#to like. build a whole set and all of that like it's just a solid black background with sims posed in front of it it's really nothing crazy

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 18

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

AO3

Summary: As the war comes to a close, the future is brought into focus.

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @blakelysco-pilot

Dear Mrs Higgins

Thank you so much for the tea set - Robert and I think it's lovely...

Frankie lifted an envelope to her mouth, running her tongue along the glue as she finished writing the latest in a long line of thank-you letters still in order from the wedding. The formal niceties felt foreign to her, even to write, and a pile of crumpled paper covered the floor by her bed where she had tossed away a litany of spelling mistakes. Rosie had offered his assistance many times, but with all the supply drops he'd been running, she had no desire to burden him with anything else.

Just as she finished signing the most recent letter, the door to the hut slammed open, making her jump and accidentally smudge the ink. "Oh, for fuck's sake, do you have to barge in here like the building's on bloody fire?"

"Frankie, turn the radio on," George huffed, striding towards her.

"Yeah, in a minute - I've got to rewrite this one now, so-"

"Now," She pressed, getting down on her knees to rummage beneath Frankie's bed. "Where is it?!"

"Over there on the window ledge," Frankie frowned, watching as George zipped across the room. "What's going on?"

"Churchill's making an announcement."

"Oh, shit-" She muttered, letter writing immediately forgotten as they fumbled to set up the radio, perched side by side on the edge of the bed as they listened closely. They had made it just in time, and as the familiar, slurring voice came echoing over the waves, a sense of importance seemed to settle over the room - one so potent that Frankie's whole body seemed clenched, her heart struggling to beat out its rhythm in time.

"Yesterday morning at 2.41am at General Eisenhower's headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the German high command and of Grand Admiral Donitz, the designated head of the German state, signed the act of unconditional surrender of all German land, sea and air forces in Europe to the Allied expeditionary force, and simultaneously to the Soviet high command."

She felt George grab her hand. The words didn't quite seem real - how could they? Surely, they had been coming for a long time, and yet their arrival seemed so sudden, that it was as if Frankie were recalling a dream - peering through a veil into a fiction constructed by her subconscious, frozen in place as if any sudden movement might break the illusion.

She pressed her heels harder into the floor beneath her feet. It was solid. Real.

"Our dear Channel Islands will be free tomorrow. Hostilities will end officially ​at one minute after midnight tonight, Tuesday, the 8th of May, but in the interests of saving lives the ceasefire began yesterday to be sounded all along the fronts."

A bark of laughter escaped her, hand rising to clap over her mouth, suddenly embarrassed by the outburst despite being in the privacy of the hut, in the company of no one but her best friend. Beside her, George had begun to chuckle giddily, unable to wipe the grin from her cheeks.

"The German war is therefore at an end. After years of intense preparation Germany hurled herself on Poland at the beginning of September, 1939, and in pursuance of our guarantee to Poland and in common action with the French Republic, Great Britain, the British Empire and Commonwealth of Nations declared war against this foul aggression."

Blood rushed to her ears, the pounding in Frankie's chest so fierce that she almost struggled to hear the broadcast. Her lungs felt full to burst, pressing against her ribs so hard they could snap. Neither woman felt any need to listen further before collapsing into each other's arms, squeezing so forcefully that it hurt. But they didn't care.

There was no one else Frankie wanted to spend this moment with. Not Bucky, not Ken - not even her husband. There was no one she'd spent more of this war alongside than George - no one who had seen her at so many of her worst moments, no one who had brought her through them quite like she had.

This was the first instant they'd ever spent as friends during peacetime. And now they had to decide what that meant.

"I'm coming with you," George's voice came hoarse over her shoulder. "If you're going to New York, then so am I."

"What about Ev?" Frankie chuckled.

She felt her shrug. "He'll come if I tell him to."

Grinning, she held her even tighter. Weren't they all just following Rosie in the end?

"I need to find him," Frankie uttered.

George nodded. "Me too. Different him. Same sentiment."

They didn't let go for a long moment, breathing in synch. Maybe the war had brought them together, but peace was never going to tear them apart.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

An almighty swarm of airmen had gathered outside one of the huts by the time Frankie arrived, having jogged all the way from her own, and the moment she locked eyes on Rosie she was running. Even in the thick of the crowd, his gaze found her without even having to call out, shouldering his way through, beaming so widely that the cool air stung against his teeth. She let out something between a shriek and a whoop, hurling herself into his arms the moment they collided, feet swept off the ground as he spun her once, then twice in the air.

Neither needed to say the words 'it's over' - they knew the other knew, that was good enough. Besides, those words held far too much weight to deal with right now. Those words meant their time here was over - that the future was now.

As Frankie touched the ground again, Rosie's hands cupped her cheeks, littering her face with kisses as she guffawed with laughter. A few of the airmen nearby had taken to whooping and whistling at the sight, and she felt the blood rush to her face, tinting her cheeks a bright red. "Alright, alright," She chuckled, gently batting away his hands as she leaned forward to press a quick peck to his lips.

"Sorry fellas," Rosie called over his shoulder, gaze never leaving his wife for even a moment as he seized her hand, abandoning the makeshift celebration without hesitation.

"We didn't have to go," Frankie pointed out as they walked away, bumping against his side as her free hand wrapped around his arm.

"Well, I wanna celebrate with my wife."

"Oh-ho, say that again," She tittered.

"My wife," He grinned, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. "And when we get outta here I'm gonna buy you a house - hell, I'll buy you anything you want."

"Well, yeah, I'd hope so - we both know I married you for the money," Frankie teased as he ruffled her hair beneath his palm in silent reprisal. They were quiet for a moment until she spoke up again, serious this time. "Dad and the kids don't need me anymore. But... I really loved looking after those kids."

She could feel his stare, fixed on her as they walked. "You been thinking about what you said at the wedding?"

"About a baby? ...Yeah, kinda."

Nerves coloured his voice as he spoke again. "...And?"

Frankie shrugged. "Why not? Yeah."

It hadn't seemed possible that he could grin even wider, and yet somehow he managed it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," She assured him, pulling him into her embrace as his eyes began to well up with tears. Chin tucked over his shoulder, she let herself begin to grin too. "Yeah, honey."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

George's hair blew this way and that as she walked, palms in an endless battle against the wind to smooth it back down again as she muttered to herself, scanning every group she passed for the face she was searching for. Come on Ev, where are you? Many of the men she worked alongside called out to her as she passed, but she was so focused on the task at hand that she offered nothing but the occasional wave, too distracted to properly reply.

"George!" A familiar voice called, an involuntary smile already creeping across her expression in anticipation before she had even pinned down where it was coming from. But then Blakely was hurrying towards her, engulfing her in an embrace so sudden that it was all she could do not to audibly groan. "Ah, I was lookin' for you."

"Hey!" George chirped, holding him tightly. "I was looking for you! I've got something to ask you."

He seemed to grow slightly tense at this. "Yeah, so do I."

Holding onto her cheery demeanour despite the shift in his, she pulled away. "Okay, you first."

Letting out a nervous chuckle, Everett shook his head. "No, no - after you."

"Okay... Look, it's just..." George took a deep breath, hands clasped tightly. "Frankie and Rosie are gonna go to New York together now that this whole thing is done, and I... I wanna go with her, Ev. She's my best friend."

A wave of relief seemed to wash over him as he began to smile. "You wanna go to New York?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

Blakely began to laugh. "Babe, we can go to New York."

A grin started to crease at George's cheeks. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course," He beamed.

"Okay. Okay, yeah - now you go," She nodded, passing her weight impatiently from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was nervous again, glancing around at the huts and men around them as if self-conscious. "Alright..."

Her brow furrowed. "... You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... didn't really plan on doing this here."

George's frown deepened, and Everett couldn't help but wonder how she hadn't caught on yet. "D'you wanna... go over there?"

"George," He laughed in exasperation, digging deep into his pocket as he shook his head. The faintest yelp of surprise escaped her as the diamond ring caught its first glint of sunlight, carefully unwrapped from the handkerchief that had protected it on the long journey from his mother's house.

"Oh, I'm a bloody idiot," She whispered. Raising both hands to cover her mouth, she let out a giddy laugh, beaming before he could even ask the question.

Blakely had begun to grin, pointing down at the ring in his palm as he waited for her to stand still. "Can I-?"

"Yes! Yes." George nodded firmly, planting both feet in the gravel below as she waited for him to ask the question.

"George Aarons," He started, suppressing a chuckle as he noticed the way she had begun to fidget impatiently. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" She cried, her answer tumbling forth so quickly that she almost cut him off completely, throwing herself into his arms as an elated laugh erupted from her throat. Arms wrapped securely around her back, he swept her off her feet for a moment before pulling away to plant a hard kiss against her lips, palms lifted to cup her jaw.

"I love you," George breathed as their lips separated, faces barely an inch apart.

Everett smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you too."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie practically screamed when she first caught sight of George, entering the party as it raged in the officers' club, new engagement ring sparkling on her finger. "Holy shit!" She yelped, practically hurling herself at her best friend as she hugged her. Chin tucked tightly in the crook of George's neck, she scanned the crowd for signs of Blakely, pointing a finger as he stopped in his tracks. "You!"

"Me?"

"Thank you for marrying the love of my life," Frankie nodded sagely, gesturing for him to come close so that she could pat him on the shoulder without leaving George.

His brow furrowed slightly. "... So Rosie would be-?"

"My husband. Duh."

"Of course."

Rosie had recognised her yelp from across the bar, burrowing his way through the crowds in search of Frankie. "Ah. Hey! Congratulations!" He grinned as he spied George's ring, giving Blakely an affectionate clap over the shoulder as they shook hands. "Mind if I steal my wife for this next dance?"

"Steal away," Frankie nodded, planting a forceful kiss on George's forehead as she retracted the hug, leaving a lipstick stain in her wake. As the couple weaved their way back through the crowd, Blakely let out a snort of laughter, wiping the stain away with the heel of his palm.

"Is she-?"

"Oh, really quite drunk, yeah," George affirmed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I never got good at this, huh?" Frankie laughed, uttering a swift apology as she stepped on Rosie's toe. Again.

"Well, I don't think being good is really the point," He shrugged.

"In other words, you agree - I'm horrible at this."

"I didn't say that!"

Frankie gasped. "You're 'yes-dear'-ing me!"

Rosie's brow furrowed, somewhere between confused and entertained. "I don't even know what that means."

"It's when you just go along with whatever I say because I'm your wife and you don't want to have to tell me I'm an insane person to my face."

"Well, I like my crazy wife," He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as she hummed a chuckle. They continued to step side to side as the music continued its brisk pace, Frankie's expression twisting with embarrassment as she felt his toe beneath her foot once more, the sight of this making Rosie laugh. "We don't have to keep doing this," He offered between chortles.

"No, I'm gonna do it until I get it right, otherwise I'll get shown up every time we go out," She frowned.

"Then you've gotta do it properly," Rosie said, looking down at the floor as he nudged her feet apart with his own. "Feet like that - you step with this one, then bring them together..."

As he continued to explain, Frankie began to realise that she hadn't been listening to a word, too distracted by... well, him. It was still somewhat embarrassing to admit, but if she stared at him for too long everything else seemed to simply ebb away, his voice fading into background chitter as her gaze traced every subtle movement in his expression, her lip rising in a calm, gentle smile.

For so long, this place had gotten used to firing on all cylinders - always working, always preparing for the next thing - never hesitating, never still. But now? Now there was nothing ahead of her - no planes to prep, no mission to agonise over. She was Just Frankie and he was Just Rosie, and everything else was simply cast aside. It was rare she ever got a moment to simply stop and stare - to take in the man before her and simply bathe in the feeling of how wholly and utterly she adored him.

"No, you've- ...Honey, you've stopped moving."

His voice came into focus once more, and Frankie blinked away her stupor, shaking her head slightly. "... Right."

"You okay?" He asked, brow creasing as he tilted his head slightly, a loose curl tumbling free.

"Mhm," She nodded, reaching up without a second thought to brush it away, her warm fingertips still managing to leave a flush in their wake as they grazed against his skin. "Tired. Little too much whiskey. I'm still working my way through the thank-you letters from the wedding."

"Well, I'll help," Rosie shrugged.

"No, no, you're-" Busy with your missions. The words had nearly slipped out without a second thought. And as a grin began to make its way across his face, she knew he'd predicted them.

"No. I'm not."

"No you're not," Frankie repeated, beginning to mirror his smile. "God, we're about to have way too much free time."

"Well, I can think of a couple things to do," He smirked, making her snort with laughter.

"Shush. We'll do that later. I gotta find Bucky," She beamed, giving his arm a tug as she pulled out of his grip, squeezing his hand as she turned away.

Rosie's brow furrowed. "I thought we were dancing?"

"Later!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Flares illuminated the night sky as Bucky sat back in his seat, watching on idly from his perch up on the command tower. Back when this had all started, he would've been inside with the others without a moment's hesitation, drinking and singing and making merry like all the rest. But these last two years had changed him, and that tug in his chest that had once compelled him on nights like this had gone limp.

At least one thing had always stayed the same.

"You fellas need some more booze up there?"

His lip curled in an involuntary smile, craning forward in his seat to peer over the railing. Standing in the grass below, profile brightened in the flickering light of the flares, Frankie stared up at him, a bottle in each hand.

"Get up here, Bevan!" Gale called beside him, letting out that deep, hearty laugh of his. She flashed a grin, the thunder of footsteps rising towards them as she dashed up the stairs, occasionally stumbling from an overindulgence of alcohol.

"Figured you'd be all over your husband tonight, all things considered," Bucky teased, edging over to the edge of his seat so that she could perch beside him.

"He gets me every other day. You and me gotta catch up on lost time."

He smiled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she popped the cork on the champagne she had stolen, letting out a yelp as bubbles flowed over the brim, covering her hands.

"Before we make any more of a mess, I'm gonna see if I can't find us some glasses," Gale chuckled, stepping around the small puddle of champagne that was forming as he made his way to the door. "You can have my seat, Frank."

"Thanks," She uttered, squeezing Bucky's hand with hers and leaving a sticky palm print behind as she slid off the edge of his chair, sinking into the other.

Left alone, the pair sank into quiet for a long moment, listening peacefully to the cheers and music that hummed steadily from further down the runway.

"How's it feel?" He asked after a while.

Frankie let out a huff of amusement. "Completely, utterly bizarre. I mean... everything in my life changed because of this war, and now it's just... over."

"Which is a good thing. Right?"

