#this is kind of old but i still really like it

[pucksandpower]

Wagification

Max Verstappen x analyst!Reader

Summary: your job was slowly crushing your soul and stealing your sanity … until Max showed you the pleasure to be found in letting yourself be cherished and cared for (or in which a chronically overworked Sky Sports analyst becomes a WAG)

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the Monaco sunshine bright and warm on your face. Max comes around and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You ready for this?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. It’s been nearly a year since you were last at a Grand Prix, and so much has changed. You glance down at the massive diamond on your left hand, still not quite used to seeing it there.

Max kisses your temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

Hand-in-hand, you make your way into the paddock. Immediately you’re assaulted by the familiar sights and sounds — mechanics yelling, engines revving, reporters gesturing to their cameras. It’s like you never left.

You keep your sunglasses on and your head down, hoping to avoid notice. The last thing you want is to be bombarded by your old coworkers. As a data analyst for Sky Sports F1, you knew everyone in the paddock. But you walked away from it all for Max and you aren’t sure what kind of reception awaits you now.

“Max! Max Verstappen!” You hear a female voice call out. You suppress a groan as you recognize it as belonging to Emma, one of the network’s top reporters. She hurries over, dictaphone in hand. “Max, can I get a quick interview for the pre-race show?”

“Sure,” Max says easily. He keeps holding your hand, drawing you forward. “Just make it quick, yeah?”

Emma nods, then seems to notice you for the first time. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m Emma Walsh, with Sky Sports.” She sticks her hand out with a friendly smile.

You hesitate a second before shaking her hand. “Y/N,” you say simply, not offering your last name.

Emma’s eyes widen behind her glasses and she leans in for a closer look. “Wait a minute, I know you ...” Her jaw drops open. “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

You give a little shrug. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” Emma practically shouts. “I can’t believe it! We all thought you fell off the face of the earth after you left Sky. What happened to you?”

Max slides an arm around your waist. “She fell for me,” he says with a grin.

Emma’s eyes bug out even more as she takes in your designer dress, heels, and rock on your finger. “You mean … you and Max ...”

You nod, feeling yourself blush. “About a year ago, yeah.”

“Wow.” Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “Just … wow. I mean, look at you! You look incredible!”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. Your style has certainly changed since your Sky Sports days of sensible pantsuits. As an analyst, you had lived in jeans, flats, and minimal makeup, your hair always pulled back in a simple ponytail. Now your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders, and you’re wearing a floaty floral maxi dress and strappy heels. You went from broadcasting racing stats to being a WAG almost overnight.

“Thanks,” you say, your cheeks growing even warmer. “It’s really good to see you, Emma.”

“You too!” She grins. “I have so many questions, but I better let you go for now. Don’t want to keep the championship leader waiting.” She winks at Max. “We’ll catch up later, yeah? Drinks tonight to celebrate your return?”

“Sure, sounds good.” You smile, thankful she’s not pressing for more details now. Emma waves and heads off in search of her next interview.

Max keeps his arm around you as you continue through the paddock. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs.

You let out a shaky laugh. “One down, about a hundred more to go.”

Over the next hour you run into what feels like every person you used to work with. They all react with similar shock at the former paddock nerd turned glamorous girlfriend of the reigning four-time World Champion.

You chat briefly with Will, who stutters over his words and goes bright red when you say hello. He had the biggest crush on you back when you worked together. Sarah can’t stop gushing over your ring. Tom tells you how weird it is not to see you hunched over a laptop crunching numbers.

The encounters leave you feeling drained, but also relieved. Your old coworkers seem genuinely happy for you, not resentful like you had worried. They don’t pry too much into how exactly you went from reporting race stats to ending up with Max Verstappen. That’s a story for another time.

Eventually you make it to the Red Bull garage, where you let out a long breath. “Phew, I survived.”

Max grins and pulls you close. “You were amazing. And you look beautiful, as always.” He nuzzles your neck.

You smile and loop your arms around his shoulders. “Have I mentioned how happy I am whenever I’m with you?”

“Mmm, maybe once or twice.” Max kisses you softly. “But feel free to keep reminding me.”

“Ahem.” Christian Horner clears his throat from behind you. “If you two can pause the PDA for a moment, we have a race to focus on.”

You spring apart, blushing furiously at being caught by Max’s team principal. Max just laughs and slings an arm around your shoulders.

“Lighten up, Christian. I’m allowed to kiss my fiancée.”

Christian shakes his head, but he’s fighting a smile. “Indeed you are. But perhaps when there aren’t cameras around?” He nods over your shoulder.

You turn to see several photographers zooming in, no doubt dying to get shots of the paddock’s newest it couple. You bury your face in Max’s shoulder.

“Ugh, no privacy anywhere,” you grumble.

Max kisses your hair. “It’s not so bad. Just part of the deal when you’re with me, remember?”

You smile up at him. “Very true. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The day passes in a blur of activity. Max has various sponsor obligations and media commitments. You stick close by his side, learning how to avoid the cameras and deflect the constant questions about your relationship. Being the center of attention still feels strange, but you’re getting better at handling it.

During Max’s autograph session, you chat with some of the other drivers’ girlfriends and wives. They give you tips on dealing with the madness. You’re touched by how kind and welcoming they are.

“It takes some getting used to,” Alex Albon’s girlfriend, Lily, says. “But once you figure out how to focus on what really matters, the rest just becomes background noise.”

You nod. Your priority is Max. Everything else is just part of the ride.

***

One Year Ago

You sink down onto a stack of tires behind the Red Bull motorhome, finally letting the tears fall. This weekend in Barcelona has been a nightmare so far. Your team at Sky Sports is chronically understaffed, so you’ve been working 18 hour days analyzing data and prepping stats graphics.

You’re exhausted, frustrated, and seriously questioning your career choices.

On top of that, you just found out that your coworker and boyfriend Jamie has been cheating on you for months with one of the new junior reporters. You feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

You just need a few minutes to yourself to cry it out before plastering a smile back on and soldiering through the rest of the weekend. You hear footsteps approaching and quickly dab at your eyes with your sleeve, but it’s too late.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ...” The voice trails off awkwardly.

You glance up to see none other than Max Verstappen standing there, a look of concern on his face. Great. The last thing you need is Formula 1’s wunderkind catching you bawling behind the motorhome.

You scramble to your feet, trying to compose yourself. “Um, hi. No worries, I was just ...” You trail off, at a loss for how to explain.

Max steps closer, head tilted. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His kindness makes the tears threaten again. You stare down at your scuffed sneakers, embarrassed.

“I’m fine, really. Just had a bad day. You know how it goes.” You force a weak laugh.

Max doesn’t seem convinced. “Here, come sit for a minute,” he says gently, guiding you back over to the stack of tires.

To your surprise, he sits down next to you in his designer jeans and Red Bull Racing hoodie like it’s no big deal. You would laugh if you weren’t still fighting more tears.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He smiles and holds out his hand.

You shake it weakly. “Yeah, I know. I mean, uh, I’m Y/N.” You blush. Smooth.

Max either doesn’t notice or is too polite to comment. “So Y/N, what has you so upset? Boyfriend troubles?” He raises an eyebrow knowingly.

You let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. The idiot’s been cheating on me it turns out.” Saying it out loud makes the hurt swell back up.

Max shakes his head angrily. “What a dick. I don’t understand guys who treat girls like that. You deserve so much better, Y/N.”

The genuine outrage on your behalf makes you smile a bit through the tears. “Thanks, Max. I appreciate that.”

He nods. “Any guy would be lucky to have a girl as pretty and smart as you. This loser doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Now you really can’t help blushing. You’re used to being called a lot of things — nerdy, awkward, obsessive about stats — but no one’s ever called you pretty before. Especially not a kind, cute, and famous race car driver.

You dip your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously. “You’re very sweet to say that.”

Max bumps your shoulder with his. “Just calling it like I see it.”

You chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. Max is easy to talk to, and makes you laugh with funny stories about mishaps in the garage. By the time you hear your boss calling your name, you’ve almost forgotten about Jamie and your tear-stained face.

“Shit, I have to get back to work,” you say, standing quickly and grabbing your laptop bag. “Thanks for listening, Max. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Max stands too, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems reluctant to end the conversation. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around again this weekend?”

You give him a curious look, wondering why he’d want to see you again after witnessing that mess of emotions. But he looks sincere. “Yeah, maybe! I’m around if you need any stats analysis or data work.” You tap your temple. “Numbers nerd, at your service.”

Max grins. “Good to know. Take care, Y/N.” With a little wave, he heads off, leaving you staring after him in surprise.

The rest of the day you keep replaying those moments with Max in your head, unable to focus. Why did he seem so interested in a frumpy data analyst having a meltdown? You can’t make sense of it.

By the time qualifying ends on Saturday, you’re practically dead on your feet. Your eyelids keep drooping as you pack up your equipment. Maybe you’ll just sleep under your desk tonight instead of walking all the way to the hotel.

“Long day, huh?”

You jerk awake to see Max leaning in the doorway of your makeshift office, thumbs hooked in his pockets. He looks annoyingly energetic and put together compared to your disheveled state.

“Uh, yeah.” You smooth your hair back,feeling self-conscious. Why does he have to catch you looking like such a mess yet again? “Just have about a million graphics to finish before tomorrow’s broadcast. The glamorous life of a data analyst,” you say wryly.

Max frowns. “They keep you here this late doing all the work yourself?”

You sigh, rubbing your grainy eyes beneath your glasses. “Unfortunately yes. We’re way understaffed, but it’s not like they’ll give us more budget to hire help.”

Max shakes his head. “That’s unacceptable. You deserve so much better than this.”

The kindness in his voice makes you suddenly emotional again. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to tear up at work twice in one day.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll be okay though, once I get some sleep ...” You know you don’t sound convincing.

Max appears to think for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You know what, enough of this. Come on.”

Before you can react, he takes your hand and gently tugs you to your feet.

“W-what? Where are we going?” You stammer, heartbeat quickening.

“We’re getting out of here. You’re clearly exhausted and need a break.” Max keeps hold of your hand as he leads you from the office.

“But-but my work … I have to finish-” Even as you protest, you let him continue pulling you along. A rebellious part of you is thrilled at this sudden adventure.

“It can wait. Right now, we’re getting some food and drinks in you so you actually have energy left for tomorrow.” Max winks at you as you exit the paddock into the cool night air. “Trust me.”

And despite barely knowing this man, you realize you do trust him. Max guides you around the corner to a lively tapas bar, chatting all the while about random topics to make you laugh. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you.

Over shared plates of patatas bravas and fizzy cocktails, you find yourself opening up to Max in a way you never do with people you just met. But his kindness and openness make you feel comfortable. He tells you more about life as an F1 driver, the pressures and perks.

“It must be amazing getting to travel all over the world racing cars,” you muse after your second cocktail. “Like a dream.”

“Part of it is, yeah.” Max smiles wryly. “But it can also be lonely. Never really putting down roots anywhere. Hard to meet people outside the racing bubble, you know?”

You nod thoughtfully. Under the playboy racer exterior, it seems there’s a down-to-earth guy who just wants connection. On impulse, you cover his hand with yours and give it a squeeze.

“Well, you’ve got a friend here now if you ever need company at a race.”

Max turns his palm over to link his fingers through yours. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His smile is so warm and genuine, you feel your cheeks heat.

By the time you stumble back to your hotel, you’re laughing and chatting with Max like old friends. When you get to your door though, you blink blearily and sway on your feet — the long day and alcohol hitting you hard.

Max steadies you with a hand on your waist. “Whoa there. You gonna make it okay?”

You wave a hand drunkenly. “Oh yeah, totally fiiiine ...” Your balance wavers again. Okay, maybe not so fine.

Max bites his lip, seeming to have an internal debate. “Alright, slight change of plans. You’re in no state to be left alone right now.”

In one smooth motion he scoops you up bridal-style. You make a very dignified squeaking noise and clutch his shoulders.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe for the night.” He grins down at you. “You can stay in my suite where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But … people will think ...” Even tipsy, you know spending the night in Max Verstappen’s hotel room is probably a bad idea.

“Let them think whatever. I’m being a gentleman, I promise.” The sincerity in his eyes melts your feeble protests. You really are in no state to be left alone.

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “Okay fine, you win. But just for tonight!”

Max chuckles, carrying you towards the elevator. “Deal. We’ll get you sobered up and rested for tomorrow.”

You have vague impressions of a plush suite, being tucked into cool satin sheets and handed water and pills for your headache. Max brushes hair off your face with a lingering touch. “Get some sleep, Y/N. I’m right next door if you need me.”

His kindness brings tears to your eyes again, but happy ones this time. As you drift off surrounded by his scent, you think dazedly that maybe this race weekend hasn’t been so terrible after all.

In the morning, waking up in Max Verstappen’s hotel bed, you at first think it was all some crazy dream. Then the smell of brewing coffee draws you out to the living room, where Max stands in the kitchenette.

“Morning! I ordered us some breakfast.” He hands you a mug, smiling softly.

Daylight streaming through the windows makes last night’s events seem even more surreal. You feel suddenly shy as memories return. A part of you wishes you could stay here in this peaceful bubble with him forever, away from the outside world.

But reality calls, as you both have jobs to return to. Max convinces you to eat some food and take more pain meds before he walks you back to your own room to shower and change.

At your door he pulls you into a gentle hug. “Take care of yourself today, okay Y/N? And if you need another break or company again, you know where to find me.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead that sends tingles through your entire body.

Somehow you make it through the day fueled by Max’s kindness and the smallest hope this could lead to more. You catch sight of him striding through the paddock, fans clamoring for his attention. His eyes always seem to find you though, lighting up with that warm smile.

After the race, you’re back in your makeshift office trying not to fall asleep at your desk before the last minutes of broadcasts. When you walk outside into the golden hour sunset though, Max is waiting for you.

“So, ready for round two at the tapas place to celebrate my win?” He bumps your shoulder playfully.

You grin up at him, this beautiful boy who inexplicably wants to spend all his free moments with you. “Definitely. Bring on the croquetas.”

Laughing together, you start making your way there. And though you don’t know what this budding connection will lead to, you’re ready to find out.

***

Nine Months Ago

You snuggle deeper into Max’s arms with a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest. The lights are dim and music plays softly in the background of his hotel suite. Rain patters against the windows, making it the perfect night to get cozy indoors.

Being wrapped up with Max like this, away from the chaos of the race weekend, has become your favorite place to be over the past few months. After that impulsive first night in Barcelona when he took care of you, you started spending more and more time together.

What began as a supportive friendship soon turned into dates, kisses, and eventually becoming official boyfriend and girlfriend. You still can’t believe that Max Verstappen, Formula 1 superstar, wants to be with a plain data analyst like yourself. But from the way he looks at you — like you’re the most captivating person in the world — you don’t doubt his sincerity.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Max murmurs, trailing his fingers slowly up and down your arm.

You smile and nuzzle his neck. “Mmm, I think you mentioned it once or twice.”

