#<- ​why is that a tag and why is it amazing

[rokonrrc2]

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this is so bad but i permanently cropped the file so brutally that i can no longer edit it. whoops! also panels 4-7 were fully coloured but it looks better without for some reason. pomni (penny?) is such an ugly crier. i love my horrible failgirl accountant

[dollishmehrayan]

# HOW BATBOYS REACT TO YOU WEARING THEY'RE COLOR ── .✦ ( eg. nails, clothes, anything ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so I first did a small idea of this (here) and then I thought why not do it based off this anon (here) so yeahh, anyways I kinda fell so off course like genuinely I need to make more batboys content, tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick notices instantly. He’s hyper-aware of the blue.

“Wait, are those nails painted Nightwing blue? Babe, did you do that for me?” Cue the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

Compliments you non-stop. He’s not subtle about how much he loves it.

“You’re really pulling off my color, you know. Almost makes me think you’re trying to steal my spotlight.”

Gets extra touchy holding your hand, brushing your hair back, etc. “You’re so cute I can’t even deal right now.”, “It’s just blue and black colored nails dick.”

If it’s a clothing piece, he’ll joke, “Matching outfits for day? Say the word, and we’ll be Gotham’s most fashionable duo.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason notices but plays it cool at first. “Nice color choice,” he says casually, though he’s dying and resurrecting inside.

If it’s your nails “You’re carrying my whole brand on those hands. Should I start paying you royalties?”

If it’s clothing, “Careful, babe, wearing red this well might make you a target and you might be mistaken for me.” But his smirk shows he’s all for it.

Low-key proud you’re repping his colors but doesn’t know how to express it well. Might just stare a little longer than usual.

Ends up pulling you closer while murmuring, “You look good in my color. Too good.”

Secretly starts thinking of ways to return the gesture, like wearing something in your favorite color. (He’s hoping it’s not absurd neon colors😭)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Blushes immediately. He’s not even subtle about it. “Wait… is that red because of… me?”

Obsesses over the details. “Did you match your nails to the exact shade of my suit? That’s, like, the coolest thing ever.”

Super flustered but also unbelievably touched. “I didn’t know you liked my colors that much.”

If it’s a clothing item, he’d be stunned for a moment before saying, “You look so… wow. You’re killing it.”

Gets a little shy but can’t stop glancing at you all day. Ends up fiddling with your hand if it’s your nails.

Might text you later "Thanks for making my day with that. You didn’t have to, but I really, really loved it.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Notices instantly but acts unimpressed. “Hmph. So you’re inspired by me today?”

Low-key thrilled but refuses to let you know. If it’s your nails, he might sarcastically say, “Subtle.” But he’s secretly staring.

If it’s clothing, “Green suits you. Perhaps you should wear it more often.” It’s his way of saying you look amazing.

After some time, he’ll let his walls down. “It’s not awful… You look better in my colors than I do.”

Will absolutely brag to Alfred or the others about it later. “Clearly, they understand quality when they see it.”

Ends up gifting you something else in his colors—maybe a scarf or bracelet—just to see you wear it again.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce notices immediately but doesn’t say much at first. He’ll just give you that classic Bruce Wayne smirk.

If it’s clothing, he’ll subtly comment, “You look good in black. Suits you.” (High praise from him)

If it’s nails, he’ll gently take your hand and examine them. “Interesting choice. Are you sending a message, or…?”

Deep down, he’s really touched but doesn’t know how to express it. Might make a dry joke like, “So you’re my sidekick now?”

Later, when you’re alone, he’d admit, “It’s nice seeing you in something that reminds me of… us.”

Low-key loves the idea of you wearing his colors often. He’d never say it outright, but his actions like buying you more black and yellow pieces make it clear (to a point half your dresses were either black or yellow even you’re gold jewelry has yellow hints and accents😭😭)

[enderlovez]

can you write Spencer Reid and his secret girlfriend that's a nurse/doctor, when the team comes back from a mission and reid is injured they all go to the hospital and they see them two flirting and figure it out

(sorry idk how to phrase it)

also can you tag me when it's out?

Kiss It Better

Spencer Reid x Nurse Reader

WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: Spencer gets injured on a case. Imagine his team's surprise when they come to see him and find his nurse flirting with him.

Content Warning: hospitals, Spencer got hurt on a case, probably a whole lot of medical inaccuracies, stitches and needles

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer sits on the edge of the hospital bed, his button-up shirt and cardigan draped over the back of a chair, leaving his undershirt rolled up past his elbow. His thighs are parted so you can stand between them, cleaning the small gash on his arm, your gloved fingers brushing over his skin with the gentlest touch.

"You know," you begin, your tone lightly teasing, "for someone with your IQ, you're really bad at stay out of trouble."

Spencer chuckles softly, though his ears turn a shade of pink. "It's not exactly something I plan for," he defends quietly, good arm wrapped loosely around your waist. "Besides, statistically, my injury rate is relatively low for the kind of work I do."

You glance up at him, a brow raised. "Spencer, you've been here three times in the last two months. At this rate, I should really just set up a reserved bed for you."

"Maybe I just like the company," he quips, and now it's your turn to blush slightly.

"Flirting isn't gonna get you out of a lecture about taking better care of yourself," you reply, tying off the final stitch and cutting the rest of the thread off. "There we are. Good as new."

Spencer watches as you peel off your gloves and toss them into the bin. Everything you do seems to catch him off guard, even after months of... well, whatever this thing between you two has become.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmurs.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "I just stitched up a cut. Pretty sure that doesn't qualify as amazing."

"To me, it does," he counters, his gaze soft as he watches you walk around the room. "You're brilliant and kind and—"

"—And wondering why you're still sitting here," you cut him off with a grin, moving back to your previous spot between his thighs and holding the back of your hand to his forehead. "Don't you have a team to get back to?"

As if on cue, the door swings open, and a group of people spills into the room, their voices a mix of concern and exhaustion.

"Reid, how's—" a man with a shaved head starts, but immediately stops again, his eyes narrowing slightly as they dart between the two of you.

The room grown awkwardly silent as they take in the scene: you standing between Spencer's legs—closer than any medical professional should be with their patients, his unbandaged arm hung loosely around your waist.

"Oh," says a woman with dark hair and a wicked smirk. "This is interesting."

Spencer shifts uncomfortable but doesn't quite move away. "Guys, this is—uh—this is Doctor L/N. She was just... patching me up."

"Patching you up, huh?" the man from before drawls, a teasing lilt in his voice, his grin widening. "Looks like a little more than that to me."

You straighten and take a step back, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the heat crawling up your neck. "Doctor Reid is in good shape now. He'll need to keep the stitches dry for a few days, but the cut wasn't too deep."

The blonde woman in the back raises an eyebrow, clearly biting back a smile. "Thank you, Doctor L/N," she says politely before her attention shifts to Spencer. "Though I have to admit, considering his arm got cut open, this is the first time we've seen him quite so... comfortable."

Spencer groans, his head falling slightly forward. "Can we not do this here? Please?"

"Oh, we're doing this," the dark-haired woman says, crossing her arms. "How long has this been going on?"

"Emily," Spencer pleads, his voice laced with something somewhere in-between exasperation and resignation.

You glance between then, suddenly feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. "I'll just—uh—leave you all to it," you say quickly, stepping toward the door.

Spencer's hand shoots out, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. "Wait—"

But you shake your head with a small, reassuring smile. "It seems you've got enough explaining to do without me making it harder."

As you slip out and shut the door, you hear the inevitable teasing start.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The hallways is surprisingly quiet compared to the chaos inside, and you take a moment to collect yourself. You've grown used to Spencer's shy smiles and occasional compliments, but seeing him surrounded by his team—people who clearly adore him and who are incredibly perceptive—feels like stepping into a spotlight you hadn't anticipated.

You're about to head back to the nurses' station when the door opens again, and Spencer emerges, wearing all his clothes and his cheeks still faintly red.

"They're never going to let this go," he says, running a hand through his hair.

You bite back a laugh. "I can see why. You should've warned me they'd be so observant."

"I was trying to keep things simple," he admits, stepping closer, "but apparently, we weren't as subtle as I thought."

"Subtle?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically glowing in there, Spencer! You were quite literally holding onto me."

He grins sheepishly. "I can't help it. You make me happy. I like being close to you."

Your heart does a little flip at his words, but you roll your eyes for his benefit. "Well, now that they know, I'm sure the rest of your team will, so I guess our secret's out."

"They'll adjust to the idea," he says lightly. "And for what it's worth, I don't mind them knowing. I'm proud to be with you."

You smile, reaching out to brush your fingertips against his. "I'm proud to be with you, too. Even if it means getting interrogated by the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Spencer laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "They'll get over it. Probably."

"Probably?" you echo, laughing with him as you start walking back to the nurses' station.

He shrugs, his hand brushing against yours as he keeps pace. "I think Morgan might take longer. But that's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

@priv-rose

[eu-nicola]

the fastest driver part 2

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc

warnings: cheating (?), car accident

word counter: 9896

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request, thanks for the comments 🤍

tags: @ilovechickenwings @amortentiaaaa @wierdflowerpower @malvikareader @freyathehuntress

The sound of the rain softly hitting the hotel windows muffled any noise from the outside world. Inside the room, the air was thick, charged with a tension that had taken months to reach its breaking point. You were there, tangled with Max in a kiss that burned like fire, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment for far too long. His hand rested on your waist, firm yet trembling, as his lips sought yours with a mix of urgency and doubt.

You knew it was a mistake. You both knew it. But in that moment, logic and consequences seemed irrelevant.

You pulled away just a few inches, breathing heavily, and looked into his eyes. His were dark, filled with something you hadn’t seen before, a mix of desire, regret, and something else you couldn’t identify.

“We shouldn’t be doing this” you whispered, though you made no move to pull away.

Max closed his eyes, as if trying to find strength in the darkness.

“I know” he replied, his voice hoarse. “But I can’t stop.”

It had all started that same night, after the press conference in Singapore. You’d had an intense day, with endless training sessions and meetings. When the day finally ended, the team had organized a small informal dinner at the hotel. It was something routine after the toughest workdays, a way to unwind and reconnect as a group.

During dinner, Max had been sitting next to you, as always. The conversation flowed naturally between the two of you, alternating between technical topics and light jokes. But beneath the surface, you felt that tension that hadn’t faded since that conversation on the terrace. Every time your gazes met, every time your arms accidentally brushed, it was like a reminder that you were playing with fire.

After dinner, everyone started to disperse. Some engineers stayed at the hotel bar, while others decided to retire early to their rooms. You were about to do the same when Max approached you.

“One more round?,” he asked, holding a couple of water bottles in his hands. “We could go over some ideas for tomorrow.”

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to stay talking about strategies or techniques outside official hours, so you didn’t think anything was out of place. You nodded, following him to a common room in the hotel, where you sat on a couch to go over some data on his tablet.

At first, everything was strictly professional. Max showed you a replay of your fastest lap and pointed out small adjustments you could make. You listened attentively, asking questions and taking notes. But as the conversation progressed, something changed. His comments became more personal, and his eyes seemed to study you more than the screen.

“You’re amazing, you know?,” he suddenly said, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

You looked at him, surprised.

“Why do you say that?.”

“Because you are. Everything you do, how you handle all of this… It’s impressive.”

His voice was soft, and there was something in his tone that made your heart race. You tried to respond, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, you just looked at him, and he returned your gaze with an intensity that made time seem to stop.

That was when you felt it: that moment when the line between you two was about to break.

You tried to break the tension by standing up from the couch, but he did the same, stepping in front of you.

“Max…” you began, but you couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You didn’t. Instead, you stayed there, looking at him, knowing you didn’t want him to stop. It was he who took the first step, moving slowly, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips finally found yours, it was as if all doubts and barriers crumbled instantly.

After that first kiss, everything became a blur. You didn’t remember exactly how you had ended up in his room, only that the elevator had gone up too slowly, and every second had felt eternal. When you crossed the door, neither of you wasted time with words.

Now, standing in the middle of the room, with his hands on your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair, you felt like you were walking on the edge of an abyss. You knew there was no turning back, but you weren’t sure you wanted to.

Max pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“This is wrong,” he said, but his hands didn’t move from your waist.

“I know,” you replied, not letting go. “But I can’t help it.”

You both stood in silence, trapped in that moment that seemed to hold everything you had been repressing for months. Finally, Max sighed and took a step back, as if he were struggling with himself.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound convinced.

“Then why are we here?,” you asked, your voice heavy with frustration.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at you as if searching for an answer in your face.

“Cause I can’t stay away from you,” he finally confessed.

Those words fell like a bomb, tearing down any walls that remained between you. Without thinking, you kissed him again, and this time, neither of you tried to stop.

As the night went on, you knew this would complicate everything, that you had crossed a line you could never undo. But in that moment, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was him, and what you felt when you were with him.

You knew that dawn would bring questions, doubts, and maybe regrets. But in that moment, you chose to stay in the room, in his embrace, letting the world wait a little longer.