"Oh, of course, yunno... I lost family to this thing. Almost all the boys I grew up with are dead now. But then, almost all the best people in my life, I only met because of this war. Hell, I'm married now - I can't just go back to how it was before."

Bucky let out a long sigh, nodding along as she spoke. He stared at the floor for a while, before finally speaking up.

"Y'know... It's gonna sound stupid, but for a little while back then, at the beginning, I kinda thought you and me..."

"Yeah, I know," She nodded, a beat passing before she reached across to grab his hand, holding it in her lap.

They were silent for a moment, letting the weight of Bucky's confession rest between them.

"Your hands are really sticky."

"They are covered in champagne," Frankie snorted, letting out a cackle as Bucky wrestled his hand from her grip, wiping it clean against her skirt. "Oh, you bastard."

"That's what you get."

As their laughter trailed to a stop, she found herself sobering, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me you're not gonna be alone after this. Promise you'll call and visit and find a nice girl to marry, and you won't let yourself go home to an empty house forever."

A flicker of something like adoration crossed his expression.

"Promise."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Gravel crunched beneath Frankie's feet as she finally returned to her hut, the energy that had carried her through the night steadily dwindling. Scrunching her eyes shut as she yawned, a frown began to crease her cheek as her vision readjusted, noticing the door to the hut as it gaped open, exposing the interior to the darkness.

Creeping up towards the entrance, brow furrowed, she tapped her knuckles gently against the doorframe, peering inside. There was only one light in the whole place, and in the warm glow, she could make out a familiar silhouette.

"... Honey?"

Rosie looked up from his spot on the edge of her bed, pen clasped between his fingers as he began to smile at her. "Hey, baby."

She let out a bemused chuckle, stepping inside. "... What're you doing?"

Shrugging, he raised one of the thank-you letters she'd been working on. "You said you needed help with 'em."

Frankie sighed, beaming as she came to stand in front of him. "I didn't mean right now. You should be at the party."

"Party got boring."

"It didn't sound boring."

"You weren't there."

The admission was so earnest that she swore something inside her melted, lifting both hands to loop around the back of his neck. Casting the cards aside, he stared up at her, arms draped around her waist.

"Now I am."

She pressed a long kiss to his scalp, cradling his head in her palms. Rosie let out a satisfied sigh, his thumb rubbing circles against her hip.

"Let's get outta here," He said.

Frankie's brow arched in amusement. "And go where?"

There was a glint in his eye. "Get us a room at the pub?"

"It'll be full by now."

"Well... I did call ahead."

She gasped teasingly. "Oh, you're good."

Rising to stand, he tugged one of her hands away from his neck, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. He had that look in his eyes, the kind that made her cackle and go terribly red all at once.

"You have no idea."

[libraford]

Park Cleanup Pet Peeves

I'll be starting my seasonal gig at Parks and Rec in a couple months and I've got a couple things I wanna say. I know that this will probably not reach the people who need to hear it, but if ONE LESS person leaves the parks a mess, I will be That Much Happier.

-You're not supposed to smoke, drink, or have sex in public parks but I know that people will anyway. But if you are going to do those things, please dispose of the evidence in the trash cans. A human has to pick these things up.

-Dog poop goes in a bag. Bag goes in the trash can.

-The little wax paper liners in the women's room? See you're supposed to put your pad/tampon in that wax paper bag, take the bag out of the bin, and then dispose of it in the actual trash can. Don't feel bad, no one told me either. Also no one told the dudes I work with. But this reduces direct exposure to bodily fluids, especially as the summer gets on and it gets hot in those bathrooms.

-On that subject! The little bins that they go in next to the toilet? Don't stick trash in there. Don't put diapers in there. Also don't put beer cans crushed in such a specific way that I slice my hand on them as I try to jimmy it out of there. Literally, that bin is too small for most things. They are meant specifically for those brown bags. Please for the love of god, throw things in the trash can.

-As for the urinals, please no solids. Most commonly gum and chewed tobacco, but you can use your imagination.

-If you're doing a photo shoot or an event with confetti, please use a paper confetti instead of a plastic one- its easier to get rid of.

-If you're doing a pizza party, we'd rather you stack the pizza boxes in a pile next to the trash can instead of trying to fit them in the trash. Because then we can just throw the trash bag over the top and tie it instead of trying to fish it out. This kind of goes for any big trash- if it won't fit in the trash can easily, don't try.

-Please don't call cops on people sleeping in the parks if they're not bothering anyone. Even if they've been sleeping there all day. Dude's just trying to chill.

-Destruction of the toilets will result in the indefinite locking of the restrooms. You ruined them and now everyone at the softball tournament can blame you for it.

-Parks people are not the police. We are maintenance workers who are not trained to handle most emergencies and the most we can do in any situation is report to the proper department. Please don't look to us for answers if someone is starting a fight.

-Also please don't spit on us for driving on the path. We're permitted to. Its essential for us to drive on the path to do our job.

-please don't abandon animals at the park. Rehome them properly. I spent a whole week trying to catch a rooster last summer.

-look, I get it- 'oh no, your pretty building has writing on it!' Grafitti is so edgy. We get it. But it means Jacob has to sand it off now so that the kids at the birthday party don't see a giant drawing of a weiner. Acts of rebellion that create more work for the working class are not revolutionary.

-please do not set fire to the Tiny Free Library. Why did you do that? That's mean.

-please do not feed bread to ducks and geese. Corn, birdseed, lettuce- those are better for them. If you want to reduce tge amount of goose poop in the parks, shop feeding them bread.

-also do not anger tge geese. They remember what its like to be dinosaurs.

I'll have more later, probably, once the season wears on.

[pucksandpower]

Rockabye Baby

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: you and Oscar take the next step in building your family … just not in the way that anyone expected

Note: I really wanted to get something silly and cute posted for Mother’s Day — and so this was born! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🫶

You snuggle closer to Oscar in bed, resting your head on his chest as his fingers lazily trail up and down your arm. It’s been an exhausting few weeks on the road, with races back-to-back, but these quiet moments together make it all worth it.

“Osc?” You murmur sleepily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, babe.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything.”

You hesitate, not sure if you should broach the subject. But you’ve been together for years now, surely he’s thought about it too? “Have you ever, you know … thought about having kids?”

Oscar tenses slightly, his fingers stilling on your skin. “Kids?”

“Yeah.” You prop yourself up on one elbow to study his face. “We’re not getting any younger. And I know racing is your whole life, but … I don’t know, I think you’d make an amazing dad.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “You do, huh?” His fingers resume their gentle stroking along your arm. “I can’t lie, the idea terrifies me. All the responsibility, the pressure ...” He blows out a long breath. “But with you by my side? I think we could make it work.”

Hope blooms in your chest and you lean in to kiss him, long and lingering. “Really? You mean that?”

“Well, not right this second.” He chuckles, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “But someday? Definitely.”

You beam at him, buzzing with a childlike excitement you haven’t felt in years. “Oscar Piastri, future father. I can’t wait.”

He pulls you close, tucking you under his chin. “Me neither. Now get some rest, yeah? Big day tomorrow.”

You hum contentedly, letting his steady heartbeat lull you toward sleep. Kids with Oscar … you can’t imagine anything better.

A few days later, you’re curled up on the sofa after a long day of work, idly scrolling through your phone while Oscar pads around the flat. He’s been oddly restless and fidgety all evening, but you’ve learned not to question his little quirks. He’ll open up when he’s ready.

“So,” he begins, sinking onto the couch beside you with an adorably nervous expression. “You know how the other night you mentioned, um … wanting to be a mum someday?”

You perk up instantly, setting your phone aside as your pulse kicks up a notch. “Yeah?”

“Well.” He ducks his head shyly, then pulls something from behind his back — a small, smooth rock, painted in garish shades of papaya. “I got you this.”

You blink at him. “A … rock?”

“It’s our baby!” He thrusts it toward you proudly. “See, I’m the dad now. Taking those first steps.”

A startled laugh bubbles up from your chest. “Oscar, you dork. That’s the cutest, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Too much?” He grimaces, though his eyes are twinkling with barely contained mirth. “I just thought, you know, we could start small. Get used to the idea before, uh, before anything bigger.”

“Oh my god, I love you.” You take the rock from his hand, cradling it tenderly as you peck his cheek. “Hi there, little guy. Hope you don’t mind a slightly non-traditional family.”

“Not at all.” Oscar drapes his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side. “We’ll just raise him to be open-minded and accepting. Like his mum.”

“His mum who gave birth to him in pebble form, you mean?”

Oscar shrugs unapologetically. “He’ll be the talk of the playground.”

You dissolve into helpless giggles, nestling even closer. “This is certifiably insane, you know that? I can’t believe we’re grown adults playing house with a pet rock.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” Oscar nuzzles into the crook of your neck, warm and solid against you. “We’re new parents. We can do whatever we want.”

Over the next few days, Rocky, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, becomes a constant presence. You bring him along when you travel to the next race, introducing him proudly to the team. Lando takes one look and bursts out laughing.

“What the bloody hell is that thing?”

“Our son,” Oscar says with a straight face. “Would you like to meet your nephew?”

“You two are properly mental.” But there’s an unmistakable fondness in Lando’s smile as he gently pokes at Rocky. “S’pose he takes after his dad, eh?”

You crack up at the offended look on Oscar’s face. “Oh, trust me, I’ll be handling most of the heavy lifting around here.”

From there, it only escalates. Rocky gets his own tiny race suit, his own seat in Oscar’s car (firmly buckled in, of course — safety first). You find yourself referring to him with increasingly outlandish endearments.

“Here, let me get the handsomest stone in the whole wide world a bottle before we try tummy time.”

“How’s my little pebble today? Did you sleep okay in your bassinet?”

Logan nearly falls over laughing the first time he sees Rocky strapped into a miniature car seat on the plane between races.

“You guys are too much, man.” He shakes his head in bewildered amusement. “Where do you even find stuff like that?”

Oscar smirks. “Parents have their ways.”

The joke takes on a life of its own, morphing from a silly gag into a full-blown inside joke, an ever-present reminder that someday, when you’re both ready, you really will have a baby of your own to dote on. For now, though, raising Rocky together is more than enough.

It really hits you one evening as the team celebrates Oscar’s latest podium finish. You’re sitting with a small group, letting the lively chatter of friends and team members wash over you, when you become aware of Oscar sitting across from you. He’s got Rocky nestled in the crook of his elbow, cooing nonsense as he gently jostles him.

“Who’s a good little guy? You are, that’s who. Gonna grow up big and strong like your dad, yeah?” His expression is so tender, so achingly soft, that you feel your heart swell fit to burst.

He’s going to be an incredible father someday, you realize with a jolt of startling clarity. Look at how natural it comes to him, how happy and content he seems, just cradling that silly rock.

Later that night, you find yourself curled around Oscar in bed, trailing feather-light kisses along the line of his throat. He hums deep in his chest, tangling one hand in your hair to tug you closer.

“Mmm, what was that for?”

“Nothing.” You prop your chin on his chest, drinking in the achingly handsome lines of his face. “You just … you’re gonna be such an amazing dad, you know that?”

A bashful smile tugs at his lips as his free hand smooths along the curve of your hip. “Yeah? You really think so?”

“I know so.” You reach out to trace the sharp line of his jaw with one fingertip. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

Oscar’s gaze softens to molten gold in the dim light. “Not nearly as lucky as we are to have you. You’re the best mum Rocky could’ve asked for.”

He kisses you then, deep and searing, pulling you flush against him as the world around you falls away. And when he finally breaks away, breathless but beaming, you know without a shadow of a doubt:

Whenever the time comes, whenever you meet your real baby … everything is going to be okay. More than okay.

Because you’ll have Oscar by your side, just like always. Your partner, your best friend, and the love of your life.

***

Five Years Later

You cradle your newborn daughter to your chest, gazing down at her perfect little face in pure wonderment. It’s only been a few hours since she made her entrance into the world, but you’re already hopelessly in love.

“She’s beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, voice thick with unshed tears as he brushes one reverent fingertip along her downy cheek. “Just like her mum.”

You lean into him, overcome. This right here — the two of you and your brand new baby girl — is everything you’ve ever wanted. All those years of loving Oscar, of dreaming about starting a family together … it was all leading to this shining moment.

A soft knock at the door breaks the tranquil silence. Oscar shoots you a quizzical look as a familiar face pokes his head in.

“This a bad time?” Lando grins crookedly. “I come bearing gifts for the little one.”

“Lando!” You can’t help but beam at the sight of your friend. “Get in here, you muppet.”

He slips inside, toeing off his shoes with a cheeky wink in your direction. “Well someone’s in a good mood. Can’t imagine why.”

“Are you kidding? I’m amazing. Completely knackered, but amazing.” You gesture for him to come closer with your free hand. “Here, come meet Oscar’s little co-driver.”

Lando’s expression melts into something unbearably soft as he peers down at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Aww, mate … she’s perfect. Well done, you two.”

“Do you, uh ...” Oscar clears his throat gruffly. “D’you want to hold her?”

For a moment, Lando looks almost scared, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he nods jerkily, settling into the bedside chair with surprising care as you transfer your daughter into his arms. He cradles her close with the utmost tenderness, rocking her ever so slightly as she lets out the faintest sigh.

“Look at you,” he breathes, sounding utterly besotted already. “Just a teeny little thing, aren’t you?”

It’s like seeing an entirely different side of him, one you never could have anticipated. Not the cheeky, irreverent joker you’ve known for years, but a man, a friend, wholly disarmed by new life and possibility. You exchange a look with Oscar, heart fit to bursting.

“So,” Lando continues, still totally entranced by the baby. “I know we ribbed you mercilessly for a while there about the whole rock baby thing ...”

Your mouth falls open in recollection. “Lando, please don’t-”

But he’s already reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a familiar splash of textured papaya. “But there’s no way I’d let my favorite nephew miss out on this.”

Rocky, battered and faded but unmistakable, sits nestled in Lando’s palm. You nearly choke on a startled laugh.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Hold up, there’s more.” Lando somehow manages to keep cradling the baby with one arm as he bends down with the other, hauling a plastic bucket onto the bed. You gape at the contents — dozens upon dozens of smooth pebbles, each one lovingly decorated in bright shades of orange.

“Had to get the whole family involved, didn’t I?” Lando says with a shameless grin. “She’s got loads of brothers and sisters to look after her now.”

You swat at him in a flood of exasperated affection. “You absolute prick. Look at you, being all sentimental.”

“Me? Never.” But the shine of unshed tears in his eyes contradicts the words. He transfers the baby back to you with exaggerated care, then takes a moment to stroke one gentle finger along her tiny cheek. “You’ve got one hell of a village behind you, little one.”

