#‘yeah… something about time travel and life being weird right?’

[carrotcakecrumble]

Life is Strange reference in ‘Tell Me Why’ girlies omg i screamed

[theminecraftbee]

Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

[evilminji]

Okay this is going to drive me INSANE. D:>

Dearly beloved, Phandom darlings...

Can DANNY EAT VIDEO GAME/TV FOOD?

I... I NEED to know. You don't UNDERSTAND!? Think about it. No, seriously. THINK about all those HIGHLY unrealistic, too good to be true, PERFECT looking meals. Animated shows n games etc where there are chefs who will "cook for Anybody!"

Now think about being 14 going 20. A teenager. A broke college student. Your fridge is empty and everything you touch? Comes back to LIFE. You're... you're just so hungry. Tired. Your bruises have bruises and you have a paper due tomorrow.

I kinda want to CRY.

Can only eat cup ramen so many times before you DO.

And this show? That commercial? Yonder cooking game?? Well... they did a REAL good job animating it. It looks so WARM. So FILLING and COMFORTING. You can practically SMELL it.

You look down at your sad, soggy, cheap but you can afford it, EZ Noodles and? Feel something BREAK inside. You... you KNOW you can travel inside technology. KNOW this. Have done it before. Why... why AREN'T you? You can't keep living like this.

You gotta TRY, right?

I? Wanna believe it TOTALLY works?? Because Ectoplasm is weird like that? And just shrugs? Says "actual food, the concept of food backed by electricity, what's the difference? Sure, we can fuck with this"? And so Danny? IMMEDIATELY fucking switches his diet.

Like? Dead stop screech, slam on the breaks, u-turn to take that last off-ramp. Type IMMEDIATE.

Grocery bill? No, no, you mistake him! No. NOW it's his "carefully researched for their cooking, games and shows" bill. Touch his collection and he'll FUCKING BITE.

They got sticky notes on the cases. Menus n lil fold out "grocery store" locations. He punched a dragon for this fruit. Mmmmm, home cooked meeeeeals~

Just? Weird Foodie Danny. Yes he DOES know what those steaks taste like. While YOU fuckers were staring at the cat girls bizangas, HE was eating granny cat lady's home made meatball stew! Ha! YOU FOOLS!

More then that? I want him to write reviews. Like "yeah, fight system was OKAY but- *5 hour glowing rant about the food, sounding like a food critic who'd actually fucking gone and loved it* " and people are like?? Who? Is this funky lil madman? This is hilarious?

I want it to be DPxDC JUST? So everyone slowly starts to play the game "Meta or Shtick?" Because no one REALLY knows who he is. This dude gets POPULAR though. For some reason can't be hacked (shame on you guys! Way to try and ruin the FUN!). And like? Eventually? Someone just fucking ASKS?

And Danny is like... " wouldn't YOU like to know, weatherboy?"

So everyone is like:

"Meta."

But hey... since they're already ASSUMING~? >:3c WHOOOOO wants to help him PAY RENT~? Let's VLOG this fucker! Wooooo! Say "hi" Catchef! *feline noises* like? It's like a let's play combined with a mukbang.

Teen Heros everywhere are FACINATED. Game developers are suddenly like? "If there's food. You BETTER make it look amazing. We want that weird YouTube twink to... whatever his powers are, our game! Free viral marketing!" Food channels? Rending their clothes, on their KNEES, please! PLEASE! Just ANSWER OUR EMAIL! Just ONE SHOW! A one off! Guest appearance!

We have MONEY!!!

All while Danny? Is finally happy with his life. Weird as hell. Harrasing the world. Good food on the regular. Gets to travel, kinda. Best of all? He's raising money from it! Can help people! Now... who wants salad?

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @dcxdpdabbles @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[pitviperofdoom]

High School Time Travelers, Part 2

It's finally here! Follow up to this story.

***

“So. Spill. What the fuck is going on with you and Angelique?”

Raph fidgeted uncomfortably, and something within Erin roared out in protest at that. They were in her room, surrounded by her clutter and band posters and the stuff he kept at her house to keep his mom from throwing it away. He wasn’t supposed to be uncomfortable here.

Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I time-traveled last night.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I,” he said wearily. “I woke up in a house I haven’t set foot in for years, across the hall from someone I promised myself I’d never talk to again. It happened, and if you’re stuck on that part then this conversation can’t continue.”

Erin got up and paced her room, kicking aside her backpack, nearly knocking over the guitar stand in the corner. “What the fuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

“What the fuck, Raph.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

The absurdity hit her instantly—he didn’t mean to time travel, as if they were talking about him forgetting his homework or getting in Monica Dillon’s way during passing period. She wanted to laugh.

But then she remembered some of the weird things Angelique had said—about friendships imploding, about college, about shit not mattering in high school, all with the easy certainty of experience.

“Prove it,” she said. “Can you do that thing where you predict what I’m about to say?”

“I’m not stuck in a time loop, dumbass, yesterday I was thirty-three!” Raph snapped. “I had to go through math class trying to pretend I still remembered my teacher’s name!”

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Erin held up her hands placatingly. “There’s gotta be something.”

Raph sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I dunno. Anything meaningful and unchangeable I can remember won’t happen for a while, so if you’re willing to wait for the Trump presidency or the global pandemic, there’s that.”

“The what.”

“Wait, who’s president right now? It’s still Bush, right?”

Erin pulled a face.

“Next one’s Barack Obama, he’s gonna do two terms,” Raph informed her. “First black president.”

“Oh, huh. Cool,” Erin said faintly.

“Let’s see, what else, um… Balloon Boy? Has Balloon Boy happened yet?”

“No, what the fuck is Balloon Boy?”

Raph brightened. “Yeah, so at some point this family is gonna release like, a homemade weather balloon? Or something? And there’s gonna be this huge panic because they think their son is stuck inside it, but then it turns out he was fine and hiding in the basement the whole time and it was a hoax.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for that I guess?” Erin sat down again. ���You’re seriously not fucking with me right now?”

“I mean, if you want, we could forget this conversation ever happened,” Raph offered. “Continue with our normal lives, while I keep under-reacting to devastating world events.”

“Christ, I don’t know.” Erin pressed her palms into her eyes. After a moment, she lifted her head again. “Wait a minute, we’re getting off track. What does this have to do with Angelique?”

Raph’s silence could not have been louder.

“Raph,” Erin said, a little desperately.

“First you have to promise you won’t be mad,” said Raph.

“Did you sleep with her in the—” Erin paused to do some arithmetic in her head. “—eighteen years between then and now?!”

“She’s my wife,” Raph blurted out.

Moments later, Erin’s mother knocked politely on the bedroom door. “Everything okay in there?” she asked. “That’s an awful lot of screaming for a Tuesday night.”

Erin continued howling into her pillow. “She’s fine, Mrs. Yokota!” Raph called. “We’re looking at—uh—creepypastas!”

“Creepy what?”

“Uh—crap, are they still called that?—like, ghost stories and stuff!”

Placated, she left them to it. Eventually Erin recovered enough to lie back and stare listlessly at the ceiling.

“Dude.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck is your life?” Erin demanded. “How did that even happen?”

“We ran into each other at—so my friend Hazel got roped into being in their college roommate’s bridal party and dragged me along for moral support, and Angelique was in the same friend group but with like six degrees of separation from us,” Raph explained. “It took half the reception for her to recognize me because at that point I’d been on T for a few years, but the second she realized we went to the same high school she turned fishbelly-white, pulled me aside, and apologized for how much of a bitch she was back then. It was really awkward.”

Back then, he called it, even though for Erin it was still right now. “And you married her?”

“Like eight years later, yeah.” Raph ran his hand through his hair, not quite hiding the small smile that stole over his face. “She really turned over a new leaf.”

Erin was silent for a while, mulling over this new information, combining it with what she already had from that afternoon.

“Is your name still Raphael?” she asked. “She sounded really surprised about it. And I know you said you were just taking the name on a trial run, but you really seemed to like it. Not that there’s—you know,” she added. “I know that—just because I picked it, I knew you might not… you know. It’s fine, I was just wondering. If I should call you something else.”

“I did—I do like it,” Raph assured her. “But, uh, some stuff happened. My dad found me.”

Erin’s eyebrows shot upward. “Wait, really? What’d he have to say for himself?”

“That Mom ghosted him when she got pregnant because her side guy had more money.”

“Dude, fuck your mom.”

“Don’t fuck my mom, she’ll ghost you for money, weren’t you listening?”

Erin burst out snickering. “Fuck, sorry, this isn’t funny.”

“It will be in eighteen years,” Raph said with a wry smile. “Hindsight. Anyway, he found me in—he’s gonna find me in two years unless I reach out first. He’s a good guy. My stepmom’s pretty cool, too. And I have sisters? So that’s awesome. And yeah, he had this friend who passed away when he was younger, and he always wanted to name his son after him, but then Mom disappeared and he only ended up having daughters, so when he found me, it kind of worked out.” He hesitated. “I’m Damian. Damian Raphael Harker.”

“That’s such a cool name,” Erin sighed.

Raph—Damian—tilted his head back to grin at her. “Yours is cool, too.”

“Shut up,” she said fondly.

“No, seriously,” he said emphatically. “Your name is unspeakably cool.”

There was something odd in his tone, sticking up and catching like a loose nail. It bothered her, the same way something Angelique said earlier had bothered her.

“Hey, Ra—Damian?” Erin said cautiously. “Earlier, when Angelique sat down with us, she didn’t recognize me.”

“She does, don’t worry.”

“No, she didn’t,” Erin pressed. “It took her a second to realize who I was, and she stopped herself from saying why.”

Suddenly Damian looked deeply uncomfortable. “I, uh.”

She took a deep breath. “Was I dead in your time?”

“Wh-no! No no no no, of course not!” Damian looked horrified. “We played Pathfinder like last week, you’re not dead.”

“What’s Path—no, never mind. Something’s clearly up. If we just played whatever-that-is last week, and Angelique is your wife, then why didn’t she know who I was?”

“Uh…” Damian’s hands had worked their way deep into his sleeves. “You look different, that’s all. You kind of reinvented yourself in college.”

“Oh,” Erin said, momentarily relieved. Then— “Wait.”

“What?’

“Damian. You’d—” She hesitated. “If I was a guy, you’d tell me, right?’

“Oh my God,” Damian mumbled into his be-sweatered hands.

“Damian.”

“You’re... not...”

“You’d tell me, right?”

“See, I don’t know if I would!” Damian answered, in a strained high-pitched tone. “That’s—look. If you were a guy, that’s something you’d have to work out for yourself!”

“Damian, I swear to God.”

“I can’t crack your egg for you, that’s like violating the Prime Directive!”

Erin seized a pillow and started to buffet him with it. “You are such a nerd!”

“It’s your personal journey, you can’t use me to cheat!” Damian cackled, fending her off with a plush horse.

***

“Yeah I’ll get the banana split.” Angie bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes raking over the array of toppings. “Can you put caramel and chocolate sauce on it? And Heath bar pieces, chopped strawberries, and M&Ms.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

It took all of her self-control not to press her nose against the glass as she watched them make it. Some small part of her balked at the sight of three huge scoops of ice cream and all the toppings, but she quieted it. She had a second shot at being a teenager, and that meant never taking her garbage disposal stomach and body made of rubber bands for granted ever again.

She hummed absently to herself, only to pause halfway through the tune. How did it go again? She tried repeating the first half, only to get stuck at the same spot. Oh, this was going to bug the crap out of her. It wasn’t like she could look it up, not when the song wouldn’t come out for almost ten years—

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she checked it absentmindedly, zeroing in for a moment on the DAD displayed on the screen. After a moment, she put it back without answering. If it was that important, he could text.

Sure enough, her phone gave a short buzz. New text message—he hadn’t even bothered to leave a voicemail.

DAD I need you to talk to your brother.

Angie checked her banana split’s progress with a glance, and replied.

lol why

DAD He’s not listening to me. We both know the courts favor the mother so if we’re going to beat her I need both of you on your A game.

Angie ground her teeth until her jaw creaked.

what do you need me to do

DAD Just coach him on how to talk about her. You’re a smart lady, I know you can do it. He’s always getting scuffed up at practice, just have him say the bruises came from her. Throw in a drinking problem if you have to, just keep your stories straight.

why father dearest i’m surprised at you you want me to lie under oath?

DAD Just talk to him, will you? Keep your stories straight, don’t get too outlandish, and we’ll get out of this with everything we want. You’ll never have to hear the word no again, I promise.

ok daddy ill do my best!

