#I should the to make a tag for my stuff shouldn’t I

[hero-nerd]

WHAT ARE SOME THINGS ABOUT MONOMA YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO TALK ABOUT BUT NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO? GO FORTH, GIVE US THE MONOMA CITATIONS. RAMBLE.

- @veras-monologue

YES THANK YOU IM ALWAYS HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT MONOMA

I think the majority of my pre-established writing with citations for him has been posted already. Whether anyone read it or not is a different question lmao. And I never set up a tagging system so they are probably lost to the depths of tumblr anyway. So if you have any questions about those please ask!!

But today I’m gonna talk about something I only ever get to talk to about with one person, our ✨ballroom dancing au✨

So this started because me and my friend have a villain monoma au where he and toga are twins separated at birth that reunite when Mr Compress brings Monoma into the league. I’m like 87% sure I’ve posted about that but again I’m always happy to expand or make another post on it. The au is mostly slice of life things amongst the league with Compress trying to parent his chaos twins while Magne sips her drink and laughs at him from the background /lh.

From here I got really into this manga about ballroom dancing I randomly picked up at the library and I’m so fixated right now, so I messaged up that friend like hear me out, ballroom dancing au

Weve been establishing that au for a bit now, Monoma and toga are siblings still that dance together, Compress is their main coach but Magne is like an assistant as well. It’s super fun /gen

One thing I’ve been thinking about is that Monoma is a really selfless dance partner, always letting Toga really shine in the dance while tailoring his dance exactly to her. The manga series talked about this idea of the flower and the frame, with the lead dancer being the frame meant to emphasize the flower, aka the following dancer. Monoma really leans into this and does it to the point where you can barely see the frame, Toga isn’t just a flower she’s the whole damn garden.

I think this is where people would disagree with me saying that Monoma would want the spotlight, but this is also where I have citations!!!

Citation one is from the sports tournament, Monoma did not mind placing low in the beginning to win his strategy. Like he said, he wasn’t some idiot chasing after a carrot on a stick, he was thinking things through to win in the long run. Of course it didn’t work in that moment (something else I could go off about) but that mind set is still there!

And then citation two is from the joint training arc. Monoma knows he is going to get captured but lays the trap with twin impact anyway, allowing his team to win. He seems to have the mentality (not just here, but this is what I pulled for citation) that a win for his team is a win for him, regardless of whether he was the one to do the winning thing. My past analysis has emphasized that his unstable identity leads him to heavily put his identity into outside factors, specifically class b, so I think this stands.

Now this is not to say that he doesn’t want to be the center of attention, be in the spot light! He very much does, although I think his feelings on whether he deserves it or not / what that looks like are pretty complex. In the joint training arc he talks about being the side character that steals the show, more beloved than the main characters, and that’s how he sees himself. However even here he calls himself a side character.

Then of course there is his big moment recently animated in the show, which would change this analysis plenty. However, applying that to him in this moment is like applying season six bakugou moments to season one bakugou, that doesn’t work! There’s chat at after development that needs to be done. I actually have a scene that ties in that stuff to give Monoma some character development in the ballroom au but that’s for another post XD.

And then tagging @logicaldelta because 1 au and 2 I’m not sure I have been able to coherently express all this to you yet lmao

[avocadolaw]

Been sitting on this one for a little while. Not quite what I hoped for, but it’s grown on me! I made it back in June and pulled out on the 30th, so happy late pride!

[lumiilys]

What if I just rambled in the tags rn?

[howlonghaveyoubeenseventeen]

.

[dent-de-leon]

Kinda just want there to be a post or teaser saying who Tal’s gonna play in the reunion cause the anxiety is killing me ;;

[the-breloominati]

ignore the messy braeburn on the left I he’s my warm-up i guess. lol

anyway look at my boy!!!!!! the he!!!!!! committer of grand theft gender!!

[touringtanuki]

I meant to write a small response to this in the tags, but wrote a whole ass paragraph. I guess it’s still staying in the tags.

I really think everyone needs to truly internalize this:

Fictional characters are objects.

They are not people. You cannot "objectify" them, because they have no personhood to be deprived of. They have no humanity to be erased. You cannot "disrespect" them, because they are not real.

[cross-d-a]

Tales from My Bookstore:

*thump thump thump!!!*

Me: *turns around and sees a tiny girl no more than 2 feet tall carrying a picture book*

Girl’s mother: Honey, why are you running?

Little girl: I’m trying to read!

Girl’s mother: It’s not safe to run around here, baby. You might run into someone if you aren’t looking.

Little girl: I’m not- Well! It’s fine! I’m not running into anyone!

Girl’s mother: You haven’t run into anyone yet! *pauses* Why do you need to run to read?

Little girl: Because it’s HARD!!

[nereidprinc3ss]

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

-------------------------------

Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes. 

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening. 

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip. 

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed. 

“Why not?” 

“’Cause I want you to be awake.” 

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks. 

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment. 

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes. 

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. 

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling. 

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face.  “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair. 

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously. 

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone. 

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes. 

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss. 

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.  

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating. 

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily. 

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them. 

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch. 

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips. 

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills. 

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you. 

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already. 

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine. 

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin. 

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying. 

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom. 

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you. 

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off. 