Over the next short while, Lando pulls up a chair and regales you all with outrageous stories and anecdotes, all while Rocky and his “siblings“ make the rounds, passed from person to person like favorite old friends. At one point, Oscar’s cradling your human baby in one arm and your original baby rock in the other, murmuring nonsense to them both as you blink back tears for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

“Look at you,” you say in awe, drinking in the sight. “My little family.”

Oscar meets your gaze over the top of your daughter’s head, his own eyes shining. “Our family,” he corrects softly.

You’re still reveling in that realization when a quiet knock sounds at the door. A nurse bustles in with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but we’re going to need to move the baby to the nursery soon. Just for a little while to let mum rest.”

Oh. You clutch your daughter closer on instinct, chest caving with an aching reluctance you weren’t expecting. How can you possibly bear to let her go already?

But then Lando slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Oi, it’s alright. We’ll keep an eye on her for you, yeah? Give Uncle Lando and Mini Piastri some quality time.”

Rocky sits nestled in his other palm, as stalwart and patient as ever even after all these years. You nod quickly, swiping at your damp cheeks as you kiss your daughter’s downy head one last time before relinquishing her to the nurse.

“I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Don’t go growing too much while I’m gone.”

Watching her get wheeled away is harder than you could have imagined, like a physical ache in your chest. Oscar wraps you up in his arms from behind, steadying you with his usual quiet strength.

“She’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hairline. “She’s just down the hall. We’re not going anywhere.”

You let his soothing words wash over you, turning into his embrace until your breathing evens out again. First lesson of parenthood learned — this part’s not easy. But you’ll get through it, just like everything else, with Oscar by your side.

Rocky sits on the bedside table, bold colors slightly faded but message as bright and clear as ever. A reminder that sometimes, the smallest, silliest things can take on the biggest meaning when it comes to family.

“Alright lovebirds,” Lando pipes up, slinging an arm around each of your shoulders. “What d’you say we bring the whole crew down to see the little miss soon, eh? Give her many uncles a chance to swoon all over her?”

You manage a watery chuckle, leaning into Lando’s side as Oscar tucks himself against your other side. Because this? This little patchwork family you’ve built around yourselves, kept close through all the chaos and the years? This is what it’s all about. The fierce loyalty, the bond forged by adversity and triumph and teamwork. The family you’ve chosen over and over again, year after year, through all of life’s twists and turns.

Your eyes drift to Rocky, resting quietly on the nightstand by your hospital bed. Once an inside joke, a silly gift from your husband to make you smile. Now a treasured heirloom, a precious mascot for the latest member of your ever-expanding clan.

Maybe you’ll hold onto that little rock for another few decades, you muse, draping one arm around Oscar’s trim waist. Long enough for your daughter — and any other little ones who may eventually join her — to grow up passing him between chubby baby fists. Long enough for your grandchildren to gather around and listen to stories about.

“Come on then,” you’ll say with an indulgent smile. “Let Granny tell you the story of Rocky. How he was the very first baby in our little family ...”

***

r/offmychest

u/NumberOneRockHater · 9h

My parents and entire family are convinced a ROCK is my older brother!

Okay, I have to get this off my chest because it’s been driving me crazy for years. My parents and extended family are all obsessed with this rock that they insist is my older brother “Rocky” (ugh, I know).

I’m talking full-on delusion levels here. Ever since before I was born, my dad got my mom this painted rock as a joke “baby”. Well, the joke escalated to the point where they started taking this rock everywhere, dressing it up in little outfits, calling it “him”, the whole nine yards.

At first I thought it was just a weird little quirk, you know? Silly but harmless. Except it never stopped. I’m 16 years old now and my PARENTS STILL REFER TO THIS ROCK AS MY SIBLING.

It’s always “Where’s your brother?” and “Did you pack Rocky’s bag for our trip?” and “Don’t forget to wish your brother a happy birthday!” My uncle (who is the WORST enabler) will show up to every family event pulling more painted rocks out of his pockets like “Look, more kids for you guys!”

Meanwhile I’m just standing there like a crazy person. How is nobody else concerned that my entire family has deluded themselves into believing a literal inanimate object is a sentient being?

And the real kicker? This dumb rock has been passed around and adored more than me, an actual human child. I have clear memories of being like 6 years old and my parents getting legitimately UPSET at me for dropping Rocky on the ground. While I’m standing right there!

My dad loves telling this stupid story about the day I was born, how my uncle showed up at the hospital like “I brought the baby’s siblings!” and pulled out an entire bucket of painted pebbles. PEBBLES, PEOPLE. As my “brothers and sisters”?

I’m honestly losing my mind here. No matter how much I protest or roll my eyes, they always play it off as a silly inside joke. Like yeah, I’m sure getting your knickers in a twist over my lack of acknowledgment for THE ROCK YOU NAMED AND CLAIM IS MY SIBLING is a totally normal thing to do! My mum actually teared up the last time I put my foot down, saying she could never abandon her “firstborn.” Um, hello? I was the firstborn, you weirdos!

At this point, I have to assume that either A) My parents and family are all certifiable and living in a shared psychosis, or B) This is some sort of Truman Show situational prank that I’m not in on.

Is it too late to be adopted by a normal family? Or do I need to be the one committed for dealing with this nonsense?

Please tell me I’m not actually going insane here. Anybody else have a family this completely deluded?

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u/NosyAndProud · 8h

LOL no way, your family sounds hilarious! I’m dying at the image of your poor teen self dealing with this ongoing rocky sibling chronicle. But in their defense, you’ve gotta admit it’s a pretty creative way to memorialize a dumb inside joke, right?

My advice? Lean into it. Get your big brother an outfit for the next family gathering. Play fight with “him” in front of your friends and horrify them. TP the house and blame it on Rocky’s delinquent behavior. The possibilities for messing with everyone are endless!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 6h

I’m honestly crying, your suggestions have me wheezing! Although if I DID embrace this, I’m pretty sure my uncle would lose his mind. He’s already brought enough “rock siblings” for an entire pebble daycare at this point.

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u/JudgingLoudly · 7h

This is sending me! I’m just imagining you as a little kid, trying to argue with your parents about why inanimate objects can’t actually be siblings. And them being full-on “Well ackshually, this is Rocky your brother” 🤓☝️

But also lowkey it’s kinda sweet? I mean objectifying nonliving things is usually a bad idea (see every Disney movie ever). But if it’s just a quirky tradition that brings your family joy and makes them feel special, who are we to judge? You only get one weird childhood!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 5h

Yes, exactly! It was always “But Rocky will be so disappointed if you don’t share your toys with him!” Like … what?

And don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful parents and we’re a very close, loving family. That’s what makes this particular shared psychosis so baffling! Just a big ol’ collective break from reality to obsess over this stupid rock, I guess.

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u/LiveForDrama · 4h

Ok but real talk, I would give ANYTHING to have been a fly on the wall when your uncle first unveiled the “siblings” 💀 I’m picturing this grown man deadass pulling pebbles out of his pockets and ceremoniously announcing “Here’s baby Pumice, and little Granite, and this one is called Basalt ...”

And your parents were just like “Why, HELLO THERE LITTLE ONES! WHAT DELIGHTFUL NEW ADDITIONS TO OUR BROOD!” Just … no questions asked. No commentary on the total insanity. God, I love families.

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 3h

You have NO idea. I still have flashbulb memories of being like 10 years old, walking into the living room to find my GROWN-ASS UNCLE lying on the floor, lining up those idiotic pebbles and introducing them one by one.

Meanwhile my dad is on the couch COOING at them and having full-on conversations like “Isn’t that right, little fella? Your uncle just loves to spoil you, doesn’t he?” MY BRAIN COULD NOT COMPUTE.

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u/GlassHalfFull · 2h

Ok, gotta say … as someone raised by very boring, no-nonsense parents, I’m just a lil bit jealous of the sheer unrestrained WHIMSY your family has cultivated here.

Like, you’ll always have this hilarious shared experience to look back on! Sure it’s a rock, but it’s THEIR rock, you know? That’s beautiful in a weird way. At least your childhood wasn’t mind-numbing evenings full of tax documents and khaki pantsuits?

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 1h

Haha, you make a good point! I definitely can’t say my childhood was dull, that’s for sure. Although I do have traumatic memories of losing Rocky at a rest stop when I was 5, and my parents freaking out for hours until we found him under a vending machine. Totally normal.

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[dcxdpdabbles]

God, I love the Cave Boy series. Will the batfam manage to find him after he dips. Will they ever find out about his powers. So many questions

Danny stays underground for days.

He doesn't know the exact time frame because he only goes to the surface to grab supplies. He makes sure to only fully emerge when there is no light out.

It was a bigger risk to be caught by the Waynes, who only operated in the dark, but it ensured fewer eyewitnesses were around. Danny Kane was still a very hot celebrity for taking down the Joker- he would be surrounded by a mob of fans if he walked down the street.

He moved his ship into a deeper cave by phasing the large metal and all his equipment through solid rock, which was not easy. It was a miracle he found a little pocket to set up shop.

Danny thinks the little pocket- surrounded by stone with no opening at all, was formed after a cave-in at one point. It was large enough to work on his ship and had just enough space to set up a sleeping bag and a tent for rest.

He rarely uses that space nowadays.

Danny had stolen from a camping store- taking with him an entire box of lanterns that he placed strategically around his space. They threw light to the large four walls of stone- making him feel trapped inside a midevil dungeon, and somehow, it also made him think incredulity alone.

That was the worst part of this whole change of scenery. He doesn't want to admit it, but he got used to Wayne Manor and the colorful characters there.

He hadn't even done anything besides lay around but he missed the sound of people. Even before Bruce had found him, Danny would see people often as he wandered around gathering a sense of the city.

Now, he was genuinely suffocating alone. He didn't feel the loss often, but there were times when it felt like being hit by a truck.

It's when his own ice powers reach into his bones, causing his teeth to clatter and curl up into a smaller ball on the cave ground, that Danny misses the Manor the most. He stole food from the stores- but without any way to cook or heat it up, it's limited to the packed food.

Sometimes, while eating packs of dried fruit, he thinks longingly of Alfred's warm meals. Then he remembers how they looked at him when his lies got so out of hand that they believed Bruce's parents lived in his world and he could suppress the longing to return.

Danny has made leaps and bounds on building his ship since he no longer pretends to be Brucie. He no longer filled the hours with nonsense, only being awake to work or stealing what he needed to continue working.

Unlike before, Danny had developed a tunnel version of finishing his project. He no longer wanted to give himself time to ensure everything was fine.

He just wanted to go home.

He's gotten better at wielding using his own ghost laser, and now his ship had its full body. It was missing seats, a window, and even a steering program that actually turned when he wanted- but he was getting closer and closer every day.

All the small technology pieces he stole from the Waynes were on one side- ripped apart for the needed parts. He would spend hours carefully opening everything to check what he could use and what he could melt down to repurpose.

Danny carefully pulls out some small wires from the electric candle he took from the Wayne Dinner table when his vision blurs. He takes a moment to blink rapidly, trying to let the sudden burst of lightheadedness pass him.

Sadly, it was only a few seconds before he crumbled to the hard ground. He gasps, the cold coming back tenfold, and he can do nothing but lay there and pray the pain passes.

Danny hadn't felt this weak since his ice core first developed. Even the first Ghostly Wail hadn't made his limbs feel this heavy.

He knows he has been pushing himself too far lately- barely eating or sleeping- but Danny can't risk any wasted second. He saw the resources the Bats have.

It was only a matter of time before they found him- even if they would need to drill through the solid stone for hours to reach him- and he didn't want to face them after the guilt of lying to them was slowly eating him alive.

He had kept the Wayne at arm's length the entire time, living under the pretense of being Bruce Wayne's counterpart. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with their nightly battle against evil- and he didn't!- and that he could care less if they treated him as family.

He took everything they gave him without hesitation, telling himself they were fools for letting anyone in and stealing from them. Danny thought it would not matter as he would finish his ship and be flying home long before they realized he wasn't Bruce.

Until they stop treating him so warmly after killing the Joker. Danny wasn't sorry about it, but suddenly, he was a stranger in a crowd to them.

Danny had no right to be upset. He lied. He didn't want to be Brucie to them and had actively made Tim look bad by being as Unproactive as possible, going along with changed narratives of his world.

Danny had used the Waynes.

Yes, he did so, believing they were a cult or an evil madman, but he learned that wasn't the case early on. He could have ended the lie at any moment, but he didn't because he figured it would be harmless.

Then he realized that Bruce's parents were killed in front of him- the story wasn't hard to find when he actually bothered to look into the Waynes at a local high school library after hours.

Not only did he find the horrific story, but he found out that almost all the Waynes had a tragic story. Dick's parents were murdered in an accident that wasn't an accident at all.

Tim's parents were killed by a madman with boomerangs. Jason's father died in prison, and his mother overdosed before Bruce took him in. Duke's parents were patients with no working mind because of the Joker (Danny should have made his death last longer).

The only ones that didn't seem to be Cass and Damian, but he knew it was likely due to Bruce not wanting the public to learn that they came from abusive households- he figured that much out by their reactions.

Even Alfred had a history of PTSD from his time in the army. There was an article about a scandal when Bruce had actually been a child- apparently, someone had thought to release firecrackers under the servant's table, and Alfred had panicked. People had mocked him about it for months.

Everyone had a reason to be a villain, yet they all had opened their home to him and been nothing but kind. They were good, and they treated him like family.

Danny felt sick with himself, for being so self-centered he never bothered to really get to know them. And now he never could.

A few tears rolled down his face as his vision started to blur out more and more.

No use crying over it now, Fenton. Though the haze of exhaustion doesn't let him get up from the floor, he thinks bitterly.

He'll rest for a little bit, then get back to work. Only for a few minutes/

Danny doesn't notice his body has shifted in his Ghist side, slowly redirecting his energy to his core, so that his healing could help overcome the unknown days.

He is not aware his heartbeat stops at the same time.

_____________________________________________________________

"I can't hear him anymore!" A young boy screams, pressing his ear against a stone. Horror clouds his voice as he turns to stare at another boy. "His heartbeat....it's not...."

"We must make haste! Breakthrough now!" The other boy snaps.

"But that might cause the cave to fall on top of him." The other rubs his hands together nervously. "I think we may be too late to save-"

"Every second we waste is a second that Brucie gets closer to death!" His company growls savagely, though the tears in his eyes make him less scary. "We have to at least bring his body home- we-I can't- he needs to be buried properly."