His hands drift up to stroke your hair and you practically purr, eyes drifting shut. Max kisses the top of your head. “I mean it though, Y/N. Being with you makes me so happy.”

You lift your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “You make me happy too, Max. I-” You cut off with an enormous yawn that you fail to stifle in time.

Max chuckles. “Am I boring you over here?”

“No no,” you insist around another yawn. “I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open tonight.”

It’s true. As blissful as you feel cuddled up with Max, you’re utterly exhausted. This weekend has been nonstop work with little sleep. By the time you wrapped the Sky broadcasts up for the night, you could barely see straight.

Max brushes a strand of hair back from your face, his expression growing serious. “You’re completely worn out, schatje. I hate seeing you push yourself to the breaking point like this.”

You give him a tired smile. “It’s okay, really. I’m used to the long hours by now. Occupational hazard.” It comes out less convincingly than you intended.

Max’s frown deepens. He shifts around to face you, cradling your cheek in his palm. “But you shouldn’t have to be used to it, Y/N. Your bosses take advantage of your dedication. It’s not right.”

You bite your lip, not meeting his earnest gaze. Deep down you know he’s correct, but you don’t know what else to do. This career has been your life for years now.

Max gently turns your face back to his. “You deserve so much better. You keep giving everything to this job and they just keep demanding more. When’s the last time you took a real break?”

You look down, feeling the prickle of tears. You can’t even remember your last vacation or rest day. “It’s okay, really ...” you whisper half-heartedly.

“No, it’s not.” Max’s voice is firm but caring. He tips your chin up to meet his eyes. “I can’t stand seeing you being taken advantage of. It makes me want to take care of you properly, the way you should be.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his gaze. Being taken care of and cherished so deeply is new for you. You don’t know how to respond.

Max seems to take your silence as uncertainty. “Just think about it, liefje. You could finally put yourself first and do what makes you happy instead of what makes Sky Sports happy.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Doesn’t a break to rest and recover sound nice?”

You close your eyes with a shaky exhale, admitting to yourself just how badly you need it. Your health and mental wellbeing have been steadily declining under the relentless stress.

“It really does sound nice,” you whisper. A few tears leak out beneath your lashes.

Max kisses them away tenderly, holding you close. “Shh I know, baby. You’re burning yourself out trying to do the impossible. Anyone would be exhausted.”

You cling to him, sniffling. “But it’s my job, my career. I can’t just walk away ...” Even as you say it, the prospect doesn’t seem as scary as it once did. Not if you get to have this, being wrapped in Max’s love and care.

“You can walk away from anything that’s making you suffer. You’re so much more than this job. And you’ll never have to worry or want for anything ever again.” His tone drips with promise.

You lean back to search his face. “What do you mean?”

Max smiles and brushes his nose against yours. “I mean, I’ll take care of you. If you leave your job to focus on yourself and our relationship, you will want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyes go wide. “You mean … quit working altogether and just … be with you full time?”

Max nods, still smiling. “It can be that simple if you want. No more crazy hours and stress. Just let me spoil you and give you the life you deserve. What do you say?”

Your pulse races as you imagine it. No more coming home at 2 am and collapsing, living off vending machine snacks. Instead you could be leisurely mornings with Max, seeing the world together, doing activities you actually enjoy instead of endless stats analysis ...

It sounds idyllic. But could you really just stop working and let Max support you? Would people judge you for it?

As if reading your mind, Max says “Ignore whatever anyone else might think. This is about what’s right for you and makes you happy. I’m sure of this, Y/N. Please trust me.”

His eyes radiate so much love and certainty. Slowly you nod, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “If you’re sure then … I trust you, Max.”

Joy spreads across his face. He kisses you deeply, pouring all his feelings into it. When he finally pulls back you’re both breathless.

“You won’t regret this, schatje. I’m going to take such good care of you from now on.” Max strokes your hair, eyes shining. “No more exhaustion and stress. Just being together and enjoying life. It will be amazing.”

You truly believe it as you drift off, safe in his arms. No more pressure to single-handedly carry Sky Sports’ data analysis. From now on, you can just be his … and find yourself again.

The next day you take a deep breath and knock on your boss’ door. Within minutes, you’ve quit your job and ended a years long chapter. It feels bittersweet but right as you box up your belongings from your little makeshift office. This time when tears prick your eyes, they’re from overwhelming relief.

Max is waiting to pick you up, greeting you with a spinning hug and long kiss. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so much happier and healthier from now on, I just know it.”

You hug him tight, burying your face in his neck. “I already feel lighter. This was the right choice.”

And it truly is. As you jet off to a tropical island just the two of you that weekend, it feels like a new life.

The days pass in a dreamy haze — sleeping in, long massages, breakfast in bed courtesy of Max, sunset walks on the beach holding hands. He delights in pampering you with gifts, gourmet meals, and your every whim met often before you even speak it.

“I could get used to this,” you sigh contentedly as you lounge together in a cabana, sipping fruity cocktails.

Max smiles and nuzzles your neck. “That’s the idea. You’ll never lift a finger except when you want to from now on.”

It amazes you how he transforms from fierce competitor on the track to this caring, protective boyfriend behind closed doors. He seems to find his greatest happiness in making sure you’re thoroughly spoiled.

You do occasionally think of the drastic shift your life has taken. But any flicker of doubt is erased by Max’s love and devotion. He’s given you freedom from exhaustion and anxiety. You’ve never felt more adored.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper one night as you sway together on the balcony under the stars, your silk robe fluttering around you.

Max gazes at you like you hold the secrets of the universe. “You just had to be yourself, schatje. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

He takes your breath away with slow, passionate kisses until you meltingly agree to take things inside. Your first time together is everything you imagined and more.

Afterwards, lying entwined with Max stroking your hair, you have never felt more whole. You found in each other what you needed most — care, understanding, and unwavering love.

This blissful new life together has only just begun.

***

A Few Hours Ago

You hum to yourself as you flip through the designer outfits in your massive walk-in closet, selecting options for the upcoming race. This will be your first time attending a Grand Prix on Max’s arm and you want to look perfect.

As you sift through rows of Chanel, Dior, Valentino, and Prada, you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Need any help choosing?” Max asks, nuzzling your neck.

You lean back into him with a smile. “I was just trying to narrow it down. I want to look nice for your big weekend.”

Max turns you in his arms, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “Schatje, you could show up in sweatpants and you’d still be the most beautiful woman there.”

You scrunch your nose. “But it’s Monaco! I need to look at least semi put-together.”

“It’s impossible for you to look anything but,” Max declares, stealing a quick kiss. “You always look perfect to me.”

You swat his chest but can’t help grinning. His constant compliments and admiration still give you flutters even after months together.

Taking your hand, Max comes to stand before the endless clothing options. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

You pull out two of your favorites: a sleek black Balmain jumpsuit with a deep neckline and waist cutouts, and a shimmering floral Givenchy maxi dress.

“Ooh, these are both amazing,” Max says, fingering the luxe fabrics. “That jumpsuit would show off your sexy legs, but this fabric is so pretty with your skin tone ...”

You chew your bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m torn too. What’s your vote?”

Max pretends to scrutinize them closely before breaking into a smile. “Well you know I love you in anything. Or nothing,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes and swat him with a hanger. “Behave! I need actual fashion advice please.”

“Okay okay.” Max puts on an exaggerated serious expression. “The Givenchy dress is very classy and princess-like. But I love the way this Balmain hugs your curves.” To demonstrate, he traces a hand along the waist and down your side.

You shiver pleasantly at his touch. “Mmm, good point ...”

Max leans in close behind you, hands resting on your hips. “Imagine me peeling it off of you after my win.” He presses a kiss below your ear.

You melt back into him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Well when you put it that way ...”

“The dress would be pretty easy access too though.” Max slides his hands under the fabric across your thighs teasingly.

You gasp and swat him away again, laughing. “Okay stop distracting me! I really do need to pick.”

Max relents with a grin, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, you win. I officially vote for the dress. It’s sexy yet elegant, just like you.”

You smile and give him a peck on the lips. “Now, what about bags and shoes?”

You move through your endless options as Max offers his input. He has a surprising eye for fashion despite his own relaxed, sporty style.

“This one matches the best.” He selects a sleek black crocodile Birkin. “Classy and understated.”

You turn the bag over in your hands. “Ooh I forgot I had this one. Good call!”

After picking strappy heels to complete the look, you start browsing your jewelry selection.

“That’s a lot of shiny stuff,” Max remarks, eyes roving over the boxes of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and more.

You arch an eyebrow. “Says the one who got carried away with the jewelry purchases ...”

Max just grins and pulls you close. “I want you to have it all. You deserve to be spoiled.” He captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum happily against his mouth before pulling back. “Will you help me pick something?”

“Hmm let’s see ...” Max peruses the options before selecting an elegant diamond necklace. “Yeah, this one is perfect. Really complements the dress.”

He fastens it carefully around your neck, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a smile. His gaze trails down your body as you model the full outfit together.

“You look absolutely incredible, liefje. Every man in Monaco will be drooling over you.”

You turn to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Well I only care about impressing one man.” You kiss the tip of his nose.

Max’s hands find your waist again, warm on your exposed skin. “Oh trust me, I am very impressed. And the second we’re alone after the race this outfit will be on the floor.”

You laugh as he nuzzles into your neck, nipping lightly. Somehow, you manage to fall more in love with Max every day.

You eventually disentangle, needing to actually get ready for the day ahead.

“What should I wear in the meantime?” You muse, fingers drifting over the designer options.

Before you can choose, Max comes up behind you and starts guiding a silk robe onto your shoulders.

“How about nothing at all? I’m enjoying this view already,” he murmurs against your skin as he wraps the sash loosely around your waist.

You lean back into him with a hum of pleasure. “Well if you insist ...”

Max takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you back against the pillows. He undoes the robe just enough to expose your body as he trails kisses everywhere. “Mmm yes, this is much better than any outfit.”

You run your fingers through his hair, arching into his touch. “What happened to getting ready for the race?” You breathe.

Max pauses his kisses just below your navel to flash a wicked grin up at you. “Race day can wait for a few more minutes. Right now I want to appreciate my gorgeous girl.”

You have zero arguments with that logic. With a happy sigh, you surrender to his skilled and eager mouth, letting all other concerns fade away. Everything else will have its turn — being worshiped by Max is the only thing on your schedule this morning.

Eventually though, you manage to dress and make your way to the circuit. As you ride through the streets together on the way, Max keeps an arm curled tightly around you.

“You know, despite the fancy clothes and jewelry, you’re still the same humble, kind-hearted woman I fell for,” Max says, kissing your temple. “All that other stuff just enhances your inner beauty.”

You smile and squeeze his hand as you lift your lips to meet his. “You always know just what to say.”

You keep your chin up and shoulders back as you step onto the harborside track that will soon be swarming with VIPs. With Max by your side, you have everything you need — now and always.

***

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

The cheers of the crowd echo in your ears as you watch Max pass the chequered flag, securing his win. Your heart swells with pride and love as he pulls the car over to parc fermé and hops out, immediately searching for you on the other side of the barriers.

The second his eyes land on yours, his face lights up with that smile that melts you every time. He’s barely stepped out of the car before you launch yourself into his arms.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you,” you breathlessly exclaim.

Max laughs and pulls you closer. “I’m just happy to win it for you, liefje.”

Still holding you against his chest, he claims your mouth in a fierce celebratory kiss as the team and cameras swarm around. Your world narrows to just the feeling of his lips on yours, his race suit damp with sweat under your palms.

When you finally break for air, foreheads touching, Max murmurs “I love you so much. This one was for you.”

Your answering smile feels brighter than the Monaco sunshine. “I love you too. You were incredible today.”

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a euphoric blur. Max keeps you tucked close to his side whenever he can, his arm firmly around your waist. He only has eyes for you despite the chaos surrounding him.

Finally escaping to the privacy of his driver’s room in the Red Bull motorhome, Max properly ravages you up against the door. The heady mix of victory and desire is intoxicating.

Much later, surrounded by empty champagne bottles with Max nuzzling lazy kisses across your bare shoulders, you hear a tentative knock.

“Decent?” Comes Emma’s teasing voice.

“Just a minute!” You call out, scrambling for your discarded dress.

Max pouts adorably as you wriggle back into it. “Do we have to go out? I’m enjoying having you all to myself ...”

You smile and kiss him sweetly. “Soon baby. But let’s celebrate with some friends first.”

Max sighs but nods, taking your hand as you go open the door. Emma’s eyebrows shoot up as she takes in your thoroughly debauched state, but she politely doesn’t comment.

“Y/N! There you are! Oh, and congrats on the win,” she says to Max before turning back to you. “We’re all heading to Jimmy’z for the afterparty. You have to come!”

You hesitate, glancing at Max. “Oh, actually we already have plans ...”

“Come on, it will be like old times! We can squeeze you both in, I’m sure,” Emma pleads. Your former colleagues are beckoned over — Tom, Will, Sarah, and others waving excitedly.

Their eager faces make you pause, but Max just chuckles and slides an arm around your waist. “No need for squeezing into crowded clubs. I’ve already reserved some VIP booths so we can party properly.” He winks down at you.

“Oh! Well in that case, we’ll see you there.” Emma looks impressed. The others chatter excitedly as they head off to get ready.

You grin up at Max, arms looped around his neck. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Only the best for you, beautiful.” He kisses you softly before you head off hand-in-hand.

After making yourselves presentable again, you set out into the Monaco night. The Circuit de Monaco is still abuzz with energy, music and laughter pouring from every corner.

The line outside Jimmy’z stretches far down the block. But the bouncer immediately waves you through with a respectful “Mr. Verstappen, this way please.”

You exchange a smile with Max, who keeps you tucked close against his side. It still feels surreal being ushered into exclusive areas that once intimidated you. Now it’s your glamorous new normal.

“Y/N, you made it!” Emma jumps up and hugs you tight. She eyes your designer outfit and perfectly styled hair. “Damn, look at you! Got that WAG glow going on.”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. “Oh, thanks! Just trying to look the part, I guess.”

You chat and laugh with Emma and your former coworkers as music pulses around you. When the Go-Go dancer comes by with a tray of sparklers, you impulsively grab two, popping one in your mouth and handing the other to a wide-eyed Emma.

She fumbles to light hers, watching as you tilt your head back and laugh, little sparks showering your face.

“Girl, you are wild tonight!” Emma has to shout over the music. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You just smile and rummage through your Birkin for lipstick to touch up, crossing and uncrossing your legs that sport sky-high Louboutins. Your time working 18 hour days hunched over a laptop feels like another lifetime.

Eventually needing a break from the noise, you head to the bar to refresh your drink. Emma joins you, peering at the menu.

“Damn, I can’t even pronounce half this stuff,” she laughs. “What are you thinking of getting?”

You scan the options. “Mmm, maybe the Dom Pérignon Rosé? Sounds nice.”

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “You really have gone full glam. I don’t think I ever saw you drink anything but Heineken at the track.”