Since that night in Singapore, something between you and Max had changed. Though you tried to keep things as they were, it wasn’t long before the bond you had formed became deeper and more complicated. Max, with his impulsive character and his unshakable philosophy that personal success came above all, began to influence you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

At first, you resisted admitting how much he had started to shape your way of being. But the truth was undeniable: his intensity, his ambition, and his lack of remorse started to seem attractive, even necessary. Being by his side made you feel invincible, as if the rules didn’t apply to you. And in the chaos of Formula 1, where every little mistake could cost you everything, that mentality was dangerous but intoxicating.

It was in Mexico that you first noticed how much Max was influencing you. During qualifying, your engineer suggested a conservative strategy to secure a decent grid position. But as you listened to his explanation over the radio, you felt Max’s gaze from the other side of the garage.

“Take risks,” he had told you the night before in a casual conversation while reviewing data. His voice echoed in your mind. “If you don’t, someone else will.”

So you ignored the team’s suggestion and attacked the lap aggressively, pushing the car to its limits. When you crossed the line, you had secured a better position than expected, but at the same time, you had worn the tires more than necessary. Your engineer was frustrated, but Max was pleased.

“That’s what I want to see,” he said to you afterward, with a crooked smile as the two of you reviewed your data in the paddock. “You can’t expect them to do it all for you. Sometimes you have to take control, even if that means breaking a few rules.”

You returned his smile, knowing those words were dangerous but also addictive.

As the season progressed and the end drew closer, the two of you spent more and more time together. The professional and personal aspects blended in a way you couldn’t stop. Max was your mentor, your friend, and now, your lover. It was a secret you both guarded carefully, aware of what it would mean if anyone else found out. But in private, you couldn’t stay away from each other.

After every race, no matter whether you had won or lost, he found a way to seek you out. Sometimes it was a conversation in a secluded room in the paddock, other times it was in the privacy of a hotel. There was something in the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person who mattered, that made everything else seem irrelevant.

It was in Brazil that things intensified even more. You had finished second behind Max in a tight race, and although you were proud of your result, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you could have won if the team had adjusted the strategy. After the press conference, while everyone was celebrating, Max found you in a corner of the motorhome.

“Not bad for someone who’s still learning,” he joked, with that arrogant smile that always made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you replied, laughing, though his words had alleviated some of your frustration.

He took one step closer, and his expression changed. The intensity in his gaze trapped you, and before you could think of the consequences, he took your hand and led you out of the motorhome, away from the noise of the party. You ended up in his room, and, as always, the tension between you two overflowed.

The line no longer existed.

That night, you realized there was no going back. Max was a whirlwind that had swept away your boundaries and doubts. In his company, you felt more powerful, more confident, but also more vulnerable. You had crossed the line between professional and personal, and it was becoming harder and harder to distinguish where your career ended and where your life with him began.

The next morning, while you watched him sleep beside you, you wondered how long you could keep this secret. You knew the truth would eventually come to light, but for now, you held on to the moment, to the feeling of being invincible by his side, even if the price was high.

Max was right about one thing: to win, sometimes you had to break the rules. And you had decided you were willing to do so, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

On the other hand, the change in your driving style quickly caught the attention of the media. What had started as an evolution in your competitive style soon became a hot topic of debate. Your more aggressive approach, your willingness to take risks, and your refusal to give up ground on the track were interpreted as a radical transformation, and not everyone was willing to accept it.

The comments started subtly, during live broadcasts.

"Looks like she's adopting a bolder style," a journalist commented after a risky maneuver you made in Las Vegas to overtake Carlos Sainz. "Although some might say she's pushing the limits of what's acceptable."

But soon, the criticism turned more personal.

In the weeks that followed, headlines grew more aggressive. Sports newspapers and social media were filled with comments about your "masculine attitude" on the track. Some praised you, saying you had stopped being a driver who played defensively, while others criticized you for abandoning what they considered a "more elegant" and "appropriate style for a woman."

"Is this what we want to see in Formula 1?" asked a commentator on an analysis program. "I'm not saying she shouldn't be competitive, but it seems like she's trying to imitate the more aggressive drivers instead of finding her own way."

The words hit hard. You knew exactly who they were referring to with "more aggressive drivers." It was an implicit reference to Max, and the fact that your relationship with him remained a secret didn’t help divert the suspicions.

The pressure reached a boiling point during the Qatar Grand Prix weekend. In the pre-race press conference, a journalist threw a question that seemed designed to unsettle you.

"You've been accused of adopting an 'overly aggressive' driving style. Some even say you're trying to copy Max Verstappen. What do you have to say about that?"

You took a deep breath, maintaining the calm you had practiced so many times.

"My driving style is mine," you replied firmly. "Every driver has their own way of approaching races, and what I do on the track is the result of years of work and learning. If being aggressive means fighting to win, then yes, I am aggressive."

But the journalist didn’t stop there.

"Don't you think this aggression might be considered inappropriate for a woman in a traditionally male-dominated sport?"

There was a murmur in the room, and you could feel the rage beginning to bubble inside you. Max, sitting beside you, shot you a quick glance, as if reminding you not to lose control.

"I think that question says more about the person asking it than about me," you said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "We're in 2025. Are we really still questioning whether a woman can be competitive in Formula 1?"

The response earned a discreet applause from some journalists, but you knew the damage had already been done.

That night, while you were in your room going over your notes for the race, Max appeared at the door. He didn’t say anything at first, simply sank into a chair in front of you, watching you in silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked finally.

You shook your head, but he didn’t accept your answer.

"Look, I know what they’re saying about you," he continued, his tone more serious than usual. "And I understand how it feels. I went through the same thing when I came into Formula 1. They called me irresponsible, dangerous, immature..."

"And how did you handle it?" you asked, not hiding your frustration.

Max shrugged.

"I let them talk. In the end, the only thing that matters is what you do on the track. Winning shuts everyone up."

"And what if I don’t win?" you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

Max leaned forward, fixing his eyes on yours.

"You will win."

His words, though simple, carried a weight that managed to calm some of your anxiety.

On Sunday, with the criticism still fresh in your mind, you decided you couldn’t afford to doubt yourself. The race was one of the most intense of the season, with risky overtakes and moments where it seemed like everything was about to collapse. But in the end, you crossed the finish line in second place, just behind Max.

When you got out of the car, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Although the media still questioned your style, the fans seemed to be on your side. As you climbed onto the podium, trophy in hand, you understood what Max had meant.

The comments would continue. The criticism wouldn’t disappear. But as long as you kept performing on the track, as long as you kept fighting for your place, no one could take away what you had earned.

That night, as you celebrated with the team, Max approached you and whispered something in your ear.

"I told you you’d win."

The end of the season had arrived, and with it, the culmination of a year full of triumphs, tensions, and decisions that would change the course of your life. In the final race, in Abu Dhabi, Max had secured his fifth consecutive championship with an impeccable victory, while you finished second in the overall standings. You had fought until the end, and although you didn’t take the title, you were satisfied with what you had achieved.

When you stepped off the podium, the joy of your team was palpable. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, hugs, and congratulations, but you felt something else: a deep exhaustion, a need to escape the noise and find some clarity. While Max raised his trophy under the fireworks, you looked at him and couldn’t help but wonder what would happen between you two now that the season was over.

Hours later, the Red Bull party was in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, but you found yourself apart, in a quiet corner, holding a glass of champagne and watching your teammates. Max was surrounded by people, as always, his easy smile and magnetic energy lighting up the room.

Finally, your eyes met, and he walked over, leaving the group around him.

"What are you doing here alone?" he asked, leaning slightly so only you could hear.

"I'm just taking a moment for myself," you replied, forcing a smile. "It’s been a long year."

Max looked at you in silence for a moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. Then, he took your hand and led you away from the noise, to a private terrace.

The cool night air was a relief. You both leaned on the railing, gazing at the lights that still shone on the track.

"Congratulations, champ," you finally said, breaking the silence.

"Thanks," he replied, though his tone was softer than usual. "And congratulations to you, too. This was your strongest year."

"Not strong enough to beat you," you joked, but he didn’t laugh.

"You’re closer than you think."

The conversation turned to vacations, the break they both desperately needed. But as they spoke, you couldn’t ignore the unease that had settled in your chest. Vacations meant time away from the chaos of Formula 1, but they also meant time away from Max.

He, on the other hand, seemed carefree, talking about plans to travel, relax, and disconnect from everything. But in his gaze, there was something else, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What are you going to do during the holidays?,” he asked, finally.

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe visit my family, spend some time at home. I need a little normalcy.”

Max nodded, but didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone was more serious.

“You know this... what we have... is complicated.”

Your heart tightened at his words, even though you knew it was true.

“I know,” you said, trying to maintain composure.

“I don’t want you to think that this doesn’t mean anything to me,” he continued, looking out at the horizon. “But in this world, it’s difficult...”

“Difficult...” you finished for him, feeling a lump in your throat.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned toward you, placing a hand on your cheek.

“You’re amazing, you know that? Not just as a driver, but as a person. But...”

You didn’t need him to finish the sentence. You knew that what was everything to you, for him, was a way to escape the pressure, an adventure without attachments. And yet, there was something in his gaze, the way his hand trembled slightly as he touched you, that made you think maybe it wasn’t as simple for him as he wanted it to seem.

When you finally returned to the party, neither of you said anything more about the matter. Max went back to being the center of attention, and you joined the group, pretending everything was fine. But as you watched him laugh and joke with the others, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

The holidays would be a turning point, you knew. It was a time to reflect, to decide what your relationship with him really meant and whether you were willing to stay on that tightrope.

As the night came to a close, you said goodbye to everyone and headed back to your room. You sat on the bed, staring at the trophy you had won that day, but your mind was far from the track.

Max had been your first everything. But now, as you faced weeks of uncertainty, you wondered if it was also your first great lesson on what it meant to love someone who might never love you in the same way.

You knew you’d figure it out soon. But for now, all you could do was wait.

When the holidays began, you knew that, inevitably, your paths and Max’s would cross again. Even though both of you needed space, the geographical proximity in Monaco made it almost impossible to avoid each other. And, deep down, you didn’t want to. There was something unfinished between you two, something that needed to be said.

The first time you saw him was on his yacht, where he organized a discreet meeting with a few close friends. The atmosphere was relaxed, with laughter and wine glasses, but your eyes always found his. Max acted as usual: charming, relaxed, pretending like the weight of the world never touched him. But you knew better. You knew how he hid his emotions under that facade.

The second time was more intimate. He invited you to dinner at one of his apartments, a quiet evening that ended with a palpable tension.

It all started with a seemingly harmless conversation about his plans for the rest of the holidays.

“Are you planning to travel?,” you asked as you dined, trying to keep the tone light.

Max shrugged.

“I’ll probably spend a few days in the Netherlands with my family. Maybe make a quick trip to Spain.”

“And what about us?,” you asked, almost without realizing it. The question came out before you could stop it.

Max looked up, surprised by your tone.

“Us?.”

“Yes, Max. Us. This... whatever it is we’re doing. What does it mean to you?.”

He put his fork down and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You know I don’t like putting labels on things.”

“I’m not asking for a label,” you replied, feeling frustration bubbling inside. “I just want to know where I stand.”

Max frowned, as if trying to find the right words, but his tone was colder than you expected.

“Why do we need to define it? What we have works, right?.”

That response was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Works for who, Max?,” you spat, your voice rising slightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like this only works for you. I’m the one who has to hide, the one who has to accept that we’re nothing more than a distraction to you.”

He stood up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s not fair. I never promised you anything.”

“No, you didn’t!,” you admitted, standing up as well. “But you didn’t let me go either. Every time I try to put some distance, you do something that makes me stay. And I, like an idiot, keep falling for it.”

Max seemed to stagger at your words, but his pride didn’t allow him to back down.

“It’s not my fault if you expect something I can’t give you.”

“Then what am I to you, Max? A distraction? A pastime between races?,” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain.

“That’s not fair,” he repeated, but this time his tone was softer.

The room fell silent for a moment. Max looked away, unable to face you directly. You knew there were feelings behind his cold demeanor, but you also knew he wasn’t ready to admit them, not even to himself.

“Look, I don’t know what you expected,” he said finally, his tone tired. “This isn’t easy for me either. You know I have someone.”

“Oh, really?,” you said sarcastically. “Because from here it seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

“I don’t have everything under control!,” he exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time. “Do you think this doesn’t affect me? Do you think I don’t think about you more than I should?.”

You froze at his confession. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something more, something that would explain everything. But instead, Max shook his head, as if he were fighting with his own thoughts.

“But I can’t give you what you want. Not now.”

That was the statement that ended the argument. You didn’t know whether you felt more sadness or anger, but you understood that you couldn’t keep going like this.

“Then don’t ask me to stay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t ask me to keep being the one who adapts, the one who hides, the one who’s always available when you decide you need me.”

He didn’t respond. You waited, giving him one last chance to say something that would make you change your mind. But the silence was deafening.

Finally, you grabbed your things and left the apartment, leaving Max alone in his own storm.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Monaco, you felt a mix of liberation and sadness. You knew you had made the right decision, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Max had been an important part of your life, but now you understood that you couldn’t keep being a shadow in his world.

The vacation had just begun, but you already felt like you were in a new chapter. And while you didn’t know what the future held, you were determined to find your own path, even if that meant leaving Max behind.

The decision to spend your vacation in Italy wasn’t impulsive. After the emotional storm that marked the end of the season, you needed a place where you could find yourself, far from the hustle and bustle of Monaco and the ever-watchful eyes that seemed to follow you. Italy had always been a refuge for you: the peaceful hills of Tuscany, the small cafes in Rome, the calm of Lake Como. There, you felt like you could breathe.

However, what began as an attempt to find peace turned into something more. During long walks down cobblestone streets and endless nights of reflection, you began to question your place at Red Bull and in Formula 1 in general. Something didn’t fit, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to recognize it.

One afternoon, while sitting on a terrace overlooking Florence, you found yourself writing a list in a notebook. One column listed the things you liked about Red Bull: competitiveness, top-level engineering, the chance to fight for the title. The other column, however, was longer: constant pressure, the tense relationship with Max, the feeling that you were always fighting to be seen as something more than a “second driver.”

It was then that you knew. You couldn’t stay at Red Bull anymore. You had reached a point where your success didn’t fulfill you, because it always seemed to come at the cost of your happiness. You needed a change, and you knew exactly where you wanted to be.

A few days later, you found yourself on a video call with Zak Brown. The conversation started off cordial, with Zak asking how your vacation was going and casually mentioning that Piastri was considering options outside McLaren. Then, you dropped it:

—Zak, I want to talk about the possibility of joining McLaren.

There was a brief but intense silence on the other side of the screen. Then, a slow smile began to form on his face.

—Are you serious? —he asked, clearly intrigued.

—Completely. I feel like Red Bull is no longer the right place for me. I’m looking for a team where I can build something, not just adapt to what already exists. And I think McLaren can be that place.

Zak nodded, leaning back in his chair as he processed your words.

—I can’t deny it would be a big move for us. If you’re willing to take the leap, we are too.

In the following days, negotiations began. Everything was done in the strictest secrecy, far from the eyes of the media and the ears of Red Bull. You knew the news of your departure would be a bombshell, especially since Piastri was being considered as your replacement.

You didn’t tell anyone, not even Max. It wasn’t a conversation you were willing to have with him, not after how things had ended. This decision was yours alone, and you needed to keep it that way.

The news broke on the first day of the new year, as the holidays were coming to an end. While you were at the Milan airport, waiting for your flight back to Monaco, your phone started vibrating incessantly. Opening Twitter, you saw the headlines:

“Oscar Piastri joins Red Bull as Max Verstappen’s teammate” “Red Bull confirms the departure of its star driver after a successful season” “McLaren signs the star driver for 2025 in a surprising move”

You took a deep breath as you read the comments. Most fans were shocked; some criticized you for leaving such a competitive team, while others praised your decision to find a place where you could shine on your own.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out how Max would react. As soon as you landed in Monaco, you received a message from him.

Max: Is this a joke? You went to McLaren without telling me anything?

You sighed, knowing this conversation would be inevitable. After getting to your apartment, you called him.

“Hi, Max.”

“I can’t believe it,” was the first thing he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “You decided this without even mentioning it to me?.”

“Max, this decision has nothing to do with you,” you replied, trying to stay calm. “It’s something I needed to do for myself.”

“For yourself?,” he repeated, almost laughing. “You were in the best team, with the best car, fighting for titles. Why would you leave that?.”

“Because I don’t want to be just an extension of your success,” you said, feeling your voice fill with determination. “I want to build something of my own, and McLaren gives me that opportunity.”

Max fell silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was softer, but also colder.

“I hope you don’t regret it.”

“I won’t,” you answered, with more confidence than you felt in that moment.

Even now, with all the drama, you had flashbacks of you and Max during your early days at Red Bull, which had also been quite a whirlwind. He wasn’t just a driver: he was the driver. His confidence, almost arrogance, permeated every conversation, every strategy, every decision. But rather than intimidate you, that pushed you. You wanted to prove that you belonged at that level too.

Max respected you as a driver, but kept a clear distance. It was his way of protecting himself in an environment where emotional alliances often complicated things. You weren’t interested in anything else either. At least, not at first.

You remember everything started to change after the third race of the season. You had a difficult weekend: mechanical issues in practice, a crash in qualifying, and a minor contact in the race that left you out of the points. You were exhausted, frustrated, and harder on yourself than you should have been.

That night, while reviewing the data in the motorhome, Max walked in and sat down across from you, with a beer in hand.

“Why are you still here?,” he asked, leaning forward.

You looked up, confused.

“I’m reviewing the data. I need to understand what happened.”

Max shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“You already know what happened. You had bad luck. That happens to anyone. Don’t obsess over what you can’t change.”

His words surprised you. Max Verstappen, the driver known for his obsession with perfection, was telling you to let go of a bad day.

“Easy for you to say,” you replied, with a sharper tone than you intended. “You’re the World Champion.”

Max leaned back, taking a sip of his beer before answering.

“Do you think I haven’t had shitty days? What matters is how you come back. And you... you’ve got what it takes to come back.”

That small, unexpected gesture of support was the first step.

With each race, the relationship between you two grew stronger. Max started seeking you out to review strategies together or just to chat during flights. You, in turn, started seeing him as more than just a driver: someone passionate, fun on his good days, and deeply competitive.

One time, during a trip to Canada, the two of you ended up sitting next to each other on the team’s private plane. While everyone else slept, you started talking about everything and nothing: your childhoods, the races that had marked you, the sacrifices you’d made to get to Formula 1.

“Sometimes, I wonder if it’s all worth it,” you said, after a long silence.

Max looked at you with curiosity.

“Seriously?.”

You nodded.

“Of course I love this, but I also wonder what I’d be doing if I weren’t here. If I’d have a simpler life, with less pressure.”

Max thought for a moment before replying.

“I never ask myself that. Not because it’s not hard, but because I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

That comment made you see him in a new light. For Max, F1 wasn’t just his job, it was his life. And while you shared that passion, you also realized that he lived it in a way no one else could understand.

The tension between you began to become more evident in the little things. The way he would look for you with his gaze when you entered a room. The private jokes you shared during breaks. The way your hands would accidentally brush when checking data on the screen.

It was after a particularly difficult race in Austria when the tension reached its peak. You finished second behind Max, but only because the team had ordered you to hold position. You were furious, though you tried to hide it.

That night, Max came looking for you at your room. When you opened the door, you saw him with an expression you hadn't seen before: a mix of concern and something else you couldn't identify.

"Are you okay?,” he asked, though both of you knew that wasn't the case.

"Why do you care?,” you replied, tired of everything.

Instead of answering, Max took a step toward you, crossing the threshold of the door. The space between you was minimal, and you could feel the intensity in his gaze.

"I care because you're my teammate," he said at first, but then added in a lower tone. "And because... I can't help it."

That was the moment when everything changed. Nothing happened that night, but the line between you two had been erased. You both knew it, though neither of you wanted to admit it.

That tension, that undeniable connection, was what led you to cross the line later. But that was the beginning: a brush of hands, a gaze that lingered too long, a silence full of things neither of you dared to say.

After that, there was another night in Singapore where the story had started, your story.

Now that was behind you, and you were far from him and from the team.

A few weeks later, the new season had started, but not with Red Bull. Now you wore McLaren's iconic papaya orange, a decision that had taken the motorsport world by surprise. Despite Red Bull's initial resistance to letting you go, you broke the contract after unbearable tension. Now you shared a garage with Lando Norris, on a team that seemed ready to give you the spotlight you had longed for. However, leaving Red Bull behind didn’t mean leaving Max behind.

Max remained a constant, though now from the other side of the paddock. The first official encounter of the season in Bahrain was everything you had expected: tense and full of silent reproaches. Although both of you tried to maintain professionalism, the media quickly picked up on the coldness between you. And with each practice, that coldness transformed into a dangerous mix of rivalry, resentment, and something that never seemed to disappear: the history you both shared.

In the first race of the season, the problems between you transferred to the asphalt. During lap 32, you were fighting for the podium with Max behind you, pressuring you on every corner. His insistence was suffocating, and in an aggressive attempt to overtake you, he made contact with your car, forcing you off track.

"This is unacceptable," you shouted over the radio, your voice full of frustration.

Although the stewards didn’t impose any penalties, the incident made it clear that Max wasn’t willing to give you any mercy. But what hurt you the most was seeing him after the race when he completely ignored you in the paddock, as if you were a stranger.

After the race, you were in your Motorhome, reviewing the replays of the incident, when someone knocked on the door. You opened it, and there he was, with a frown and arms crossed.

"What the hell was that today?,” he asked, walking in without waiting for an invitation.

"What the hell was what?,” you replied, closing the door behind him. "You're the one who knocked me off track."

Max let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Please. If you hadn't closed so much on the corner, none of this would have happened."

Your blood began to boil.

"Are you really going to blame me for this? Because I didn’t let you pass like when we were at Red Bull? I hate to break your illusion, Max, but I'm not your teammate anymore."

He turned toward you, his eyes filled with anger, but also with something you couldn’t quite identify.

"You made that clear when you left. But you know this goes beyond that."

"What are you talking about?,” you asked, crossing your arms.

Max took a step toward you, closing the distance between you two.

"About you. About us. About how you can’t handle all of this without it becoming a personal problem."

You felt your heart beat faster, but you weren’t going to let it affect you.

"This has nothing to do with 'us.' This is about racing, Max. And if you can’t handle that I’m no longer part of your little world, that’s your problem, not mine."

For a moment, Max seemed like he wanted to respond, but instead, he shook his head and walked toward the door.

"You know, I thought you were different. But it seems like everyone in this sport is the same."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water, but you refused to show it.

"And I thought you could be professional for once. Seems like we were both wrong."

Max left, slamming the door open behind him, and you collapsed on the couch, feeling exhausted.

The first days after the tension with Max passed quickly, but not for the reason you expected. You didn’t obsess over what had happened with him or the hurtful words that still echoed in your mind. What worried you most now was your integration into McLaren, especially your relationship with Lando Norris, your new teammate.

Lando was the complete opposite of Max: relaxed, fun, and with an attitude that, although professional, never lost its laid-back vibe. Instead of pressuring you or criticizing you constantly like Max did in his "mentor" version, Lando preferred to offer support without overwhelming you. He had a way of making everything seem easier, even when things on the track got complicated.

At first, you felt like a bit of an outsider. McLaren was a team with its own culture, and even though it wasn’t your first year in F1, you always carried that sense of nervousness at the start of a new chapter. Lando, however, did everything possible to make you feel welcome. At first, it was something as simple as joking about the team’s coffee, which according to him, always tasted like "hot water with a touch of desperation." After some laughs, the atmosphere started to relax, and little by little, you began to feel more comfortable with him and the rest of the team.

The first official team event, a press conference, was when things really began to change. During the interview, a journalist asked Lando how he felt about having a new teammate, and he, without losing his composure, gave a quick answer that made you smile.

"Well, the truth is it’s been an interesting experience. She brings a positive energy, and... she makes me feel like I'm still the 'young guy' on the team, even though technically I'm not. So, it’s fun having her on board!"

Everyone laughed, and, to your surprise, that broke the ice. The journalists quickly turned the focus to you, and Lando passed the ball with a mischievous smile.

"What I can say about my teammate is that, although she seems very serious, she has a good sense of humor. I can’t wait to see what happens this season."

From there on, things felt easier. It was as if, without even trying, Lando had smoothed the transition. The chemistry between you two flowed quickly, with no tension or unreachable expectations. You didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, just be yourself.

The ease with which you communicated impressed you. It wasn’t like with Max, where you always felt like you had to "prove yourself" or show something. With Lando, everything flowed naturally. If something didn’t work, you just adjusted it, with no drama or expectations. He was a teammate who truly believed in collaboration, not internal competition.

By the end of the first month at McLaren, you knew joining them had been the right decision.

Little by little, the start of the season at McLaren seemed to be going in the right direction: your relationship with Lando was strengthening, the team was improving, and, little by little, you felt like you were finding your rhythm in a car that, although not the fastest on the grid, gave you the sense of control you had lost the previous year. However, things with Max weren’t going well; in fact, they were getting even more complicated.

Although he was still racing for Red Bull, with his undeniable dominance on the track, the rivalry that had ignited the previous year seemed to intensify with every race. No matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t worth focusing on what Max was doing or not doing, he was always there, whether in interviews, in media comments, or even on the track, challenging you to prove you were still more than his shadow.

In the first lap of Australia, a circuit you both knew inside and out. In practice, Red Bull had been clearly superior, but McLaren was more competitive than ever. The chance to snatch a win from Max wasn’t impossible, but it wouldn’t be easy. During the race, Max constantly pressured you. Although he wasn’t being as aggressive as he had been in the past, his presence behind you was suffocating, his car always right next to you in the fast corners.

You remember how, at one point in the race, during an overtaking move in turn 8, Max tried to pass you on the inside, clearly with the intention to intimidate you. It was a risky maneuver, and although logic told you to give way, you decided not to. You had enough space to hold your line, and although you didn’t manage to block him completely, the resistance you offered forced him to brake a little more than expected. That small detail allowed you to keep the position, something that seemed to irritate him.

When the race ended, Max finished in second place, right behind you. As you passed through the cooling area, you could see him in his car, staring at you with that defiant look he was so good at putting on. The crowd noticed it, the journalists noticed it, and, of course, you noticed it too.

At the end of the race, while you were getting ready to leave the paddock, one of McLaren’s engineers told you that Max had requested to speak with you. You didn’t understand why he wanted to do that, and honestly, you weren’t in the mood to face him after what had happened on track. But, as always, appearances mattered, and you couldn’t just ignore him. So, you agreed, even though you knew it would be an uncomfortable encounter.

Max was waiting for you near the Red Bull hospitality, arms crossed, a typical defensive posture. He didn’t say anything at first, but when you looked at him, his face was more serious than usual.

“What’s wrong with you?” he finally said, his tone as direct and blunt as ever. “You know that if you’d let me pass, we could’ve fought more cleanly. Why do you keep acting like it’s all personal?”

You were surprised that the conversation was going in that direction, as if you weren’t racing, as if it was a matter of pride. But, you knew this was Max. It always had to be him first.

“Personal?” you repeated, letting sarcasm fill your voice. “You’re the first one to make it personal. If you’d given me space, we wouldn’t have this problem, but no, you always have to be the one to set the pace, don’t you?”

Max took a step toward you, but not enough to invade your personal space. His gaze hardened.

“It’s not about setting the pace. It’s about being competitive. You still don’t understand how this sport works. You have to go for it, not care about what others think.”

Your breath quickened, not out of fear, but from the anger that had been building up for months.

“I think the problem here isn’t that I don’t understand the sport, Max. The problem is that you’ve never learned how to be a true teammate, and now you’re trying to dictate how I should race. I’m tired of you doing this.”

Max, as expected, didn’t say anything more. He just stared at you for a couple of seconds, as if waiting for you to change your mind or apologize. But you wouldn’t. Not anymore. Not when you knew that, for him, everything had always been about ego, about being the best, the fastest, the one who wouldn’t let anyone overtake him.

The rivalry between you and Max continued to grow. Every time you saw him on track, you knew that, at least for him, it had become personal. What once was a professional competition had become something much more visceral, and every time the two teams met on the track, the tension between you was palpable. But far from being a negative thing, it motivated you to improve. You no longer just wanted to beat Max for the sake of it; now, it was a personal necessity.

The revenge came for him in Monaco. On such a tight, technical circuit, any mistake could be fatal, and Max, although he initially seemed to have the advantage, began to falter in the final laps, losing traction in the trickiest parts of the circuit. It was then, on lap 68, that you seized your opportunity.

Max was charging full throttle, but as you exited the tunnel, his car began to slide slightly. That was enough for you to pass him on the inside at Sainte-Dévote. As you passed him, you felt a mix of adrenaline and satisfaction. Finally, the competition that had defined you for so long, you had surpassed.

At the end of the race, while celebrating your podium, Max’s gaze from the other side of the garage was clear. It was no longer just a rivalry; now, it had become a personal duel.

The victory in Monaco was a milestone in your career. Not only because it had been one of the best races of your life, but because at the end of the day, you didn’t just celebrate with the McLaren team, but also felt a kind of personal vindication. You had beaten Max, done what many thought was impossible. Not just as a driver, but as someone who had constantly been underestimated for a lack of “aggressiveness” or for once being seen as Red Bull’s “perfect teammate” or “pretty girl.” But now, at this moment, you were neither of those things. Now, you were his rival.

The sense of achievement was gratifying, but deep down you knew the victory had its price. Something in you had changed during that last overtake, in the way you had faced Max, in how, when you looked at him for the last time on track, something inside you had broken. That part of you that still wanted him, that still thought maybe things could have been different, was gone, or at least overshadowed by the fierce determination to win. The relationship you once shared was buried, replaced by pure competition, an unfiltered rivalry. But at the same time, you knew it wasn’t just the competition that drove you; it was something much more personal. Max had let you go. And now, you had left him behind, though not without a certain sadness.

On the other side, Max was in his motorhome, lights off, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the mirror. The race had ended, and although he had made an effort not to show his emotions to the journalists, something inside him was consuming him. He was used to winning, he had always been the leader, the reference. But this time, in Monaco, the result made him realize something he had been avoiding for a long time.

He had lost. And not just the race. He had lost the person who had mattered most in his life.

It was ironic because he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. He had been the first to fuel the rivalry, the first to not know how to handle his own feelings, the first to ignore the boundaries between the personal and the professional. But now, when he saw your victory trophy on his phone screen, when he saw the images of you celebrating with Lando, he felt something he had never felt before: regret.

Over the years, Max had gotten used to seeing life as a series of challenges and battles he had to win. The world was black or white, no shades of gray. But with you, everything had been different. He had been your mentor, your teammate, your rival, and at some point, more than that. He had been someone who, in a way, had been the only person capable of pushing him out of his comfort zone. The relationship you shared, although never fully admitted, had been unique. Max knew that when he was with you, he felt more human, more vulnerable. But competition, the need to be the best, had led him to distance himself from what really mattered.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. The feeling of being lost, of having destroyed something valuable, haunted him. He didn’t know how you had come to mean so much to him, or when the rivalry had stopped being just that and turned into something more complicated. But he knew it clearly: he had lost you. And the worst part was that, in his head, there were still unanswered questions. Could he have done things differently? Should he have spoken up earlier, when there was still time to explain? The answers to those questions tormented him, but what really hurt was what he didn’t know: if you felt the same way.

Weeks later, it was the Canadian Grand Prix. The combination of fast corners, technical sections, and the closeness of the walls, all contributed to the magic of that weekend. But this time, for some reason, it felt different. The tension in the air was palpable, and although Max and you hadn’t spoken for days, hadn’t exchanged more than a fleeting glance, something felt off. But you ignored it, focusing on the track, on what you did best.

The qualifying had been tough, but you had stayed in the top positions. The McLaren car had responded well, and you knew you could be fighting for a podium. Lando had qualified just behind you, both with the same motivation, knowing this race would be key for the team. However, in your mind, there was always that little thought that crept in: Max. The rivalry, that constant pressure to prove you could be better, the feeling that he was watching from a distance, waiting for you to make a mistake. And that haunted you.

The race began under the overcast sky of Montreal, with the excitement of the crowd contagious to the drivers. At first, everything seemed to be going well, although the temperatures were higher than expected, making tire control difficult. The first laps passed quickly, and you found yourself fighting wheel to wheel with Lando, in a clean and constant battle, looking for the best line to overtake some rivals. But on lap 32, everything changed.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. You reached turn 6 at a dizzying speed, trying to maintain your position, with the brakes slightly overheated. The car became unstable, and before you could react, the rear wheels lost traction. You tried to correct, but the car violently slid, and in an instant, you were crashing into the safety barriers. The sound of the crash was deafening, an explosion of metal, rubber, and carbon fiber. It was as if the world stopped for a moment, as if the air became heavy and dense.

The radio was filled with static, and the McLaren pit wall erupted into chaos. Engineers shouted orders, but everything was a distant echo. Your car had been destroyed in turn 6, one of the toughest corners of the circuit, and the impact left you unconscious for a moment. The medical staff and FIA officials arrived quickly at the scene, but in those seconds that felt like an eternity, the world felt distant and alien.

When you finally woke up, the sunlight blinded you, and the sound of fans, the buzzing of the medical teams, and the murmurs of people filtered into your head like a storm. The pain was unbearable, but the worst part was the confusion. What had happened? Why couldn’t you move your legs?

The voice of one of the doctors reached your ears, low and worried.

“Stay calm, don’t move, we’re here to help. You have a head injury, and probably a concussion. We need you to stay still until we evaluate you.”

Outside the circuit, the chaos was even greater. Journalists were already surrounding the area, television cameras focused on every detail of the accident, and the paddock was filled with people who could do nothing but watch in silence. The faces of your teammates reflected anguish. Lando, on the other side of the pit wall, had stopped focusing on his own race, and his fixed gaze on the screen showing your wrecked car said it all. He was desperate.

Max, who had seen everything from his car on the following lap, braked abruptly when the yellow flag appeared on his screen. It was as if the world had stopped for him too. Max’s face turned serious, his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he seemed to forget that, on track, he had to continue with the race. Somehow, he was searching for you on the screen, wanting to know if you were okay, if you had survived the crash. But the truth was that, in that moment, neither he nor anyone else knew what had happened.

The medical team worked quickly to stabilize you, and the doctors’ shouts became more urgent. There was worry on their faces, in the way they spoke to each other, but you could barely understand what they were saying. The noise in your head was deafening. What had happened? Why couldn’t you move? Was your body okay?

News of the crash spread quickly on social media. The media flooded the internet with photos of the wrecked car, images of the chaos at the circuit, and the medical staff surrounding you while they tried to keep you conscious. The race continued, but the world of Formula 1 had stopped for a moment. In the hospital, the first reports were arriving through television screens.

Journalists crowded around, asking everyone involved in the accident for the smallest bit of information. Cameras focused on your teammates, who were being approached by the press.

“How is she?,” they asked your mother, whose face was pale, marked by worry.

“She’s being evaluated,” she replied, her voice trembling, unable to hide the anxiety consuming her. “They’ve told us she has a concussion, but they’re doing more tests.”

At that moment, your name became a trending topic on Twitter, and reporters couldn’t stop talking about you, but all you wanted was for everything to stop, for the pain to go away, for the voices in your head to quiet.

Max didn’t know how to react. As he prepared for his last lap, he felt the weight of what had happened, the weight of having been so distant, so focused only on the victory, that he had forgotten what truly mattered. Throughout the entire race, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what might be happening at that very moment. The crash had been severe, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

In the following hours, the news became clear: the crash had left consequences. The concussion was just the beginning. The impact had been so strong that doctors couldn’t yet say whether the physical and psychological effects would be temporary or if you would be left with permanent damage. The fear was palpable, and as exams and tests progressed, it was clear that everything had changed. The accident, the pain, and the uncertainty were now an inevitable part of the story. Your career, your life, everything you had built up until now, was at stake.

[xadeone]

There's gangle hate??? ??????¿¿¿¿¿ wow

I have opinions about the recent gangle hate

[hs-is-loml]

He's My Favorite. (ln4)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Sainz!Actress!Reader

Summary: fans are speculating who y/n might be dating but it turns out it was in front of their faces the whole time. or y/n and lando are mistakenly considered to only be best friends and people are in for a surprise.

Type: Social Media AU! face claim is Bruna Marquezine!

Warnings: probably a few grammar errors. lots of fluff. drivers standing their ground against neymar jr. because he deserves his own warning. inaccurate timelines but then again this is a fictional smau! UNEDITED

a/n: i'm on a kick rn. nothing can stop me.

all translations come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

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carlossainz55 so proud of this one! but papa did say your head is growing too big after you saw yourself on the billboard...and i agree with him. anyways, go support y/n by watching her new movie Blue Beetle now in theaters!

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sainzforlife this family is too talented for their own good-

yourusername papa did not say that.

→ carlossainz55 just ask him then @/carlossainzoficial

→ carlossainzoficial mija, es de lo único que has estado hablando desde que lo viste. (daughter, that's all you've been talking about since you saw it.)

→ yourusername papa, that's not very nice. don't try to pretend like i didn't catch you sending the trailer to all your friends last week...

iamrebeccad beautiful girl and amazing movie!

→ yourusername i love you more than my brother.

→ liked by iamrebeccad and 217 others

xolo_mariduena at least you didn't see her crying when she first saw the billboard

→ yourusername XOLO, NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT

→ landonorris send the video.

→ yourusername now, look what you've done. all the drivers are going to see me crying now-

→ xolo_mariduena you'll still take me to the next gp right...?

landonorris just to let you guys know she cried after this photo was taken too

→ carlando4life does this mean lando was with the family for the private screening??

→ 4papaya lando is a part of their family so probably���

instagram

landonorris just made a post

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, mclaren, and 1,860,657 others

landonorris can't believe this girl is going to be blown up on the big screen coming to theaters near you. jokes aside proud of you and everything you do.

tagged yourusername

view all 99,342 comments

thatonebakucorner this post is so sweet!

yourusername thank you, lan🫶🏻

→ carlossainz55 why did you send him a heart?

→ charles_leclerc yeah, what's that about?🤨

→ yourusername carlos, you're just jealous you didn't get a post from lando

georgerussell63 i never get appreciation posts like this

→ landonorris what do you want me to post about your slideshows?

→ alex_albon it's because you're not y/n

welovey/n LOL not the drivers grilling lando about this post

ln4csforever "proud of you and everything you do" LANDO JUST TELL HER YOU LOVE HER ALREADY

→ paddockfashion please- like lando could pull someone like y/n

twitter

instagram

yourusername just made a post

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, neymarjr, and 1,341,972 others

yourusername such a crazy week but glad i got to spend it with some of my favorite people. thank you for all the love and support you guys have given to Blue Beetle!

tagged carlossainz55 and landonorris

view all 117,593 comments

worldchampionsisaid what is neymar doing here?!?

→ neymarandy/n they need to get back together asap!

→ mywifeisy/n yes because that would be such a good idea even though he cheated on his baby mama while she was pregnant??

oscarpiastri lando is asking if you're serious with the guy in the third photo

→ oscarpiastri apparently, i wasn't supposed to ask you on here so now lando is yelling at me.

carmenmmundt proud of you, love! ❤️

→ yourusername love you, carmen! 🤎

ferraricountyourdays the third pic?? Y/N, WHO IS THAT MAN??

→ y/nismilf she needs to hard launch him already!

neymarjr linda como sempre, amor. (beautiful as always, love.)

→ carlossainz55 no, go away.

→ charles_leclerc wrong post, buddy.

→ georgerussell63 abosolutely not-

→ danielricciardo don't forget what happened last time you tried to contact her.

→ maxverstappen1 move along.

→ fifaandf1crossover do you know you have 30 minutes?

→ y/npleasemarryme love that they always protect her!

shesmyfavactress weird she posted picture with her bf along with one of lando and carlos

→ f1girlies maybe because she's an adult and allowed to be friends with her brother's ex teammate?

fernandoalo_oficial i remember when i used to be your favorite driver

→ carlossainzoficial those were the days

→ yourusername you two are still my favorite of all time.

→ carlossainz55 i'm hurt, y/n.

→ landonorris so was your caption meaningless?

→ yourusername i can't win.

whatacrossover oh, lando and y/n are definitely dating.

yourusername just added to their story

shared post by yourusername and landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, anasainzvdec, and 2,493,968 others

yourusername and landonorris just kidding, he's my favorite.

view all 136,975 comments

carlossainz55 that hand is getting a bit low, don't you think?

→ yourusername get over it. you've had years to get used to this already.

→ inmyf1era YEARS you say?

landonorris i get to be with you every day. what a life.

→ yourusername i love you.

→ oscarpiastri you're ridiculous

→ charles_leclerc mate, look what she has turned you into

→ yourusername charles, i will tell alex about this.

→ charles_leclerc I WAS JUST KIDDING. PLEASE NO

lilymhe was waiting for this hard launch!

→ alex_albon i thought lando was going to spill before they could even do one

carlossainzoficial what can i say i love my son so i approve

→ yourusername could've said that you love and care for your daughter's happiness

sebastianvettel actually, y/n forgot who her real favorite is

→ yourusername love you, seb!

→ landonorris back off, old man.

[onadarklingplain]

last year's poll

[onebadassunicorn]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: scars, smut - glorious smut!!

word count: 5.1k

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

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @salvatoresister1 @imperfect0angel @stvrdustalexx @anneas11

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media.

********************

Chapter 21

Y/n POV

As I closed the door to my room, Azriel stood with his lower back leaning against my dressing table, his muscular arms crossed. 

He was here. 

He was really here. 

My heart pounded at the sight of him, and I swallowed hard, praying he would not see my hands shaking. 

Gods, he was still so sexy. 

Even after six months of being away from him, he still took my breath away. 

Why had nothing changed? 

Since I had been gone for what seemed like an eternity, I had thought my reaction to him might have been milder.  I had spent the last six months convincing myself that he may never want to see me again, that he might simply be a part of my past, never to be a part of my present or future. 

And yet, here he was…back in my life in an instant with that same sense of untamed spirit just seething below the surface.  He had the same hazel eyes that could melt me with just one look and those chiseled cheekbones resembling a God. 

My heart screamed at me to run to him as my fingers itched to touch him…to make sure he was real and not some figment of my imagination. My head, however, told me to stay put and maintain a safe distance.

I slowly crossed the room and stood several feet in front of him, my pulse beating erratically.  He fixed his magnetic eyes on me with a dark stare, sweeping me out of reality and into a wave of emotions I had not felt since the last time I saw him.  His eyes lingered on my curves before he let out a long sigh and finally spoke. “You look amazing, Y/n...”

“Thanks.” I mumbled as I stared down at my feet.  I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes.  I knew if I did, I would get lost in him and to do so again would damn near destroy me. 

I sighed heavily, letting my shoulders drop., before bringing my eyes back to his.  “What did you want to talk about, Az?”

Azriel stood up straight and shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes, filled with a mixture of guilt and raw emotion, never left mine.

“Us,“ Azriel whispered, his wings tucked tightly behind him, his hands clenched at his sides as if he were bracing himself for what he was about to say. The soft sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing him in a golden glow, but even that light couldn’t soften the tension in his face. I lifted my eyes back to his and he swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on mine.

“I owe you an explanation,” he said, his voice low but steady. “About everything. About Elain. About the way I’ve acted… the way I pushed you away.”

My expression didn’t waver as I tried to hide hurt lingering in my eyes, a wound he had inflicted and hated himself for. He drew in a breath, as if the words he was about to say required all the strength he had.

“Angel,” he began, his voice quiet but steady, “before you walked into my life a year ago, I never… I never believed I was worthy of something like this. Of you. I didn’t think someone like me deserved love, or even a chance at it.” His gaze flickered down for a moment, as if ashamed. “I didn’t do relationships. It wasn’t who I was. I thought it was easier to keep my distance, to let myself be… detached. To keep things simple. Physical. No strings.”

He took a step closer, his shadows stirring faintly around him, mirroring the turmoil he felt. “I had lovers. Many of them, over the years. But that’s all they ever were. I didn’t let them in. I didn’t… feel anything deeper. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I thought falling in love, letting myself be vulnerable—” His voice cracked slightly, and he looked away, his jaw tightening. “I thought it wasn’t meant for someone like me.”

“Elain,” he continued carefully, softly, like it might shatter in the air between us. “She’s… nothing more to me than a friend. She never has been. I thought—at one point—that maybe there was something there, something I could convince myself to feel because it was safe. Easy.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But that wasn’t real. None of it was. It was an illusion I clung to because it kept me from looking at the truth.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a huge lump in my throat.  

“What changed?”

Azriel stepped closer to me and smiled softly.  “You.  You changed everything.”  

His eyes looked down as though was grounding himself for what he said next. “The truth is… I was terrified. Of you. Of how much I wanted you, how deeply you affected me. You came into my life and turned everything I thought I knew upside down. You made me feel things I didn’t think I deserved to feel. And that scared me more than anything.”

His hands clenched at his sides, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for me. “So I pushed you away. I kept my distance. And I used Elain—without realizing it at first—as a shield. But the truth is, Angel, it was never her. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“I never saw this coming, but now that I’ve had it – I never want to let it go.  I want you and only you, Angel.  You’re all I can think about.” 

Azriel’s eyes found mine again, and this time they held a vulnerability that made my chest tighten. “You shattered every wall I built, without even trying,” he said softly. “You made me want something I never thought I could have. You made me believe that I could be more than the shadows I carry. That I could be… enough.”

 He stepped closer still, his voice dropping to a whisper, raw and full of emotion. “I love you, Angel. Not as a friend. Not as anything safe or convenient. I love you in a way that terrifies me, in a way that’s overwhelming and all-consuming and so much bigger than I ever thought love could be. I love you. And I only ever want you.”

His eyes searched my face as if afraid of what he might find there. “I need you to know the truth, because you deserve that. But you also need to know that those pieces of my past—they mean nothing to me now. They’ve never meant anything, not like this. Not like you.” He stepped closer, his voice trembling with sincerity. “You’re my mate, Angel. My only. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were gathering strength to ask his next question.  He took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. 

“Is there someone else?” His eyes searched mine, his voice barely a whisper.

Azriel let out a shaky breath, his wings trembling slightly behind him as he waited for my response, every ounce of his heart laid bare before me.

I almost choked as the tears began to pool in my eyes before streaming down my cheeks. 

“What?”  

My breath caught in my throat as he closed the distance quickly between us, but he was suddenly so close to me, I couldn’t think straight.  It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and all I wanted was to be in his arms again, his body pressed against mine, kissing me until I couldn’t breathe.  

“I have to know,” He asked hoarsely as his hands cupped both of my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away my tears before his hands dropped back to his sides.

“Is there someone else?” 

At that point, my resolve completely obliterated.

“No, Azriel. There is no one else. I can’t love anyone else…because I’m in love with you.” I whispered as my arms fell to my sides, tears falling down my cheeks. 

Azriel wiped my tears. “Baby…please don’t cry.” he whispered  before closing his eyes, touching his forehead against mine, taking in what I had just confessed. We stood there for a few moments just breathing each other in before I got the courage to speak again.

I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. I didn’t want to believe that Azriel, of all people, would reject me. But the fear, raw and real, continued to claw at my heart, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that, one day, he might look at me—and see nothing more than the ugly scars left behind.

“Did you mean everything you just said?”

Azriel opened his eyes and gazed back at me, his face raw with emotion.

“Every. Fucking. Word.”  

He grabbed my hips and pulled me forcefully to him, slamming his mouth against mine in a bruising kiss.  Our kiss accelerated quickly, our lips slamming into each other for fear of this moment ending. My mouth responded hungrily to his and his kisses became deeper, his tongue seeking entry into my mouth…which I eagerly gave him.  As he wrapped his arms around my waist, I plunged my hands up under his shirt, feeling the muscles in his chest ripple under my hands.  He made a growling noise low in his throat as he pulled his mouth away from mine and began to kiss a trail down my neck.  

“Angel…baby” he murmured as he planted thousands of kisses on my tender skin.  “Fuck, I have missed you so much.”

His lips found mine again, his kisses becoming desperate, as if we needed each other more than air. I wrapped my hands around his neck to pull him tighter, trying to remove any space left between us.  His strong hands slid up under my shirt and caressed my back.  The heat of his palms burned my cool skin, and I arched my back into him, feeling his cock harden against me.  I inhaled sharply and felt Azriel smile against my lips, knowing full well the effect he had on me.  It was all I could do to cling to him to stop myself from completely drowning in him as tiny sparks danced across my skin.  

Desire pooled between my legs, and I moaned into his mouth as he claimed mine again and again, running his tongue along my bottom lip before gently sucking on it.  

“Azriel…” I moaned as his mouth continued to devour mine.  His familiar, masculine scent, cedar, shadows and mist, filled my senses and I began to tremble in his arms.  Not from fear or worry, but anticipation and longing. 

As he continued to kiss me, and the world seemed to fade away. His hands moved to cup my face again with a reverence that made my knees weak, as though I were something precious, something unbreakable. I let myself continue to sink into his kisses, into the warmth of his touch, the overwhelming sense of belonging he gave me.

But then, as his hands gently brushed down my sides, I froze. The memory of my scars flashed in my mind like a cruel reminder. The one on my abdomen, a trauma that I would carry for the rest of my life, I couldn’t bear to show him. I pulled away suddenly, my breath shaky, my arms wrapping protectively around myself as if to shield the parts of me I didn’t want him to see.

Azriel’s brow furrowed, his hazel eyes scanning my face with concern. “Angel? What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, as if afraid to startle me

I shook my head, my chest tightening as I struggled to find the words, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I just… I need you to see all of me,” I said, my voice trembling. “Not just the parts that are easy to love. The parts I’ve tried to hide, even from myself. I’ve spent so long feeling… ashamed of this. Of what it represents. But if I want to be with you—really be with you—I can’t hide anymore.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away from my tears.

“Show me,” he whispered softly.

I stepped back, my hands shaking as they moved to the ties of my dress.

Slowly, I pulled the ties of my dress, my fingers fumbling with the fabric as my heart pounded in my chest. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and let the dress to the floor, revealing the jagged scar that stretched across the lower part of my stomach—a mark left by a battle I had barely survived.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel held his breath as her dress fell to the floor, completely naked and bare to him.

Rage rocketed through him as he took in the scar below her navel, just above her pubic bone. A cruel mark that she would never escape.

A scar made using faebane, ensuring she would never heal and would be marked forever.

A word carved into her skin.

Whore.

The fury inside made him tremble.

A wave of protectiveness, so powerful it nearly took his breath away, consumed him. No one, no one, should have ever done this to her. She was the woman he loved more than anything—more than his own life.

“Fuck, baby…” he choked as he gathered her into his embrace, holding her tight against him as she shook in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of her shoulder.

He pulled back, lifting her chin with his fingers, his thumb brushing over her cheek to steady himself. His hands, usually so controlled, shook as he held her face. His eyes softened for a moment, the love he felt for her shining through, but when his gaze fell again on the scar, his jaw clenched with a force that nearly cracked his teeth. He couldn’t look at it without feeling a surge of anger, a primal need to protect what was his.

Slowly, with a tenderness that contrasted the fury inside him, he sank to his knees before her and lowered his lips to the scar, pressing a kiss there. His lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, as if he could somehow erase the pain from her body, but the truth was, he knew he couldn’t.

Azriel looked up at her, his gaze holding hers, his hands on her hips and whispered.

“You’re beautiful. Every single part of you.”

He kissed the length of the scar reverently. As he stood back up, his eyes held hers, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with an intensity.

“The man who did this to you, whoever thought they could break you, you are strong and fierce, my beautiful mate.  I swear, I will never let anyone hurt you again. No one—no one—touches what is mine.”

His words were fierce, raw with emotion, and as he spoke, he kneeled again to kiss the scar, a slow, deliberate press of his lips, as if to mark it as his own, as if to take back the ownership that had been stolen from her.