Not even a second passed before the other boy threw his shoulders back, yanking out his phone and pressing a speed dial two.

His father picks up two rings. "Jon?"

"Dad! We found Brucie! He was stuck in a cave underneath the tunnels leading to Gotham Cemetry. Can you come help me get him out?"

"I'll be right there."

[weirdlandtv]

How to depict blinking in a comic? Oh hello, by the way. Yes, I'm still alive. I'm fine and how are you and all that but—how to depict blinking in a comic strip? Carl Barks used this method—

The ducks' huge eyes are split in two, with one set of slightly faded pupils in the top half (see image 1), and another of solid black pupils in the lower half, both sets cut off in such a way that the “stacked” pupils don't appear like one large elongated pupil (a thin white horizontal line separates the two states as well); and that, with the added "Blink! Blink!" gets the job done perfectly. Here’s another slightly different blink:

(Now that I'm writing this stuff about top half, bottom half I'm suddenly reminded of a Barks gag I came across: a file cabinet in the background of a panel with one drawer saying TOP SECRET and the one below it saying BOTTOM SECRET.)

Really though, Barks's brilliant stories are en endless source of great ideas, gags, splash pages, twists, visual tricks, pacing, phrasing, suspense building, the whole proverbial "shebang", whatever a shebang is: I've said it before on this blog but any budding artist or writer—heck, even a professional one—could learn a lot from Barks's best work. Fireworks of creativity.

Re-reading some of Barks's stories, as I sometimes do by way of therapy, it struck me that many panels consist of three main elements: a foreground element, a middle section where the action takes place, and a background:

This foreground element can really be anything. It can be a bush, a tree, a rock, even a wave:

It can be a chair, a table, or any other piece of interior:

It can be a character, or just their silhouette:

And of course it's also a good way to hide snooping villains:

In the Gyro Gearloose stories the foreground element is often Little Helper having a kind of silent slapstick adventure of his own (in Dutch here as it’s from my own copy):

…Also, how is this for dark:

[cosmal]

also!!! sirius giving shy!you your first hickey 😵‍💫 he’s so gentle at first, but once you start making noises and gasping he gets a tad bit rough. he ends up accidentally leaving a bright purple mark on your neck that doesn’t go away for days. unfortunately james and remus see it and the teasing is relentless

marked up

mal i love u this request is amazing.

summary — sirius gives you a hickey. james and remus think it’s amusing.

content — sirius black x fem!reader, hickies, shy!reader

Sirius has his face in your neck and he’s been home for a solid five minutes.

You’re in his bed and he’s on top of you. His hip over your stomach, an arm across your chest that’s curled up behind your ear to hold your face back.

“Is that,” he mumbles, smattering quick, wet kisses over your skin. He breathes in, “is that a new perfume?”

You angle your head upwards to escape his relentless mouth, face towards the ceiling. You can feel the beginnings of shy laughter bubble low in your chest.

“Yeah,” you say a little breathless, a lot distracted. “Yeah, you bought it.”

He nudges the patch of skin under your jaw. “Did I?”

He’s so close to your sweet spot you feel like you can’t breathe. Your chest stutters when he finds it and all you can do is hum what you hope sounds like a yes.

Sirius sets a cruel path across your neck, nipping and nudging. You think you have an idea on what he’s about to do. Your hands tighten in their grip where you have them in his dress shirt. He still smells like work.

He opens his mouth and the pressure is barely there. You’ve gone quiet and Sirius notices. “How was your day, lovely?”

You bite your lip. “Uh—“ This close you worry Sirius can feel the thumping of your heart under your skin. You breathe deeply to contain it and pretend he doesn’t know how nervous you are just from how warm you’ve gotten. “It was— it was okay.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t continue. His lips part and you shiver instead. He’s slow and gentle at first, though you suspect it’s only the beginning. The pressure builds and your neck feels warm.

“Sirius,” you gasp. He grunts into your neck.

His teeth graze your skin and your hands reach up to tug at his hair as rough as you can allow yourself to. You think how at the beginning of your relationship you would’ve had a flustered fit if you had your boyfriend this close to your neck. Now you’re pulling him closer.

He bites down gently and you get a little gaspy. Pawing at the soft material at his shirt. Sirius would continue if he had it in him. If he hears your little whimpers any longer he might implode. He grunts a pleased laugh and pulls back with a wet smack.

He leans on his elbow, bringing a hand up to your neck. Pressing his thumb into the damp spot, he coos.

“Pretty,” he says absentmindedly.

Your hands fly to your neck. “Is that gonna leave a spot?”

Sirius chuckles, smoothing over the bullied skin gently, “Yeah, lovely.”

You cover your warming face with your hands and nudge his leg with a socked foot. “Sirius,” you whine, “really?”

He leans down to pry your hands away, you let him, not too willingly you might add, when he puckers his lips for a kiss. “Yes, really,” he grins. “It’ll look good.”

“Everyone’ll see it.”

“That’s the whole point!” he snorts. You can’t look him in the face.

“Remus is gonna have a field day.”

-

Remus does have a field day. So does James.

“Y/N, lovely,” James gasps when they find you on Sirius’ couch later that night.

“James…” you murmur, confused.

“What is that?”

He points at your neck and you feign obliviousness. “What?”

“On your neck…” Remus supplies. Smarmy.

“Boys….” You hear Sirius warn. A low grumble from the kitchen.

“Oh, um—” You hide your warming face behind a cushion.

“You’ve been mauled!” James says when he gets closer.

“Should we call someone?” Remus adds. Both their eyes glisten with mirth as they eye each other over the sofa. You’d whack them both if you hadn’t sunk into the couch.

“Ambulance?” James gawks, “The police? Was it Sirius?”

Remus goes to poke it. You swat his hand away with a confidence you barely have. “Stop it! Leave me alone or I’ll kick you both out.”

James snorts as he throws himself into the seat next to you. “You get marked up once and you think you can throw us out of our best mate’s flat!”

Remus looks amused as he sits down as well. “Marked up? She’s been attacked.” You roll your eyes. The mark is tiny. Barely there. You’re surprised they can even see it under the lack of lighting in Sirius’s flat.

“Aw, do you want one too, Prongs?” Sirius teases, making grabby hands at James.

He stands from his seat. “Don’t touch me!”

“C’mere,” Sirius laughs.

“No!”

Sirius chases a roaring James around the house while you and Remus sit back and hold back bouts of laughter. You forget about the hickey almost immediately.

That is until later that night in bed with Sirius when he murmurs how you’re all his until he falls asleep.

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦!𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // when Peter saves you from a dangerous situation, your adrenaline-fueled emotions lead to both, sad and a passionate moment.

// Warnings // kidnapping, trapping, kissing?

// Author’s Note // divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @buckypascal

MASTERLIST

You were in trouble. The kind of trouble that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. It was a dangerous situation that you never thought you'd find yourself in.

You were trapped, your heart racing as you struggled against the ropes that bound your hands and feet. The masked man stood before you, a sadistic smile on his face as he taunted you.

"Looks like your superhero boyfriend isn't coming to save you this time," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

But just as you were about to give up hope, the door burst open and in came Peter, dressed in his Spiderman suit.

"Let her go," he growled, his fists clenched in anger.

The masked man laughed, pulling out a knife and pressing it against your throat. "I don't think so, spidey. I've been waiting for this moment. The moment I finally get to kill someone close to you."

Peter's eyes widened in fear, but he didn't back down. "Let her go and take me instead."

The masked man hesitated, considering Peter's offer. But before he could make a move, Peter shot out a web and knocked the knife out of his hand and punched him hard in the face. You took the opportunity to break free from your restraints and run towards Peter, wrapping your arms around him in relief. The man stumbled back, not realizing that he was standing on the edge of the building. When he realized, it was already late. He couldn’t catch himself and fell down.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Peter's worried voice filled your ears as he set you down and checked you over for any injuries.

"I-I'm fine." you stammered, still in shock from the whole ordeal.

"Good. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," Peter said, looking at you with genuine concern in his eyes. "Come on, let's get you home," he said, scooping you up in his arms and swinging away, landing both of you on the ground.

The adrenaline slowly started to wear off and you began to feel the full weight of what had just happened. You couldn't stop shaking.

Peter noticed and stopped, turning to face you. "Hey, it's okay," he said, his voice soft and comforting. "You're safe now."

You couldn't hold back anymore and you wrapped your arms around Peter, burying your face in his chest as you sobbed. He held you tightly, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

"It's over now," he whispered, his words like a balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

Peter tightened his grip on you, his heart still racing. You were standing like that for a solid five minutes. You had stopped crying a while ago, but you didn’t want to let go of him yet.

When you finally pulled away, you both looked into each other's eyes and in that moment, you both knew what you wanted.

Without a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, pouring all your pent-up emotions into the kiss. Peter responded eagerly, his hands roaming over your body as you deepened the kiss.

When you pulled away, panting for air, Peter looked at you “I'll always come to save you, no matter what," he said softly, kissing your temple.

[moog-rt]

GO TO HELL [ch. 1]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Prologue

➨ Chapter One

Next: Chapter Two

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): blood, gore, cannon-typical violence

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER ONE

Your head throbbed, and cradling it with your hand only turned it into a piercing pain rather than dulling it.

You were careful as you worked to stand up. It was hard to grab hold of anything sturdy enough to support your weight, and upon closer inspection, it turned out you were taking a power nap in a pile of garbage. And, boy, was that shit rank.

You stumbled your way onto solid ground whilst picking gunk-covered plastic from your shirt and hair.

The surroundings that greeted you were unlike anything you could imagine. The sky appeared polluted with red smog so thick you couldn’t see the sun, though it didn’t smell like the kind of pollution you were used to. Rather than chemical, it stank of smoke and decay.

Every breath you took of this new atmosphere felt thick and raspy. You weren’t sure you could really even consider it breathable. You were probably inhaling a handful of carcinogens by the second.

From what you could see through the gap of the two buildings that made up the alley you were in, there was a city. It was as if the materials of the buildings were selected to complement the sky. Everything was a different shade of red or burgundy. The plumes of smoke that tunneled up in the distance were mildly concerning, though they didn’t seem to be an immediate threat.

It was all enough to drive a clear sense of dread through your gut. No way in Hell were you supposed to be here. You should be on your way to Devon’s place- No, you were at Devon’s place, in their living room.

And now you were…well, you didn’t really know. That was kind of the problem.

The panic only truly set in after you tripped, scraping your knees on the filthy cement. You didn’t want to know what caused that dark brown, slightly chunky stain. Turning to face the lump that caused your stumble, your stomach plummeted. Face paled.

That was a corpse. A whole not-so-human corpse. Mangled and lying motionless in a pool of blood that was beginning to dry.

In an instant, you threw yourself off of the ground, backpedaling away from the body. What on Earth could have caused their limbs to bend in so many directions? On second thought, you hoped it would stay a mystery.

You couldn’t ruminate on it for long before you felt something large grab your shoulder, hoisting you around so your back was facing the alley. You winced as the grip grew tighter and looked up to see a green-skinned man with jagged teeth protruding from his mouth. 

In that instant, it felt as if your heart had been launched a thousand feet in the air.

His pitch-black eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to your face, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move or utter a single word. His grip moved to your neck, turning your head around so he could see you from every angle. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, he brought his nose to your cheek and inhaled deeply.

“A human,” he said in a grumbly voice. You could see a corner of his lips curl into a wicked smile. “That’s a first. It’d be a shame to let you go to waste.”

Go. You had to go.

To have a freeze-response in a situation like this was a death sentence. You hadn’t the slightest clue what this man’s–this thing’s–intentions were with you, but you had an inkling that it wouldn’t be pleasant.

You had to move. Even if it was just an inch, just enough to convince yourself that you still could. You would take either fight or flight over this.

“Is that soul still living?”

Your eyes flicked over to the source of the new voice. A tall, reptilian-looking creature with eyes that seemed to be bugging out of its head. They were no more comforting than the man who was only a few inches away from strangling you.

“Fuck off! I found ‘er. She’s mine!” Apparently, the lizard-man was enough to draw your assailant’s attention away from you.

Lizard-man did not in fact fuck off. That response was the confirmation that only further drew him in. Looking around, you noticed other inhuman creatures turning their attention toward the three of you.

The lizard-man made a sudden lunge for you, digging claws into the green man’s arms. He hollered out in pain with an endless string of curses.

In that moment, you felt his grip on you loosen, and you dropped to the ground like dead weight. This was your chance. Likely your only chance before both of them pounced on you at once. Maybe more by the looks of the other creatures closing in, as well.

Relief washed over you as you slowly moved your arm to push you up. The mental confines over your body had been released, and just in time. You were able to clumsily roll out of the way as the men threw each other to the ground, and with wobbly legs, you promptly hauled ass out of there.

You could hear screams of rage and surprise as you shoved through the people on the street, apologizing occasionally. You could feel dozens of pairs of eyes burning into the back of your head, and you were almost certain that some had given chase.

The odd buildings blurred past you. You may have caught a glimpse of a shop with televisions on display and another that looked as though human limbs were hanging on meat hooks, but this was no time for window shopping. All of it caused your head to spin from both physical and emotional whiplash.

The first corner you turned revealed a massive light-up sign that towered above everything else with text saying, “Welcome to Hell.”

What kind of twisted joke was this?

You ducked into another alleyway. Nobody was around, but you could still hear yelling close behind you. Your heart felt as though it stopped for a second as you took notice of a massive barricade blocking off the only exit. The first sliver of your luck finally showed itself to you in the form of a small gap that could be just big enough for you to fit.

You were forced to slow down in order to wiggle your way through it, allowing your pursuers to catch up. Just when you thought you had cleared the blockade, that big green hand wrapped around your ankle, yanking you back.

You cried out and pulled as much as you could until your foot slid out of your sock, successfully freeing you. Padding barefoot through this wretched city wouldn’t be pleasant, but you were sure it was better than whatever those things had planned for you.

As you pushed back into a sprint, you heard the green man’s voice screaming at the others about how he wouldn’t let them through before him. That was fine by you. He was much too big to fit through that hole, and you doubted he could scale the wall completely. If he was dead set on not letting anyone pass before him, then you probably had all the time in the world. Even so, you wouldn’t feel safe until you could get as far as your legs could carry you. 

So, ignoring your burning lungs and pounding heart, you pushed forward. Through the streets that grew more and more disheveled, collapsed buildings, cracked and upheaved asphalt roads. The lack of shoes only made it that much worse as your feet were getting sore. You were slowing down, but you refused to stop until you found someplace suitable to take refuge.