DAD Good girl. You’re the smartest girl I know. Smarter than your mom, smarter than her bitch lawyer. Love you!

“Order up!”

Angie brought her banana split to the table with the clearest view of the door. It took her a moment to decide how to begin, then nearly a full minute balancing equal parts ice cream, banana, and toppings in a single spoonful. She managed it in the end.

Mood lifted, she unlocked her phone again and made a call. “Heeeey, Anika.”

“Need I remind you that phone calls are billable,” her mother’s lawyer said dryly.

“Yeah, I’ll be quick, I have some incriminating text messages I think you’ll be interested in?”

The sound of rustling papers paused. “Go on…?”

“Dad just told me to lie to the judge,” Angie explained, twirling a thin ribbon of caramel around her spoon. “And to coach Eric to lie to the judge. I took screenshots.”

Anika cursed softly under her breath. “Thank you for telling me. Send them to your mom, okay? Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

The bell above the ice cream parlor door jingled, and Angie perked up as both Damian (Raph?) and Erin walked in. She waved them over, grinning when both pairs of eyes widened at her treat.

“That thing’s half the size of your head,” Erin pointed out.

“Sure is, you guys came just in time.” Angie nudged it across the table, along with the two extra spoons. “If we split it, I’ll have enough room for a milkshake chaser.”

“You’re a monster,” Damian said delightedly. “Oh shit, are those Heath bars?” He dug in without waiting for an answer.

“They’re peanut butter cups,” she said solemnly, once he’d taken a bite and could probably tell they weren’t. “I added them just to hurt you.” Damian rolled his eyes and dug his spoon back in.

Erin stared at her, probably still baffled by the gentle banter, but at least she looked more curious than infuriated, like instead of being suspicious she simply didn’t know what to make of Angie.

“So, you guys talked?” Angie asked carefully. “Are we… all good?”

“I think so,” Damian replied, shooting a cautious glance at Erin.

“You’re on thin ice,” Erin informed her as she helped herself to the chocolate scoop.

“Fair.” Angie didn’t remember Erin putting up quite as much of a fight, but then, it had been years when they’d reconnected before. This time around, it was still fresh.

“The ice cream helps,” Erin added, slightly muffled by the spoon in her mouth.

“Noted.” Angie paused, weighed her options, and shrugged. No harm no foul, probably. “Hey, you’re a musician, right?”

Erin swallowed. “Yeah, why?”

“And not just a performer, but you write music too, right?”

“Yeeaaah?” Erin squinted suspiciously. Beside her, Damian shot Angie a warning glare.

“If I give you half a tune, could you resolve it?”

Erin was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. “Probably.”

“Great!” Angie hummed the earworm from earlier. “How would the next part go?”

Erin repeated it to herself, nodding along. After a moment, she said, “Probably like—”

And sure enough, there it was. The rest of the chorus’s tune came rushing back to Angie’s memory, and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks! That was driving me nuts.” Angie returned to her banana split, ignoring Damian’s growing scowl.

Later, when Erin was in the bathroom and  Angelique was standing in line to order her promised milkshake, Damian dug his elbow into her side. “You’re not as slick as you think you are,” he muttered.

“What?” Angie said innocently. “I didn’t give anything away.”

“You just taught her half the chorus of a song she’s eight years away from writing!”

“I’ve planted a seed,” Angie insisted. “I’ve created a stable time loop.”

“That is not what you did and you know it.” Damian pursed his lips, clearly trying to stay annoyed with her. “I barely avoided spoiling her transition, and that’s after she asked me to my face.”

Angie grinned. “So you haven’t told her she’s a genderfluid punk rocker yet?”

“No. Because she’s not a genderfluid punk rocker yet.”

“And now, when she becomes one,” Angie said with a smile, “she’s going to look back on this day and laugh.”

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Helloooow

could u maybe do a Hector with a very short gf (like 4’11-5’0 short)? That would be very appreciated <3

I loveee ur writing 🤍

pequeña.

masterlist requests word count: 1.2k

a/n: i'm not sure i did this one justice, but i've tried 😭 genre: fluff. warnings: teasing about being short.

summary: you're short. hector's tall. and he loves to tease you about it.

You’re barely standing on your tiptoes, arms stretched like crazy, fingers just brushing the top shelf of the cupboard when a shadow looms behind you.

“Seriously?” Héctor’s voice is warm with laughter. “Again?”

You don’t even turn around. You’re too focused. The unopened bag of tortilla chips is right there. You’re so close. You give one last desperate jump, fingers swiping at the plastic…

...and then a hand casually plucks it from the shelf like it was nothing.

You turn with a scowl, already knowing who you’re glaring at. He’s standing smugly behind you, still in his training gear, hair all messy and windblown. Tall. Smirky. The love of your life and also the bane of your existence.

“I had it,” you grumble, snatching the bag from his hand.

“You didn’t,” he says, grinning. “You were doing that little tiptoe dance. It was cute, though.”

“I wasn’t being cute, I was being independent.”

“You can be both.”

You huff and shove past him, but you’re smiling. Barely. You climb up onto the kitchen stool and start opening the chips with much more force than necessary. You can feel him watching you from behind.

“What?” you say, not looking at him.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how the stool’s taller than you.”

You whip around and throw a chip at him. He dodges it easily, still grinning.

“I could fight you,” you declare.

Héctor steps closer, towering in that stupidly casual way he does, until he’s standing between your knees with his hands on either side of you, resting on the counter. “I’d let you win,” he says softly.

You narrow your eyes. “You do think I’m cute.”

He leans in until your noses nearly touch. “I think you’re the cutest thing to ever walk the earth.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, but your heart’s pounding all stupid and fast because he’s so close and he’s still sweaty from training and he smells like cologne and grass and you kind of want to die a little bit. But like, in a happy way.

“You’re annoying,” you mutter.

“Mm, but you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He kisses your cheek, and you know you’ve lost the battle. Again.

The height jokes started early. They started on the first date, actually, when you’d stepped out of your apartment and Héctor had blinked down at you and gone, “You weren’t kidding.”

“I told you I was small,” you’d said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you meant pocket-sized.”

You’d kicked him in the shin for that. Playfully. He hadn’t even flinched. Of course, he hadn’t. His legs are like tree trunks.

But instead of making you self-conscious, he’d leaned into it with this weird, unshakable admiration. Like he was constantly amazed by you. Like every time you struggled to reach something or wore his hoodie and drowned in it or stood next to him in a photo, he just fell in love a little harder.

Once, he called you “travel-sized for convenience.” You’d hit him with a throw pillow. He’d called you “dangerously cute” in retaliation. It was a cycle.

You’re getting ready for bed when he does it again.

You’re brushing your teeth, wearing one of his massive shirts that reaches past your knees, and he walks into the bathroom behind you. He sees you standing on your tiptoes at the sink, just so you can spit properly into it, and he laughs.

You glare at him through the mirror, toothpaste foam around your mouth. “Say something,” you dare him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he says, totally lying.

You rinse and wipe your face. He comes up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on top of your head like it’s his favorite thing. You roll your eyes and try to shrug him off. You fail. He’s too strong, and you’re kind of secretly obsessed with how effortlessly he manhandles you.

“You make me feel like a garden gnome,” you mumble.

“You’re my garden gnome,” he says, voice soft.

You blink. “Was that supposed to be romantic?”

He shrugs, still hugging you. “Kind of.”

You twist in his arms to face him. He smiles down at you, and it’s unfair. His eyelashes are so long it should be illegal.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, resting his forehead on yours. “I love how little you are. I feel like I get to protect you all the time.”

“You do not need to protect me.”

“I know. You’re scrappy.” He kisses your nose. “But still.”

You narrow your eyes. “You just like that you can lift me without breaking a sweat.”

“That too.”

You’re waiting in the front hallway when he gets home, still in your cozy socks and one of his hoodies that fits more like a dress on you. You hear the keys before the door clicks open, and then there he is, kicking off his shoes, hair damp from a quick shower at the facility, eyes lighting up the second he sees you.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he says, voice soft as he sets his bag down.

You shrug. “I wanted to.”

He smiles, walks over, and pulls you into him like it’s the only thing he’s been looking forward to all day. You melt instantly, burying your face in his chest, his arms wrapping all the way around you with room to spare.

“You’re warm,” you mumble into his hoodie.

“You’re tiny,” he replies, grinning against the top of your head.

Without warning, his hands slide under your thighs and he picks you up like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You squeal, instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala.

“Héctor!” you scold, laughing. “Warn me next time!”

“No,” he says simply, turning toward the couch with you still clinging to him. “You’re meant to be carried.”

“Says who?”

“Says gravity. And me. Mostly me.”

You roll your eyes. “I could walk.”

“Yeah, but this way, I get to hold all of you at once.”

You try to keep your face neutral, but the blush gives you away. He notices. Of course he does.

“Shut up,” you grumble as he sits down, keeping you in his lap like it’s second nature. Like you’re meant to be there.

“Didn’t say anything,” he says, kissing your temple. “But you’re awfully cute when you’re flustered.”

You fake a groan, tucking yourself further into him. He just chuckles and holds you tighter, like the size of you fits perfectly against the size of him. Like he wouldn’t change a thing.

Later that night, you’re curled up in bed together. You’ve taken your spot on his chest, half on top of him, one leg thrown across his waist. He’s running his fingers lazily through your hair. His voice is soft.

“I think the universe made you this small just so I’d always have an excuse to hold you.”

You’re half asleep, but that makes you open your eyes and look up at him. “You’re sappy.”

“I’m in love.”

You sigh dramatically. “I guess I can live with that.”

He grins. “You’re my favorite little thing.”

“I swear to God, if you call me bite-sized one more time-”

“Bite-sized. Fun-sized. Compact. Petite. Perfect.”

You smack him with a pillow. He kisses your forehead anyway.

And yeah, maybe you’re small. But with him, you never feel anything less than huge.

[moonshynecybin]

bez trying not to smile about marc 🥴 it's all I want to think about

god i know !!!!!! sorry okay i wrote some fic about them in the spirit of motogp summer camp bc i want my new pairing badge lmao. and can i say thank you so much for organizing that bc it’s been such a fun and galvanizing force for the community like trulyyyy so fresh and lovely. yayyy okay here’s 2k marcbez omegaverse that still kinda ends up being about vale but i tried okay !!!

Marquez smells good.

And Marquez usually smells okay. Bez doesn’t get too close to him often, but when he does it creeps in on the edges of things: bright, a little bitter, a little chemical. Gas, rubber, tarmac. Like when you uncap a permanent marker and the smell punches you in the gut, goes to your head and makes you dizzy. Makes you blink hard.

He doesn’t smell it often— and when he does, it’s faint. Just a whiff like its coming from the next room. He always thought Marquez just might not have a scent that travels. Some people don’t really project like that. He also thought— yeah, he thought Marc might be a beta like his brother, the burning scent complimenting the peppery citrus wash of Alex that Bez can smell when his leathers are down.

He was probably wrong about that, though, because today it’s everywhere. Strong, heavy, crawling over the paddock like a dense, drugging fog, and Bez doesn’t know exactly why—but he has a few guesses.

Someone props open a door and it floats in with the breeze. Pecco wrinkles his nose. Bez takes in a big lungful—feels it drip, trickle down through his spine and buzz at the edge of his nerve endings like a shot of coffee. If before it was a gut-punch, now it’s a bullet— sharper and definitely more dangerous. Not something he can just go and walk off.

“Jesus— who is that?” Pecco asks.

Bez counts down the unmated alphas in the paddock— Him. Some mechanics. Franky. Vale. None of them really people Marc would go to, probably. Franky and Vale— definitely not, and a mechanic would be too weird.

“Marquez.” He answers Pecco after a thick second, slower than he should, his tongue heavy and clumsy in his mouth. He tries to breathe through his nose and escape the pressure of the smell pushing down on him. Instead— he can taste it.

He reaches down and adjusts his dick in his shorts. Marc in leathers. Marc pushing him on track. Bez’s last podium, a win, when Marc pushed at his shoulder, eyes sparking at the kid he trains with crossing over the finish line on the shitty conference room TV. Gas, diesel, rubber. No one in front of him but tarmac. Bez likes riding alone, does Marc? He’s alone right now, and he smells like that, and Bez doesn’t think anyone is doing anything about it.

When he was 16, Bez visited the paddock— he met Marc for the first time on the heels of that insane 2014 season. Bez had looked at the way he threw the bike into corners and around other riders, the sheer aggressive force of it, and thought, that’s the kind of competitor I want to be.