Maybe even especially then. 

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth. 

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp. 

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic. 

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit. 

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more. 

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back. 

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon. 

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation. 

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense. 

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name. 

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.  

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system. 

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again. 

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin. 

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows. 

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts. 

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once. 

“Handles! Duh!”

[st4rryrain]

Strawberry Lip Gloss

(Logan Howlett x Reader)

Tags: fem!reader, age gap, ex-dancer!reader, probably ooc, worst!logan, post-deadpool x wolverine, some fluff if you squint, wade x vanessa

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Brought into a world so different yet so similar to his own, Logan can’t help but continue to keep himself guarded from emotional connection. That is until Wade and Vanessa introduce him to you.

A/N: First fanfic on here! First part of two and the next part is gonna be smut. Muehehe… Proofread but I probably missed stuff. Anyways, I hope I did a good job and you guys enjoy.

Logan didn’t like the idea of emotional connection. He hated knowing that one day, he would disappoint people. He hated knowing that if he got attached to someone, he could lose them and it was all for nothing. The impending doom that would wash over him whenever he had those small moments of happiness was overwhelming. Sometimes he’d wake up in a cold sweat, remembering his life before ending up in a new world. It haunted him like a restless ghost.

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to cut off your legs, bub.”

Logan and Wade were at a bar downtown. Logan hadn’t actually invited Wade, but he didn’t care whether or not he tagged along as long as he let him drink without making any insane remarks.

“What? I can’t ask you things?” Wade whined.

“Not when you ask about things that shouldn’t be asked. Ever.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

Wade scoffed, “Oh please. Asking about someone’s dick size is not something that should never be asked!”

Logan sighed. So much for giving Wade the benefit of the doubt.

Wade looked down at his phone. “Vanessa should be here soon. She said she’s 5 minutes away.”

Logan groaned. “You invited your girlfriend?”

“Yes, actually! I did invite my girlfriend.”

“If I could kill myself, I would.” Logan mumbled before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Hey! Vanessa is nice!”

“I’m not annoyed about that, dumbass. I’m annoyed that it means you two are probably going to get handsy in front of my whiskey and I.”

“Don’t worry, she’s bringing a friend for you to get handsy with, peanut.” Wade said while typing away on his phone.

Logan just sighed, unable to comprehend how he even puts up with Wade for a second.

After a few minutes, Vanessa and you walked into the bar. Vanessa gleamed with excitement as she embraced Wade. You simply stood behind her, awkwardly waiting for her to finish.

“Hi, Y/N!” Wade waved. “Long time no see. How’s my favorite original moody pookie bear?”

“Wade, last time I saw you, you almost got me killed. How do you think I’m doing?” You sounded incredibly annoyed and rightfully so.

“Well, nothing a few visits to a psychiatrist and a good trip to pound-town won’t fix!”

“Fuck you.”

“For a girl who looks like she sings to all the woodland creatures and picks cherries on a Sunday afternoon, you sure do have a lot of pent up violence in your body.”

Vanessa smiled as she found the interaction between her lover and you entertaining.

“Fuck, I forgot to introduce you to my new best bud here!” Wade excitedly said, “Y/N, this is Logan. Logan, this is Y/N. I think you guys would get along since you both hate me!” He was way more enthusiastic about it than he should be.

Logan and you met eyes. You gave a small smile. Logan didn’t seem very interested, only letting out a small hum.

Wade turned to Vanessa, “You wanna join me in the bathroom to make sure everything is following state laws?”

Vanessa smiled, “Of course.”

The two lovers scurried away, giddy as if they were teenagers.

You sat a seat away from Logan. “Every time…” You muttered.

Logan didn’t say anything. He faced forward and drank his whiskey. A few minutes passed, the air around you two awkward.

“I was told you’re from a different timeline.” You said, breaking the unbearable silence. “How are adjusting to this new world?”

Logan shrugged. “Fine.”

The silence returned. You sat there awkwardly, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Are you… a mutant?” You asked nervously.

“We don’t have to talk, you know? We can sit here and wait for the others to finish, bub.”

You looked down at the bar counter. “Sorry…”

Logan sighed, “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean for it to sound mean or anything.”

“Honestly, though… I get it. I’d be mean and angry all the time if I had to live with someone like Wade. Especially Wade.”

A small smile adorned Logan’s face. You smiled, feeling a sense of relief that you had lightened the mood.

“I’m convinced that he was dropped as a baby… multiple times.”

Logan chuckled. “He must keep getting dropped everyday if he’s this fucking annoying.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“How come you let Vanessa drag you here? It doesn’t seem like you want to be here.”

You thought for a moment.

“I think I just wanted something to distract me since I’ve been feeling shitty.” You shifted in your seat. “I got broken up with like half a year ago.”

“You’re still hung up on someone from half a year ago?” Logan raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I mean, I really liked the guy. We dated for a year and a half but things started falling apart when I wanted him to get more serious. I was putting my all into the relationship but he didn’t seem to want the same thing I did.”

“You look young, kid. How old are you?”

“I’m 24.”

“Guys your age are assholes. Those shitheads are like dogs. All they do is eat, shit, sleep, and go into heat.” He grumbled.

“Oh, trust me. I know.” You sighed. “I fucking hate dating guys my age. They always end up being immature and leave me with at least 10 different traumatic experiences.”