Azriel pulled away just enough to look up at her face, his voice now softer, but no less intense. “And I will kill anyone who touches you.”

His gaze filled with a tenderness that seemed to be at odds with the intensity of violence in his promise, but she could see the truth in his eyes. The depth of his love, his protection, and his unwavering devotion. He stood and pulled her close. 

“I love you more than anything. And I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone hurt you again.  You are mine.”

She smiled softly, her eyes darting to the floor.

Gods, if she only knew how being away from her for the past six months was slowly killing him every day.  He lifted her chin back up to look him straight in the eyes.  

“Azriel - “ she started but there was nothing left to say except show her.  He silenced her, pulling her into another kiss.  Her lips were so soft and sweet that he began to feel a rush zip throughout his body.  

She slid her arms back around his neck, pulling him closer until he could feel every curve of her petite body up against him and he began to lose himself in her.  She was like a drug to him, and the more he had of her – the more he craved her.  The pull she had over him was overwhelming and in the past, it had scared him.  But after losing her for months, he was no longer scared. He wanted all of her…body, mind and soul. Her sighs and moans spurred his kisses on as her nails dug into his neck as his lips continued to caress hers.  

And the little sounds she made…fuck.  

He had not even touched her pussy yet and the smell of her arousal mixed with his own, and the taste of her lips were driving him crazy.  As her soft hands moved across his chest, her touch set fire to his skin, leaving him with a desire for her to touch every inch of him.  

He stopped long enough to pull his shirt over his head before his lips landed back on hers. He placed little kisses down her jaw to her neck and then licked the little patch of skin underneath her ear.  It was one of her most sensitive spots and as he licked it, she moaned his name.

Gods, how he loved her moans. 

He worked his way back up to her lips, eliciting a whimper from her that sent him right over the edge.  Desire flooded through him, and he slid one hand up her side cupped her breast.  He ran his thumb across her nipple and felt it harden quickly beneath his touch.  She began to tremble as he continued to kiss her and he felt her body press more into his, completely succumbing to him. 

No longer able to control himself, he slid his hand down to the front of her stomach to the apex of her thighs.  Her body’s response to his was intoxicating and his cock began to throb.  

He wanted to be inside of her.  

Now.

“Az-“

“I know, baby…” I whispered back to her, between kisses.  “I’ve got you.”  

An audible exhale escaped her lips as his fingers slid across her clit. He felt her hold on his neck tighten as he continued his caresses, increasing in pressure with each swipe.  He moved his mouth back to her neck and slowly nibbled and sucked on it. As her moans grew louder, his cock strained against his pants, and he ground it against her. 

He moved away from her clit, slid two fingers inside her and her breath caught.

“Gods baby...you’re dripping wet for me.” 

Fuck, her pussy was soaking wet.

He began to slide his fingers in and out of her.

Silky and tight

He moved his mouth back up to her lips and thrust his tongue into her mouth.  

Mine.  

He was never letting her go again and he would fucking kill anyone who ever tried to take her away from him. 

******

Y/n POV

As I rocked my hips in sync with his hand, it was almost more than I could take. 

“Angel…you are so fucking beautiful.”

Azriel began to kiss a trail down my neck to my breasts. He swirled his tongue around one of my nipples before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it with soft, little tugs. He then swirled his tongue around my nipple again, lightly bit it and pressed his soft lips to it, kissing it to soothe the slight sting of his bite. He was slowly driving me crazy, and I felt wetness trickle down the inside of my thighs as he moved from one breast to the other. 

As he kissed a trail back up to my neck, I tightened my arms around his neck and pressed my hips into his as his fingers continued to slide in and out of me. I felt his hard cock against me, and I could no longer stand his pants between us. 

I had to have Azriel now. 

I was tired of waiting. 

“I need you, Az.”

He pulled back slightly and looked at me, his breathing heavy.

“Say it again…”

I stared back into his hazel eyes, his pupils blown. I pulled him closer and whispered against his lips. 

“Make love to me, Azriel.”

He moaned and kissed me again, sliding his hands under me to grip my ass, wrapping my legs around his waist. He picked me up and carried me over to my bed, laying me down carefully. He stood up and unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs, never taking his eyes off me. His cock sprang free, and my eyes drank in every detail of his gorgeous body. The tip of his thick cock was seeping from the head and just knowing I had this effect on him and his body made me even wetter. 

He climbed over me and laid down with his arms on either side of my head. As he kissed me again, one of his hands caressed down my stomach and I arched my back into him to let him know I wanted his hand to continue roaming down my body. As he reached my pussy, he slid his fingers up and down my clit several times before sliding a finger inside of me. He groaned as he continued to kiss me while inserting another finger inside me, eliciting a whimper from me. 

He pumped his fingers in and out of me several times before moving his fingers back up to my clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make me writhe underneath him. He slid his fingers inside me again, arching them up to hit the spot he knew would soon send me over the edge. I arched my hips against his hand, seeking to satisfy the building release inside of me. Azriel groaned and then stilled his fingers inside of me, pulling back to look me in the eyes. 

“I need to taste you, baby.” His said, his voice deep and dark with desire. “Not only am I going to taste your pretty pussy, I’m going to taste every inch of you.”

Mother above, Azriel had a filthy mouth. 

He slowed the pump of his fingers as he kissed his way down my neck, breasts, and stomach. It felt like he was everywhere at once and my senses were overloaded with his scent, his tongue licking my body and his fingers curved up inside of me as they slid in and out so easily. 

I felt my orgasm begin to build as he made his way down my body. When he reached the apex of my thighs, he settled in between them and latched onto my clit, sucking it into his mouth, alternating with licks up and down. 

“Mmmm.  You taste so fucking good, Angel.”

He lapped, licked and sucked on my clit until my legs began to shake. My breathing grew heavy as I was right on the edge of my release. I closed my eyes and arched my back when he suddenly stopped and pulled his mouth away. I gasped from the sudden removal of his mouth, and I pulled up to lean back on my elbows, clearly annoyed. 

“Az!”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Eyes on me, baby. No closing them. I want to watch you fall apart while I am eating this sweet pussy.”

Looking at Azriel as he feasted on me was one of the most raw, intimate things I had ever experienced in my life.  Watching him as he made me come was like baring a part of my soul that would only belong to him and no one else.  

I nodded my head as he began to suck on my clit again, alternating between lapping it with the flat part of his tongue before latching onto it. He pumped his fingers in and out of me faster and his other hand found mine, slowly intertwining our fingers together. It was almost as if he was afraid I’d disappear into thin air. I never knew just how intimate holding someone’s hand could be until now. 

With my free hand, I reached down and ran my hand through his dark wavy hair as he continued, his eyes locked on mine. When he began to moan as if he couldn’t get enough of me, the vibrations sent pulses straight to my clit and I began to shake, my orgasm building at a speeding frenzy. 

He pumped his fingers even faster and whispered.

“Let go, baby.”

Azriel latched onto my clit and sucked hard, ripping my orgasm right from me and sending me over the edge, screaming his name. I kept my eyes on his as long as I could before I became a writhing mess with my head falling back on the bed. He continued to lick me slowly, letting me ride out the pleasure as long as possible before he stopped and slowly kissed his way back up my body. 

******

Azriel POV

The sunlight illuminated the soft curves of her body, and he had never seen anything more fucking sexy than watching her come with his face between her legs. He missed her so much that he wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body, staking his claim to her and coming inside her sweet pussy, permanently marking her as his.  

As he kissed his way back up her body, his eyes drifted over the cruel scar left behind. He pressed gentle kisses against the scar, against her skin. He let his gaze continue over taut curve of her stomach, the soft swell of her breasts, and her swollen lips from his kisses. He settled between her hips and pulled her hand, still intertwined with his, over her head.  With his free hand, he ran his thumb softly back and forth over her swollen bottom lip. 

“Angel, these past six months have been hell. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t fucking breathe without you. Everything is going to shit because I’m without you.”

She smiled softly, her eyes filling with tears. One slowly slid out of the corner of her eye, and he wiped it away with his thumb. 

“The way you make me feel safe, loved, and seen – even with all of these scars…I don’t even know what to say.” She whispered as she raised up to kiss him softly, tasting herself on his lips. “I love you, Azriel.”

He brushed the hair back out of her face as his beautiful eyes lovingly gaze back at her. “You just said everything I needed to hear.”

Azriel leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, his tongue swiping across her lower lip as she opened for him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he ground his cock against her core, eliciting a mewl from her. Azriel smiled against her mouth, fully aware of what he was doing as she rocked against him, again desperately seeking that needed friction.

“Az – please,” she panted, her breathing shallow as she writhed underneath him.

He chuckled deeply, as his eyes danced with mischief. “My Angel is so greedy.”

She looked down at his cock, glistening and dripping from the tip and wrapped her hand around him, pumping his shaft with several long strokes. As her hand slid back up to the tip, she rubbed her thumb in a circle over it and slid it back down again.

And that was Azriel’s undoing.

Growling, his restraint snapped as he grabbed her hand away from his cock, intertwined his fingers with hers and pushed both of her hands above her head. He lined up the head of his cock with her entrance and pushed into her in one thrust. Her breath caught, and they both moaned as he seated himself inside her.

Fuck, she was so tight around him.

He stilled as she adjusted to the size of him, kissing and licking her neck.

“Azriel-I need –“

He brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her long and slow. “I know, baby. I know.”

He started thrusting inside her, slowly, almost pulling completely out before he slid back in again. He wanted her to feel every inch of him moving inside her. He moved his hands to her waist and wrapped them around each side, watching the outline of his cock sliding up inside her abdomen.

“Fuck, Angel – look at you.  Taking my cock so well.” He murmured, his hazel eyes darkening as he gazed down at his cock sliding in and out of her.

Her breathing became heavier as her blue eyes darkened, full of love and desire for him.

He could get lost in those eyes for the rest of his life.

He picked up his pace as thrust into her, the head of his cock dragging against the walls of her pussy, as he bent one of her knees so he could thrust deeper inside of her.

He felt her pussy tighten against him and he knew she was close. Her gasps of pleasure were music to his ears, and her body’s responsiveness to him was addicting.

As if she were made just for him.

And at that moment, he decided he could spend the rest of his life between her legs and die a happy man.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of their lovemaking, the creaking of her bed, the rustle of the sheets, and the sounds of wet flesh as his cock thrust into her.

He had dreamt of this moment for so long and it was all he could do to hold on.

“Come for me, Angel. I want to see you come all over my cock.”  He commanded as he stared down into this blue eyes.

That was all it took for her to go over the edge, screaming his name as her head tilted back, writhing underneath him. Her walls fluttered around his length as she rode wave after wave of ecstasy.

Watching her fall apart for him, he followed her over the edge, her name a whisper on his lips as he emptied himself inside of her.

As he pulled out from her and laid on his back, tucking her into his side and grazed his fingers across her lower back, he felt the weight of his devotion, the depth of his passion and the breadth of his love for her. He whispered his love to her, his voice hoarse with emotion, and her response was a soft, sweet whisper that sealed their love.

And in that moment, he knew, that she was his forever.

He was finally home.

[aurorawritestoescape]

I’m finally taking part in Tootathon and I’m so excited! Huge thank you to @jolapeno for coming up with such a wholesome and wonderful event! I’ve been seeing and admiring everyone’s posts about their 2024 faves and I’m smooching y’all for the tags😘 @sawymredfox @myownwholewildworld @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mermaidgirl30 @sanarsi @sunshineispunk @evolnoomym @iamasaddie 💖 dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

SERIES

Bad Blood - step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: you want your stepdad and your step uncle offers to help.

ONE SHOTS

Always And Forever - Jackson Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel comes home after a hard day on patrol and you comfort him.

Good Girl - Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you get caught in the rain on your way to Professor Miller’s house and your lesson gets derailed.

Steam - Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: you take a shower with Javi

Table For Three - Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York

Summary: you’re having a great time on your date but a man from your past interrupts it and makes it…better?

His - dark!Joel x f!reader x dark!Tommy x m!OCs

DDDNE NON CON gangbang - Heed the warnings!!

Addicted - Max Phillips x f!reader

Summary: Max gives you everything you need but can you stop when the pleasure gets addictive?

Going Down - Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

ART AND EDITS

Joel Miller - pencil drawing

I saved her - tlou season 2 edit

Joel takes you to dinner - moodboard

FAV FIC MOODBOARDS

I feel like I’ve ‘tooted’ myself pretty hard here😅 Writing and creating have been very therapeutic for me but the highlight of the year was definitely thirsting and yearning with my beautiful moots, connecting with amazing people all over the world, feeling their support, giving them some of my love and just being together on this hellsite. Let me tag you to share your 2024 faves (if you haven’t done it already) and also to tell you how grateful I am to all of you for being kind to me😍 @milla-frenchy @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @evolnoomym @fruityreads @huskyfox5 @604to647 @thundermartini @sawymredfox @sunshineispunk @magpiepills @sweetlummie @ellasinnombre @joelmillerisapunk @kewwrites @mountainsandmayhem @itwasntimethatdidit40 @bonezone44 @romanarose @ozarkthedog @umnitsa @yxtkiwiyxt @guiltyasdave @morallyinept @axshadows @nervousmumbling @casa-boiardi @corazondebeskar-reads @xdaddysprincessxx @schnarfer @megangovier @tateypots @princessanglophile @nana90azevedo @bubble-pop-eclectic @mermaidgirl30 @tammythr @arcanefox207 if I missed someone pls forgive me💗 I love you all and I’m sending you my warmest hugs and kisses🫂😘 Happy holidays, my loves! I wish you the absolute best in 2025!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[hourlyhoon]

VOTE FOR SONG SEUNGHO (PROJECT 7)

PLEASE VOTE FOR SONG SEUNGHO FROM PROJECT 7 !! HE CAN RAP, DANCE AND HE'S AN AMAZING VISUAL. STABLE SINGING TOO ? THE WHOLE PACKAGE. HE'S GOT A LOVELY PERSONALITY, WHY WOULDN'T U WANT TO VOTE FOR HIM ?

for every person that votes for him u can get free moodboard/icon/reblogs from me. more prizes coming soon. for every day u vote for him the more prizes u can claim (ends on the 27th dec)

DISCLAIMER : YOU NEED TO PROVIDE PROOF BY PRESSING BALLOT RECIPT AND SENDING IT TO ME. SCREENSHOTS WORK TOO BUT BALLOT RECIPT IS BETTER.

IT REFRESHES EVERYDAY AT MIDNIGHT KST (until the 27th) BUT I CAN DM U IF U HAVE ALREADY VOTED FOR ME WHEN IT RESETS. THANK YOU 🫶🫶 I LOVE U ALL SO SO MUCH

reblogs to spread the message is much appreciated, tag any moots u want

tags -> @i-mmaculatus @miujo @wonjuii @chaeryeos @rkkuri @kiyeuo @seoyangi @p-oisn @y-urios @purinkiss @n-americano @nikist-4-n @ningrlz @shuaver @beompercar @daddldee @chaeneuu @arie-n @awwriri @aestradairio @atsubie @aeraras @yeritos @yningz @y-vna @yeoniis @yeossemble @l1nque @fairytopea @fiorais @florescita @haobae @hypndiary @heavenurl @hyelita @tzulipss @i9hrtszn @gyareii @obdosant @jaexiyu @dollfacedb1tch @bowrkii @bitchey @seorain @seulzitos @y-unrei @kissunoo @sugarish @flwerwon @melonitos ++

[hpgal]

DC X DP: VACATION TO A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE Pt. 1

CW: mentions of death

TLDR: Danny is stressed and depressed feeling like despite all the changes in his life, he feels like he is still the same.

Word Count: 1310

a/n: I plan on making multiple parts to this one but it will take some time. This is more a draft to part 1 than anything else and will most likely end up on AO3 in the future as a more completed version of itself once it is done here on Tumblr. Any feedback and suggestions (or even if you want to continue this plot with your own spin on it as long as I am credited/ tagged so I can read it too!) is very much welcomed!!

Danny wanted a change.

Not just for fun either. Though fun would be nice between all these Ghost King responsibilities he had been forced to start learning for when he comes of age, or well not, technically?

He doesn't know! It's complicated! He was 17 now, but his ghost age was only 3! The Observants said to fully assume the throne his ghost age was supposed to be 18 at the youngest but they'd make an exception for when he was 18 in the living realm.

Ghee, thanks you weirdos, because I totally wanted my adult life to already be over so I can manage my undead life.

Anyways, between trying to graduate and learn his forever job, he had been going to therapy now that he isn't the only ghost fighter in town. He has breaks! A support system! 14 year old Danny would never believe his parents accepted him for his ghostly side!!

His friends learned to fight and trap so well over the years that they don't even need him by their side anymore for every fight. The GIW was chased out of town and supposedly disbanded by the government because "it was a scam and ghosts don't actually exist." Even his parent's business was booming in town.

They started leaving the field work to others and focused on research. They hold ghost defense classes 3 times a week for any and all citizens. They build home defense gadgets and other anti ghost equipment to sell to the town, too. There are even kids from his class who want to get into the field now and intern at FentonWorks.

Over the years, everyone in town has grown incredibly capable of handling ghosts themselves that there is a city funded ghost protection task force. And that is all to deal with the ghosts that are more on the unruly side.

The reality is that it is not exactly necessary anymore to always be prepared for the next daily ghost attack. Since it became public knowledge for the Ghost Zone that he'd be assuming the throne, most ghosts have opted to leave Amity Park alone since it was his haunt. However, he has opened it up to any ghost who wants to visit as long as they do not leave Amity Park. And so, ghosts and the living live in harmony in the town.

In his senior year, the town has become so open to ghosts that when a ghost whose obsession is teaching, they hired him at Casper High! Danny is even in the class. He teaches an elective on astronomy, something the school could never afford. Ghosts didn't want to be paid in cash, so it helped! All Dr. Denver wants was to teach and to be allowed to claim the observatory for his research.

But while all this was great, Danny felt depressed. Which leads him back to why he was in therapy. It felt like all these amazing things have happened. That everyone has changed, except him. Thanks to his halfa status, his physical state isn't changing as much either. He discovered he is aging much, much slower.

Talking to his therapist, she helped him realize that what he craved was for a change for himself. Sure, he IS going to become The Infinite Realms king and that'll be a big change but it isn't what he wants.

He doesn't know what he wants, really. Which meant his therapist has given him an assignment to figure it out. So he talked to Clockwork, naturally hoping for some help. And Clockwork told him something surprising instead.

"Yeah, I'm ready for a change, but I don't know what to change." Danny told him in hopes the wording would draw Clockwork to give him an answer instead of something cryptic. He really didn't want to do the legwork to figure it out while he had midterms to study for and more ghost king lessons with The Observants later.

Clockwork paused as if in thought, "You could take a vacation to your universe of origin," he suggests. "That may help give clarity in what you need to change to be happy."

Danny floated next to him. He couldn't bring himself to be frustrated with the being of time for knowing exactly why Danny was here. Instead, he stared at him in confusion, distracted by what he just said, "What do you mean? I am not from here?"

He grins, his form flickering from old to young, "When you became a halfa, you changed universes from the complicated process you went through to become one."

Danny contemplated for a moment, confused but intrigued. A different universe? I wonder how different it would be from here. Without a second thought, Danny grins eager.

"I wanna go!" He exclaims like a young puppy who discovered a new toy for the first time.

"That would not be a problem, time runs differently between there and here. A week there will be an hour here so you won't need a time medallion." Clockwork simply looks off into the space surrounding them before continuing, "I have a friend who will act as your guardian while there. Head through the star shaped door near the Yetis whenever you are ready and he will be standing by, waiting for you" He shifts back into an older version of himself, pleased with himself for already knowing Danny would be taking this chance to go and made the preparations for this moment weeks ago.

Danny does a small dance in midair without a second thought and starts to drift off in that direction, "Oh, and Danny?" Clockwork calls out, "Legally, you are dead in that universe and.. well, much is different from what you know, so do be careful. Due to how time and the laws of that dimension for being such as myself, I am not the main ruler of time there, so the protection spells I placed on you are not guaranteed to save you this time." Clockwork grins knowingly towards Danny as Danny speeds off, oblivious to how serious his warning was.

---

Danny flies like the wind through the vastness of The Ghost Zone until he arrives at the door Clockwork described. His thoughts start to sour at the thought of this universe where he is considered dead despite it being his origin.

The door he arrives at is huge. Like he was not sure how to open the door huge. But wow, was it beautiful. It was like staring into space itself. It sparkled unlike any night sky he has even gazed upon. As he approached the beautiful door, he hesitated.

He was technically returning home, but he didn't feel any attachment to the universe in front of him. To him, nothing seemed different. Everything was exactly the same when he woke up after the accident, so he never noticed. The entire idea that he abandoned his family and friends by dying here was a horrible thought, but it wasn't his fault. He didn't know what happened here.

Wait, did that mean Vlad wasn't from that universe either? Danny shakes his head at the thought. It was pointless to fall down that particular rabbit hole now.

Maybe he should've asked Clockwork more before flying off without a thought. Clockworks words echoed inside him for fear of what he might find. Was this really a good idea? To return to the place he no longer existed? Could he handle seeing what the grief of his passing had done to those he loved?

A moment passes, and Danny shakes his head and steels himself. He needs to know how much changes, if he really did make an impact. Was he important?

With his decision made, the door seems to open itself. A bright beam of a soft white light floods through the threshold, and Danny steps through.

[tapeworm-brain]

MY JAW DROPPED WHEN I SAW YOU TAGGED ME OMG...

• Do you have a pet?

Yes!! Currently 4 cats and a dog. 3 of the cats are at my mom's house, and the other and the dog at my dad's.

• Comfort food?

Pasta salad, calzones and my mom's homemade macaroni. I love cheese!

• How many languages do you speak?

I only speak English fluently, but I'm learning Greek and took 2 years of Spanish. 52 day Duolingo steak, but I'm still mourning the loss of my 87 day steak... I lost my phone for only 3 days! :(

• Random fact about myself

I have a really hard time smelling almost everything, but whenever it comes to herbs and spices they smell so strong it makes me sick. I hate going shopping, because I call smell the seasoning isle from across the store and it makes me want to puke. It's why I can't eat sometimes too lol

• Something I'm proud of

My art! Recently I've been getting a lot better at drawing, it's amazing! :D

Tags: @batxcastlesociety @leniisreallycool @lemonbread34 @sarcastic-snapdragons-blog

Tag game because I want to know you better !

-Do you have a pet ?

-Comfort food ?

-How many languages do you speak ?

- Random fact about yourself

-Something you’re proud of

To begin this little tag game, I’ll tag @ebony-reine-vibes @freddie-77-ao3 @newobsessioneveryweek @thehaikuman and @miraclesnail

I hope the questions aren’t boring and love you all 😘

[thydungeongal]

#LITERALLY#the best d&d 5e game i ever ran lasted years and it was a megadungeon#we used encumberance and i made sure vision and light were important#and it was amazing!!! the PCs felt challenged even after breaking into the double-digit levels#people are afraid of numbers and they'll say shit like ''oh but i don't want to play with spreadsheets'' and it's like...#you don't need a spreadsheet for 5e you literally just change numbers on your character sheet. which is why the character sheet has room for#all those numbers. because that's how the game was designed to be played.#if you're not playing d&d with at least SOME dungeons then why are you playing d&d. just play a different game right?

I am kissing these tags mwah mwah mwah

Running D&D in 2024 is like, the player community collectively convinced each other that dungeon crawls, resource management and attrition are bad, so now everyone runs games where characters can expect to get into one or two fights a day and characters are never stretched for resources, and most Reddit threads about D&D are GMs asking for help challenging their groups because of said ignoring of the resource management aspect and getting told that a good GM could make it work so obviously they must be a bad GM.

[probablyreadinsmut]

This idea was inspired by the lovely @joelmillerisapunk thank you so much for tagging my two Joel fics on your post 💜

I only just started my tumblr at the end of November, with the intention of just being a silent reposter but I started getting ideas and I wanted to put them down into words, now I feel like I've found my community here and I get to interact with some truly talented and amazing people. Thank you to every single one of you and my followers 💜

This is a mix of prompts, mini fics, drabbles, one shots and ongoing series'.

Most of them are smut (Quelle surprise the clue is in the username) but all of them are absolutely incredible reads and some of my favourite fics this month.

Joel Miller

Never made it as a wise man - @almostempty

Joel Miller X Reader

Summary: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

So much to lose - @auteurdelabre  

Joel Miller X Reader

Summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.note: Featuring Dark!Joel 

Dirty old man - @mssalo

Joel Miller X F!reader 

Summary: You were assigned as Joel Miller’s caretaker, but he’s a perverted old man who just can’t keep his hands off you. And the truth is, you don’t mind one bit—in fact, you want more.

PTOLEMAEA - @lovely-vamp-princess

Cryptid!Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Trails of blood have been appearing around Jackson that lead to gruesome crime scenes. The bodies only seem to appear in the middle of the night after Joel mysteriously disappears for hours at a time.  You aren’t the only one with growing suspicions about the surly older man.

Bad Santa - @baronessvonglitter

sleazy mall Santa!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

The last piece of us - @absurdthirst

Joel Miller X F!reader

Summary: When the world ends that night, Joel has to make a choice between you and his daughter. You encouraged him to save Sarah and twenty years later, he finds out that you survived that night when he sees you in Jackson.  

Smooth Operator - @penascigarette

Joel Miller x f!phone sex worker

summary: you accidentally send a picture of yourself to joel which results in a video call

It feels like hope - @itwasntimethatdidit40

Summary:Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz - @joelmillerisapunk

Joel Miller x reader 

Summary: The enemies to lovers/one bed/forced close proximity/light grumpy x sunshine/patrol partner fic no one asked for.

Somewhere only we know - @josephquinnswhore

Joel Miller X Female Reader

summary: joel has been the only constant in your life since you’ve been at Jackson. But you don’t know if you deserve him despite his persistent efforts. 

Javier Peña

Neighbors - @gothcsz

Javier peña x f!reader

Summary: what it's like living next door to javier peña. Explicit. Minors DNI. 

Unscripted desire - @gothcsz

Javier peña x f!reader

summary: you’re a camerawoman that shoots pornos. javier peña is the pornstar you can’t stand. why is it that you’re always so affected by him? Explicit. Minors DNI.

Office hours - @itwasntimethatdidit40  

modern!Javier Peña x f!reader 

Summary: You should concentrate on work. But you can't do that with the charming bastard you share the office with in front of you. Why not find a more fun way to spend your office hours?

Like a fever - @pedgito

Javier Pena x reader

summary: this is my own entry for the summer lovin' challenge, somehow torturing myself further by writing a fic amongst all my other wips and helping organize this challenge. there's sweaty javi p and office sex, that's all you need to know.

Nobody wants to be alone on Christmas- @morallyinept  

Javier Peña X F!reader

Summary: You discover your boss Javi will be spending the night alone, working on the cartel case on Christmas Eve, so you extend a kind offer for him to join you for some Christmas dinner. 

Christmas in the city - @punkshort

Javier Peña x f!reader 

Summary: As if your holiday season couldn't get any worse, you get lost on your way to the first day of your new job. Lucky for you, a handsome and flirty stranger finds you on the verge of tears and walks you to your office building, turning your day around instantly.

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officer - @javierpena-inatacvest

Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader

Summary: After Javi brings home a pair of handcuffs from work, your plans for the night start to look very different. 

Lunch break - @joelmillerisapunk  

Javier Peña x coworker f!reader  

Summary: Javi edges you at work   

Din Djarin

Vices - @baronessvonglitter  

Din Djarin x OFC x bi! f!Reader x OMC 

Summary: You're not one to be shy of your vices, but a night with a mysterious woman has you and your work partner Din chasing new highs.

I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine - @dindjarindiaries

Din Djarin X Reader 

Shadows - @burntheedges

Din Djarin x F!reader

summary: you were pretty sure the ship was haunted.

Ezra:

The Pit - @morallyinept

Ezra X F!Reader

Summary: Ezra and you stumble into an ominous pit on a prospecting mission for coveted azure diamonds on the Narillan moon, and find more than you bargain for.

Frankie

All the things we never said - @javierpena-inatacvest

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: You and Frankie Morales have been best friends since the 6th grade. You swore to each other that there would never come a day where life would be better without the other one in it. But as you grow up, you've learned the hard way that sometimes, just friendship isn't enough.

Marcus Pike:

The gift - @morallyinept

Husband!MarcusPike x Wife!Reader

Summary: Marcus buys you a naughty Christmas gift that you wear to his parents' Christmas lunch, and you both find it hard to stay composed at the dinner table.

Dieter Bravo

Sleezy Santa - @morallyinept  

Sleazy!Dieter Bravo x Menace F!Reader 

Summary: Have you been naughty or nice? Sleazy Santa Dieter will find out... Come sit on his knee, baby, and tell Santa what you really want for Christmas. If you've been good, he might just give it to you. T'is the season to be sleazy...

Bright lights - @moonlitbirdie (only on AO3, you'll need an account)

Dieter Bravo x NDAfab!Reader

Marcus Acacius

III - @gothcsz

Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader x Lucius Verus Aurelius

Summary: Lucius Aurelius, the stepson of wealthy and renowned architect Marcus Acacius, falls in love with you, Marcus's personal assistant. However, you're already in the midst of a tangled affair with his stepfather. 

Mutli fandom: 

I gave you my heart - @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader x Lucien de Leon

Summary: You and Dieter attend his parents annual Christmas party where you unexpectedly run into your ex, Lucien de Leon. As events (and drama) unfold, you're soon wondering if you are making the right choice about your future. 

Paris, Texas - @almostempty  

joel miller x javier peña x f!reader

Summary: 2 Texans, 1 Lady 🎀 The joel x javi x reader threesome

[toeskater91]

Stobotnik Fic Recs

For a moment of positivity and sharing, see below for 10 Stobotnik Fic recs.

No fics in this post relate to the Sonic 3 movie.

Please make sure to take note of the tags and ratings if you click through to AO3 to ensure full positive curation of your reading experience. The recommendations vary from General up through Explicit ratings.

Doctor Robotnik makes good on his promise of being home by Christmas - it just took a little longer than expected, and home turned out to be someplace he hadn't considered.

Post Sonic 1 movie fic and Christmas/Holiday themed! I adore this one so much, I've re-read it so many times. The Doctor makes his way back to earth slightly before Christmas and ends up on Stone's new doorstep. The mortifying ordeal of being dependent on your former Agent and navigating how to handle the joy and boundaries of your boss you've greatly missed unexpectedly returning.

"I was actually happy when I found out what had happened to you. I looked you up against my better judgment, fully expecting you to have moved on immediately. Agent Stone, consummate professional, busy making lattes for some other genius." Stone snorted. "My number one attribute, huh?" "You know it. Only reason I kept you around," Robotnik said quietly.

Post Sonic 1 movie fic. Stone ends up imprisoned and Robotnik makes his way back to Earth with a side of rescue. I adore this one a whole lot and the Stone POV throughout is gorgeous.

You have that fanfic or series that takes a passing fandom interest and then once you read it, that interest is now stuck in your brain forever because of how profound an impact it had on you? That's this series and why my Stobotnik spiral really went into play.

It starts pre-film canon and goes through both both Sonic 1 and Sonic 2, then creates its own path for post Sonic 2. It provides such in-depth characterization and growth to both Stone and Robotnik as people and their relationship, its beyond amazing, especially how it weaves into the films as well. Total series is 286k words and my god, it is so, so, so, so, so worth the read. And the 16 parts allow for pacing and breaks.

The Doctor works himself to pieces each time he completes a project. His Agent puts him back together. A reflection on the creation-destruction process, homemade bread, and the intricate rituals of it all. (a.k.a. take an allegory, beat it dead.)

Pre-Canon / No Sonic movie direct interactions. Do you have that fic, that after you read makes you just sit there because of how profound and deep it hit you in your core? That you just sit there in wondered silence as you try and wrap your brain around it? That's this fic, the amount of pieces from the various chapters I want to quote and keep with me forever. The codependency between these two tied into the creative process of the doctor and its aftermath, beyond amazing.

In the process of removing the master emerald from Robotnik, Knuckles and Tails accidentally knock it into Stone's orbit. Or - in which Stone gets a turn with the emerald after Robotnik, and the two them have some time to chew the scenery (and also take out so many G.U.N. goons), because we deserved to see them fight side-by-side longer.

Sonic 2 canon divergence, Stone gets to take a spin with the emerald. Love to see our Agent get a turn to be awesome and deadly.

Before he even met Doctor Robotnik, Agent Stone understood the undeniable rules of being his, and truly, he was his. There was a sense of belonging that came with being around the Doctor as a whole, and it was not one of compassion or comfort like one may feel in a domestic partnership. No, from the briefing he had been given on Robotnik, Stone understood that he would no longer be property of the government once he was assigned to him. Instead, he would be Robotnik’s and Robotnik’s alone, no longer his own, yet nothing to Robotnik either. To the Doctor, he was an object to use and dispose of as he saw fit, and most days, even less. That was rule one.

Pre-Canon / No Sonic movie direct interactions. This fic has amazing pacing and growth. Starts with Stone beginning to work for the Doctor and how they change and grow as his time in this role extends on. This is a beautiful fic that I've given several re-reads. This has some amazing banter and attitude from them both.

Robotnik's very first romantic attachment left him bruised and apathetic towards the concept as a whole, warping his own perception of what it means to take part in any kind of emotional relationship. Thirty years later, he takes a chance on Agent Stone who, with patient hands and raw physical attraction, slowly coaxes Robotnik out of his cybernetic shell and into a whole new world of surprisingly mundane exchanges. Or: that one series where they date like normal people rather than the top secret government assets that they are while making a mockery of the entire country.

Pre-Canon / No Sonic movie direct interactions. I adore this series and how the author portrays Stone and Robotnik. How they growt throughout their relationship and the way they communicate and play off each other is wonderful. Part 5 is Christmas/holiday themed as well.

This is about a lot of things. This is about names and what they mean, this is about the weight of inheritance, this is about bakeries and newspapers and coffee. About homes and lawns and demolished grain silos. This is about a building in Northwest Oregon. This is about Robotnik. This is about Stone. Alone together. or: in less flowery language, its a series of snapshots of robotnik's lab across the years. the way robotnik used to be very alone in it, and the way he eventually wasn't.

Pre-Canon / No Sonic movie direct interactions. This is such a uniquely structured fic, bouncing through multiple times and building the history of the land where the lab that the Doctor works in will / does stand and how they come to work together

Stone's primary objective in life is to keep Robotnik safe and alive, at any cost. Time to find out what the universe is charging him.

Sonic 2 fic with Canon Divergence. Time travel and loops where Stone is determined to ensure the doctor is safe and he can protect him. The time loops and travels are done in such an amazing way as Stone keeps trying, trying, trying. Has a happy ending.

A Doctor for Christmas: The (Not A Hallmark Movie) by EmperorHaruhi

When (former) Canadian hockey player Aban Stone and (current) German Doctor Ivo Robotnik are trapped together in the town of Green Hills, Montana, three days before Christmas by an ice storm, the pair butt heads almost immediately. Can Stone melt the doctor's icy exterior and find the man lurking within? Will Robotnik discover Stone's dark secret, and how will he react? This Christmas, the Hallmark channel (does not) present: A Doctor For Christmas - An international, multi-lingual rom-com for the ages.

Hallmark movie Alternate Universe (AU) fic. This one is beautiful and such a fun spin on these two meeting as strangers thanks to the airlines being struck by the effects of winter weather.

[peasant-player]

I watched the war of the rohirrim!

And I have thoughts spoilers under the cut + some crappy doodles ❤️

Man that Oliphant was nightmare fuel.

I never thought I would be scared of elephants but here I am.

The watcher was kinda adorable!

Here some doodles xD

Wulf is now forever a raccoonTM in my head.

What a pathetic man.

Whoever said Hera is a Mary sue needs to check their brain OR the definition of Mary Sue.

For God sake her first real kill was with the help of her horse and a pitchfork while laying down being terrified.

I do like that she used the "death" Sentence in her amazing show off against the racoonTM because that what Rohans warrior use to say while riding into battle!

I disapprove about her daily clothing choice. White boots and shirt? Really? That poor laundry lady!

Now to the more important part that I need to say:

I loved Targg and the shield maiden Owlyn so much. I want a healing fix it and I ship them.

Did they had any interactions with each other. No. But that's not gonna stop hopefully anyone!

He was a really good general with great moral compass! He would have spared Hama and the small folk. Now let me get this quick~ out of the system:

I loved his clothing and I mean he got just stabbed once(1)time he could survive that! (Helm got shot with arrows like 6 times and was fist fighting people while being very depressed in a snowstorm like a week after that)

Let there be some loyal wild men safe Targg from the battle field and then he heals but doesn't know what to do with his life and then he meets hera and olwyn and he tags along because he respects her and he has nothing better to do. They could go on a adventure together.

Or idk let him see that the raccoon man is crazy earlier and safe hama for negotiations or whatever and he helps Rohan idk I read fics with much worse unrealistic premise and it still worked great!

Here have a little comic

So let's talk about Helm hammerhand!

What a legend. No really I'm gonna draw him standing heroics with his tits out and his hammer holding into the sky.

He would approve.

I laughed out loud that he kinda froze to death and suddenly had his hammer in his hand!

He punched a ogre/orc to death! Sauron and the Balrog should be thankful that he does not have access to thermo leggings and the blood of the Numenorian because he would have punched them all straight into the void!!

He would have throw the ring into the fire because he has no use of such nonsense!

And Haleth !! The silm Haleth would have approved of him!!!

So cool,so hot and even his death was kinda cool, very quick but so heroic.

The twink bard hama got used up to show that the raccoonTM is a terrible war lord and a super pathetic man. Kinda sad and underwhelming. Good part to start a fix it fic!

And wulf Ach wulf man idk what to say I will say that the German dub gave him a better and deeper voice then the English voice so that was nice! I had some feeling for him when his father died and he got choked out by helm but he really went all out to become very pathetic.

I hope there are some good fics that work on his very odd characteristics

I'm gonna draw him once being even much more pathetic but I need to confess he is rather bland next to Targg or Frealaf!!

Frealaf ❤️ God he is SO handsome and so cool in the rescue and he got that calm vibe about him.

He makes a great King.

I loved his clothing so much in general the clothing was great!! (Except the white pants/boot from hera!!)

Very beautiful and I can't wait to see more close up pics!! It was of course alot of fantasy style belts and fur but I do not mind that!

Then the very funny siege machine.

In all earnestly if the wild men are so good at building stuff and hauling around ridiculous amount of woods then they missed their opportunity to become middle earth's greatest engineers!!

Builders!

Wood cutters!

Why fighting around and eating scraps if you could become middle earth's best architect??

And what the hell did the poor drum player did wrong that he got a free yeeting into the atmosphere???

At least he was dedicated to play his drum until his end I guess?

But I loved the skull masks! Hehe very easy way to draw some hot wild men ~

That's my thoughts I did not went into much details about what could have been better or what is not really like in the books. I'm just glad that there is another great addition to the Tolkien fandom!!