Now— he needs to figure out the time attack. Maybe Marc knows how to fix the Aprilia that Bez has been saddled with, all alone. Maybe he should go ask him. He exhales. Blinks hard.

But Bez doesn’t want to be friends with Marquez, so he makes a point not to think about stuff like that. And he wouldn’t be thinking about it, except—

“Alex?” Pecco wonders, back to the topic of the owner of the smell.

“What? No, it’s Marc. You’ve never smelt Marc before? You spend half your life in the box with him.”

Pecco’s also an omega— Marc’s an omega. Two of them on one team, that’s never happened before, as far as he knows. Omega noses— they’re usually not so good with each other, so Pecco wouldn’t have noticed the dulled version of his smell if Marc was on scent blockers. Which means that Marc must be off his scent blockers for some reason— an emergency heat, maybe? Bez can’t think of why.

He scrapes blunt nails over the side of his neck. Focuses on where all ten of his toes meet the floor, staples himself hard to the Earth so he doesn’t bolt. Jesus.

“He’s gotta be in heat.” He continues. He has to be alone, fucking himself on some toy and wishing it had a knot.

“The Marquezes smell the same to me.” Pecco rejoins, which is an insane thing to say that Bez ignores. Pecco raises one eyebrow and leans back, a little prim. He looks over Bez and then says, slowly, like he’s really thinking it over, “If his blockers failed— He should take care of that soon, that’s dangerous.”

“With who, though?” Bez asks. Him. Some mechanics. Franky. Vale.

Did Vale ever laugh at Marc’s jokes, after all that mess? Should Bez, now? Bez should ask him, he’s in the paddock today. He should ask him about Marc, or about what it means when an omega goes into heat like this, when they don’t mean to be. Because there’s a race tomorrow, and there’s no way Marc means to be. Vale would know, if something needed to be done.

Franky would just smile at him, slow, and tell him that he should be able to figure it out.

Bez isn’t going to ask any mechanics.

Big breath in. Gasoline. Rubber. Two race weekends ago— a smile he couldn’t stop from coming to his own face. Marc tapping his leg, eyes black like polished stones. That dumb sunscreen ad that came up on his instagram explore page— Marquez in shorts, dick big and folded soft in the fabric of his swim trunks. Scars shiny in the sun like lighting over skin.

Bez decides not to ask Vale anything.

He stands up, thrumming. Balls his hoodie up in front of the crotch of his pants, embarrassed. Some mechanics. Franky. Vale.

Him.

“Do you know where Mig is?”

Pecco looks up from his data sheet. Scans Bez with his steady eyes and says, “I haven’t seen him, why?”

“I have to ask him something,” Bez mumbles, an excuse neither of them believe, and pushes himself over the doorframe, led by his hard cock and his nose and the memory of meeting Marc when he was 16 and he doesn’t know what. A smile, maybe. His or Marc’s, he doesn’t know.

He staggers over to where the riders are staying. He always liked the smell of rubber.

XXXXX

The line of motorhomes doesn’t smell like rubber— it smells like it’s on fire.

Bez throbs, sweaty and achey. Feels filthy as he makes his way over to knock on the navy and red door. He doesn’t know if this is even going to work.

“Marc— do you need help?” He calls, and no one answers. He curses out loud when he remembers he said it in Italian. He tries, searching— clumsy Spanish.

There’s silence, then shuffling. A bang.

After a moment, Marc opens the door, shirtless and steaming, wisps of water evaporating off of him with the heat of his skin. He must have just gotten out of the shower. Dark hair curls just behind his ears. He’s holding his towel out awkwardly around his waist, like he’s hard and sensitive. Bez can see it poking against the fabric anyway. Another gut punch, another bullet.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see— do you need help?” Marc blinks and Bez shuffles. “Just, you know. There aren’t many alphas in the paddock. And you—”

He gestures at him with one hand. Regrets it kind of immediately.

Marc’s eyes, black with how wide his pupils have been blown to, drop to the bundle of his hoodie held over his cock. It twitches and Bez hunches forwards. “I mean, of course. Only if you want—“

Marc licks his lips. Sniffs at the air and probably tries to catch some of Bez on the wind.

“Is this a joke? Did anyone send you?”

“What?” Bez blinks. He cannot think right now, with this much skin in front of him, and he decides to talk instead. “No, the whole paddock can smell you. I mean fuck, Pecco noticed. I thought, I guess. You know.”

He trails off, then swallows. Comes down to the heart of it. “If you want to use me. I’m here.”

Marc looks around, weighing his options. He looks like he’s expecting something to to pop out behind Bez, eyes all flighty and all over the place. A reporter, maybe.

“Pecco noticed?”

Bez nods and Marc curses. He chews on his lip, then considers Bez. Looks him up and down like he’s a horse to be sold. “And what, you would—?”

“Yes, yes— really. No, no problem.” He throws him a weak smile, then tilts his head to the side so Marc can see some of his neck.

Marc snorts, then stares around another second. He pinches his brow. Bez notices— his hands are shaking a little. He must be pretty deep in.

He makes a decision.

“Fuck— alright, fine.”

He hauls Bez in and shuts the door.

There’s a second’s hesitation, and then Marc just drops the hand holding up his towel, and he’s naked and so fucking hot in front of him. He fits their mouths together, desperate just like Bez is, and Bez’s hips move like they’re on a string, pushing forwards and grinding against him before he can think.

Bez gasps, and Marc presses his advantage.

It’s quick, a blur, and then his clothes are tangling down around his ankles and he’s spread out on the couch. The feeling hits him hard, dizzying, like he can’t breathe and doesn’t want to, and then Marc is holding his dick in his big hand and sitting down on him, ass hot and soft and wet enough to drip, getting Bez’s balls slick. He swallows hard, thumbing hard at the bony hollow of Marc���s hip.

Marc’s bright eyes watch him.

“Okay,” He says, trying to keep it together— and his throat betrays him, makes a dry sort of aborted whine. It’s fine though, because Marc flashes him the hint of a smile, throat a deep warm gold, and Bez feels fucking stupid and doesn’t care, lets his head loll back against the ridge of the couch, mindless with the places Marc is touching him.

There’s a second— an adjustment, and then it’s slick and easy with his heat, and Marc starts to ride him fast and hard. He braces himself against Bez’s shoulders, pushes him down and keeps him there— and Bez had offered, but Marc has clearly listened, and he puts him where he wants him, his cock hard enough that it hurts, knot about ready to fucking pop just from the way this looks, Marc’s dick bobbing up and down as he works himself, his hands scorching hot as they dig into Bez’s collarbones. Silent concentration on the sharp planes of his face.

The world degrades into Marc, and into sensation: his tight ass dragging on Bez’s cock, his knees on the outside of Bez’s thighs, two devastating points of contact. The sound of them coming together. The punched out noises Marc is making. He closes his eyes, twitching, then opens them again, dazed, chasing the image.

The smell is everywhere. He feels like he’s been struck over the head. Bez is gonna come.

“Wait,” Marc pants a command, voice hard and cracking even as he bears down, a hot squeeze on Bez’s dick. Bez didn’t realize he spoke out loud, or maybe Marc can just tell from the way his breath has gone harsh and fast, bellowing like a horse. “Wait, not yet,”

Fuck, alright. He palms Marc’s waist, feels the way his hips flex as he rocks up and down. Bites down hard on his lip and tastes salty iron blood. His hips rabbit up once, twice. His knot pops.

“Shit,” He comes sticky hot up in him, panting like a kid who ran too hard and too long, damp against Marc’s neck. It burns through him, gas on wood, hot and fast. Face blotchy and breath wet.

“Goddamn it,” Marc says, broken and horrible.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bez cries, and tries to keep fucking him, but his knot has caught— he can’t.

“Stay fucking still,” Marc pants, and grabs himself, hand working over his stupid big dick, hips fucking back in tiny jerks on Bez’s knot. “Fuck, just don’t move,”

So Bez lays there, head digging into the edge of Marc’s couch, and stares at the shine on Marc’s forehead, his top lip, his abs. Tries to be still for him, shaking with the effort. Sun hits his skin through the gap in the curtains and lights him up— another scar for Bez to stare at, or think about touching. He groans, humiliated. The back of his neck burns. Marc needs more, and Bez can— he can try.

There’s another knock at the door— more sounds. A voice Bez recognizes. Italian. He freezes, ice shot through his veins. Marc’s hand speeds up, his mouth open and pretty and shocked.

“Marc!” Vale pounds on the door. “Open up! Fuck! Let me in, everyone can smell you from here to Jerez. Are you off your blockers?”

At the sound— Marc wails, and he locks up. Comes messily up on his chest in wet, dragging pulses.

The voice outside falls silent. He heard them.

Bez trembles.

He remembers his list.

Him. Some mechanics. Franky.

Vale.

When his knot goes down— Marc climbs off of him with shaky knees, and doesn’t say a word.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Red Mercedes

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: Perfect married life sometimes hides the rotten truth of lies.

Warnings: cheating, slight manipulation, George getting what’s his at all cost, curse words and smut implication

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: After a frustrating week of not having any good ideas, I had a dream, so I finally had something to pour my heart into. It was so intense that it didn't let me eat my lunch, how fast my fingers drummed at the keyboard and my thoughts flew out of my brain. Enjoy it! :) wanted to include my favorite pregnancy trope, but i decided to not go that way this time

———

“Dad, I’m trying to tell you that mum is acting weird.” Your twelve year old son was travelling with George to Cayman Island for this event he was invited to, to speak about his ongoing career path as a leading F1 champion. 

George glanced at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel, regally upset about the fact that even your son noticed that something isn't right with your marriage.

“Mum is just tired. That’s all.” he tried to brush it off, but he knew. 

“You know, dad, I’m not stupid. I saw her with some man a week ago, sitting at the restaurant when we were out on a bike with boys. She was smiling at him like… Well, not like she’s smiling at you.” his son continued to ponder with his thoughts, pouring his mind out, making George feel uneasy. Pulling over at the hotel they were supposed to stay at, engine off, he turned his body to face his son.

“Buddy, I know that you love your mom, hell, who could not love her.. But she’s- it’s just a phase. I’m gonna figure it out, and you have nothing to worry about.” he tried to reassure him with his soft smile, his eyes betraying him, reflecting the weight of the growing lies.

———

“I see that you’re here with your son, he grew so much throughout the years, aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna be after you soon, you know, with racing and stuff?” 

George chuckled, moving his gaze at his giggling son in the first row, his sweaty palm wrapped around the microphone. “Well, there is the possibility, but his hobbies are different. He’s much more of a cyclist, so I think that Tadej Pogacar should be scared of having another rival.” 

“Oh, that’s great! Guess the Russell’s family is spreading through the field of sports. It’s a shame that your wife isn’t here with us, we had planned to have a family photo shoot for you, also spending some time on the yacht with the staff here.” 

George was professional at keeping his composure, so he just chuckled again, looking at the crowd of people in the small room.

“We can do that anyway, we don’t need my wife for that. She’s busy with some of her other projects, so…” 

Everybody seemed to be happy about it, not noticing the slight frown on George’s face and his son’s.

You were staying at home in Monaco, texting with your lover. Your naive brain was living in an illusion that nobody knows, you sneaking around with someone else, secret meetings at the old restaurant on the other side of the town, your red luxurious Mercedes parked in front of it very often. You were really dumb in some aspects and being so careless about getting after your own desires, you hurt your family in the process.

All those years of your marriage you heard it around you all the time, how George is a gentleman, kind guy, loving and caring husband and father, how every other woman would die for having him just for at least five minutes. But nobody saw that toll that had an impact on you, your life when you fell pregnant unexpectedly, and how George married you just because of it. Feeding you with all those empty promises, but leaving you alone through all that maternity shit because he was at the peak of his career while you were breastfeeding his restless son at night.

Yeah, there were times you were genuinely happy as a family, somewhere between the three to ten years of your son, George was more present, you accompanied him at races from time to time, depending on how his and your parents were willing to look after your kid. 

But the last two years felt like a nightmare, because George won another two championships after five years of no luck, his fans being literally everywhere, even breaking into your home. You spent a lot of time on the go, changing your location and you grew tired of this. Intimity between you and George was long gone, and you yearned for something he couldn’t give you, the tension, secrecy and passion. Even if it meant to destroy everything you have.