Silence once again fell upon you two.

“Holy fuck, those bastards are taking forever.” Logan said.

“Trust me, sometimes they’re gone for hours.”

“How’d you meet Vanessa?”

You blushed. You had started being a dancer at the tender age of 19. Freshly kicked out of your house, you felt like there was no other way. Luckily, you met Vanessa. An older sister figure who took care of you and even let you live with her for some time before you got up on your own two feet. You weren’t necessarily embarrassed about having been a dancer, you were more so annoyed by the constant comments that you “didn’t seem like the type”.

“I…” You toyed with your sleeves, “I met her when we were dancers at the same place. She took care of me and was there whenever I needed her.”

Logan hummed. “Cute.”

“Every time I tell people I used to be a dancer, I get told I don’t seem like the type. I don’t even know what they mean.”

Logan watches and listened to you ramble as you continued on about different things people have said over the years.

“Someone once told me I was too pretty to be a dancer! Like what kind of backhanded compliment is that?” You crossed your arms and rested them on the counter. “Fuck, I dunno.”

“You seem like a sweet girl, bub. I know a lot of dancers don’t do it because they wanted to, but because they needed the money. Was that the case?”

You nodded.

“Did you at least enjoy being one?”

“Fuck no. I hated all those people staring at me the way a hawk circles a critter. The things they’d say, do, and who knows what they thought.”

“I think you’re too sweet to be a dancer. Not saying you don’t or do seem like the type, but more so you didn’t deserve to do something you didn’t enjoy.”

You looked at Logan. He seemed sincere and understanding. A small smile formed on your lips.

“Thanks, Logan. Congrats on being the first outside person to not blame me.”

“Did you guys kiss yet?” A familiar voice asked as it got closer.

You and Logan turned, spotting Wade and Vanessa.

“Holy shit, did you guys survive a fucking bomb or something?” Logan noted how messy Vanessa’s hair was and how disheveled their clothes were.

“Oh we survived a fucking bomb, alright.” Wade smiled. “But seriously, have you two kissed yet?”

“Wade, don’t make me curb stomp you again.” You glared.

Logan turned to you. “You’ve curb stomped him before?”

“Oh yeah. Girl’s got some insane skills.” Vanessa laughed, finding the memory funny.

“You guys ready to go or should we let you guys use the bathroom too?” Wade wiggled his brows.

“I hope the dog shits on your bed.” Logan frowned.

The group exited the bar and parted ways for the time being. Wade continued prying Logan on what he thought of you. He would go on and on about his favorite memories with you like the many times you third wheeled for Vanessa and him, the time you got a new car and crashed it the following week, and the time you curb stomped him for one of the many times he almost got you killed.

Logan and you would frequently cross paths at Wade or Vanessa’s parties or while waiting for Wade and Vanessa to finish having sex somewhere like a restaurant or even the apartment bathroom.

To Logan’s dismay, he had grown very fond of you. You were sweet, smart, pretty, and weren’t afraid to speak your mind, especially when it came to Wade’s stupidity. Sometimes, he’d catch himself staring or hoping to see you or feeling a disgustingly fuzzy feeling in his chest at the thought of you. Wade and Vanessa could tell Logan and you had feelings for each other. The way you looked at each other and enjoyed each other’s company was endearing.

“I dunno how they can go on for so long.” You groaned as you and Logan stood outside in the hallway of the apartment.

“Surprised Al hasn’t kicked Wade out for it.” Logan leaned against the wall.

“Oh she’s tried.” You held Mary Puppins in your arms, not wanting her to bear witness to the sinful behavior taking place indoors.

Logan smiled, placing a hand on the dog’s head for a quick pet.

“Are you seeing anyone, Logan?”

Logan pauses. He stares off into the distance for a moment, contemplating whether or not to avoid the question.

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

An almost deafening silence encapsulates you both.

“Do you want to love someone?” You asked as you held and lightly squished the dog’s paw.

Logan months ago would have said no. Hell, he would have said never. But Logan felt his attachment to you getting the better of him.

“Love isn’t for me, bub. I don’t think I can handle losing someone anymore.”

“Well that’s why you have to find someone who can’t handle losing you either.”

Logan and you looked to each other. You were staring up at him like you were waiting for something.

“You’re the sweetest little thing I’ve met, Y/N.” Logan leaned in a little.

“Only to people I love having around.”

“You deserve someone who will love you and take care of you. Someone who will worship the ground you walk on.”

You smiled shyly.

“A pretty little thing like you needs to be told everyday how perfect you are.”

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stroke my ego?” You joked.

“Can I, sweetheart?” Logan asked, his face inches away.

“Mhm.” You hummed as you leaned upward.

Logan pressed his lips against yours. Your lips were soft and almost addictive. Strawberry flavor peppered along them. You smelled of a delicate perfume and a pleasantly scented shampoo he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Logan cupped your cheek with a cold calloused hand, bringing you closer to his face.

“You do this with all the girls you sweet talk?” You mumbled into the kiss.

“Only the sweet ones named Y/N that I’m fond of.” Logan brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “I’ve only ever been fond of one sweet Y/N.”

You smiled as you parted lips. You’re a little winded from how eagerly he kissed you. It had been like a starving man finding a buffet.

