#I COULD ADD MORE BUT IM VERY TIRED

[br1ghtestlight]

Hi hello, I just wanted to say how much I adore your account because all of your Bob's Burgers opinions are completely correct. Yes. You are wonderful. ALSO, YOU ARE THE AMAZING PERSON WHO WROTE THE GENDERFLUID GENE FANFICTION YES. IT IS SO ADORABLE AND MADE ME SQUEAL, DEFINITELY ONE OF MY FAVORITES.

Thank you for bringing the Autistic Bob headcanon to my attention 👏🏼

Do you perhaps have any headcanons about Autistic Bob, because it makes me absolutely feral 👀

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! :D this actually means a lot bcuz i always feel like im annoying people by posting so much on this account and spamming the tag im just very passionate about. burgers (and thank u for reading my genderfluid gene fanfiction i poured my entire heart and soul into it haha)

OKAY AUTISTIC BOB HEADCANONS

he is so bad at talking to ppl its very stressful because he doesn't understand social cues and people always assume he hates them?? bcuz he isnt very expressive and his words get misinterpreted so people he's talked to like once think that he hates them and he's an asshole so they treat him like garbage, but in reality he's a very loving and passionate and kind person he just doesnt express that very well :(

he wasn't very good at making friends when he was in school (and still isnt) like obviously socializing was hard bcuz of the restaurant and his mom but even outside of that he just Didn't understand other kids and they knew something was weird/different about him and treated him badly even if he didnt understand why, he was very trusting as a kid and fell for people's jokes and tricks a lot of the time bcuz he didnt question them which lead to him being pretty cynical as an adult

bob being autistic is 100% a genetic thing he inherented from big bob but neither of them would ever admit this and they both just think its a personality quirk, it is not

his special interest is cooking and he absolutely LOVES talking abt different recipes and ingredients he uses, he's usually good at controlling himself but if you get him talking about cooking he will not ever stop (linda actually loves this and actively encourages it by asking him questions especially when they first started dating bcuz she thought he was cute and otherwise he didnt talk about himself very much)

bob gets stressed out very easily and likes having control of things in his kitchen especially when he first started his restaurant bcuz he had a specific routine for everything, then he had kids and linda running around everywhere and he got a lot better at dealing with last-minute changes and stress LOL he still prefers cooking by himself though and his control freak tendencies tend to come out around the holidays (he definitely tries not to be Like That because he doesnt want to turn out like his father)

sometimes when the restaurant is busy bob will get overwhelmed and linda will tell him to take a break and go to the employee bathroom to calm down while she handles everything, he's very lucky that he married someone who thrives off chaos and craziness bcuz he would not survive without her

bob is the only person in their family who actually reads books its not very often, but he enjoys reading books about the cooking process and memiors written by professional chefs :) linda thinks that its extremely nerdy but she loves him and she thinks its cute when he reads before bed she calls him her little professor

bob doesn't stim very often bcuz he's good at masking (kinda) and he isnt very expressive in general but if he's really excited about something he'll start bouncing on his feet when he talks until he notices what he's doing and then he's embarrassed, he also mostly does vocal stims when he's anxious/upset lots of groaning just like tina and he repeats things somethings (especially recipes that he has memorized)

when bob has meltdowns (not very often) they usually come out as anger and he starts screaming at everybody and just being annoyed by everything and he's kinda awful to be around until he calms down, everyone in his family knows that he didnt mean it and that he was just stressed out and they're more worried about him than anything bcuz he doesn't typically lash out like that

bob learned the napkin trick he used with gene in the laser show episode when he was a kid bcuz he used to get stressed out while working at his dad's restaurant and the loud noise did not help, his dad wasnt totally understanding but he would let bob take a break if he needed it especially during busy days he would typically work in the kitchen

this is just canon but bob is awful with talking to customers which is why linda and the kids are usually the servers LOL he has absolutely no social skills and he feels like he always says the wrong thing and misses social cues and he comes off as cold and antisocial, if a customer comes back often enough like teddy he'll be more open to talking to them bcuz he knows them but otherwise he usually stays in the back of the restaurant and cooks (this is also why tina wasn't allowed to serve the customers when she was younger but after she asked her dad about it he said that she was allowed as long as she didn't try too hard to make conversation with them)

bob sees a lot of his younger self in tina which is something he absolutely refuses to look deeper into but she's a lot more social and confident than he ever was and she has way more friends than he did at her age (this is almost certainly something she got from her mom)

bob is usually okay around linda and the kids bcuz they're his family and he's used to them and doesnt feel as stressed out or anxious when he's around them, but sometimes he just cant deal with anyone and the kids annoy him with constant questions and loud noises so linda takes the kids out for the day and bob gets to relax at home and watch old western movies idk (this was a lot more common when the kids were younger bcuz now he can just ask them to leave him alone and they'll go to their rooms or whatever) but he's always happy when his family comes home <3

linda will occasionally drag bob out to social events or parties (especially when they were younger amd had more energy/no kids) but she also knows his limits and will come up with the perfect excuse to leave right as he's getting overwhelmed, he doesnt mind going to parties with her because of his (except family parties because they are a lot. he usually just stays home with the kids)

[demigod-of-the-agni]

arcane got to me

featuring my boy kalki and him talking to his dashavatar predecessor, krishna. variants under cut.

also everyone say thank you to nasa for providing these beautiful star pictures, they saved lives (my life. i cannot draw stars)

[sad-leon]

Asking some AU comp competitors & supporters:

- Are there any AUs you weren't familiar with that have recently caught your attention, or that you would like to learn more about?

- What are some AUs/fanworks that you enjoy, and would encourage more people to go check out? (Doesn't have to be in the comp!)

AUs that I was introduced to:

The Unicorn Paradox by @mushangaa

The Lonely Buzz in Blue by @overthinkingspark-blue

(I haven't gotten around to reading through them yet, sadly, but they're on my "read later" list for when im less depressed)

AUs that I would recommend people check out:

Firefight and Death Wish by @remedyturtles

Sidelined by @dandylovesturtles (this and firefight team up is actually perfect

Snapdragon by @bluesgras

Live Life by @superfruitland

At My Worse by @teainthesnow

Call Me Here by @rbtlvr

Those are just a few of many I'd recommend, if I listed everything I'd be here all night

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

.

[mainfaggot]

Had the most exhausting day ever

[mirrren]

Going back to straight fanfiction after years of gay men making out on my screen at all times of the day is kinda like going back in the closet for a few months. Or like. Reading a book and then watching the adaption

It’s like. I know this. I used to read this all the time but now it’s different? There’s something missing. Not enough tension

[exilley]

I’d like to one day make a proper theory about this but there are certain frameworks of mainstream and slipstream fiction where even if two works are of the same genre category they can still facilitate vastly unalike ethoses. Like, discworld and lord of the rings, for instance. Theyre both technically “high fantasy” and overlap thematically in some limited ways, but just due to the way discworld delivers its narrative non-chronologically and non-linearly, you see discourse and fan culture of a very different nature than lord of the rings— not to mention the disparity of popularity/mainstream prevalence. there’s quite a few observable material distinctions between intra-genre works, particularly in the realm of how the narratives operate on a structural level. Does it emphasize its setting or its characters? How much complexity does it delegate to certain facets of storytelling? How does the narrative construct the relations of its story elements to each other? How many of those metanarrative decisions were intentional with a specific purpose? What are unintended consequences of those decisions?

These are ideas that operate in constant conjunction with the cultural codes of genre and archetype. Media studies, and particularly the subsects that focus on fandom and fiction, has always stood to benefit from considering this kind of angle, but i’ve practically never seen it happen. Rather, there’s actually quite a bit of critical essentialism that tends to occur; statements like “x is written this way to convey y, therefore x is the inevitable end product of z social narrative, therefore x and y in combination can only ever be interpreted in this context”, and i find this reasoning falls apart with some interrogation into why cultural narratives take the form they do, because even this kind of critical study of fiction is built off assumptions about why stories are told and how we process stories. Going a step further, you could take this to understand the differences between discworld fandom and lotr fandom as stemming from not just heuristic political/archetypal dissimilarities, but dissonant incompatibilities of narrative presentation shaped by cultural expectations of story frameworks.

[tiredsadpeach]

I’m so lost lol

[beloveds-embrace]

I’m not sure if you’re taking anymore requests but can you do poly141 who finds a small fairy reader? Mystical reader so little she fits in their hands?

Tiny baby reader… yes. Fair warning i wrote this while sleepy and tired and i completely forgot to add in when reader learns their name 😭 sorry for any more mistakes!