———

Darkness overtook the docks in Monaco, rain washing away the summer heat wave. George stood at the huge ass window of your penthouse, sipping on his whiskey, even though he did not favour the liquid that much, he got used to it from time to time. Your son was away for the holiday cycling camp, and with summer break in F1, it left him home alone with the lingering scent of your expensive perfume you saved for your not so secret lover. His mind wandered over divorce, but he was too prideful to let it happen. He didn’t care about your needs, shameful desires, he wanted to keep his family together. Even if it meant to ruin your sweet secret life. And he knew his plan was working the minute you stepped into your home through the threshold, sobbing quietly, with your dress soaked through, droplets of water dripping down your hair. His lips curling into smirk, he took the last sip of his drink, leaving the glass on the coffee table in the living room, walking slowly to the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, running your hands through your wet hair, wiping off your tears along the way, your mascara staining your cheeks. Feeling how your dress is sticking to your body, you let out a frustrated sigh with a whine, finally noticing George standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest wearing an unreadable expression.

“What’s the matter baby?” his tone was laced with smugness, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, seeing the mess you were.

“Nothing.” you muttered, trying to walk around him to get to the bathroom, but he was after you.

“You’re clearly distressed. Tell me what happened. You were supposed to have a night out with girls, if I remember correctly?” yeah, he was playing dumb.

“I was. But my car left me in the parking lot, because the smoke started to go out of the engine and I needed to call the towing service and-” you stopped in your rant abruptly as you got to the part you wanted to erase from your memory and you didn’t want to talk about it with George.

“And? Tell me darling.” his tone was firm, demanding, he caged your body against the counter in the bathroom.

You looked up to see his face, locking your gaze with his, reading his mind. He knew. And yet he was still there.

“He left me.” with your head slumped down you whispered feeling deeply ashamed. 

George smiled victoriously as the memory from earlier this week flashed through his mind, him paying that pathetic lover of yours loads of money to leave you, to ruin you, to destroy you.

“Oh baby.” he cooed sweetly, cupping that mascara stained cheeks of yours, listening to your sobs. And that was the last straw and you broke down in tears, all of the suppressed emotions flowing out as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, remorse and guilt building in your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” you whispered into his chest, your tears staining his shirt. 

“Shhh… I’m right here baby. It’s okay.” his fingers brushed through your hair affectionately, making you relax.

“You should be disgusted with me…” 

“Believe me, I was at first. But from your point of view I somehow understood it.” 

“How… How long have you known?”

“Since the first time you giggled at your phone.”

“I thought that I’m good at hiding it.” 

“Oh, you were so naive that I won’t notice. You weren’t even creative at hiding your car properly. That exclusive red shade of it doesn't go unnoticed. Even our son saw you many times.” 

You shuddered when you felt his lips ghosting against your temple. The mention of your son stabbed you through your heart. 

“George, I-” 

“Shhh, darling. Your stupid boyfriend ditched you, so let your husband, the man who truly knows how to devour you, take care of you.” George whispered with a soft hum, his lips pressed under your ear.

The way he talked made you feel ashamed. But it ignited something within you, the lust and desire for him. And it made you curse internally at how dumb you were for the past years.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to.” 

After the night to remember when George really took you like a slut you were, listening to your whines and moans, making you tell him how that lover made you feel, what he did to you, he made sure that you won’t escape his embrace again. Watching you sleep beside him, your body covered in love bruises and marks he hasn’t seen on you for months, he brushed the strand of your hair from your face, smiling proudly at how easy you were. All those years he thought you’re this soft and reserved girl who likes vanilla in bed, only to find out that you loved to be cock drunk all the time, overstimulated to the madness to keep your mind from wandering outside of the wedlock. 

“You were so wrong to think that I’d let you go, my beautiful wife…” and his whisper lingered through your sleeping brain like a lullaby.

-

Please don't use my writings without a permission. Pictures found on Pinterest.

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[natailiatulls07]

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - A little walk to Pascale salon turns into an anxiety attack because of some intrusive fans (I have changed the request slightly, I hope you don't mind x)

Warning - Mention of Jules Bianchi, fans being intrusive, anxiety attack (It's not that descriptive), multiple mentions of being in the public eye/limelight

A/n - Tumblr is being a bit weird rn so I'm gonna try and post this again lol x

Marguerite

-

Being in the public eye does have its consequences, espercially when your father is considered a formula one legend and your guardian/older brother is a very popular current formula one driver.

One of these consequences is anxiety, it's something Y/n developed from a very young age. Of course she has her coping mechanisms and the people in her inner circle know how to help her.

-

It was a slow day for Marguerite. She didn't have any classes and she'd have the apartment to herself today. Usually she'd have Tom, her boyfriend, round to hang out but he was busy.

The day started out okay; Y/n had caught up with any unfinished assignments before relaxing in the living room. Rewatching her favourite show and playing with Leo.

Alexandra and Charles were out all day, leaving the dog with the younger girl. Charles had a press event for his ice cream brand, Lec, and Y/n knew that it'd be hard to contact the pair.

Normally Marguerite would join them, but she felt as though she hadn't stopped recently. Between grand prixs, school, social events and travel, she hadn't had a proper break in a long while. Don't get me wrong; she loves her life and she's forever grateful for the privileges, opportunities and things she gets but a girl needs a break ever so often.

Around about half day, she decided that Leo and herself needed some fresh air so Y/n quickly got everything ready. Hooking the lead to Leo's collar, allowing the excited dog to slip through the front door before following in suit.

Marguerite was wearing a basic outfit, no effort at all, just hoping that she wouldn't be recognized. Particularly in Monaco, Y/n is usually seen and recongized.

"Right, let's go Leo.."

-

The sun shined down on Y/n and Leo as they casually strolled past the harbour, she thought about walking up to Le Quai 28. It had been a long time since she's seen Pascale.

Yeah it was a bit of a walk but that meant less time confined to a stuffy apartment which was needed.

They were half way there when things started to go down hill. The sun had decided to hide behind a grey gloomy cloud. With a soft huff, Marguerite quickened the pace hoping to avoid the impending rain.

But her new pace came to a stop when three girls, alittle bit older than her, came rushing to her. They all had excited and giddy smiles on their faces. It scared her slightly.

"Hey, we love you, Charles, Alexandra! Oh and Leo, like oh my god hi!" Y/n knew they meant well but the continuous squeals and giggle made her slightly uncomfortable. Espercially today, she wasn't feeling social interactions with strangers really.

In her hand Marguerite felt Leo trying to tug on the lead, just like her he was just as uncomfortable.

But it only got worse. The sudden attention on Marguerite caused more people to notice her and Leo. She painted a forced smile to her face, the smile not meeting her eyes - not that anyone really noticed. More people started to crowd around her.

"Can you give me a shoutout on your social media? It would mean the world to me!"

"Y/n! Y/n! Can I have a photo please?"

"What's your favorite memory of Jules? It must be incredible to grow up as his daughter!"

That last comment stung slightly. Y/n loved to honour her late father but sometimes when strangers ask about her childhood with him, it's something she wants to keep for herself.

To her, it felt intrusive. You wouldn’t go up to a random stranger asking about their favourite memory from childhood.

Looking down Marguerite noticed how flustered and unsettled the poor small dog had gotten. Quickly she bent down to pick him up which relaxed him luckily.

"Excuse me, I- I would love to stay, chat and take photos...but I have to be somewhere.." She felt her pulse pick up and her smile fell slight before she was quick to bring the corners of lips up again.

After pushing past the crowd, her quick pace was resumed only this time alittle bit quicker.

Everything had flipped upside down for Marguerite, her anxiety had gone crazy unfortunately.

Tears clouded on her waterline, quick and short intakes of breaths pushed passed her lips. She hadn't put down Leo yet, she wasn't even planning on doing so.

Y/n wanted to call Charles and Alexandra but she knew that she wouldn't get an answer so making a mad dash to Pascale would be her best option.

It didn't take long for the two to arrive at Pascales salon, rushing in as the tears started to fall over a plump cheeks. Heads turned but they all knew her. Pascale was excited to see the young girl and the small dog, however that excitement fell short when she noticed the anxiety attack happening.

She moved towards the teen, taking Marguerite into her arms. Pascale had a slight idea of what had happened. It wasn't the first time.

She spent the next hour calming down Y/n, letting her and Leo relax in the back office. After a while, the older women decided that she'd call Charles to take Marguerite home.

First call…ringtone.

Second call…ringtone.

Third times a charm…ringtone.

Her shoulders slumped at the unsuccessful third attempt, her manicured nails raking through her hair. As much as she loved Marguerite and Leo, Pascale knew this wasn’t the place for her to be in this state - She needed to be home.

“I think you might have to wait here for a little while Marguerite…until Charles or Alexandra pick up..”

Pascale had sympathy for the young girl, growing up in the limelight wasn’t something that came easy to anyone really.

-

Around about two hours later, Y/n’s phone started to buzz and Charles’ photo filled her screen. She was quick to pick up the phone and answer the call.

“Hi Charlie..”

Her voice was quiet and soft. And little sniffles came from her nose every so often.

On the other side of the call stood Alexandra and Charles back at the apartment, both confused as to where the teenager and the dog had gone.

“Hey Marguerite, where are you? Are you alright?” His voice was filled with concern and confusion. He was glad to hear her voice but it sounded different.

“Y-yeah…I’m with Pascale and Leo at the salon…” Charles watched as Alexandra picks up his keys, they’d meet her at the salon. “Charlie…I had an anxiety attack..”

You see the driver knew of her anxiety, he was similar and they could relate to each other. But it broke him to know that he wasn’t there to help her in a time in need, something he vowed to the late Jules to do in his honour.

Y/n took in another breath of air, relaxing herself once again. “I was walking with Leo and then…a bunch of fans came and bombarded me…really shook me”

There were annoyed frowns on the older couples faces, they truly love the fans but especially not when they do things like that. They just wished they’d understand respect and privacy.

“Okay..I’m so sorry Marguerite, we’re on our way to the salon now…you and Leo sit tight and relax”

Alexandra’s voice rang through the phone call, she always had a reassuring tone to her voice - Something Y/n always really appreciated.

“Hmm…guys?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you and thank you…” Their hearts just swelled.

“We love you too Marguerite..” Charles voice echoed back through to her, making sure she felt that same love and thankfulness she had for them.

-

[nochedie]

with you | dean winchester 💡

pairing: dean winchester x reader, pre series

genre: a bit of angst then some fluff

wordcount: 2.4k

summary: you’ve been hunting with john and dean for a long time now, and you finally snap after john berates dean one too many times

a/n: fuck john winchester! 🫶🏼

you walked through the dimly lit concrete pathway outside the motel you, dean, and john were holed up in tonight, rounding the corner and seeing the light on in the room you were all sharing. you could see the outline of the father and son arguing and you couldn’t hold back your eyeroll.

every night was the same, ever since you started hunting with them. you could see from dean’s face everytime his dad was giving him an earful, he really believed it. he believed everything. sometimes it would get so heated, that john would tell dean it was his fault sam left. that he was supposed to protect him, and anything that he was exposed to that made him feel any different was because of dean. of course that wasn’t true. but it didn’t stop dean from believing it anyway.

ever since he was small, the responsibility of raising his brother was all up to him. he was only four years old when his mother died, when their entire life changed. nothing would ever be normal again. he lost his mother, sure, but he lost his dad too. he had to make sure sam was safe, when he needed someone to make sure he was safe. he was only a child.

throughout your travels, you had grown to resent john as fervently as you loved dean. you longed never to see john’s face again, but that would mean that you wouldn’t get to see dean’s.

you knew john disliked you just as much as you disliked him, and there was a simple reason for it: he saw how dean looked at you. he saw you as a distraction, putting dean at risk. only reason he was acting like this was to protect his son but he had a funny way of showing it. you could hear him berating dean through the door, talking about how he was irresponsible and stupid for being distracted on the hunt today. reality is he wasn’t distracted. he just happened to help you up from the floor before “checking himself for wounds” as john shouted at the two of you earlier in the day. maybe if any of his arguments actually made sense you might have a sliver of respect left for him.

you opened the door quickly, causing the two men to stop talking immediately. dean was sat on the bed, and john was towering over him. he had the ability to make dean feel small and you hated that. every little thing dean did was to impress his father and none of it was good enough.

you waved the bag of treats you had gotten from the store up in the air, bypassing john entirely and taking a seat on the bed next to dean.

“i got us some beers and some snacks.” you looked up just in time to see john walking out the motel room door. you weren’t sure where he was going and frankly you didn’t care.

