been an incredible past few years. And I don’t say it much but thank you to all my fans. I’m so grateful I’ve been able to race in F1 for so long, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The End. Goodbye!” Max waves to the camera and you join. Everyone behind the camera cheers. You and Max hug for the last time as teammates and you wish time would stop right there. “The end” He says. “The End”

[steviewashere]

Dream Come True

Rating: General CW: Minor internalized ableism on Steve's end Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Adopting a Child, Parenthood, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Let Them Live a Quiet Life God Damn It, Mild Hurt/Comfort

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is about healing each other's wounds."

💕—————💕

They haven’t discussed children since the second month they were together. Was that probably a little too early in their relationship? Probably—Eddie will be brave enough to admit that right now. But, considering where they’re at now: Steve is forty-seven and Eddie’s forty-eight, their wedding bands are simple and gold (something easily spotted amongst the silver ones that Eddie still wears), the house they took a loan out for is painted yellow with white shutters installed (well, they paid Dustin and Will to do it. They were happy to help), they live in Massachusetts away from public eye, and though they don’t have a dog—not yet, the service dog process has been a long and weary one on Steve’s end—they have their little brown tabby cat. They’ve got a well furnished home. And years of love between them.

Nearly twenty-eight years in total. Nineteen years wedded. Six years of that are legally recognized. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is they stopped talking about the prospect of having kids.

Eddie’s initial answer at the beginning was, “Maybe. I think it would be neat. But, I’m gay, Steve. That isn’t really a possibility.” He chuckled a little bit. “I meant like adopting, but in a technical sense—Considering what’s in my pants, the possibility is still out the window.”

Steve’s was changed from what he told Nancy in that Winnebago. “I still want children. Or, just one. I want a quiet life. Even if you make it as some big rock star, I want a quiet private life.”

It was doable. What Steve had whispered on Eddie’s shoulder, that was doable. The question for years though was, When does he want that? And also, When will he leave to pursue that?

The answer was clear. Steve was never going to pursue that. That, sure, they’d have the quiet life. But never have children. And Eddie saw him wilt a little further and further. When they passed by the playground at the park. The daycare up the street from their home. After the seizure diagnosis, Steve stopped looking and thinking about it all together. It hurt Eddie’s heart.

He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.

——— Steve comes home from his Wednesday teaching shift around four in the evening. Eddie’s already on the couch, combing Poncho’s fur, watching the local news. He’s got a very important print out laid neatly on the coffee table. He hears Steve set down his briefcase on the dining table, his footsteps retreating to their kitchen to rinse out his thermos, coming back to the front door and placing his loafers on the shoe rack, and he hangs up his coat. Then, he enters the living room, hands scrambling to undo his tie, body leaning over the arm of the couch to press a kiss against Eddie’s mouth.

But then he pulls away, turning his whole body to watch the news. And that’s when he spots it. The flyer. He shuffles over on his mismatched socked feet, hands falling away from the collar of his dress shirt. He swipes up the paper. Behind his glasses, he squints.

It’s advertisement for the adoption agency some forty minutes out. Eddie hopes, by everything, that this will heal the pain in his own chest, and the emotional line of thinking in Steve’s brain. Hopes with everything that his body can physically give.

“What’s this about?” Steve asks. His voice is neutral. Almost…dare Eddie say, steely. Okay, maybe he made the wrong move. “We haven’t even—“

“I know,” Eddie immediately says. “I know we haven’t talked about it. But, sweetheart, just listen to me, alright?” At Steve’s confused and hesitant nod, Eddie tries to arrange his words. “This is something you’ve been wanting since forever ago. And I know that I haven’t really voiced my wants on it. But I also thought that it would never happen.

“That it would never be something people like me—“ He raises his eyebrows and points to the keyring attached to Steve’s belt loop. The short rainbow garland that sits discreetly among his keys. “—Would ever get the chance to do. But I—Steve, god, I want it so bad. I want to be able to be a dad and chase around a kiddo of our own while you’re busy at work. I want to see one off for school for their first day and cry like I’ll never see them again. Wanna make them a lunch they can bring to school, the same time that I make your lunch for your school. I want to watch them grow up with your goofy dancing skills and our combined love for music. And I—I want to be a better parent that I could’ve ever imagined.

“I want it with you,” Eddie breathes. “I want all of that with you. And I know that you still want it. Your forlorn looks at couples with babies. Every time you see Lucas and Max and their spitfire teenager, your eyes get this brightness to them that I—I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen you happy like that since we got married.” He swallows at some of the implications there. And it’s not meant to be accusatory, but gosh does Eddie notice. The way his sunflower wilts. “This is just something for you to think about, okay? I know my decision on it. But think about it.”

Steve’s grip on the paper trembles. And his eyes are searing Eddie in a way that melts him. Blazing with adoration and love. “You want that?” He shakily asks. “You want to raise a kid with me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. I really, really, really do.”

“Even though…Even though I have seizures that could scare them shitless? And I get so angry some days that all I can do is hide in our bedroom and cry? And I—You want that with somebody like me?” He hesitates to ask again. Eddie doesn’t answer, but his arms open in comfort and his eyes soften with earnest. Steve doesn’t move from his spot, though. He looks back at the paper. “What’s the—Our first step?”

“We apply. And they determine if we’re worthy and that it’ll be safe,” Eddie answers. “If they see us fit, they’ll look at our house and things like that. We’ll come back to that later on. If that’s something you still want.”

“Okay,” Steve states with fervor. “Let’s do this.”

——— After a tedious process, Eddie realizes how correct he was.

It’s a Saturday. The curtains are open. Dinner is simmering on the stovetop. And Eddie stirs the soup while he listens in on Steve’s activity in the living room.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve is cooing. “Good job, Carmen. Look at you.” He’s been supervising her tummy time everyday he’s able to. Loves being able to lay on his back on the floor, eyes watching their daughter, his fingers combing through her hair as she uses her wide brown eyes to wonder about the world around her.

Eddie bites back a smile.

“That’s Poncho,” Steve is saying. He’s introducing them like they’re all acquaintances around a water cooler. Eddie, maybe, snickers a little bit behind his hand. “He’s gonna be your buddy. He likes the space between his shoulder blades scratched. Just like you, huh?” And hears the moment that Steve dully traces his fingernails on Carmen’s back. She gurgles a little excited babbling. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve murmurs. “Daddy likes that, too.” He’s talking about himself. Because he practically fought tooth and nail for that title. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

From the kitchen archway, Eddie surveys the display on the living room floor. And Steve’s on his back in his pajamas. Glasses smooshed awkwardly up his face as his cheek is pressed against the carpet, eyes gone soft and glistening while Carmen is on her belly. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, squeezing at the soft toys they had gotten. He’s brushing his fingers through her short, curly wisps of brown hair. Then, his hand travels back down to massage and scratch at her back again. She’s wearing a pink striped onesie and a pair of white socks on her little feet.

He clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up at him, softly smiling. “I reckon things are going good in here?” Steve only nods, too enamored with petting at Carmen’s back. Eddie finally smiles at him. “Good,” he whispers. He leans his weight on the doorway. A dish rag thrown over his shoulder, arms crossed low over his belly, hair thrown up in a loose bun on his head. Domestic life has really begun to suit him, if he’s honest. He finds himself at ease about it now.

As he turns back to the kitchen, to serve up their bowls of soup, Steve calls his name. He immediately turns back around. Greeted with his husband’s soft face, his deepened smile lines, his messy hair spread on the carpet. He’s more youthful than ever, fatherhood has changed him for the better, at least Eddie thinks so. He hums to see what Steve needs, because by god, he’ll do anything for him.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers.

“For what?”

“Making my hurt go away,” Steve says. But Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. And Steve clarifies, “Allowing me to accomplish my final dream. I’m really happy that it’s with you.”

Eddie crosses into the living room, crouching down to kiss Steve’s forehead, pecking Carmen’s soft head, too. He combs his own fingers through Steve’s hair. Smiling at the way he keens. “You made me believe that I could be a good dad,” he admits. “I can’t wait to do this right.”

Steve brings a hand to Eddie’s cheek. His index finger softly tracing down the side of his face. “Love you,” he murmurs.

Turning his face, Eddie kisses the tip of Steve’s finger. “Love you, too,” Eddie easily says in return.

Sure, he got to be a rockstar, but he thinks that this life—Steve soft and middle aged and smiling at him, petting down their daughter’s back, cooing soft as if he’s not almost fifty—is much better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed. Maybe filling the hole in Steve’s soul, the remedy that their daughter brings—Maybe that heals something for Eddie, too.

💕—————💕

[reallyromealone]

May I have an aged up pure fluff of alpha Kirishima and Ashido brother omega reader ? Just him asking & courting Y/N out, and y/n accepts? Bonus points if there's some overprotective big sis alpha Mina. Pls and thank you!

So many Kirishima fics my goodness

It was at Ashidos birthday where Kirishima met (name), the bright and happy Omega who he helped from slipping "thanks!" (Name) said, Kirishima grinning and help the other stabilize himself "holy shit you're strong" (name) said in genuine amazement "working out daily tends to do that" he joked and (name) made a face as to say 'fair enough' with a small laugh "I'm (name), by the way" (name) introduced himself awkwardly and Kirishima grinned "kirishima! Nice to meet ya!"

(Name) and Kirishima clicked instantly as they chatted away "so what do you do?" Kirishima asked as they went to a quieter part of the party "oh! I run a bakery that belonged to my parents, they wanted to retire so they passed the mantle to me!" (Name) said proudly, it was uncommon for omegas to be business owners so it was truly an accomplishment "I take it you work with Mina?" He asked curiously and Kirishima grinned "you know it!"

It wasn't till after the party Kirishima learned who (name) was "he's my baby brother!" Mina said excitedly as she pulled him into hug, that's when he actually took notice of the resemblances, well fuck.

He was going to be in laws with Mina.

"You wanna court my baby brother?!" "I'm a grown adu--""I would treat him well, he's wonderful and amazing so (name), would you accept my courting?" He pulled out a velvet box and opened it, an ornate collar as standard to courting rituals.

"Yes!" (Name) looked determined at the Alpha "break his heart and I will make your life a living nightmare" mina promised and Kirishima looked at the other seriously"I would let you break my dick in half if I did that"

"Moving in together?" Six months had passed and here the two were cuddling after one of Kirishimas shifts "I have the space... It would help with your omega not liking me away and heats would be easier" (name) looked at him with an unreadable expression "I would like that, Alpha" Kirishima grinned and kissed (name)s face as (name) giggled.

"Babe, I'm back!" His shift over as the sun set through the windows of the small bakery as four heads turned, (name) and the three pups aging 6, 4 and eight months "papa!" The eldest (daughters name) yelled as she ran to him, little (sons name) following "there's my little warriors!" He grinned lifting them in his arms "you two helping your dad?"

(Name) walked over and the two gently kissed "we helped made dinner!"

"Well let's go dig in yeah?"

[champion-prism]

Fuck it. I'm writing confident!Small Might fics.

Like the man is feral, he may be insecure about his ability to be a hero but he ain't insecure bout nothin else no more.

I'm wanna be writing fics about Toshinori who stands tall, unbreakable stance, cat-like reflexes, Toshinori who adapts to his disability and comes out stronger.

Like y'all see my mans in his new fitted clothes? He just casually pulls up in fitted clothes and a leather jacket with messy hair and an absolutely monstrous car. He has a gun with him at all times. American Hero: All Might. Quirk: fucking GLOCK

I like the idea of Toshinori post war realizing he can still dial up the intimidation even out of his muscle form. That it's in his height, his stance, that piercing gaze. And the gun in his hands.

Toshinori who unironically listens to classic rock and a bit of metal. Doesn't realize it makes him look even more like a DILF than he already is.

Toshinori who accepts the massive amount of respect that comes his way post retirement, who takes up valuable positions consulting and advising the Hero Commission, Toshinori who works in non-physical ways to rebuild the world.

Toshinori who starts rebranding himself as the Symbol of Determination, of standing up to adversity, of having an iron will.

He fucks, ok. He fucks.

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Grand Deception - Part One

As a seamstress, you know your way around a ballgown. A ballroom is a different story, but you are determined to experience it for yourself.

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Personal Disclaimer: I wrote this having only watched the Bridgerton tv show. About a week ago, I discovered that Benedict's book-canon love story shares some similarities with my fic. These similarities are coincidental. After posting a poll about the topic, I decided to share this work anyway. Please know I am aware of the situation!