The forest was unusually quiet, blanketed in mist that made every breath feel cool and crisp. It was the kind of morning that seemed unremarkable, easy to forget. They walked carefully along the narrow path, hunting gear packed away in favor of simple jackets and quiet conversation. Retirement had given them, once a formidable task force, the luxury of slow days, but old habits died hard; their senses remained keen, always searching for any change in the air.

And that’s when they saw it- a flicker of light, faint and trembling, deep within a thicket. It could have been a trick of the morning sun, but they hadn’t survived as long as they have by chalking up everything strange, unusual think to happenstance.

“Careful.” John murmured, voice low and commanding. They nodded, pushing through the brush with quiet purpose and carefulness, until the glimmer came into focus.

There, tangled in a web of thin brambles, was something neither war nor time had ever prepared them for- a tiny, shimmering, actually-real fairy, no larger than the palm of a hand. Your wings, gossamer-thin and glowing with iridescent light, fluttered weakly as you tried to free you. You turned your head, eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and exhaustion, and they all felt their breath catch.

Soap was the first to recover. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. He took a cautious step forward, hands up as if approaching a skittish animal. He couldn’t believe his eyes, but you are real. You are actually real. “Hey now, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt ya.”

The fairy- you -watched him warily, but there was a flicker of hope in your gaze. Gaz crouched next to Johnny, brows furrowed. “We need to get her out of there,” he said, his voice gentle. “Quickly.”

Johnny nodded, already reaching into his pack for a small knife. “Don’t move, all right, wee one? We’ll get you free.” He kept his movements slow, mindful of how fragile you seemed. With careful precision, he began cutting away the brambles, each snip bringing a little more freedom and a little more light. Price and Ghost kept watch over them, cautious still but not really that worried considering your size.

When you were finally free, you collapsed, too weak to stay upright. Gaz caught you, cradling you in his hands as if you were made of glass. “You’re safe now.” he murmured, his eyes soft. He could feel the faint warmth of your glow against his skin, like holding a tiny ember. More proof that you are real, even if it seemed so impossible.

Your wings twitched, and with a shaky breath, you looked up at them. “Thank…you,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a sweet chime in the wind.

“You are talking,” Soap breathed, a childlike wonder lighting up his face. “You talk.” It makes you giggle just a little, if you are honest with yourself. Your wings attempt to flutter behind you, but they are not Quite Right. You shift on your feet, visibly unsure now.

John stepped closer, his gaze warm but measured, and bent down so his face was at the same level as your body. “Easy there. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” His thumb, calloused from years of wielding weapons, gently brushed a stray leaf from your hair. He had to be extra careful, extra slow so as to not alarm you, and then holds his hand out for you to step into. “Your wings aren’t moving right, are they? We can help you.”

You shake your head slowly to his first question, looking away from his eyes. You’d never really approached humans before… always too big and scary, but there four were nice, at the very least. You and your unique magic couldn’t sense anything particularly bad from them, so that’s why you hadn’t immediately tried to fly far, far away from them.

You lean into John’s touch, sitting down and holding onto his thumbs for stability. You do know out of all of them, you still haven’t heard the masked one speak, just felt him bore his gaze at you, but you don’t care. “Where… are we going?” You ask instead.

“Near our cottage,” Price said, voice low and soothing. “Not far. We can bring you there, get you warm and fed, and you can let your wings rest there.”

You nodded slowly, exhaustion overcoming you. John held you close while they comtinued walking back. As you rested, your glow dimmed to a soft warmth that seeped into his palms and made them glow, a quiet reminder of your presence. The journey back was filled with silent glances- each man marveling at the fact that something so otherworldly, so impossibly delicate, had chosen to trust them.

When they arrived at the cottage, Soap carefully laid out a small, soft cloth on the table, creating a makeshift bed for you to rest one while Kyle thought you’d enjoy having a different option, so he placed a leafy pot nearby for yoh. Ghost silently set a thimble of water nearby while John stirred a pot on the stove, filling the room with a comforting aroma. You drank slowly, savoring every drop and feeling strength return to your body, to your wings.

“Better?” Ghost asked you at last, voice low, his eyes never leaving you. You nodded, a grateful smile breaking across your face despite the hints of fear caused by his mask. You didn’t see it, but there was a collective untensing of shoulders, worry lessening.

Over the next few hours, you spoke in halting words, telling them of the storm that had torn through the woods and separated you from your kin. They listened with full attention, not interrupting you. Kyle even offered you a finger to lean on when you shivered a little, reminded of the pain while you recounted your tale. But after that, you continue your rest, now the one asking them questions and learning who they are.

By evening, you were still nestled in the soft, makeshift bed near the fire, your wings catching the flickering light. As you drifted into a peaceful sleep, your light grew stronger- very content in your warm spot, and feeling safe and secure from wild animals and the weather outside. Occasionally, you feel different hands and fingers brush across your head, and each time it makes you let out a happy squeak, uncaring for the conversations happening in the background.

You wonder if they’d let you stay with them…

[thankyouivy]

Hiii! I am reading allllll your blurbs and ffs and god I adore your writing!!!!!

Could you write about Spencer Reid and reader (no sub! Or dom! dynamic If it’s ok) in their early stages of their relationship (at this point they’ve already had sex and he found out he’s totally obsessed with eating her out), and pleads for her to sit on his face but she doesn’t wanna do it at first cause she’s a bit worried she might hurt him? But he begs her so much he convinces her and well… the rest I’ll leave it to you! ;)

If it’s alright with you of course💘💓💕💖💗

i got you babycakes!!!

warnings: oral sex [f rec], face sitting, begging, hair pulling, cumming untouched, this is just pure smut.

———

Need - Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

“Please, sugar,” Spencer whispers into your ear.

He’s been asking you the same thing for the past few weeks, a fantasy of his that just won’t go away; he wants you to sit on his face.

Spencer is very into oral, specifically, eating you out for as long as you’ll let him. When you asked him about this, he explained thats it’s something called an oral fixation, he literally can’t get enough of it, which would add up, because you can count how many times the two of you have had sex without him giving you head on one hand.

(Evidently, all of those times had just been when you were too tired to go for an entire hour and just needed him inside you immediately, to which he had given you a little pout and then fulfilled your request.)

Whatever his reasoning is, eating you out gets both you and him off, and he wants more.

“Spencer, im just not sure about it, what if I hurt you?” You tell him. You’re straddling his hips while he’s laid out on his couch, you in a loose shirt and panties, and him in his work clothes, minus the tie.

“It’s completely safe if done properly, I did my research.” He reassures you, planting a kiss on your lips as he runs his hand up your back under your shirt.

“Research, huh?” You giggle at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “mhmm,” he hums and smiles into another kiss.

As you pull apart, he whispers, “please baby, I want to make you feel so good… wanna taste you,” his voice is breathy and his pupils are blown wide with lust.

You whimper and grind down slightly in his lap, desperate for a little bit of friction as his words shoot straight to your core. He groans at your ministrations and you can feel him getting hard beneath you through your panties. “I want you to take what you need from me… grind that pretty little pussy on my tongue until you cum in my mouth…”

You moan at his words, bite your lip, and nod your head frantically. Who knew Spencer could be so persuasive?

Ecstatic that he finally got a yes out of you, Spencer lifts you off his lap momentarily and helps you pull your panties down and off your legs, biting his lip when he sees you’re soaked.

You start unbuttoning his shirt but only get to about half before he gets to impatient and pulls your own shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest. He bites his lip and places a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your lips, and you can feel him, rock hard through his suit pants.

He flops back down onto the couch, pulling you with him, as he shuffles down a bit more, giving room for your knees to sit on either side of his head.

Slowly, you crawl up his body, until you’re hovering above his face. His hair is messy and splayed out across the leather of his couch, his shirt is half off one shoulder, and he is visibly salivating as he stares directly at your core.

Noticing you still look a little unsure, he gives you a little smile. “if I need you to get off, which is extremely unlikely, I will tap your hip twice, alright, sugar?” He asks, and you nod. “You’re in control here, if you want to stop, we will stop.” He assures you, and you can’t help but blush. Could he get any sweeter?

Feeling more confident in the situation and a little less nervous, you slowly lower your hips onto his face, putting as little weight onto him as possible.

Immediately he licks into you, grabbing your hips and guiding them further onto him. You let out a gasp and your hips stutter away from the pleasure momentarily before he pulls you right back into his mouth.

His tongue runs through your folds, lapping up your wetness, and you moan loudly. His tongue flicks over your hardened clit, humming in delight when he feels you become wetter. You whine, letting more weight settle onto him and grinding into the teasing, hands searching for something to grab onto, eventually grabbing his hair with one and the armrest of the couch with the other.

You were reduced to soft moans, little uh’s and ah’s leave your mouth as your hips stutter and your eyes roll back into your skull.