“I’d really like to take you out, sweetheart.” Logan said. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Of course, Lo.”

The door to Wade’s apartment opened and he peeked into the hallway.

“Did you guys kiss yet?”

“Wade, go back inside before I turn your small intestine into a jump rope.” You snapped.

Wade smiled, “Oh you guys totally did.” He went back inside and closed the door, loudly informing Vanessa of his assumption.

“Can’t believe Mary Puppins was the witness to a real life rom-com.” You joked as you cradled the dog.

“More like a horror movie with Wade’s ugly fucking face.”

You, Logan, and Mary Puppins went back inside. You were immediately greeted with Vanessa and Wade smiling like crazy.

“What?” Logan asked.

“You guys kissed.” Wade replied.

“What?” Logan didn’t understand how Wade came to the conclusion. Sure he was right but how did he know?

“Oh don’t play coy with me, peanut. I see that lip gloss on you. You have never worn lip gloss and I doubt you ever will. You’re too afraid to ever serve cunt.”

You set down the dog and turned to Logan.

“Yeah… You do have some of my lip gloss. Sorry, Lo.” You said sheepishly, realizing you left evidence at the crime scene.

Vanessa giggled. “So you admit it!”

“Fucking finally. We didn’t know if you guys would end up even liking each other in that way. This took a lot of planning and a lot of coordination. Better than cupid.” Wade sounded proud of himself.

“You planned this?” Logan asked.

“Well, both of you seemed to want to love and be loved. You also had a common enemy of that being Wade. So Wade and I thought you two might be a good match.” Vanessa explained it with a huge smile that yelled ‘proud mother’.

“Whenever we left you two alone, he hoped you guys would do something. Anything!” Wade recalled.

“You guys weren’t leaving to have sex? You just hoped we’d flirt?” You asked, a little agitated for having to wait for them all those times.

“No. Most of the time, we actually did bang in a bathroom or car.”

“You guys are lucky your little scheme worked.” You crossed your arms and huffed.

“So when’s the wedding?”

“Wade!”

Logan took you out to a quaint little restaurant somewhere on the other side of the city. He paid for the meal despite you insisting you split the bill. He would hold your hand as you entered and exited the car as well as opening and closing the door. To say Logan was infatuated was a complete understatement.

“I don’t want to go back to that apartment with that annoying prick.” Logan complained as you sat in his car in the middle of an empty parking lot.

“We could go to my place.” You gave an alternative, hoping he would say yes.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah! Just don’t mind my cat and you’re all good.”

“You have a cat?”

“Her name is Egg. She’s round like one.”

You and Logan drove to your small apartment in a small apartment building. The walls weren’t crumbling and the stairs weren’t on the verge of falling apart. Compared to Wade’s apartment building, this was luxurious.

“I’m home, Egg!” You greeted your feline as you walked through the door.

“Lock the door behind you, please.” You said as you set your things down.

Logan felt giant in your small apartment. It wasn’t that the ceiling was low or anything. He just felt so out of place in a cozy place where there were a few plants here and there, clean counters, and comfy furniture.

“This is Egg.” You picked up a white chubby feline with blue eyes. “She loves to sleep and is currently on a diet ‘cause the vet said she should stop being an egg.”

Logan smiled at her and reached his hand out to pet the cat. The cat seemed to just stare and move her head away from his hand.

“She’s not aggressive. She’s something worse… Judgmental.” You always found Egg’s reaction to people who weren’t you amusing.

You held one of Egg’s paws and playfully waved it, pretending that the cat was waving at Logan. You set the cat down and watched as she strutted away.

“Your cat has an attitude.”

You laughed, “She invented attitude. You should see her with Wade. Even she doesn’t like him to the point she tries clawing his face off.”

If staring was a competition, Logan would hold the world record for most staring at someone with heart eyes. Literally. His eyes were practically the shape of hearts.

“What? Is something on my face? Did I say something?” You asked, worried you may have embarrassed yourself in front of Logan.

Logan leaned down and kissed your lips. “Do you always have strawberry lip gloss on your lips?”

“I dunno, how about you find out and kiss me every time you see me.”

Logan seemed to really like the strawberry lip gloss you wore and almost started to devour your face. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you closer. He was starting to let his hands wander.

“Not in front of my child.” You protested. “She’s 3! Not even old enough to start kindergarten.”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss. “Alright, doll.”

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (but it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

AN: smut in this chapter!! p in v sex, fingering, creampie, trueform sukuna still but it's pretty tame. lemme know if i forgot anything

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

Revisit rule: "Develop a Commanding Voice"?

When seated at the dining table your mind was too full to eat. Not only did Sukuna’s lustful words bounce around in your head, but a sensible, more pressing thought pushed itself to the forefront. 

The book that Sukuna came from was no longer lost. 

You shifted in your seat. Uraume looked at you with a slight frown. 

“Is the food not to your liking, ma’am?”

“No. I mean, the food is fine, Uraume, that’s not really the problem,” you sighed. “And why are you standing over there? Where’s your plate?”

“They don’t eat in front of us,” Sukuna answered for Uraume. 

“At least sit down. There’s no reason for you to stand over there.” 

“I have other chores I must attend to,” they politely declined with a bow. 