“that’s my girl.” dean tried his best to mask any kind of expression on his face that showed just how he was feeling about the interaction with his dad, but you could see right through it. he was hurt, angry, mainly just sad. you knew that letting him know you knew how he felt would actually make him feel worse, so you chose, as you always do, just to be there for him. try and take his mind off things.

you crossed your legs on the bed, facing him and cracking open the beers with the bottle opener dean had gifted to you. you clinked glasses, and took a couple of swigs.

“so, what’s next? any new cases lined up?”

“yeah, my dad found something weird in the paper this mornin’… looks just like spirit behaviour, so it should be an easy one.”

“hm, okay. can we reprise our characters when we’re doing research?” you smiled when you caught dean’s cheeks flush. for this last case, you two had been pretending to be a husband and wife reporter duo, writing a story for the local gazette.

“sure thing, mrs brooks.”

“i think we should create a jingle for mr and mrs brooks: amateur reporters.”

“definitely not.”

“what are you gonna do, stop me?”

“yes. mr brooks is quite comfortable locked away up here.” he points to his head, taking another swig of his beer.

“dean.” you nudge his arm right when he was taking a drink, causing it to spill.

“y/n, come on!” he couldn’t help but smile as you mouthed an apology, before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up, closing the door behind him.

as soon as the bathroom door closed, the motel door opened and in came john. your smile dropped as soon as you saw him, eyes casting down to the bed.

“can we talk, john? outside.”

“and why would we do that?”

“just come outside.” john let out a heavy sigh and followed you outside, slamming the motel door behind him.

“so, what is it?” john crossed his arms across his chest, looking inconvenienced to even be there.

“i heard what you said to dean earlier. you know, you can talk to him without yelling. you can protect him without telling him everything he does is wrong.”

“and what does it have to do with you?”

“clearly something since you were mentioning my name an awful lot!”

“i don’t think you’re good for him is all. actually i think after this hunt, you should just leave us alone, okay?”

“you can let your emotions get in the way all you want but i’m a valuable asset and you know it. how many times have i had to save your ass?”

“dean cannot concentrate with you around.”

“oh, all of a sudden you care about dean? how about telling him that once in a while?” your blood was boiling, your voice raising. the entire motel could probably hear. dean had heard the commotion outside and was listening from inside the room.

“i care about dean.”

“enough to tell him everything is his fault? enough to rob him of his childhood?”

“what right do you have to tell me how to parent my goddamn children?”

“apart from the fact that they never got to be children, what the hell have you done for them as a parent? sam doesn’t want anything to do with you and dean spends every waking moment trying to please you! you are not a parent. i get that you were trying to protect them, but this wasn’t the way. you didn’t have to do what you did. you chose to do that. dean was just a kid!”

silence. he didn’t have anything else to say.

“tell dean i went to the bar or something.” you turned on your heel and walked away, up the street away from the motel and towards the nearest town.

john took a few minutes outside, half for some fresh air, half because he knew dean would ask where you were the second he got inside, and he wanted you out of sight before then. he stepped through the door, and dean was sitting on the bed, looking up expectantly for you to walk in after john. “where’s y/n?”

“nearest bar.” dean was up and out of there before the last syllable left john’s mouth.

he had tried your phone more times than he could count, and each ring caused the pit in his stomach to grow deeper.

he hated not having you in his sight for even a second. after a while his walking turned into running, calling your name into the darkness. in his hurry to leave he hadn’t even grabbed the keys to the impala and it was too late for him to turn around now.

despite not being good with directions, somehow you had found the nearest bar, but what you hadn’t realised was what time it was. it was early hours of the morning and the bar was just about closed, unfortunately leaving some.. unsavoury types lingering outside. sometimes you forgot, even if you got rid of a paranormal threat, sometimes the human beings were worse.

you pulled out your phone to call dean, but it was dead. “shit…”

you wandered through the empty streets of town, constantly looking over your shoulder. you could see a payphone up ahead, and you knew dean’s number by heart.

you quickened your pace to the payphone, punching in dean’s number as quickly as you could once you reached it. the line was busy. you hoped he wasn’t trying to call you too. you waited a while and put another quarter in, punching in dean’s number again. this time it rung.

“y/n?”

“how’d you know?”

“where the hell are you? are you safe? i’ve been losing my mind over here trying to look for you, i-“ he paused, not wanting to make you feel like he was mad at you. “just tell me where you are.”

“i’m in town… i don’t even remember how i got here but i don’t know my way back to the motel from here.”

“is there anything around you?”

“yeah, there’s a hardware store. it’s called dave’s hardware.”

“alright, just.. hang on, okay? stay there. i’ll find you.”

the phone beeped to alert the call was about to drop.

“alright. dean i-“ the call dropped. “-m sorry.” you put the phone back and stepped out of the phone box, sitting down on the curb. you thought back to the argument with john, and there’s no way dean didn’t hear you. you were just so angry, you had seen dean upset one too many times. all your frustration came out in one. you thought dean might be mad. he had a complicated relationship with his dad, but maybe he would still be mad that you yelled at him. sitting with your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the sound of dean’s footsteps.

“hey…” he touched your shoulder, causing you to jump before you realised it was him. you stood up, and he immediately wrapped you up in a tight embrace. truthfully, physical contact like this, so intimate, it was a first for the two of you. sure you made eyes at each other and there was the subconscious flirting and deep conversations but you hadn’t made it past this barrier yet. not until now. he squeezed you like he hadn’t seen you in months, and you did the same for him. “please don’t do that again. you scared the hell out of me. i thought somethin’ happened to you…”

“i’m sorry i yelled at your dad. i was just so angry, you know?” a hint of sadness was clear on his face as he realised just how many of the arguments between him and his dad you had heard. he always suspected you knew, your eyes couldn’t hide your sadness when you looked at him for hours after.

“don’t apologise for that.” you pulled away from him slightly, his arms were still around you but you wanted to see his face. he tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your face as he moved down to cup your chin. your eyes were glued to one anothers, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. it was sweet, and full of an emotion you couldn’t yet place.

when you finally separated, dean kept his eyes closed another few moments. like he was having a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“y/n… lord knows i’m not good at all this… but i really do care about you. i wasn’t sure at first, but.. today really sealed the deal for me, y’know? got a taste of how it might feel if i lost you, and… i never want to feel that again… i don’t even know what this feeling is.”

he hadn’t been in love before, and neither had you. but what else could this be?

“my hero. rescuing me from dave’s hardware.”

“shut up.” dean poked light-heartedly, letting out a short laugh.

“i feel the same, dean.” his eyes lit up.

“you don’t have to say that just so i look less like a loser professing my love outside da-“ he stopped talking the second he realised he said it. the l word. “let’s go.” he grabbed your hand, pulling you along and hoping you would forget.

“i love you, too. and i’m not just saying that.” he squeezed your hand, pulling you in close again.

“you do?”

“yes, obviously. you couldn’t tell?” sometimes he thought he could. then he would talk himself out of it. he didn’t think he could get, let alone deserve, anybody who came even close to you. you started walking while talking, and you held his hand tight. “wait a sec, did you walk here?”

“more like ran, but yeah.”

“why wouldn’t you take the impala?”

“i forgot the keys, and then.. i don’t know, i thought if i turned back after i realised, you would be long gone, i wouldn’t see where you went, and i would never find you.”

“dramatic.”

“yeah, well i couldn’t take the risk. not with you. never with you.” you walked back to the motel in a comfortable silence, your hand not leaving his for even a second. john was still up when you got back to the motel. you acknowledged each other when you walked through the door, and dean let go of your hand only to go and take a shower.

you sat on the edge of the bed, taking off your shoes. you shifted awkwardly when john sat down in front of you on the chair in front of the motel desk.

“y/n, about today. you were right. and don’t think i don’t think about that every waking moment.” you kept your eyes glued down, not wanting or caring to make eye contact. “i know you care about dean. you can keep on hunting with us, you’re valuable, but the second i see him acting out of line for you.. i can’t ignore that.” he stood up from the chair, making his way towards the door and leaving again.

once dean was out of the shower and you had had one yourself, you crawled into dean’s bed with him. it was the middle of the night and the only thing playing was re-runs of dallas, but. you didn’t care. dean slipped his arm around you, and your head lay to rest on his chest. he gestured to the tv when jr was on the screen, wearing a white cowboy hat. “think i would look good in one of those?” dean questioned, positioning himself to look down at you.

“most definitely.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Mistakes Were Made

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: seeing bucky naked and he seeing you naked and it's awkward

Summary: Bucky has a date for the first time since breaking up with Sharon, and you try not to ruin it more than you already have. Something awkward happens, and now you have to try and fix that, or else Bucky may never speak to you again.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: intimacy without sex (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Word travels fast when you’re living in an apartment with three men. Bucky met someone at the bar he works at and is now going on a date with her. It’s his first date since being with Sharon, so you can imagine how nervous he is even if he doesn’t show it. Sharon knew all of the bad things Bucky has done in his life and used it against him, at least, that’s what he’s told you. You’ve never met her and you hope you never do. Bucky is a great man and you can’t believe she ever let someone like him go.

You walk into the kitchen and see all three men already in there.

“Do you know where you’re taking her?” Steve asks.

“No.”

“I can give you some of my favorite date spots,” you say.

“It’s not a date and no offense, but I don’t need your advice,” Bucky sighs.

“Awh, come on. I want to talk to you guys about this kind of stuff. What’s her name?”

“Christina,” Sam smirks.

“Sam,” Bucky sighs.

“Christina, huh? That’s a nice name,” you smile. “I think I’ve seen her around the bar. She’s hot.”

“Yeah, I know she is.”

“Have you been out with anyone since Sharon?” His silence is your answer. “Wow, big shoes to fill. That’s scary. You never know what she’s thinking or if she even likes the way you dress.”

“This is why I don’t talk to you, Y/N,” Bucky sighs.

“Bucky, you’re going to be fine,” Steve chuckles. “Just don’t talk about Sharon.”

“Or your trauma,” Sam chirps.

“Or the fact that your metal arm can squeeze the life out of her,” you chuckle. Bucky rolls his eyes and leaves the kitchen to his bedroom. You giggle under your breath and pour yourself a cup of coffee. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah. Dates aren’t really his thing. He’s too much in his own head to focus on anything else.”

“Sharon must have hurt him pretty badly, huh?” Sam and Steve don’t answer. “I should apologize.”

“No, just leave him alone.”

You ignore Steve and walk to Bucky’s room which has music coming out of it. Instead of knocking, which you should be doing, you open his door and walk in. You freeze when you see Bucky completely naked, giving you an unobstructed view of everything. You thought he was well-endowed but this just proves it. His date is one lucky woman.

“What… What are you…?”

You shriek-giggle and smile widely. You quickly turn and leave his room, catching Sam and Steve in the living room.

“Can I talk to you guys for a second? Something happened. It was an accident and I just want to come clean about it.” Both men wait for you to continue speaking. “I, um… I accidentally saw Bucky’s… pee-pee.”

“What did she just say?” Sam asks Steve in a low tone.

“It was an accident but it’s not a big deal.” Bucky’s bedroom door opens and he walks out wearing jeans and a hoodie. “Hey, Bucky.” He walks to the front door and you intercept him so he can’t leave. He refuses to look at you in the eyes. “So, that was weird, huh?”

“I’m trying to leave, Y/N.”

“I think we should talk about it.”

“You’re blocking the door.”

You sigh and step to the side, allowing Bucky to leave the apartment. As soon as he’s gone, you groan and flop onto the couch.

“God, that was horrible! What am I going to do?”

“Look, we all heard your giggle. That was probably the worst thing you could have done,” Sam says. “You don’t laugh at a naked man.”

“Yeah. Just give him time. Trust me, it’s not the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to him. He’ll get over it.”

“I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. Leave it alone, Y/N.”

“Please, Steve, I need your help,” you beg with wide eyes.

“Y/N, you’re going to act like this never happened, okay?”

“We live together. We’re a family. Families talk about things.”

“No, families ignore things until they go away,” Sam says. “Just leave him alone.”

You can’t get Bucky out of your head for the entire night. He doesn’t come home which means he either spent the night with his date or he got a hotel room alone. In the morning, you’re in the kitchen eating breakfast when Bucky comes home wearing the same outfit. You can’t ignore what happened. You grew up in a family where you shared everything.

“Hi, Bucky.” He looks at you but doesn’t say anything. “So, your date went well, huh? You didn’t come home last night.” Again, he doesn’t say anything. He just pours himself some coffee. “I have something that made me think of you.” You reach into your purse and pull out a stick with feathers and jewels glued to it. “It’s a Feelings Stick. Whoever is holding the Feeling Stick has permission to say whatever he or she is feeling without being judged. It’s popular among my students. Care to go first?”