He begins licking into your opening while his nose ruts against your clit and you throw your head back and shut your eyes tightly, moaning so loud the neighbours can probably hear everything that’s going on, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“F- uck! oh my god, Spencer-” You cry out, and that just spurs him on. His own hips are twitching, arching off the couch as he eats you out.

Heat is coiling in your stomach, Spencers name is the only thing reverberating in your head. Why were you ever against this idea again?

“Oh- Ah- god Spencer- you’re gonna make me- holy- sh- it!” You cry

Spencer moans against you as you chant his name, frantically humping his face as he sucks on your clit.

“FUCK! I’m cumming!” You scream as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You yank Spencer’s hair and your hips spasm on his face as Spencer lets out his own whimpers and cries. His hips thrust upwards as his own orgasm reaches him and his eyes roll back into his head.

Your back is arched and you’re leaning over him as you catch your breath. For a second you black out and completely forget you’re sitting on his face, but once you remember you quickly lift your hips up and look down at him with a worried expression.

Spencer looks completely blissed out. He gently rubs his large hands up and down your sides as you breathe heavily, and licks your slick off his lips. He grins at you, lust still evident in his eyes.

“We are so doing that again.”

More of my stuff can be found here.

~Ivy 🪴

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: Hii im the anon who ask for the wips and i saw the blurbs you have. IM VERY MUCH HOOKED with the third ones where hoshina loves reader's smile🥹 relating to that maybe i would like to add(if you want, but feel free to do seperate if you want) soft moments with hoshina x reader who felt like she being the most pessimistic person regarding love(not anti but just felt like she doesn't deserve it) so she is on denial when hoshina make a move on her

notes: reader is usually rather energetic, talkative reader, hoshina thinks you are "beautiful" at some point, TYSM FOR THE REQ!! sorry it took so long omg

wc: 1300

Something was wrong— terribly wrong. There was no way someone would want you, let alone your vice-captain who could have anyone in the world. Not your vice-captain who did everything with such care and looked after everyone so preciously. And definitely never your vice-captain you were terribly in love with.

There must be some mistake. Or else he wouldn’t have just said what you thought he said.

“Pardon me?” you asked.

He looked a little flustered and you had never seen such an expression on him, confusing you further. “I love you,” he said again, softly. “I’d love to know if you’re in a relationship.”

The way he spoke so carefully added to how nervous it made you feel— it was so different from how he usually talked to you. Now, you were lost to say the least, because you couldn’t think of one reason why he would like you, let alone romantically. Under normal circumstances, you’d assume you were being played with or that this was a silly prank or dare, but you knew that Hoshina wasn’t one to do something so horrible. So what was happening?

“I am not…” you said, still confused, but the visible relief in his eyes made your heart tighten. Oh gosh, is he serious?

“I’m… thrilled,” he said, and he wished you goodnight and left. While you were terribly flustered to know he liked you back, there was a voice in your head that wouldn’t stop making you feel anxious. Something felt so odd to you— to be loved back. To be loved back by him. You enjoyed talking to people so you talked to him often, but never had you thought he'd think of you like that. Having a naturally talkative personality, it was true that both of you had fun talking to each other, but you had accepted that your love was unrequited ages ago. When would he have possibly fallen in love with you? The more you thought about it the more impossible it sounded. As thoughts of him circled your head, it’d be morning before you knew it.

It'd be hard for him to point out exactly when he fell in love with you, because he was in love before he knew it. Before he knew it, he'd catch himself following you with his eyes. He adored watching you work, because you made everything look exciting. Of course, he saw how you groaned at the paperwork you had to do, but he'd see how the little things would put a smile on your face.

He liked the work he did, he liked all of it quite frankly. From neutralizing kaiju all the way down to the research he had to do— rarely did he think something was a chore to do, but if you were around to laugh at something silly he found or mutter about the binders and binders of files that the 3rd division just doesn't have space for anymore, he'd start looking forward to these moments.

While he knew you were like this with everyone, he hoped that you were happiest with him. It would mean everything to him if you looked forward to doing seemingly mundane work with him too.

However, while he loved so much about you, there was one moment specifically that made him realize he wasn't moving on. His heart would be yours forever at this rate. You'd look so horribly tired after all this work, and yet, if someone needed help with anything at all, you'd still smile and ask them what's wrong. You'd find the energy and speak to them so kindly. You might not have the energy you usually had, but you'd be so happy to help. Even if they couldn't tell how exhausted you were, he could. He knew how much you did for everyone in the division, and he thought you were stunning when you did so. You were the most beautiful when you had that lovely smile on your face that seemed to light up his world.

He loved you so dearly.

You loved talking to people, so there always seemed to be something for you to talk about. A new finding you wanted to share or a terribly random thought that popped up in your head. While you naturally talked to most of the people in the division, you looked forward to talking to Hoshina the most. The way he'd always listen so intrigued at your dumbest thoughts and laugh at the smallest things you said meant more to you than one would probably think.

And if you shared your daily happenings with him, he'd share his with you too. To say you loved these moments would truly be an understatement. Nothing could possibly make you happier.

However, you knew he was like this with everyone. His laugh would always manage to keep the morale of the division up and he'd never miss potential problems in the condition of any of his officers. You knew he was a sweet person, but also the best one could ask for in a vice-captain. You weren't special— he was like this to everyone. You knew better than anyone else.

You couldn't imagine anyone falling for you, let alone the kindest person you'd ever meet in your life. Let alone the person you'd probably love for the rest of your life.

Yet, here you were, alone with him this afternoon working away through paperwork and it was quiet. Eerily quiet. He was the first to break the silence.

“I rather dislike the rain,” he said, looking out the window. “It’s been raining all day.”

You paused to look outside as well. “No, you’re right. I don’t mind the rain, but I hate how dark everything is.”

“Yeah,” he said. More silence.

“Sorry, I’m awkwardly nervous now,” he said, eyes fixed on his work. “I didn’t mean to make things… weird.”

You could tell he probably didn’t want you to, but you couldn’t help but look his way. Your eyes widened and your heart filled. You weren’t afraid to say much, but you were afraid to talk about this. However, you thought you’d be able to if you were talking to him.

“I just… can’t imagine that you’re… in love… with me,” you said, looking down at your paperwork. “Sounds too good to be true. I know... sounds unlike me, right?”

Immediately he looked up at you, shocked to say the least. You could tell he probably wanted to ask why, but he thought for a moment more.

“What… would I be able to do to show that I am?” he asked. “You’re the one I love… you always will be.”

Your eyes widened. “I just… don’t know why,” you said honestly. “Why me?”

“Because I love you,” he said. “I love a whole lot about you, but I love being with you. I enjoy spending time with you and watching you enjoy the life around you. Is that too simple?”

It took you a second to reply, but you felt a lot better. “No, not at all,” you said. “Because I feel exactly the same way.”

“You’re kidding”

“Absolutely not”

“I’m going to kill you if you’re lying,” he said.

That made you laugh. “You know I wouldn’t,” you said, and yes, he knew you wouldn’t.

“Hey, Hoshina,” you said, avoiding eye-contact. “If I get worried… will you tell me again?”

“I’d tell you until you get sick of my voice,” he said while getting up to kiss your forehead. “I love you so much.”

[lovelettersforthedamned]

You Are Such A Distraction

--genre + trope: FLUFF omg, sfw

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

--word count: 0.6k

--summary: you can't help that you're boyfriend, peter, is just so deliciously cute when he works.

--warnings: kissing, so much fluff, teasing.

--gif credits: @peterparkcr

There was nothing like seeing Peter work on something he’s passionate about. You’re sure you could sit on the couch for a lifetime if it meant watching his hands meticulously work on his craft. Sure, it’s not knitting or building a puzzle, but it was far more complicated than that. Mixing different chemicals into a glass, he sticks his tongue out as he quickly studies his notes one more time. He’s made web fluid hundreds of times, but he still looks at the notes he’s had since high school. 

You just couldn’t stop staring at him, it’s the way his shoulder muscles move as he lifts his arm, his laser-sharp focus, and especially the way his hands are moving to create the thing that saves so many lives every night. You must’ve zoned out a little bit because you completely missed the movement of Peter looking over at you. His voice startles you a little as he begins to speak, “Watcha lookin’ at, bug?”

Your eyes quickly meet his as you feel a warmth spread to your cheeks, “Oh! Uh-nothing. You’re just…a little distracting.”

His hands stop moving as he hears your confession. You become much more entertaining than his web fluid, completely disregarding his current project to walk towards you on the loveseat. “You think I’m distracting?” he teases. 

You can’t say anything, your voice is suddenly useless.

“Tell me more,” he adds.

You clear your throat before continuing, “You know.” You didn’t want to tell him still, too embarrassed that you were caught ogling your boyfriend. 