You scoff, “Well we didn’t exactly have champagne on offer in our part of the paddock.”

You smile politely as the bartender brings your drink over. Emma is still eyeing you curiously.

“What?” You ask, laughing under her scrutiny.

“Nothing, just ...” She waves a hand at you. “Look at you with the designer outfit, Birkin bag, $500 drinks … you’re a whole new woman!”

You take a sip of the bubbly pink liquid and just smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, not at all!” Emma rushes to say. “You seem really happy. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You were always the practical, focused one. Now you look … fully embraced by the glitz.”

You lean against the bar, considering her words. She’s right — the old you never could’ve imagined fully embracing this lifestyle. But now you can’t imagine anything else.

“I am happier than I’ve ever been,” you tell her honestly. “With Max I’m free to enjoy life and not worry about anything. He takes care of it all.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “So he just … pays for everything, and you live this champagne lifestyle together?”

You smile, fingering the enormous diamond on your left hand. “Basically, yes. And it’s as amazing as it sounds. I’ll never need to work or stress over bills or anything again.”

“Huh.” Emma takes a thoughtful sip of her own drink. “Don’t you ever miss the thrill of data crunching and racing strategy though?”

You consider it for a moment. The thought of long hours analyzing race stats and performance metrics makes your brain hurt.

“You know … I really don’t,” you realize. “I can barely even remember the programs and systems we used. And I like it that way.”

Emma nods slowly. You can tell she’s making an effort to be open-minded about your new life. Before she can respond, you feel the presence of someone behind you.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Max murmurs, sliding his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck. “This party is nowhere near as fun without you.”

You lean back into him happily. His passion and desire for you still give you the same flutters as that first night together in Barcelona. You doubt that will ever change.

Turning in his arms, you accept the kiss he gives you, not caring that Emma is still standing there. Let her see how crazy you are for each other.

When you pull back, Max smiles down at you like you’re the only person in the crowded club. “Dance with me?” He extends a hand, already gently pulling you towards the dancefloor.

You let him lead you away without a backwards glance. Emma can think what she wants, but she can’t possibly understand your relationship with Max. You know this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Max hands you a fresh glass of champagne and keeps an arm curled around your waist as you sway together. The music and alcohol fill you with euphoria.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Max murmurs in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You smile up at him coyly. “Feel free to keep reminding me.”

Max’s answering grin is sinful. His hands travel your body as you move together. “I plan to show you later just how irresistible I find you.”

The night flies by in a blur of dancing, drinks, and stolen kisses in the shadows with Max. Your former colleagues party into the early morning, but eventually stumble back to their hotels.

You and Max retreat back to your shared apartment just as dawn breaks over the horizon. As promised, your dress hits the floor immediately. He ravages you with hungry kisses, urging you higher and higher until you cry out his name again and again.

After, wrapped securely in his arms, you sigh in utter contentment. The smooth sheets feel divine against your skin and Max gently strokes your hair as you doze against his chest.

“So I take it you had fun?” He asks, a smile in his voice.

You lift your head to grin at him. “It was amazing. Although ...” You bite your lip coyly.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Although what, schatje?”

“Well, this part is still my favorite.” You punctuate your point by straddling his waist again, bending to kiss him deeply.

Max groans appreciatively against your mouth, hands grasping your hips. “Mmm mine too. In fact, I don’t think we’re done celebrating yet ...”

Your lips part in ecstasy and your nails rake down his back as he takes you right to the edge again and again. Finally collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs, you’re both completely spent and blissful. You curl into Max’s side, eyes drifting shut.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, the words slurring together.

Max kisses your hair, stroking your back. “I love you too, Y/N. Being with you is a dream.”

You slip into peaceful dreams still wrapped in each other. The glitz and glamour of F1 life is fun, but nothing compares to the private world you share with Max.

You’ll face the crowds and cameras again soon. But right now, lost in Max’s embrace, you have everything you need.

[rosesaints]

pairing: firefighter!yuji itadori x f!reader headcanon dump content: 18+ mdni, mix of sfw and nsfw content under the cut, so self indulgent like save me firefighter yuji itadori, save me please, i'm begging, please, please, please, i honestly don't know much about firefighters but they r so sexy, mild college au bc i just cannot help myself

firefighter!yuji itadori who falls in love with you at first sight—despite the fact that your dorm building is practically burning to a crisp, there's about twenty procedures he's breaking, his supervisor is shouting at him to get moving, and you're mildly (very). that this random guy who's supposed to be saving your home away from home from becoming a dumpster fire is just staring at you like he wants to hose you down.

firefighter!yuji itadori who tries so hard to be smooth when all is said and done, a couple fires put out, students and belongings rescued from the upper levels, and an earful from his very peeved supervisor later, fuck it, he decides he's going to shoot his shot.

if there's anything he's learned from becoming a firefighter, it's that there's no time like the present. half-burnt building in the background and all.

so when he sees you, todo's little pep talk echoing in his mind, he's so confident. he smiles, boyish in his heavy duty firefighter gear that he hopes doesn't have ash or soot all over. "man, is it hot in here or is it just you?"

"dude, my dorm almost burnt down."

of course, you still go on a date with the attractive pink-haired firefighter, because how can you say no when he's looking at you oh-so-hopefully, and there's a lil' smudge of ash on the tip of his nose, and you can tell that even though he's weary with exhaustion from such a hectic night, he still gathered up the courage to ask you out

takes you to get kakigori as a little apology for the cheesy pick-up line he pulled on you, makes you laugh so hard when he somehow creates a monstrosity, a mess of so many different flavors but he doesn't care, loves the way your head falls back and how you laugh so unabashedly

yuji's still pretty new to dating, and his firefighter schedule kind of sucks, but he tries his best to court you, like really win you over, texting you as soon as he has the chance, giving you quick phone calls when you have the time, and one time, he sends you a selfie of him way up high, shrouded by trees, rescuing a cat that almost scratches his eyes out

the second he's off duty, he's at your door with some flowers (some look like they've been plucked off the ground in a hurry, still caked in earth and roots showing, but it's the thought that counts) and whatever fun thing he's got planned for the day

with him, it's arcades, karaoke bars, theme parks, any chance for him to compete with you just a lil' bit, to show off, and just unwind since some of his shifts can be so stressful and he understands that with you being in college, it's sooo rare to find the initiative to do fun things like this

you become a regular part of his routine, he places the photo strip you guys took during a theme park day in his locker, texts or calls you as soon as he's done with his responsibilities, talks about you like you hung the sun in the sky

firefighter shifts go long, and sometimes all he wants to do when he gets home to you is to lounge on your futon and nap for hours, stretches out all his limbs and lies across your lap, mumblling sweet thank you's as you scratch his head as you tell him about your day, still responding even as he's dozing off

he can't cook for shit. "baby, i put out fires, i can't start them."

"yuji, it's eggs. how hard can it be?"

your kitchen's coated in fire extinguisher fluid only ten, short minutes later, and at the very least, yuji offers to get you guys take-out from your favorite place instead

he's so beloved by the people in your city, like the old lady he rescued during his first mission, little kids flock to him after he got their soccer ball out from a tree, cats think he's some sort of messiah after he noticed a starving pack hiding out from under the firetruck and starts giving them food regularly

yuji's someone who kisses with everything he's got, like he also appreciates the quick kisses you give him before he has to run to work, but when you're both just really into it, straddling him, letting his hands run up and down your body, breath hitching because goddamn, he just thinks you're so sexy

when he's too drained, he will pull you into his lap regardless,

the first time you have sex with him, he's so eager and excited and all he wants to do is please you. discovers very quickly that he looooves foreplay, can eat you out for hours and just relish the taste, pressing scorching hot kisses to your thighs and mumbles promises to make you cum on his tongue next time

he loves to play with your body, likes to find new ways to make it bend for him, and he especially loves your ass, loves to smack it playfully until there's just a hint of pink, squeezes and caresses you after to make it all better

when he pushes into you, he just can't help himself, it feels so good, he gets so lost in the sensation, mindless praises just cascading from his lips, falls in love with you all over again when he watches you cum, all boneless and lovedrunk

he's got crazy endurance and strength from being a firefighter that he absolutely takes advantage of, can keep fucking into you for hours, begging you, "please baby, one more? i'll be so good, i'll do it all for you, fuck, you just feel so good."

dirty, filthy mouth without even realizing it. it just comes so easily to him, he wants to shower you with praises and tell you how good you look, bouncing up and down his dick, laving his dick with so much attentiion

slow, lazy morning sex is a given after particularly exhausting shifts, climbing into your sheets next to you and groaning when you press your ass against his core, entering you within seconds and bringing you to orgasm with sensual, steadily-paced thrusts that have you holding onto him for dear life

quickies are also pretty common, yuji is down to do whatever, whenever, once fucked you in a random storage closet after you stopped by the station to drop off his bento box wearing an absolutely criminal sundress

somehow, some way, convinces his boss to take you on a spin on the ol' fire truck. he delights in the way you laugh, giddy and excited, whooping along with you when he sounds the horn and startles half the neighborhood!

© ROSESAINTS ! — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[neil-gaiman]

I just came across your account and how do we know it's really you-? Forgive me, I have the worst trust issues a human can have.

Anywho, if you are real, I love your work. I don't have a question, but a story I find kind of amusing. When I was WAY younger, like 7-10 years old, all my friends said it was a scary movie and so I would lie and say I watched it. Even though I never had. I think I was 13 or 14 when I first watched it and I was IN LOVE. I literally researched everything humanly possible about it, and then I discovered there was a book first? Let me tell you I ordered it SO fast.

(Also, because I can't stop talking, Smoke and Mirrors and Fragile Things. LOVED. I was a very nerdy kid so I devoured your books- Worked out great though, because I still love to read.)

[mismatched-sockss]

You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

[trillscienceofficer]

THIS MIGHT BE THE MOST “THESE WOMEN ARE ALL DEEPLY UNWELL” VOYAGER DIALOGUE EVER

I can't believe I entirely forgot about it until now, rewatching “Lineage”. God.

The fact that B'Elanna has obviously a clear idea of what would made her daughter “safe” in a way that she wasn't and it's giving her blond hair and no visible Klingon trait (esp. the forehead ridges) which is so, so painful to witness even outside the Klingon metaphor

the fact that before going to have it all out with Janeway, B'Elanna clearly thought about how to defend her intentions regarding her daughter and what B'Elanna landed on was a reverse-uno-card “well Janeway made Seven into a recognizably human (and blond) woman so I'm justified” and she's not entirely wrong to bring that up but also it's obvious that

it's well known among the Voyager crew that Seven had essentially no choice in determining the way she now looks but in B'Elanna's (deeply misdirected) cause-consequence thinking it was all worth it in the end because “Seven's life is much better”

Janeway obviously defends her own choices re: Seven saying that there's no comparison between the two situations and well... I'm not sure the show manages to make her rebuttal very effective, to be honest

Again, this thing where the show always frames Janeway as Seven's mother figure but I can't even be mad at that here because it's SO fucking insane how it's brought up. “You molded her into what you thought was best for her and it turned out to be good for her, so I'm going to do the same thing for my daughter.” BUT WAS IT REALLY GOOD?? HAVE ANY OF YOU ASKED SEVEN??

The way this dialogue makes it obvious that the way B'Elanna was hurt and still is by the racist harassment she encountered and encounters is THEE reason why here she can't see Seven's situation as anything similar to her own, because Seven was re-made into a (white, blond, blue-eyed) human and whatever difficulties she still finds adapting to a life free of the Collective, in B'Elanna's estimation she will always have a place on Voyager, while B'Elanna (and her daughter by extension) occupies a much harder and more precarious space within the ship (in the previous scene B'Elanna told Tom that he couldn't possibly know how it was like to be the one who's different among a group who are all one way). And this is true diegetically! ! ! ! ! ! !

And granted here B'Elanna is reacting more than thinking and I don't think this reveals any kind of deep conviction of hers. Panic in response to old trauma does not make any of us better thinkers, and B'Elanna's idea and reasoning are obviously deeply ill-advised. But the fracture between how she sees herself vs how she sees Seven's situation on the ship is also, imho, something she clearly had considered before.

I'm going to throw myself off a cliff goodbye

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ONE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, death (minor characters), bits of gore, 141 are mean pirates, kidnapping

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The village was tranquil as you stepped through it, bare feet threading through the soft grass, hands wrapped around the handle of a woven basket. It was peaceful, as it always was, without the souls of townsfolk to burden you. They didn’t dare bother you with the witness of elders around, keeping any torment to themselves until nightfall when the small vendor shops had closed up for the evening and the old folk returned to their homes.

You basked in the warm summer rays that shined down on you as you walked past the various shops. Really, they were far from any real shops, only showcasing simple merchant carts with limited supply for the village to gather, but it was a small village, and everything you needed was for mere survival. You weren’t a greedy woman, and you were plenty grateful.

Stepping up to one of the merchants, you offered a polite smile to the older woman sitting behind it, bowing your head in greeting.

“Hello, Mary,” you addressed, and she perked up from where she stood, occupied with counting together the sum of coins she’d earned throughout the day. She reflected her own smile to you, standing a bit taller. A wrinkled hand lifted to brush strands of her gray hair that had blown astray in the light breeze, revealing her radiance.

“Afternoon, dove,” she greeted in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Just need a few more herbs, is all,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away from hers to pick around her cart. Mary always had plenty on hand, and usually snuck you a few extras when you weren’t looking.

“Ah, I see. Well, you know the routine, dove. Feel free to pick as many as you need,” she encouraged. You smiled graciously, collecting a small variety of herbs and plants to place in your basket.

It was a different decision every week, seeing as you often performed trial and error with them in the comfort of your home. Despite many in your village disagreeing with your efforts, you were attempting to learn more about medicines. The village was in desperate need of a proper healer, and a female one at that. The male in current practice was much too biased and reckless, though you were sure to get a mouthful if you were to express the concern.

So, you took it upon yourself. Living in the village rather than out on the mainland, it wasn’t a simple teaching. Resources and education were much more difficult to come by, and it wasn’t deemed necessary information for women to have. It was exactly the reason why you were seen as a bit of an enigmatic outcast to all – all except Mary, of course. Perhaps she simply pitied you.

“This will be all for me, Mary,” you declared, setting the basket on top of her cart. Reaching for the small pouch that rested comfortably on your hip, you dug through it, collecting a few bronze coins and setting them in the old woman’s frail hand.

Mary accepted, placing the coins in her own pouch and throwing you a kind smile. “You sure, dove? Nothing else I can do for you?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed with a nod. “Still in the experimentation phase, I fear.”

“You’ll get there,” she assured, clasping one of your hands between both of hers and giving it an encouraging shake before releasing. “Perhaps I’ll come visit you one of these days. An old lady like myself could use a few tweaks.”

This elicited a light laugh from you, shaking your head as you grasped the basket. “You look as healthy as a babe, Mary. But yes, please do. You know my door is always open for you.”