Rating: Mature. Minors, do not interact

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: A lot of backstory, trespassing, lying about identity, alcohol consumption, flirting, references to Regency-era values. Author played fast and loose with rules of Regency dining etiquette.

Next | Masterlist

---

It was of some comfort to you that - when the situation inevitably unraveled - you could not claim to have invented the idea yourself. 

You were hardly the first seamstress who used her skills to disguise herself. Nor were you the first to use her overheard knowledge to learn who may be hosting a masquerade ball so she could attend. 

To that end, Madame Delacroix had told you of her own experience infiltrating the ton’s events. You had learned well, but you were merely another follower, not a visionary. The penalty for your transgression would not change, but your conscience would be eased slightly with the knowledge. 

The single inspiration you could claim as entirely your own was that of your shop. You purchased gowns at the end of every season, researched coming trends for the next season, and altered the gowns to fit. 

Ladies of rich and respectable families were willing to part with gowns for a relative pittance, but most of your gowns were from society matrons. When their time playing chaperone to some wide-eyed miss had ended in a successful engagement, the lucky matron retired to a comfortable life in the countryside. What use did she have for extravagant society gowns there? And, with the style of gathers and ruffles for married women, you could easily fashion multiple gowns from one matronly dress. 

Your shop was hardly the most popular one in London, but you ran a brisk enough business. There were no investors to keep fat with your profits, and you poured most of your money back into the materials and help you hired. It could tax the nerves to operate with such a small amount of money in your coffers, but such was the nature of the business. The lead-in to a season was incredibly busy and profitable, but the off season could ruin you.

But you were happy. Your work was varied and interesting. You worked with sumptuous fabrics in the richest colors. It was a necessity to keep abreast of the latest fashion trends. You truly could not have imagined a better life for yourself. 

And yet… you were unbearably curious about how it would feel to wear one of your creations. You were occasionally hired to style a hopeful debutante, but you handed her off to a chaperone before she walked out through the front door of her own home. You witnessed all of the preparations and you had been party to the aftermath, but you had never had the opportunity to attend a ball. 

It was a silly dream. You were the daughter of a tailor, and not one who served the upper echelons of London society. Your mother spent her time running the household herself - a necessity, as your family could not afford to keep servants. Your brother worked at a newspaper, operating the printing presses. Your sister had married well, wedding a butcher who lived above his shop in a respectable section of the city. 

You had already achieved one silly dream when you had opened your own shop. Rather than satisfying you, that achievement only convinced you that you were capable of incredible things. Why should a ball be the exception?

Fortunately, the ton was an uninspired thing and thus wholly predictable. At least once every season, at least one family believed themselves to be the most creative souls and hosted a masquerade. 

Your ability to foresee the trend had allowed you to plan far in advance. After the last season had ended and you made your purchases, you had bought just enough fabric to fashion yourself a dress. The material was simple, but of high quality, and you had embroidered beading and embellishment enough to allot the finished product an artistic simplicity rather than leaving it painfully plain. 

The mask you had chosen only assisted the illusion of being understatedly gilded. It was a shining silver - not a true metallic mask, but a close enough facsimile that it seemed to be a choice due to the weight rather than the price of the silver. There was a delicate tracery over your brow and along the swells where the mask arched over your cheekbones. 

The effect of the outfit was far from dramatic, especially when you very well knew the sort of dresses that the young ladies of the ton would be wearing at the ball, but you had been purposeful about it. You were trying to fade into the background, and it seemed likely that you would succeed. 

One of your more clever ideas had been to cut the dress as a matronly garment rather than a daring one meant for a debutante. Doing so would relegate you to the realm of mamas, chaperones, and spinsters. Few bothered to steal a second glance at that foreboding cloud of judgment, disapproval, and eager plotting. You were too pragmatic to think your plan foolproof, but you had taken as many precautions as you could imagine.

The Lawsons had been the ones to secure a masquerade theme for the season, and you strategically arrived at the home at eleven, a full hour after the ball had begun. It was a simple thing to slip around the corner of the great manor house, entering through a side corridor. When you passed any of the house’s servants, you ducked your head and nervously arranged your hair. 

With that attitude and countenance, they would likely believe you were returning from some secret tryst in a private place, not attempting to sneak in entirely. Servants were paid for their discretion - at least, in the eyes of the ton - so your exploits would not be disseminated until the following morning at the earliest. 

Your matron-styled dress allowed for a more flexible corset than the most fashionable styles, but you still found that your breath was short as you reached the ballroom. You were thankful for the music, as it gave you a better idea of where your ultimate goal was. 

The room was cavernous, yet filled to the brim with intricate details. A second-story balcony curved around the majority of the room, rather like the opera house you’d had the privilege to visit once. A grand staircase descended from the middle of that balcony, and it was full of still-arriving debutantes and their chaperones. 

The orchestra was sat on the balcony along either side of the staircase, and you noted the way each instrument seemed to take precedence in turn as you walked along the length of the floor. They were playing a quadrille at the moment, and the dancing couples seemed as enamored by the music as much as by each other.  

Above and all around, candles glowed and flickered, casting small pools of light across every surface. A chandelier hung overhead, eye-catching in its size and brightness. The crystals set among the candles sent tiny reflected rainbows dancing across the crowd beneath. The reflectors behind the candles on the main floor helped catch the brightness that would otherwise be wasted on the walls, throwing it out into the room until it looked near daylight. The effect was multiplied by an array of mirrors set around the room, refracting both light and the furor of activity in the ballroom. 

Conversations filled any spaces left in the music. Everywhere, men and women chatted, laughed, and told stories. They were eye-catching with their grand gestures, only made more fascinating with their ornate clothing. You longed for a scrap of paper so you could make note of the styles of this season, and how they might be adapted to meet the styles of the next. 

A table at one side of the room was manned by a servant offering refreshments. You knew from the stories you had heard that a supper would be served at one, but there were beverages for any guest or dancer who may need one. You accepted a glass of iced punch with a grateful nod to the servant. It was remarkably hot in the room, especially compared to the chill of the January evening. 

Sipping the strong punch - and abruptly understanding the wisdom of such small glasses - you ventured forth to find a vantage point for observing the crowd. 

You found one buried in the crowd of matrons and chaperones. They were watching the dance floor with great interest, speculating about matches and comparing notes on how the gentlemen and young ladies had been occupying themselves during the season thus far. It was the perfect location - a view of everything and in earshot of all the information you could possibly desire. Some of the information was likely to be nothing more than rumor, but you cared little. It was entertaining enough to compensate for a lack of veracity. 

“Benedict!” one woman called. She was a handsome woman, dark hair perfectly coiffed to match her elegant dress. You recognized her even from behind as the widowed Lady Bridgerton. 

A man separated from a group of other young men and approached, smiling expectantly. He bore a strong resemblance to Lady Bridgerton, and was wearing the simple black mask that seemed popular among the men of the ballroom. “Yes, Mother?” 

“Do dance with Miss Harper this evening,” Lady Bridgerton instructed. “She needs cheering after the loss of her uncle. And she would be quite an excellent match for you.” 

You wrinkled your nose. Arranged marriages were less common than they had been when you were a child, but the aristocracy still tended to take a heavy hand in deciding their children’s future spouses.

Unfortunately, the young Bridgerton glanced over his mother’s shoulder and took in your expression. You hurriedly glanced down at your glass, as if your face had been a reaction to the strong punch, then applied yourself to staring around the room. 

“I will take that under advisement, Mother,” Benedict said. Your wayward glance prevented you from seeing his face, but his voice was filled with laughter. “If you’ll excuse me?” 

He departed then, retreating back across the ballroom. However, you were far from unobservant, and you counted the multiple times he noted your position from among the group of laughing gentlemen. You did your utmost to ignore him, taking solace in the knowledge that your mask protected your identity from whatever scrutiny he may choose to apply. 

You could hardly pretend surprise when you found him standing beside you scarcely an hour after you had overheard the conversation between Lady Bridgerton and her son. He was facing quite the opposite direction, but you could not fail to miss the way he inched closer every time you took a step away. 

At long last, he bumped into you with his broad shoulder, sloshing your punch onto the floor and still refusing to acknowledge you. 

“And to think Bridgertons are said to be well-mannered,” you snipped waspishly. 

He glanced back at you, eyes bright. “I beg your pardon, miss. I did not see you. Allow me to fetch you a new glass of punch in recompense for my rudeness.”

“No, thank you,” you said, the coldness in your voice detracting from the politeness of your words. “I would not take the risk of another incident.” 

“Did it stain your gown?” he asked, taking your elbow and looking you up and down. However solicitous it may have seemed at first, the mischief in his expression belied the gesture. 

You glared at him until he dropped your arm. “You need not feign concern, Lord Bridgerton. You have apologized, I have accepted it, and my gown escaped the incident unscathed. There is no need to continue our acquaintance.” 

With a final frown for good measure, you turned away. Benedict seemed undaunted, keeping step with you as you found a servant to take your near-empty glass. 

“May I ask your name, then?” Benedict asked, for all the world like you had not dismissed him. 

“Lady Sharp.” 

It was a falsehood you had planned well in advance. The Sharps were one of the largest families in London, some branches so far-flung that no one seemed capable of remembering who was who. 

Despite your confidence in your assumed identity, Benedict paused for a moment and your heart stuttered. At long last, he smiled. “Is that so?” 

“Yes.” 

Perhaps if you continued to be short with him, Benedict would understand that he should leave you well enough alone. 

And yet… The young Bridgerton continued to stay close as you watched the dancers, interrupting your overheard bits of gossip with remarks of his own. His commentary was amusing, but you continued to be irked by his presence. He was drawing attention by standing with the chaperones, dowagers, and doting mothers, and some of that attention was reflected onto you by virtue of proximity. 

“You need not remain close as some form of apology, Lord Bridgerton,” you informed him at last. “You have more than adequately apologized for your earlier misstep, and I would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s scorn if you miss your dance with Miss Harper.”

Benedict shrugged. “Miss Harper is occupied well enough with other partners. It is my duty to see to it that every lady may dance if she chooses. Shall we?” 

You frowned deeply, staring from his face to his proffered arm and back. “I do not dance.” 

He paused at that. “Surely you are simply being modest…” 

“I assure you, I mean what I say,” you told him, voice appalled, “I do not dance. If you feel a particular urge toward the dance floor, I urge you heed it and find a suitable partner before they have all been otherwise engaged.”

Benedict turned slightly, his gaze traveling from one end of the crowded ballroom to the other. When he had completed the visual circuit, he faced you, grinning engagingly once more. “I appreciate your concern, but I would rather continue our conversation.” 

Your mouth fell inelegantly open. Thankfully, the room was called to attention before you could loose a scathing comment about your time together.

Lady Lawson stood at the bottom of her grand staircase, Lord Lawson standing attentively to her left. A servant you recognized as their butler announced in a booming - yet not abrasive - voice, “Lord and Lady Lawson invite you to adjourn to the dining rooms.”

To your dismay, the men and women of the ballroom paired together. The crowd moved steadily in the direction indicated by the butler. 

Benedict offered his arm once more. “May I escort you to the dining room, Lady Sharp?” 

You paused, frantically searching for a reason you might excuse yourself. If the Lawsons had arranged for their guests to sit in predetermined places, your presence would not only be marked, but commented upon and questioned. And yet, the gathered crowd meant that slipping away would be nigh impossible. 

“Lady Sharp?” Benedict asked again, pulling you from your thoughts. “You are attending dinner, are you not?”

“Yes… yes, of course,” you said, immediately belied by your trembling voice. From a sheer lack of options, you accepted Benedict’s arm. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton.”

He inclined his head as if to silently acknowledge your thanks and steered you into the dining room. 

Truly, there was far more than one room in which to dine. There seemed to be at least three hosting tables set with full arrays of silver plates and utensils. The dining areas seemed far less brightly lit than the ballroom was, the low lighting offering a soft intimacy that made the surrounding couples perk with excitement. Clearly, the flirtations of the dance floor would not be suspended due to a simple supper. 

“May I help you find your seats, sir?” 

You had been too entranced by your own thoughts - the sudden appearance of the servant made you start like a spooked horse. Benedict patted your hand. The gesture was a bit condescending, but you found it oddly soothing. Far more worrisome, however, was the sight of small name cards resting at every place setting on the tables.

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he said. “I believe I was to be seated with my family a few tables behind you. This is Lady Sharp. I will dine with her this evening.”