“No,” he continues to tease, “I don’t actually. Tell me.”

Still flustered, you rise from the couch with a grin on your face, trying to escape the situation entirely. As you stand, you feel a warm hand grab yours. You turn to face Peter’s sickly sweet doe eyes. “Hey, wait,” he kisses the top of your hand, “what’s on your mind, bug?”

Guiding you back to sit close to him, you finally speak your mind, “I’m just…You’re just so cute when you work.” 

A cocky smile finds its way onto Peter’s features, “Aw, you think I’m cute?” 

His face is suddenly very close to yours as he tries to rub it in. Pushing his face away you look at him, “Yeah, you’re annoying too.”

“Woah! I thought I was cute,” he looks at you offended, “What happened to that?”

A giggle leaves you as you lift your hand to hold the side of his face. Peter leans in as he expects a kiss, to which he is quickly interrupted by your voice, “Oh, you are, don’t worry,” you start, “you’re annoying too, bug.”

He leans back with one sharp motion. A pained look twists his face as he brings his hand to his chest as if you’ve actually hurt him, “Ouch! That was pretty low.”

“Mhm, sure it did,” you respond sarcastically, pulling him in for the kiss he’s been aching for this entire time. It’s sweet, but incredibly short as Peter pulls away abruptly.

“I thought I was annoying?” a smug expression written on his face, still within inches of yours.

Your eyes are still focused on his lips, clearly yearning for his touch, “Shhhhh.”

Pulling him back in for another kiss, he finally complies, giving into your touch to kiss you properly this time. 

--this is just something sweet, because it's only wednesday and im so tired already. my ask/inbox is open...so send me some ideas for future fics, or if you just wanna talk i'm all ears! please support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!!!! ok, bye ily <333.

[loveywon]

♡𓂃 START NOW !

part 2 is out!

pairing: jungwon x (gn)reader wc: 3.3k synopsis: you and jungwon never really got along, but one morning you're in bed with him and you both don't recognize the room that you're in. warnings: fluff, there's a baby, angst if you squint idk, not proofread, riki n sunghoon mentioned, you n jungwon are seniors in high school! a/n: my first fic on here...NERVOUS.....IM LAZY TO PROOFREAD......pls enjoy though !!!(≧∀≦)

“Anyone who has to endure waking up next to you every morning is definitely receiving karma for something bad they did,” you rolled your eyes at Jungwon who is currently looking at you with squinted eyes and a scowl on his face. 

That's the last thing you said to him before leaving school and going back home to only fight with him again the next morning. Except, you didn’t wake up in your usual bed and you didn’t hear your usual blaring alarm off the next morning. Instead, you actually feel a little hot. You don’t remember putting an extra blanket on you before going to bed last night, but you still felt an extra weight and heat radiating around you. 

You blink twice, eyes still puffy from sleep as you roll over onto your side to get out of bed, but before you could actually even move your legs, a force pulled you closer to the center of the bed. You suppressed a scream. What if it was a serial killer? What if Jungwon had enough and decided to hire a hitman to kill you?! Millions of thoughts began to run through your head, but you snapped out of it when you heard a grumble from behind you. You gulped, deciding whether or not your best option was to just lay still until your potential killer got tired of waiting or if you should grab your lamppost from your bedside table and whack the person with it. 

You got this, y/n! You slowly reach for the lamp, your left hand reaching out slowly to unplug the lamp as quietly as possible. With the blinds slightly cracked open from the window, something on your left finger shined in the light and you paused from almost being potentially blinded, but also because you never wore any jewelry? You quickly looked at your hand, and saw a fat, bright diamond staring right back at you on your ring finger. 

In the state of shock you were in, you quickly turned around to what could be your potential killer in bed with you, but to add onto your surprise even more (honestly how did you not get a stroke?), there laid Jungwon himself, face half buried into the pillow and an arm loosely wrapped around your waist. 

“What the fuck…” you whispered, eyes darting between your ring and Jungwon. You quickly got out of Jungwon’s arms and got on your feet, starting to pace around from stress. You didn’t even recognize the place you were in, everything was decorated so nicely, but so different from your house that you were literally in last night. You quickly peeked through the blinds, seeing that you were in a very suburban neighborhood that you did not recognize. You stopped pacing after getting nowhere, turning to look at Jungwon’s sleeping state. He mumbled something in his sleep, his arm subconsciously moving around the bed where you were previously laying on. This caused him to blink his eyes open and lift his head off the pillow after not finding you in bed with him.

“Good morning, princess. You had a good sleep? Oh me too, now do you please mind telling me where the fuck are we!?” You exclaimed, walking back to the edge of the bed to greet a sleepy Jungwon. 

“What.. what are you doing here in my house?” Jungwon muttered, not really wanting to fight with you in the bright and early morning. He failed to process that he is in fact, not in his own home anymore. 

“This is your house? If I remember correctly, last time when Riki invited me over to yours for the party, your house did not look like this. And I highly doubt that your house would have frilly curtains like this. Your curtains were literally blue last time I was there,” you sighed, clearly frustrated with the fact that Jungwon seemingly did not know where they were. 

He slowly sat up in the bed, rubbing his eyes in an adorable manner (you would rather barf every day than admit this) as he took in his surroundings. His brows furrowed as he did so, realizing that you were right (he would rather smell Riki’s feet than admit this). “Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh!” your tone dripping in sarcasm as you started to pace around the bedroom again. You spot a vanity in the corner of the room, and you decide to look through the drawers for maybe something. You didn’t know what you were looking for, but literally anything! Something! 

As you get to the vanity, you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Um…Jungwon…come here…”

He was still taking in his surroundings, rolling his eyes as he groggily got out of bed and trudged towards you.  He bends down to look at the mirror, eyes widening at the sight before him.

Both of you looked much more mature than you did last night, your hair was a lighter color and Jungwon’s (handsome) facial features were much more fitting in his face. 

“What. Why do we look like this??” Jungwon’s hands flew to his face, touching his cheek as he poked himself while looking at the mirror. “This is some serious sick joke, it has to be! I’m gonna call Sunghoon. It was probably his doing,” He rushed to grab his phone from the bedside table, only to find that his phone was a completely different model and much thinner than his original phone. He ignores it, opening his contacts to call up Sunghoon.

“I’ll call Riki, this seems like something he would also do,” you mumble more to yourself as you grab your phone as well, which is the same as Jungwon’s; much thinner than your actual phone. 

Both of you dial up Sunghoon and Riki, holding up your phones to your ears. You bite on your lip absentmindedly as the phone rang and Jungwon tapped his foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. 

“Sunghoon!”

“Riki!”

“Hey, um, you can take us back home now…this house is kinda starting to creep me out. The prank is over, right? Y/n is getting on my nerves,” Jungwon mumbled the last part into the phone, taking a slight peek at you. You return his look, sharp pointed eyes glaring at him since you heard his last sentence.

“Stop with this prank, seriously Riki! I think I might make Jungwon bald faster than he already is if I’m stuck here any longer!” You spoke into the phone, not bothering to keep your words shushed. You wanted him to hear it. 

Jungwon merely rolled his eyes at your words, choosing to be the “bigger” person, as if he didn’t just say that you were getting on his nerves earlier. 

Over the phone, Sunghoon spoke, “What prank? I literally dropped you guys off at home last night, what are you talking about? Also I thought after you and Y/n got married, you would stop with your silly bickering. Ah, you guys are so cute.”

Jungwon swore his eye twitched at Sunghoon’s words.

“Hi Y/n! I don’t know what prank you’re talking about, I swear! Whatever it is, it’s not me this time! Maybe it was Sunghoon, didn’t he see you guys last night? And you’re still bullying Jungwon after all these years? I thought we left that at high school!” Riki chuckled through the phone.

You swore your eye twitched.

You both hung up after saying your goodbyes, deeming them as useless. You and Jungwon turn back to each other from opposite ends of the bed. 

“It’s not Sunghoon.”

“It’s not Riki.” 

You opened your mouth again to start panicking, however, a spine chilling cry came from across the hall, through the closed door of the bedroom you and Jungwon were in. The both of you furrowed your brows in confusion. It sounded like a baby’s cry, and last time the both of you checked, you guys didn’t have any younger siblings. 

You hesitated to check out where the crying was coming from, but the ever so (annoying) brave Jungwon didn’t think twice to leave the bedroom and open the door across the hall. You quickly follow behind, not wanting to be left alone in the foreign bedroom. You peek from behind his shoulder, only to find a baby crying in their cradle, flailing their arms around as they sob loudly. 

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna puke,” you say exaggeratedly.  Truth be told, the baby was cute, but you were never a person that experienced baby fever. 