“Wait. I wanted to ask you something. Well, the both of you,” you said with a hint of gloominess that Sukuna picked up on immediately. Uraume carefully sat down at the chair in front of you and you twisted your hands in your lap as you voiced what was troubling your mind. 

“Now that we have the cursed book back… what now? What is the end goal?”

You held your tongue back from asking the main question you had on your mind. 

Are you going to leave me?

You’ve known him for a week at most. You shouldn’t be so worried if he went back to where he belongs. You could go back to life as it was with you, Cleo, and your totally normal, mundane, sans demonic partner life. That was what you were trying to make yourself believe, but the thought of Sukuna no longer being around anymore tightens your chest more than you’d care to admit. 

“Uraume informed me of the bind that was put on me. It is rather simple. It can only be done by the one who is my soulmate, but when broken I will become human. Mortal body without powers.”

“You’ll be like me?” You looked at Uraume and they nodded slowly as an answer. “How about you Uraume? What will happen to you if this bind is broken?”

“I will also become mortal.”

“Do you want that?” You asked quietly. “Would you mind being human?”

“I cannot leave you to fend for yourself.”

You bristled at his words. “I’ve been doing just fine without you.”

“Of course you have. You wouldn’t be my wife if you couldn’t,” he grinned. You lost your despondent tone at the slight mention of you lacking anything. He lived to rile you up in harmless ways. If it diverted your attention away from whatever troubled your heart he’d gladly take your sharp words with a smile. 

“You should make the decision on your own. Don’t let me influence you,” you huffed out. 

“I do as I please and I am staying here,” Sukuna shrugged. Cleo emerged from her hiding spot to climb in his lap and he gently caressed your ragdoll cat with a content look. “I can’t open my domain and I do not sense anyone with cursed energy. Times have truly changed.” 

“I’m happy to hear that,” you muttered. It was hard to hide the relief that flooded your veins. You brushed your feet on the side of Sukuna’s leg under the table. It was supposed to be a tender gesture, but it made his eyes darken and he handed Cleo over to Uraume. 

“Get out,” he ordered. Sukuna’s eyes never left yours as Uraume disappeared with your cat tucked under their arm. 

“I didn’t finish my food,” you started. 

“You never wanted to eat. Come here.” 

Sukuna grabbed one of the legs of your chair and dragged you to his side. The wood screeched to a halt when he could no longer bring you any closer, so his hands found your waist to hoist you on the table. You were barely able to shove his plate of untouched food out of the way before you could sit on it. 

“Really? On the table?”

“We can do the floor instead,” he offered, his lips already finding the pulse in your neck. Your fingers carded through the short hair on his nape, holding him closer. Soft moans fell out of your mouth that Sukuna covered with a salacious kiss. You parted your legs wider to cage him in, and his sets of hands found tasks to do. Shirt, pants, and panties were torn off your body, leaving nothing hidden from Sukuna. 

You were on display for him, fully undressed and dripping to the touch. He hunched over you, sucking and biting your lips, his hands trailing all over your body. You arched your back off of the table, your arousal building in your lower stomach. The tips of Sukuna’s nails scraped up your thighs, reaching for the apex of your thighs, and you briefly broke the kiss to complain. 

“Your nails are too long. They can’t go inside.” 

“You have never complained before.” 

You cocked your eyebrow up. “Times have changed.” Hearing his own words echoed back at him prompted Sukuna to bite your shoulder. It was harmless, not enough to break any skin, but enough to wipe the smug smile off of your face with a shaky hiss. He focused the pad of his thumb on your swollen clit, circling the sensitive nerves with the type of precision to show that he has done this before. You gasped, clawing his arms with curses falling from your lips. Tears welled in your eyes and threatened to decorate the bottom half of your face. Despite your attempts to wiggle out of his arms, Sukuna made sure you took all that he was giving to you. 

“Fuck me already,” you gritted out. 

Sukuna looked up at you with your hardened nipple in his mouth. He pulled back his lips on the bud, leaving his sharp teeth encircling the bud, an action that sent shivers down your spine. “I will break you if you rush me,” he said in a low warning tone. 

His voice was husky with arousal. You held your bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it in a pout, still writhing under his touch. With as much energy as you could muster you cupped his face with both hands to bring him to your lips to lock them in an embrace. You released his face to scrape your nails down his broad chest, his abdomen, then held his hardening length.  

“Come on, Sukuna,” you purred in a saccharine voice. His cock was hot, heavy, and much larger than anything you had ever held but it only excited you. You stroked and kissed his tightening jaw, licked the vein that was prominent on his neck and watched him close his eyes for a moment . “Haven’t you waited long enough?”

It was admirable of you to want to climax at the same time, but it was not possible at all. Sukuna knew that you could not take him just yet, and put all his effort in making you come first. You fell apart at the seams, shaking in his arms. Sukuna watched carefully as you murmured his name over and over again through clenched teeth. He brought his drenched fingers up to his mouth to lick clean while tremors ran through your body. He barely gave you a break, moving back to the chair with you sitting on his lap, and his eyes swimming with lust. 

“You talked as if you knew what you wanted, so take it.” 

His length stood up straight, the tip leaky with pre-cum. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. You grabbed his cock with a firm grip, pumping it slowly while thumbing the slit. Hands, hands, and more hands, found the small of your waist, your lower back, cupped your ass as you positioned yourself over the head of his cock to steady you, guide you. 