“But sir…” The servant looked bemused, white brows drawing together. “Lady Lawson was informed that the Sharps would not be in London for this year’s season. Lady Sharp reported that Miss Rosalie Sharp was far too ill to be moved out of her confinement in the countryside.” 

You stammered weak protests, but Benedict smoothly interrupted. “Surely Lady Lawson is aware that Lady Clara Sharp decided to winter in London this year. The physician said that a change of scenery would be good after leaving a confinement of her own.”

“A confinement of her-?” The servant shook his head. “My mistress said nothing of this when she was preparing the ball.” 

You gathered your nerve. If your ruse were to fall apart, it would not be at the hand of an overly curious servant. You drew yourself up to your full height, giving your best steely-eyed, matronly disapproval. “I had assumed that my lack of an invitation was no more than an ignorant oversight. However, I begin to suspect that it was something far more intentional. Perhaps it would be best if I departed…” 

“My apologies, Lady Sharp,” the servant hurried to say. “Please, allow me to find a place for you.” 

You inclined your head in the shallowest nod you could muster, watching imperiously as he rushed off to find a place setting for the fictitious Lady Clara Sharp. 

“These events are growing less organized by the day,” Benedict confided, shaking his head in mock despair. 

The servant returned, sparing you the effort of inventing a response. “I will guide you to your seat, Lady Sharp. Lord Bridgerton, you requested your seat moved beside Lady Sharp’s, did you not?” 

“Yes, I believe I should like to dine with Lady Sharp,” Benedict said amiably. 

“Very good, sir,” the servant said. “This way.” 

You did not particularly enjoy the tone with which Benedict said ‘Lady Sharp’. In his voice, it sounded less like a title and more like a private sort of jest. 

Fortunately, your arrival in a far dining room provided a much-needed distraction. This was clearly the last table to have been filled, and as such was seated with an interesting amalgamation of people. 

A timid-looking young lady sat nervously adjusting and readjusting the skirt of her dress. Her watchful chaperone eyed the process with fascination and concern. Seated at the chaperone’s other side was an older gentleman who seemed to have overindulged in punch, if you were to guess from his flushed face and exaggerated gestures. 

On the other side of the table was a young man who kept glancing at the young lady and pretending that it had been accidental any time he was caught at it. Beside him were two place settings. From the lack of name cards above the plates, you assumed they were meant for you and Benedict.

Abruptly, a wave of vertigo washed over you. You had accomplished so much to be here, yet how many accomplishments were too many? It was as if you had climbed something terribly tall - every time you moved upward, it only left you with further to fall. And if you were to be discovered during this dinner? You would have very far to fall indeed.

“Are you well?” Benedict asked. 

You blinked. The servant was holding your chair, waiting to help you be seated. You weren’t hungry in the least, but there was no way to excuse yourself that would not draw more attention than was wise. The only way to return to safety was to continue on as if nothing were amiss. 

“Yes, thank you,” you demurred, moving to your seat. 

When the skirt of your dress was safely tucked under the table, the servant offered a slight bow and moved away. The first course was laid out on the table, a manservant lingering nearby incase someone required a dish from a different part of the table. 

“What may I tempt you with?” Benedict asked. His smile was a touch too wide for the question to be entirely innocent. Before you could say something harsh, he half-stood, fork extended toward a dish holding chilled cuts of meat. 

You took a moment to study everything. “Roast chicken, please. And perhaps a few prawns.” 

Benedict took your plate and began transferring the items you had requested. “Soup as well?” 

“Perhaps a little.” 

You eyed the women across the table. The young lady was picking delicately at a few scraps of meat and you were concerned by the quantity of the choices you had made, but her chaperone was tucking into a plate piled high. 

Benedict placed your dishes back in front of you and gathered his own selections. When you were both seated again, you cut a piece of chicken and ate it as delicately as you could manage. It was delicious and you congratulated yourself once more on choosing to attend the ball dressed as a chaperone rather than a debutante. 

“So, a Sharp in London,” Benedict mused. “I rather believed you all traveled together. Like a herd or a pack.” 

You gave him an unamused look at the animal references. “And you pretended to know all of my family’s concerns when we were finding our seats. Do you always lie to achieve your own ends?” 

He gave a wince, but it was decidedly playful. “‘Lie’ is such a harsh word, Lady Sharp. I simply choose the path most likely to lead to my destination and follow it.” 

“By lying?” 

“And I suppose you are a paragon of virtue?” he asked, and you fell silent. It would be rather paradoxical for you to blame him for a lie when you were currently lying to an entire ballroom of people. 

“That was not an admonishment,” he clarified after a moment. “Nor was it a bid to halt our conversation. I was enjoying myself.”

“From what I have gathered of your temperament, I doubt you often suffer from the lack of enjoyment,” you snipped. “You seem to find infinite amusement in everything surrounding you.” 

Benedict’s eyes widened. “I… am flattered, truly, that you’ve taken such pains to truly detail my character. Perhaps I should return the favor.” 

“Do not.” You regretted the warning a moment after you had issued it. Rather than looking dissuaded, Benedict seemed intrigued.

“Indeed, I may be unable to help myself,” he mused. “Your motivations are fascinating, and they would be even more so if you turned out not to be Lady Sharp after all.”

“I am Lady Sharp,” you insisted stubbornly. 

“Of course you are,” he agreed easily. “But imagine if you were not. Why would you pretend to be?” 

Your mind halted abruptly when faced with the task of imagining your own motivations as if they belonged to another. What should you say? What could you say? For all of his casually friendly demeanor, Benedict was not stupid. It was possible that your false theories of your own motivations would provide him with proof that you were the very person you pretended to understand.

But still, the rules of polite conversation required that you provide some sort of an answer. Your voice was slow as you asked, “Who can begin to guess at the motivations of the poor?” 

It was more harsh than you had imagined it would sound, but Benedict did not recoil. Instead, he replied, “Motivations are mysterious, those of the poor and the nobility alike.”

The answer was vague, but you understood why - his eyes were fixed on the young lady at the end of the table and the young man seated across from her. 

“Miss Barrett, I found the most interesting flower in the park yesterday afternoon-” he started. 

He had the young lady’s attention immediately, a shy smile on her thin face, but her chaperone pointedly cleared her throat before the young lady could reply. “Elisa, it is not proper for you to answer him without being formally introduced.” 

“Finnie and I have been friends since before we could walk!” Elisa argued.

“His name is Lord Finlay Spencer,” the chaperone corrected. “And your childhood acquaintanceship does not matter. You have not been officially introduced in the time since he returned to London.” 

The young pair fumed silently, with nothing more than frustrated glances shared between them.

“Lady Barrett,” Benedict said abruptly, drawing the attention of everyone who longed to be distracted from the tension. “I understand you are a most loyal patron of the arts. Is that so?” 

“It is so, Lord Bridgerton,” Lady Barrett confirmed. “I believe in the importance of preserving artwork for years to come.” 

“As do I.” Benedict smiled at her… and at the red-faced man seated to her right. “And our sentiments are shared by our companion, Lord Hopkins. He has recently donated a number of works to your preferred museum. I believe they are to name a wing in his honor.” 

Lady Barrett turned to Lord Hopkins, an expression of mingled surprise and admiration. “I recently took in the Hopkins collection. Most impressive, Lord Hopkins.” 

Lord Hopkins blinked rapidly, clearly attempting to gather himself. He made an admirable effort as he returned her smile. “You are too kind, Lady Barrett. I mourn the loss of those works, yet they were wasted with only my family to appreciate them. And, if you will pardon my directness, I believe I may have been the only one of the Hopkins family to truly appreciate them.” 

“I am certain the Hopkins family has an interest in art ,” Lady Barrett demurred, “though I understand the sense that one has a keener appreciation for art than those around oneself.” 

With such a topic brought up, the pair slipped into conversation. Lord Finlay Spencer and Lady Elisa Barrett cast grateful glances in Benedict’s direction and began to speak in softened tones to avoid drawing the attention of the elder Lady Barrett.

“Neatly done,” you complimented lowly. “Yet it prompts me to wonder how often you concern yourself in the affairs of others.” 

Benedict shrugged. “I simply enjoy pulling strings to see what unravels. Perhaps that is why I find you so interesting.” 

You arched your brows. “And precisely what string of mine do you believe yourself to be pulling?” 

“That you are not Lady Sharp, of course.” 

He took a sip of wine as you fought to control your expression, and his utter lack of concern was infuriating. 

“Are we to continue this thought experiment, then?” you asked at last. “In truth, I am beginning to find it tiresome.”

“I do not need you to confirm my theory,” Benedict told you. “I have gathered proof enough of my own since we met.” 

“Proof?” you asked, attempting to sound skeptical rather than afraid. 

“You did not wait for an introduction, you claim not to dance, and you did not shyly simper away when I touched your arm,” he listed. “You are no more a lady than I.” 

These arguments were presented without censure, but you loosed an inelegant snort regardless. It was foolish and you knew it, but you could not prevent yourself from showing your own powers of observation: “You are wearing a fine silk shirt, a perfectly pressed cravat, and more perfume than anyone else in the room. I am a lady, so it follows that you may be one as well.” 

Benedict - unbelievably - grinned at your insults, his eyes crinkling at the edges. You fought not to return the expression, though you found it remarkably contagious. “I believe it is called ‘cologne’ when it is worn by a man. I confess, I’ve never quite understood the difference myself.”

“If you believe I am a fraud, why have you kept me company all evening?” you asked. It was not a confirmation of his suspicions, but it was close enough to make your heart race.

“You are interesting,” he countered. “Certainly the most interesting person here, and among the most interesting people I have ever met.” 

You would have found a reason to cut the conversation short if Benedict had pressed for any further information, but he did not. Instead, you continued speaking plainly together through the remaining courses. He wanted to learn your opinions on all manner of things, from politics to the latest fashions. 

When the time came to return to the dance floor, he stayed close. He was charming and amusing, but refused to be parted from your side. It could have been cloying, but you privately thought him akin to a particularly amiable sort of burr.

After a few dances had passed, Lady Bridgerton approached, nodding to you with an assessing sort of look. However, she spoke to her son rather than question you. You were grateful for the slight. “Benedict, I believe I asked you to dance with Miss Harper.”

“You did, Mother,” Benedict agreed, “but Lady Sharp and I are speaking of important matters. I could not possibly tear myself away.” 

Lady Bridgerton gave him a look filled with motherly disapproval and you cleared your throat. “Lord Bridgerton, we may speak at another time. The number of dances at this ball is limited and the hour grows late. I fear Miss Harper will be fully occupied if you delay longer.” 

Lady Bridgerton turned, triumphant, to her son. Benedict sighed and bowed shallowly in your direction. “I beg your pardon, Lady Sharp. I look forward to continuing our conversation after this dance.” 

He wove his way through the crowd, presumably in the direction of Miss Harper. Lady Bridgerton remained by your side, and you glanced at her in the silence. She met your gaze, tilting her head curiously in a manner that reminded you of her son. “I do not believe we have met, Lady Sharp. I am Lady Violet Bridgerton.” 

You returned her nod with one of your own. “Lady Clara Sharp. Lovely to meet you.” 

“I was unaware that any of the Sharp family were in London this season-” she started. Thankfully, she was interrupted by the arrival of a dark-haired young lady.

“Mama, I need to speak with you-” 

“Eloise, I am not-” 

“Mama, please!” the girl insisted, tugging at her mother’s elbow. Lady Bridgerton studied you for another moment before giving an apologetic smile and allowing her daughter to pull her away. 

As cues went, it was a fairly clear one. You steadily worked your way through the crowd until you could slip into an unguarded hall. From there, it was a simple thing to leave the Lawson house, find the cloak you had stored in a disused shed, and travel back to your shop. 

When you had removed the mask and the dress, you took careful stock of the evening. The dress and mask would need to be destroyed, and you regretted not bidding a true farewell to Benedict Bridgerton, but you considered the endeavor a success. 

One that could never be repeated.

---

Author's Note - As usual with Fanfic February fics, this is a two-parter. Tomorrow's chapter will have spice in it, so please be warned.

Thanks for reading!