Jungwon rolled his eyes at you before walking towards the cradle, shushing the baby quietly as he took it into his arms and started to rock it back and forth in his arms as if it was second nature. The baby surprisingly didn’t cry louder when Jungwon picked it up, which showed on Jungwon’s facial features as he continued to shush the baby. You watched silently, a slight pout unknowingly forming on your lips before Jungwon spoke. 

“I think she’s hungry. Can you get me the baby bottle behind you and make the milk?” He asked quietly, not wanting to scare the baby since the baby doesn’t know him. 

“Oh, uh, yeah…” you replied, turning around to the table behind you. You grabbed the baby bottle and twisted the cap open, but didn’t make a move to do anything else. You stared at the machine. It looked like an espresso machine, but you didn’t exactly know how to work it. You start to press a few buttons, however, none were successful. 

Jungwon sighed, “You have no idea how to make baby milk do you?” He stated more than questioned before he walked towards you and gestured to you to take the baby out of his arms so that he could make the milk. 

You stared at him. He wanted you to hold a baby? You considered yourself to never be trusted with a baby. “Um, I…” You started, forming excuses that were on the tip of your tongue but Jungwon stopped you before you could say anything.

“Just hold her. It’s not the end of the world.”

You bit on your inner cheek, grabbing the baby from his arms and started to cradle her with it. Hey! It was easier than you thought, like you had done this before (you haven’t, your parents never let you near your baby cousins). 

You stared at the baby as Jungwon started to mix the baby milk formula, studying her features. She was actually a lot cuter up close, and before you even noticed, a small smile started forming on your features and the baby soon stopped crying and giggled upon seeing your smile.

Jungwon abruptly turned around, scared that you did something to the baby since she had stopped crying. “What did you d-” He asked hurriedly, but stopped himself when he saw you admiring the baby. 

When you weren’t telling him that he was balding, he always thought you were pretty. This was the closest he’s been next to you when seeing you smile. Everytime he did see you smile, it was always from across the lunchroom at school, or on the other side of the class you two shared together. 

Catching himself staring, he quickly turned back around to attend the milk, but his own little smile graced his face as well. 

“Mama!” The baby babbled, small hands reaching out to touch your hair. You swore you almost dropped the baby on the floor, eyes almost popping out of your head as your jaw went agape. 

Jungwon halted his movements as well, about to pour the milk formula into the baby bottle. He slowly turned around, the baby bottle still in hand but only half filled. 

“What did she just say.” You and Jungwon said flatly in unison. 

After putting the baby back in the cradle and properly giving her the milk, you and Jungwon both left the baby room and sat on a bench that was in the hallway. 

It was silent after a while, neither of you guys knowing what to say or think. 

“Okay…realistically, that is probably someone else’s baby, right? And she’s still young, so she probably just thought that you were her mother…” Jungwon said after some time, his hands running through his hair as he stressed about their current situation. 

“Yeah, but,” you hesitated to say what you were thinking, looking at the door that led to the baby’s room.

“What? Say it. We only have each other right now. I don’t know where we are, and if Sunghoon and Riki insist that this is our house, they are either very, incredibly serious, or they are stretching out this prank. But I don’t think either would go as far as to use a real baby for a prank…right?” Jungwon started to ramble before realizing it.

“She looked like you.”

His head turned to look at you, but you were still facing the baby’s door. “What are you talking about?” He said suspiciously, for once hesitating to ask you about something. He’s never been scared of you - he thinks he never will be. At first, when you two first crossed paths in freshman year of high school, he didn’t think you were scary. Maybe intimidating, but not scary. He doesn’t even remember your first interaction, if he was being honest. He likes to think his first interaction with you was when you both were helping out Yearbook with taking photos of the dance and you asked him to hand you a SD card because your camera was missing one. He knows it wasn’t actually your first interaction with him. 

You remember your exact first words with Jungwon.

“You said I stink?” You said as you stood above his desk where he was sitting, three minutes before your shared class starts. 

He blinks up at you, studying your furrowed brows and the slight pout on your lips. His mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. You roll your eyes, reaching for something in your backpack. You take out a Jo Malone perfume, and start to spray it between you and him. You stopped until Jungwon started coughing from the amount of strong fragrance in the air, smiling like you won first place at an Olympic sport, before walking back to your designated seat.

Jungwon bought the perfume the next day, waiting for you to use all the perfume up and putting it in your locker when he heard you complain to your friends that it was getting empty. 

“She has your eyes and your dimples when she giggles.” You say, matter of factly. You didn’t want to admit that you take in Jungwon’s cat-like eyes, the soft brown that they are and his cute dimples he has whenever he laughs at something stupid Riki said. 

“She also has your nose,” Jungwon also says after a little silence. He noticed the baby’s nose when he first picked her up, how could he not when he spends your time arguing to admire your facial features? 

You stay quiet after he says that, unsure of what to say. This was awkward, and there was literally nothing to go off of. The only proof of whose home this is, is that a random baby that spawned out of nowhere looks like both you and Jungwon. Is that really enough to go off of?

As the both of you are in deep thought, you snap out of it as your stomach grumbles from not eating dinner last night. You crashed in bed as soon as you finished your homework, completely forgetting to eat dinner.

Jungwon does his best to stifle a laugh, but he fails, which earns him a glare from you. He stands up from the bench, your eyes following his movements as he walks towards the stairs. He looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “Are you coming? Riki says I make a mean pancake.”

Your brows raise in surprise, standing up from the bench and following him down the stairs. As you take in the new surroundings, Jungwon just strides into the kitchen as if he knew exactly where he was. 

“Are you sure you aren’t the one pranking me? You look so…natural in the house,” You start to question, but you highly doubt it because he panicked and over thought as much as you did. He shrugs at your question, but he begins to think the same as well. How did he exactly know where the kitchen was, not thinking twice about looking at yet another new surroundings. 

As he starts to prepare the pancakes for the both of you, you walk towards the living room that is next to the open spaced kitchen. There’s a scrapbook laid open on the coffee table, and you quickly rush to look at it, thinking it would give you some hints about where you were.

You were wrong. It only made you even more confused as you started to flip through the pages.

Even though it freaked you out what was on the pages, you couldn’t help but keep looking at the filled pages full of photos and writings. 

Every single photo had a photo of at least you, Jungwon, or the baby.

You’re flipping through the pages backwards, so when you get to the first few pages, you see a photo of you and Jungwon under a decorated wedding arch. Your eyes widen at the pictures, one of you kissing him on the cheek and another of both of you kissing on the lips. You felt like throwing up.

Fighting through it, you keep going backwards until you reach the first page. There lies a taped letter, and you instantly recognize it as Jungwon’s writing. You read it, and the further you get down to the end of the written letter, you don’t notice Jungwon calling your name.

“Y/n! The pancakes are ready…” his voice fades out as he peers over your shoulder to see  what you’re looking at. His face pales. 

He wrote that letter in junior year. He remembers so vividly, him planning to put it in your locker. Even though he enjoys your little bickering here and there, he wants to be able to hold you, kiss you, and love you. He wants to see you smiling, not because of your friends, but because of him. You only frown whenever you’re around him.

He wishes you didn’t mishear what he said. Maybe if you heard “Riki stinks” instead of “Y/n stinks”, you two would have been a couple sooner. 

“You like me?” You ask him, but you’re not looking at him. You’re staring blankly at the last words written on the letter that reads, “Please accept my liking for you! - Jungwon<3.”

His mouth is dry. 

He never did put it in your locker. He really was! But their senior, Intak, beat him to it. You rejected Intak for whatever reason, but he lost his courage to shove the letter into your locker for the rest of the year and decided that bickering and fighting with each other would be enough to satiate him for the time being. 

After a long silence, you shut the scrapbook and put it back on the table. You shift on the couch that you’re sitting on, turning around to look him in the eye, however, he’s not looking at you. He’s staring down at his pancakes, teeth capturing his bottom lip as he thinks of what to say. 

He doesn’t think you reciprocate his feelings. Why would you when you pick a fight with him every day at school? He thinks you’re just bored and find entertainment in bickering with him, and he’s fine with that. At least he gets to interact with you daily, it’s enough for him.

But now? He’s scared. He’s scared that if he answers yes, he does like you, then you will never speak to him. Knowing you, you might walk out the door of this foreign house that they’re in, and never come back. 

“I don’t know if I like you, to be honest.” You say flatly, as if you were so sure of what you were saying. He still doesn’t look up from his pancakes. He expected this.

“But, I can start now.”

part 2 out now!