After the last main row of the city, there was a hill. And on top of that hill, there was a hotel.

Or so the sign on it said. Happy Hotel.

You could tell it was probably supposed to light up, but it wasn’t on, either because it was daytime (you assumed) or the bulbs were burnt out. Both seemed equally likely. The place was massive but appeared to be a hodgepodge of things all shoved into one, a cruise ship crashed into one side, a train on top of the roof… But despite its general run-down appearance, the stained glass windows remained untouched as if they were brand new.

It would be a gamble on whether this place was inhabited or not, but at least it was out of that shit show of a city. Probably the safest thing you’d come across thus far.

Besides, it was a hotel. Maybe you still had one of your cards in your pocket. If not, there was always Apple Pay, right?

The final push up the hill really did you in, leaving you panting and covered in sweat at the front door. You were dying to sit down and rest, but you wouldn’t feel comfortable doing so until you were inside. 

Seeing the building up close left you even more confused about whether or not the place was still running. The majority of the double front doors were stained glass with an apple shape in the center of each. It was quite beautiful. But at the same time, the edges of the frame appeared chipped and rotted, showing the building’s true age.

You were just thankful when the door creaked open without a fight. You didn’t want to resort to breaking in through one of those wonderful windows. With how loud it would be, you might as well scream out your arrival.

Aside from some of the detailed woodwork and repetitive apple iconography, the inside of the hotel was a bit sad to put it frankly. Little to no furniture. Cobwebs coating everything. The chandelier holding on by a thread (maybe the cobwebs were preventing it from falling). There was a minifridge, though!

You couldn’t imagine you would be lucky enough to find a cold bottle of water in there, but you decided to check to be sure. The cool air alone, wafting out as you opened its door, alleviated some of your discomfort. Unfortunately, there was no water or any beverage, for that matter. Inside were a couple of applesauce(?) cups and a styrofoam take-out container.

The fact that there was anything at all was concerning as it was a bit of confirmation there were already inhabitants. You would need to keep looking for a safe place to stay unless they ended up being the odd few in this town that weren’t out for blood.

On cue, cool metal prodded the back of your neck as you were closing the fridge, and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” asked the person behind you. Their voice was cold and harsh, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. So much for going unscathed.

“I was just looking for somewhere to rest. I’m sorry for intruding,” you said just above a whisper, raising your hands instinctively. 

“You want to stay here?” a chipper voice cut through the air, echoing a bit in the large, empty foyer. They sounded almost happy you were trespassing. “Vaggie, this could be our first guest!”

“Babe, the hotel isn’t even open yet,” the first voice sighed before the metal was pulled away from your skin. You took that as an invitation to turn around.

Before you stood two young women–you’d guess late teens or early twenties. They were the most human-like people you had the pleasure of coming across since waking up in a hot pile of garbage. The only thing that threw you off was their grey and porcelain white skin tones. It was as if they were pulled out of a black-and-white movie from the ‘50s.

You’d take what you could get at this point. At least they didn’t have scales.

“We’ll just have to move up our grand opening then,” the taller girl sang with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. She bounded over to you, squatting down to meet you at eye level. “Would you be interested in a shot at redemption? It doesn’t matter what you’ve stolen or who you’ve murdered. Everyone deserves a second chance!”

Was this chick for real? What did redemption have to do with a hotel? And why would you need to be redeemed?

Your mouth hung open as your eyes bobbed between the two strangers.

“Wait a second…” The shorter girl–who you realized was the one holding a fucking spear to your neck–suddenly went wide-eyed. “You’re a human. Jesus, she’s a human!”

The blonde stared at her for a moment before turning back to you with knit eyebrows.

“Really? How do you know?” she asked with a tilt of her head as her eyes darted all over you, looking for some tell-tale sign of your humanity.

In what world is it surprising to see a human? You hadn’t been shipped to Mars. That you were certain of. 

Then you came to your own realization. 

Devon must have drugged you! That was the only way this could make any sense. Was it acid? LSD? You’d have to ask them after you sobered up. Or maybe after you wring their scrawny little neck, because the therapy you’d need after this was sure to cost a fortune.

The hand that landed on your shoulder caused you to flinch. The shorter girl–Vaggie–was kneeling in front of you now. Her touch was delicate as if she was worried she’d break you if she put enough pressure. A stark contrast to the way she treated you a minute ago.

“How did you get here?” she asked in a much softer tone than earlier.

You let out a huff of air, a sorry excuse for a laugh. You smiled, shaking your head as your body slumped back against the fridge.

“I don’t even know where here is,” you laughed. “I was in my friend’s apartment one second and being hunted down by a mob of demons the next.”

The two exchanged a look before helping you to your feet. They settled you down on a couch, one of the few pieces of furniture they had, and got you a glass of water to sip on. The scrapes and cuts you had gotten during your chase, or possibly before it, were treated to, as well. The foot that lost its sock was particularly nasty.

They introduced themselves and explained that you were in Hell. You reckon you should have figured that one out from the big-ass sign you saw while running for your life.

In return, you told them the last few things you could remember before ending up here. Helping your friend with a demon-summoning ritual and getting dragged through a glowing hole in the ground as a result.

“Sounds like that backfired a bit,” Vaggie said. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, a bit. That’s what I get for doing my friend a solid, I guess,” you shrugged, leaning back as you gulped down more of the water. 

“Oh, don’t say that. At the end of the day, you helped a friend, and you found us! And we’ll definitely make sure you get home safe and sound,” Charlie grinned as she gently placed a hand on your knee.

You gave a small smile in return. You’re not sure how much you believed in her words, but it was sweet of her to try to reassure you. Her hope was almost infectious, and you could use as much of that as you could get.

“Also, you’re totally welcome to stay here for as long as you need! We’ve got plenty of rooms, and I’m sure we’ll start getting more furniture soon, and if there’s any food you’d like us to get, we can–”

“Baby, slow down,” Vaggie chuckled.

“Sorry…I guess I’m just really excited. You would be our first guest, and I’ve also never seen a human other than my mom before, and even she’s a special case…” Charlie said, looking off to the side as she brushed a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

“The only humans we technically have are the ones that die and are deemed sinners,” Vaggie explained. “But they take on a new appearance. Usually, it reflects something within their soul.”

Huh.

“That’s…interesting,” you said, eyebrows tightly furrowed together. What does being a lizard man say about that dude’s soul? And what about being green? Maybe it was his favorite color? Or maybe he was green with envy. Haha.

“So what do you say?”

You looked at Charlie to see her holding her hand out to you. If the two of you were making a deal, she wasn’t really getting anything out of it. It was pure charity work…

“Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you in return,” you said, taking her hand.

With that, the two young women gave you a brief tour of the hotel. It was still a work in progress, but you could see Charlie’s vision. If they just cleaned it up a bit and filled in the space, it would look livable. You would be more than happy to help with that if you ended up spending enough time there, though you hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

If you weren’t back soon, your place would start getting cobwebs. You also couldn’t miss too many days of work…PTO wasn’t infinite, and you had bills to pay. Your coworkers would also have it out for you if you left them short-staffed.

What if they started putting up missing flyers? Hopefully, they wouldn’t blame the coworker you convinced to go home early. She was the last person you were spotted with in public, after all. No one knew you were going to Devon’s, so it was unlikely they’d take the blame.

Maybe the guy you had been in a situationship with for the last several months would be their suspect. Most of your friends knew all about him (primarily because you’d bitch and whine so much), and it’s not uncommon for people to point fingers at the ‘partner.’

He raised a few red flags here and there, sure, but what man hasn’t? None of them were even close to kidnap-murder level. Mostly just picking his toes in public and swearing on his life that his exes were the crazy ones, not him. Nothing necessarily surprising.

You needed to stop worrying and start embodying Charlie’s confidence in the situation. You would find a way to get back. You would not be stuck in Hell long enough to raise alarm. You just had to manifest it!

Eventually, your hosts showed you to the room you could stay in. It was one of the few furnished ones besides their room at the moment. They also gave you a change of clothes after realizing just how dirty (and smelly) yours were after waking up in a trash heap. Plus, you had two socks again!

You met back up with them in the foyer when you were finished. They wanted to discuss possible ways you could get out of Hell, which you had absolutely no problem with. The two of them brainstormed for a bit while you just sat back and listened in. Vaggie brought up that some upper-class ‘hellborns’ had ways in and out of Hell, but she didn’t have any specifics.

You felt bad not contributing, but what did you know about traveling between the living world and Hell? Jack, that’s what. 

“Do you think your dad would know? He’s probably had to get to Earth for some reason or another, yeah?” Vaggie asked, but she was met with a grumble of a response.

“I don’t know…” Charlie said with a frown, all her hopeful energy zapped away in an instant. “He’s never been super helpful with stuff like this.”

“Come on, babe. If anybody would know, it would be him,” Vaggie pressed. “He’s gotta have something we could use.”

Charlie simply groaned as she threw her upper body over the arm of the sofa and sat like that for a minute or two. It was possible that she wasn’t on very good terms with her father. Or he was just exasperating to deal with.

You sent a worried look at Vaggie, because what were you supposed to do in this situation?

“Okay, yeah. We can swing by my old house tomorrow and poke around,” Charlie said as she stood up.

“Great, but you,” Vaggie jabbed her finger in your direction. “Get ready to wake up bright and early. We’ll have to make you presentable first.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Next Chapter

[pinkestofpanthers]

some logan thoughts

a/n: i absolutely love desperate housewives, so this was loosely based on susan & mike, my favorite couple!

you wanted him. he had only moved into the apartment building two days ago and you barely interacted with him, but you would be a liar if you said he hadn't made you feel some type of way. you didn't get the chance to introduce yourself; you could only dumbly smile and wave at him in the lobby as you retrieved your mail. however, you thanked whatever entity above that your nosy neighbor, ethel, was able to introduce herself with a basket of baked goods and housewarming flowers.

from what she relayed to you, he only moved a couple hours from where he previously resided in canada. he was a plumber who had been out of work for a while, but of course still carried his toolbox everywhere he went, leaving it in the bed of his truck just in case. ethel noticed how there was no ring on his finger, and that his apartment, though still stuffed with boxes, was only set up for one person to live there. you didn't miss the nudge she gave you as she told you this.

you knew he only lived four doors down from ethel, who lived just across the hall from you. it would seem random to show up, it's not like he moved in directly next to you. how could you have possibly approached him? you continued to think your options through, until you turned to the newspaper that had just been delivered this morning. he was a plumber after all, right?

frantically, you began stuffing pages upon pages down your garbage disposal. how exactly could you explain this happening? blame it on the pet cat you never had? the niece your brother never introduced you to, let alone didn't even have? you were sure an excuse would come to your head once the stranger found his way into your apartment.

that was, until, he was actually in your apartment.

"hello?" he called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. you smiled back at him and he asked again,

"so, how did you get this morning's news shoved down your disposal?"

you stammered, eyes darting around for some excuse you could pull out of thin air. after thinking it over for a solid five seconds, you decided to blurt out about the little "accident" your niece had when she visited earlier. you didn't want to embarrass her, so you waited to get help until after she left.

based on his reaction, you couldn't tell if he was completely sold on your lie or not. you hoped he took it for what it was and could spend an extra thirty minutes on the floor of your kitchen.

during that sacred time he spent on your floor, you had made some sort of small talk with the handsome man. finding out where he was from, why he moved, and that he was single (something he revealed after you asked if he moved here by himself). this had kept on until the time he asked for a hand off the floor, as he finished the little project you set up for him hours before. you thanked him and asked how much you owed, heading to grab your purse.

"it's no big deal, don't think you have to pay me," he responded to your ask, but you insisted. i mean, the man just cleaned out a whole book's worth of papers for you.

"there has to be something i can give you! i'll treat you takeout?" you were starting to feel bad. it wasn't fair that the man who made his living off doing jobs like this, who had been out of work for a while, had just finished fixing your garbage disposal, and was telling you to not pay him.

"how about that fancy little italian place up the block? tomorrow night. my treat, though," he said after thinking your offer over and you just scoffed.

"well, that defeats the purpose of me paying you back, don't you think?" you questioned, which got a chuckle out of him. he assured you it would be his pleasure to take you out, and that just going out with him would be enough payment. you thought it over and went back and forth with him until you ultimately agreed.

as you showed him out of your apartment, him with his tool kit in hand, he decided to say one more thing, something that would haunt you for the rest of the night until you saw him tomorrow evening,

"and next time," he smirked as he turned back to you, "just be a little more like nosy neighbor ethel and come introduce yourself. i'm sure your garbage disposal will be happy you did."

[lxndonorris]

back inside the cockpit - Max Verstappen (SFS24)

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smut (you've been warned) testing begins and you're joining Max during his stint. Tension rises, between the smell of rubber and the roaring of the new Red Bull. word count: 2460+ taglist: @game-set-canet another part of the suit fitting saga 24 (SFS24), if you have any request, let me know! Next one is about Lando :)

As the new racing season looms on the horizon, you find yourself drawn into the whirlwind of excitement that engulfs your boyfriend, Max Verstappen, a professional racing driver. Joining him for the tests marks the beginning of an exciting and promising year of high-speed racing.

Inside his private quarters, the anticipation hangs thick in the air as Max showcases his sleek navy blue racing suit for the very first time. With a mischievous grin, he catches your eye before slipping into the tight, dark undergarments—the fireproofs—each deliberate movement meant to show off a little.

Running a hand along your own thighs, you bite your lip. Looking down at your own clothes—the new Red Bull team gear—you're drawn to the thought of him holding you close, the faint scent of his cologne engulfing you both. It's his shirt that he gave to you just minutes prior. He wore it to the track this morning; it is still warm and smells like him. It's a little wide, but that's okay—it's his, after all, and that's what matters.

You lift your eyes, just in time to catch him tugging his trunk into his trousers. Max, watching you the whole time, smirks—he looks so good with his bare chest still on display and his thighs filling his pants easily.

Then, he slips into the upper half with a low groan, and one arm at a time, the tight fabric swings itself along his bulging biceps, shoulders, and pecs.

You vividly recall the countless hours he spent in the gym, pushing himself to the limit as he sculpted his body into a lean, mean racing machine. Drenched in sweat, his muscles straining with exertion, he remained unwavering in his pursuit of excellence, each drop of sweat a testament to his dedication and resolve.

"Like what you see?" Max teases, his voice low and husky as he flexes his muscles, the fabric molding to his form with effortless precision.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from him, the desire pooling in the pit of your stomach as you admire the way the fireproofs hug his every curve.