[almostgenerallyalways]

cross my heart

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (pilot!reader - callsign: Savannah) Category: smut / NSFW (18+), fluff because I want everyone to be happy always Word count: 3,6k  CW: language, allusion to past bad sexual experience (non explicit), me not having any idea how the navy works, literally googled “aircraft carrier diagram”, don’t expect any actual details about the mission lol Author’s note: first time writing tgm and went a lil off the rails. shoutout to @callsignvalley​ @seasonsbloom​ @ohcaptains​ @clints-lucky-arrow​ @steadfastconviction​ and like, a lot of other amazing writers in this fandom whose fics I obsessively read in October Summary: On the eve of what may be the biggest mission in your naval career, the answer to your problem comes to you in the form of Lt. Jake Seresin

Squeezing into the squad galley at a quarter to nine on the eve of the mission, Jake is surprised to see you sitting at the steel high-top table, still in uniform. Days on an aircraft carrier generally start early and end early, and considering the stakes of tomorrow’s mission, the rest of the squad retired to their bunks immediately after dinner.

“Hey, Vanny, still up?” He enquires, noting the way you’re slumped over the counter, head in your palms. He flicks the switch on the electric kettle sitting on the small counter.

After a moment, you look over at him. “So are you, Seresin.”

He gestures to his outfit, sweatpants and a white t-shirt. “I tried to sleep, still too wired. Thought I’d come make myself an herbal tea.”

That makes the corner of your mouth twitch, to his relief. “Can you make me one?”

He sets to work, and a short while later, sits down on the stool next to you, handing you a steaming mug. You mumble a thanks, and both of you sip chamomile in silence for a minute, before you apparently grow tired of Jake staring a hole in the side of your head.

“What?” you glare at him.

He smiles, amused. “Just wondering what’s keeping our unflappable Savannah up the night before a mission. Nervous?”

You stare at the wall. “No.” You take a sip of tea, then concede: “Yes. I guess. In a way.”

He goes a little soft at the way your cheekbones color slightly, and tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on your wrist, still holding your mug. “It’s okay, you know. I know you haven’t done as many of these as some of us, but don’t think anyone flying tomorrow isn’t feeling nervous. Or scared.” He rubs his thumb over the protrusion of your wrist bone, soothingly, he hopes. “I still get scared.”

He wouldn’t say that to just anyone on the squad, and he thinks you know it. In preparation for this mission you two were paired up often, and there’s a trust between you that can only come from eight weeks of preparing for life-or-death together. You’re a good pilot, a great one: not as much of a risk-taker as some of the squad, but solid and dependable, immaculate in your execution, and a stealthier flyer than anyone there. The number of times you snuck up on him and had him locked on your radar before he even realized you were anywhere in the vicinity is, frankly, a little embarrassing to him.

Though you didn’t know each other beforehand, you having been a few years behind him at TOPGUN, he feels like he knows you now – what makes you tick.

So it’s all the more flooring when you turn to him, and after a moment of seeming to examine him, brows furrowed, you ask: “Seresin, will you have sex with me?”

He chokes on his tea, a little, takes a deep pull of air and pulls back his hand from your wrist. He must have misheard you, so he asks, in a tone much higher-pitched than he would like: “Excuse me?”

You don’t seem bothered by his reaction, continuing to fix him with those big eyes, jaw set in a determined look he’s come to know all too well over the past weeks, on the tarmac, in your jet. Never here, in the cramped squad galley past bedtime, looking at him like you’ve made up your mind. “I asked if you’ll have sex with me. Tonight, to be clear. Now, ideally, considering we’re up at 5 AM.”

He turns towards you more, opens and closes his mouth once or twice, before settling on: “Vanny, I need a bit more context here.”

Feels a little like he should kick himself for not just saying yes, Savannah, please, lead the way.

You turn away your gaze from him again, and the color in your cheeks heightens, but he’s not sure he likes it this time. He watches you swallow, before you speak, not sounding as sure of yourself as a minute ago: “I’m not scared, exactly, for tomorrow. Or maybe I am. In any case, I don’t have any illusions about what’s at stake. I know we might not come back.”

And there it is again, the determined set of your jaw: “And for some reason, and trust me – I know it’s ridiculous – for some reason the idea my brain is stuck on is that the last time I had sex was fucking terrible, with my fucking terrible ex who made me feel small and worthless, and I just… don’t want his to be the last hands on me.”

And if that doesn’t fucking break his heart in two, because you deserve – so much more. Everything, Jake thinks, one hand somehow already on your thigh, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from tangling the other one in your hair straight away, from burying his face into your neck, because he needs to know one last thing: “Vanny, why me?”

You’re silent for a beat, and his eyes snap up to yours. He doesn’t know what you see in his face, but it must be good – you smile that wry smile of yours, the one that always feels like a reward to him. You reach out and run the back of your fingers over the side of his throat, and he swallows hard. “Well, Seresin, I’m not going to lie – First of all because you’re here, and I thought you might say yes.”

Then your eyes soften a little, and if he had any hesitation before, you wipe it out altogether: “But mostly because I trust you. Completely. And if you said no – which I would totally understand – I know you’d still get it. That you won’t hold it against me.”

You can’t know, he thinks, how much that means to him. You weren’t around for his more volatile Hangman years, rarely even use his callsign. He’s matured a lot since then, has learned to put the squad before his ego, but still – his reputation follows him. But you never – never held that against him. He started with you from a clean slate.

“Alright, jeez.” He says, grinning, trying to keep his tone light, probably undermined by his now desperate grip on your thigh, the urgent way he’s already pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, the fact that he feels his sweats straining against him. “Could’ve bought a guy a drink first, but fine, Savannah, I’m in.”

* * *

You stumble back to Seresin’s bunk – as a higher-ranking officer, he has private quarters, while you share with Halo and Quicksand, who are hopefully long since asleep. You try to make as little noise as possible, in the narrow, echoing steel hallways, because you don’t need anyone finding out about this: fraternizing is strictly off-limits, even more so within the same squadron, and your CO would boot both of you off the mission without a second thought.

More likely they’d just boot you, because Seresin’s got double insignia to your single, and he’s a man; this is still the Navy, and you’re a realist. So you try to be quiet.

But it’s real goddamn hard with Seresin’s hands under your shirt, burning trails up the side of your ribs, and his body flush with your back, nose pressed behind your ear. You fumble with the doorhandle, and you feel, more than hear, his hot chuckle as he nips at the skin over your pulse point. “What’s the matter, baby girl, do you need help?”

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, but it cannot be convincing, at this point. The latch finally clicks, and he scoops you up, depositing you in the cramped, windowless room.

He locks the door behind him, and for a second you just stare at each other, by the low light of the reading lamp left on over his bunk. The carrier creaks around you, the sounds of its merciless progress through the high seas ever-present, seeping up from the engine room three decks below, reminding you that every minute brings you closer to the inevitability of tomorrow’s mission.

All day it’s been making your skin crawl, but right now, with Jacob Seresin looking at you like that, you think you wouldn’t notice if you were down in the engine room itself. Or standing in the middle of I-5.

One more beat, and it’s like someone’s fired a starting pistol: his hands cradle the side of your face, and he’s bearing down on you, finally kissing you in earnest. Your brain blanks out for a hot second.

Somewhere in the back of your head, it occurs to you that you’ve never been kissed like this before, and it would almost be sweet, the way he’s pressing his forehead to yours, roughly tangling his fingers in your hair, if it wasn’t for the hard length of his erection pressed into your abdomen.

He's talking to you, cursing incoherently under his breath, and of course he’s a talker – of course he never shuts up – and you have to grin, pull back for an instant. “Damn, Seresin. If I’d known you’d be so into the idea, I’d have asked you back on base.”

He chuckles darkly, hands never leaving your hair. “It might surprise you to learn, Vanny,” he presses another kiss to your mouth, to your throat, “that I’ve thought about this a fair amount. I mean, I’m willing to bet every guy on the squad has, but I’m definitely bringing up the average.”

It makes your knees weak, thinking about him thinking about you, and you need to take back some semblance of control, so you make quick work of the buttons on your shirt, shrugging out of the fabric. You’re just wearing a black sports bra, because everything on the carrier has to be functional, not pretty, but still Seresin seems to come up short for a moment, eyes drinking you in.

As if snapping out of it, he groans. “Baby girl. You gotta give me some warning before you pull stuff like that.” He kisses you again and guides you back, insistently, until the back of your thighs hits the edge of the bunk. His calloused hands roam the planes of your exposed skin, your arms, your stomach, your sides.

“You’re so beautiful, Vanny,” he’s murmuring into your ear, seemingly almost trembling as your hands find their way under his shirt, travel up the solid muscle of his back. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You meet his eye, but find you suddenly can’t get the words out. You don’t know if you’re just getting shy (and how inopportune that would be, right now, with Jake Seresin’s thumbs hooking under the stretchy material of your bra, your nipples responding immediately, goosebumps appearing on your skin), or if it’s the intensity of his gaze that has you at a loss for words. You open your mouth, close it again.

“I’ll tell you what I want then, Vanny,” he says, kissing you again, hard, one hand traveling down to grab your ass. “I wanna make you forget anyone else ever had their hands on you. I wanna make you feel so good you won’t remember ever feeling small.” His hands fumble with the button on your khakis, and your head buzzes with the feeling of him, face pressed into your neck, speaking directly into your ear. “I wanna make you cum so hard you won’t remember that guy’s name, alright, Vanny? Is that what you want?”

You already feel like you’re about to explode, but you manage to wrench his face into your field of vision, meeting his eyes. Standing your ground. So he knows you really fucking mean it when you say, “Yes, Seresin. I want all of that.”

The devil himself couldn’t slap away the smirk that spreads over his face, as he looks down at you, his hand finally dipping into your soaked panties. When his fingers make contact with your clit, your knees buckle, and his other arm wraps around you, holding you up. “Alright, baby girl.” He inhales deeply, into the skin of your throat. “But you’re gonna have to call me Jake.”

* * *

You lose track of time shortly after he makes you cum on his tongue. You think you may cry, you’re not sure, because you feel like your brain is on reduced capacity as Jake comes up to grin down at you, as he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone, kissing you tenderly as if he didn’t just make your entire body short-circuit. “You taste so good, baby girl,” he’s saying, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “You look so pretty coming for me, Vanny, I wanna make you feel good always, wanna hear you say my name-”

“Jake,” you interrupt him, holding him by the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to focus. Your hand goes to the front of his sweats, where there’s a dark stain of pre-cum, and your brain doesn’t know what to do with that information.

You trace your palm down his length, impossibly hard, and he groans, closing his eyes, so you call him back to attention: “Jake. Please tell me you have a condom.”

And of course he does, you wouldn’t have expected otherwise. He stands up to get it, takes the opportunity to step out of his sweats. Your mouth goes a little dry.  

His pupils are fully blown as you nudge him back onto the thin mattress, move to take him into your mouth, but you barely get the chance to run your tongue down his length before he’s pulling you up by your hair, gently, restrained: “Baby girl. Vanny. I’m not gonna last three seconds if you do that right now.”  

He takes the condom from you, tears it open and rolls it down his cock, and for the first time since you crossed the threshold into this room you have a second and a half to really look at him, to think, and you think:

Fuck.

Because somewhere between your proposition in the squad galley and this moment, right now: you sitting on Jake Seresin’s thighs, watching him laying down before you, glistening with sweat, looking up at you like you’re the only thing that could possibly matter in the world, something changed. You know it. You can’t bear to let yourself wonder if he knows it.

Then he’s pulling you in towards him, almost dragging you down for an open-mouthed kiss, and you’re gripping the base of his cock, letting yourself sink down onto it, going slow to accommodate the stretch of him.

All the while, he’s speaking lowly, frantically, directly into your mouth: “Vanny, Vanny, Vanny, fuck, baby girl, my girl, feel so good, feel so –”

Cuts off when you bottom out, and the expression on his face would make you laugh if it wasn’t for everything else that is happening right now. As it is, your heart does a funny little jump, and all you care about right now is making him feel good, make him feel like he’s made you feel.

You tentatively roll your hips, and he groans, so you keep doing that, supporting yourself with a hand on his shoulder, finding your rhythm, and it’s not long before his fingertips are digging into your hips so hard you think he may leave marks, and you want that, want to go up into the sky tomorrow with his fingers printed on your skin; proof that this happened, that for this moment deep in the cavernous steel halls of this Nimitz carrier, Jake Seresin made you feel just like this.