The two of you said your sweet farewells before you set off down the grassy trail once again. You passed the other merchants, who didn’t welcome you with the same kindness Mary had, but didn’t scare you away with shrewdness either. It was a typical routine, at this point, for others to look down on you. A woman, unwilling to marry and bear children and instead, studying medicine. A true scandal, some might say.

The walk back to your home was done so without issue, but when your humble abode came into sight, tucked away on the farther side of the village for more private practice, the faces of recognizable men came into view. This was just as frequent as the judgeful side eyes you received, but much more inconvenient.

“Afternoon, dove,” one of the men greeted with a slimy smile, the nickname the village had given you slipping off of his tongue like rotted poison. Dove, a name of something so beautiful, given out of mere pettiness. You were free like a bird, yet you should’ve been confined to your cage. Something pretty to look at, but proving no use. “Never quite got back to me about my courtship.”

Right. You had ignored it on purpose. Though deemed as strange and grotesque by the townspeople, this particular man hadn’t quite gotten the hint. Lucius was his name, fitting, seeing as he was as close to the devil as they came. Conceited and boastful with no decency of leaving you be.

He was awfully determined in wanting to fix you, to make you the housewife everybody expected you to be, just like the other village women. It was common practice, seeing as women didn’t do much other than simply that. While some were quite content with that lifestyle, you sought out more. You didn’t want to be chained down to a simple man who had nothing but arrogance to offer, nor a man you weren’t in love with.

“Yes, that’s quite right,” you confirmed dryly, stepping up to your home. He blocked the doorway, barricading you from entering.

“It’s quite rude for a lady to reject,” he interjected, a devilish smile plastered on his face. You blinked up at him with a look of indifference. “I am only asking for an answer.”

“I believe I’ve told you no plenty of times,” you sighed, adjusting the basket on your hip. “I am simply not interested.”

He sucked his teeth together, glowering down at you from where he stood. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with the answer, but unfortunately for him, it was all he was going to get. You were solid with your decision, and god forbid you did change your mind on being a wife and mother, it would not be with him.

“Can’t change your mind at all, dove?” he asked in fake sweetness, reaching for your hand that wasn’t holding the basket. He took it in his grip, much too tight for your liking. “Perhaps I can help change it if you give me one night.”

You scowled at his underlying tone, pulling your hand from his grasp and resting it on the knob of your door. You pushed it open, stepping inside before turning to him. “Please do not humor me with such indications. I am not interested, nor will I change my mind.”

Abruptly closing the door on him, you settled inside of your home, breathing a low sigh of relief. You could hear his faint chuckles with the other men present, their footsteps soft against the grass as they took their leave. He never took things too far, such as forcing his way into your home or worse, forcing himself on you, but you feared that day may come the longer you rejected his advances.

You set your basket on your desk, slouching down in the old chair you’d spend days upon days occupied in. Your journal sat open with ink scattered on the pages in your scribbled handwriting, brief sketches drawn about of the varying herbs you worked tirelessly on. Above you, jars lined the shelves with fading labels, filled with makeshift medicines of all kinds.

With the village and its people now out of sight and out of mind, you resumed your studies with the fresh herbs, focusing on what your heart truly desired.

You don’t remember falling asleep. It had been hours of you with a pen in your hand, jotting down useful notes for your studies, and it was no surprise you had succumbed to exhaustion at the comfort of your desk. Your cot in the corner of the room was more a stranger than anything, but with the sight of moonlight still pouring in through your small windows, you debated on moving over to it so you could resume.

Standing from your desk, you rubbed the sleepiness crusting over your eyes, a yawn threatening to tug through your throat. Just as you began your short trek to your bed, a slight tinge of orange caught your eye, peeking in through your window. It was faint, barely knowledgeable.

Curiosity got the best of you, and through your hazy state, you tugged open the front door of your small cottage, daring to see what was outside. The orange grew brighter in view now that the door opening had allowed more light to pool in, and when you rubbed at your eyes once more, you recognized it as fire.

Fire, burning fiercely in the night, eating away at your village. The sounds of terrified screams and chaotic madness became abundantly clear when you stepped outside. It made your blood run cold. All hairs on your body stood straight in warning, beckoning you to return inside, to hide.

As much as you wanted to listen, the first thing to vacate your mind was Mary. In the brush of flames, you needed to know if she was alright, if she had gotten to safety before the angry fire had broken into her own home. Where most of the townsfolk treated you as a mere joke, Mary was the one who had given you kindness when needed.

Your feet moved in a rush to sprint towards the village, the grass damp from the midnight dew and sticking to your soles. The closer you came towards the heart of the village, the louder things grew. It was blood-curling, hearing booming voices bark various orders while others shouted in petrified fear. Mary’s house was on the other side of the village, and in an act of triumph, you aimed for it.

The heat of the flames became more apparent as you closed in on the town center. Townsfolk that you had grown with since a baby were in a frenzy, some bloodied, some weeping. They looked like they had gone through the pits of hell and crawled their way out, only to be inches away from being dragged back in again.

There was no explanation for why the men of your village were wearing the crimson color of fresh blood, or why some were laying in broken heaps on the ground. They were in agony, shrieking in deafening decibels. The healer in you wanted to stop everything you were doing to aid them, but the child in you wanted to reach Mary first.

You did what your heart wanted and ran for Mary.

Approaching her house, the flames had not yet approached. It wasn’t burned to ash, nor was it in shambles. Instead, one large man had Mary in their hold by each of her arms as she attempted to fight him off while another ransacked her home.

“Mary!” you shouted, helpless. The man’s head whipped in the direction of your voice, cruel eyes narrowing in on you. Mary joined him, fearful eyes catching yours.

The sight of the men was foreign to you, but you’d recognize heartless monsters such as them anywhere. They were mere stories shared between the village, often used to scare the children away from the sea for their own protection. The village was so small, nobody had ever worried about the stories happening to them.

Pirates. Cruel, greedy, malicious. Like dogs off a leash, bearing sharp teeth and frothing at the mouth. They raided innocent villages for their supply, leaving it in disarray once they got what they wanted. Sick bastards who deserved punishment, yet slipped away in the roaring waves of the sea before it could be handed to them.

“Let go of her,” you pleaded with the pirate, hands clasped together. You knew you couldn’t fight him off, even if you tried. Mary was just as powerless as you, and old age was starting to catch up to her. She was fragile, and with the way he was handling her, you feared she’d get harmed.

The mysterious pirate continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression. He grunted in annoyance, loosening his grip on Mary but not quite releasing. It did nothing to comfort you, and that feeling grew tenfold when the other pirate stepped out of Mary’s home, locking in on you.

“Grab tha’ one, will ye, Gaz?” the one holding Mary huffed, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. The other, Gaz, nodded in return, sauntering up to you like death on wheels. You needed to run, to escape, but he was too quick. Before you knew it, Gaz’s arms had wrapped around your waist, hauling you over his shoulder like a doll.

Flailing in his embrace did nothing. His grip was firm, arm locked on to you impossibly tight, and the punches you threw to his back seemed almost comical to him.

“Find anythin’?” the other asked Gaz. Gaz shook his head, releasing a frustrated exhale.

As chaos ensued around you, the two men began dragging you and Mary along towards the heart of the village where you were moments ago. Gaz’s grip loosened on you, before he dropped you to the damp ground carelessly. You landed with a huff, soreness soaring through your back.

Looking around, you realized that many of the townsfolk were in the same condition. Lined up besides one another, pleading for their lives, weeping with ugly snot running from their noses. Mary was beside you, shaken but unharmed from the looks of it. She stared at you with heart wrenching fright, and you wished you could’ve told her things would be okay.

But they weren’t. The village was set ablaze, its people lined up like prisoners with a group of pirates looming over them like reapers prepared for death. The peace from this afternoon had vanished, and there would be no return. Things would be forever different, if they spared your lives.

Gaz and the other pirate stood side by side as they looked over the townsfolk. Another was beside them, face distorted by a ghastly mask that resembled a skull. It sent shivers down your spine. It was as if you truly were looking death in the eye.

A fourth pirate stepped forward, eyes that should’ve been considered kind instead staring down every last villager with heated observation. He was silent as he paced slowly, hands behind his back, the fire casting a doomful glow upon his face.

“My name is Captain Price,” he introduced. His voice was booming with authority. “If you do not wish to aid us, then we do not wish to aid you. The choice is yours.”

Sweat beaded your hairline from both the flames of fire scorching around you, and the anxiety that spiked inside of you. Your eyes locked in on the Captain, watching his every movement, noting the way he stood tall and proud, showcasing the true power he held. The villagers and you were helpless against him and his crew, and he was ensuring that it was obvious.

“We seek a medic. If you cannot provide that to us, then you are of no use to me,” he explained, pausing his pacing. He took in the sight of every grim face. Once he landed on you, you shivered, looking away in a panic. “I will ask you once. Who is your medic?”

Deafening silence filled the air apart from the flickering flames that threatened to consume us whole. Nobody dared to speak a word, nor did they look away from Price. It was as if time had stopped and everybody froze.

Price sniffed, glancing around the villagers. Though he seemed collected in his behavior, you could recognize the impatience from the way his lip twitched and his shoulders tensed.

“The Captain asked you lot a question,” Gaz sneered in defense. Price spared him a glance before returning focus. Still, nobody spoke for the next few moments.

It wasn’t until Price’s hand drifted to his waist, hand coming to rest on a handgun that the air shifted into one of unease. The sight of it made you sick to the stomach. Handguns were a specialty only the wealthy or military could acquire. They were rare and expensive, a luxury to some, but deadly. One click, and your soul was taken right from your body.

Price grasped the handgun, holding it in his hand as if it were a toy. He stepped up to the line of villagers, peering down at them like useless pigs. The sight of the gun had women quivering in fear, tears streaming down their rosy cheeks. The men were men no more, stripped away of their masculinity and replaced with little boys, unable to protect their kin and fulfill their duty as defenders.

The gun was raised, threat building with every inch. The barrel pointed right at the horror-stricken face of the very man who intruded on your home earlier – Lucius. Gone was the cocky mockery of a man, replaced with a whimpering boy who feared death just as much as another. He was shaking, shoulders slouched in attempts to appear small.

“We will try this again,” Price demanded. The cold barrel pressed to the temple of Lucius’ head and you could do nothing but sit and watch, unsure of what to feel. Sure, he kept a sour taste in your mouth simply from being. But to wish death on him for being a hindrance was distasteful. “Who is your medic?”

Lucius wouldn’t possibly rat you out. He was a selfish man who took what he wanted, but surely, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that cruel.

The coward’s shaky hand lifted to point in your direction. It felt as if he were throwing a sharp dagger at you, the way he exposed the occupation you’d been so meticulously working hard towards.

Eyes shifted towards you, sending an ice cold burst through your veins. They were prodding, dissecting you from head to toe as if you were an experiment for them to test on. It was unsettling, sinking your heart down to the pits of your stomach.

“You’re the medic?” Price questioned. He hadn’t lowered his weapon, keeping it firm against Lucius’ skull, but his attention had shifted to you. His eyes weren’t warm and kind like they were shaped out to be, but rather cold, glossed over with hardened hostility.

“I–” You swallowed. “I am merely a medic in practice. I am not a professional, I do not know proper teachings–”

“Ghost,” he interrupted, whipping his head to look at the masked man. Ghost was a brute of a man, a shadow that would’ve been consumed by the night if not for the illuminating glow coming from the village in flames. “Take her so she can gather her things. She’s coming with us.”

Dread struck you right to the core. You wanted to beg for them to leave you be, to explain that you weren’t what they wanted. You didn’t want to be stripped from your home and tossed onto a ship with no clue of where your next destination was. These men were dangerous, seeping pure rancor and poisoning the very ground you laid on. Leaving with them was a death sentence.

Ghost said nothing, and even if he did, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it from the subtle weeping from villagers beside you. His strides were long as he approached you, and without warning, his rough hand grasped your elbow, hauling you to your feet. The force startled you, throwing you off balance but his grip was tight enough to keep you grounded.

As you were dragged away towards the direction of your home, you could hear an uproar of cries. Terror struck the village once more and you could do nothing but accept fate for what it was. You wanted to turn your head to see what was becoming of your people, but you were scared. Scared of what you may see, scared of what Ghost will do if you look.

You kept your gaze forward, legs moving quickly to match the heavy pace of Ghost, guiding the lion into your den.

Arriving at your home, you were hit with the realization that it would be the last time entering it. Your hard work would vanish, the space you made into your security blanket would be destroyed, burned to ash once the flames settled. It tore your heart to bits.

“Hurry up,” Ghost gruffed, his voice gravelly and hoarse. Just like Price, it was assertive, leaving no room for discussion.

You made haste to pack your essentials into a flimsy satchel. It wouldn’t be able to fit much, and you could only pray they would at least provide you with bare necessities on your voyage to hell. In your satchel went your journal, the cluttered jars of experimental medicines, your favorite quill, and a daring change of clothes. If Ghost thought you to remain alive long enough to have the opportunity to redress, he didn’t express it.

“That all?” he huffed, and when you nodded, he seized your arm again. “Let’s go.”

The sight of your home became a distant memory the farther you went from it. Already your body was pleading to go back, to curl up in bed and pretend that all of this was a sick dream. You regretted not making your cot of more use, sleeping in that damned wooden chair instead.

By the time you arrived back at the town center, it was like witnessing purgatory itself. Bloodshed with the bodies of your people laid across the ground like animals tossed aside. Useless and unworthy, that was how these pirates treated them. Though your people had never been kind to you, this was a fate you would never have wished upon them.

Their faces were unrecognizable as you took them in. Some burned, some beaten so bloody their faces had swelled into ugly monsters, some slain. The sight of the deceased made you want to vomit, bile piling in your throat and threatening to expel out.

Your eyes frantically searched for Mary, aching to know if they had given her mercy. She was a frail woman, withering with her age. She was innocent.

You couldn’t find her familiar face, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or dreadful.

The three other pirates were standing around one another. They were unphased by the actions they had bestowed upon the village, as if it was another simple day. It unnerved you, rattling your bones with burrowing fear. When they noticed the return of you and their crewmate, they wasted no time in guiding you off to the small port in which their ship had been docked.

It was large, wood tainted with brown so dark it could’ve been black. It blended in with the abyss of the sea, which you realized was entirely the point. Unnoticed and concealed.

Ghost didn’t let go of you as he helped you on to the ship, nor did he release once your bare feet connected with the wood. It was just as restricting as before, causing a light pulse to form in your bicep where he held you.

“Take her to the chambers until we figure out the next step,” Price ordered Ghost, nodding his head in the direction of raggedy doors. You could only imagine what lies behind them, waiting for you.

Ghost grunted in response, tugging you with him and having you stumble on your own two feet. The wood was rough and sharp on your soles, slicing tiny splinters into your skin. Shoes weren’t needed in your village unless it was winter, and even then, the grass was always enough to consume them in warmth. Now, you were regretting not owning a pair.

“In you go,” Ghost uttered once he had the door pulled open, shoving you down a small flight of stairs towards the lower section of the ship. It was dingy and unlit, the only light seeping in being the moonlight from a tiny window.

Once inside, you recognized your new home as a cell. Barred and caged in, being tossed inside carelessly. There was nothing but a cot and a bucket to relieve yourself. It was completely empty and void of comfort.

Ghost shut the cell door, locking it with an annoyed grunt. You hadn’t even noticed him pull out the set of keys to open it for you, nor had you noticed when he locked you in. You watched as he thrusted the keys in his back pocket, the only evidence of its presence being the small glint of metal from the moon’s light.

“Wait!” you cried out when he turned to leave. You scrambled on the cell floor, hands wrapping around the cold bars. He paused his walk, throwing you a look of disinterest. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

Ghost snorted in what you dared to say amusement. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, princess. You’ll be of use soon enough.”

Ignoring your pleas, he stepped up the stairs and returned to the main deck, shutting the door and leaving you utterly alone. Silence filled the air apart from the calming waves of the sea, though it did nothing to soothe you. You were helpless, deprived of any form of escape.

You spent what felt like hours on the floor of your cell, weeping into your own hands, silently praying to a God to release you. When nobody came to your rescue, you knew it was far too late for a miracle. This would be your new life, your new home, for as long as they kept you alive.

Part of you wished they would’ve just killed you instead.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ☾ ━━━ PROMPTS: NSFW 15 "if i have to stop what i'm doing then you're not gonna be able to walk for the next week." + 21 "i'm really in the mood to tease you today." ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: TEASING, HARD DOM! CHAN, BRAT! READER, FEM!READER, ORAL (M & F REC), FINGERING, UNPROTECTED SEX, IMPLIED SECOND ROUND, NIPPLE PLAY, CREAM PIE, CUM EATING, NOT PROOF READ ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.7K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Chan typically never brought his work home. He preferred to keep everything at the studio and not worry on his days off so he could sleep in and spend time with his girlfriend. But he, Changbin, and Han were working on a 3RACHA song so he figured, since he only had a few things left to work on on the track that would take no more than an hour, he’d bring it home to work on. 

     But, it did not take an hour like he promised his girlfriend. He was getting stressed about it now. He wanted to get it done today to be able to give the other two the finished project. But now Y/n had other plans. 

     She saw him stressing out again and was also a little upset once that hour mark hit and he was still sitting at that damn computer. So she wandered over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek

     “Almost done love,” Chan told her as he listened to a part again

     “You said that thirty minutes ago baby,” Y/n told him, “Save it and come snuggle. let the guys listen and give their two cents later.”

     “Promised them I’d finish,” Chan mumbled into his hand

     “Chan,” Y/n warned him

     “I'm almost done, swear.”

     Y/n sighed and moved between him and the screen, pushing his chair back slightly.

     “Love…” Chan sighed, leaning back and pulling her onto his lap, “I promise, I just need ten minutes more on this. Then I'm all yours.”

     Y/n sighed, she truly was going to give him ten minutes and then she was going to start teasing him. For now, she just cuddled into his chest “Ten minutes,” She said

     “Thank you,” Chan kissed the side of her head

     “Full disclosure though, I’m really in the mood to tease you today.”

     “Noted,” Chan laughed, kind of thinking she was joking.

     He learned after about five of those minutes, that she was not. She started kissing his neck and collar as a warning and he moved one hand to grip her hip

     “Baby…” Chan warned

     “Hm?” Y/n mumbled as she sucked on his skin

     “If I have to stop what I’m doing then you’re not gonna walk for the next week.”

     “Hm. Should have thought of that an hour ago babe,” Y/n continued, knowing Chan was utterly weak to her kisses, escape when she rolled her hips against the semi he was working up. 

     A very quiet “Fuck,” escaped Chan’s lips. 

     Y/n giggled as she continued; pressing herself down harder on him, sneaking one hand up his shirt, leaving love bites and bruises above the collar of his shirt

     She hadn't even processed; he had saved his work and removed his headphones until he stood up from the chair. “Warned you.”

     “Awe, did I get you worked up?” Y/n giggled as he walked towards their bedroom. 

     “Poor baby woke up needy today,” Chan teased back before he tossed her on the bed like a rag doll. 

     Y/n let out a yelp of surprise as she hit the mattress and Chan tossed off his shirt. Y/n smiled as she eyed her boyfriend up and down. Chan grabbed her hips, brought her to the edge of the bed, and started kissing down her neck, leaving small bites as he went. Hands moving up her shirt— technically his shirt— and groping her bare breasts. Y/n mewled as she arched toward him. 

     “If you wanted my attention you should have asked baby. You know to use your words,” Chan mumbled against her neck

     “But that’s not fun,” Y/n giggled as she pushed her fingers into his hair

     “And teasing me while I’m working is fun for you?” His thumbs rolled over her nipples

     “Not supposed to be working today.”

     Chan knew she was right, but he also knew she was in a mood. A bratty one at that, one he was used to seeing. She always seemed to think it was funny to be a brat when he was busy.

     “Up,” he commanded as he stood back. Y/n smiled as she just sat up, knowing he meant to stand up, not sit up

     Chan said nothing, just grabbed her wrist and pulled her up onto her feet roughly, grabbing her neck with his other hand before she hit his chest. “This is not gonna go your way, darling.”

     “I think it will,” Y/n grinned

     “Knees,” Chan instructed

     “Say please,” Y/n fake pouted

     Chan clicked his tongue before forcing her down on her knees, hand sliding up to grab her chin and force her to look up at him. “Mouth open, tongue out.”     Chan’s free hand dipped into his pants and pulled his cock out of his gym shorts. Y/n waited below him, almost impatiently. Chan smiled down at her as he placed the tip on her tongue, sliding it along her tongue before pushing it fully into her mouth. Y/n gagged a bit as he hit the back of her throat. 

     Chan moved his hand to hold the back of her head rather than her chin. Chan let himself sit in her mouth, keeping her still. After he enjoyed the warmth of her mouth for a moment, he pulled his hips back and pushed back in. Hand gripping the roots of her hair as he fucked her face. Y/n grabbed onto his thighs, letting him do what he wanted to her as she watched from below through her lashes. Moaning around his cock and hallowing her cheeks out for him.

     “Fuck, feel so good.” He picked up his pace and glanced down at her, “Gonna come in that damn mouth of yours, baby.”

     A few thrusts later he held his promise. Coming in her mouth and then pulling out a few moments later, letting her mouth hang open as the last bit of his come shot into her mouth and partially on her chin.

     “Don’t swallow,” Chan said as he grabbed her chin, bringing her back to her feet. “You swallow it when I tell you to, got it?”

     “Mhm,” Y/n replied as best she could with her mouth full. Chan smiled and pushed the come from her chin into her mouth and told her to close her mouth.

     Chan took the action of stripping her of her clothes and then pushing her back on the bed again, bringing her right to the edge of the mattress. He propped her head up with a couple of pillows before getting on his knees in front of her and spreading her legs wide, now face to face with her wet cunt.

     “You watch me the whole time baby and only get to touch if you want me to stop. You look away or swallow you don’t get to come, got it? ”

     Y/n nodded her head before he dove right in. Didn’t give her any warning before his plump lips wrapped around her clit and sucked hard. Y/n moaned and kept her eyes on him as he ran a finger between her folds. Chan teased her wet hole, dipping just a bit as he lapped at her clit. 

     He caught her eye just as he slipped his finger in, chuckling at her reaction. The vibration against her clit made the knot tighten in her lower stomach. She gripped the bed sheets as tight as she could while he fucked his finger into her. 

     Chan pushed in a second finger, and then a third as his tongue flicked her clit. Her legs started shaking as she tried to scream that she was close. But it was pretty impossible with the cum in her mouth. 

     “Gonna be good and come for me?” Chan asked 

     “Mhm,” Y/n nodded

     “Go ahead baby,” Chan thrusted his fingers into her faster until she came on them. He didn’t let her rest, fingering her through her high and licking her clean once she came down. 

     Y/n whined from the bit of sensitivity and Chan smiled again and came up to hover over her and kiss her neck. One hand stayed between their bodies, sliding his tip between her folds. Y/n mewled and bucked her hips against him. 

     “Always so damn needy. Aren't you?” Chan laughed as he slid the tip into her

      Y/n nodded in response as he fucked the tip into her slowly. He pulled out of her and stood back. Y/n eyed him, trying to converse she wanted him in her again. Chan grabbed the pillows from under her head and moved them down under her lower back. 

     He moved back into position again and rather than starting with the tip, he pushed into her in one go. Y/n arched back due to the angle he was in. Chan grabbed her hips and started thrusting in at a fast and rough pace. She wanted to scream in pleasure but couldn’t. 

     Chan watched her, trying not to swallow him or let it leak from her lips. He smiled when he noticed a bit came out as her jaw opened a bit. “Swallow baby. Wanna hear you.”

     Chan leaned forward and kissed her breasts as she swallowed his cum that had now mixed with her saliva. His lips wrapped around her nipple and one hand came up to knead her other breast. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n groaned from all the stimulation. 

     His other hand moved slightly over and rubbed her sensitive clit with his thumb. She started squirming under him as her legs wrapped around his waist while he rutted into her. 

     He popped her nipple out of his mouth and switched to the other one and gave it the same attention. 

    “Wanna come, Chan,” Y/n squeaked out

    “Gonna give me another one?” Chan asked as he pulled away from her breasts and looked up at her

     “Yes! Wanna come for you again, please!”

     “Give it to me,” Chan placed his lips back on her skin. 

     A few moments later she came on his cock. Chan groaned when her walls gripped him tight, pulling him in deeper. Chan moved his kisses up to her neck as chased his own, snapping his hips harder into her before stilling and painting her insides with his come. 

     “Should have stopped working earlier,” Y/n sighed as they both came down

     Chan stood back and pulled out of her, “On your stomach.”

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[tiredfox64]

Hello! I know today is Father's Day and I don't see much father's day stuff so I was wondering if you could write different scenarios for each of the Lin Kuei trio that are surprised by the reader and their kids for father's day?

Happy Father’s Day

Yip notes: No fatherless behavior here

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: FATHER INTO YOUR HANDS-

Bi-Han

Bi-Han was not big on Father’s Day. That day had been nonexistent for years and it truly ceased to exist once he let his father die. Even when he married you and you had his first child he could not care about Father’s Day. It’s just another day for him.

But he is a father now. You want to celebrate that because he was a good father to his son. He may be the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei but he still makes time to spend with him. He puts in a lot of effort to teach his son how to defend himself and encourages him to help you whenever you need it. Basically, he’s trying to teach him to be a man at five years old. It’s good to teach them responsibility early on.

There is one thing that Bi-Han wishes his son could be and that’s to be a cyromancer just like him. He hasn’t show any signs that he has this ability or any other powers. His son is an excellent fighter but he could do so much more if he had his father’s abilities. He can’t force the ability to perform cyromancy on his son, that’s obvious. He also won’t punish him for not having it.

But the universe is always surprising people. And there is a special surprise waiting for Bi-Han this Father’s Day that you have discovered.

While finishing up breakfast and giving your son his food you noticed him looking at his juice with a grumpy face. He looked at it like it insulted him. You checked to see if something was wrong with it but the only issue you could detect was that it was warm. No one likes warm grape juice. That’s when your son decided to place his hand over the top of the cup and you began to see cold mist emanating from his hands. Some of the juice began to freeze, even making a squeaking sound while forming. A couple of purple ice cubes floated to the top of the juice and your son continued eating breakfast like that was normal.

“Wha—When did you learn to do that?” You asked him. He shrugged like kids do when they can’t understand the impact that just had on a situation.

This was incredible. He’s a cyromancer just like his father! Oh you can’t wait to tell Bi-Han when he comes back. You gotta plan something to really surprise him.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

By the end of the day all Bi-Han wanted to do was have a good meal and relax. There was something wrong with some of his clansmen, they were acting crazier than his son when he didn’t get fruit snacks. He’s happy to come back to a sane wife and a tranquil son. But that smile on your face does not yell sane. It yells ‘You have something planned and that could mean murder’. You ran up to him and hugged him so tightly that he wondered where you gained this strength. After placing a dozen kisses all over his face you ushered him to sit down and eat.

“What did you do? Have you murdered someone? Are you trying to murder me now?” He has always heard about wives killing their husbands in creative ways but never would he imagine he would be a victim.

“No! It’s just a special day.” You reassured him that you wouldn’t kill him.

Me personally-

Bi-Han still looked at you with the tiniest bit of concern, but he did notice that you made him his favorite dish. He was incredibly hungry after the day so he really wanted to eat. As he satisfied his hunger your son came in with the teacups so you could serve his father some tea. Tea that was hella hot. Like hell kind of hot. Woman! What are you doing?!

The amount of stream coming from the warm liquid as you poured it into the cup indicated how hot it was. Bi-Han stared at it wide-eyed before staring up at you. But you acted clueless and like it was a simple mistake.

“Oops, looks like it’s too hot,” You looked down at your son, “Sweetie, would you mind helping mama cool down daddy’s tea?”

Your son was shaking his head frantically with so much excitement in his eyes. You picked him up and brought him closer to the cup but not too close that he would actually touch it. He placed both of his hands out. Soon, Bi-Han started to hear the sound of ice cracking and forming in a matter of seconds. The steam from the hot tea began to dwindle until it was a faint vapor. When Bi-Han looked closer he found that there were a few pieces of ice that seemed to be made from the tea. His eyes were now wide with surprise.

A faint smile appeared on your husband’s lips as he looked at you and your son. He got up from his chair and began hugging you both. He congratulated his son for gaining his abilities and having some control over them. Better to find out this way than when he has a tantrum. Then Bi-Han looked at you. There was so much love and adoration in his dark eyes. You were the woman to give him a wonderful son who he feels pride in. A son who everyone will believe is his. He could not thank you enough for giving him such a wonderful gift that he will hold onto until his death. He will forever be grateful that you gave him the family he desired.

He could thank you on Mother’s Day though.

Kuai Liang

You always informed your twins to respect their father. Kuai Liang was a hard-working man who built his clan from the ground up just so he could protect Earthrealm and more importantly his family. Even with all that responsibility weighing down on Kuai Liang he still made an effort to be with his children. He didn’t mind having his daughter and son by his side as he trained the initiates. They did help him calm himself down when the initiates were an absolute trainwreck. If his daughter wasn’t there patting his arm and telling him that he was doing his best he would have bursted out into flames a long time ago. She’s pretty smart for a five-year-old. And his son is pretty fiery. He’s yelling at those initiates like he was a drill sergeant.

Recently, the twins have been with you more often. That’s fine, he doesn’t think they are picking favorites, but he does miss their company. But they should get more time with mama. It’s important that you both get equal time with them.

Little does your husband know that you have been planning something for him. He didn’t even know Father’s Day was approaching. It will hit him in the morning.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The twins came sneaking into the bedroom in the early morning. They don’t understand time, they only understand that the sun is up so it’s go time. They got onto the bed and began lightly jumping as they told their dad to wake up. Kuai Liang groaned as he slowly began to wake up to the sound of his children giggling. They shook him away and finally, he sat up.

“What is the matter?” He asked in a sleepy voice.

“We have decided that we should begin training now.” Your son spoke for himself and his sister.

Kuai Liang fully woke up at that moment. He has been waiting for the chance to teach them how to control their fire abilities. They were early bloomers so he has been dying to do this for a long time. I was you who held back on allowing them to train even though they begged. You decided to allow it for his Father’s Day gift. You were still lying down when he turned to you for approval. That’s when you gave him a thumbs up and he was out of bed. You’ve never seen him tie his hair up into a bun so quickly.

Throughout the whole day, you saw your husband and children running around the place as he helped train them. They were focusing hard on getting their abilities to work just so they could impress their father. Your daughter was the first to get the fire started, literally. Her hand would produce this thick, black smoke before catching on fire. Her fire was like ethanol fire with the bottom having a hint of blue before transitioning into orange. It stayed steady and Kuai Liang was impressed by his daughter's commitment.

His son…well he is fiery. He so badly wanted to impress his dad that he put so much energy into it that both his hands ignited. He was so excited and he placed his hands together to see how large the fire could get. He didn’t expect to make a tiny fire whirl. The fire grew skinny but longer and burned brighter as it twirled in his hands. Kuai Liang was not ready for that at all and was worried for a second before his son closed his hands. The whirl disappeared and his son turned towards him with a large smile on his face.

“Daddy, did you see that?!” He yelled with enthusiasm.

“How could I miss it?” Kuai Liang responded.

After that fire hazard of a training session, they actually trained with the other initiates. They listened well to their father’s instructions, better than the other initiates even with some being adults. They weren’t perfect but Kuai Liang was still happy to see them making an effort especially when they helped each other out. Hopefully, that sibling love stays forever.

Half of the day was done and Kuai Liang was more than happy with the results of the day. Once he got back to you it only got better. You served him his favorite dish and you all sat down to eat dinner together. He told you all about the kids’ achievements. It warmed your heart to see his constant smile as he listened to his son or daughter explain how they felt at that moment. And then your son created another fire whirl to show you at the dinner table.

“Hey! No creating fire at the dinner table! You can only do that if we are under attack.” You scolded your son.

The end of the day came and you both put the twins to bed for the night. They were incredibly drained from the day. They have small bodies you can’t blame them. You and Kuai Liang made your way back to the bedroom and started preparing for bed. Throughout the whole time you were getting ready he would occasionally add in something else that happened in the day or something that was on his mind. It didn’t matter if it was minimal or something theoretical he wanted to talk more about the day. You started to wonder if you would get any sleep that night. But he eventually shut his mouth since he needed rest for the next day.

You both lay in bed, his forehead pressed up against yours and his arms wrapped around your waist. The only sound left was light breathing. Both your eyes were closed and you both slowly slipped into slumber. He heard you say one more thing to him.

“Happy Father’s Day.” You whispered.

“Thank you.”

Tomas

Father’s Day has been special to Tomas since you first told him you were pregnant on Father’s Day. Seeing that little onesie made his heart explode and filled his mind with the many possibilities that came with being a father. Even when your son was a baby you still made sure to make Father’s Day eventful to show how well he was doing as a father. He truly was wonderful both before and after your son was born.

Now your son is five and he understands the concept of holidays which makes it easier to plan something for Tomas. You and your son are a team with the goal of making Tomas happy for the whole day. Your son was actually the one to suggest getting his father a new karambit. It sounded like a great idea but you had to make sure to get the right one for him. Not one that was cheap or the incorrect style like a folding one. You know how much he loves his usual karambit so getting one that will make him put that one down even for a second would be a challenge. But there has been no challenge that you haven’t overcome yet. You will overcome this one as well.

You suggested to your son to ask his father to take him on a hunt. Tomas always mentioned how he wanted to teach his son to hunt both as a way to defend himself and give him a chance at survival. Your son was getting interested in finding a weapon that would fit him best. A bow and arrow was what caught his eye. So you can kill two birds with one stone by allowing Tomas to teach his son to hunt and allowing your son to figure out a bow and arrow.

A plan was made. Now to wait for Father’s Day to come.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The moment Tomas opened his eyes to the morning light his son was standing above him and asked him to take him hunting. It confused your husband because this was out of nowhere. But children decide things at random and go with it. So is it really all that strange?

Tomas debated for a bit, unsure if it was safe to do so. But he began hunting when he was six so what difference does it make? It’s one year early. If any danger were to occur, Tomas would defend his son to the very last breath. He looked towards you for approval and you said today would be a good day to do so. It was sunny and your son was clearly excited to go outside. Your husband smiled at you before giving you a kiss and getting ready for the day.

In less than an hour they were out of the house. Tomas had his karambit and a hunting knife while your son had a bow and arrow. That gave you time to prepare everything and hopefully that karambit you told Johnny to order for you will arrive in time.

Tomas was loving the conversations he was having with his son. He would randomly tell him facts about things in the woods that he learned from books you had around. He never knew there was a difference between an oyster mushroom and a maitake mushroom until it was pointed out to him. He decided to collect some for you to use later.

A few miles in, that’s when they spotted a pheasant in the distance. It was clearly a male since it was larger and more colorful. Tomas instructed his son to duck down behind a bush and keep an eye on the bird. They couldn’t miss it since its blue head popped out amongst the green foliage. Tomas helped his son to place the arrow correctly and told him to be very careful when pulling it back. Your son was very focused and his breathing was intense as he stared down the bird. Seconds passed, possibly minutes. The only sound that was heard other than the breathing was the wind. Finally, he let the arrow go and it flew in the air. It struck the pheasant and it fell limp on the ground. At that moment Tomas could not be any prouder.

He congratulated his son on his first hunt. Not only was it his first but it was a success. They were able to gather vegetables and meat to take home. When he looked down at his son from time to time he saw his younger self in him. A strong boy who was on his way to becoming a great hunter. He’ll be able to protect himself and hopefully protect you from any harm.

Once the sun began to set that’s when they made their way back home. Your son held onto his father’s hand the whole way even when they walked into the house. The pleasant smell of food hit Tomas’ nose and he recognized that you made his favorite dish for him. You absolute sweetheart, he’s so happy he married you.

He was ready to tell you all about the successful day they had once he sat down but when he did that’s when you placed a gift box in front of him. It didn’t look like anything extravagant but there was a soft smile on your face and an excited one on your son’s.

“Open it.” You gestured for him to do so.

Tomas was careful with taking the top off the box. The light reflected off the item and soon he realized what it was. A new karambit. It wasn’t just any ordinary karambit though. He took it and the handle felt perfect in his hands, like it was shaped for him. The blade was a nice, shiny black color with the sharp part of it being silver. Then something caught his eye. There was something carved in the blade. They were initials. They were his, yours, and your son’s initials.

Tears began to prick his eyes without him realizing it. The karambit just looked so beautiful and the day he had was so wonderful. He felt you and your son’s arms wrap around him before you gave him a kiss.

“Happy Father’s Day.” You said with love.

“Thank you…thank you both.” His voice quivered a little as he hugged you both back.

Yap notes: I would love to go to another baseball game with my dad. Or bet on horses. I love going to the racing tracks with him. Adiós!

[copperbadge]

[ID: A photograph of an old-timey automobile, dating from 1912; it has a soft rag top and looks like a Model T, but is in fact a Marathon K-20, made by Marathon Motor Works with a cast-iron engine and sold at cost to try and get people more interested in driving. It sits in the corner of a large well-lit room with floor-to-ceiling glass, clearly a museum exhibit of some kind.]

I honestly wasn't sure what to expect from Marathon Village when I stumbled over it while researching Nashville, but I'm actually super glad I decided to give it a shot. It's super weird, which I love, and very fun, which is a bonus! The "village" is really just a city block consisting of a handful of buildings, formerly the Marathon Motor Works. The "museum" the village houses is super tiny, really just a foyer and a single room, but it has a couple of really rare Marathon autos in it and whoever is curating the museum really has a love of the cars and of teaching, you can tell.

For example, the K-20 up above has a full page placard detailing the research that was done on it and the modifications made. My favorite part is that the Marathon logos were either pried off or ground off at some point between its sale in 1912 and it being acquired by a restorer in 1952, which they believe is because it was stolen in New York and had to be anonymized. I mean, it's 1912 and someone has stolen your car, what are you even going to do about it? It was probably stolen later when cars were more common so it wouldn't IMMEDIATELY BE SPOTTED because it's the only fucking car on the road, but still.

Aside from the museum, across the street, the old manufacturing plant has been converted into a small mall; there are a couple of tasting rooms (Jack Daniels has a large presence, and there's a wine bar), a cafe, a deli, and a handful of "get yourself a Nashville t-shirt here" type places, selling shirts and bottle-openers and such. I got a great sticker that I'm going to have to put somewhere prominent that reads DOLLY/REBA 2024. As I told the cashier, "I support literacy, the arts, and murdering your man if he's a no-account scoundrel." That could have been awkward but she enthusiastically agreed that it's good domestic policy.

[chirpycloudyrobin]

wei wuxian had barely dusted off the magma from the kiln off his person when he gets rudely yanked to mo village and mo xuanyu's side. he appears before mo xuanyu still in his bloodied yiling laozu set up and theyre both ??? confused as fuck because what the hell that wasnt supposed to happen !

turns out the whole sacrificial summon array didnt account for the possibility of summoning a ghost king. so there was no soul replacement, mo xuanyu is still alive, and wei wuxian once again walks with the living. ish. hes still dead. technically

now what ?

well mo xuanyu mustve been pretty desperate to unsubscribe from the reincarnation cycle just to get revenge on his family so wei wuxian hears him out ,,, and really really doesnt like the hand that mo xuanyu has been dealt with in his life so hes like welp time to tap into ye olde wuxian the helping hand. might as well bring in some justice now that hes back and better than ever !

but first wwx shldnt walk around looking like the entire cultivation world's worst nightmare so they brainstorm a new identity for him in that little shack.

they end up deciding that wwx will be a distant mo cousin. for wwx's disguise, he gave himself the birth name mo ling and the courtesy name mo shanxi. he is mo yi, courtesy name mo xuanyu's, other maternal cousin but like further down the family tree. a fourth son of a fourth son. parents dead, siblings dead. lots of fours, lots of death in the identity and the name. it's funni, cuz wwx is dead and hes a ghost and- you get the idea.

mo shanxi's an eccentric ex-rogue cultivator whose cultivating career ended early at the hands of the late core-melting hand. he has no sword because no core. hes friendly with crows because rogue cultivator things. he has a dizi because hes a traveler, a peasant, decidedly not gentry. an absolutely fool-proof disguise. no one would guess hes wei wuxian at all ! no one !

they still bust into the meeting between madam mo and the lan juniors and wwx helps mxy embarrass the entire family. they also still stay around to watch shit happen and it's during this time where wwx gives mxy practical lessons on fighting and cultivation. not demonic cultivation, mind, wwx doesnt want to damage mxy's fledgling golden core.

mxy is witness firsthand how wwx just bluescreens and takes A Minute to process seeing adult lan wangji. mxy knows that lwj is One Fine Ass Man and he, too, would undoubtedly climb lwj like a tree but wwx's reaction to lwj is just ,,, different.

hm, mxy thinks. interesting.

soon wwx snaps out of his "holy-shit-lwj" trance, grabs mxy's hand and skedaddles out of there. its funny, its camp, mxy has more questions than answers.

the entire mo family (besides mxy) is dead. the contract is complete. mxy is free.

"ykw," wwx thinks. "let's be rogue cultivators and ill teach you everything i know !" "i have absolutely nothing better to do," mxy says. "fuck it, lets go" "great ! for ur first lesson lets check out that story of a soul eating entity at dafan mountain" "what"

so ! dafan mountain. lessons going good, mxy has a good head on his shoulders. and then wwx accidentally insults his shijie's child. and then he and mxy are trapped between jc and lwj. and then they ,,, get out of it unscathed ? um

whatever, back to the lessons !

mxy was not having the best time in his life. shit got way out of hand way too quickly. he cant do anything to help in the fight so hes just trying to keep himself alive while wwx is trying to save everyone. theres too many crows and ravens yelling.

... why the fuck is wwx playing a dizi badly ?

mxy knows wwx is some kind of powerful ghost or whatever but now is not the time for a bad dizi concert ! senior wei please !!

mxy just feels really out of his depths right now as he watches everything unfold from his safe(ish) place high up a tree with a couple of wwx's creepy red-eyed crows.

he watches as the fucking ghost general answers wwx's dizi calls apparently ? (mxy may be half insane but he still knows the ghost stories they all tell about the yiling laozu and his ghost general)

he watches as wwx attempts to lead the ghost general to safety, and how his attempt is thwarted by none other than hanguang-jun himself. and then mxy is forced to watch the world's most awkward, most tense reunion in all the earth.

and then mxy sees sandu shengshou fucking whip wwx and attempt to do it a second time and he really, really cant just sit there and watch his saviour and senior be bullied.

so mxy jumps down, startles the living shit out of everyone, and proceeds to yell at them all. accuses jc of harrassment, of abuse of power, of weird kinks. wwx catches onto what mxy is doing and joins in the insanity, adding that lwj is more his type for good measure

senior wei, mxy thinks, watching lwj gaze at wwx with something in his eyes. what the actual fuck ?

if anyone asks how the hell they both ended up becoming guests at the cloud recesses, mxy will gladly tell them that it's all wwx's fault. at least mxy ended up being roomed at actual guest quarters. god knows what kind of shit is happening with wwx getting roomed in the jingshi of all places

NAME NOTES

Mò Yí (莫怡) — mo xuanyu's birthname in this au ! i like to think his mother gave him that birth name because she really wanted him to have a happy future :]

Mò Líng (莫玲) — 玲 is an onomatopoeia, referring to the sound jades make when they are hit. i like to think wwx chose this name on the spot absolutely not thinking about how a certain jade was doing lol

Mò Shànxì (莫善戲) — now this one is fun ! i took this from one of the poems in the Classic of Poetry aka Shijing aka the oldest existing collection of Chinese poetry and one of the Five Classics. it's taken from the third paragraph of the poem Qi Yu from the Odes of Wei (as in the state of Wey. unfortunately not the same wei in wwx's name. thats a diff state)

瞻彼淇奧、綠竹如簀。 有匪君子、如金如錫、如圭如璧。 寬兮綽兮、猗重較兮。 [善戲] 謔兮、不為虐兮。 Look at those recesses in the banks of the Qi, With their green bamboos, so dense together! There is our elegant and accomplished prince, - [Pure] as gold or as tin, [Soft and rich] as a sceptre of jade! How magnanimous is he and gentle! There he is in his chariot with its two high sides! Skilful is he at quips and jokes, But how does he keep from rudeness in them!

so 善戲 should translate to "good at theatrical shows" as in he's good at putting on a show ! since mo ling is essentially just a role wwx is playing and all lmao. BUT ALSO the last sentence where i took the characters describes wwx pretty well. the sentence describes the lord aka the subject of the poem as someone who is good at playing games, jokes etc. but his jokes would never be intended to harm or to be rude. so wwx :]

his disguise's courtesy name also has a nice though subtle common element w lan wangji's birth name since the zhan is thought to also be taken from the five classics uwu

[darkwolf989]

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your writing. I was wondering if I could request a one-shot of valentino's teenage daughter running away from home because she's feeling neglected with how busy the vee's always are and how they keep missing important events of hers for work. Thanks.