“It wouldn’t kill you to be a little more romantic, would it?” 

You whispered it in his mouth, not really expecting an answer. With your hands on his shoulders you slowly took inch after inch of his length, aided with your essence from your first orgasm running down your thighs to help you take in his girth, but it still wasn’t enough. The tears that you were barely able to hold back the first time stained your face, clumping your lashes together in tiny little spikes as you blinked them away. 

“And how would I do that?” Sukuna asked. He caught a tear with his thumb and brought the salty liquid to his tongue. “Be more romantic?” You sucked in a shaky breath to say, “K-kiss me?”

The trembling of your voice directed all the blood in Sukuna’s body to his cock, making him swell in size. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open. They were screwed shut as you focused on breathing. 

“Say that again,” Sukuna ordered. 

“I want you to kiss me,” you begged. It was just as good as hearing it the first time. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders. You bit your bottom lip harshly, swallowing more of his length just to see that you were still only halfway down when you opened your eyes. Sukuna chuckeld darkly when you let out a frustrated groan.

“Dammit Sukuna, kiss me already.”

And kiss you he did. Your head spun with his ardent dominance. Sukuna’s lips covered yours like he was trying to eat you alive. He lifted you up, laying you flat on the table, and fitted himself inside of you at a better angle than when you were on top, an angle that blurred your vision because it perfectly pressed where you needed the most. You clawed at his back with each of his thrusts. His hips snapped against you, each stroke nudging your clit and chipping away at your sanity. The table creaked wearily below you from the weight of your bodies. 

Sukuna growled in your ear, his own release closing in on him. You tied your legs around his waist as best you could, not wanting to separate before the best part. 

“You are mine,” he stated. It was a fact like how the sky was blue. You hastily nodded, too overcome with emotion to answer vocally. He knew your voice would fail you but still Sukuna pushed for your response by grasping your chin.

“Y-yours. I’m yours,” you gasped. As soon as those words were uttered you fell off the precipice of passion Sukuna carried you up to. You fell apart at the seams, sobbing in his arms as you came undone, and Sukuna closely chased his high behind you until you felt his warmth fill your insides. An exchange of heavy pants filled the air until yours finally leveled out. Sukuna gathered you up in his arms, carrying your limp body to sit on top of him in the dining chair once again. His chest made a perfect pillow for you to rest your head while you waited for your heart rate to slow down. You winced when you shifted in his lap, the beginning effects of your coupling settling in your bones. Sukuan’s hands rubbed soothing lines down your back. 

“You almost fucked me through the table. That’s a first,” you chuckled. 

Sukuna snorted. “You made me wait long before consummating our marriage.”

“What an unholy matrimony,” you yawned. You felt heavy like your bones doubled in density and your eyes couldn't hold themselves open for much longer. Sukuna peered down at you. 

“You finally made peace with the fact. What made you change your mind?”

“Sukuna, we’re butt naked in my dining room and you’re still inside of me. I think I should just be honest with myself for once in my life, no matter how absurd this is. Plus, you’re not all that bad to have around.”

A wave of embarrassment  crashed on your head when you heard your words out loud. “Oh god. I have to wipe down this place with bleach. And Uraume! They probably heard us,” you groaned. 

“It is nothing they haven’t heard before. We used to be worse,” Sukuna smirked. 

Horror filled your eyes. “Worse?!”

Sukuna lifted you up and began to make way towards your bedroom. Every footstep sent shocks of pleasure to your core as he didn’t bother to remove himself from your thighs. He carefully managed to lay you in bed, your body flush on his chest. “Days at a time we would spend locked away. Uraume was the only one allowed near to bring food and water.” 

“Unbelievable,” you scoffed. “So what, you mean to tell me you can go again?”

“How did you say it earlier? I could fuck you through this tiny bed of yours,” he said in a low tone.

Your ears flashed hot at his words. You covered his face with your hands and pushed him away. Of all the more modern sayings he could have picked up, that one just had to be his first. 

“Not so fast, big guy. I still got work in the morning.”

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[candy-cloud-system]

Tw: syscourse ,

Endos DNI with this post.

Hot take; I shouldn’t have to be terrified to read / like posts. I should have to read the tags to make sure it’s not posted by an endo trying to infiltrate our spaces. I shouldn’t have to fear that the thing I’m gonna read is going to send me into a spiral because it’s gonna be some stupid ass shit about how “traumagenic systems are losers” or whatever the other stuff endos say about us is.

WE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO HAVE AN ALTER WHO SITS OVER MY SHOULDER EVERY TIME I OPEN THIS APP THAT CAN PULL ME AWAY INCASE SOMETHING GETS BAD.

THAT SHOULD NOT BE A THING I, A TRAUMATIZED SYSTEM, SHOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH WHEN LOOKING FOR COMFORT OR SILLY CONTENT TO CHEER ME UP REGARDING THE TRAUMA FORMED DISORDER THAT WILL FOREVER MAKE MY LIFE DIFFICULT.

“Endos don’t hurt anyone🥺🥺🥺”

yes they fucking do.