“Vanny.” He’s saying, and you brush your hand over his jaw, feeling like this whole ship could sink right now and you wouldn’t care. “Vanny, beautiful girl,” he brings his palm to your clit, presses his fingers between your bodies, “You’re doing so good, Vanny, I can’t fucking – I’m gonna – I need you to come, baby girl, you’re so good for me, you feel so good on me, you look fucking perfect on top of me, I can’t –”

“Jake.” Your voice breaks, and you’re there, right where he wants you, right where you want to be, and your whole brain stutters and whites out, and you’re kissing him desperately as you come, emotion high in your throat.

Feel his shaky hold on your hips, fucking into you erratically now, any sense of control gone. It’s only a few more moments before he’s groaning into your shoulder, a guttural sound that hits somewhere deep in your chest, and you ride him through it, burying your face into the side of his, telling him how good he’s been, how perfect.

It takes a minute or two for either of you to breathe anywhere near normally again, and then you’re drawing yourself gently off him, and he takes a second to wrap the condom in a tissue before he’s pulling you back down to his chest, pressing kisses to your temple. “Holy shit, Vanny,” he rasps, and he seems delirious with it, and you’re glad it’s not just you – you feel absolutely stupid with it.

You prop yourself up on one elbow to look down at him, and you can’t help the grin that breaks out across your face at the sight of him. You wipe a bead of sweat off his brow, leaning down to kiss the hollow of his throat, his mouth, his cheek, murmuring thank you, thank you, thank you.

He wraps his arms fully around you, so you collapse against his chest again, groaning: “Knock it the fuck off, Savannah, I swear to God if you say thank you one more time –”, but the rest of that sentence is forgotten as he buries his face in the crown of your head.

“Stay a little while.” You hear him say, muffled. “I know you have to wake up in your bunk, but just… don’t leave yet, baby girl.”

And you’re fairly fucking sure you’d give him anything he wanted right about now, so you stay, letting him rub circles into the skin of your back. After a while he murmurs, voice heavy with sleep: “I’m glad you’re not my wingman tomorrow. I don’t think I could’ve done this, if…”

He trails off into nothing, but you get it, understand what he’s trying to tell you, and you wrap your arm around his waist a little tighter, keep on laying there listening to his heartbeat until its slowing rhythm tells you he’s fallen asleep.

* * *

The mission is fucking terrifying, but you do what you do best: shut the non-Navy part of your brain off and fly like you’ve been trained to. Don’t think, just do.

“Hell fucking YES, Halo!” You shout, as you clear the last danger zone, heart in your throat, and she laughs, exhilarated. You and her are a well-oiled machine, completely in tune, playing off the beat of each other’s actions and reactions.  

It’s intoxicating as always. There’s something about being up in the air, hitting every mark exactly as planned, then abruptly changing gears, accounting for the unaccountable – it makes you feel larger than life. Makes you feel like you were born to be up there.

You take a few seconds to enjoy the feeling, now that you’re safe to do so, and follow your lead fighter in the direction of the carrier. Clear skies all the way there.

It’s also fucking exhausting. By the time you climb out of your jet and hit the searing tarmac of the flight deck, you’re exhausted, drenched in sweat. You feel like you’ve used all the available adrenaline in your body, and you’re ready to keel over.

Then Jake’s wingman comes in, closely followed by Jake himself - the very last jet to land.

Always with the penchant for the dramatic.

You chug water, waiting for him to emerge, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. People are excited now – the last pilot safely on deck, minimal damage. Mission accomplished. There’s something charged in the air, relieved, exhilarated even.

You watch Jake take his helmet off, his eyes immediately searching the throng of people around him, before he spots you.

When he starts towards you, pushing past engineers and pilots and LSO’s with the widest fucking grin you’ve ever seen on his face, you know you’re in deep trouble. Your stomach swoops. It doesn’t stop your own smile from spreading.

He comes to a halt in front of you, too close for propriety. The proximity makes your skin flush, which is a feat, considering you’ve just spent the better part of an hour roasting in the cockpit of a Super Hornet.

“Seresin.” You look up at him, telling yourself you can’t kiss him. You really can’t kiss him right here in the middle of the flight deck, if you have any sense of self-preservation left for your career, you remind yourself; but the point is moot when he lifts you, extra fifteen pounds of flight gear and all, into his arms.

You let out a surprised laugh, and over Jake’s shoulder, you see Halo giving you a look, like: really?, but after another second passes, the corners of her mouth twitch up, and she nods at you almost imperceptibly.

And Jake, his sweat-drenched face pressing into your neck, is whispering: “Alright, Vanny, seeing as how you’re still alive, will you still need me?”

So you slide your hands into his damp hair and look down at him, grinning, hoping your face conveys all the things you can’t yet say: “You better count on it, Jake.”

  ----

omg thank you bb for reading if you made it this far 

almostgenerallyalways’ masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“There was someone here. I know it. It was him.”

The officer stands before the broken vase, staring down at the jagged shards and crumpled petals. You hadn’t dared to touch it as you waited for the cops to arrive. You hear his partner in the kitchen and you peek through the archway as she looks into the mug on the table.

“You like flowers,” she remarks.

“I…I don’t know where that came from,” you insist, “please, I told you, I shut the window–”

“It’s late, you’re sleepy,” she insists, “seems like you’re a fan.”

She takes out the head of the poppy and swirls it between her fingers as her eyes drift down to your ankle. You hide your foot behind the other as your tattoo is left exposed at the tail of your robe and gown. You cross your arms, digging your nails into the back of your arm.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“Listen, lady,” the other officer approaches, crushing the glass further beneath his soles. So much for evidence. “We’ve got a hundred other calls. Real trouble. Assaults, murders, not some broken vase and an open window.”

“You don’t understand. I heard him–”

“Him?” The female officer comes to the archway, “who’s this him?”

“The man from the shop,” you exclaim. Haven’t they been listening? “I told you, he’s been watching me and then, then he scared away my student–”

“Sounds like you have boy troubles,” she rolls her eyes and flicks the poppy at you. You catch it as it bounces off your chest, “we’re not here for couples’ therapy. You got no proof he was even here tonight. Let me tell you, honey, when they break in, they break in. They don’t just slide the window open nicely and leave flowers.”

It’s just like college. Just like the dean telling you there’s nothing they can do. All the girls in your class looking at you from the side of their eye and castigating you. You should’ve know they wouldn’t hear you.

“I–” you begin and stop yourself, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“You really have,” the male officer says, “we could be out there doing something for someone in actual danger.”

“I’m s-sorry–” you sputter.

“Have a good night, ma’am,” he nods to the staircase and waits for his partner to lead him.

You sigh and follow them, trailing them down to the front door and locking it behind them. You peek through the stained glass panels, trying to track their silhouettes until you hear their car doors. You don’t understand. You do everything right. No matter how right everything is, it always goes wrong.

You check the lock a second time, turn, step towards stairs, and spin back to make sure it’s in place a third time. Locked, but is it enough to keep him out?

🎹

Several days and as many sleepless nights. You don’t retire to the bedroom but stay in the front room, laid out on the couch in the glow of a lamp, with a book, watching the window. Every creak, crack, and croaks fills you with dread.

There are spurts of sleep as you find yourself smothered by fatigue, but you mostly rest in the day between your usual chores.

No more lessons. You’ve removed the post as the calls came in. Every single student gone. All your hard work whittled away to nothing. It’s devastating by you can’t really feel it past the fear.

That day you must go to the bank. You have an appointment to talk about your investments and you have brittle determination to figure this out. Your nights have been spent as much on the internet trying to do just that.

The electronic store sells cameras. One goes at the doorbell while you can buy some add-ons to cover the backyard. You’re not sure it will help but you hope it will give you peace of mind for a good night’s sleep.

You dress. A burgundy cardigan over a pressed white blouse and a straight black skirt with a flared hem. Flats with a thin strap on your feet and a matching purse with a thick strap. The outfit makes you feel almost normal.

You descend and open the door. You stop short as you look down at the unexpected shape awaiting you. A bulbous crystal vase with a cluster of poppies, peonies, and roses. There’s a red ribbon around the neck and a plastic stem with a card stuck in the middle.

You step back inside and slam the door. How long have those been there? He’s been back. Again. Why would he leave those? Flowers? As if this is somehow romantic. As if you would ever want them.

You shudder and press yourself to the wood as you try to catch your breath. What do you do? You won’t bring them inside. Never.

You take a breath, steeling yourself as you feel the stinging in your eyes. You’re so scared. Pathetically so. A bouquet of flowers could drive you to tears. No, you can handle this. You just have to make it clear.

You spin and open the door. You pause to lock up and adjust the strap of your purse. You kneel to pick up the vase of flowers and go to the edge of the porch. You peer up and down the street. There’s nothing out of the usual. Nothing that betrays him but the flowers in your hands.

You march down the steps and up the walk. You go to the neighbours bin and dump the vase and everything inside. You let the lid fall and you carry on down the pavement. 

Don’t look back, don’t look up. You focus on the leather toes of your shoes as you flee the scene.

🎹

Your stomach swims with anxiety as you come to the door of the bank. Your meeting with the advisor was not entirely disastrous but you feel rotten walking out with a good chunk of your savings. The bare minimum to get you through the next month. To let you figure out what to do next.

You don’t know if you’ll try lessons again. You don’t know you could. You might be able to get some adult learners, they might be more open than uptight mother’s and their coddled children. Or you could go to the nursing homes and offer to play with the seniors as a recreational aide. You did that in high school but you know the pay isn’t much.

Or you could hunker down and try what you always wanted to do. What you were too afraid to try. Play out the songs you’ve got in your head. Your own songs. The ones that tell your story. The one redeeming quality of the internet is how it opens a whole market to creativity.

But that’s a lot and it’s all overwhelming to think of. You can’t make yourself sit down and play. Not since that night. You keep the keys covered and refuse to even look at the piano. Your piano. The greatest gift you ever got.

You push outside and the warm sun beams down on you. The cardigan was too much. You slip it off as you walk along the curb and a sudden mechanical roar reverberates in the air. You can feel the tremulous ripples of sound as the bike veers across the parking lot and the tire stops just before the lip of the pavement.

You yipe and press yourself to the rough brick of the bank. You face the rider in horror. You see his face in your mind before you see it there before you. Steve quiets the engine, feet planted to keep the bike steady as he keeps a single hand on the handlebars.

“No, please,” you throw a hand out desperately, “leave me alone.”

You shove away from the wall and scurry off, clutching your purse as your flats slap on the ground. You hear a click and the jostle of the bike. His steps come up behind you and you speed up, refusing to glance back.

“Sweetheart, please, I’m trying to apologise. Let me give you a ride. It’s hot out–”

You shake your head and whimper, nearly in a run as you sense his urgent pursuit. There’s a catch on the fabric of the cardigan and you’re drawn back to face him as you clutch it tight. You cower as you try frantically to dislodge it from his grip.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry–”

“Sorry? You… you ruined my life. My business–”

He blinks in exasperation, keeping his grasp tight on the red wool, “sweetheart, I was upset. You weren’t very nice to me either.”

“I told you, no,” you quaver and let go of the sweater, “why are you doing this?”

His cheek dimples in confusion and shakes his head, “sweetheart, why are you talking to me like this? Like I’m a bad person. Didn’t you get my flowers? Did you read the card?”

“I don’t want them.”

“How can I make it up if you won’t let me?”

You’re stunned by his pleas. Suddenly he is not the fearsome wolf at your door, but the plaintive fawn begging for forgiveness. He’s playing at something that isn’t there. That never was.

“You were in my home.”

The tip of his tongue pokes out slowly as he inhales and a tension tightens his shoulders, “I was checking on you–”

“I barely know you!” You bluster out, “leave me alone! I don’t want to know you! Go away!”

He clicks his tongue and looks down at the cardigan. He brings his other hand up to feel the fabric and examines it closely. You take a step back as he raises it and smells it deeply. He lowers it as his blue eyes flick up to meet yours.

“I know you. I knew the moment you walked into that shop,” he growls, “you’re the one.”

You squeak and lean back on your heel. The world spins as you do too, breaking into a sprint at once. Your fear keeps you moving, keeps you puffing and pumping your legs. You don’t stop, you don’t look back. Not even as the bumper of a car nearly collides with you and a honk blares in your ears.

Run and don’t stop until you get home. Lock the door and don’t come out.

[dcfanfictioncatalogue]

barbara gordon JAN 2024 fic awards

another installment of "fic awards," where I comb through every fic posted/updated in a character tag for a specific month and find my favorites! there were more this month for babs than there were in december which made me really happy :) hope you enjoy!