[gojoshotblackwife]

|| 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗍, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋．

꥟ 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 x 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘣!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

꥟ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋．

☽ 𝗰𝘄: 𝟣𝟪+ 𝗆𝖽𝗇𝗂, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼!𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 (𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂), 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗌 (r! 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 (𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀) 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 (𝗂�� 𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍), 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾, 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

☆ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟤.𝟦𝗄

— 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝗍𝗅𝗈𝗎𝟤, 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲! 🇵🇸 —

|| 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 while 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽！

you spend most of your days tending to the children of jackson. kissing boo-boos or cleaning up accidents. child care is your calling and you’re happy to contribute to your community, jackson, however possible.

your nights, however, consist of anxious pacing, impatience and (understandable) overthinking.

checking the digital clock on your lovers bedside, the glowing red numbers read ‘3:00 AM’ . as each minute passed you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your chest, imagining the endless endeavors your green-eyed girl could be facing at this very moment. oh how you fear for ellie’s life as if it were your own. your mind often flickers images of a world where you were more than the owner of jackson’s child care facility. a world where you didn’t have to sit and wait anxiously for the door to open like an abandoned puppy. you yearn to care for ellie like you care for those kids. to stay by her side and prevent the bruises and scars, not tending to them after the damage had already been done.

all the fingers and toes in the world couldn’t add up to the endless times you watched ellie stumble through her bedroom door, covered in scratches or riddled with bloodstains. too many times were you afraid to ask and too many times have you immediately rushed to her side to tackle her with little “i love you”s and “it’s okay”s before leading her to the bathroom, a warm wet rag in hand.

you almost hate yourself for the simple act of not being able to be there for ellie whilst she fought off deadly infected or dangerous looters. you knew you couldn’t go out there with her, hell you spent the entirety of your life inside jackson’s walls, coddled from the dangers that roam outside of them. you were never built for that shit. but ellie, she was made for it. you could tell from the moment you saw her, scuffed and dirty from her voyage with joel. she was an animal, in the best way possible. she was rough, and had character, more than you did anyways.

you ache imagining the day joel, tommy or dina would slowly march through jackson’s child care center, hat in hand with a grieving look you could read from a mile away. you can hear the ringing in your ear while you read lips that read “ellie is-”

the sound of squeaky door hinges shakes you from your thoughts, your head snapping up to meet tired, green orbs and a small smirk.

“angel. you stayed up for me?” ellie asks, an arm holding her side. she’s clearly hurt and doesn’t want you to see. rushing to her side, you’re careful not to squeeze or hold her too tight, afraid to worsen any of the injuries she’s obviously obtained throughout her patrol.

“ ‘so glad you’re safe. ‘was so worried” you mutter into her ear, arms slung over her shoulders. you can hear your girl chuckle as she takes her free arm to wrap it around your waist, relaxing into your touch. “i know babe, im so sorry i took longer than usual-“ she starts before you swiftly cut her off. “nono, please don’t apologize, don’t explain. it’s okay .” you let your head fall down, resting it on her shoulder, you were so glad to have your girl home. “are you hurt?- of course you are look at you.” you answer before ellie had the chance to respond, peering down at her slender frame. you feel tears begin to well up.

you look back up at ellie, who appears to be in just as much distress as you are. you don’t have to ask. you can just tell.

“please els, let me clean you up, then we can sleep. fuck, i can’t even imagine..” you trail off, grabbing her rough hand to lead her to the bathroom.

soft little thuds follow your comparatively silent ones. your clean soft feet lead ellie’s old dirty boots, slight creaks in the wooden floor of this old house you’d turned into a home with your girlfriend.

the sting of cold tile floors was enough to remind you to turn around, just a quick glance to make sure she was still there. orpheus envied you.

“ let’s take these boots off before we get in here?” you plead, slowly crouching on your knees to assist her with your request. if ellie’s heart somehow stopped beating in that moment she’d die happy knowing she had a woman who’d wait up for her on cold winter nights and fall to her knees to care for her. if her side didn’t hurt so bad, she’d probably laugh at how smitten she is with you, how content she is watching the muscles in your face contort to frustration, hunching over, and lost in concentration tugging at the shabby boots. finally, you manage to get them off her feet, a pair of mix-matched socks greeting you with scents of rain and sweat. you place them right outside the door before pulling yourself up, signaling ellie to finally enter the bathroom and hop up on the sink.

— ꥟ ꥟ ꥟ —

little words are exchanged, as you tend to ellie’s wounds. only an occasional wince or a heavy breath. shirt lifted, she gnaws on it to ease the inevitable pain. even still, you clean up, pat dry and bandage every small cut, every mahogany bruise— no questions asked. you two remain in comfortable silence as you scrub the shorter girl clean of her guilt and shame.

ellie keeps her head hung low. she tries concealing any hint of emotion, but her cringes of pain fail her that night.

“are you okay?” your freehand lays gently on her thigh, makes a home there.

ellie’s silence is telling. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know who or what did this to her. “ellie.” you demand, brown eyes searching for hers in return. a heavy sigh falls from your chapped lips, dry from the brittle december air. “please i just- im worried. i dunno what goes on out there but-“

“doesn’t fucking matter.” ellie finally grunts out, head lower than before. she doesn’t mean that. how could she mean that? “doesn’t matter? el this is the worst you’ve come home in months. what-“ your cries of concern are abruptly interrupted when the freckled girl hops off of the sink, pushing past you to make her way to her wardrobe. she angrily strips, as if furious at the clothes that keep her warm. jacket tossed and cargos flung, you pitter-pat after her. “ellie, if you’re upset i understand. but i cannot help you if you don’t talk to me.” you beg, desperation tainting your tone. in nothing but boxers, a bra and half finished bandages, she ignores every word, pretending not to hear you over the sound of her anxiously digging through clothes, solely focused on finding some pants to sleep in and forgetting this whole night ever happened.

“doesn’t. matter.” she repeats like those are only two words of english she can remember. pants found, she stomps into them. patience thinning, you grab her shoulder, keeping her put for the moment. you can’t help the tears that pour from you, your lip quivering while you ask, “why wouldn’t this—you—matter to me?”. ellie’s dark, green eyes meet your wet brown ones and she feels her soul crush. fuck, what is she doing? she’s being an asshole to you , the last person on this fucked up earth she’d ever intentionally hurt. and god, are you hurting, face pinching into unimaginable despair, your mind pondering over what you could’ve possibly done to be treated this way after countless nights of mending her broken wings, kissing her scars better.

finally broken at the sight of her sad girl, she admits, “i almost died.” the admission tore through her as she said it, she can feel the lump in her throat. you shudder at the thought, pulling her in close. breathing in her hair, her skin, anything you could to remind yourself that she’s here and not lying dead in the snow somewhere. “els” you whisper. “i don’t think i’d know what to do with myself if you left me.” falling into the crook of her neck once more, aching for her touch. as if on cue, ellie’s strong arms clench your waist, squeezing like it was the last time she’d ever get to touch you again. you pull back, teary eyed, awaiting something, anything, from ellie.

unable to form words, or thoughts even, she opens her mouth before attaching it to yours, hoping to communicate through intertwined tongues, swabbed spit and muffled moans. enough said, you reciprocate instantly. if this is how she wanted to “talk” about it, you’re more than willing to let her speak to you like this until the sun comes up.

ellie’s hands journey to your soft cheeks, caressing them before tightening her grip, head tilting to the side to search deeper, to find your deepest secrets and suck them out of you. you let her in, your darkest desires revealing themselves as your tongues melted into each other, sounds of exchanged spit overwhelming your burning hot ears.

it’s not too long before the backs of your legs are pressed up against the foot of ellie’s bed. accepting defeat, you pull your girlfriend down with you, letting her take you in any way she deems fit. swiftly, el peels your clothes from your perfect body. a clean canvas compared to ellie’s bruised masterpiece, she swears though, tonight she’ll leave you with a few brushstrokes colored shades of deep red with hints of purple, if you’re lucky.

bare now, you peer up at a sweaty, almost feral, ellie, face dangerously close to your own. while yet to utter a single word, she finds new inventive ways to speak to you: a firm hand on your doughy breast, kneading at you like a cat, an additional firm hand on your waist to keep you still and a secure thigh up against your throbbing core, quickly dampening at her touch.

she’s quick when she lowers her face into your aching neck. it begs for ellie’s mouth, and sighs of relief at the feeling of her soaked tongue, tracing small circles while her lips suck and slurp away at your delicate skin. you’re sensitive, so you’re fast to mewl out a weak cry of her name. arms taking their rightful place wrapped around her, one hand reaching up to her auburn hair and a second digging into her back responding to the added pressure on your clit. a needy little thing you are, squirming into ellie’s thigh whilst she moves down to your pert nipple, savoring your taste. you’re a mess. hair disheveled, you cup ellie’s face. you wanted—needed—her, pulling her face closer to utter a small “please”.

ellie gives you what you need, a sneaky hand trailing down past your tummy before landing at your dripping bliss, opening your clam to reveal the precious pearl inside. el teases you slow, but with intention, her middle and index appendages rubbing you where you liked it the most. ellie can’t help but bring her face down to get a better view of the mess she’s made of you. a cheeky smile spreads across her face. this is what matters. fuck whatever happened before she walked through the door, before she mistakenly treated you like shit. she wanted this, you.

muscle memory takes over when ellie replaces the fingers on your bud with the warm muscle in her mouth. her rough tongue hits every nerve, lapping away at you. what a thirsty dog she was, whimpering and whining into your messy cunt, devouring your essence like a final meal.

the room is already muggy and hot, your little huffs filling the air, an invisible cloud of your warm arousal gets all over the windows, makes them foggy.

a broken moan falls from your precious lips, a melody from heaven to ellie’s ears. she craves to hear more of your sweet music, letting her fingers slide into you, plucking your strings. she plays you like her favorite guitar, maneuvering her fingers to play the perfect chord. utter bliss is the only emotion you’re capable of feeling. your hands journey down your person to meet ellie’s head in the middle. fingers perfectly fitting into auburn locks of hair, you rein her in, riding her face like she rode shimmer on those almost-fatal patrols.

your legs tense up at the feeling of your inevitable orgasm, and too soon did it come, picking you up before releasing you to white lights and blurring vision. repeated chants of “fuck, ellie fuck fuck fuck-” flood ellie’s bedroom, bouncing off the walls and into ellie’s ears as she curls up into your special spot, no intention of stopping anytime soon.

you shake and beg but to no avail, your green-eyed girl tears daggers into you, looking up oh-so innocently, her digits increasing her speed as she drinks up your release, drunk on it. overstimulation upon you, you search for something—anything— to free yourself of ellie’s grip, her forearm keeping you glued to the bed. completely spent, your best bet is weak pushes to ellie’s head, shaking your own as you squeak out a frail “too much. please el.” at last, she lets up, that same strong forearm releasing its grip to rub your abdomen, you catch a glimpse of the moth tatted there in ink before throwing your head back, exhaustion catching up to you after a long day of caring for the children of jackson, and an even longer night of waiting up for ellie.

roles reversing, ellie understands now that it’s her turn to take care of you . in her own way of expressing gratitude, she lifts you into her arm, silently thanking you in her head for staying up late with her, cleaning her up or listening to stories of her day. and before you can even think twice, ellie places you gently on your side of the bed, warm comforter embracing your bare figure. you’re half asleep when you hear ellie walk away, returning with water. without a word, she puts the glass in your face, urging you to hydrate. very slowly, you take the glass with both hands, slowly blinking while you down it to satisfy ellie. and satisfied she is, taking the glass from your tired hands, placing it on the bed side table.

at the brink of sleep now, you’re finally able to succumb when you feel ellie crawl into bed behind you, rugged hands tethering you close, slim arms holding you tight. it is only then, once she hooks a chin onto your shoulder, do you hear her whisper before falling asleep:

“‘m sorry. i love you.”

— ꥟꥟꥟ —

𝗱𝗶𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒’𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼. 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 <𝟥𝟥

© 𝗀𝗈𝗃𝗈𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗐𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

[its-avalon-08]

Amoreeee!

i love ur works and i have a very specific reuqest in mind. this is too detailed so please feel free to ditch a few details because im aware its too much. this is a mv1 x senna!daughter one.

max is hard racing some driver and he gets angry and flustered and he crashes because he act irresponsibly. y/n's heart stops because the way the car rotated and hit the barrier refletced her late father's passing.

her breath stops, max is ok but gp IS ANGRY at him because that could have been easily avoided. max is not hurt at all.

he is still angry when he comes back into the motor home. and then y/n gives him a cold shoulder and doesnt speak to him.

this makes max angrier leading to a passive aggressive arguement. max says something which leads y/n to say "fine then, fuck off and die see if i care" max is shcoked and so is everyonbe else in the motorhome

when she rushes out in tears she bumps into carlos/charles/lando and he comforts her and she says "i never shouldve said that"

they make up, hapoy ending make it extra emotional.

LOVE UR WORKS!

i have to confess, i love this one the most out of everything i've ever written. its extra extra long, and the anon messaged me and asked me to add a few more things, so i have done the same! anon ily ! (edit - i messed up the translation! its been fixed now!!) enjoy reading <3

coração valente (mv1) (brave heart)

find the headcannon here!

The roar of the engine was a dull thrum in Y/N's ears as she watched the battle unfold on the screen. Max was locked in a fierce fight for position with Esteban Ocon. Every aggressive lunge, every desperate attempt to overtake sent a tremor of unease through her. It was too reminiscent, too close to the edge.

Then, disaster struck. Ocon made a late move, and Max, fueled by frustration and a competitive fire, reacted impulsively. He swerved to block him, the car losing traction as it took the corner too tightly. The world slowed down as Y/N watched in horror. The Red Bull spun, a sickening ballet of red and blue against the asphalt, before slamming into the barrier with a sickening crunch.

Her breath hitched, a choked sob escaping her lips. The way the car crumpled, the dust cloud mirroring the crash that stole her father… the memory flooded back, vivid and terrifying. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst through her chest.

Thankfully, the medical team rushed to the scene, and the relief was almost a physical blow. Max emerged from the wreckage, shaken but unharmed. But the reprimand from Horner was swift and brutal. "Unnecessary risk, Verstappen! You could have avoided that entirely!"

By the time Max stormed back into the motorhome, his anger was a palpable presence. He tossed his helmet onto the couch, the thud echoing in the tense silence. Y/N sat by the window, her back to him, a cold, hard wall where warmth and concern usually resided.

"Great job out there," Max spat, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Another brilliant strategy by Horner, putting all the pressure on me."

Y/N remained silent. Her silence was a punishment, far worse than any raised voice. Max, already on edge, bristled.

"You gonna say something, genius?" he snapped. "Or are you just gonna sit there like a statue?" Y/N turned a deaf ear to that.

The air in the motorhome felt thick enough to chew on. Y/N sat at the table, meticulously organizing spare race parts, a pointed silence radiating from her. Max hovered by the coffee machine, his usual swagger dampened by a heavy frown.

Christian Horner, ever the mediator, attempted to lighten the mood. "So, Max," he boomed, "what are we learning from this little spin?"

Max, bristling at the reminder, mumbled a vague response about tire strategy. Y/N, without looking up, chimed in, "Perhaps a lesson in spatial awareness wouldn't go amiss."

The air crackled. Max whipped his head towards her, his jaw clenched. "Oh, and who's the expert on spatial awareness, Miss Never-Been-On-The-Track?"

Y/N slammed a wrench down a little too hard, the metallic clang echoing in the tense silence. "There's a difference between calculated risk and reckless driving," she retorted, her voice laced with ice.

Max scoffed. "Spoken like someone who's never felt the pressure of a championship on their shoulders."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "Pressure doesn't excuse stupidity, Max," she said, her voice clipped.

Horner cleared his throat, his booming voice a desperate attempt to break the ice. "Look, let's all take a moment to cool down. We can dissect the crash later. Right now, Max needs a clear head for the next race."

With that, Horner steered Max towards a debriefing session, leaving Y/N alone in the charged atmosphere. She picked up a stray bolt, turning it over in her hand, her knuckles white with repressed anger. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the workshop around her.

Just then, Charles walked in, his perceptive eyes catching the glint of tears on her cheeks. "Rough day?" he asked softly.

Y/N choked back a sob. "It's just… I don't know if I can watch him race anymore," she confessed, her voice thick with emotion.

Charles pulled up a chair beside her, his presence a silent comfort. "You know Max," he said gently. "He makes mistakes, but he learns from them."

Y/N shook her head. "This wasn't just a mistake, Charles. It was reckless. And it brought back…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Charles squeezed her shoulder in understanding. "The fear," he finished for her. "It's always there, isn't it?"

Y/N nodded, a tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. "I can't lose him too," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Charles offered a sad smile. "You won't," he assured her. "Max is stubborn, but he cares about you. He'll learn from this."

His words offered a glimmer of hope. Y/N knew Charles was right. But the fear, the raw terror that had gripped her during the crash, still lingered.

Max, a whirlwind of frustration earlier, had retreated into a sullen silence. Y/N, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, refused to acknowledge him directly. The tension crackled between them, a storm waiting to erupt.

Daniel Ricciardo, ever the peacemaker, tried to lighten the mood. "So, Max," he said, a touch too cheerfully, "what are we having for dinner? Surely Y/N has whipped up some magic in the kitchen?"

Y/N's lips twitched, but she remained focused on her phone, pretending not to hear. Max, still fuming, mumbled a curt, "I don't care."

The forced joviality died a quick death. Charles, sensing the undercurrents, offered, "Actually, I wouldn't mind ordering some takeout. How about some Indian?"

Y/N finally looked up, her voice clipped. "No, thank you, Charles. I'm not particularly hungry."

Max scoffed. "Suit yourself. More for the rest of us, then."

The passive-aggressive jabs continued throughout the evening, each veiled comment a fresh barb. Y/N praised Charles's recent qualifying performance, a clear dig at Max's reckless driving. Max, in turn, bragged about a new training program he was starting, a not-so-subtle jab at Y/N's perceived lack of understanding.

"Honestly that race was mine, Ocon fucked it up for everyone," Max proclaimed.

"Maybe," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "if you hadn't been so busy playing daredevil, you wouldn't have thrown away the race."

The words hung heavy in the air. Max felt a flicker of something cold and sharp twist in his gut. "Playing daredevil?" he scoffed. "I was out there fighting for the win!"

"At what cost?" Y/N's voice cracked, the dam of her emotions threatening to burst. "Do you even understand the fear you put me through?"

Max, for the first time, saw a glimpse of the terror that mirrored his own reckless driving. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words wouldn't come.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions. Then, in a moment of horrifying clarity, Max blurted out, "Look, if you can't handle the pressure, maybe you should just—"

The sentence died on his lips as he saw the blood drain from Y/N's face. She stared at him, her eyes filled with a hurt so profound it took his breath away.

"Fine then," she said, her voice a choked whisper. "fuck off and die. see if i care."

The words echoed in the stunned silence. Everyone in the motorhome froze, their eyes wide with shock. Even Max, fueled by anger, felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.

Y/N didn't wait for a response. Tears streaming down her face, she bolted out of the motorhome, the slam of the door a punctuation mark to the shattered silence.

Max stared after her, a tapestry of emotions swirling within him – anger, regret, a terror that mirrored her own. He lunged after her, but Charles, who had witnessed the exchange, caught him by the arm.

"Let her go," Charles said gently, his voice laced with concern. "She needs some space."

Max sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. "What did I do?" he rasped, the anger replaced by a crushing weight of remorse.

The atmosphere was suffocating. Everyone, even the usually jovial mechanics, seemed to walk on eggshells around the warring couple. Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she walked, the weight of the fight, the fear, and the unspoken hurt threatening to overwhelm her. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

The cool night air did little to soothe the burning in Y/N's eyes. She wandered away from the motorhome complex, her legs numb and directionless. The roar of the track faded behind her, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves. Tears streamed down her face, carving clean tracks through the grime of the day.

Then, she saw it. Half-hidden behind a cluster of trees, a towering mural emerged from the darkness. It was a familiar image – her father, mid-corner, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of yellow and green. A wave of emotions washed over her – grief, pride, and now, a searing anger.

Sinking down onto a nearby bench, Y/N found herself talking to the painted image. "Why didn't you tell me, Dad?" she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Why didn't you tell me how terrifying it would be to watch someone you love race?"

"Doesn't he understand, Dad? Doesn't he see the risk he takes? It's like he doesn't care! Doesn't care about the fear he puts me through, the terror that I relive every single time I see a car spin out of control!"

She slammed her fist against the concrete wall, a raw scream escaping her lips. The sound echoed in the quiet night, a testament to the storm raging within her. Tears streamed down her face, hot and angry.

"And then," she continued, her voice trembling, "he has the audacity to get mad at me? To act like I'm the one overreacting? Doesn't he see what his actions do? Doesn't he see what he almost took away from me today?"

Silence, except for the rustle of leaves in the night breeze. But in her mind, she could almost hear his voice, warm and reassuring. "coração valente (brave heart)," it seemed to say, the nickname he always used for her. "Fear is a part of it, but it doesn't have to control you."

Y/N wiped her eyes, a flicker of understanding replacing the anger. Her father hadn't raced because it was easy. He raced because of the passion, the thrill, the dance with danger. He wouldn't have wanted her to live in fear, but to find her own strength, her own way to navigate the world he left behind.

The sting in his eyes wasn't just from the acrid smoke billowing from a nearby barbecue. Max's chest ached with a dull ache that had nothing to do with the crash. Y/N's words, "fine then, fuck off and die. See if I care," echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his monumental screw-up.

He couldn't just sit there, stewing in his self-pity. He needed to find her, needed to apologize and explain the terrifying realization that had dawned on him during their tense silence.

Following a hunch, he made his way to the secluded corner where the mural of Ayrton Senna stood. In the dim glow of a single overhead light, he saw Y/N curled up with her back against the wall, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. A red mark marred her hand where it had connected with the concrete.

His heart lurched. He knelt down beside her, his voice barely a whisper. "Y/N?"

She flinched at the sound, whipping her tear-streaked face towards him. Her eyes, red and puffy, held a storm of emotions – hurt, anger, and something akin to pleading.

Max swallowed the lump in his throat. "I… I shouldn't have said what I said," he began, his voice thick with remorse. "My anger… it clouded everything. I didn't…" He broke off, his own voice cracking.

Tears spilled down Y/N's cheeks. "And I..." she started, her voice trembling. "I never should have said what I did. It was awful, unforgivable of me." Her voice choked on a sob. "I don't… I don't want to lose you, Max. Not like that."

With a choked cry, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Max held her tight, the dam breaking inside him. He pressed kisses to her hair, each one a silent apology, a promise.

"I get it now, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand the fear. I see it reflected in your eyes every time I step onto the track. And I promise, I'll never do anything like that again. Not if it means putting you through that kind of pain."

They clung to each other, a tangle of limbs and broken sobs. The night air vibrated with the raw emotions they were finally releasing. Slowly, the sobs subsided into sniffles, leaving behind a fragile calm.

Max pulled back, wiping away a stray tear from Y/N's cheek with his thumb. "Let's go back," he said gently, his voice hoarse. "We can talk properly, sort things out."

Y/N nodded, her eyes searching his. "Together," she added, a shaky smile playing on her lips.

Max grinned back, the familiar spark of mischief returning to his eyes. "Always," he promised. "Together, no matter what the track throws at us."

As they walked back hand-in-hand, the mural of Ayrton Senna seemed to watch over them, a silent guardian of their love, a love forged in fire, tested by fear, and ultimately strengthened by understanding and forgiveness. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with each other, they knew they could face anything.

[l0serg1rls]

all robby needed was some actual words of affirmation and for someone to believe in him for him to actually focus.

at the start, EVERYONE clocks that robby might not be okay. miguel says ‘robby is gonna be fine’ ,, demetri responds with ‘i wouldn’t be fine’ and shit he’s right because i wouldn’t be fine either. i’d be in a shambles 🙁

in the hotel room, where they’re yapping about robby with no shame knowing he’s in the room WITH them just taking a shower and talking about his performance. they KNOW what the issue is.

but noooo instead of being good friends / teammates we’re gonna shit talk him, and not be there for him.

it was OBVIOUS what the issue was, LIKE SEE-THROUGH, GLASS, VERY CLEAR. like after watching that shit you can’t tell me that people in miyagi do actually gaf about him. poor dude was obviously not okay and struggling but instead, people taking slick ass jabs at him, yapping and bitching and moaning about a captain title.. instead of simply being there for him.

to further emphasise on that let’s talk about bar scene.. robby in that bar, sam left. but his team WAS there. you’re telling me that they all just left knowing damn well robby still in that fucking bar drinking up a storm. more so, how could they NOT know?? and people expect me to believe they CARE?

maybe in another universe, not this one.

i said this before but it took miguel way too long to apologise to robby + ask what’s wrong. robby just got done dirty over and over again in this part.

i was expecting robby to be unbalanced becasue of tory, i was thinking it would’ve happened maybe twice? but it was literally annoying continuous. it pissed me off actually.

like no one believes in him, girlfriend put him on break, gets SA’d, doing terribly in fights, what the fuck man?

i was gonna add johnny in this and say that johnny should’ve picked up on it but he cares more about devon, miguel than his actual son.

FATHER OF THE YEAR !! #whatajoke

part 2 did robby keene incredibly dirty. part 3, is kinda looking promised.. i saw that clip of robby kicking axel in: inside the dojo on netflix 👀

please ck writers do this one thing and maybe robby keene win🙏

edit: miguel was not giving him tough love. HE WAS BEING AN ASSHOLE! get off miguel dick for ONCE and call out bad behaviour when you see it. if anything, miguel making him doubt if he deserves to be captain on top of kwon fucking with him AND him being unbalanced becasue of tory..

miguel might’ve just made shit WORSE. y’all it’s a full time job defending robby keene im telling you. im TIRED 😞😞