- Sharkbite

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

[elizabethemerald]

Don't Sneak up on People with Swords

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2 made a prompt about Danny sneaking up on Jason Todd and @sky00asara made a comment in the tags about what would happen if Danny did that to Talia. So here is my version of that! Enjoy.

Talia al Ghul watched her beloved from afar. He was out, again patrolling his city for those he considered wrong doers. Her son was by his side. She scowled at how Damian’s fighting style had changed, softened in the company of her beloved. Despite her love for the man under the cowl, he had a tremendous ability to take even the most ruthless of killers and change them to spare the undeserving. He had even tried it with her. 

She was hidden on the roof of an abandoned tower nearby. The tower had succumbed to fire and was now condemned until the city got around to destroying it properly. For now it made the perfect place for her to observe her beloved and her son work undisturbed. 

“Excuse me?” 

Talia whirled, drawing her blade as she spun. Her blade moved fast enough to almost cut the air itself yet the small shape ducked under her stroke and back-pedaled quickly to move out her range. 

“Jeez! Why is everyone in this city so jumpy!” 

The voice more than anything made her realize that the person who had somehow snuck close enough was an actual child. Their black hair and blue eyes made her wonder if this was another of her beloved’s adoptees. Except surely this boy was too young to catch Bruce’s eye? 

“Well maybe you should not sneak up on people?” Talia hissed, her voice soft yet stern. To say nothing of how a child who couldn’t be older than five had snuck up on her at all. 

“Well maybe you shouldn’t brood on the roof of my home!” The child snarked back, just like one of the Bat’s brood would, completely unafraid of the blade still in her hand. Talia raised an eyebrow at him then looked around at the burnt skeleton of the building they were standing on. 

“This building is not fit for human occupation.”

“Neither was the last place I lived.” He said dismissively. “This place hasn’t even killed me yet, so it’s practically a paradise.” 

She was tempted to take the child’s words as sarcasm, yet something in the way he spoke made her think he meant it more truthfully. 

“You’ve died before?” Talia asked. She relaxed her hold on her blade, allowing it to rest at her side. 

“Oh yeah, I die all the time.” He said, then he looked at her curiously tilting his head first one way, then another. “You’ve died too, huh?” 

She nodded, now examining him closely, looking for the signs she would recognize. She could see the hint of a scar on the boy’s palm that might have caused a death. 

“What is it with this town that so many people have died and come back?” The boy asked, apparently rhetorically as he didn’t let her answer. “First the stabby Robin, then the stabby Batgirl, then Batman, and even Red Hood. It’s like everyone I run into is contaminated.” 

Talia’s eyes widened. 

“You can sense those who have utilized the Lazarus Pits?” She would have to inform her father about this child. He could put the entire League of Assassins at risk. The child before her just shrugged. 

“I have no idea what that is. Red Hood mentioned some kind of pit as well, but I’ve never seen anything like that. I just know y’all are contaminated with ectoplasm, though not enough to make a core.” 

“What is this… ectoplasm?” Another name for the Lazarus Waters? Had there perhaps been a Pit outside of League control? In the midwest somewhere based on the boy’s accent. 

“Oh it’s this stuff.” He held his hand out and Talia couldn’t help keep her expression of shock withdrawn despite all her training as his hand filled with the glowing green light of the Pits. He held the Pit Water in his hand then tossed the glowing orb to his other hand in a half juggle as if he weren’t carrying the League's greatest secret and weapon. 

Nevermind telling her father about this child, he could never learn of him. If Ras had the power this child had under his control the world would never survive. There was only one option. She needed to train this child to wield this strength. With the stealth he displayed in sneaking up on her and his power over the Pits themselves he could make an assassin like the world had never seen. He could be the next Head of the Demon under her guidance. She knelt down to the boy’s level, slipping her sword back away as she did so. 

“Tell me, young one. Are you living in this death trap of a building all by yourself?” 

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ve got it taken care of. I know I’m little, but that just means people are less likely to notice me. I’m able to steal all the food I need from that big box store down the street.” 

“Oh of that I have no doubt. My name is Talia al Ghul. What’s yours?” 

“Hmm. I’m Danny.” The boy seemed hesitant to trust her, which to be perfectly honest was probably a very smart thing to do, but at least she had a name for this gift of Lazarus. 

“Danny, how would you like to come live with me? You won’t have to steal any more, or worry about food ever again, and I could train you how to fight even better than the Bats.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking her over closely. 

“Would I get a sword?” 

“If a sword is what you want, then once you were trained in its use I would acquire one for you.”

Danny looked like he was about to nod, but then he froze, his head tilting to the side as if he was listening to something. His eyes widened and Talia tensed. 

“Uh-oh. Fruit Loop incoming. I gotta go.” 

Talia half turned as she heard the sound of one of her beloved’s grappling lines catching on the building’s edge. By the time she had turned back to face him, Danny had completely vanished. She hadn’t even heard him leave. She stood and scowled as her beloved landed on the rooftop next to her. 

“Talia.” He grunted at her, glaring all the while. 

“Beloved. Must you ruin every nice thing in my life?” Talia snarled back. The boy, Danny, had the gift of Lazarus at his beck and call and Batman had scared him off. 

Bruce looked momentarily stunned at her fury, but quickly hid it behind his mask. However Talia couldn’t care less about her beloved right now. She just needed to lose him so she could return to find the boy. The boy who would change the world with his power. 