"You look incredible." You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach out to trace the contours of his chest, the fabric smooth beneath your fingertips.

With a chuckle, Max captures your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before slipping into the rest of the racing suit. 

Still running your other hand across his firm chest, he draws you close. His lips mere inches from yours, Max presses a tender kiss against your lips.

"It feels good," he purrs into your mouth, "but I need to put the rest on." 

Chuckling, you pull away slowly, your eyes meeting his in a locked gaze. 

"Can't wait to see it all," you say, patting his chest, You stroke him again before he takes a step back.

With practiced ease, he begins to don the racing suit, each movement fluid and deliberate as he allows you to linger in the space between you, your fingers tracing the lines of his body with gentle reservence.

The fabric clings to him like a lover's embrace, the zipper inching upward with agonizing slowness as he reveals himself to you in all his glory.

Piece by piece, he assembles his racing ensemble, each article of clothing a tantalizing glimpse into the raw power and athleticism that lie beneath. With each touch and each caress, you feel a surge of desire course through you, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you both.

As he fastens the last buckle, his eyes meet yours, a smoldering intensity burning within their depths. Pulling you close, Max allows you to feel the strength of his arms, the solidness of his chest, and the desire building up inside him.

"It feels so good to be back." He exclaims, a bright smile spreading across his soft lips.

"I can tell." Running a hand along his waistline, you let your fingertips barely brush across his crotch, the dark fabric concealing his longing excitement.

With a smirk, he nods toward the door. "We've gotta go."

Together, you make your way toward the garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber mingling with the heady rush of adrenaline as you near the track. 

Standing side by side as Max adorns himself with the essential gear—gloves and a helmet—you can't help but feel a sudden swell of pride and aluurement at the sight of him, his passion and determination radiating from every pore.

"Ready to show them what you're made of?" you ask, your voice filled with unwavering support as you watch him settle into the driver's seat.

Max flashes you a grin, his eyes alight with excitement. "You bet," he replied, his voice tinged with anticipation as he revs the engine, the roar of the car drowning out the world around you.

As he speeds off onto the track, you linger in the garage, your heart racing in tandem with the thunderous roar of the engines. Watching him maneuver with grace and precision, a sense of awe washes over you, a deep-seated admiartion for the man who never ceases to amaze you with his skill and passion.

Through the cackle of the radio, you catch snippets of his laughter, a symphony of joy reverberating through the air. In that moment—behind the wheel, pushing the car to its limit for the very first time.

Just by the tone of his voice, you can tell he is as excited as ever, with his passion for racing echoing through the radio. You know how much he loves this, speeding through corners and flying down the straights while giggling to himself.

For a while, you watch the new Red Bull finish more and more laps, being tested to its core.

When Max returns, your heart trembles in excitement.

As he steps out of the car, a wave of exhilaration emanates from him, visible in every movement and every gesture as he navigates the bustling garage with an air of confidence that is impossible to ignore.

The way he carries himself speaks volumes—a man at the top of his game, ready for another season and its challenges lying ahead.

With a huge smile plastered across his face, Max engages in animated conversations with the mechanics, his enthusiasm infectious as he shares his experience with the new car on track.

His eyes sparkle with excitement, a mirror of the joy that dances within his soul, as he makes his way toward you.

As Max draws near, his gaze locks onto yours, a magnetic pull that leaves you breathless in its wake.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into his embrace; his body presses firmly against yours, making sure to hold you close.

"How was it?" You ask, running a hand across his chest, tracing the letters written on his suit with your fingertips.

"So good." Max tries to hold back a soft moan. You're the only one who is meant to know how he feels right now.

He is completely enthralled by driving that car, with adrenaline and desire pumping through his veins—pure hedonism.

Unable to tear his gaze away, he drinks in the sight of you adorned in his team's merchandise, a proud smile gracing his lips as he adores the way the colors complement your features. 

With tenderness born of passion, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. Lost in the sweetness of his embrace, you melt against him, your heart beating on time with his as you savor the fleeting moments of intimacy amidst the hustle and bustle of the racing world.

Now, it's his Checo's turn to speed along the track, and the two of you decide to head back into Max's quarters.

Inside his motorhome, the air crackles with electricity as he peels off the upper half of his racing suit, revealing the snug fireproofs that hug his form like a second skin. Every movement seems amplified, every contour of his body is highlighted by the adrenaline coursing through every fiber of his body.

Max runs a hand across his thick chest, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric as he turns to face you, a confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he exudes an effortless charm that never fails to leave you breathless.

"I'm so hard right now," blurts out of his mouth as he grabs himself through his tight racing suit. Due to its color, it's barely able to hide the bulge forming inside his trousers. All of this excitement building up inside him is revealing his feelings for racing, but also for having you by his side.

"Do you feel that too?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his gaze locks with yours. 

In that moment, with the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, you feel a surge of desire unlike anything you have ever felt before.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you lean in, the distance between you evaporating as your lips meet in a fervent kiss.

"So much," you breathe into him. "I just need you so much." His muscles tense at your slightest touch. 

Teasing him, you trace the contours of his form, your fingers dancing across the expanse of his chest, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure from deep down within his throat. Pulling you close, he envelops you in his embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

The embrace grows tighter the more passionately you kiss each other. Both of you let your hands encompass each other's bodies, and with every little stroke and every soft touch, you give in to him more and more.

Your hand manages to slip underneath his tight shirt, feeling his warm skin and his firm muscles against your skin, giving you goosebumps.

At the same time, his hands are cupping your boobs, touching you firmly yet lovingly.

"Mhmm." You moan into him once more when he starts to grind his crotch against your thighs, making sure to let you feel his ever-growing length.

"Now?" Max's rough voice breaks as he tries to catch his breath. "I can't hold it in any longer."

His entire body is aching for relief, and he is asking you to help him find it. Your own is craving him as well, with all of you longing for him—the touch of his skin against yours, the whispered promises of unbridled passion and desire.

"Fuck." You growl once his hand slides in between the two of you and between your legs. "I need you." 

With one swift motion, he somehow manages to unbutton your jeans while you two make your way through the room. Unable to find the sofa in time, you end up with your back against the cold wall.

"Max." You let out a low groan while he keeps on kissing you, his hands now inside your pants, his fingers knowing his way around your body just like he knows the way around the different tracks. "It feels so good." 

Steadying yourself against his strong frame again, you stroke his chest and let your hand run down his body, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs through his shirt before you touch his member.

Easily, your hand slips into his racing suit and his fireproofs, touching him firmly.

Like you pushed the right buttons, Max leans his head back, one hand on his own chest, the other still inside your pants.

Your jeans slowly drop down to your ankles as he removes his hand, needing both of his hands to please himself.

"Y/N." He shudders, slowly regaining his composure, turning his head to face you again. His beautiful eyes are burning brightly, and their gaze threatens to smother you whole.

Effortlessly, you pull his dick out of his pants and fondle him for a while as he embraces you fully.

Max then leans in again, kissing you hard, this time much more possessive and determined to make you his.

Being so busy pleasing him, you don't even notice him pulling at your underwear, removing them just enough for him to fit inside you. Leaning back against the wall, you give in to him.

With a tender kiss, he slips inside your body, both of your minds shrouded by the blissful passion engulfing the two of you.

His groans, moans, and familiar smell make it easy for you to let him guide you further and further as he starts rocking his hips against yours.

Max is slowly increasing the strength and pace of his thrusts, with one of his hands pulling up your leg to make it easier for him. To steady yourself, you wrap one arm around his neck while the other strokes his chest firmly, encouraging him to keep going.

Your bodies are moving as one; Max's rhythm is easy for you to follow; and you enjoy how tight his body presses against yours.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach your limits, and simultaneously, you climax—a sensational feeling of shared desire and relief.

Max still holds you close, placing kisses all over your neck while you run a hand through his messy, sweaty hair.

"I needed that." He growls; his usual rough voice sounds much deeper, huskier, and smoother.

"Me too." Kissing him, you enjoy each other's embrace for a little while longer before he separates himself from you.

You help each other change clothes, replacing every article of clothing with a loving kiss, a gentle touch, and a shared smile.

Before it's time to leave the motorhome, you take one last look at Max's racing suit, now hanging in front of the cupboard door—a beautiful piece of art. You trace the letters of his name written on the waistline, knowing that he is yours after all.

Then, hands run along your waistline from behind, pulling you back into a warm hug.

"Thank you for being there for me, always." Max breathes into your ear, his chest tight against your back, just the way you like it.

"It's my pleasure." You reply, then turn around to look into his now soft face.

He is wearing the Red Bull shirt now—typical Max—but you wouldn't want it any other way. Stroking his chest again, you enjoy how tight his body still feels and how his clothes accentuate his form so well.

"I like that." Max lets out a guttural growl before smirking again. "It smells like you now." He blushes slightly.

"But it's mine once we're done here." You pinch his nipple playfully, causing him to giggle.

"Of course," he leans in, kissing you again before it's time to head to a team meeting.

[villain-enthusiast]

heyy i don’t have something specific in mind but can you please right something about a morally grey villain and a civilian. make it romantic and flirty and stuffff

Civilian was going to die.

The explosion from the bomb had obliterated half the bank within fractions of a second. The blast was far enough from their office that they weren't directly affected, but evacuating the actively crumbling building could easily kill them.

Rubble rained down as they desperately ran down the dusty hallway to the stairwell. Why did they have to be three stories up? Would they even get all the way down before the place collapsed?

Boom!

Civilian barely had time to react before they were thrown off their feet from the force of the blast that had detonated from the room beside them. Their back smacked into the opposite wall, pain and shock rippling through them as they hit the ground, rendering them helpless.

They couldn't move. This was it. They were going to—

"Oh, sweetheart."

Civilian jerked their head up to see someone standing over them, not a single speck of dust visible on their impeccable black clothes. Not the uniform of a co-worker or a rescue team member, Civilian realized with dismay.

The person crouched down in front of them, head tilted. "I could've sworn I got everyone out in time. I guess you're just a little elusive, huh?" They smirked and ruffled Civilian's hair, wildly playful considering the life-or-death situation they were in right now.

Wait.

The realization struck them like a brick to the head. “You set the bomb off,” they wheezed. “You’re Villain.”

Villain gave them a mock salute. “Nice to meet you too."

The floor wobbled dangerously and Civilian squeaked in fear, trying and failing to prop themselves up. "Please...please don't kill me," they blurted.

"Wow, who do you think I am?" Villain placed a hand on their chest in mock disbelief. "Eh, besides, you're too cute to murder. Or leave for dead,” Villain added as the building groaned, swaying on its foundations.

Civilian flushed, not sure if they should be flattered or absolutely terrified that their whole fucking workplace was about to collapse and that this bastard was trying to flirt with them—

Villain scooped Civilian up without warning, hoisting them into a bridal carry. They yelped in surprise as a block of cement crashed down onto the exact spot where they were laying just seconds ago.

“See?” Villain grinned at Civilian, bearing in close. “Too cute to leave behind.” Their face was near enough for Civilian’s eyes to flick down to their lips. Their grin widened in acknowledgment.

Villain turned abruptly and ran down the hallway towards the stairs, throwing the door open. Three flights down stared back, seeming infinitely long, too long.

But Villain was still smiling like they were gonna make it out of the bank on time. They looked down at Civilian, who had unconsciously fisted their hands into the lapels of Villain’s jacket.

“Yeah, just like that,” Villain said, winking at Civilian.

Civilian blinked, their mind flailing for footing. Just like what—

“Hold tight!” Villain whooped, and instead of booking it down the steps, they jumped onto the railing and slid down, handless.

Holy fucking shit. Civilian squeezed their eyes shut and held on so tight onto Villain’s jacket, stomach lurching. If the bombs didn’t take them out, then this would definitely—

They felt the Villain jump onto solid ground before they could even finish their thought. Oh.

“Aren’t you a scaredy-cat,” Villain teased, that shit-eating, infuriatingly charming grin back on their face. “Ever been on a roller coaster before?”

“No, I’ve never had fun in my life before, actually,” Civilian snapped back sarcastically.

“Hm,” Villain made their way out of the stairwell, casually walking towards the entrance as if the bank wasn’t crumbling around them. “Well, they’ve been saying amusement park dates are all the rage. Maybe this is my sign to take you out.”

Civilian fumbled for a response. Why was this criminal so good at rendering them speechless?

“You’re not saying no…” Villain murmured, exiting the building seconds before it promptly collapsed, throwing onlookers into chaos and allowing them to blend in with the crowd. The timing was almost comedic.

They slipped into an empty alley, Civilian still in their arms.

“I’m not putting you down until you say yes,” Villain urged, eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Civilian, despite themselves, rolled their eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be a bad guy? What happened to ‘Now I take you back to my spooky dark lair and lock you up and torture you until Hero comes and I fight them to the death’?”

Villain smiled, but it was warmer, more genuine this time. “I guess I prefer it when people look at my lips and clearly want to kiss me instead of looking at me like I’m a monster.”

Civilian paused, dissecting the layers of that statement before—damn them—glancing again at Villain’s perfectly kissable mouth.

Villain ran their tongue over their bottom lip, clearly toying with Civilian, but fuck, it was working.

It was the nearing wail of police sirens that shook them out of their trance. They groaned, stupefied at how they almost fell for the person who just blew up their workplace. “Please put me down.”

“And here I thought I almost had you.” Villain sighed and set Civilian down on the ground. “Unfortunately, the authorities tend to annoy me a bit, so this is where I take my leave. It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” They bowed to Civilian and began to make their way down the alleyway.

Fuck, the way the nickname made Civilian’s stomach flutter. Fuck fuck fuck— “Disneyland, this Friday, 10 AM,” they blurted.

Villain stopped in their tracks, and although they didn’t turn around. Civilian could feel that stupid little smirk on their face.

“See you then.” Then they disappeared around the corner.

As it turns out, roller coasters really weren’t so bad when you have someone doing it with you.

[starlightsuffered]

Be Professional (The End)

Warning - Smut, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, breaking machinery, no more cocky timo

I had been avoiding Timothée like the plague since his little confession. I was trying desperately to work out my feelings. I missed the sex, a lot, however, I also found, I missed him.

I missed his stupid guffaw of a laugh. I missed the way he actually said interesting things in interviews. I missed his jokes, even if most of them annoyed me. Why did I feel like this? I was supposed to hate him. He was a rival, a rival that was good at fucking, but I wasn't supposed to fall. Arg the stupid idiot had confused me so much ! didn't know what made sense anymore.