Bucky reaches over and takes the stick from your hands. With his metal hand, he snaps the stick in half.

“Believe it or not, that’s not the first time someone has broken my Feelings Stick.” You reach into your purse and pull out a smaller version of the stick. “I have a travel size.”

“I’m out of here.”

He turns and walks to his bedroom but you chase after him.

“Bucky, wait, please! We have to talk about this!” He leaves the apartment instead and heads to the elevator. “I’m sorry I saw your… pee-pee.” He steps into the elevator and you follow him. “I also didn’t mean to laugh.”

“Why did you? Is there something funny about it?”

“No. No, it’s beautiful. Big. A real treat. Your date is a lucky woman.” Bucky tries to get off the elevator but you grab his arm and pull him back in. You press the emergency stop button so you’re stuck here. “Please, Bucky, talk to me.”

“Y/N, there’s nothing to talk about. You ruined my date. When I tried to take my clothes off, all I heard was your crazy little,” he imitates your giggle, “giggle-scream. All I wanted was to have meaningless sex with a beautiful woman and now I can’t even do that.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He presses the emergency stop button to get the elevator working again so it stops on your floor. He walks out but this time, you don’t follow him. You need to fix this but you don’t know how. Instead of going back to the apartment, you leave the building entirely. The only person who might be able to help you is Natasha. She’s at work so you drive over to her office building where she’s sitting in her office.

“Hey, you have a second?” you ask and knock on the door.

“Hey, Y/N. Come in.” You do and close the glass door behind you. She closes out whatever she is working on and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I messed up with Bucky.” You explain to her what just happened. “What am I going to do, Nat?”

“Do you like him?”

“What?” You perk up and refuse to meet her eye. “No.”

“You totally do!”

“Natasha…”

“Was he big?”

“Bigger than I’ve ever seen, but that’s beside the point. I don’t want him to hate me. He won’t talk to me.”

“Okay,” Natasha sighs and leans back. “There is only one solution to this. You’ve seen his, so show him yours.”

It might not be the best solution to this but it might work. You leave her office and head back home only to see Bucky isn’t there. According to Steve, he’ll be back soon which gives you a perfect opportunity to put your plan into motion. You stand in front of your mirror completely naked, looking over your body in thought. This might work. You grab a towel and sneak into Bucky’s room without the other guys seeing you.

The last time you surprised a guy when you were naked, he ended up cheating on you, but Bucky is different than Jack. You don’t wait long before you hear Bucky come home.

He’s not alone.

A woman giggles, probably Christina. He’s come back with his date, and he’s heading right to his room. If he sees you in here, he’ll never talk to you again. You can’t ruin his date for a second time. You drop to the other side of his bed and hide just as his bedroom door opens. He and Christina come in with their lips on each other, and you wince at the situation.

“God, you’re such a good kisser,” Christina moans.

She falls onto the bed with Bucky on top of her, and you peek your head up to see what’s going on. Neither of them has noticed you, so you need to leave while they’re distracted. You crawl awkwardly while keeping your towel secure on your body. She moans again when he kisses her neck, and you look at the door. If you were to run, you might make it.

So, you do, but you end up knocking something off his desk. Both he and Christina scream when they see you, and you jump back in shock.

“What are you doing, Y/N?!”

You rush to his door but you end up slipping on his shirt. Your towel drops, exposing everything to both him and Christina. You turn out of instinct and Bucky can’t help but look at your body.

“Welcome to our home,” you say to Christina.

You quickly flee from his room and race to your room before Steve and Sam can see you. Bucky’s date is ruined regardless, and she leaves in anger at what just happened. You quickly get dressed and peek your head out of the door just in time to see her leave.

“Loft meeting. Now!” Bucky shouts. You leave your bedroom and join Steve and Sam on the couch. Bucky doesn’t wait before exploding. “We have a thing called doors and what do you do with them? You knock on them before opening them!”

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“Just knock! Don’t sneak into my room!” You reach into your purse and pull out the travel-size Feelings Stick. “Put that shit away.”

“I feel that Nick isn’t honoring the Feeling Stick,” you say.

Sam grabs the stick and looks at Bucky. “I feel me, too.”

“What are you doing?”

Steve takes the stick next.

“I feel that I also have to support Sam and Y/N.”

“What are you two doing?” Bucky practically shouts.

Sam takes the stick back. “I feel like Bucky is yelling.”

They’re doing it to piss him off at this point, and it’s working. Bucky rolls his eyes and storms to his room before slamming the door. It’s not a laughing moment but you three snicker at what you did to Bucky. Bucky clearly needs some space, so you give him the rest of the day to be alone.

By the time six rolls around, you figure it’s time to try talking to him again. You walk to his bedroom and knock on the door.

“Come in.” You open the door and knock again. “You don’t have to knock once you’re in the room.”

“I’m really sorry Bucky. For everything.”

“I know.”

“Did Christina call you back?”

“No, I don’t think she will.”

“It’s her loss, honestly. You’re a great guy, Bucky.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he whispers.

“So, earlier, did you see, like, everything?”

“Yup.”

“Even my… gumbo pot?”

“Get out of my room.”

You giggle and leave the room knowing you and Bucky are going to be okay. Once the door is closed, Bucky smiles.

x

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[capseycartwright]

kisses that travel from your lover's nose to their lips pretty please!

Eddie’s a little stupid with it, he knows. The flush in his cheeks doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere fast, and Buck joining him in the bathroom wasn’t exactly going to ease the pink blush any time soon. He’s a little stupid about it, drunk off endorphins and the  memory of Buck’s hands on his body, and still, Eddie can’t help but feel embarrassment snaking up his spine, Buck recognising the feeling before it could turn to shame clawing at Eddie’s throat.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Buck murmured, hands gentle as they came to rest on Eddie’s shoulders. Buck was beautiful. Eddie had always known he was beautiful, really, but it felt all the more evident now, Buck’s hair messy, and free of product, his own cheeks flushed pink and his eyes soft, the expression on his face more open than it had been in a while, no secrets left between them now. Buck was more beautiful than ever, there and then, and it was because Eddie could look all he wanted now, he knew – he didn’t have to tear his gaze away, keep up the pretence that he wasn’t madly, deeply in love with his very best friend. He could drink his fill and not worry about being caught doing something he shouldn’t be.

One, two, three.

Eddie took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect,” Buck reassured. “But I’d like if you tried,” he admitted, Buck always better than Eddie at voicing his concerns. “We’ve just had sex, for the first time, and now you’re in the bathroom and you seem to be freaking out, a little, so I’m – well, I’m a bit worried, Eddie.”

“You don’t need to be worried,” Eddie shook his head, leaning back against Buck. He couldn’t help but look at the picture they painted, the two of them standing in front of the mirror, Buck’s chest broad and glorious, the smattering of random tattoos inked onto his skin patterns Eddie wanted to map every inch of. They looked like a couple – they were a couple, Eddie knew, but they looked so comfortable with each other, even now, roughly seventeen hours into their relationship, that it kind of stunned Eddie.

Buck’s palm was broad, as he flattened it against the expanse of Eddie’s stomach. It made Eddie feel small, and safe, and he sort of wanted to cry.

“I just – I didn’t know it could be like this,” Eddie admitted, thumb stroking Buck’s wrist. He wanted to touch every single inch of Buck all at once, physics bedamned.

“Sex?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he let out a shuddering breath. “It feels like I just figured out everything I’ve been missing my whole life,” he paused, for a second. Sex had been a weird one, for Eddie. Sex had been nice, and strange, and awkward, in the beginning, and then it had been the only way that he and Shannon could communicate, and he’d ran from it, with Ana, and with Marisol it had felt like a performance: a box he needed to move their relationship to the next phase.

Sex with Buck had been exciting, and it had felt electrifying – and it had been fun, in a way Eddie hadn’t expected. Buck had tripped over his own feet in his rush to remove his socks, and it had sent Eddie into a fit of giggles that had only been silenced with a kiss Eddie had felt right in the tips of his toes, and then Buck had gotten his hands on Eddie’s dick and every thought Eddie had ever had, or could have, had gone right out of his head, the whole world narrowed down to Buck’s hands on his body. It had been a revelation, the way Buck’s body had moved against his own, gentle, and firm, strong as Buck had moved Eddie right to where he’d wanted him, over and over, wringing an orgasm out of Eddie that had him ascending to a higher plane.

“It wasn’t just the sex, though,” Eddie continued. Buck had been quiet, so in-tune with Eddie that he had realised Eddie hadn’t quite finished. After, when they’d done the awkward clean up, Buck had tucked Eddie under his chin, voice low as they’d talked, gentle hands scratching through the overly long strands of Eddie’s hair. It had been calm, and quiet, and Eddie had luxuriated in the feeling of being held.

Eddie twisted, in Buck’s arms. “It was the after,” he hummed, drinking in Buck’s face at such a short distance. It was different, looking at Buck like this, rather than in the mirror. Like this, he could admire the way Buck’s birthmark stood pink against his skin, the slight furrow of his brow and the way his breath hitched, as Eddie pressed his thumb into the divot of Buck’s shoulder, a place he’d come to think of as his, after all these years.

“The after?” Buck looked a little confused.

“I just – I didn’t expect the intimacy of the after, because I didn’t really have that before. Sex was – sex was different, before, for me, and I found it hard to want to just – stay in it, like we did,” Eddie explained, hands on Buck’s waist. “But I want to stay in it, with you. It was – it was nice. I felt nice. You made me feel good, Buck, not just during the sex – which was like, objectively great – but in the after.”

“I’ve always liked the after the best,” Buck admitted, sounding a little shy. “You see so much – so much vulnerability, from your partner, in sex, but you get just as much of that after, too. When sex was – when sex was transactional, for me, a way to try and fill this void of intimacy, I didn’t appreciate how good the after was – I didn’t understand that’s where there’s so much intimacy too.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “I love you,” he hummed, the smile turning to a big, bright grin as Buck began to trail kisses down the bridge of Eddie’s noise, a giggle escaping his throat as Buck kissed the tip of his nose, moving his focus to Eddie’s cheeks, chin, and lips, finally, the kiss chaste compared to the ones they’d spent the last hour or so exchanging, but still one that Eddie could feel right to his toes.

“Is it always this easy?” Eddie asked, and he didn’t need to finish his sentence for Buck to know what to ask: was it always this easy, sex and intimacy?

“No,” Buck shook his head, pressing another kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Only with you.”

send me a kissing prompt

[chigiriizz]

BOYFRIEND! YOICHI ISAGI HEADCANONS

At first, he’s super shy and awkward about being someone’s boyfriend. He’s used to analyzing plays, not romance.

"D-Do you like... want to hold hands? Or... is that too fast?"

He overthinks everything — not because he’s unsure of you, but because he wants to get it right.

"Okay, if we meet at 5:00 and the train takes 18 minutes and it’s a 4-minute walk to the café, that gives us a 2-minute buffer. Perfect."

You get texts like:

“Good luck on your test today!! I believe in you”

“You didn’t eat yet, right? I left a sandwich in your bag.”

“Can’t stop thinking about your smile today. It kinda powered me through practice.”

He’s your #1 hype man. If you’re feeling down? He drops everything to support you — even if it’s over something small.

“You got through today. That’s more than enough. I’m proud of you.”

Protective in a quiet way. Not possessive, but aware. He’ll step a little closer when someone’s being weird, glance at you with silent concern, and walk you home even if it’s raining and he’s exhausted.

He likes hugging you from behind while resting his chin on your shoulder, especially when he's tired after practice.

Kisses with Isagi are soft and gentle. He always pauses first — like he’s memorizing your face — then kisses you like it’s the first time, every time.

When you wear his hoodie or jersey, he literally freezes. His brain just blue screens.

"...You're...really cute. Like, unfairly cute. I need a moment."

Cuddles? He’s a golden retriever. Clingy in the softest way. He loops an arm around you and buries his face in your neck like it’s the most natural thing.

He absolutely adores when you cheer for him at games. He scans the crowd to find you, and once he does? Tunnel vision. All he can think is:

"I want to score for them."

Training dates. He’ll try to show you how to shoot goals — then laugh when you kick the ball into a bush.

“That was... impressive in a different way.”

When he wins, he does the heart hands at you from across the field (blushing the whole time).

If he ever loses or has a bad day? He’ll call you and just quietly ask, “…Can I come over?” He doesn’t even need to talk — he just needs you.

Movie nights mean leaning into your side, popcorn on your lap, and him gasping at the plot twists.