[revelboo]

I love your writing and I love that you’re having fun with it even more! It baffles me how good you are with coming up with different dynamics for each of your storylines and they all work so well. My favorite has to be tfp megs. Maybe it’s a guilty pleasure but something about the fake hating or the taboo codependency really scratches a specific itch on my brain.

I know it’s a very satisfying dynamic to write. This one is a bit earlier than I’d planned, but I wanted to get it down while it was in my head.

And you guys crack me up sometimes. I’ve seen one of y’all call Optimus ‘Pee Paw’ in reblog tags and now TFP Megs is ‘Space Crack Grandpa.’

Broken Arrow Pt 9

TFP Megatron x Reader

• You’re frozen against him, body arching into his where his denta are gripping you. He’s shocked you so badly you don’t know how to respond apparently. There’s a faint unease at your stillness, that maybe he finally pushed a bit too hard. It’s only when he bites just a tiny bit harder that you snap out of it and smack a palm against the side of his helm. “Get off, you jerk. Who bites someone?” And there’s the anger he enjoys so much. Laughing again as you try to shove his head away and he lets you, aware of your soft, warm hands gripping his helm, your face red and furious.

• And he’s laughing again, so messed up he finds your frustration hilarious as you keep your grip on his helm to keep him from trying to bite you again. That bare prick of his denta on you had broken through the shock of the not entirely unpleasant feel of that bite. “You shouldn’t do that crap,” you mutter, trying to maintain that frustrated anger, but worry creeping in to your tone. “At this rate, the Autobots won’t have to do anything. You’re so messed up, you’ll probably fall out of the ship and do it for them.”

• Those hands are unbelievably soft on him, fingers gripping his helm to try and keep his face out of biting range as you scowl up at him. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” he asks, grinning as he catches one of your wrists and feels you immediately try to tug loose as he considers nipping those little fingers. Wanting to just because he can, just to feel you shudder against him again.

• Trying to get your hand back, you plant the other one in the center of his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself,”you mutter. “I’d shove you myself if I could.” He’s not letting go, but there’s a new, calculating gleam in his optics that makes your skin prickle all over. Because on that stuff? There’s no telling where his processor just went or what he might do. Like rasp the claws of his other hand down his chest, those armor panels shifting to reveal something pulsing with light, something alive that pulls at you and you realize it’s his bare spark. ‘That’s how you end a Cybertronian,’ his words come back to you and you suddenly want loose. Want him to close those panels up, because seeing this is uncomfortably intimate. “Cut it out.”

• “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, pet?” Servos tightening on your wrist to force your hand closer to his spark, you suck in a sharp breath and try to lean away, eyes widening in alarm. “Don’t you still want to end me?” Knows he should stop, let go. Because you’re not playing along, there’s something very much like real panic in your eyes as you struggle against him, then shudder violently when his spark reacts. Reaching out a tendril of energy to meet your shaking fingers and now he’s frozen.

• Warmth spins through you at that contact, you can feel him as those tendrils of spark energy curl about your fingers. And you’re not fighting to get away anymore, you’re surrendering to that feeling of falling into him like plunging into deep, still waters that are churning violently just under the surface. Fractured sensations and memories spin you about, too chaotic and alive for you make any sense of. Just knowing that this is him, all of him. Drowning in him, feeling your heart struggling, missing beats. Hurting.

• That contact runs electric through him until he’s jerking you closer to strengthen it without even thinking. He’d only meant to make you angry, to provoke you, but as awareness washes over him in a warm fall like summer rain, he’s suddenly painfully sober. You’re only a human, but he can sense something there that’s not a spark, but close. Something even more achingly fragile than you are as your head falls forward against his shoulder and he can’t move even though he needs to break that contact, shove you away to save himself. You’re just a sparkless organic. And what he feels isn’t a spark, but something that might as well be one entangling with him, slipping soft as a sigh through him as his servos tighten against you. Realizing just how bad a mistake he’d just made.

Previous

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[monzabee]

two sides of the same coin - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one. 

Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

2018 

“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”

“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”

You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad. 

“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.” 

“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you. 

He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.” 

“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look. 

You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  “No one asked you,” under your breath. 

“Play nice, Max Emilian.��� Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?” 

“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.” 

“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”

“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.” 

He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”

“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and  giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”

“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”

You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!” 

“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”

“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.” 

“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!” 

Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?” 

2019

It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race. 

So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother. 

Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice. 

You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different. 

2020

Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode. 

It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum. 

“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.” 

You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble. 

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”

“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.” 

And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.” 

“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.” 

“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice. 

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite. 

2021 

Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms. 

Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine. 

There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day. 

An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”

You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up. 

You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide. 

“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection. 

“Maybe I should.” 

“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask. 

His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”

“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?” 

“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose. 

“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”

“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity. 

“Female intuition.” 

He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.” 

He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.

2022

Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.

You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves. 

The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear. 

“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.” 

Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”

There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.” 

You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door. 

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio. 

You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max. 

“Marry me, liefje.” He says. 

You nod your head, “Yes.” 

He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine. 

2023

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.�� 

“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”

“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you. 

You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.” 

“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle. 

“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.” 

“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs. 

“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.” 

“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”