My friend was unhelpful as shit. She suggested giving him an apology blow job and just start dating him. I couldn't do that.

Timothée had been different since that night. He was no longer jovial and cheeky, he was solemn and serious.

He used to be so social, almost over the top social. He now preferred to eat in his trailer instead of with us. He was gone the moment he was allowed to be. He didn't talk unless directly spoken to, and he only smiled if he knew it would be a bad look to frown. He was......Professional.

How had I had such an affect on him? After all, I was some nobody. He'd literally asked why I was on this project at all.

It was one of the last days of our press tour, and we were walking in silence back to the hotel. These were the times I hated the most. The director always sent us back to the hotel together, hoping to ramp up excitement for the movie by our picture being taken together. It was always an awkward and silent journey. He never even looked my way.

We got into the elevator, and he pressed the number for our floor. The elevator ran smoothly for a second then it shuddered. I grabbed out to Timothée without thinking as lights flickered. We came to a slamming halt. The doors opened an inch, but there was solid wall peeking between them. A red emergency light was all that lit the area, washing us in scarlet. The elevator was stuck.

"What the hell," I said worriedly as I pressed the button for our floor over and over.

"I don't think that's going to work," Timothée said.

"Would you shut up," I ground out. I looked at my phone, of course, no signal.

"We'll probably have to wait it out. I pressed the emergency button," he said calmly. I gave him a look of wonderment.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" I demanded, and he shrugged.

"Urrrg you are so irritating," | snapped.

"

"Maybe I am, but this time you can't fuck me about it, so maybe we should talk like adults," Timothée retorted.

"Adults?" I demanded. "Now you want to be adults? You were the one always acting like a goof ball on set, you were the one always touching me and winding me up, and you're the one who initiated the whole sex thing in the first place. So don't tell me I need to act like an adult!"

"Did you ever consider why I did those things?" He asked, running a hand through his curls in frustration.

"Because you're an asshole celebrity who can get away with anything?"

"Because I fucking liked you," he said as though it were obvious.

"You what?" I asked softly.

"I was yours from the second you walked up to me and yelled at me," he confessed, and my back thudded against the wall as I took in the information. "I wasn't even asking the director what you thought | was. I was asking if you had any history in the industry because I know your first movie can be scary. I was trying to see how I could help you."

"You were?" | asked.

"Yes, but then you thought was a jerk and you weren't backing down. The only way I could get your attention was to rile you up."

"Timothée, stop," | said, feeling too much pressure building in me.

卩

"No, I won't, I want to be with you y/n, I want to spoil you, and fuck you, nicely, and kiss you, and not worry about who sees hickeys on our necks because they know we're crazy about each other. Why are you so afraid of this?"

"Because you're you," I whispered, eyes squeezed shut.

"What does that mean?" He asked.

"You are the Timothée Chalamet. You were in Dune, Willy Wonka, Little Women, Call Me By Your Name, fucking game changing movies!"

"So you do know some of my movies," he chuckled. I opened my eyes and looked at him. His eyes were large and pleading, his curls awry from his fidgety hands. He was so beautiful it nearly hurt.

"I don't want people to say I fucked my way to the top. I've worked too hard for this. That's why you always annoyed me so much. One wrong move and I could lose my dream forever. You could do anything you wanted and they wouldn't care. Even if you had been telling the director that he made a bad casting decision, it wouldn't matter, you'd still be there the next day."

I couldn't look at his fallen expression anymore so I sunk to the floor and talked to it instead.

"You piss me off because I wasn't supposed to like you this much. I was also being unprofessional because I knew I wanted you. I've never had feelings this strong, good or bad, in my entire life, and they're all attached to you. It scares the shit out of me."

He was sliding down to the floor too. He took my hands in his and my lip trembled. He was holding me so gently.

He had never held me gently like this before.

"I have crazy strong feelings for you too, and I really don't want to ignore them. However, I one hundred percent get where you're coming from. It'll be hard, but I'll back off if you say this isn't a sacrifice you can make for me."

I looked up into his eyes. They were mixed with equal parts hope and dread. I wanted to give him hope, but could I?

Just then the doors shut. The lights flickered back on and we were moving. He helped me up as we finally got to our floor. We were greeted by a team of workers who were all apologies. I could barely take it all in, it was sensory overload after what had just happened. Timothée turned on the charm and led us through the crowd.

Finally, we were at our doors. Timothée turned to me, I still hadn't given him an answer. Would I be okay leaving things here? I pictured my life after this moment. I'd cry myself to sleep, wake up the next day and try not to look at or think about Timothée. Then we'd go out separate ways. I wouldn't see him again. I wouldn't hold him again, wouldn't hear one of his cheesy jokes again, wouldn't kiss him again, would never have him inside me again. Could I do it?

"Do you have your room key?" he said.

"Yes," | replied, turning towards him.

"Well are you going to go into your room?" He asked.

"No."

"Why?" He breathed.

"I'll tell you why Chalamet," | said with a wild grin. I saw his eyes sparkle with hope.

"Why?" He asked again.

"Because you," I said, walking to him and placing my hands on his chest. "Are the best l've ever had, and also, totally worth it."

His smile nearly split his face in two as he grabbed my face to kiss me. I was beaming into the kiss. He broke it off with a joyous laugh, and picked me up and spun me around. I was laughing now too, heart full and content.

He struggled with the door because he wouldn't stop kissing me for even a moment. When we got in the room he carried me to the bed. His lips must have connected with every part of my bare skin. I was sighing with happiness as I felt my boys lips. MY boy.

"Come here you," I said pulling his face to mine for a long kiss.

"I'm obsessed with you," he said earnestly.

"Same here," | beamed back.

"First things first," he said and his lips went to my neck. He sucked the skin into his mouth. His hands went under my shirt to brush as my nipples as he suckled. I moaned.

"There we go," he said smiling at his work.

"Does it look good?" I asked, pretending to pose with my neck exposed.

"Almost as beautiful as you" he said, and my stomach flipped at the words. I bit my lip, and he leaned down to kiss me. The kiss was slow and passionate. I did take his lip between my teeth, but it was a gentle nibble, opposed to the harsh teeth I'd used to use on him.

He sat up and took off his shirt. I let my hands lovingly caress his abdomen. His eyes fluttered shut.

"Do you know how long l've wanted you to touch me like this," he asked in a near whisper.

"Too long," | answered, and he nodded. He began to unbutton my shirt. He was moving carefully, as if scared I'd run away from him. I wasn't going anywhere. He got my shirt off and kissed my stomach.

"You have got to be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said. He unlatched my bra and threw it to the ground. He took a second to look at me before he was flattening his tongue against my nipples.

"Oh, Timothée," I sighed.

"That's it," he said. "That's how I wanted to hear you say my name this whole time."

"My Timothée," | breathed, as he began to work on my nipples again.

I felt him undo the button of my pants. I helped him get them off me. He kissed his way down my body, and took my underwear in his mouth. He dragged them down as I watched him avidly.

"I'm going to worship your pussy," he promised as he dove in. He lapped between my folds. I grabbed his curls, and he moaned into me. I didn't pull as hard as I normally did, just enough to please him.

"Fuck, right there, so good," | moaned as his tongue circled my clit before landing on it. His licks were long and loving, and the way he gripped my thighs with a gentle strength made me weak. Sure I liked being marked up, but l liked this better.

"I'm so close," | admitted. He switched up the direction of his tongue and I curled my toes. I panted as he continued. Finally, I was calling his name as I came undone.

Timothée's head emerged, face shiny with my juices, and a smile on his face.

"I always wanted to ask if you really feel as good as you sound?" He said.

"Yes, absolutely, you are a God with that tongue of yours," I said.

"Well, it's only for you," he winked.

"Better be," I said. "Now please take off your pants."

"Eager are we?" He chuckled.

"Yes, I'm addicted to your cock," I said, it was my turn to wink as I brought up his old words.

"That whole cocky thing was an act. My heart was going a mile a minute hoping you wouldn't think I was repulsive. It seemed like it was the only way you'd interact with me, so I put it on."

"That is adorable," | said truthfully. "But I wasn't lying, I am addicted."

"Fuck," Timothée said with a shudder.

He quickly took off his pants, his cock springing from his boxers. I knew he hadn't intended for me to help him, but I moved fast. My mouth was around his length in seconds.

"Ugh, baby," he groaned, and the pet name spurred me on. I bobbed my head, taking all of him I could into my throat.

"Fuck, so good, so good," he panted.

"Stop," he said, pulling me off. "I need to cum inside you, please."

"Absolutely," | agreed, and pulled him down on me. He kissed me long and hard before lining himself up with

me.

"You ready?" He asked, I bit my lip and nodded. He pushed into me.

"Merde," Timothée cursed, head dipping into my neck as pleasure over took him.

"You feel so good," I told him. He began to thrust. It wasn't fast, but it was deep and powerful, each movement hitting me in my sweet spot.

"Ah, ah," I moaned. "Fuck, Timothée, you're so good, you're so pretty, you fuck me so well."

I was whining, making the sounds l'd always wanted to make for him before. He seemed to be loving my vocalness. He was kissing me heatedly, as he swallowed my whimpers.

He reached down to knead my breasts as he fucked me. He was hitting me so deep it seemed impossible.

"I'm so close," He told me.

"Me too," I whined.

"Look at me when you come please," he begged. I could only nod, completely lost to pleasure as he his hips snapped forward. I locked my legs around his waist, wanting him deeper. I wanted to be one with him.

"Oh, Timothée, I'm gonna come," I moaned and I looked into his eyes as the best orgasm l'd ever experienced washed over me. Wave after wave of bliss was hitting me, so that I was nearly convulsing as I called his name. He came soon after me, cumming ropes of cum inside me, keeping his eyes on mine.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he confessed as he pressed his forehead against mine.

"You're not the only one Chalamet," I teased.

After hours of talking, I fell asleep in Timothée's arms. I was awoken by the ring of my phone. It was our director.

Timmy's eyes opened groggily as I answered. He smiled sweetly at me.

"Hello?" | croaked.

"You guys did it haha, the story about you two getting stuck in an elevator is everywhere!" He cheered.

"Yes, well, we make quite the team," I said smiling at Timothée. Then I hung up so I could kiss my boyfriend.

[dailyadventureprompts]

DM Tip: Creating a Campaign Skeleton

Learning to be a better dungeonmaster was a protracted process. A younger me was often so stressed out by the desire to be a better artist that I'd have legitimately mauled a person if it would've revealed to me the wisdom I sought (with my hands or even an actual maul given the chance).

One of my biggest hurdles was the idea of a universal framework for d&d adventures, a guideline that would tell me if the things I was creating were on the right track. It was sorely needed, I loved the process of being creative but without an understanding of how my creative energy was best used I ended up sinking days, weeks, or even months worth of energy into projects that went nowhere. Worse yet, when I DID get a chance to put my ideas into practice at the table they'd frequently spiral out of control and crash, resulting in even more stress.

Over time I learned from these mistakes, I got better, and then I got good. I moved from conscious incompetence to competence, and I ended up having a run of absolutely stellar campaigns that were everything my younger self could have dreamed of: stable, enjoyable, meaningful, and most importantly an absolute delight to my players. Routinely I'd have people, including folks that'd only played with me a few times, mention that getting together to roll dice and listen to me babel on in silly voices was a highlight of their week.

It was as one of these campaigns began to wind down (three years! a satisfying conclusion on the horizon!) and I started looking for a followup scenario that I decided to study all my really successful campaigns and figure out what connected them. The end result was something I'd been looking for for nearly a decade, a reliable format that I could build campaigns around.

I want to preface this section with the understanding that while this information is laid out in a vaguely chronological fashion there's no guarantee that these ideas will occur to you in any particular order. Inspiration is a funny thing, and each idea flows into the others to make a cohesive whole. Due to foreshadowing and setup reasons you're also going to need a pretty solid idea about all of these when starting a campaign, though exact details will likely change/ can be vague up until the moment they're needed.

The Reason: Who are we and what are we doing?

Gives your players a solid background to build their characters around and give them a reason to travel together, rather than having to ad lib one on the spot. Likewise sets expectations of what the campaign is "about" that you can build on or subvert in time. The reason doesn't need to hold true for the entire game, just long enough to serve as a framing device. EG: The Witcher starts out as a "monster of the week" setup and then uses that framework to pivot into politics and prophecy once we've seen the premise play out.

The Pilot/Crashtest Adventure: What's first?

I’ve already written about these, but the general concept is to give your party a mostly contained first outing that doesn’t have any larger bearing on the plot so they can focus on learning how their characters play/building the party dynamic.  By the time the party's finished this first adventure they'll have already started putting down roots in the world: they'll have in jokes, npcs they've started to care about, an understanding of what's on the horizon, and an idea of where they want to go next.

The Central Gameplay Pillar: How does this all work?

It's important to have an idea what your campaign is going to be about in a mechanical sense in addition to its plot and themes. There is a difference between an adventure that has the party delve a dungeon, and a dungeoncrawling focused campaign. I like to lead with these outright during the campaign pitch so that players can know what they're getting into. Your playgroup will likely have strong opinions about what they like and dislike, even if they don't have the words to describe it, so you might need to explain the ideas for them.

The Hub: Where are we?

I think every good campaign has a hub, some kind of settlement that the party returns to between adventures to offload loot, pick up supplies, and sift through the latest gossip to look for the next questhook. Letting the party return to the same place lets them build up a relationship with it, clarifying the picture in their mind as new details are added and they grow more and more attached. It's possible to have multiple hubs over the course of a campaign, but I'd advise really only having one per arc to best concentrate your efforts. Fill up your hub with distractions and side adventures, shorter stories that the party can get tangled up in while the larger adventure slowly reveals itself. Returning to the same hub also means returning to a familiar and expanding cast of NPCs, which helps your party become more and more invested in the setting

The Main Event: What's going to happen?

Here we get to the meat of the issue, the big story you want to be telling using this campaign. To pull off the sick narrative kickflip you wish to perform, you're going to need to lay a lot of groundwork, seeding in details left and right as well as giving the party a chance to stumble across evidence of your schemes without ever realizing the whole thing. To do this, you're going to work in the building blocks of your big reveal/twist/pending disaster into the setting along with those side adventures from the hub. This will give your party an idea that something is going on, but with more pressing matters to take care of they're going to be distracted up until the moment you decide to pull the trigger.

The Setting: What's over there?

While things like genre and tone are definitely things you should have a handle on from the outset, I personally feel like the details of a setting are best constructed on an ad hoc basis, either in a direct response to something required by part of the narrative (be it side story or main event), or pencilled in at the margins as the party explores the world.. That said, creation of the hub and setting often go hand in hand because it's important to match the settlement to the environment and then shape the environment to the quests inside the settlement. As for what's beyond your hub, I happen to have just written something about building out settings.

Now, this next option is one that I recommend you start thinking about only once your campaign is fully underway, so it doesn't clog up your creative process by focusing on something that you might not even get to

The Change: What the fuck?

A little while after the main event has kicked off and your party is off on the quest that will turn them from mere adventurers into heroes, they start to hear rumours of strange happenings. It's certainly not related to the present scenario, it may even be an unexpected windfall, but it's not something they have time to look into. Time ticks on, the land is saved, and the party is able to enjoy their victory lap as well as some dearly needed time off. Before they can get comfortable however they're slammed by some strange occurrence that they could have never predicted that changes the state of the world. A neighbouring kingdom invades, an important ally is murdered and they're blamed for it, a dragon starts rampaging through the realm. Its important that this event is outside the party's skillset, not necessarily diametrically opposed, but counter to what they were planning

artsource

[chaosandmarigolds]

you can skip this all u want but

I wanna know abt readers ex ngl

why does Ollie have attachment issues?

you seem like you could do soft angst, 👻

(I audibly giggled like a maniac when I opened this, because angst has my heart. it has my HEART- only when it ends in fluff tho, otherwise someone might as well just shove me in a ditch it feels the same- ahem, sorry, got sidetracked)

Let’s do a lil flashback and backstory to this whole…debacle shall we?

May 20th

“Annnn then we got get- got get, noo-no! Ister Riley no,” Ollie grumbles as he reaches over the block castle he had spent the last twenty minutes building to grab the toy Simon was holding- a tyrannosaurus, or as Ollie called him- The Superman. The little boy fixes the doll cape attached to the toy and then holds it back out, “Otay, is fix.”

Simon nods, “Good good, he needs to have his-his-“

“The cape gives him powers.”

“Oh!” Simon agrees and looks at the worn out toy, the cape like it would be found on an actual Superman toy but put on a dinosaur. He only looks back to Ollie as the boy goes on about grabbing the rest of the toys he thought they should have.

“Yeah, that what my daddy tell me. That-that my superhero cape make me have superpowers.” A short silence and he sets the toy fire truck down along with a tow truck, “It no give me power, but it does for Bo though.”

(Bo, the name of the T-Rex.)

Simon looks at the boy, watching his demeanor change and he holds how the toy, “‘ell your dad was right, Bo does have some super cool powers.”

To that Ollie takes the toy and then shrugs, “I guess. But my dad- he-he lies and you say lying is not good.”

“Ladd I’m sure your dad didn’t lie,” Simon returned, it was just a toy, and he couldn’t see the harm in letting a three year old believe in superpowers for his plastic T-Rex.

Ollie shakes his head, “But he do! He said he come back for-for my birthday and no come, he didn’t-he lie.”

“Oi, Olls, ‘m sure your dad wanted to come, he just couldn’t-

“My mom doesn’t like him anymore, I heard her talk to my Auntie Beth and she said my dad is lair and mean- so that mean he not good.”

Simon, upon a lot of other things, realized that little kids really did share anything that came to their mind. and that he should definitely do some more research.

July 2nd

“It is-“ you laugh out a sigh as you stumble into the entrance of Simon’s house, having left your umbrella outside, “Raining cats and dogs out there!”

Almost as it had fallen into some odd and domestic pattern, he helped you take off the coat and hang it off without much speaking and you then look to him as you take off your boots, “Thank you for watching him later, I didn’t know I would be working a double and it-“

“No problem, darling. Lil’ guy was out by seven.” He cut you off and hung up the coat beside Ollie’s on the rack, which hung beside his own, “You go’ dinner al’eady?”

You hum and stand back up, “Are you offering?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Dinner was a delicacy of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and oven cooked fries, matched with a hearty portion of sprite. And about an hour of what you would consider you yapping about your crappy day, and what he would consider it favorite part of the day- you finally faltered, leaning on the dinner table with a dull and lifeless laugh.

“I feel like…I owe you, god, I owe you my life or something.”

He furrows his eyebrows to that, “No’ why? ‘M no doing anything special.”

You give him a look, “Free babysitting for one. Not to mention the rides, you-you pay for him to go to soccer, and you go to the games and you buy him clothes and you love him and you care for him and-“ you cut yourself off and look up to stop the tears- which were threatening to flow, shaking your head, “I’m sorry. I’m…it’s just- no, it’s just been a day.”

Now, Simon was many things, a merciless killer and a solider was one of them but he always knew how to read body language. What really gave it away was how you messed with your ring finger, as if you were twisting a nonexistent ring, “What’s today?”

A glance up to him and you give a dull laugh, almost mocking yourself with your words, “I got married five years ago today. Wore the pretty dress and said ‘I do’ to a man that was a piece of shit but damn….i loved him. I did. I loved him so- and I’m, god, Simon you gotta tell me to shut up sometimes.”

He looks at you, and he knew you couldn’t read him, but there was sadness etched in his expression, “I never want you to shut up, luv.”

( That’s all the backstory you get for right now! Aka, I am doing this on my phone and my thumbs hurt…and all I’ve thought of rn- comments, feedback, and your ideas make my day!! Annnnyway that’s it! <33)

[itsnothingofinterest]

I think the thing that ultimately gets me about how Deku has supposedly inspired away everything that'd lead to more Tenkos turning into Tomuras is...just "why?" Like, why did this:

Happen differently this time? I mean that's a fair question to ask, isn't it? The Walk was effectively the true inciting incident for Tomura, leader of the League, to hate hero society; you'd want a really solid answer as to why that won't happen again I would think.

The narration from Hawks and accompanying imagery implies it's because Deku inspired folks to not sit on the sidelines anymore, further implied to be a Hero Society-wide effect Deku has had that'll supposedly eliminate the bystander effect that led us here and give heroes more free time.

But like...Why is that different from what we've seen of heroes before now? All Might was around for 40 years and Deku, in the end, didn't really do anything AM didn't do; he punched out the big bad for the world to see. And All Might did also inspire people like the origin trio to action...by becoming heroes. Yet civilians like the old lady were inspired to go about her day because a hero would handle it, while Deku inspired her to reach out a hand herself. Why?

I've heard some suggest it's because Deku was less independent, had more of a teamwork focus in his big moment. But I’ve said this before, I think those people assume All Might was a lot more independent than he really was, and Deku a lot less. I mean a lot of Deku's fight was broadcast, including big portions where he was fighting the big bad solo just like All Might in Kamino. And then both fights ended with more heroes coming in to lend support.

So I'm just not seeing why public effect is so radically different.

And it's just that, I have been waiting to see what would prevent more Tomuras from crawling out of the woodworks to destroy even more since MVA; what measures would be taken to prevent that? Perhaps Tomura would destroy hero society, not just its buildings but its corrupt ideals, leadership, & figureheads; and maybe when he was beaten there would be room to rebuild it better from scratch? No, he didn't really destroy much at all actually, and things are being rebuilt just as they were. Would Deku and Tomura perhaps team up going forward after he's saved; with the latter's eyes for what's wrong in the world and the former's ability to fix it without violence? No, Deku kills Tomura because he was just too unforgivable, it's implied he was just after a tasteful way to do that the whole fight. Well, would Deku at least listen to what drove Tomura to villainy and do something about any of that? Nope, if it wasn't his final words to Spinner or their talk about hand holding, it was in one ear and out the other for Deku; and there's no sign he's told many people what little he did learn.

So what saves the Teknos of the world? Well Deku kills the big bad on live TV and it's really inspiring. Why is that different from the past 40 years? ...Horikoshi is to burnt out to answer. That's the ultimate answer to the question I've been asking for nearly 200 chapters.

Well I guess I always knew that if Deku couldn't save Tomura, it'd mean he couldn't save anyone like him. And well, he didn't save Tomura. It's why this plot point of "but they get saved anyway" rings so hollow; it's unearned, unfair, unrealistic, and outright contrived & unbelievable as things have been set-up. I just cannot believe it would work out this way; it is honestly 100 times more believable to suppose the old lady was a guilt-fuelled one-off and most Tenkos will die in the streets or turn to villainy. Especially once this "the villain is dead" high has passed. Because as it is; this resolution as-presented feels as reasonable as our finale in chapter 430 suggesting Deku was so inspirational that no one was ever a villain again either.

[plutosfallenangel]

Random Moon Sign Observations | pt.II

(*based on personal experiences and opinions. look at the whole natal chart to gain complete insight, some aspects/house placements can make contradictions to the below information*)

• Scorpio Moon •

-always watching, taking it all in..

-knows most of the answers to questions before they ask

-dry humor (which I personally love)

-passionate about whatever they put their mind to, no half or 50% effort (they do have to be emotionally bonded to the person or hobbie/task, if not, they're redirecting their energy elsewhere)

-prone to becoming hyperfocused on one specific thing (most times to their detriment)

-mommy issues (but they don't talk about them, and hate when you assume you know the relationship dynamic, it's a very unique relationship dynamic and overtime it can grow to be stronger or more distant)

-deep conversations if they trust you, which is hard to gain. Trust is earned through sacrifice most times.. even if something small, they need to see you prove your loyalty and trust)

-the one I would call to bury a body (jokes pls)

-doesn't like to make assumptions, uses their earned knowledge on human behavior, they will study those around them like a case study, only to come to their own conclusions after seeing all the "facts". They can be extremely patient in this act too... they want to know you from the inside out

-sensitive to shifts in the mood, but again.. most times they will keep this information inside and watch, study you to see why it shifted

• Sagittarius moon •

-life of the party (unless heavy earth placements, bedtime comes sooner than later especially with age)

-will be the one you can call to come help you get your car stuck out of the mud, or go biking in the backwoods.. just down for anything and personally I love that about them

-can be too concerned about keeping the good times rolling, doesn't always directly express emotions.. but it's more like a dark joke, everything is turned into a joke, you just need to decipher it most times. And if it's not turned into a joke, they will laugh after they tell you horrible news. Imo a defense mechanism

-may lack boundaries when it comes to those they connect with emotionally, this isn't always a bad thing, they're coming from a place of exploration... like "how far can you and I go?" However sometimes I find they are the most capable of staying in bad situations, always trying to see the good in everyone

-can start a campfire with their bare hands, or atleast minimal tools, very attracted to fire.. find them near a fire all year round if its possible for them to do so

-can sometimes be sneakier than Scorpio moons.. when they set their eye on something in the distance that they want, they go about it most times in silence (this does depend on which house the moon is in)

-big lovers, big emotions, and larger than life dreams

-facial expressions for DAYS! I love how expressive they are.. warm smiles

-definitely rebellious in their younger years

-doesn't like to be tied down by family, but can adapt (most often moves away from mother)

• Capricorn moon •

- lives by the work hard, play harder motto

-always learns the hard way, doesn't like to take advice, rather learn through experience

-tells you like it is when you ask for relationship advice

-too many responsibilities when they were young, even if they had a good solid foundation growing up and were provided for, the expectations put on them were very heavy

-its never "how are you feeling", more "do you need anything?" and I love them for it

-happiest when they're putting themselves into something they can build on long-term, when they don't have that they can spiral FAST

-these people can drink.. and when I say drink, they're the ones to clear a 12-pack and act like they're still sober (from my experience lol)

-in my experience is much of a mommy's girl/boy as cancer moons are (esp when they're young.. they always want to take care of their mom)

-very in tune with the weather, I notice they most times have allergies or can feel a storm coming from how their body reacts

-big provider energy, but they can feel like they can't accept help from others, and end up toughing out the storm by themselves.. this is often from early childhood experiences that breed the need for extreme independence in some form

• Aquarius moon •

-they are on their own energetic wavelengths together, all aqua moons come here for a very specific reason that aligns with what society needs to be shifted/changed.. no matter how big or small the reputation they have they make an impact on those around them. Most are well-known in their local community

-big futures/big dreamers.. these people can see themselves 10 years down the road when you ask them where they'll be, they might not have a CLUE how to get there (depending on the rest of the chart) but they'll always have a sense of direction intuitively on how to get there

-can become way too overanalyzing of their own feelings and that of others.. over thinkers. They can have a hard time reading emotional encounters in the moment.. they need some time to brew with it, read into it, and for them it's easy to sit with these memories of emotion because aqua is a fixed sign

-there is an inner hermit that exists within all of them, do NOT disturb them during their hermit hours

-doesn't give much energy out to people who do them wrong, or atleast out loud to others. They love to share stories about other people, but aren't the first ones to bring up drama when it happens

-their mom is supportive of their endeavors and always wishes the best for them.. I've never met an aqua moon that didn't have a supportive mom (again this does depend on the whole chart, esp 12H moons)

-naturally creative, most I know are very passionate about creative projects and can easily bury themselves in one for long periods of time

-most times they hate having to cancel plans, not because they dont want to go, it's because they hate feeling like they let someone down

-if they invite you to their house, they will make sure you feel at home

-big social circles, few close friends that understand them

-loves to share their viewpoints, but can have bad memories lol they tend to "misplace" memories, you never know what will trigger an old forgotten memory to come up only to dissappear again

-very smart, loves YouTube videos, emotional comfort documentaries

• Pisces Moon •

-can become their mothers "mother" in a sense, their mom might rely on them a lot

-doesnt mind crying infront of others, and for me I admire this... let it out!! There's NO shame in it! (Just don't do it to manipulate others obv)

-vivid imagination, lucid dreamers, I have a 12H moon and often find myself bonding over dream stories with them

-doesn't mind disappearing until they feel up to being social, just don't forget to check in on them, they love compassion

-i often see when they share their emotions and unfortunate stories with others that it causes them to open up too, they love to hold emotional space for people especially those closest

-can often feel the "blame" from others even if it's not theirs, they can feel like they're always doing something wrong or someone is upset and it is because of them, which is most often not the case

-will decorate with a lot of pastels or a wide variety of colors in their home

-the best mentors in their life are women

-journals, journals, journals... let me into your mind palace

-soft poets, or amateur artists, this moon sign expresses a lot of emotion through art. Art helps them put a finger on how they're feeling. They channel divine messages and emotions through a craft, and even if it's not their own art they are connecting with, they will resonate with it and pass a message along to others that helps them understand something they need to at the time

-either early bedtime or no bedtime at all, creature of the night or morning star.. there's no in between with them

-being alone helps them process the most. Especially the shower lol they can process days worth of emotions in the shower I'm convinced