“Wait — HE was the villain??”

He’s a sucker for compliments. If you call him “cool” or “handsome,” he turns bright red and tries to brush it off… but you know he replays it in his head all day.

Anniversaries? He plans thoughtful little surprises — like printing out a photo of your first date and writing “Thanks for changing my life” on the back.

If you’re sick, he shows up with medicine, soup, and a full PowerPoint of how he’ll take care of you.

He saves every note, photo, and drawing you give him — even silly ones. They’re all in a box under his bed, labeled with your name.

One time, you wore his team hoodie to school and someone commented on it. He just looked smug and said:

“Yeah. They’re mine.”

When he’s traveling for matches, he texts nonstop. You get airport photos, sleepy hotel selfies, and messages like:

“I wish you were here. The bed’s cold without you.”

He believes in you more than you believe in yourself sometimes.

“Even if you don’t feel strong right now… you are. I’ve seen it.”

You’re the one person he lets his guard down around — no strategies, no ego, just Yoichi.

At the end of the day, you’re his dream. Blue Lock or not, he knows the greatest goal he’s scored… is you.

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2(here) | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |...

Masterlist

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____________________________________

Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, Paimon, Traveler

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3. Also, I may say that the characters other than the reader may be a bit OOC cause it's been a long time since I played genshin and I'm just finishing all of my works with my knowledge left from playing the game. So sorry about it 🙏🙏.

____________________________________

You stood, motionless, your eyes fixed in disbelief upon the distant scene before you. As the wind cut through the air, a shiver ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The purity of the air surrounded you, carrying with it an intoxicating scent that smelled pure. The warm touch of the sun's rays caressing your skin affirmed that this experience couldn't possibly be a figment of your imagination. A fleeting thought of doubt crept in, but you quickly dismissed it; after all, you had never dabbled in any kind of drugs. This moment, as unbelievable as it seems, had to be undeniably real.

With careful fingers, you gently retrieved your fallen shoe/heel/slipper from the bed of plush, emerald-green grass. As you slipped it back onto your foot, your eyes instinctively wandered upward, transfixed by the expansive stretch of blue sky above you. It was quite unlike the very bright pixelated one you see on your screen. Everything that you see within the door was real and not a nightmare.

____________________________________

After composing yourself, you went inside your cafe, close the door, drag a chair nearest to the door, took a seat on the chair you placed infront of the door, and contemplated life. A deep heavy sigh got out your mouth as you continue looking the the strange thing infront of you. "What now? What do I do? Should I just lock it?" you asked yourself and looked at the door. Welp, well, there goes your master plan. Suprise suprise there's no keyhole and having a key would not make any difference. "Ugh."

You sat up and opened the door again, only to be baffled to see a different scenery other than the distant City of Mondstadt. The door was now currently in the Liyue Harbor. You closed the door and opened it again, you were now in Inazuma. Close, open, and now in Sumeru. Once again, you are now in Fontaine.

"Yeah bye." you closed the door again and returned the chair from where it once was. Contemplating what you should do next, your feet carried you around the whole café. You went to the counter and decided to make yourself something to help with calming yourself first in order to think clearly. It was a good thing that you had brought all of the materials and ingredients you needed in the café because you had thought of opening the café tomorrow. But with how things are now, you don't know what to do.

Teyvat is filled with many dangerous beings such as hilichurls, slimes, etc. You are but a normal human being with no experience in fighting and fighting your baby cousins was not enough of an experience to be able to fight toe to toe with monsters you have only seen through a screen. Yes, a gun would probably best to use but you don't have a permit for that and you don't want to be in jail when you have just barely open your dream café. But nobody had to know, right? What if-

A deep sigh fell from your lips once again. The stress is really getting in to you, huh? The bitter/sweet aroma of (coffee/tea/juice) filled your sense of smell. You were making your favorite, (your choice of coffee/tea/juice). After some time of finishing your drink, you took it along with a (pastry of your choice) that you had in your car, in which you had thought of eating to celebrate the opening, and sat in a chair facing the door. Taking your time in eating/drinking, many thoughts come and go in your head to solve the predicament you are in now. You had even thought of postponing the opening of the café until you had thought of a way on what to do with the door.

Of course you read the fanfics circulating all around the genshin fandom and one of the those that you have read was SAGAU where you might be the imposter or the creator of teyvat or you become a villain or anything in between. The most common of them was being an imposter. What if you were to become the said imposter if one day a person will open the door to your café? What if they kill you? What if-

*creak......*

Your rambling came to a stop as you looked at the door horrified. Oh no no no no no no NO NO NO! YOU JINXED YOURSELF DIDN'T YOU?! THIS DAMNED FATE-

'Oh dear God, Buddha, Allah, Deities, whoever higher being there is, pls help me...' you thought as you clasp your hands, praying to higher beings. Before you could even feel it, tears cascaded down you face to the table. "I'm nOt ReAdy tO dIE yeT... Ughhhhhhhh" you sobbed into your hands loudly like a child lost in a mall.

"Hello?" a person peaked from behind the door.

Fuck.

____________________________________

The Traveler, along with Paimon, was doing their daily quests until they saw something shining in the far distance. Their curiousity made them want to investigate it.

"Hm. Why is a door in the middle of the forest with no support or whatsoever?" Paimon mumbled as the door came into their view. The Traveler also had the same thought.

"Is it perhaps a magic door of some kind? I think w-"

*creak*

The Traveler stopped speaking as the door opened but from where they are right now, they couldn't see who opened the door and couldn't get to ask since the door closed with a loud bang when they were going to get closer.

"Well... that was something..." Paimon looked at the Traveler. "Traveler? What's wrong? BREATHE! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AT THIS RATE!" Paimon brought tons of fried egg out of the Traveler's bag and smacked it into the Traveler's mouth and forced them to chew the egg.

After confirming the Traveler is back into top condition, Paimon asked them what the hell happened to them.

"I-I don't know. I suddenly felt something when whoever opened that door and the air around me became heavy that it became hard to breathe..." The Traveler shooked their head gently and sighed. "I also felt something strange. The energy of whoever is beyond that door, excluded an aura that is very familiar to me, but I don't know who or what it is."

"Hm. Paimon thinks that we should open that door and see whoever that and see if they truly are familiar to you or maybe perhaps this connection that you feel is related to your sibling!" Paimon twirled around the air, exaggerating her words with her actions.

For once, Traveler thought it was a good idea at first but there is also a flaw in that idea. A flaw that might cause their life if whoever is beyond that door is hostile and will kill them. It is better to be cautious then to be 6ft underground before finding their sibling.

_________________________________________

Taglist:

@udretlnea

[twst-drabbles]

Rollo 2

Summary: Rollo, here to do research for a project you didn't really ask about, asked you to help him with the general care of the wildlife magical plant nymphs that are growing in the park.

(Just wanted an excuse to write some more cute shit about the plant nymphs, and also drag Rollo into this AU somehow because I could not settle for something up until now.)

"And that's all you have to do?" Rollo tilted his head further into his handkerchief, as if that did anything to hide his squinted look of disgust. "Just water them? Is that really all they need?"

"Yeah, this little critters are already all planted into the ground," said little plant nymphs, still in their hard shell phase, flinched at the sudden spray of your hose, before snuggling deeper into the dirt until only the tops of their smooth heads could be seen, "so good luck getting them to any kind of nursery setup. They're stuck here until they shed their baby roots."

It felt a little weird to you, that this person--who was once your tour guide to a college Mozus was recommending you--is now in the middle of doing research for a project you didn't ask the details for, located right in church-turned-hangout-spot just past the park you sometimes go to. You weren't there for more than a week, but you did pick up the feeling that this man, Rollo, did not like the magical creatures, let alone anything magic related.

While you can't say you're too favorable about magic yourself, you had a feeling that Rollo's 'distaste' goes a little beyond that. And that feeling can't help but gnaw at your brain, especially now that he's asking for help watering these baby nymphs like they're parasites to be avoided. He can hide behind that cloth all he wants, you can see that look clear as day.

What's his deal? You don't know, and prying has never been your thing.

"How soon will they be walking around?" At least he wasn't lying about doing research, he does have a pen and paper handy. "And how far will they be traveling? Any sense of what their potential traveling patterns will be like? Or where they're most likely to go?"

You were kinda tempted to spray him with the hose, but you don't want to have to buy him a new notepad, so you'll hold back. Instead, you squatted down and pushed blades of grass out of the way. Still, all you see was little bald head, looking like sugar-free gumdrops some kid threw away. One of them, the tiniest one no bigger than the nail of your pinky, looked up at you with clear dewy eyes, looking sleepy.

"Hmm, well, they're poking their heads out, but I don't see any main flower nearby. I'm guessing they're gonna come out in about a month or so, though that really depends on the kind of seed they came from. They're not gonna move from this spot until everyone in their group has popped up, so they're gonna be here a while. Probably won't venture out past the rest stop." You pushed dirt to the sleepy little face and smiled as it snuggled back down.

A sigh of relief puffed out of Rollo, looking even more skinny and haggard than usual. "So then, not all plant nymphs of the leaf variety come with a main flower to worship? How does that affect their growth period? And why wait for all of them to come out when there could be potential predators nearby?"

Looking up, you spotted some birds circling in the sky.

"Yeah, sometimes a main flower pops into being all on its own, and usually either adopts or grows their own helpers. In that case, said little nymphs take all the time in the world to grow." You remember spotting a plant nymph once that resembled a mandrake. Absolutely refused to leave dirt even though its long since passed it's need to rely on nearby roots to gather nutrients. The flower nymph--a sunflower nymph--was livid. You helped it out and got the scream of your life from that plant nymph. "And plant nymphs are social creatures. The bigger the pack, the better for the main flower in the long run."

Rollo sneered at the thought for a second, but the feeling of your gaze on him had his snapping back to a more, stoic self. He's kinda irritating you a little bit, if you're being perfectly honest. But, he's not causing any harm to the creatures, so what can you do? He is digging at your brain for information after all. Even though it be more useful to gather this data from a database and other articles.

Even though you live in a neighborhood that's nowhere near where his college is. Why did he decide to come here of all places? It's not as if his home has any shortage of magical creatures to research.

"…if I had to guess, I'd say you've been around all of these creatures you're whole life? You certainly have quite the wealth of knowledge." Rollo walked to your side with tentative steps, fingers crinkling the paper while the other stayed forcibly relaxed. He didn't kneel, but he did watch as your hands lightly stroked a bigger plant nymph. It popped up and grabbed your nail just because, showing you the vibrant, glowing roots protruding out of its seed body. You coaxed it back in there.

"Yeah, yeah you're right about that. This place is a magical haven after all, and these pets all love that." Certainly made for a rather fun childhood, you can say that much.

"But…isn't that isolating? Living in a place where nearly all its residents have magic to some capacity? Doesn't it fill you with frustration, and fear?"

…well isn't that something to unpack later? You know a haunted look when you see one. And, perhaps, he's trying to find something in you, something to connect with. Again, you weren't at his college for long, but you have a sense that he was isolated. Well liked, certainly, but held a quiet about him that reminded you of children that wanted nothing more than to curl up in the corner and wait for everything to go away.

Besides, doesn't Rollo have magic?

You raised an eyebrow. "You want me to fear you?"

Rollo flinched and looked ready to shout, but composed himself with a hissing intake. "No, absolutely not. But, hasn't the thought at least entered your mind? These creatures…they could easily harm you, if given the circumstances. You can't exactly defend yourself against magic."

You blinked then looked to the now snoring plant nymphs. "If I'm being honest, not really." Well, you have been on the receiving end of injuries from pets and other magical mishaps, but you never go about your day biting at your fingers that something can and will happen. "Magic is just…magic, that's all there is to it, bending to the will of the user. And I trust the users here, in this neighborhood. Besides, not like you need magic to take care of pets. I'm cautious enough."

[mulletmitsuya]

Tokyo Revengers Groupchat (Final Timeline)

Warnings: suggestive (i might have to change this warning to "mentions of sexual content" bcs it's too tame of a warning for the stuff that's actually in here), swearing, the word "pedophile" is mentioned, mentions of substance abuse

Desc: Everyone finds out Takemitchy and Mikey are time leapers, which leads to some...interesting questions

Mitsuya: so let me get this straight

Mitsuya: you're a time traveler, and you've lived dozens of timelines to prevent Hina from dying but she kept dying anyway but then when you got to one where she didn't die, Mikey was some deranged criminal lord and was miserable and depressed and tried to kill himself so you had to go back in time again to make sure everything was fixed but ended up dying while fighting Mikey but then somehow you both went back in time and rewrote all of our entire lives??