-> Currently Updating <-

Hot Chocolate and Fruitcake, by HermesDay. 2.9k, G, dickbabs focus, 1/2. my summary: babs, through moments where she realizes she may be asexual. my notes: I loved the pacing of this -- babs' internal struggles coming to terms with her asexuality, the missteps she makes along the way. dick being incredibly respectful without even knowing what's going on. the cliffhanger made me yell a little, but I cannot wait to see how it's going to resolve!

&&

Homecoming as Labyrinthian, by cabezas_de_vaca. 22.1k, T, gen, 7/12. my summary: babs comes home from college, determined not to get back in the game after giving up batgirl. of course, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. my notes: I know I already put this one on december's list, so check there for more concrete thoughts, but it updated again in january, which means on this list it goes! it would have been amiss to not recommend it again.

-> Whump & Angst <-

Interrupting Bat, by partybarge. 1k, G, gen. my summary: babs yells at bruce about his treatment of cass. my notes: aurgh... every time I think about batgirl 2000 I start sobbing and this is why!! bruce and babs, cass and bruce, babs and cass... everyone's messy relationships are on display here. this fic says so much in barely 1,000 words and I'm obsessed.

&&

Grave Promises, by PsycholoGeek. 3k, G, gen. my summary: after jason's death, babs builds a safehouse for children in crime alley. my notes: there are ever so many stories about batfam members making safe spaces for kids in crime alley, but something about babs doing it just hits different. because she can't do all of the things she's used to doing, but she does everything she can anyway. and she does it through interaction with the community, instead of violence.

⇘     click for more!     ⇘

-> Action & Plot <-

objects in a mirror, by clytemnestras. 2.7k, T, gen. my summary: four vignettes about the girls of the batfam. my notes: LOVE this!! one of these vignettes is babs pov, and helena's also contains quite a lot of babs and her and helena's relationship, so I figured it belonged on this list. I absolutely adored the way babs was written here and

&&

Oracle: rise and fall, by chick_with_wifi. 4.4k, T, gen. my summary: a look at babs through time, and her relationship with the title of oracle. my notes: this fic ends up tracking her emotions in response to canon events over the years in linear order, which, honestly, if you don't know anything about babs, this is an excellent rundown.

-> Fluff & Humor <-

we'll all be here forever (you're gonna go far), by theragingstorm. 2.4k, G, dickbabs focus. my summary: a little futurefic about bruce finally retiring and giving the mantle to cass, told through a gentle moment of dick and babs talking to each other about the future. my notes: this falls into this category under fluff, but it's bittersweet, and I love that. the casual inside jokes, the relief these two find with each other -- it's something I find tremendously endearing.

&&

they see me rollin', by ELLIDIOTT. 3.7k, T, gen. my summary: a fluffy little fic about babs and her wheelchair, in stories of her and the batfam. my notes: cute!! like this is genuinely just sweet pure fluff and I love the way both babs' relationship with her physical body and also the members of the batfam are showcased in snippets over time.

send me an ask for fic rec lists ++ to find a fic lost to the sands of time

[intoxicated-chan]

Hi punk :)) I love everything you write and the fact that this is a dark blog, so I thought about requesting something dark. I’ve read a few of your fics inspired by songs and I really like this one: like a tattoo by Sade. From the min 1:35 to 1:56. Maybe captain John price with a reader that is part of the 141 and ends up betraying them like Graves? Price and reader had a relationship and he was totally in love with reader, and reader used him to get info as he is the captain, reader also had feelings but couldn’t do anything to avoid the outcome, angsty ending maybe?

Hungry for Life or Love?

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // John Price x F!Shadow!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // You we’re determined not to fall but who wouldn���t fall for him?

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “Like a Tattoo” by Sade, love the song. Apologies that it took me awhile, I had massive writers block on top of work. For those who may be confused, the italics part towards the end, I’d say it happened after Laswell was captured. Why? I don’t know since I added last minute and didn’t want to change it.

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 1.5k

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Female reader, angst, swearing, violence, blood, bombs? Mentions of death/death, pet names (love), injuries…

You tried, you really tried. Graves warned you not to fall in love but how could someone not? You adored listening to what he’d want after retirement, or how he spoke proudly of anyone in 141. Yet you were riddled with guilt, this facade you put on just to get information out of the captain broke your heart yet you wanted to make your commander proud.

Yet it was more than heartbreak when you had the gun pointed straight at his head, it was more than shame, you truly loved John Price. But the shouts of your commander and the rest of your comrades… You were a disgrace. You knew after Graves took over Alejandro’s base, he was going to kick you off the Shadow Company.

“Your eyes are beautiful.” John comments,

You snort, “Yeah right.”

He grabs your chin, making you look at him, “They shine beautifully in the moonlight.”

You told him lies to give him a sense of security he needed, breaking down his walls piece by piece, and everytime you did, you wished someone caught on to your act. You wished someone would tell John that you were a bad influence yet everyone in 141 cared for you as if you were their own member. It sickened you and just when you’re ready to call it quits, your commander was the one pushing you back out there.

You joined the Shadow Company with the promise that things would be different, that the Company was supposed to help. You should’ve known that it was all lies, from the second Graves had you transferred to 141, and with your order… You couldn’t take it anymore, the Shadows saw it, and Graves saw it.

“You’re out of line Graves.”

Graves chuckles, “I’m out of line? you should be saying that to the whore sleeping with your captain.”

“Don’t you dare call her that.” Johnny growls, itching to get his hands around his neck, “I should-!”

“Don’t do that. Don’t… Do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

“Are you threatin’ us?” Ghost asks, his hand hovering over his hidden knife.

“Soldier, I don’t make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this.”

Johnny grabs his radio, “I’m calling (L/n).” He starts to walk away.

“(L/n) has been a great soldier to the both of us, but I gave her a job and she fulfilled it.”

“A job?”

“Didn’t you think it was strange I had someone from my company sent over to you and just a few months later, they’re sleeping together.” Graves states, “Her job is over, it’s time for her to rest.”

The sudden explosion was hours off into the distance but it was quite noticeable, the smoke in the night sky along with the roaring sound, then Graves comms comes on.

“Sergeant (L/n) is KIA.”

“A body?” Graves speaks.

“Gone, along with any evidence.”

“Graves… You didn’t.”

“Stand down, you have your orders and now you have yours. This ain’t some negotiation!” Graves shouts, “Don’t make me send you down the same path as Sergeant (L/n), I’m sure she wouldn’t want you dead.”

“Cabrón!” Alejandro lunges as Graves. He and one of his men push Alejandro against the vehicle and restrain him.

“Graves, what the fuck?!”

Johnny dodges their gunfire and uses a Shadow as a human shield. Ghost elbows a second Shadow behind him in the face and then uses his knife to stab the third in the neck before throwing the same knife into a fourth.

Alejandro puts his restrained arms around a Shadow’s neck, “Get your fucking hands off of me-” Graves knocks him out before turning his attention back to Johnny. He grabs the Shadow’s firearm and fires at one, killing him. Graves shoots Johnny in the arm, sending him backwards to the ground with a dead Shadow on top of him.

“Go, Johnny! Get out of there!” Ghost shouts in desperation, “Soap- Go!”

“Get him, now!”

You kneeled on the ground, watching a cat through a glass. It follows the taps of your fingers against the glass, hearing it meow, and yawn.

“Sergeant (L/n).” A Shadow comes to your side, “The car is prepared. Graves it awaiting you.”

“Of course he is.” Guilt bubbled in your stomach, “Let’s get this over with.”

You hoped something was blocking the way with each turn, you hoped that something would go wrong with the car. Yet you knew it was time to face the facts, face the people that you lied to, and face the man who you love… You feel the hot tears fall down your face and onto your lap, no noise left your mouth as you silently sob.

The car comes to a halt, maybe… Just maybe.

You clear your throat, wiping away the remaining tears, “What’s going on?” You ask one Shadow.

“Wait here, someone’s up ahead.” The two leave the car, leaving you alone. You could take this chance, make a run for it? Mess with the car? Or await your humiliation that you deserve. You guess the drive back home with Price would always be a dream, not a reality.

“What is taking those guys so long?” You step out of the car, trying to look through the rain and fog, “What the hell are they doing?” You sigh.

The car is blown off the road, taking a few tumbles before hitting the bridge but dangling off it. You gasp for air, smoke filling your lungs. You could barely hear the two Shadows walking up, the lights of their flashlights blind you as you struggle to even pull yourself up.

You fumble with your seat belt, ready to call for help.

“Think it killed her?”

“It should or else Graves will have our asses.”

“Wait! I think I see her moving.”

You manage to free yourself, falling forward and hitting the car seat with a cry.

“She’s still alive!”

“Dammit.”

You see them coming close, you drag yourself to the back of the car, “What the hell are you doing?!” You shout, grabbing your pistol. You aim it through the broken glass, “Assholes.” You fire, watching one Shadow drop to the ground.

“Kill her! Before she kills us!”

You take your chance and hurry out of the car. Gun aimed straight at the standing Shadow.

“Care to tell me what you boys are doing?” You pant, “Because I’m pretty sure this is perfect grounds for discharge.”

“You should’ve stayed in the car Sergeant, you don’t know what you have done.” He spoke, slowly reaching for his gun.

“I know what I’ve done! Doesn’t mean Philip has to kill me!”

“It’s more than what you think.”

Before you could speak, the Shadow on the ground quickly got to his feet, landing a strong kick to your stomach, you nearly fell over the edge. You hold onto the ground for dear life, trying to pull yourself up, “I respect you, Sergeant, but I also respect Commander Graves.”

“Wait-!”

“Then pull the trigger, love.” John mumbles, watching your hands shake as the head of the gun is pressed up against his head, watching your eyes begin to water, “Pull the trigger and your job will be complete, just like what Graves wanted.”

You knew Gaz had his sniper aim at you, “Don’t shoot Gaz.”

“But-”

“I said don’t shoot.”

“You’re an idiot.” You begin to cry, “You should’ve seen the signs… You should’ve known!”

John stands to his feet yet you keep your distance, you keep your gun on him, “It’s strange, isn’t it? A Captain who’s always cautious…” He takes the gun from your hands, taking your hand into his hands, “Yet here I am, holding the hand of a woman whose mission was to play me like a fool. But no matter how my heart aches, how I feel betrayed… I could never love anyone else the way I still love you.”

“...You’re a fool, John.” You quickly reach for your knife, ready to stab John.

“Don’t shoot!” He tries to tell Gaz.

Gaz fired, you lunged and John tried to cover you. The bullet tore through your cheek, burning throughout your arm. You fall into John’s arm, the pain swallowing you entirely that it was difficult to stand, yet you tried to ignore it, pushing yourself out of his arms and tripping over your feet.

John feels the blood spilling onto his chest, he grabs your face which makes you hiss loudly. A long, deep gash across your cheek, “Call a medic!”

“Don’t!” You push him, “I don’t need one.” You hand comes to your cheek, trying to apply as much pressure while ignoring the pain, “I have a mission to fini-”

“Enough of this (Y/n)!” John grabs a hold of your arm, “Why? Why do you still defend him? Why do you still follow him?!”

“I…”

“Drop the knife (Y/n).”

“I…”

“Let me help you.”

“Even if you could help me… You still won’t forgive me.”

You missed his embrace, his warm touch, the smell of his cigar in his breath… But the cold water gave you all the comfort you needed, even when you thought differently.

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[loserdiaz]

new tag game: temptation tuesday!

Rules: share something about an idea you have/something that's speaking to you/an au you'd like to see and are considering writing/etc. etc. Basically anything that is tempting you away from your current wips!

tagged by my loves @honestlydarkprincess @cowboy-buddie @fatedbuddie @jobairdxx @souschefdiaz @buddiearemydads and @alyxmastershipper 💗

I have a few so...

i have the ted lasso au in mind that @buddierights yelled at me to write at some point in the future. i have a few ideas for it: either both buck and eddie as soccer players kind of rivals but in the same team (like roy/jamie), model buck and soccer player eddie (like roy/keeley) orr reporter eddie and soccer player buck (like trent crim/ted) in this one eddie would be a reporter writing a book on the team after drastically deciding to change his career and well, buck kinda has a crush on him bc how could he not.

there's the vampire buck and nurse eddie au i never started (eddie gives buck blood bags basically)

i have a divorced buddie au that @alyxmastershipper keeps feeding into my obsession for it! inspired by this tik tok buck and eddie are a recently divorced couple (i'm thinking maybe bc buck took a job as captain of the station after bobby retires and the lafd wouldn't let eddie work under his command so they weren't partners anymore and they started spending less and less time together, buck being busy adjusting to his new job etc etc i haven't thought the details that much) and anyway, buck one day stays the night to help decorate for chris' birthday and things happen.

are you?? sabotaging?? my dates?!?!? buddie fic

instead of dividing up the CD’s, let’s play a drinking game to determine who gets what (it may or may not end in sex) exes to lovers au

the walls in this apartment building are really thin and I can hear you having mental breakdowns all the time are you okay? neighbors AU

and i think those are the most recent, most tempting ideas!

tagging (no pressure bc it's late and i have no idea who's done this already or not): @rogerzsteven @prettyboybuckley @buddiefication @monsterrae1 @buddierights @cowboy-buck @lesbianmaygrant @maygrantgf @bigfootsmom @lovebuck @loveyourownsmiilee @swiftiebuckleys @comaboybuck @messyhairdiaz @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem and whoever else wants to do it

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel Fic Recs

Time for another installment of River reads too much! Get your freshly minted fic recs.

Camp chitaqua by teen_dean @urne-buriall (Teen, 38k)

This fic is pure cuteness and joy, with some soft pining. Dean is ramping up for another year of summer camp. A mixture of training and fun for hunter kids, Dean pours himself into supporting kids going through traumas like the ones he survived. But the introduction of a mysterious and seriously hot new counselor (and his adorable son) throws Dean a curveball. 

This one has some great "Dean with kids" vibes and some great Dadstiel. It had me smiling and outright laughing at times. Plus we love a messy disaster Dean in this house. 

Bitch Better Have my Money (Series), by duckyboos @duckyboos-blog (5 works, Explicit, 254k words, another installment may be coming) 

Okay I am late to the party on these, so a lot if people have gotten to meet the mobster murder husbands, but I have to recommend this series anyway (with the caveat to mind the tags because things do get gory). 

Dean and Cas are such reluctantly horny for each other disasters in this fic and I basically devoured the entire thing in an embarrassingly bloodthirsty manner. The fic is loosely a Bad Girls AU where Dean, Sam and Charlie accidentally steal from Cas (a seriously bad crime boss), but neither seems to be able to resist the pull of the other. Dean finds himself being pulled into Cas' world and what he finds there opens up entirely new possibilities.

Take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden @dothwrites (Explicit, 95k)

If you want a soft, healing fic that will in turn destroy you and leave you with a soft peace, this is the fic for you. 

Dean has retired and is restoring an old house, hoping that someday it will be a home. Cas is newly human and on the road, trying to prove to himself he's worthy. Sam and Jack are off on a road trip. In other words, things are fractured. But with quiet determination, maybe they can restore more than the house. 

Oh this one hurts so good. I, unfortunately, downloaded it for a plane and had to pretend to be normal in public while Doth broke me apart and put me back together. But the story is so good and the landing is smooth. 

Lazy ass rising by Fellshish @fellshish (Teen, 7.5 k)

Fells continues to perfect the art of making you laugh your ass off only to slip in a line so devastating and vulnerable, you feel your entire chest crack. 

Cas is back. Kind of. He needs a vessel to shack up in while Jack rebuilds his and Dean is willing to oblige. More than willing. Maybe a little too willing but there's no time to unpack that. 

Little does Dean know that Cas has nefarious plans to pamper Dean and feed him vegetables and make him nap. The horror!

It's about the time and space to be and the caretaker finally learning to accept tenderness and care himself. It's soft and sweet and hilarious all at once.

The Angel of Emetgis V by KaylieMalinza @kayliemalinza (T, 28k)

It's so many of my favorite things. Angel lore, science fiction, trueform!Cas and smart and competent Dean. This fic is so incredibly entertaining and the worldbuilding is amazing. 

After making a deal to save his brother, Dean is stationed on the Emetgis V, a broken down space station and vestige of a great migration of humans from the failing Earth. Years ago, it's said angels appeared and saved humanity by powering ships that took them to safety. But that's the thing of myth and legend. That is until Dean is doing routine maintenance outside the ship and he fines a glowing sentient orb of light.

PS, yes I did a list of trueform fics and neglected to mention this one yesterday. Nonny, come read this one!

More Than Kisses by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (Explicit, 29k)

I'm admittedly a sucker for an epistolary romance, and this one hits just right. In an attempt to avoid repeating 11th grade, Dean agrees to join a pen pal extracurricular program. Things get off to a rocky start, but Dean and his pen pal, Cas, soon find themselves confiding in one another. Over the years, they become a constant in each other’s lives. But the status quo is threatened when Cas gets a new opportunity.

This fic is all about the emotional intimacy. Dean and Cas are both so lonely at times and the way they connect in letters is beautiful to watch. There’s a vulnerability but also a safety to writing letters and FriendofCarlotta really digs into that. There's something soft about this fic that makes it a comfort read.

Huckleberry by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) @valleydean (General Audiences, 14k words(

You know how sometimes you read something that is so clearly a love letter to the subject matter that you kinda just want to bask in it? Yeah, that's this fic. Resident fandom cowboy enthusiast ValleyDean explores what would happen if Dean and Cas were sent to Tombstone and Cas had to use Doc Holliday as a vessel.

There are layers of pining as Dean and Cas compete with Doc and Wyatt for biggest dumbasses (affectionate). It's funny, entertaining and surprisingly poignant with some lines that will make you want to stare at the ceiling when you should be sleeping. 

You're My Dream Come True by Redamber79 (Explicit, 29k)

If you are looking for some fluffy, filthy smut with a side if heart melting friends to lovers sweetness, this is the fic for you. Dean and Cas are roommates and have been dancing around their mutual attraction for years because they are both idiots (affectionate). But when Cas shares a silly meme, he accidentally catapults them into new territory.

This one is very smutty so mind the tags, but it's their established feelings that set it apart. This Dean and Cas are just so far gone for each other and cocooned it the sweetest (yet dirtiest) little bubble. It's a true delight. 

Research Methods by TatteredBurningWings (angelshotgun) (Explicit, 8k words)

A smutty and hilarious romp in which Dean comes up with increasingly ridiculous reasons to hook up with Cas. This one is a whole lot of fun, particularly as Dean’s excuses for totally platonic bro sex with his bro Cas get more outlandish.

Basically, if you love a good the rituals are intricate fic, this is definitely what you are looking for.

___tag list___

@varlysca @naturallyathief @greatbigbugger @fandoms-and-things @cascodedtech @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @deanwasalwaysbi

[myeagleexpert]

/ / 𝓓𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝔂𝓹𝓮 / /

Author's comment: Hello everyone! I was thinking about changing the "humans are weak and idiots" script because frankly biologically the story is quite different and I don't think we value our strengths either. How could a student without magic from a completely unknown world survive this school? With so many challenges and trials, bullies and arrogant kids everywhere? Human beings are quick to adapt to dangerous situations. A new teacher has something to say.

Content: Funny (kinda), a series of “misunderstandings”, Yuu's self-esteem boost without knowing it, inspired by human are space orcs and humans are weird.

Characters:  Professor Raoni Wamuro, Classroom students, Yuu,  feat Leona, Sebek, Ace, Deuce, Riddle Roseharts 

Notes: My first Twisted Wonderland fic, hope you like it.Yuu's gender is neutral but may have some female biases, sorry.

Want to know what happens next?

 The infamous NCR was open to a new teacher, they just couldn't imagine how much some things would change from there. The experienced Professor Raoni Wamuro entered the classroom determined to teach those troublemakers something they should never forget: the danger from humans. Something that with expertise he could confirm, being an anthropologist. Wamuro was an old man in his late 70s, or late 80s, or late 90s. He never revealed his age, but his white hair reveals his experience behind battle scars and words so serious and wise.

The students did not understand why they were having this content, some more skeptical made fun of their teacher. Wamuro would be the new teacher of teenagers full of passions and hormones, he has to capture their attention quickly because the subject is about to get more and more serious. Raoni was weaving his speech carefully, choosing the right words to get where he wanted. He started the class with an old picture that illustrated his book. A dangerous species of marine being and a human by its side. The caption of the image read: “A year, 12 people are killed by sharks. 12000 sharks are killed per hour by humans.” He remembered having this class in college, took a deep breath and started an introduction about who it is, what the subject is and its importance, however the students thought the class was too slow.

- I still don't understand why we're taking this class? Professor, we've seen humans before, they are not dangerous much less threatening!- a beastman mob interrupted Professor Wamuro

-It's a waste of time to study about them! They have no claws or fangs! How will they hunt prey?- His friend agreed with him

-They don't need claws or fangs to kill you young. They just need to outlast you. And believe me, they will. They can chase their prey for days and nights without sleeping, eating and non-stop until they manage to kill it. A good example of why their body doesn't have as much fur as beastmans, they need to balance heat so they don't overheat.- Raoni answered him and taking his silence as an answer, continued.

-Don't be naive. Don't underestimate them. Humans don't appear to be a walking danger, but they are like a ticking time bomb. Nature took pity on us and didn't grant them any magic, because it wasn't necessary. If they had, they would have destroyed everything by now. Their ambiguous and ambitious nature takes them much further.- Taking advantage of the students' doubtful silence, he continued his explanation giving more details. He couldn't help that the mood weighed when he remembered the situations he had witnessed in his years of war. How many times had he underestimated humans and been surprised by new attacks and deaths?

Raoni Wamuro was from an ancient race that battled an ancient race of humans for a long time. Humans evolved fast while their race remained the same. After retiring from the military, he decided to explore areas of knowledge still so little talked about and diversify his skills. He went from general to scientist and never stopped, his scientific research and archaeological findings are always in the most renowned and respected books and magazines in the world of Twisted Wonderland.

-Lethal machines I mean, a frighteningly complex body and minds so complicated that I consider them a labyrinth where many get lost.

-They don't stop until they reach their goals. Humans have incredible resistance, even to shocks, the ability to quickly recover from injuries and injuries, to adapt easily to any environment and stay on top of it.- he shouted loudly.

-Professor, this is..a little different from what I expected…- a fairy admitted, he didn't know about all this scientific content that surrounded human beings.

-You and your little friend can die from an infection and a simple wound, but humans…they can rip off their own limbs and survive for years. - Professor Waduro looked at him seriously, feeling a shiver run down his spine and his students too.

-They are unstoppable!

Some students couldn't help but remember all the times when Yuu, the underrated magicless prefect out of the world, threw himself to face all those overblots and others remembered how he managed to handle so many tasks that the oh  gracious Crowley put on his back.

-They have evolved a digestive system that allows them to eat poison mushrooms and ingest poisonous plants for sheer satisfaction.

"-Yuu, where are you taking this plant?" asked a beastman giraffe, he and Yuu were cleaning the Botanical Garden when he saw that the little one gathered some suspicious plants.

-It looks like a commonly used spice where I come from.- The giraffe was even more confused, in his homeland people felt very sick just by smelling this plant, some even stopped at the hospital. Why would you use it in your food?”

-They destroyed all their natural predators, staying at the top of the food chain.- A memory flashed through a coyote's head, its ears inadvertently picking up an interesting conversation.

“ - Herbivore, you have to learn your damn place. - The savanaclaw's dormleader groan at Yuu. Leona had just avoided a fight that Yuu was "involved in". A misunderstanding, Yuu said. It was challenging me, said the predator type.

-Shishishi Yuu, if it weren't for us you'd be in trouble.

-Oh, are they predators? Sorry, it's just that where I come from they don't exist anymore.- They answered honestly and without thinking too much, after all they never had to run from animals to survive. Just the chickens on their grandfather's farm that soon turned into soup. But that could not be explained in time.”

-A curious fact is that they manage to create a group of different animals and people, creating a strong bond with absolutely anything.- Professor Wamuro continued listing some curiosities about the species. A flashback flashed through the minds of many students already troubled by the similarities.

“The students were open-mouthed about the situation. A terrible chimera escaped from its cage and was terrorizing the corridors of NRC, all those who tried to dominate it or cast a spell to calm it were unsuccessful attempts. The terrifying chimera was now… lying on the ground on its back, soaking up all the affection and care that Yuu gave it, the beast purred so loudly that the ground shook, but that only made Yuu smile along with the animal they dubbed Amy .

-I've already prepared the new cage for the chimera, bring it here. - Riddle caught the attention of the prefect, who got up and called the beast

-Come on Amy! Your cage is right here my cute kitty!- Amy grumbled when her affection was cut off, but soon she started walking beside Yuu to the cage. After giving some treats to his “kitten” the prefect thanked Rosehearts with a quick hug that was soon returned. When did the crimson tyrant become so friendly?? The last one got so close to him it was off your head.”

-Humans are famous for analyzing their opponent and designing their traps. So they create many mental and physical traps to numb their victim and have fun with their mental confusion.

“She sells seashells by the seashore.”

-She shell she… ARG! Why do we even have to do this? What a useless game!- Sebek complained loudly, he had been trying the tongue-twister that the prefect brought from his world for minutes and still no results.

-Come on Sebek! It's a fun game, just to pass the time. - Yuu motivated him

-Lilia-sama would find a human game utterly useless. It's none of my business!

-First of all, I'm asking you and not Lillia-senpai. Second I just played with him this tongue twister

-Tongue twister? Is this the method of my torture?

-Sebek is just a game for distraction, try again! And ah–! Lillia, do you want to try again?-Lillia appeared in midair scaring Sebek, Yuu was already waiting for him to appear, the older one made it very clear that he didn't want to give up. Lilia tries a few times and gives up a little later.

-She sell sheas…!Se shells sheas…!- they burst out laughing as Lilia whispered a “just like old times!”

The green haired fae looked confused and his laughter died when he realized this: They are making fun of him! YES! They are playing tricks so they cant solve and GOD THEY JUST TRICKED MASTER LILLIA? AND IT WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME? What audacity of this human without magic, playing dirty with a guardian as exceptional as Lillia Vanrougue!

-Why don't you try this tongue twister with Malleus? I bet he'll like it! - the magenta haired one suggested happily however Sebek increased his alertness even more.

HE'S GOING TO FOOL THE YOUNG MASTER IN A SILLY JOKE! AND LILLIA SAMA WANTS HIM TO PARTICIPATE TOO? WHAT KIND OF MENTAL CONTROL TRAP IS THE HUMAN SETTING??” - Sebek was present in the class, the new information only served to raise more suspicions about the frien--human. Human being. Silly human.

-Professor Wamuro, where do these dangerous humans come from?- A pufferfish merman asked hesitantly, his hand shaking as he stood up. There were other humans in the school and they were nothing like these monsters, so it only makes sense that they are ancient beings or a place very far from there right? Right??

-Ohh they come from.. ah I remembered. From a deadly blue planet of unknown location. The ancients called “Earth” something like… oh exactly like that! - scratching his long beard Raoni walked across the room spotting an area with posters.

Professor Raoni saw a poster with a space system with a large star in the middle called Sun and 8 planets orbiting around it, the third of them being a blue rocky sphere, with well-delimited lands and white clouds. He just didn't imagine that some magicless prefect from another world made the drawing in astronomy class tracing an arrow pointing to the planet. “HOME EARTH” was written, his friends suggested that he write that detail so that the students would know a little more about his homeland. The component names had a heart and a sword, plus a “Grim” with a paw. 

The students absorbed the information given by the new teacher, and with a pale face they exchanged glances with each other listening to the whispers that Wamuro emitted, thinking aloud about the next subjects for the classes taking turns between some rather strange theories. The train of thought was cut short just before the bell rang with a soft knock on the door and a voice that said:

-Excuse me Professor Raoni Wamuro, I'm Yuu. The director asked me to give you these papers.- Yuu said as they opened the door.

The bell rang and while the prefect waited for a bunch of teenagers running wild for their precious break, they found a room hesitant to get up from their chair avoiding the gaze and a confused teacher….

[plague-of-insomnia]

WIP Wednesday: Synchronize, Ch 4

Hey, all! I am so close to finishing the next chapter, and wanted to share another little snippet with you. I absolutely am in love with Tanaka & Seb in this fic, and I hope you’ll enjoy this tender scene between them as much as I have.

“Jiji. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” Tanaka asked without looking up, focused on Sebastian’s lower leg now.

“For . . . this. For ruining your retirement.”

That made Tanaka stop. He set down Sebastian’s leg, placing a pillow under his knee to support it. Then he draped the blanket over it so Sebastian wouldn’t be cold, before perching on the edge of the mattress. He took Sebastian’s hand in his, smoothing his fingers over the polish as he smiled warmly.

“You may not be my blood, but you are my child in every sense of the word, and if I could lay my life down here to restore your health, I would do it without a second of hesitation.”

Sebastian felt his breath catch. He could see Tanaka was dead serious. He meant every single word.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Sebastian’s gaze drifted to the glass doors. With the darkness out and light within, he could just barely make out their reflections. His, chained to the bed, and Tanaka, looking so small and frail.

Tanaka leaned forward, cradling Sebastian’s head as he planted a kiss on his crown. “That’s just what happens when you become a father. Maybe someday, you’ll understand.” His smile was affectionate as he leaned back, tucking some stray hairs behind Sebastian’s ear. “I don’t have any regrets. Not about being with Vincent, as short as our time together was, nor about raising you and your brother. And certainly not taking care of you when you’ve needed me.”

Sebastian reached for Tanaka’s hand again. “I—I am going to get better. Right, Jiji? Maybe not like I was before, but—”

“You will. You have.”

Sebastian scoffed.

“You may not realize it, but I could feel resistance when I was doing the stretches today. And it wasn’t just from stiffness. And it wasn’t spasms. It was you. And I also noticed you were slightly stronger when Dr. Albrecht was examining you. I think this new treatment is working. Slowly, but surely.”

Sebastian felt his eyes mist and blinked rapidly to try and clear his vision. “Agni has reminded me of everything I’ve lost. It hurts so much. But it also makes me want—”

“Want what?”

“All the things I had before. Things I thought I couldn’t ever have again. He—he makes me hope, Jiji.”

Tanaka cradled Sebastian’s face, rubbing his thumb affectionately over his five o’clock shadow. He would need a shave tomorrow. Maybe he’d ask Agni to do it. “That’s a good thing.”

“I’m scared, though. What if—what if I hope for something I can’t have? What if I put all of my eggs into this basket, and then I find out they’re all cracked and rotten and I was never—”

Tanaka pulled Sebastian’s hands from his face, holding both firmly in his. “Listen to me. Hope is never wasted. If this treatment doesn’t work, we will find something else. OK? You’re strong, and I love you, and I am not going anywhere. That’s my choice, no matter what your brother may have said.” Of course Tanaka would realize the source of many of Sebastian’s doubts. “You remind me every day of Vincent, and the love I have for him that will always be with me. We will get through this. Together.”

Tanaka stretched and snagged the box of tissues from the nearby table and offered them to Sebastian, whose eyes had leaked of their own damn accord after all.

Reblogs always appreciated! :)

-> Read Synchronize on AO3 <-

Fic Summary: Agni, a home-care nurse, has had his share of difficult patients, but now he's up for his biggest challenge yet. Sebastian is young, seriously ill, and angry, but Agni is determined to help him anyway. Will the two be able to synchronize and move forward, or will Sebastian forever let his bitterness over his past trauma hold him back?

[romanstheory]

One shot kinda fic?

Roman comes home to u and the kids in the gym. Reader is in the ring practicing Roman's oldest daughter. Proud tribal chief moment

Word count: 433

18 +

Roman and I have been together for longer than either of us can remember at this point. We’ve seen each other in all kinds of different life stages, the god, the bad, and the ugly. We have an amazing 10 year old daughter together than is determined to be the next leader of the bloodline…… The head of the table if you will. Roman has an interview coming up to hype the upcoming event. We have breakfast as a family, Roman plants a soft kiss on our daughters forehead before kissing me softly and passionately.

“Do you think we can practice while daddy is gone?” My daughter asks me wide eyed with a grin that seemed to spread from ear to ear. I used to be a WWE superstar, but retired to start a family with Roman. The itch to go back never goes away, so of course I was excited when she asked me. “Of course baby!” I say smiling back at her. Roman had a ring built in the basement so that he and his cousins could practice in it to avoid any ring rust. We change out of our pajamas and into work out clothes. The two of us get into the ring, my adrenaline is pumping. I’ve avoided this ring since retiring from WWE. “Okay show me what you know from watching on tv and we’ll go from there” I say to my daughter.

She shoots me a grin and takes off running into the ropes, shooting off and flying into me like she had been doing it forever. We continue to practice, I’m teaching her all of the basics. “It’s time to end it!” She screeches as she makes her way to the corner. I’m selling her last move, slowly making my way to my feet again. She slams her fist into the mat and does her dad’s infamous yell, before sprinting at me wrapping me in a gnarly spear. She crawls on top of me, raising my leg and yells a successful 3 count. Just as she counts to three, we hear clapping and cheering from across the room.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about baby girl!” Roman says as he makes his way to ringside. “You really think so?” Our daughter says grinning again like she had earlier. “Oh yeah, looks like we got a Tribal Chieftess in the making” Roman smirks. He gets into the ring with us and we practice some more, I can tell he’s proud of how well she’s doing already. He may be even more happy to continue n the bloodline.

[hils79]

Monday Fic Recs

Hei Xiazi/Xie Yuchen (DMBJ)

Everything For You by thedarksidecupcake

After Xie Yuchen disappears while on an expedition, Hei Xiazi is led to another abandoned ruin just like so many before. There the only trace left of Xie Yuchen's team, is a bloody jacket spelling out a single word:

Death.

Still going in, he is ready to follow in the steps of those before, determined to leave these ruins with one man more than entered.

Though whether Xie Yuchen has reached death or a fate worse than that, Hei Xiazi is about to find out.

This was so great. A fantastic and interesting tomb, mystery, the two idiots each trying to sacrifice themselves to save the other. Excellent stuff.

Thigmotropism by aequoria

He may be a climbing plant, meant to reach for the sky and choke every living thing in his path, but he does not know his destination save for up. He thinks, now, that perhaps he is also meant for this: curling his tendrils towards the pull of gravity, shaping himself into a gentle arch above Hei Xiazi’s precious head to protect him from the rain. He will catch and digest the insects that bother this man of his, so nothing can touch him save for the earth and the air and the soft brush of leaves.

If you love something well enough, it will always be returned, even if it’s in a form you don’t expect.

This is an absolutely unique and wonderfully written fic. So creative and yet so perfectly in character

Gen (DMBJ)

called your name til the fever broke by ravenditefairylights

“Xiaoge isn’t back yet,” Tianzhen says, and Pangzi can tell he’s frowning without looking at him.

“He’s not?” Pangzi says. “That’s weird, usually he’s—” The sound of the front door opening echoes across the house. “ —back just in time for lunch,” Pangzi finishes, a little unnecessarily. Tianzhen is already moving towards the sound.

“Xiaoge!” Pangzi hears him say, audibly pleased. “You’re back! Where did you—Xiaoge! You’re soaking wet! What happened? And—oh my god, are you bleeding?”

A lovely bit of hurt comfort that was like wrapping up in a cosy blanket

Wu Xie and Pangzi's Bed and Breakfast for Tired Tomb Robbers by daydreamorama

In an Alternative Timeline, Pangzi and Wu Xie didn't meet anyone else on their adventures and they retired early and moved to Rain Village, setting up a bed and breakfast and retreat, and quickly became known in the tomb-robbing world as a place to go if you needed to recover or rest.

After a debilitating accident, that was exactly what Liu Sang needed.

This was so sweet and sad and soft and lovely

A Long Way From Home by alxina and xantissa

All Pangzi wanted to do was sell some information to a broker for a nice sum of money. Or it was what Wu Xie wanted and Pangzi was doing it for him, as usual. He even agreed to go all the way to Siberia for the exchange. It was cold and remote and of course the deal went to shit the moment he arrived, landing him in a tiny cell and beaten black and blue. He wasn't worried. He knew rescue was coming.

When it arrived, it definitely wasn't what he expected.

I can't believe I hadn't read this before. One of my favourite series, featuring two of my favourite characters? Obviously I loved it.

Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling (DMBJ)

trade all my yesterdays (for just one more tomorrow) by onyxsphinx

A snapshot in the life of the Iron Triangle in retirement.

I never get tired to reading domestic retired Iron Triangle. This was lovely.

Wang Pangzi/Zhang Qiling (DMBJ)

Once you called I'll be fallin' to your warm embrace by bimingjue

Xiaoge comes to Pangzi's rescue once again. Pangzi mentions for the millionth time that he needs to start keeping Xiaoge on his belt. Xiaoge makes it happen.

Absolutely adorable