OMG thank you so so so much! I can't express how much I appreciate that you are a fan of my writing! It astounds me every time I get a like or a compliment that another human actually LIKES my work! It means the world to me!

The editing continues! What a weekend! Enjoy <3

I'm REALLY looking forward to not working tomorrow- happy summer y'all!

I slammed the last of my absolute favorite clothes into my duffle bag. Another game had passed, another three hours of scanning frantically through the crowds for any sign of my father- or even my Aunt Velvette or my Uncle Vox. Another night of watching, waiting for them post game, only to be met with Derek, my Dad’s favorite limo driver. 

“Your family sends their regrets,” he told me as he opened the door. “And your dad personally asked me to congratulate you on your win.” 

“Thanks,” I replied glumly as I climbed in the back. 

I laid my head against the window and wondered what could be so important that they had to miss one of the last water polo games of the year. As the miles passed, I could feel the anger growing, festering pent up emotions. Uncle Vox? His meeting was really so important he couldn’t even jump through the camera to say hi? Aunt Velvette- was her fashion show such a big deal that she couldn’t have come for even a few seconds? 

And my father…whatever it was he was so wrapped up in. I still wasn’t exactly sure what my father did for work, but I knew it involved privacy and dirty movies. And at eleven years old, I was sick of the secrecy, sick of being ignored. 

So I stalked into our empty flat and began to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need anything more than the basics. I left the gold credit card my father had given me on my night stand. I had enough cash on hand and my own personal debit card. I didn’t need his money. I didn’t need any of them. 

I shoved my watch and my cell phone under the mattress of my bed and swung open the window of my room. All the movies talked about scaling down the wall, sneaking out into the darkness of the night. But as I looked down from the very top of the V tower, I decided it was a better idea to take the elevator down. 

It was a sense of freedom as soon as I stepped outside the main entrance. The fact that no one saw me meant Vox was too busy with whatever to be watching the cameras. Far too busy to care about me. My anger continued to fester as I wandered the dark streets. The more time passed, the  more unease settled over me. Without my phone, I couldn’t access my VoxQuest GPS. Even more so than I did after the game, I felt alone. 

I turned down a side street and stepped in front of the building brightly lit up with the numbers 666. Outside, a tall shark demon in a well pressed suit leered at me. 

“Pretty thing. Need a job? We’re hiring.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder and my heart almost stopped. A job. I would need one of those but this? What was this? 

“What…kind of work are you offering?” I asked timidly.

He laughed, “oh sweetheart, you’ll be perfect. Just come inside. The boss is here, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with my…er…you.”

Against my better judgment, I followed him inside. Bright lights flashed, loud music blared and I cringed. Around me, scantily clad women rushed drinks around to demons dressed in suits. Waitressing. If that was the job, I could do it. 

“Just smile pretty, and the boss will eat it right up. Soon as he approves, we’ll get you out there with the rest of the girls. Don’t worry- we’ll give you everything you could ever need,” he said as he led me over to a table where a mix of practically naked demons surrounded one tall demon. I watched as his face buried itself into the demon directly next to him, either not noticing my approach or not caring. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but then I noticed it. 

The red jacket. 

I felt my stomach drop. No. It couldn’t be. Involuntarily, I took a step back as the demon shoved me forward.

“Hey boss, what do you think of this pretty little prospect? Innocent, young, but we’ve had a demand for that,” he said loudly, his fingers pressing hard into my shoulder. 

“D-daddy?” I practically whispered.

“Heh, you do learn quick dontcha?” The shark demon chuckled. “See? I found a good one.” 

The demon turned away from his make out session and I could feel myself pale. His expression changed instantly from annoyance to horror.

“Reader! What the fuck are you doing here?” Valentino hollered as he stood up, pushing aside the table and the surrounding girls. “All of you, out! NOW!.” 

He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the back of the club. Lights flashed and a steady stream of people moved quickly, exiting the building faster than I had ever seen anyone move. Behind us, the room went dark. 

I heard the door slam and I could feel myself shaking as I watched my father pace the room, screaming into his phone at who I assumed was Uncle Vox. Finally, he turned to me.

“How are you here? Why are you here?” He snarled, fury in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be at home, doing homework or…or…”

I could feel the fury rise, “or what, Dad?” I stepped closer to him and balled my fists. “Is this why you couldn’t come to my game tonight? You were too busy making out…making out with…” I could feel the tears of anger and frustration start to well up in the corners of my eyes. He really didn’t give a shit about me. 

I watched his expression change from anger to something I couldn’t name. 

“That was tonight.” He said slowly. “Your game was tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, it was tonight! And you promised, you fucking promised me you would be there and you didn’t, Dad! And neither did Aunt Velvette or Uncle Vox, none of you could make time in your busy schedules. If I’m so much of a burden to you I’ll just, I’ll just leave!” Unable to hold back anymore, I dropped my duffle bag and burst into sobbing tears.

“That’s why you were here, you were running away,” he said as he walked towards me. “Ninita, I…”

“Your point is made, Dad!” I yelled through the tears. “I don’t fucking matter!”

He pulled me to him and I buried my face into the white fluff of his jacket as I choked on each sob that escaped.

“You do matter, you are my world bebita,” he said quietly as he held me. “I…I never meant, I never thought we…I…” He swallowed and tightened his grasp around me. “Let’s get you home.”

“Why? So you can say you’re sorry and then do this all over again next week?” I choked out as I pushed away from him. 

He looked pained. “No. So we can figure out how to make sure this never happens again.” He lifted up my duffle bag and put his arms around me, guiding me out the back door to an awaiting limo. 

Too upset to care, I let him. 

In the limo he kept his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder as I tried desperately to stop crying. Part of me wanted to keep screaming, to keep yelling, to demand to know why he chose to do what he did tonight. But the other part of me, the bigger part of me, basked in every drop of the attention he was giving me. 

“Shussh, cariño, you’re going to give yourself the hiccups,” he said gently as he rubbed my back. “Slow, deep breaths. Shush. Listen to Daddy, okay? We’ll fix this. This will never happen again.” 

His words sent me into another spiraling round of tears. He kept the steady pressure on my back as I cried into him. Exhaustion swept over me, and eventually I closed my eyes. My entire face felt puffy and swollen. After what felt like forever, the limo stopped. 

“Come on little girl, Daddy’s got you,” he muttered as he lifted me into his arms.

Too tired to care, I let him snuggle me to his chest and I buried my face against him, I felt him carry me inside, and listened to the sound of the elevator ping. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. And finally…seven. 

“Is she okay?” Vox’s voice was full of panic. 

“She isn’t hurt, is she?” Velvette’s voice, equally as frantic. 

My father ignored them both and instead, carefully set me down on the couch. 

“That’s a girl, keep breathing. Keep calm. Daddy’s here. Velvette, would you be a dear and get a warm washcloth? And Vox…if you would put the tracker back on her wrist.”

“I’m fine,” I said as I pushed myself up. “I’m…”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “No. You’re not. And you shouldn’t be. We fucked up- I fucked up. Big time.” He turned and took the washcloth from Velvette’s hand and gently pressed it against my face. 

I closed my eyes and let him fuss over me as he dabbed at my cheeks. I felt Vox slip the tracker back on my wrist, his fingers pausing just at the pulse point. After a few minutes, he released me and I blinked my eyes open and sat up. 

“Daddy, I’m fine, I’m not hurt…”

“Not physically, but we did hurt you,” Vox said quietly. 

“We fucked up,” Velvette added as she sat down next to me. “We really fucked up.”

“We let work get in the way of our family,” Valentino said as he sat on the other side of me.

I could feel the anger start to rise as I remembered the scene I had walked in on. “Work? You call being out at a bar making out with someone work?”

Both Velvette and Vox looked at Valentino with a mix of horror and disgust. Vox sighed and gave them both a glare.  

“Only that part, Valentino. Got it?” Vox grumbled. “And only because she doesn’t need that image burned into her brain. The rest is on us.�� He turned his head to me. “Reader…you saw what now?”

I felt my fathers fingers under my chin as he tilted my head towards Vox. My gaze met his and his eye began to swirl.

“That’s right. Good.” Vox continued, “Reader, keep looking at me. What did you see?” 

Instant calm washed over me and I leaned my head against my father’s shoulder. 

“I…I saw my Dad…”

“Yeah, you did see your Dad…you saw your Dad working in his office, right? At one of his clubs?” 

I swallowed as the calm sank deeper. My memory felt soft, almost fuzzy. An image of my Dad, wrapped up in his red jacket, sitting behind a desk. The feel of the bouncers hand, guiding me into his back office. His anger, and the beginning of our fight.

“Baby? What did you see?” Vox asked again.

I blinked, a sick feeling sinking over my stomach. “I…I ran away. I got pulled into a club, and the guy took me to my Dad’s office. He was at his desk and…and we fought…” 

“Ah, babygirl,” Valentino muttered as he put his arm around me. “We didn’t fight so much as you…put me in my place. I’m sorry, cariño.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise I personally will never miss one of your games again. I love you, reader. You are my world.” 

“Our world. And we never meant to make you feel like anything else,” Velvette added quietly.

“Next time we fuck up, come barging into our office and yell, okay?” Vox pleaded as he moved himself closer. “The streets of hell are dangerous. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Yell, scream, but please don’t run away again,” Valentino muttered. “It won’t happen again. We promise.” 

I buried my face in my fathers shoulder and took a deep breath as I nodded. The sense of calm that washed over me lingered as exhaustion washed over me. 

“Promise? Like really promise? I just want your…I want you,” I mumbled.

“You have us,” Valentino said soothingly. “Always.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you to bed, we can talk in the morning about how we can make this up to you.”

“Play a practice round with me?” I asked as my father once again lifted me into his arms. “Go to the pool the three of us?”

“If that’s what you want, sure. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Valentino promised with a glance at the other two. 

“Tomorrow we are all yours,” Velvette added.

“Totally yours,” Vox chimed in. “Goodnight, reader.” 

I fell asleep the moment my father tucked me under the covers. Tomorrow, tomorrow we would have a family day.

[budd-ie]

The number one most endearing thing to me about tgcf is the way the flashbacks make me feel like I’m watching Hong-er grow up. I feel like I’m watching a montage of that trembling little kid gather every ounce of courage and strength the world has to offer and slowly learn how to become somebody he can be content with. Somebody who has likes and dislikes, desires and preferences, and especially the freedom of choice, the freedom of anything, really. So now when I see Hua Cheng, legendary ghost king Crimson Rain Sought Flower, all I can see is that little kid who grew up. And that kid was always loved by the one he wanted to catch up to most in the world. He achieved exactly what he wanted and he deserves every ounce of power he’s acquired.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[alphajocklover]

Hey 😈 I wish someone would help me become a massive gay bodybuilding whore. I’m already on my way gaining weight, but I wanna be gigantic. Think you could help?

So you want to become, in your own words, a massive gay bodybuilding whore. That shouldn’t be too hard. As I’ve already shown you through my other post, there are numerous ways that people can get transformed into different types of jocks. The fact you want to specifically be a slutty gay jock does complicate things a little, since certain methods would turn you straight, but it’s still pretty simple. Instajock comes to mind as a good method for example, although I’ve talked about that app quite a bit recently and would rather discuss something new. There are many ways people can transform that I haven’t mentioned in the slightest, and your question actually brings up one I’ve been wanting to talk about for a long time. Mainly the emoji you used. Yep, for this transformation we’re going to get some help from someone very special: the Devil.

When I say the devil, I don’t really mean ‘The Devil’. Don’t get me wrong, he is a devil, but he’s not the devil from the bible. He just… works for him. I know that sounds bad, and honestly it definitely is. I don’t know much about the religious side of the magical world, but I do know that the Devil, with a capital D, does exist. He might be a fallen angel who wants to turn humanity to sin like from religious text, or he might just be a very powerful magical being using human religion to boost his own reputation, but either way he definitely exists. And just like in the old folk stories, he makes deals with people in exchange for their souls. Strangely, as the stories had spread and grown more prevalent, the demand for a deal with the Devil has actually skyrocketed. You’d think a bunch of stories about how making a deal for your soul is a bad idea would discourage people, but surprisingly it’s only increased business. Because of that the Devil’s operation has grown. The Devil is powerful, but he’s not god, he isn’t omniscient. So, to keep up with demand, he began to delegate. Instead of doing one deal at a time and seeing to every deal personally, he has a large team of demons that make deals for him. That's where my friend Nick comes in.

Nick isn’t his real name, but since humans can’t really pronounce his name he just lets me call him Nick. He is one of the more powerful demons working for the Devil, and specializes in making sexually explicit deals. As you can probably guess, he deals with a lot of people and has made a lot of deals. He’s not as outright evil as you might expect though, and he was actually a close friend of my Uncle. He had a sort of soft spot for my Uncle, and would often help him out with certain things. I don’t know how they met or why my Uncle seemed to be friends with a literal demon, but they got along really well. Now that my Uncle’s gone though, he helps me instead. I think he does it a bit out of guilt. He couldn’t protect my Uncle, his favorite mortal, from being turned into a jock, so now he protects me. Because of this I like to send him a willing victim now and then, as a thank you.

So, your first instinct is probably to say no. I mean, as much as you want to be a gay jock slut, you probably don’t want to sell your soul and be doomed to an eternity in hell. The thing is, these days they usually don’t ask for your soul. The Devil long figured out that there were more subtle ways to get what he wanted, so usually the contracts ask for something else. Sometimes it’s something significant, sometimes it’s almost nothing. Whatever it is usually works into his very complicated plans somehow in a way we almost can’t comprehend, but he never asks for your soul anymore. In exchange for becoming a massive gay bodybuilder jock, all Nick would require is… your car.

Yes, the devil wants your car. You’re probably wondering why, and honestly I don’t know. It’s not even a new car, and it’s kind of lame. But that's what he wants, and in exchange he’ll give you the body and mind of your dreams. I know you’re probably pretty skeptical, and If I’m being honest there probably is some sort of catch, but-

Oh! Ok, so, you’re doing it. I was expecting a bit more resistance but you seem pretty sure. Well, I do hope it works out for you. All you have to do is write your name on the contract and the deal will be sealed. Just write your name at the bottom there… and perfect! You’ve just made a deal with a devil!

I know you feel a little confused, but give it a second, it will pass. A sudden change in your body is always disorienting, but you’ll get used to the new you pretty quickly. I mean, look at you! You’re absolutely massive! Those arms, those pecs, those shoulders! God you really got a great deal. You get to live out your fantasy life, and all you had to do was get rid of a piece of shit car. I can’t be sure why he wanted it, but my best guess was that it’s going to cause a butterfly effect where, because your car didn’t cause a traffic jam when it broke down or something, something else will never happen. But there isn’t any use in dwelling on it anymore. You’ve made the deal, so fucking enjoy it! Go out there and have hot gay sex with as many guys as you can! You made a deal with the devil, you might as well get all you can out of it!

**hey everyone! Been a little bit! I’ve been kind of distracted and busy lately but I’m still alive and kicking! Hope you guys like this story and keep tuned for more! I also wanna make clear I am not trying to offend any religious group. I just love the deal with the devil idea.**

[fanatical4creation]

INVERTED!Poppy!!!

Finally made her up, I was just putting it off and putting off designing her but then I took my pen, my new laptop and drew it, now look at her!!!

Alright let's start shall we?

Design:

"OMG FANATICAL WHY DOES POPPY LOOKS LIKE A FRISK-" Shhhhh, you need to calm down, i'll explain everything;

Alright, bare with me: The original Poppy mentions in an animation, that she's talking to her therapist, that people usually thinks she's a Chara, but she's none! And I think, I theorize, I suppose that the reason why she looks like a Chara is bc an Frisk was drawing her (you know her lore?), so supposing that the whole concept of Invertedverse is that the original universe Underswap, that Frisk who drew her is an Chara, so if the Frisk drew a Chara in the original, here the Frisk that is now a Chara would draw a Frisk....... so, that's the logic here.;

Even though Poppy is still not a Frisk nor a Chara, but I don't think I translated that into her design, maybe I'll redo it sometime.

Her clothings are intriguing. It's her original teenage/adult clothings but with some green and a purple cloak or cape, whatever that is. This cloak represents her importance inside OmegaTimeline, that reminds me;

View from back Ω:

Made it with wind because it's cool, plus, her silhouette is cool too

Story:

Core was the "ruler" of Omega Timeline, everyone would look for them when there was a problem and needed help, everybody trusted them, but they put Poppy on their place... Core is a very mischievous character, no one really knows why they put Poppy in charge.

Omega citizens theorize that the reason is because Core was lazy, or that they didn't like the attention, or maybe they wanted to focus fully on recruting people, even thought after Poppy got in charge Core was rarely seen interacting with people and also the numbers of new survivors to get to the OT decreased.

Poppy tries her best to help remain peace within Omega Timeline, even if it requires all of her energies, thought she could really use some help, she thinks that the reason why her parent is more absent while she was in charge was because they knew she could everything alone, and that she should do it.

She doesn't have many friends, and the old ones got far away because she's too busy working signing papers, solving problems, financing projects, etc, etc.

Character:

She suffers. That's the truth, she just needs a vacation and a hug from her girlfriend.

She doesn't like parties... just thought it was important to mention.

Poppy doesn't like her parent, almost hates them even, they seem so irresponsible, imature and a coward, after just letting their daughter in charge of a (practically) country in surprise, it's expected for her to feel that way

Poppy has to be the clueless character in the whole Invertedverse, the reason is that she's so busy at work, or too busy being tired, and she usually gets information on what's going on from Core, but Core have been very silent lately, wonder why...

She has the hobby of playing board games, dancing and origamis!

She likes to cook more for others than herself

Sometimes she would visit the Madame T's orphanage, mainly to see Cadence and her friends, but also to donate and all of that things famous ppl do in orphanages idk.

Even thought she does a lot of hard work sometimes she'd take credit over someone elses work unintentionally, i mean, she's kind of the president.

She can't lie, like literally, maybe it's just her morals, or maybe it's a supernatural force idk.

She also keeps taping her fingers in hard surfaces all the time, I think it's anxiety.

Oh yeah, her full name is still Poppy Marusina, but she can also be called Iris Marusina, or maybe I'll change that to her original name, idk

Poppy (c) fmsdraws

[songsofadelaide]

refulgence — a companion piece to radiant point.

A montage of your favourite childhood memories plays in your head. Somehow you've forgotten all about how tired you were, and only the sound of your platoon members' laughter could be heard in the background.

Suddenly, you're five, and Soshiro just placed a wooden sword in your hand. You declared yourself his rival, but do rivals really get this excited to see each other again? Aren't they supposed to loathe each other while pushing each other to the very ends of their limits? (Honestly, how could you even loathe that adorable face of his?)

You're eleven this time, beaten to the ground right next to Soshiro while his older brother playfully berated you both for being little weaklings. Soichiro blew a raspberry in your direction, only for his head to hit your shinai with a small thunk.

"One all!" You screamed in complete delight as the younger brother rolled on the ground laughing with tears in his eyes.

Fifteen— you blinked your eyes, light and haze all over— And it's Soshiro handing you a copy of the curriculum for the Neutralization College he planned on attending. You both just started high school and college isn't even until three years.

"D'you want me to talk to your old man?" He asked you with a look of concern, but you shook your head at him. "C'mon, name yer price just for that pretty smile of yours and I'll get it!"

When you were eighteen, you cried your whole flight to France because Soshiro didn't see you off. You scolded yourself for being selfish— Come on, he can't put off everything for you, you thought to yourself. When you messaged him first thing after arriving, you didn't expect him to reply to you immediately. [ 😂😂😂 Glad you made it there in one piece! ] [ Miss you already, princess. ] [ Be good there. ]

You punched a guy in the face when you were twenty. "Ne me touche pas, connard!" And you would have buried your fist in his hollowed cheek again if not for your clubmates pulling you aside. "You don't get to call me your rival when you're hardly at my level! I only have one rival and he's waiting for me back home in Japan!"

Though Soshiro was hardly a rival at that time of your life. On your desk at your lodging was a letter asking him to ask for your hand in marriage but you'll subsequently die of joy afterward if he does. He was everything to you— your very first friend, your rival, your first heartache, your very first love—

"Oh, my gosh. Our Platoon Leader is crying! N-No, wait— I-Is she smiling?"

"Are you blind? She's obviously smiling while crying."

"That's what I just said!"

Somehow the voices in your head were getting realistically louder and your narrowed vision only showed several of your young officers fussing over you now that you're evidently drunk beyond sense.

Man, what a shining example I am to the rookies...

Now, you felt someone pry away your beer glass from your hand. There was a certain tenderness and familiarity to their touch, but all you could respond with was a low grumble of protest. "I'm fine...!"

"Yer obviously not fine. Come on, let's not make your team worry—"

Where were you this time? Was this some kind of memory again? Or perhaps a glimpse of something that had yet to happen? This can't be real, either. Your team members extended an invitation to the Vice Captain, but he said he was going to be busy tonight.

So who was this person who looked exactly like your Vice Captain— your silly little first love— trying to ease the half-empty beer glass from your hold?

"Soshiro? Ah, who am I kidding? You said you were busy, so... I'm probably just dreaming this up," you said with surprising clarity that seemed to shock everyone at your table. "You weren't there to see me off when I went to France! I'm still so sad about it!..."

The hand on your back started rubbing gentle circles that seemed to make you cry even more. "I'm sorry about that. Fer what it's worth, I did try to see ya off back then. I was just a li'l late is all..."

Your team members couldn't believe that their Vice Captain was there in the flesh now, an index finger raised to his lips as he still tried to coax the beer glass out of your hands. "I finished my reports early, so here I am. I forgot ta mention that she gets all weepy when she's had one too many drinks."

Your table fell so silent that you could hear a pin drop to the floor, and all they could hear apart from the izakaya's muted music was your soft sobs of relief and grief— relief that your officers were doing their best to get to your standard, and grief for tragedies that have yet to come. Tragedies you wish would never come. "My adorable little officers are doing so, so well, are they not? They have to keep up their good work b-because I don't want any of them to... to die!..."

"'Course they're doing great. You're an excellent Platoon Leader yourself!"

"Soshirooo..."

With your head lowered to the table, you cried and sobbed and hiccupped until you were eventually out of your wits and fast asleep.

"Out like a light. Now, don't stop on my account! I'll be here 'til you guys wrap up," Soshiro stated with his usual cheer as he raised your empty beer glass for a refill.

"W-We're glad to have you here, Vice Captain, sir!"

Even though he said they could carry on with their drinking, the excitement of the evening died out as soon as they heard their Platoon Leader crying over them even though they were still alive and breathing and celebrating.

"We didn't expect our Platoon Leader to be so... sentimental," said one of your newer members as they took a rather small sip from their glass. They all had the same strange and expectant looks on their faces as they eyed the older man and his uncharacteristically gentle nature when it came to you.

"Naw, she's always been like that. Ever since we were kids," the Vice Captain said as he received a full glass of beer from one of the servers. "I suppose you're all wonderin' why we're so close in the first place. Now you know!"

"The Platoon Leader and Vice Captain are childhood friends?!"

A small sigh of relief left your lips as you felt a cool hand gently brush away the hair stuck your forehead. The touch was subtle but tender and left a faint scent that reminded you so much of your first love.

It came to light that one of your platoon members had fencing experience, so what better way to have a test of skill than to duke it out with your sabres? A duel was declared, and when you returned to your quarters to retrieve your carrying case, you found one of the pockets neatly zipped closed.

Hey, wait a sec.

That specific pocket had something in it, but now it was empty. Your old letters to Soshiro were missing.

???

And it puzzled you because no one else has ever been to your room. No one but—

...

A knock on his office door prompted Soshiro to look up from the documents on his desk. "Come in."

His usual cheerful expression turned up even more when you entered the room all flushed and breathless. Regardless of your evident exhaustion, you maintained decorum and gave him a sharp salute.

"Vice Captain, sir!"

"Anything I can help you with, Platoon Leader?"

"Sir, you have something... No, I believe you took something from my... room after the, uh..."

So you already knew. Soshiro wanted to read them a little bit longer because they explained so much to him, especially why you stopped writing to him. The unsent letters were surprisingly honest and voiced the very depths of your feelings for him. Feelings that you promised your Captain would not get in the way of your work.

He chuckled at how flustered you were. "Use your words, Platoon Leader. I can hardly understand a thing yer sayin'."

"Y-You took my letters! The ones I—"

"You mean the letters addressed to me? The ones you weren't able to send because of how candid they were?"

"Y-Yes! Those letters are—!"

Soshiro could only shrug in his seat. "All right, you got me. I couldn't help myself. How was I not supposed to read those when they had my name on them?"

"I... uh..."

"C'mere," he motioned for you to approach him. "It's just the two of us here, so don't worry."

You made your approach, but he gestured for you to come even closer to him. When you were finally standing right before him, he took your hands in his and gently tugged you into his arms. A bold move, too, considering someone can walk right into his office and once again find you both in a compromising position. He hardly paid mind to that possibility, though, by the way he comfortably nuzzled and buried his face into your chest.

"V—"

"It's just us," he murmured against your chest, but you were far too embarrassed and self-conscious at how rapidly your heart must be beating this time.

"Y'know how I'd devour every single thing that had words on it, yeah? But your letters always made me the happiest," he continued. "You can always write to me even though we're just here. Just like this. If there's anythin' ya can't say to my face or whatnot... You can always write to me."

Soshiro looked as pleased as a cat with a treat when you raised your hand to caress the hair just above his nape, a smile pulling at your lips as you saw just how contented he was holding you in his arms. "All right, Soshiro. I think I will."

Your platoon members knew better than to cross your path when you were paged to the Command Centre to receive a call from the Sixth Division Captain. The drills you were holding forcibly ground to a halt as you tempered both your visage and your disposition, because of all the people, he had to be the one to call.

You took a deep breath as you held the receiver in your ear, greeting him with the same kind of snappiness you'd have for any superior. "Hello, Captain, sir!"

[ "You do know that there's no need to be so formal with me. We're friends, aren't we?" ]

"I could hardly call you a friend, Soichiro-san," you scoffed at the phone, closely followed by a soft chuckle. You decided it was safe to drop his honorific for now. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

[ "I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement. I'm only glad to know that you're officially Soshiro's headache now." ]

You rolled your eyes at the older man's remark, feeling extremely lucky that he couldn't see all the faces you were pulling. "Oh, please, you exaggerate! I've always been a good girl to you and your family. Just admit that you couldn't handle my growth and the fact that you would have a wife your equal in strength and skill."

Soichiro laughed from the other end of the phone. [ "No one wants a brat for a wife. That's why you and Soshiro make a good match. You're both equally incredibly bratty and stubborn. I still remember that time he challenged me for you. He put up a fight, that one. I knew he'd bother me to no end unless he won with his own strength." ]

Huh. You didn't know that.

[ "Soshiro said that if I didn't want ya, he'd gladly take you off my hands. Too bad you pulled that stunt with our old man, though! Tellin' him and everyone else that you didn't want to marry me." ]

"That's still true, you know. I could afford to be a fool for lesser things back then. Now is different."

There was a pause from the other end of the phone, followed by another chuckle from Soichiro. [ "You like him that much, huh?" ]

"I like Soshiro more than you can ever imagine. My family knew I didn't like you, Soichiro-san. But considering everything, I was smart not to ask for your brother back then," you replied with a smile. "I was a beggar princess, after all. My family owed yours, so who was I to make any demands?"

[ "Ya didn't know any better back then, so cut yourself some slack. Though if you did ask... I'm sure you'd both be beggin'. He likes ya that much, too." ]

You knew that. You knew that Soshiro loved you to the point of humbling himself to your family, the very people who owed something to his own.

[ "Well, that's all I have to say to ya. I'm hangin' up. Knowin' Soshiro, he'd get all green with envy when he finds out I called you," ] He said. [ "Tell me if you want anythin' from Kobe and I'll send it to ya pronto. Consider it a gift from me." ]

"Thanks, Soichiro-san. For the record, you're an awful brother. But you're a pretty great brother-in-law," you replied to him. "I'll let you know if I ever do want something."

But you knew better than to take up his offer. Soshiro would sooner head to Kobe himself to get you something you want rather than have you receive something from his older brother.

"To Hoshina Soshiro-副隊長,

Please be more mindful when you refer to me as 'wifey' while we're here at base. You nearly gave my team members a heart attack when you let it slip while they were training! While it's true that I don't mind a simple ceremony, please don't give my members any crazy ideas because they will plan something, and they're already a handful as they are now."

For the record, I like how it sounds. It just gets everyone worked up, though! They're all so happy for me we can hardly train properly!

I'll see you at dinner, but please refer to me by my rank and name! You're incredibly lucky Captain Ashiro gives you a free pass! But remember that we're at work. You'll have all the time in the world to call me 'wifey' in the future, for as long as we're fighting for it.

I love you always, my hard worker. ♡ Let's continue our good work! Not that you even need me to tell you that lol."

✧ x