Takemitchy: yeah...

Baji: cap

Mikey: it's not

Mitsuya: so Mikey's a time traveler too?

Mikey: yeah it's crazy i know

Draken: do you guys have any way to prove this?

Chifuyu: this explains why i keep getting random visions of me in alternate universes. holy shit

Haruchiyo: weird ass prank

Takemitchy: i think it happened since you're close to me and we basically did everything together. i'm not sure

Inupi: we're just gonna believe this?

Koko: wait, i kind of do

Kisaki: this...defies all logic of anything ever.

Mikey: shut up Kisaki

Mikey: i'm sorry it's just that in ever other timeline you've ruined my life so it's difficult to be nice to you sometimes

Kisaki: so you don't like me because of something i did in another universe?

Takemitchy: *timeline

Mikey: yeah. my bad

Baji: i'm gonna entertain this cause i'm bored but what was i like in other timelines

Mikey: dead

Baji: ...all of em?

Mikey: yeah, it kinda drove me to insanity

Baji: damn

Baji: why?

Mikey: you killed yourself to save Kazutora

Baji: what was the context

Mikey: long story

Baji: there wasn't any other way?

Mikey: you're kinda pissing me off cause that's what i was wondering, actually

Baji: damn

Kazutora: thanks man. appreciate it🙏

Kazutora: i'll slobber on your meat later, as a proper thank you

Baji: i'd appreciate that. thanks homie🙌

Koko: what about me?

Baji: you wanna slobber on my meat? i mean i won't stop you. as long as i can call you kitten.

Koko: ...i was talking about me in alternate universe's😐

Takemitchy: i don't think we should go there guys. there's too many timelines, and not everything was exactly the same. and also in general it was a really traumatizing experience for me and i kind of want to end my life every time i think about it

Hanma: womp womp. what about me???

Mikey: murderer

Hanma: YESSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭

Hanma: THANK GOD, I KNEW IF I COULDN'T DO IT HERE, MULTIVERSE ME WOULD HAVE LIVED THE DREAM

Hanma: are me and Tetta-san together in every universe

Mikey: surprisingly, yes

Hanma: and he denies we're soulmates😔

Kisaki: i will not hesitate to get another restraining order

Hanma: a piece of paper won't stand in my way. let's get married

Kisaki: i will call the police

Draken: guys are we really entertaining this?

Mikey: you went to jail in one of the timelines and you were bald LMAO

Draken: sure

Baji: why'd he go to jail?

Mikey: these guys killed Emma and Ken-chin took revenge

Baji: respectable

Mikey: he was given a death sentence

Baji: that's tough fr

Ran: i'm kinda curious

Ran: humour me, what was i like?? was i famous?

Mikey: you were a criminal. killed people

Ran: sounds about right if i'm being honest

Ran: and Haruchiyo and Rindou?

Haruchiyo: leave me out of Takemitchy's psychotic episodes

Haruchiyo: i think you have a hallucination/delusion disorder or something

Mikey: but don't you believe me?

Haruchiyo: ...

Haruchiyo: Mikey, you're also pretty mentally ill

Mikey: says you???

Haruchiyo: i just have substance abuse problems and i'm getting clean so...

Mikey: GUYS I'M TELLING THE TRUTH I SWEAR

Mikey: I'VE BEEN GOING CRAZY KEEPING THIS A SECRET

Draken: when was the last time you slept?

Mikey: ☹️

Baji: guys just play pretend.

Rindou: what about me?

Mikey: same as your brother just uh, less gay and slutty?

Rindou: story of my life

Inupi: you didn't do Koko

Mikey: criminal

Koko: the whole time?

Mikey: yeah

Mikey: Inupi got normal at some point because he and Ken-chin got close and they fixed bikes together and had sex

Inupi: Draken????

Draken: you're really starting to piss me off.

Mikey: Akane died in the fire though like she was BURNT

Takemitchy: uh Mikey-kun...

Mikey: she was a crisp i'm telling you

Mikey: Inupi you had an ugly red scar on your face and no one wanted you

Mikey: Izana i know you're reading this, you were fucking insane dude like you killed Emma for some fucking reason then Kisaki shot you 3 times in the chest and you died while having a really bad mental breakdown. it was a major L on your part

Chifuyu: Mikey why are you leaving out the fact that the common denominator in every single timeline was that you killed every single one of your friends in the most brutal ways possible🤨?

Mikey: no comment

Smiley: how'd he kill me?

Chifuyu: uhhh

Chifuyu: Takemitchy help me out here

Takemitchy: i don't want to talk about it😐

Chifuyu: I REMEMBER

Chifuyu: backshot

Smiley: ...

Smiley: he killed me by giving me backshots..?

Smiley: i would NEVER take it from behind

Smiley: especially from MIKEY

Smiley: small dick having ass

Smiley: my bootyhole is not to be messed with

Smiley: i'm so pissed off right now holy shit

Smiley: how did i even die???? dick so good it killed me?

Smiley: i'm so angry

Angry: and i'm Smiley😂

Baji: 3/10 joke 👎, poor delivery, fell flat

Smiley: i hope you kill yourself, Mikey

Mikey: trust me, i've tried

Chifuyu: ???

Chifuyu: he shot you in the back with a gun?

Chifuyu: what's wrong with you

Smiley: oh my bad i though you meant like, he was taking me doggy style

Smiley: i'm no bottom

Ran: what is happening

Chifuyu: i'm moving on😐

Chifuyu: Hakkai was tied to a chair and burnt to death

Hakkai: wha-

Hakkai: WHAT DID I DO??

Hakkai: jesus 😟

Chifuyu: why am i getting all these memories, i'm freaking out

Hakkai: Mikey please tell me what i did to deserve that ☹️

Mikey: idk Hakkai i was going through a lot

Draken: have you been diagnosed with anything?

Mikey: i don't need a diagnosis bcs i'm fine now, you're all alive and i don't have any murderous intent!!! yippee🤗

Mikey: isn't this great Takemitchy??

Takemitchy: well, yeah no ones dead so that's great

Izana: this is obviously completely fabricated

Izana: are you guys that bored?

Senju: man for all that time traveling you sure are a shit boyfriend😭

Takemitchy: how????

Takemitchy: did Hina say that☹️??

Senju: it's an observation

Senju: you've had way too many coincidental close calls with other woman💀

Draken: yeah you pissed me off when you thought i was gifting you a prostitute. you had a whole ass girlfriend. shame on you

Senju: and you also almost slept with Emma and you "don't remember"

Smiley: Mitchy's low-key funny as hell because what do you mean you stripped yourself and another girl down to your underwear by accident

Baji: wouldn't Takemitchy be a pedophile then?? Emma was 13 dawg🤨

Mikey: he was 14 though😭

Baji: you're gonna ride Takemitchy's dick to defend him from trying to sleep with your 13 year old sister??? crazy

Baji: wasn't be mentally 26🤨?

Baji: bro i'm gonna beat your ass actually

Mikey: hmm

Mikey: you know what Mitchy, why did you do that 🤨?

Smiley: LMFAOO

Mitsuya: why did i come back to Takemitchy facing pedophile allegations, like what's going on right now

Kazutora: is it not enough that he changed the space and time continuum just to be with his girl?

Kazutora: cheating this cheating that, my boy deserves all the pussy he wants

Kazutora: he's been beaten, shot, stabbed AND killed

Kazutora: i personally believe he's the goat

Baji: ?

Chifuyu: goat is an acronym for "greatest of all time", Baji-san

Baji: what's an acronym

Chifuyu: i'll dm

Kazutora: bro you're so fucking stupid😭

Draken: i don't care if he was skinned alive by an orangutan, there's no excuse to cheat on someone

Rindou: i think being skinned alive by an orangutang warrants having more than one girl. idk that's just me tho

Ran: not the point that's being made rn

Rindou: what exactly is the point that's being made

Rindou: is this real. are we being serious.

Rindou: i don't think i get the joke

Haruchiyo: i think we should all stop talking now

Mikey: Mitchy we need to talk a bit

Takemitchy: i told you this was a bad idea

[no-144444]

꩜summary: you're not in love... obviously... seriously!

꩜pairing: sebastián montoya x fem! reader

“It’s convenient!” you argued. “It’s not like I’m in love with him, he’s just helping me out.” 

Alex stared back at you, completely and utterly unconvinced. “Sure, and I didn’t cause an 11 car pile up in Monaco,” he nodded. “You clearly have this under control.” 

Irish sarcasm, isn’t it great. You rolled your eyes. “Alex, come on, he’s just-”

“The love of your life,” he finished for you, and you swore you would have rung his neck out. 

“I’m not in love-!”

“Oh! So the sky’s never been blue?! I’m shocked,” he deadpanned. “He’s in love with you-”

“Who’s he?” Sebastian rested an arm around your waist, smiling as he looked between the two of you. “Is it Verstappen wannabe here?” he asked, pointing at Alex, who chuckled mockingly. The nickname had spread like a wildfire throughout the F2 paddock, and it was kind of funny. The 11 car pile up was no joke and it was great that they all walked away with no injuries. 

“At least I’m not being shown up by my teammate,” he bit back as you just watched between the two of them. “Bye Y/n, see you on track Sebastian.”  

“What did he want?” he questioned, turning his attention to you, dropping his hand from your waist. He was all too aware of how strong he came on there, and how silent you got. He hoped he hadn’t ruined anything. He really hoped the ‘he’ Alex was talking about was him, because it meant you were talking about him, which settled a small colony of butterflies in his stomach.

“Just a chat,” you shrugged, turning to him. “How are you?” 

“Better now that you’re back in the paddock,” he smirked. “Where were you?”

“Busy,” you teased, walking on, ahead of him. He raised a curious eyebrow and followed. “Had some family stuff. Hope it wasn’t too terrible without me.” 

“Well I survived, but just barely,” he teased. “Best if you don’t go away again.” 

You just laughed. What the fuck does one say to that? How does one respond to blatant flirting? How does one keep their cool? “I’ll try to stay in the paddock,” you smirked. “No promises.”

He could’ve sworn he’d died and gone to heaven when you looked at him like that. 

Travelling with Sebastian was good in some ways, and shit in others. You got free flights because of his sponsors (or something like that), simple boarding and disembarking experiences, luxury lounges, etc. It was shit, because well… Sebastian was there. That was the shit part, not really. It was this weird tension you two had going on between you. This will-they-won’t-they bullshit, and there seemed to be no end in sight. Yeah, you guys kissed sometimes, and you hooked up. He was sweet. He was nice. You had no idea if he was your boyfriend, or even actually interested in you.

“Is this the girlfriend?” his dad teased as you walked up behind Sebastian, who went bright red. This could not be happening right now. He stared at the two of you with an expecting smile, and your jaw just dropped, unsure of what to say. What does one say to that? Had Sebastian told his dad you were his girlfriend to let you on the flight? Would he be mad to know Sebastian was just letting anyone on? Were you about to have to find another way to Barcelona?

“Dad,” he groaned, covering his face. You continued to stand there, shocked. He nudged his son and laughed. 

“Come on son, it’s a joke! We both know you’re too pretty for him,” he winked at you and smiled, and you pretended that you weren’t actively losing your shit.  You let out a small laugh, trying to regulate your nervous system as the adrenaline in your blood slowly dissipated. “Let’s go, shall we?” 

He set out in front of you as Seb stood back, waiting for you. He nudged into you as you walked from security, an apologetic smile on his face. “I’m so sorry, he makes super ill-timed jokes sometimes,” he admitted, embarrassment clear in his features. “You alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded, letting out a nervous laugh. “Just… caught me off guard.” 

He stared at you for a second. “Why would that catch you off guard?” 

“Because I'm not your girlfriend?” you chuckled. “Are you sure you weren’t hurt during the race? I know you didn’t crash but-”

“What?!” he squeaked. People stared. He cleared his throat. “But all the…” he trailed off, knowing his dad was within ear shot. “So that didn’t mean anything or…?”

“Oh no!” you took his hand. His face dropped. “I mean yes! Yes, it meant something!” you corrected yourself. “It meant something to me, I just didn’t know if it meant anything to you.”

“Of course it meant something to me,” he said, like it was obvious. “You mean something to me.”

You softened. “You mean something to me too,” you admitted. “So… we’re dating?” 

“I thought we had been this whole time,” he scratched the back of his head. 

So maybe you were in love. And maybe Alex was right.

navigation for my blog :)

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape