#I'm currently procrastinating finals

[spaceoutdreamer]

Pro-tip for my depressed kins, stay dehydrated ! That way no one will know you've been crying yourself to sleep for the past 3 days !

[quemirabobo]

My godmother always tells me that I would be an excellent librarian because I love to share my books but I always know to whom and which book, even after years

[amphiptere]

started a ballad of songbirds and snakes!

[salemlunaa]

"OH WELL, IM NOT GONNA BE HERE FOR LONG, IM GONNA SHIFT ANYWAY" girl...

let's break down why this mindset, although very common, isn't super healthy...

I saw a post earlier where op talks about how they are un phased about all the bad things happening to them because they "won't be here for much longer”, which is so real and it honestly made me laugh so hard but, i must admit, this way of thinking can also have an unhealthy side.

I, personally, have also been victim to this mindset, and honestly i can tell you nothing good comes from thinking like this. You experience something bad, hurtful, embarrassing, slightly traumatic (which, bear in mind, you wouldn't have experienced if you hadn't procrastinated and tapped in to the void) and you tell yourself "it's okay, i'm not here for long anyway", you abandon responsibilities (that, again, wouldn't be your responsibility if you would ve stayed disciplined and tapped in) and you tell yourself "it's fine, i'm gonna shift anyway" "i'm probably gonna get into the void tonight so it doesn't matter"

NO NO and NO

of course it's good to have the mindset of knowing, knowing that it's your last day here and knowing that the void is the only outcome for you, because that type of thinking is what allows you to shift consciousness and tap in to the void, but a lot of you say that shit without even properly applying your knowledge, a lot of you are gonna remain sounding like broken records, repeating this shit for years, i swear it will be 2028 and yall will still be saying "it's okay i won't be here for long", "im gonna shift anyway"

don't wait for shit to hit the fan for you to get serious about your desires, don't wait for your circumstances to get horrible for you to finally fix up and actually do something. If you really knew you were a god, you wouldn't be here reading this, you would be as pretty as you wanna be, and as rich and happy as you wanna be enjoying your dream life. Don't fall into a comfortable routine with your current reality, (which is really just your old story) because it's not worth it. I even see you guys making and scripting for a "better current reality" (another excuse to remain comfortable with procrastination), when you could have your DREAM life, you guys get swept up in your old story, just because it can be "alright" sometimes. And then when something bad happens, you repeat the same phrase "oh well, i'm gonna shift anyway", and then when things go back to being "alright", you get comfortable again, further procrastinating, when you could have ANYTHING. Who cares about your "alright", "mediocre" reality when you could have the best and more!!

like girl, don't stay comfortable until you're forced to get uncomfortable with a negative change in circumstances. You should be determined to shift consciousness ALL THE TIME, not just when things get tough or responsibilities pile up. Because again, if you had that consistent mindset you wouldn't be here.

get uncomfortable with what you have to achieve what you want, so that all you want becomes all you have

GET UNCOMFORTABLE NOW SO YOU CAN LIVE COMFORTABLY FOR ETERNITY, DONT WAIT FOR SHIT TO HIT THE FAN ᥫ᭡💋

[elicathebunny]

FINALLY CLOSING THE GAP BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR HIGHEST SELF IN 2024.

You are going to STOP scrolling endlessly for self-help and advice content and you are going to STOP and apply the knowledge you have endlessly gained. Obtaining help and advice knowledge is useless if it goes through one ear and comes straight out the other. STOP becoming addicted to the idea of scrolling and scrolling for your problems yet you already have the resources to fix them. A fool is a person who cannot decide to take action despite having access to the information needed to do so.

BREAKING FREE FROM THE SCROLLING CYCLE

Learning and Applying is one thing, but Learning and Staying Stationary is literally brain rot. You're addicted to the idea of change and the end result, but you never take the steps towards discipline with a personal structure to get that result. You keep looking for quick fixes and easy hacks, but life is not a quick fix and no hack can elevate your life from 0% to 100% without visiting the rest of the numbers first.

TAKE A BREAK FROM SCROLLING

Take time away from your usual scrolling and learn to be on your own. Learn your own ways of self-care, learn what works for you and understand what you need, because nobody is the same. Following a millionaire's morning routine will not make you a millionaire. This routine has worked for someone to feel and be productive in the morning and was probably curated over the years to suit their current lifestyle. So, seeing other people's successes and comparing their working ways to your life is unrealistic if you are not in a position to implement them. Going straight from 0% (Being unproductive and procrastinating) to 100% (Being incredibly Productive and in tune with self) will not be sustainable for someone who has not built the discipline and the inner foundations required for it. STOP seeing information online and taking it without ALTERING anything to your personal situation.

STOP ASKING HOW TO AND JUST DO

"How to lose weight, How to become more social, How to do this and that"

Most of these things you ALREADY know the answer to. Everybody knows that to lose weight, you need to burn more than you consume. There is literally no other way, no magic and no secret hack, just that simple fact. I guarantee you know that to become more social you just have to be social. Learn to be comfortable in social situations which will require inner work, but it's not a difficult concept. Most of us know what we need to do, yet we still try to find quick fixes or another way that same message is presented to us differently. We act as if we are improving and developing on our "improvement" journey yet we are just finding coping ways to feel like we are moving, yet we are still in the exact same place as before. I know you know what to do, I know you have researched what you should do and ways you can do it. So why are you not doing it? Why are you still not where you want to be? If you are not where you want to be, then what you're currently doing needs to change. You cannot do the exact same thing you've been doing for years and expect a different outcome. You need to curate a routine suited to your needs that is realistic and achievable to adopt.

LEARNING TO MOVE ON YOUR OWN, STOP DEPENDING ON OTHERS TO FUEL YOUR SUCCESS JOURNEY LISTEN TO: NOBODY IS COMING TO SAVE YOU BY JULIENHIMSELF Make yourself your safe space, your foundation. When you see yourself in the mirror you should be able to tell yourself "I love you", you should be so sure in what you do that nobody else can contradict what you believe in yourself, this is the end goal of self-improvement. Many of us have put aside our goals because we "are not ready", "people may judge us" or "I need to be/achieve ___ to.." Now don't get me wrong, I'm on this journey with you. I write on this blog to teach my brain how to think in the higher mindset that I'm creating for myself. I too have thoughts like this which is why in 2024 we are going to break out of our old selves to make room for our new selves together. We have to lose ourselves to find ourselves. If you're mood and self-worth are controlled by other people's opinions, then you will never advance further with yourself and will remain stationary. You have to stop allowing other people to determine whether you are allowed to pursue your desires or if you shouldn't because of fear of rejection. Don't take life too seriously, we are only here for so much time. So what if people make fun of you? In a few years will you look back and be proud and fulfilled of your past or feel regret and disappointment? LISTEN TO: WHY YOU CARE SO MUCH BY JULIANHIMSELF + LISTEN TO: HOW TO DETACH BY VICKITA TRIVEDI

The only way to get to 0%-100% is by doing.

Embody your potential

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

I desperately just want to sleep

[brot-writings]

I always dreamed of creating something magnificent. Something that people would lay their eyes on and marvel. a lighthouse draped so bright amongst the starscape of everyone else that no one could ignore it even if they wanted to. They wouldn’t want to though. 

But magnificence and marvels and masterpieces require time and dedication and craft that I long since realized isn’t me. I can’t even look at this screen long enough to purge my thoughts out in one sitting, much less hone a skill to the level of attention. I know that, but it hasn’t stopped me from clinging to trying outshine the stars anyway even when it falls apart before the scaffolding is even in place over and over again.

My drafts folder has three beginnings of stories or poems or ramblings or something or other that have been eroding to the tides for well over a month. I’ll think about them all the time, losing the smallest bits and pieces to the waves until the the spark that brought it to life is doused out.

There’s a drawing tablet buried in three months worth of dust sitting on the desk next to me that I spent way too much money on five months ago. A folder on my desktop that has twenty three files that I can’t bring myself to delete even though they laugh like thunder barely visible on the horizon.

I’ve got a package of Origami Paper in the little keyboard drawer with four hundred and sixty three pages inside watched over by a clan of nine nuns, six butterflies, four cats in various poses, three ducks, two mice, a jumping frog, and twelve lost souls deformed by shaking fingers. 

I don’t even want to think about all the outlines and first chapters sitting in my google docs. 

I still pull out the jumping frog every so often though. His name is Gerald. Every time I try to see how many jumps it takes to get from one end of my desk to the other. I just took a break to see and it only took three this time! usually it’s at least five. maybe I'll make him a friend to race with. I’ll name her Gertrude. 

When I logged back into this account for the first time since January 1, 2021 I drew a new profile picture for myself using that tablet because I wanted something cute and fun and I’ve had the nickname “I love bread” or “Bread man” from my internet friends for so long I needed to finally tangibalize it somehow. I really love the way the smile and the eye highlights turned out.

And now this little rambling that I started three months ago with just “I used to dream about being important” is actually something. and I definitely am not important in the sense I meant when I wrote that beginning but I think this collection of words and phrases can be. If I got the point across in the way I wanted to, I mean. I might not have though I’m still pretty new to this whole writing thing. (I’ll leave it in the tags if I confused you just to be sure.)

I just ordered one of those glass dip pens with a bunch of colors of ink and a leather notebook with an owl on the cover. I’ve always loved owls, they look so silly. I think it’ll be fun for a bit, even if no one sees it. Maybe I’ll draw a starscape inside. 

[lumi-nescentt]

Heaven Is A Place On Earth With You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: slight sexual joke at some point

Words: 1.8k

Summary: The Max everyone knows is a lot different from the Max he is behind closed doors. That's even truer when he hasn't seen you in a while and all he wants is to spend time doing nothing with his girl.

A/N: I'm procrastinating for my finals so I'm going to try to finish all the WIP I currently have :) hope you like max being hopelessly in love bc that's what you're getting here

Max was known for being blunt, sometimes rough which on track made him almost unstoppable. However, the Max you knew was way different. He treated you with such care and delicacy, it was sickeningly sweet. From the moment you two had started dating, he had done his best to show you that he wasn't what the rest of the world portrayed him to be. That he was worthy of the affection you felt for him.

Slow mornings with Max were your favourite moments. He always woke up before you but he never dared to leave the bed before you wanted to. He didn’t particularly liked laying around but there was something about being close to you that made him want to stay there forever. You looked so peaceful cuddled up against him, he wouldn’t have dared to wake you up anyway. He much preferred admiring you until you woke up and he could finally talk to you.

When your eyes started fluttering awake, the first thing you were aware of was the arm around your waist. Max's hand was on your naked back, keeping you as close to him as possible. The weight of it was comforting and it was always the first thing you noticed when he came back late at night while you were already asleep, from races you couldn’t have gone to. You liked knowing that even when he was exhausted from all the travelling, he still took the time to nestle your body against his before falling asleep with you between his arms. 

As soon as he realised you were awake, Max started peppering the side of your face with kisses which made you giggle and look up at him. There was something really special about the look you gave your boyfriend when you were slowly coming back to reality that he loved. It always looked as if you were falling back in love with him all over again in a matter of seconds. You had the softest look on your face and as far as heart eyes went, yours were probably the most intense someone ever had until Max looked at you with the same intensity and his entire face lit up, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration before he broke the silence and finally spoke.

-" Good morning schatje" he greeted you with a kiss on your forehead

-" Hi Maxie" you mumbled, still sleepy

-" Did you sleep well ?"

-" I alway sleep well when you're here so yes. How about you ?"

-" Great, I had the best human heater next to me."

-" Do you have anything planned today ?"

-" Nope, I'm all yours. Did you want to do anything special ?"

-" Just wanted to stay with you."

-" Do you want me to make breakfast and then we can go walk on the beach ?"

-" That sounds good."

-" Lets go then." Max said, trying to stand up from the bed but you had moved your body half on top of him

-" Schatje, if you want breakfast you're gonna have to get off me."

-" I thought you liked me on top ?" you winked, making the Dutch man blush

-" I do but I also like you alive and well fed so hop off please."

With a groan, you turned on your side, liberating Max who stood up. He tried to convince you to follow him in the kitchen but you needed a few more minutes so after kissing your forehead, Max went to cook breakfast alone. He didn’t mind doing it on his own. Taking care of you when he was here was one of his favourite things to do just to see you smile at him and have you kiss his cheek as a thank you. It was all worth it for your reaction alone. 

Five minutes later, Max felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and your face pressing against his back. He still hadn’t put a shirt back on after sleeping in boxers all night. He never wore much to bed since you were always warm enough for him to sleep almost naked and not freeze. So when you pressed small kisses against his shoulder blades, he almost let go of the coffee cup he was holding, your breath tickling his skin. 

-“ Behave please, schatje.” Max smiled, patting your hands that were resting on his stomach

-“ ‘m not doing anything.” you answered, tightening your grip around him

-“ Not yet but I know you might try something so if you want to eat decent food please wait until I set everything on the table.” 

-“ Can’t promise anything.” Max laughed at your answer before going back to what he was doing. 

Since you had moved in with him, Max found out that he actually didn’t hate slowing down for a bit and enjoying the little things. He just never had someone he loved to do it with until you came along. Now, he loved just hanging around in the apartment, bodies dancing around each other in the kitchen when you were both doing your own thing but still enjoying each other’s presence. He found solace in doing the most mundane things with you. He wouldn’t dare to say it out loud but as long as you were together, everything felt like an adventure. 

Enjoying breakfast together while looking out the balcony was a great way to start the day according to him, maybe even his favourite. You were apparently in a good mood too judging by how playful you were being, stealing bits from his plate with a grin and teasingly nudging his shoulder with yours. If it had been anyone else, Max would have protested a little but there was not much he would get angry at you for so he let it slide, stealing something back for good measure. 

He could have completely forgotten about the walk on the beach he had promised if you hadn’t rushed to get ready as soon as you had finished eating. He followed you with a laugh, trying not to blush at the sight of you in a pretty sundress with your hair falling down your shoulders. You looked radiant with joy and it suited you all too well. Max was glad his actions made you feel this way. In fact, he wasn’t just glad, no. Max was proud to be able to make you happy in a way no one else did because if at first he hadn’t thought himself capable of fully giving you the love he thought you deserved, he now knew that you wanted whatever he was willing and capable of giving you. 

You were more than content with the amount of love you received from your boyfriend and you made sure to make it known and to return the attention because despite his tough exterior, you had been around the Dutchman for long enough to know that there was nothing that touched him more than being loved openly and freely, without conditions. 

The car ride to the beach was spent in comfortable silence, Max’s hand on your thigh as you looked out the window, feeling the wind caress your face. Max tried to steal a few glances your way while he drove but his eyes never stayed long. He was way too careful when he was the one responsible for your well-being. You had tried teasing him about it to make him relax but he was adamant that as your boyfriend, he had to make sure you were as safe as possible. 

You couldn’t really argue with that so you let him be, knowing that as soon as he’d be done driving, you’d be able to play around again. So the moment the car was finally parked, you were bolting out the door, screaming that the last one in the water would be a terrible loser. It didn’t take long for Max’s brain to compute but by the time he started running, you already had a good lead.

However, you hadn’t considered the fact your boyfriend was a literal athlete and that his cardio was considerably better than yours. Before you could even reach the water, Max had catched up to you and effortlessly picked you up, still going towards the sea with a grin on his face. 

-“ Please Max, put me down. Don’t throw me in.” you screeched as he kept jogging lightly

-“ You should have thought about that when you cheated, you little minx.” Max responded, poking your side with his finger as you laughed 

-“ But I had to, otherwise I had no chance of winning. You’re too quick for me, Mr. World Champion” 

-“ Flattery won’t get you anywhere now, schatje. It’s too late”. Max smirked before dropping you in the water, jumping right behind you as you swam further away, your boyfriend close behind

-“ I hate you so much.” you lied, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying your best to swim at the same time before Max wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing you even closer

-“ For the record, I might have let you win if you hadn’t cheated or made me watch you undress and run at the same time.” the Dutchman smiled, pecking your lips 

-“ Who said I lost ?” 

-“ You were the first one in the water, baby. That makes you the loser of your own game.” 

-“ Maybe it was my plan all along…”

-“ y/n, you’re the sorest loser I know. There’s no way you’d plan to lose.”

-“ Well, I don’t care. I’m in your arms right now and we’re at this beautiful empty beach. I intend to make the most of this situation I definitely planned for and kiss you until you get sick of it.”

-“ Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Max chuckled, his whole face lighting up “ We’re going to be here for a while then because I don’t think I could ever get tired of kissing you.”  

-“ Alright then, the first one to stop is a terrible loser.” you smiled with a toothy grin

-“ Schat… Are you sure you can handle another loss today ?” 

-“ Bring it on, lover boy. Less talking, more kissing.”

-“ You don’t have to ask me twice.” he mumbled before pressing his lips against yours, brushing your wet hair away from your face

Maybe you lost the first game but when a family arrived at the beach and their little boy somehow recognised your boyfriend from afar and practically screamed that Max Verstappen was here, Max had to let you go. He wasn’t a fan of PDA, even less when it was around fans but in that moment, he wished he was just to erase the smug grin on your face when he lost the stupid challenge you had set. 

Before heading over to see the boy, Max made sure to peck your lips. He bit your lower lip slightly, not missing the way your face flushed when he did before asking for a rematch when you were back home. You already loved how the day had started but now you were sure that the rest of it would be just as good, if not better. This was just another thing to add to the list of why being home together was your favourite place to be.

[railingsofsorrow]

summary: pretty is the perfect word to describe your boyfriend.

pairing: s.r x gn!reader

w.c: 794

warnings: not edited.

A/N: another one because I'm procrastinating other works

navi

masterpost

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the case was over. finally. the jet was filled with silence as soon as each one of you prepare to either sleep, read a book, tune out the world with music or just gaze out the window — in spencer's case, he chose his usual pick: a book. he's currently invested in a mystery novel you presented to him a week ago. it wasn't his commonly choice for reading but he find himself enjoying it. his eyes scanned quickly through the page as he turned another one and another one, when he felt something soft pressing against the back of his neck.

“i love you.”

his posture straightened up in surprise, not noticing you approach. upon feeling your arms wrap around his neck he immediately relaxed against your touch. “you startled me.” he mumbled, blushing slightly.

you nodded, kissing the side of his ear, “i know, sorry.”

he tilted his head to look up at you since you were standing behind him, his lips quirking up in a smile. “hi,” he greets in a whisper.

you whispered it back and closed the gap between your lips in a quick peck, your hand descending to the conjunction area between his neck and shoulder.

spencer was used to your love language being physical touch. he'd often have you touching his hands, playing with his fingers, or caressing his shoulder. you wouldn't outright kiss him on the lips in front of the team, the both of you had a mutual agreement on maintaining a professional stance.

but now your hands were all over him and he didn't know what to do. spencer is shy with physical displays of affection. you're aware of it since the beginning of your relationship. and you're not doing it on purpose, really. you're not. but how can you have such a pretty boyfriend with soft curls and amber eyes and pretty hands and pretty— everything. just the way spencer would turn a page of a book or a case file, slightly raising his pointer finger as the other grazed through the paper, would leave you mesmerized.

you couldn't help it. he was just too pretty to not worship; this was what went through your head as you woke up from your slumber and caught his hunched over frame focused on a hard cover.

“you okay?” he uttered, studying your features, you weren't upside down anymore but sitting beside him. emily had vanished to get some coffee and you stole her seat.

you let out a hum in agreement, biting your cheek to stop yourself from grinning. “you're just too pretty, sometimes I can't help myself, spence.”

“oh.”

if derek was awake right now, he'd be spitting teases in his ear non-stop from how bad spencer felt himself burning. he was sure he was as red as a strawberry. “sorry,” you grinned sheepishly, pulling a light brown strand of his behind his ear because you felt like it. “i'll stop.” you leaned back on the chair. “you can keep reading, sorry I interrupted.”

“i don't mind,” he croaked out, shutting the book without marking the page. he knew the paragraph and made a mental note of the number, that would do, it's not like he could forget. he leaned closer to you, taking one of your hands in his with a soft smile. “you think I'm too pretty?” the softeness turned into a smirk as he tilted his head in faux innocence.

rolling your eyes, you pushed his shoulder playfully, earning a chuckle. you secretly loved that side of him too, below that layer of shyness laid a smug teaser.

“you're beautiful.” he said bringing one of your hands to his lips before intertwining your fingers. “and I love you, too.” he let out in a whisper. a promise.

it didn't take long for you to be tucked into his side, your face mushed against the soft fabric of his sweater. his fingers running through your scalp made you drift off again.

emily comes back to a stolen seat and a cuddling section. she stares at it for a minute, coffee in hand, blinking. half baffled half annoyed. who is she kidding? she can't get annoyed at her two favourite people.

“sit down, prentiss.” hotch mutters with an edge to his tone. when she turned to him he had the corner of his lips slightly upwards. barely noticeable, but it was there. blake warns her with a look, it was as if they were sensing she would commit the crime of disturbing the couple.

she huffs playfully, sitting down next to derek. taking a sip of her coffee, she elbows him, gaining a groan in return. she nudged him again.

“what?” he rubs his eyes, moving one of his earphones. he looks at her and sighs. “what are you doing here? I'm trying to sleep.”

“they stole my seat with their happiness.” emily complains. “I'm going to throw them out the window.”

derek follows her line of sight and his eyes sparkle with mischief. he snaps a picture at the two of you, chuckling as he observes it. “penelope is gonna love this.”

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[mothhball]

five-finger discount

Pairing | Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blackmail, sex on camera, brief edging, creampie, cheating, cursing, Moth pretends to know anything about movies

Summary | You’ve been trying to make easy money, but you’re not as subtle as you thought. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

Words | 4.4k

Notes | FINALLY DONE. and vaguely inspired by 70s porn haha

MINORS DNI

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – THRILLER AISLE – DAY

“No, it's not. That's not what she said. Someone is in trouble. Something bad is happening!” squawks a woman from the running TV in the background while your fingers trace over the backs of the VHS as you walk past the shelves.

1 PM on a Wednesday certainly is no rush hour at Gumshoe Video. Even the most annoying film bros don't come here at this time of day to flaunt their knowledge of the craft and subsequent absence of social skills. You're in the clear, pretending to deeply think about your choice in entertainment for the end of the day, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you spot the business owner, entranced by the film that he put on to pass the time, and you can see his plush lips silently mouthing along to the dialog. Cute. And easy to trick.

It's not your first time here. No, you made sure to become familiar with the place over the course of months now, learning where each genre and title has been sorted into its rightful place.

Certain old VHS-tapes can sell for a small fortune online, and for every tape you rent, you take one for free with the plan of selling it to the highest bidder. Currently, you have a stack at home, waiting for you to finally stop procrastinating and open up that damn eBay account.

Your pinky catches on a specific tape. 'A History of Violence', currently estimated to lure an additional 199 bucks into your greedy bank account. Quietly, you pull out the film, leaving a gaping hole in the neatly sorted row as you slip it into your purse.

With nimble hands, you try to rearrange the tapes to make the missing VHS a little less obvious, but in your haste, a few of them escape your clammy grasp and clutter to the ground. A head of silky brunette hair whips around, and you're met with pretty blue eyes as the store owner turns to face you.

You let out a giggle, trying to sound as vapid and innocuous as possible. You’re in character now. The persona you chose? An unassuming, ditzy little thing that’s hot enough to distract him, but stupid enough as to not get suspected of any wrong-doings. You’d say you’re a good actress. A fantastic one, even.

"Sorry," you purr, batting your eyelashes at him. "I'm a little clumsy today." You're already bending over to pick up the tapes when he makes his way over to lend a helping hand, and you make sure to show off your cleavage in an intentionally accidental way. You know he’s into you. You’ve been seeing the heat in his gaze for weeks now, along with the occasional crack in his voice and an almost endearing desire to impress you. It’s his biggest weakness and the reason your plan has been working flawlessly until now.

"Hey, hey, no worries. Uh, gravity wins sometimes. Don't sweat it," he grins at you, brushing his fingers against yours as the two of you work together to put everything back into place.

"What exactly were you looking for anyway?" he suddenly asks, breaking your focus for a second.

"Uh, Moonstruck," you mutter, completely on autopilot. The store owner nods, pursing his lips as he mulls over your answer. You’re aware of your blunder before he even answers.

"Moonstruck? Then you're in the wrong section. You know, with how often you come here, I thought you got the hang of our layout by now." Fuck, he’s got you. Play dumb. Play dumb!

Your poker face almost cracks, but you keep your composure. Or at least you try to. "Huh? Oh - I... right. God, I'm just all over the place today." You giggle again, relieved by the way his grin seems to soften. Hook, line and sinker. He may think he’s detective Sam Spade from ‘The Maltese Falcon’, but you’re Brigid O’Shaughnessy. Or he’s Batman and you’re Catwoman. Or – well, it doesn’t matter. Baseline is, you’re snatching tapes right from underneath his nose while he’s too busy fantasizing about what’s underneath your clothes.

The store owner speaks up again, lazily rubbing the back of his neck as he leans against the shelf, and his free hand wanders and gestures around a bit as if he’s trying to figure out which pose would look the coolest and most effortless.

“Right. Actually, that wasn’t really fair of me.” You tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly which prompts him to elaborate. “Some of our tapes went missing. Y’know, some of the oldies and goldies? That’s why I didn’t stock Moonstruck this week.”

Your lips part in surprise, but all you can reply with is a soft ‘oh’. The store owner shrugs, leaning in towards you. There’s something conspiratory about his expression which makes your stomach churn a little. “Yeah. But I do still have it. It’s just in my office.”

There’s a beat of silence as you mull over the unspoken offer. Your plan is built on the one tape you always rent for cheap. No one would think you’re stealing if you’re actually paying for something, right? Despite this, you wonder if you should call it a day and head home with the stolen film hidden in your purse. Alibi be damned.

“I… That’s great. Uh, actually, I was just about to –“ he cuts you off with a casual wave of his hand, and the grin on his face widens once more.

“Don’t worry. I’ll even give you a discount. Just follow me.”

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – NEIL LEWIS’ PRIVATE OFFICE – DAY

The private office of Neil Lewis, cinephile and pop culture enthusiast, is decorated with a distinct Film Noir charm, lovingly empathized by leather chairs and a checkered floor. Not to mention the letters on the door. He calls himself a private investigator. A joking title that makes you palms sweat ever so slightly. You notice that he set up a small camera on his desk, but he brushes it off as a regular procedure.

"So... Moonstruck,” he starts, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you do. “Great pick. Just curious - Why did you go for that one?" The question makes you pause for a second.

"The... the cover spoke to me,” you casually lie, trying to sound somewhat cute, but it doesn’t land. Neil’s expression quickly betrays his skepticism, and his lips part while his narrowed gaze wanders around the room for a minute. "Hm. And what about the other one?"

"What do you mean?" Play dumb, play dumb, play – but he’s not letting you off the hook so easily.

"The other tape."

Silence fills the office, and you swear the VHS in your purse is starting to burn a hole right where it’s settled in your lap.

"Which... other tape? I just picked out this one."

"Ohhh, right. Sorry. My bad. Just… Moonstruck." The way he’s saying this makes it seem like he enjoys the taste of the letters on his tongue. You nod, a little too eager to get this conversation over and done with.

"So you won’t mind me looking through your purse?" Neil leans forward in his seat, folding his hands on top of his desk. Your eyes briefly fall onto the little desk name plate that’s undoubtedly just made out of shiny, golden plastic. But it does the job. It intimidates you. At least to a certain degree.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, trying to shrug off the tension. “I… it’s certainly no problem, Mr. Lewis. None at all.”

Neil lets out an apathetic sigh as he rises from his seat, causing the leather to squeak. His steps seem a little too confident for a video rental owner as he moves around the desk to first walk over to the door and lock it. “Neil is fine. I’m not a big fan of… formalities,” he starts, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders. His hands are gentle but firm, causing your body to warm right down to the deepest layers. To make his control over the situation even more apparent, he splays his hands, tracing your collarbone with his middle finger. It’s subtle enough that he could pass it off as a figment of your imagination if you should choose to speak up. But you don’t. You stay quiet, even as he leans down and you can hear the murmur of his voice right next to your ear.

“Open your purse.”

You bite your tongue, slowly opening your purse to find Cher’s face grinning back at you. It’s Moonstruck. In all of its romantic glory, and it makes both you and Neil freeze for a moment. You lick your dry lips, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"That's mine."

"Yours?" You wouldn’t know, but his eyebrow twitches upward at your ridiculous claim.

"Yeah. A... personal copy." Great, now you’re doubling down.

"With my name on it?" Silence, yet again. You could basically hear the dramatic music that the producers of any reality TV shows use in the background of any tense scene. But this isn’t scripted. No, all of this is improvised.

"... what are the odds?" you croak, feeling how your throat goes dry in real time. Neil scoffs in reply, shaking his head, and his grip on your shoulders tightens a tad before he lets go entirely. His expression is stern as he steps in front of you, leaning against the desk and crossing his shapely arms over his chest. For a moment, he’s silent, letting his eyes wander all over your form in a slow, appreciative way that makes your palms get sweaty. “You do know I have to call the police, don’t you?”

“What?” Your breath hitches in your lungs, and you blink a few times, almost in an attempt to shake yourself out of this very strange dream. “This… this is just one tape. Isn’t this kind of excessive?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s one tape today. But you’ve been coming here for weeks.” Your jaw drops, but you can’t seem to come up with an appropriate response. You’ve been had. For the past months, you were convinced that he only saw you as a little piece of eye candy wandering through the store, but he’s been seeing right through you all along. Now you definitely don’t feel like Catwoman anymore. When he notices that you’re not going to say anything, Neil continues.

“Did you really think we don’t have security cameras all over the place? Well, I’ve been watching you the entire time, playing along when you pretended to be all ditzy and cute. It’s not just one instance. It’s a whole case, baby. And you’ll go to jail.” That makes you break out of your stupor, and you can feel your pulse speeding up.

“No- wait, no, no, no. Please, can’t we just talk about this for one second?”

“I don’t bargain with thieves.” He’s smug. Too smug for your liking, considering that he’s threatening you with the loss of your precious, precious freedom.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you plead, fixing him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster in an attempt to appeal to the soft, awkward side of him. And he cracks. At least the tiniest bit.

“Maybe… maybe we can work something out. But I’ll need to search you first. Who knows what else you’re hiding.” He gestures for you to stand, and you get up from your seat, causing the leather cushioning to faintly squeak once again. “Spread your arms. To the side.”

Your expression settles into a pout, but you do as you’re told, much to Neil’s satisfaction. He returns to his previous position behind you and starts by touching your shoulders, slowly trailing his hands down your arms. His fingers leave tingles behind on your skin, and you’re even more aware of how close he’s gotten when you feel his breath on the back of your neck. His cheeky hands continue to wander, making their way down your sides, softly squeezing around your waist before he moves on to your hips. You try to think about it as a TSA search, but it’s a little hard to do when his hands linger for much longer than necessary on your thighs and your calves as he crouches down. Once he’s satisfied, he straightens back up, and you almost think he’s done before he leans in to rasp into your ear.

“You’re gonna have to take your clothes off… so I can search you more thoroughly.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re about to protest, but he’s already pulling your top off, tossing it aside before he moves on to your shorts. A sigh escapes him as he pulls them down along with your panties, and he doesn’t give you even a second to recover before he’s gripping and caressing the curves of your body. Leaning his chin on your shoulder, he runs his fingers over your hips, feeling how your skin warms beneath his touch. “Take your bra off.”

“What? There’s no way I could be hiding a tape in there –“ In response, Neil lightly pinches your thigh, causing you to jump a little and let out a soft whine. Seems like there’s no way around it. With shaky hands, you reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra, and Neil leans back ever so slightly to give you the space to move. That is, until your tits are exposed, and his body is glued against yours once more. The feeling of his hardening cock pressing up against your ass sends heat into your core, and you instinctively clench your thighs together. Of course, this catches his attention.

“Ah, so you are hiding something.”

He wraps his arms around you, steering the two of you over to the mirror he hung on the wall next to his ridiculous little costume rack. You watch your own flushed expression as his hand slips between your legs to let his fingers trace over your already wet folds. With a groan, you try to avert your eyes before he corrects you with a rough grope of your breast.

“No. Eyes on yourself. I want you to see the guilt on your face while I search you.”

Reluctantly, your eyes return to the mirror, just in time for him to plunge a finger into your velvety pussy. Your lips part, and as much as you’d like to keep quiet, your resolve crumbles immediately when he finds that sweet spot inside of you. Within minutes, the office fills up with the sounds of your pleasure and the obscene squelching of his fingers in your wet cunt. And he’s thorough in his search, quickly working you up from one finger to three, making your toes curl against the checkered floor. For a moment, he drives you up to that delightful edge, only to pull his fingers out of you at the last second.

You don’t have the capacity to complain when he lifts his hand towards the light, showing off his glistening digits. Both of you are entranced by the sight, and Neil lets out a soft wheeze before he licks his fingers clean.

“Yeah, I made up my mind. Get over to the desk and bend over.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you whine, turning your head to give him your biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Well, you should’ve thought about it before you stole from me. Losing those rare tapes was a financial disaster for me. I’m risking this store. And I’m not gonna do it without something in return.” He finishes his sentence with a light smack to your ass which only manages to get you even more riled up. It’s hard to disagree with him when he knows just how to get you going.

Neil drags you back over to the desk, angling the camera in just the right way before he hurriedly tears his clothes off completely. The sight of his urgency makes your chest fill with butterflies, but you still need to protest. You have to!

“I don’t usually do this… what if my boyfriend finds out?”

“That’s one more reason to behave. You wouldn’t want him to see this little clip, right?” he asks, although the question is entirely rhetorical. You’d love to feel guilty, but you can’t bring yourself to it.

 His hands run from your shoulders down to your hips, kneading your flesh with the attentiveness of a potter crafting a masterpiece, and he leans over you to place open-mouthed kisses down your spine. You shiver, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle the noises that are threatening to escape your mouth. With a quick movement, Neil reaches under your knee to guide your leg on top of the desk, and you let out a soft sigh when you can feel your arousal rolling down the inside of your thigh as he spreads you open with two fingers.

“You know… nice girls wouldn’t get this wet in situations like these. Then again, you’re a filthy thief, so you’re the furthest thing from a good girl.”

Neil wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest so he can latch back onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting while he uses his other hand to guide the tip of his cock against your drooling entrance. His naked skin against yours fills your head with need, and you press up against him a little more to feel him more closely as he slowly pushes inside your velvety cunt. Both of you let out a hiss, and Neil follows it up with a needy whimper as he stills for a moment.

“Fuck… oh fuck,” he breathes, causing your lips to twitch up in subtle amusement. Neil’s hand shakes as he adjusts the camera, making sure to get everything in frame, and in this moment, you clench around him on purpose, causing him to moan right into your ear. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that –”

The slap to your ass is meant to punish you, but it’s doing the exact opposite, and you let him know this by moaning his name. His lips return to your pulse as he pushes his cock deeper into you, stretching you so perfectly that it sends goosebumps over your skin. Or maybe it’s because of his warm breath on your ear. Or his hands diligently kneading your tits. The cocktail of heated touches and sensations is literally making you feel drunk.

“Your cock feels so good,” you whine, causing him to suck in a sharp breath at the praise.

“Yeah?” he chuckles, bottoming out inside of you before he starts to set a slow, sensual rhythm. “You’re such a depraved little slut… getting off on your punishment. If only your boyfriend knew.”

Neil rolls his hips against yours, drawing a moan from both of you that would fit perfectly on the set of a porno. Maybe you’re hamming it up a little to feed his ego. But that isn’t very hard to do when he fills you up so deliciously, making you wetter with every thrust.

You’re already starting to feel breathless when he slowly speeds up, drilling into your dripping pussy with even more fervor. Words are starting to become a little difficult, but you try your best anyway. “You’re better than him. SO much better –“

Your reward is a second smack – aimed at your chest this time.

“You’re damn right I am,” he groans, sucking another hickey into your skin and adding to the little necklace of bruises he’s been placing around your neck. “Suck these for me, will you?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but it doesn’t last long when he brings his fingers up to your mouth, and you eagerly latch onto his digits, still faintly tasting yourself from earlier. You suck them down to the knuckle, running your tongue in between them in a way that makes him groan and pound your cunt even harder. Once his fingers are sufficiently coated in your saliva, he pulls them free from your lips and reaches between your legs to rub your clit.

The one leg you’ve been standing on threatens to give out immediately, but he holds you up with his other arm, and gently guides your hands into place to better support yourself on the desk. Neil nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing heavily against the shell of your ear.

“If you promise not to steal ever again, I might let you cum on my cock.”

His words are intercepted by quiet grunts and whimpers, and you find yourself agreeing pretty quickly, blabbering out promise after promise.

“I’ll never – never steal again! I swear, I swear, I swear, please! Please, please let me cum –!”

You’re almost not recognizing your own voice due to the desperately needy tone that’s laced through your pleading, but Neil doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, really, because you can feel his thrusts picking up in intensity. He rewards your obedience by rubbing your clit a little faster, and you have to bite your knuckle as to not cry out his name. Fuck, it’s only noon and you’re approaching your release at breakneck speed.

“Fuck… I – I’m close,” you breathe, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. His teeth are back in your neck as he kisses and bites at your skin, and his voice sounds strained as he answers you.

“Go ahead… let go for me. If only your boyfriend knew, hm?”

That’s it. Your orgasm rips through you, and you let out a whine as you claw at the surface beneath you. Neil is generous enough to let you ride out your climax, but you can tell how impatient he is when he suddenly pulls out, swallowing heavily.

 “On your back.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. It’s a little awkward, but you manage to scramble and reposition yourself, lying back against the desk and looking up at him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Neil is in the same state, licking his lips and swallowing dryly as he guides his cock back into your cunt, aided by his thumb on the base of his length.

“Fuck… how can you still be this tight? Shit, FUCK…” He’s cursing and muttering under his breath, having half a brain to readjust the still rolling camera as to not miss a single second. His hands guide your legs around his waist, and he leans over you, staring at you through blown out pupils that clash against the vibrant intensity of his ocean gaze. His pretty face is red, and sweat beads on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his skin. Without thinking, you reach up to push it back, causing both of you to still for a second before Neil finds his tone again.

“M’gonna fill you up… and send you back home to your boyfriend with a creampie in that pretty cunt. Alright? Alright.”

You can only nod in response, hearing your own racing heartbeat in your ears along with his continued grunts and moans. His hands on you are gentle, but his thrusts definitely aren’t as he pounds you against the desk. Neil’s hips smack against yours, causing every novelty item around the two of you to tremble along to your feverish rhythm. You tilt your head back but he goes after you, finally capturing your lips in a hungry kiss that he’s been trying to hold back from the entire time. But now that he’s rapidly approaching his own climax, the self-restraint is completely out of the window.

Your tongues clash, and you moan into his mouth when his hands find yours, linking your fingers together. Neil’s lips faintly taste of iced coffee as he licks against your tongue, and your grip on his hands tightens when his movements start to become erratic.

Your lips stay locked the entire time, even as he lets out a guttural groan when he finishes inside of you, thrusting into you a few more times to push it in as deep as possible. Finally, he stills and pulls away from you, unable to resist stealing one last peck from your swollen lips. You’re still breathing heavily as his hands roam over your body once more, relishing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. Now that he has material on you and you promised not to steal again, he’s gentle. Almost too gentle, and you have to clear your throat to snap him out of it.

Neil catches himself, blinking down at you with soft eyes while he wipes some sweat off his brow. There’s a subtle twitch in his lips that tells you that he’d love to keep touching you, but he’s aware of the setting you’re in. Almost reluctantly, he pulls out of you to let you retrieve your clothes. While you’re getting dressed, he checks the camera and stops the recording before he speaks up.

“You’re free to go, then. You know what happens if I catch you stealing again, right?”

The question prompts you to nod in response, and you mumble out a “yes” as you pull your top back over your head. Once Neil confiscates the VHS from your purse, you’re free to exit the store on trembling legs, cringing a little at the feeling of your combined fluids leaking into your underwear. But God, this heist was worth it.

INT. YOUR PLACE – LIVING ROOM – DAY

As expected, the house is quiet when you get home, and you let out a deep, satisfied sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch to decompress for a moment.

Not even 20 minutes pass until the front door opens, and you hear familiar footsteps. A lazy smile spreads over your face, and you sit up, watching you boyfriend as he kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over the coat rack on the wall. He makes his way over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, and your vision is filled by ocean eyes and faint freckles. Neil chuckles softly, placing the camera onto the coffee table before he sinks down on the couch next to you and pulls you close. “I’m glad Lucien agreed to take over the rest of the day.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes when he brushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp.

“I think that was our best one yet.”

FIN.

tags: @ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls (couldn't tag) @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411 @ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

[nonsensical-pixels]

hellow, new update, for now this is gonna look a bit more like a random thoughts / gameplay simblr...

ts2 is running amazing on fedora 41 - i'm legit not getting ANY pink even with a full stress test of high lot imposters, a TON of high-poly cc, etc! LITERALLY my dream!

but, unfortunately, i haven't got simpe, milkshape, etc. to run yet. which i've been procrastinating for some time due to lack of tutorials but also laziness, i'm liking my new schedule and i can finally enjoy this game the way will wright intended 🩷

A FINAL UPDATE FOR MY PINK SOUP EXPERIMENTATION

at this point, i have tested sims 2 on the latest windows 11 on various other PCs in my house, with both AMD and NVIDIA graphics cards. there's barely any difference. i still am experiencing major crashing and pink soup issues on systems with an RTX 3060, RX 580, GTX 1660 Ti, and of course my 7900 XTX. dxvk, new drivers, literally everything great minds like @osab and @brandinotbroke and many others have suggested has done nothing.

BUT!

at their suggestion, i tried Linux. Fedora 41 as i said above.

AND ALL MY PROBLEMS HAVE GONE AWAY.

other games are now running smoothly too with 0 errors and crashing; of course i don't have access to the same apps and ease of comfort as i did on windows, but hot damn, i can play sims 2! with and without cc! again!!

i am also not the only one, funnily enough! in our tests this massive pink flashing issue seems to affect not just my PC, but many others who have both NVIDIA or AMD graphics cards. the only link we have found... is windows 11.

with Linux it just all goes away!

so tl;dr;

IF YOU ARE HAVING PINK FLASHING ISSUES ON YOUR WINDOWS 11, IT IS LIKELY NOT YOUR PC, IT IS AN ISSUE WITH THE LATEST WINDOWS UPDATE!

so do NOT go out buying yourself an RTX GPU or a new CPU, it is just NOT going to help! don't bother with trying to reinstall windows because literally it has done nothing for me.

our current theory is that something is screwed with the latest update. in directx, in texture memory allocation - literally do not know. all we know is that a different OS just - fixes it. literally and figuratively like magic.

if you're willing to learn how to install Linux and potentially a new SSD, go for it! hopefully in a few days me or someone else will have a tutorial out.

LONG LIVE LINUX!

[loveandleases]

Full Disclosure, I went through PAGES of tags to find the Pregnant-by-Chris!MC asks so I could revisit the angst, and it also got me wondering. How would the ROs react if MC ended up pregnant with their kid? And with regards to the F!ROs and trans ROs, how would they react if THEY got pregnant by MC? I'm down with this going in a fluffy or angsty direction, as you gathered from my search for the previous asks about it, so answer however you like!

Oh noo. I swear I'll get to work on the masterpost so you can find things easier, it's been a long time coming and I need to stop procrastinating. I feel like I did this ask before...but I'm not positive. So I'll do it again with how the RO's have developed. Below the cut~ (Tagged with pregnancy for those who don't want to read.)

❤️ Cam - Ec-fucking-static. At first. Cam would be so pleased because finally his own family. Not that MC and Em weren't already. He would give all of his love to his child, unlike what he got from his parents. Then there would be the problem. What if he's just like his parents? What if he's unable to love them the way they need or support them when they need it. MC would have to have an honest heart-to-heart with him.

💙 G - Very nervous at first. There are a lot of things to consider such as school and childbirth. Is their current living space even safe for a kid? And what if MC or G has more than one kid, it's possible. G would need a bit to kind of come to terms with it. Once they have, G is golden. They're happy and don't bother to try and hide behind their cool demeanor.

Now if ex-G/MC had gotten pregnant. It would be so painful for them, because would MC want to be in the picture or would MC allow them to be. If the breakup still happened and MC had gotten with Chris, G would fight with everything they have to see their child, or to give MC the chance to see them. (it's bittersweet)

💚 Kara - So she would be scared more than anything. Happy comes way later, once she's sure this is what she wants. Because for Kara, she doesn't really get to make her own decisions so much of her life is decided for her. If her first real big decision is having a kid, she's going to ace it. First off by having a chat with her parents (who would to overstep), then MC's parents. About what is allowed and isn't. The grandparents don't get to dictate the pregnancy, the childbirth, the child. If they want to be involved then they will be expected to abide by Kara and MC's wishes or be cut out. That simple. (She will buy too many baby clothes ahead of time, it will be a problem)

💛 M - What!? Excuse you, whose pregnant? With a baby? Like an actual human being? How did this happen!? (This is M's reaction regardless of whose pregnant. )MC has to remind shocked M how in fact that did happen. In which case M turns blood red and refuses to look at MC until they've calmed down.) M is going to go through 5 stages. 1 being shock, 2 being really shocked 3 understanding 4 go back and repeat step 1, 2 and 3. 5 acceptance. Leading them all the way to joy. M will take a good bit before they get through those steps, but when they do they're happy, nervous but happy. M isn't sure how to deal with kids. If they have one should they just go ahead and have another too? M will want to call their mothers' immediately. Get some info about raising a kid and what to expect. They will order far too many books about kids and what to expect when you're expecting. (take their computer for their own good)

💜 Isaac - They very well might have a breakdown, and it's not due to not wanting to have a kid with MC. It's more of knowing that you're not promised forever, as someone who lost their mother. Isaac is going to take it hard. Because she will never get to see her grandchild, and Isaac will never get to have that moment with her. Now onto how they feel outside of that, Isaac will struggle. Because they realize they have something else to lose, and to someone who is afraid of committing due to that it's not an easy situation to be in. They would need reassurance, that this is what MC wants. That they'll work hard, and together will do their best for their child. Isaac wants to be there for everything, every checkup, every milestone. All of it. Proudest parent ever.

🖤 Ardent - The amount of breeding jokes to be told : 14. The amount of tears shed: Over 50. Which he will deny with every breath. They're happy tears. Happy to have a family with MC, happy for his niece to have a cousin to navigate the world with. He is too happy, so cocky. Rubbing MC's belly, giving it so many kisses. He did that, him! Can you believe it? Not to mention, Cupid is going to have to take classes now. That's the first step, Cupid learning how to behave around babies. Ardent is very big into reading, he will overread though. Like MC is going to learn the nitty gritty just like he is. Oh, and they'll probably have to move if they're currently living in the apartments. To a place with an actual yard, the kind his parents had back in Greece. MC will be spoiled, because Ardent will cook every meal. He will ensure MC doesn't have to life a finger, or even Cupid if they feel like they can't. He would be a great dad, plus he has been saving up dad jokes. I apologize ahead of time.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am procrastinating homework and finals studying so I'm making another DPxDC au -- or more accurately, I am making an au of an au. or combining two aus to make a third one, because I am Procastinating And thinking about it.

(the part two for my Danny is Jason Todd au is like,,, half-made and I will get around to finishing it, promiiissse)

So the two aus I had in mind were combining, of course, the two clone aus - the Danny Clone and the Damian Clone au. For folks who haven't seen either posts (or saw one but not the other) here are summaries of both:

Damian Clone Au: The LoA make a clone of Damian Wayne specifically to either kill Damian Wayne and have the clone take his place as the heir to the LoA, or to bring him back. At 6 years old though and through magical teleportation mishaps, Baby Damian ends up in the warehouse district of Amity Park and picked up (and later adopted) by Danny Fenton. They develop a brotherly dynamic with one another.

Danny Clone Au: Danny is straight up a clone of Bruce Wayne, doesn't find out until a year after he has his accident. And, for the fun of it, is also mostly-powerless (he retains his ghost sense and a semblance of a ghost core and signature, but no ghost form). His reasoning for becoming Phantom is because he has walked into the lab watching his parents dissecting ghosts post-portal working more times than he can count. And due to this, changes his beliefs from "ghosts are evil" to "ghosts are sentient and sapient beings who don't deserve this treatment". (masterpost pinned on my blog, its currently incomplete) He is also a little GNC, as a treat. Long-haired Danny ftw. Ellie is a halfa because of the ectoplasm that Vlad used, and also the same age as Danny. They call each other twins and she is viciously protective of him. He uses a baseball bat and brass knuckles that I call 'jawbreakers' to fight ghosts.

Now admittedly, not much probably changes with the combination of these aus other than the potential parallels between Damian and Danny, and Bruce and Damian - and of course, I am always a sucker for parallels. Plus Damian's running off would take Danny finding him much longer, since he can no longer fly, but all the more meaningful because he still took so much time to find him.

(It probably also makes their first meeting different as well - Danny wears a ROTTMNT Casey Jones Jr. esq. mask when he goes out, but Damian would recognize lazarus green anywhere. He'd probably try harder to kill him though once he sees his face, since he knows that its not his father but an imposter.)

It also includes what I consider a hilarious conversation: "Since I'm a clone of Bruce Wayne, does this make me your dad or your brother?" "Don't be an idiot, laeazir." "You didn't answer my question."

The biggest change that comes from this is, of course, the fact that Danny now no longer has a leg to stand on with the "you're a human, I am a ghost" excuse in order to prevent Damian to help him with ghost-fighting, because now Danny is also a squishy, fleshy and fragile human just like Damian. And a human who, arguably, has less combat training than Damian and no powers to make up for it.

Now, Danny in both aus are about 16-17-ish in age, so they've had time to adapt to their new vigilante-hero lifestyle, but its still not the same as Damian's training as an assassin. Damian, unlike in the original clone au, remains insistent on his want to help Danny.

And,,, eventually wears him down after weeks or months of sneaking out after him, helping in fights, interfering, arguing, etc. Danny eventually agrees, exhausted, but he makes Damian promise, promise, that he will be careful and to focus on dodging and distraction. At least until Danny can figure out a safer alternative. He wants him as far removed from the fight as he can, he's a child for ancient's sake, after all.

Which is another issue too - if we follow Damian Clone timeline, then Damian is six years old when this happens. I'll be point blank, I do not see Danny ever actually agreeing to let a literal 6 year old go with him. SO, solution, I bump Damian's age to 7 when he arrives in the Fenton Family, and make him freshly eight years old when he finally gets Danny to agree.

It still SUCKS. He is still very much an itty bitty child, but as someone who has seen the difference between a six year old and an eight year old due to working at a daycare, an eight year old is still... slightly feasible. And an 8 year old assassin even more so (even if he hasn't trained properly in nearly a year or so)

So Danny, reluctantly, agrees to let Damian come with him on patrols.

He ghost-proofs Damian's sword (as he has since learned to do with his bat and jawbreakers), makes him a grappling hook and a Fenton thermos, and reluctantly lets Damian come with in his old LoA uniform that he appeared in (with some tailoring and ghost-proofing, because he has since begun to grow out of the uniform).

(and Danny himself also finally starts looking into alternatives to improve his own "suit" - which is all but a hoodie and reinforced jeans and a hockey mask. He needs to set an example to his little brother, goddammit.)

Then, as they're planning for Damian's eventual (dreaded on Danny's part) debut, they sit in their shared room and brainstorm for what to call Damian. "Ellie already uses the name Spirit." Danny says, sitting criss-cross at his desk with the eraser nub of a pencil chewed between his teeth.

(Behind him he has an investigative corkboard set up -- his accident left him with the ability to see ghosts not capable of being seen on the visible plane. 'Stereotypical' ghosts. Between school work, his social life, and ghost fighting, some of his downtime is spent figuring out ways to help them move on. His most recent is a cold case.)

(Bc with Danny, I loove to have him have some sort of trait that ties him in with his original counterpart. Nature vs Nurture and all that. Investigative work can be part of that.)

"What about Wraith?" Damian suggests from the floor, leaning against the bed frame while he goes over one of his english books. They've been practicing his reading and writing.

Danny furrows his brows. "A ghost seen typically shortly after or before someone's death?"

Damian nods. "Yes, it's of a similar cadence to 'Batman and Robin'."

"What's with you and your thing with Batman and Robin?" Danny asks with a playful half-smile, Damian shrugs and looks at his books. Danny sticks the eraser back between his incisors. "Phantom and Wraith... that works, though."

The first night out together, Danny fusses over Damian, making sure every bit of uniform was secured and in place -- something Damian took mild offense over. His outfit was far more reinforced than the juvenile get-up that his older brother wore.

But he let him fuss anyways. It made him loved.

"Now remember, Wraith--"

Damian interrupts him: "Yes, I know, Dany. Avoid and distract. Stay situationally aware. I fear that is something I should be telling you, however. Mother would have your head if she ever saw what your training was like."

(It was, not for the first time, that Damian wondered how his,,, "mother",,, would react if she ever met Danyal. Not good, he knows.)

Danny's shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I believe that, what with that super-secret spy--"

"Assassin."

Danny sends him a half-hearted chagrined look, "Assassin," he corrects, "organization that made you. I'm sure I'd give your mother an aneurysm." When he's finally okay with whatever make-believe issues he found with his suit, Danny reaches for the nearby side table and carefully slips on a black domino mask over Damian's eyes. It was thin, flexible, and made with some kind of material that Danny reassured was environmentally safe.

("Some kind of matieral that Wayne Industries invented awhile ago, Sam bought it for me." Danny told him when he first showed it to him.)

It was also cold. But the chill was made up for, slightly, with Danny's warmer hands smoothing it out over his skin, and ridding of any ridges that could form. Damian isn't sure entirely what Danyal did to keep it stuck onto his face, but when he touches it with his fingers he feels a very faint seam at the edge, and it doesn't budge against his hands. It felt like a second skin.

"There we go." Danny smiles, pulling his hands back. He still looks nervous. "It's not the same as my hockey mask," which sat atop his head, ready to be pulled down, "but I think a domino mask will work better for you considering your background."

He was right, a hockey mask would only hurt Damian's peripheral vision. This mask was thin enough that it didn't.

"Ready to go, Wraith?"

"After you, Phantom."

+++

Damian has much issue with Danny's suit. He can think of a million ways to make it better. It is one of the things he and Samantha Manson can get along with, and the few times they have spent time together they have brainstormed suit ideas. He knows that since Danny took him on as Wraith, he has started to look into better suit alternatives.

However. They are both aware of the same thing:

Danny is not Batman, nor Superman, nor Wonder Woman, nor Aquaman, or the Flash, or Green Arrow, or Nightwing, or any single hero on the public roster. He is also not rich like Lex Luthor or Vlad Masters or Bruce Wayne himself.

He has no money and no contacts, and thus, no way of properly improving his suit to be something even half as safe as the other supers.

And he refuses to let Samantha Manson help him find a way to fix that - even with all that money, Samantha Manson is on an allowance from her parents, and also, despite her other range of abilities, not capable of getting those materials without putting herself on a list of some sort. They are at a standstill.

Damian knows this, because he has asked.

Until one day when Danny is talking about a case he is working on and telling Damian about old adventures he had in the Ghost Zone, does he see his brother get hit with a lightbulb.

He slaps a hand against his forehead and straightens up from his swivel seat. He huffs a laugh, "Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And he turns on his heel and hurries to his bookshelf, pulling down a notebook and flipping open to an empty page.

Damian frowns, "Laeazir?"

"I know you don't like my suit, Damian," Danny says, striding over to his desk and snatching a pencil out of a cup. He begins jotting something down on the notebook. "And there's nothing I can really do about it because, well, I'm poor in comparison to my facesake, and I don't have the resources to get my hands on someone who would make me a new suit."

"Yes, we have talked about this..." Damian nods slowly, still frowning, and trying to follow his brother's line of reasoning.

Danny shoots him a megawatt, half-tilt smile, his hair tied up into a half-bun. "But! I was thinking about it from the wrong angle. I don't have the living resources to help me get a suit, but..." he trails off, staring at Damian intently.

It dinged in Damian's brain to where he was going, "But you have the undead resources instead." He says, his eyes widening slowly. Of course, of course! Danyal was ridiculously charismatic by accident, and Damian has seen plenty of times where his heart-of-gold had one or two non-hostile ghosts be incredibly grateful to him.

His brother makes a loud, 'ding-ding-ding!' sound, pointing his pencil at Damian as his smile stretches further across his face. In a few quick strides, he was sat down next to Damian and showing him his notebook. "Correct! When I first started out as Phantom a few years ago, I managed to help a ghost who called herself Taylor, and apparently she was a seamstress both in and out of life."

Damian watches as Danny writes the name at the top of the paper, and creates bullet-points down the page. "She said that in return for saving her, I should come find her in the Ghost Zone if I ever need clothes made for me. It's a one-time thing, but I was thinking that she could perhaps help make me a new suit."

Danny turns a bit pink at the ears, and rubs his neck, "I never thought much of it because I didn't think I'd ever go into the Ghost Zone, or ever need ghost clothes, so I forgot about it up until now."

A scoff forces itself out of Damian's mouth, but he is smiling. "Danyal, you are the smartest idiot I have ever met."

For the next hour, both he and Danny make a bullet point list of what both of their suits would need. Reinforcement in certain areas, gauntlets with reinforced knuckles to replace Danyal's jawbreakers. A different weapon than a bat.... a utility belt, reinforced boots. Anything they could think of.

It was Damian's idea to add a cloak to both of their suits, asymmetrical and torn at the edges for a more 'ghostly' look. They have a theme, after all. It's quite fun.

Then Danyal calls up Sam for help in drafting up design ideas. And while Danyal steps mostly to the side when it comes to the design itself, Damian and Sam fill pages with designs until coming up with one they both agreed on and like.

"What about a lightning bolt on the chest?" "Why are we using my traumatic accident as a symbol of my identity?" "Ghosts do it all the time, Danny. Ember sings about her death." "I'm not dead?" "No that won't work, Manson. Shazam already has a giant lighting bolt emblem." "Okay, but I still want to use it somewhere." "How about this?" "...That could work. Okay, now onto your emblem--"

Last was the hard part: getting into the Ghost Zone without the Fenton parents noticing the disappearance of their precious Fenton Specter Speeder. They employed Jazz's help with that. She would get the Fentons out of the house long enough for him and Danny to get into the ghost zone, hopefully find the seamstress, and cash in that favor.

They went through with their plan that following weekend. Danny tossed Damian a small jumpsuit as they both climbed into the specter speeder, but did not grab his own. He had a small duffle bag on him that he threw under the seat.

"What is this?" Damian asks, nose scrunching up at the gaudy picture of Jack Fenton's face square at the center of the chest. He held it far away from it, as if it had a disease.

"Your hazmat suit." Danny replies, settling himself into the driver's seat as the door hissed shut and he began turning it on. He had some sort of gas mask on in his lap, too small to fit Danny's head, but certainly the right size to fit Damian's. "Normally you wouldn't need it since you'd stay in the speeder, but we're both getting out once we find Taylor. It's to protect you from the ectoplasm."

A scowl forces itself across Damian's face, "You don't have one." He points out, finding seat in the passenger chair next to Danny. His arms cross over his chest, and he was not pouting.

Danny looks at him amusedly, "I have enough ectoplasm in my body that I don't need one, you however, do not." He retorts, poking a finger into Damian's ribcage pointedly. "If you don't put it on now, you'll put it on when we find Taylor."

Damian's scowl deepens, feeling petulant as he sunk into his chair. Danny turns back to the console and flips a few more switches. "I will not, it looks ridiculous." He turns it around to show Danny the Jack Fenton Face.

The Specter Speeder hums to life, and there's a moment of turbulence as it lifts off the ground. While it does, Danny turns back to him blankly, stares at the emblem, and then reaches forward and yanks it off with a scriiiiich of the emblem. He crumples it up with one hand, and throws it into a small bin at his feet.

"There, fixed." He smiles. Then turns back to the controls, taking the yoke with both hands. "And I'm calling Dad Rights; you will put it on when we find Taylor or you'll stay in the speeder."

Damian sputters, sitting up incredulously. "You are not my father." He argues.

"Teeechnically, I am." Danny says, "I'm a clone of your father, and since I am fully his clone, that makes you my son by a technicality." He says cheerfully, pushing the specter speeder forward and into the swirling green portal.

Before Damian can retort, they're passing through the portal. This was his first time going into the Ghost Zone, and for a few seconds there was nothing but bright, swirling green filling his vision. His body felt like it was being twisted and pulled, his up and down reversing and returning. It was painless, but dizzying.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like a minute, and when they exit out the other side, Damian is holding his head while his vision spots and swims. Internally, he felt like those cartoon characters when their eyeballs rolled around in their head.

The dizziness fades away slowly, and as Damian regains his sight, he notices Danny's hand splayed over his sternum, gently keeping him pressed against his seat. It fell away when Danny saw that he was alright.

"Put your seatbelt on," Danny orders, nodding to his chair. Damian listens absently, before remembering their conversation before they went through the portal.

"That is not how it works." He scowls, and, annoyingly, only gets a challenged eyebrow raise from Danny. He could see the words written on his face without Danyal ever having to say it.

Because, dangit, he was technically right. Damian refuses to say this aloud. He screws his jaw shut, and crosses his arms back across his chest.

Danny chuckles under his breath, and turns his eyes back to the ghost zone. "My point still stands, either you wear the suit, or you don't leave the speeder."

"Fine."

+++

They eventually find where the seamstress is. Through quite a lot of Danny stopping to ask questions with any friendly ghost he came across, they eventually locate an island with a strange, urban city bustling with life on it. Massive, rocky stalagmites grew from the ground, and buildings were built on top of it or around it, with strange, warping architecture.

It was oddly beautiful.

Danny parked the speeder on the side of the street with a two hour parking sign on a nearby post. As he turned off the engine, he flipped a switch on the console that darkened the windows. He unbuckles his seat, and stood up, stretching out his back with a deep groan.

"Alright, put your suit on. The windows are tinted, so nobody should be able to see into the speeder." He orders, pulling out the duffle he brought in earlier and unzipping it. He pulls out his hockey mask and the hoodie he wore out for patrol, and the notebook they'd been using to jot down ideas for their suit.

Danny even had the hindsight to write in their respective heights, and with Tucker's help, some of their measurements. While he did that, Damian sourly pulled on his hazmat suit, irritated by the need to wear it.

Unfortunately, he also had to wear the boots and gloves for 'extra precaution'. Damian nearly bites out a grumpy 'you're as paranoid as father', but holds his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Danyal that secret.

Once he was done and Danny has his hockey mask and hoodie on, Danny grabs the gas mask and helps fit it over Damian's face. It was a sleek, simple design, shaped similarly to a regular face mask, with little filters on both sides of the mouth and a clear, protective covering around the eyes and forehead. Danyal improved it from the original his parents made.

He was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

Danny checks, then double checks that it the mask is tight, then smiles. Patting Damian's shoulders before standing up fully. "Taylor's shop should be somewhere nearby." He says, grabbing the notebook and tucking it under his arm.

Damian nods, and follows him out the door and onto the busy streets.

Finding Taylor becomes remarkably quick now that they were inside her city - something that Damian silently wondered was based loosely off NYC. Danny kept a firm arm around Damian's shoulders the entire time they walked down the street, keeping the both of them on the inside sidewalk.

Barely anyone passed them a second glance, spare the few odd looks shot at Damian. Danny whispers to him the first time it happens that it's because he has no ghost core, those more attune to their signatures might've been picking up on it.

They didn't notice Danny, because he had one, albeit a weak one.

Taylor's shop has a big sign on it in logographic writing that Damian has no idea how to read. The text shifts slowly, a jambled squiggle of lines, dots, and connected curves that look like a mix of messy cursive, gibberish, and logographic alphabets. He only knows its Taylor's shop because Danny pulls them towards it, stating that it was the place.

"You can read that?" He asks, incredulous as they draw closer to the door. Danny moves his arm off his shoulder, and wraps his fingers around Damian's instead.

"Yep," He replies, then scrunches his nose up, "sort of. It's - uh--" he stumbles over a word that Damian's ears cannot comprehend, but fills his head with slight static regardless. Danny winces. "It's the written form of ghostspeak, but since I'm not a ghost, I can only read some of it. Like uh, dyslexia."

"...I see." Damian says after a moment of silence, trying to replay the word in his head. His mind can't grasp the sound.

When they enter, the door doesn't ding with the sound of a bell, but rather it makes a low scream. Nobody bats an eye to the sound, keeping to their slow search through the racks of clothes.

At the counter was a woman talking quietly to another woman, one of whom Danny recognizes, as he walks over to her.

He doesn't need to say anything, because the woman behind the counter sees him coming, and her face positively lights up with delight. "Phantom!" She cries, and gestures to come over. "I was wondering when in the high ancients you were going to come see me!"

Danny's face is obscured by his mask, but Damian knows he's smiling sheepishly with the way he tilts his head and the way he tenses his shoulders. "My bad, Miss Taylor," he says, reaching the counter and standing beside the woman she was talking to, "It kinda... slipped my mind."

Taylor waves her hand dismissively, "Well you are here now!" She replies, grinning wide. Then her eyes pop open - literally - and she puts a hand over her chest. "Oh, how rude of me!" She turns and gestures between Phantom and the lady next to him, "Miss Mabam, this is Phantom. I told you about him a couple of years ago. He saved me from humans. Phantom, this is Gigi Mabam, she funds my shop. In return I make clothes for her and her staff."

The 'Gigi' woman turns just as Danny does, and smiles wide at him. Damian narrows his eyes at her, shuffling behind Danny legs as he looked her up and down. She had silvery-white hair and purple skin, and wore a darker purple business suit, a red gem cravat at her collar, and teal cat-eye glasses.

There was a lot of purple.

"So this is the ghost-touched you were telling me about, dear!" The woman, Mabam, said. Her voice was rich and low but she spoke in a whimsical cadence. It made Damian's skin crawl, and his narrowed eyes turned into a glare. "I must thank you for saving my seamstress, it would've been quite a fizzy-wink if she had been lost to those ghosty hunters."

What were those nonsense words? Damian hated it.

"Miss Mabam here runs a five-star hotel nearby," Taylor explains, her body turned to Danny, "she also is in charge of the city's Battle Nexus."

Danny is silent for a moment, and his free hand lifts and places itself on the back of Damian's head, keeping him close. "Battle Nexus...?"

Mabam claps cheerfully, laughing low, "Oh yes! Ghosts from all around the zone come to attend and watch as their fellow haunties are ripped from limbity-limb in a blood-curdling battle!"

Danny is still as stone. "I see." He says, careful. Damian wraps his fingers around his pant leg. "Well, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I was hoping to cash in that favor, Miss Taylor?"

"Of course! What do you need?"

Danny looks down at Damian, and he looks up at him, locking eyes with the ominous green glowing from the eyeslits of his mask. He nods, and Danny looks back up. "Do you know how to make suits? Of the protective kind?"

+++

The seamstress it turns out, is capable of such a thing. And she ushers the both of them into one of the backrooms, sending off Mabam with a farewell and a promise to continue their conversation soon.

She flips through their design book, and immediately gets to work making their suits. In the end, with the help of her powers, she gets both done over the span of four hours. It's longer than both Danny and Damian want, but neither rush her.

Damian just hopes that Jasmine can keep the Fenton parents distracted for that long. She will have to.

The suits are better in real life than on paper, and Damian preens from the side in his own custom suit as Danny examines his own in front of the three mirrors. They were both dressed in all black, but whatever fabric Taylor used was of a blackest-black, turning Danyal - and Damian's - bodies into a black hole to look at. Both of them were fitted for agility, with reinforced padding around their shoulders and chests, as well as around the joints of their legs. Their boots were reinforced as well.

("It was hard to make your boots shock absorbent," Taylor explains, "since we all fly, but I applied similar stuff to what I did with your shoulders and chestplate.")

On the side of Danyal's legs were raised, black, lichtenberg-like figures that were contained to the seams and disappeared under his boots. There were similar designs going up his sleeves, with spiked gauntlets wrapped around his lower arm and hands. The knuckles were reinforced, just like he wanted.

Damian's favorite parts were their capes, however. Black like the rest of the outfit, but "wrapped" around their shoulders like an apocalyptic shawl with a back that went down to their knees, and at the hems the capes were torn and ripped like a wraith. Danyal's mask had gone through very little change. It was made of a stronger material, and Taylor had gone and made it more skull-like in its shape, with three large grills at the front, and the sides curving inward below the 'cheekbones' of the skull to better fit his face. It was still shock white, the only white part of Danyal's entire costume.

Damian's suit was almost identical. However, rather than having the seams of his suit resemble lichtenberg figures, the seams of his sleeves and upper torso were that of a black skeleton, with bone-y designs over his gauntlets and the fingers an ombre of dark red-to-black. And around his torso were raised lines that looked similar to a ribcage. The edge of his cloak was splatter a dark red as well. And he had a new domino mask that looked similar to the upper half of Danyal's mask, with the outer edges curved downward over his cheekbones. He was briefly allowed to take off the upper part of his gas mask to try on the mask.

The best part however, was that since the suits were made of material native to the ghost zone, they could also be taken off quickly and hidden in a small artifact. It was magic, is what it was. Danyal chose earrings, and Damian chose a ring.

When they got back to the Fenton house, Jazz demands a box of chocolate for her hard work. Damian thinks that's only fair as Danny takes them both out to get candy for Jazz.

+++

But other than vigilante stuff, not else much changes. Danny gets to pull a "Dad By Technicality Rule" card over Damian when he's being a brat. Danny doesn't have his run in with Rift (a ghost who portals him into Gotham) until after he meets Damian/lets Damian join him on patrol and when they get new suits.

My reason? Because I want it to happen after that point in time lol. It also makes the eventual "heyyyyy you have a clone" @ bruce much funnier to me because not only does he have a clone of HIMSELF but also THAT clone has a clone of Damian living with him.

Also when Danny destabilizes for the first time Damian is terrified for his safety. The fentons are surprisingly good at cloning, Danny hasn't had any issues up until this point in time, and that's only because he got hit with a new gun from Skulker that messed up the ectoplasm he had in his dna, which in term fucked with his own DNA.

Danny's destabilization, imo, is not "I cast you with Melt" he's not Ellie, he's not made of 50% ectoplasm. His parents surprisingly knew what they were doing, and he was human. So his destabilization should be unique to himself and different. Thus his destabilization is "I cast you with Compromised Immune System" his body slowly weakens over time as his cells destabilize. He becomes unnaturally frail and sick. Damian calls Ellie for help when Danny doesn't get up after being hit in a fight that he normally, and Ellie helps figure out that he's destabilizing. This is whats gonna happen in OG clone au too, but Ellie is going to be there rather than Damian.

It makes going to Wayne Manor after that slightly more interesting,,,

[chosos-mascara]

all my love, suguru

chapter 5

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?

chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child

masterlist

⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆

30 months before

"I have something I wanted to talk to you about." You're watching him at his desk as you walk into his classroom, closing the door meekly behind you. The sickness coupled with this anxiety is overwhelming; exhausting. You're roughly ten weeks along, your first scan recently booked for two weeks time, all while Suguru is none the wiser to your current condition.

He's grading papers from a recent mock exam, and it's apparent he's much more interested in the stacks before him than you as his eyes barely rise, the red marker still between his fingers. You sigh. "Suguru, did you hear me?" He looks up from the reports, bags dark beneath his eyes. You pause in your actions as you mull over his expression. "Are you okay?" There's that concern you had for him that night, back again. You wonder if he realises that, too. Or perhaps you were only procrastinating by creating some sort of conversation, though it's better to open with something like this, isn't it?

"Sorry, what's up?" Suguru acts casual, but he can't deny that your visit is just adding to the mounds of stress he feels in this moment. He doesn't have the energy to pour into conversation, he can barely read these student's scrawny handwriting. "I was wondering if we could talk?" You begin to walk closer with some hesitance, stopping at his desk. He looks up at you, and finally puts that pen down.

"What about?" He's nervous. "Well, I just..." You trail off, your chest heavy. Your hands are shaking, even with one placed over the other. They're clammy, and god, you feel so sick. "That night, when we..." Again, you're not able to finish your sentence, instead averting your gaze to the wall and swallowing. "Listen," Suguru stands, and when you look back to him, you frown. "I don't think we should pursue anything." 

You stand in silence for a few moments; he's completely missed the mark. Raising your hands, you shake your head, trying to gesture to him that this wasn't what you'd intended, but it's lost on him when he continues.

"It was a misjudgement, I didn't consider how this could impact our lives, and for that I apologise." You stare wide eyed. You couldn't tell him how yes, this really has impacted your life, because you realise now how wrong this would go. This truly was a secret you'd have to bring to the grave, because you're sure he'd never speak to you again either way.

"You're right, I'm sorry." It's weak, and all you manage to push out.

Suguru feels reams of guilt when he watches your head bow, hearing quiet, defeated words from your lips. He's lying to himself if he truly believes this is for the best, because no one makes him feel quite how you do.

He replays that memory most nights, wondering if he should have given you a chance - he didn't even let you get a word out before he was pushing you away. He spent years wishing he'd done something different, wondering if anything would change if only he'd had opportunity to speak to you again.

He thinks of that memory when he's walking to Yaga's office, opening the door to be met with you.

Suguru thinks he's finally lost it, because why, after two and a half years would you be here, sitting at Yaga's desk like you'd never really left? His hands are brought upward to rub into his eyes, and he blinks once, twice, squeezing them closed before finally focusing back upon your seated frame. You're definitely there, you're definitely real. 

Suguru hadn't even noticed the child sat to your left until moments later, a small doll between her hands, her hair worn in a short ponytail. He doesn't linger over her presence for long though, because he's drawn back to you.

The door had clicked open moments ago and you had prepared yourself for Suguru's berating, though seconds tick by, and no words come. You're still sat in silence beside your daughter and opposite your old boss after a minute's pass, still an empty seat at your right. You know he's shocked by his hesitance to enter, but the suspense is only twisting the knife embedded into you upon his entry. In this limbo, you're left to ruminate on every doubt that had grown over the past few years, on every bad decision you've made leading up to now. 

Finally, after a minute or so of deliberating, Suguru decides to discern the reason for this meeting, and uses his curiosity as encouragement to come and sit in that empty chair.

You've no alleviation from his stare even when he's seated. He's taking you in, the new you, the mature you, still contemplating his sanity as he wonders if you're just a fragment of his madness. There's still an internal struggle while he wonders why you're here, and what this could possibly have to do with him. Suguru does manage to voice a few words through his turmoil, ever downplaying his mental state with his relaxed tone. 

"I thought you left jujutsu society?" 

His voice still feels like honey in your ears, his presence beside you causing your skin to prickle with cold, goosebumps breaking the surface. Eyes that had been glued to Yaga's desk finally lift, and you turn your head to face him after all of this time. Brown eyes greet you, purple bags weighing the skin down. The glint of hope that Suguru could forgive you begins to ebb, your lips tightening. 

"I did." Your answer rings true, at least. Your eyes falter when you can't take his gaze any longer, instead averting to sit at his lips, then shoulders. He looks the same as always, but his aura feels different. There's sombreness to him now, and you blame yourself for leaving. 

"Should we begin?" Yaga clears his throat uncomfortably, and you're reminded of his presence. You nod with deep reluctance, removing your sight from the man that still holds a place in your heart. "Geto," Yaga begins, and you focus on your breaths. This is it, it's really happening. "You're being assigned a special case; a new student." He gestures toward your Keiko, and Suguru leans forward so he can look past you, his emotionless expression interrupted by disgust. 

"She's a toddler?" His disapproval is thick. "Yaga, are you insane?" Suguru remembers the last person assigned to his care, and her untimely death. This was no world for a child, it was barely a world for him, either. Everyone seems to get on with their lives after witnessing tragedies, and he still doesn't understand how. He has never been left unscathed by the things he's seen, but he's sure to handle those massacres better than a child who would stand at his knee's height. 

Yaga peers to you behind his glasses, and you can feel the luxury of your silence ending. 

"She's at risk if she doesn't learn to harness her cursed energy." You speak, praying for his compliance. "I don't want her to get hurt, Suguru." 

Suguru stares at your expression, looking up, and down as he processes your words among the many racing thoughts he houses. Who was this child to you, why would you care? But after all these years he's brewed upon his actions, paired with the fact he can stare into you and see nothing but kindness and care, his objection merges into something else. 

He doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to, because you've already seen it on his face. He'll help. 

"Thank you." Your words of gratitude are genuine, and they're spoken to him with care. It feels a bit like you're the only two people in the room, studying the other with a sense of longing. He swallows back the old feelings that are trying to push through, and turns to face Yaga once more.

Throughout this meeting Suguru glances to that girl, a question pushing the back of his mind. Who was she to you?

Keiko's in bed when he knocks. At first, you're spooked by the sound and your cursed energy is focused into your fist, though looking through the peephole eases your fears. Your flame dissipates, and you open, not sure what to expect from your night-time visitor.

"What're you doing here?" There's a small dip in your voice. "It's late." You try and mask your unease, though he's able to read you like a book.

"That evening, before you left - what were you going to tell me?" 

When you look closer you realise Suguru's hair is loose, strays floating out from his bun, a redness at his ears from where he'd been toying with the lobes. It doesn't take you long to realise what he's referencing, and you open the door wider. You have to accept your fate, that it's now, or never. "Come, take a seat." 

Those are words Suguru didn't want to hear. Since your meeting, he's been asking himself the same question, who is this child? And why should Suguru of all people be summoned to teach her, when he's sure Satoru would've not only volunteered himself, but been better at the job in every way? 

Then he thought about her hair colour, and how he didn't get to catch her face. The timelines, the fact she's staying with you - the pregnancy test. He kicks himself for not questioning you at the time, and for dwelling over these surely disconnected details, until he thought to that afternoon, when he shut you down with haste. He thought about your body language, and how stupid he was to assume that's what you were going to suggest, how self centred he'd been the entire time. 

He sits down quickly with his heart feeling about to leap out of his mouth, a warmth coddling his ears. 

"A few weeks after we slept together, I realised I was late." You start from the beginning as you stand opposite him. You can't look at his face, arms crossed, you stare at his feet. "I wanted to tell you that evening, but you made it clear you didn't want anything else, and I got cold feet." 

His anxiety fades, morphing into a feeling he can't quite place his finger on. It might be that in this moment, Suguru can truly say he's experiencing heartbreak, and the repercussions of his own actions. If he'd have just checked up on you, things would've gone so differently.  "I have a child?" He speaks slowly, unsure of himself. It doesn't feel like it's sinking in, those words don't feel as if they are describing his own life.

"She's yours." Your confirmation sends prickles over his skin. Your things are still mostly in boxes, though there's a photo you've already set out beside the TV, one that you pick up and hand to him. It's you and Keiko, taken on her 2nd birthday. You'd had to celebrate alone, but you decorate anyway, a big '2' balloon within the background. She's smiling, her baby teeth showing while cuddled into your side. It'd taken a while to get a good photo with her, standing your phone on the couch and using the timer function, though after a few you had come out with this one. It was perfect. 

Suguru holds the frame between his fingers, looking at the little girl beside you. She looked a lot like him, the same eyes, the same shade of hair, but she housed your smile. Tears clouded his vision as he wonders how he's missed out on two years with someone he should've been there for, he's missed so much already. 

"Why did you come here?" Suguru asks, a warmth rolling over his cheek.  "She inherited your technique." You swallow. "A few weeks ago, we came into contact with a curse, but before I was able to exercise it, she ingested it, just like you. A few days after that, she was witnessed by a grade three, and we were called upon by the higher-ups." 

"I never wanted this for her, Suguru. I just wanted to watch her grow through normal means - I know it was a lot to wish for, but she's my baby. I can't bare to picture her dead in some ditch after they rinse her of everything she has." 

"I'll refuse to teach her." He's desperate through his tears, mind racing. "Then they'll just find someone else. There's really no point, unless you're really adverse."

"Why couldn't you have just told me?" He talks as if his words are sapping his lifeforce, and you only watch as he slumps forward, heartbroken and confused. That guilty feeling has hit a new high. "Same reason you shut me out after that night - I was scared, and decided it was better to leave than to face what we did." It's wrong to defend your actions, they should be unforgivable. But, Suguru doesn't seem to put much energy into his disgust with you, because he's just too upset. "I've missed out on two years of my child's life, that's not the same." His hands shake, whether it's rage or distress, he can't tell.

"I'm so sorry." You bow your head, ashamed. "I was so scared, please forgive me." Suguru looks up at you, a heavy breath on his lips. It's not as if you hadn't tried to tell him; he'd practically shunned you. It wasn't fair to give you all the blame, even if it would save his sanity. "Do you wanna meet her?"

"Keiko, baby." She's clutching a small bear against her chest when she walks through the door, rubbing her eyes. The small girl's brown hair is a little messy, and she's still in a pair of cutesy pink pyjamas. "I want you to meet someone." You voice to her slowly while holding her little hand, your heart racing. There's no textbook answer when it comes to difficult parenting decisions, and uncomfortable situations. How do you tell a two year old they have a father in which they've never met?

Suguru's reluctant to look at the doorway when he hears you two coming through. This is the biggest moment of his life, meeting his child, his heartrate reflects this in it's unforgiving pace, his breaths leaving him before he's ready to breathe back in. He'll have to count down, he thinks, to force himself to look at his kin - there's no way he can surely meet her eye otherwise. Five seconds and he'll look, four now. Three, and he's sweating, shaking at two, swallowing harshly before he counts one, eyes forced from their spot over the floorboards to flicker up at the little girl standing at her mother's side.

God, it feels like nothing on this planet has ever mattered to Suguru, because in those brown eyes, there's so much innocence. He can feel his heart melt as he recognises so much of himself in her, his DNA, used to build such a perfect daughter with the cutest version of his character. Her huge, wide eyes, cute roundish nose - but her lips are all you. 

This child is a part of him he didn't know existed, a jigsaw piece melded to fit right within his chest. There's some kind of primal urge to protect her at all costs, to hold her closely, which is why Suguru finds himself at his knees with open arms in search of her comfort, to have his forbearing body embraced by his entire world. A child he'd never known is suddenly the key to his happiness, because she is everything he isn't.

"Hi." He wants to say more, yet a million words couldn't describe how he feels. Suguru can't decide on what to say, so instead settles with that small greeting. She smiles at him nonetheless, and you watch as his eyes soften, a smile over his lips.  "Hello." Her voice is small, much like her stature, and she's still sleepy. Suguru puts a hand over her shoulder, and you find yourself overcome with a grin you can't hide. Despite your anxieties, you know Suguru will love her as much as you do.

"Remember I told you about your daddy? This is him." You're gentle, and you're not sure she'll understand entirely, only seeing that family dynamic on films and tv shows. You'd told her a few times she has a daddy, though she's never seemed all too interested beyond that confirmation. Though she stares at him wide eyed, a smile growing over her cheeks. 

"Daddy!" She repeats, and Suguru has to stop himself from breaking apart at that name. When he'd felt hopeless, weak and depressive, so many times he wondered if his existence would ever improve. Whether he'll be anything more than a sorcerer for jujutsu society to rinse, toss into battle and bury when things grew too difficult. He's grown to be Satoru's friend and not much more.

But with this child before him, he sees some form of light. There's a reason for him to keep going, because he doesn't want his girl to feel anything he's endured. He looks to you for the first time since laying his eyes on her, to your watery eyes, and his heart feels disgustingly full. This is what he's been missing out on. 

a/n: sooo this is it. i hope it met your expectations, honestly i really wanted to put more into this ending and i feel i could've done better, but life has been such a whirlwind as of late. i think this is the last post i'll make before finding myself on a hiatus, so think of this fic as a semi-good-bye. thank you so much for all of the love i have received, it truly means the world!

tags-

 @hojoslutoru  @itztamar @magey0412 @strflp  @kaeyakaikai @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zenys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @cephei-ea @dazailover1900

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 10 * mv1

the 2023 season has ended and geri horner has made the mistake of inviting you to a house party where max is in attendance

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: swearing again huhuhu

notes: the real reason i procrastinated this is because i'm a loser and can't come to terms with the fact that this series is ending like HUUUUH

(series masterlist)

(prev)

you stare at the well-lit home, lips pressed together as you debate in your mind how much right you still have to be here. sure, you were personally invited by geri horner despite knowing about the breakup recently like everybody else, but you’re not quite sure if you belonged.

after all, you’re not max’s girlfriend anymore, and this is more of a team party to celebrate the season. you’re sort of out of place.

by the side of the house, you can see the strobing lights reflecting off the walls and the music coming faintly coming through. it’s still early in the evening, which makes you tilt your head in confusion as to why the party has already started.

perhaps someone has already taken over the playlist to start the party earlier than planned by the hosts themselves. something tells you daniel and yuki are already in the backyard in fits of giggles over their music choices.

because you can very clearly make out the high-pitched tone of baby shark playing.

“(y/n)!” a disembodied voice says over the music, a familiar redhead walking on the grass of her front yard with her arms held open wide for you. “i’m so glad that you made it!”

realistically, you were not going to come at all. but when the older woman texted you about a week ago about not forgetting your work commitments within the area like you mentioned a couple of months ago, it was hard to reject her all together.

especially when she expressed to you how much she missed linking arms with you every other weekend with shallow and petty rumours you hear; wine glasses in your hands as your boys did the racing part of the weekend.

just one last hoorah for the better part of the past 6 years you had.

you never really got to thank geri for her neverending and unconditional hospitality all because you were max’s girlfriend.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you mimic her gush, smiling widely as you gladly take her in for an embrace. “i’m sorry i didn’t get to meet you earlier. i was swamped with meetings and presentation preps.”

“oh, don’t even worry about it,” geri laughs, waving your apologies off as she pulls away. “you know, christian promised a cute little performance tonight for the team?”

you raise your eyebrows. every year, christian horner hosts their annual year-end party in his home. and every year alike, he will tease everyone about some performance that he will be doing against his best wishes. they never come.

it gets max excited and giggly at the possibility, only to be disappointed at the end of the day.

“do you know if he will actually do it this time?”

geri links arms with you, hunching as a giggle passes her lips. “he said because you made the extra effort to come tonight, he’ll finally do it just for you.”

no. it’s because this is the last of their parties thrown you’ll ever attend.

when you put it like that, your heart kind of hurts. you had no idea how integral being on the paddock on race weekends was to you. not until today.

you feign a laugh, wiping your palms on your blouse. “tell christian i’m so touched.”

“don’t even worry about it,” geri laughs, squeezing your arm. “come on, let’s go to the backyard where everyone currently is. you arrived pretty early, so i’m guessing you’re not quite used to the organised chaos.”

max was never a diva unless it came to attending parties or being at the paddocks on time. it’s like he had a personal vendetta against coming early.

“yeah, i can hear daniel speaking coherently so that’s always a sign,” you grin, following her across the grass patch to the side of the house. you don’t plan to stay very long.

the reason you came before the actual party started is so that you can avoid max. at least you can tell yourself that you at least tried to avoid regression of all the progress you have made.

as you make your way into the backyard, loud squeals and shrieks slowly come in as you see christian’s kids running around. on the dj table is in fact daniel and yuki attempting a remix of the children’s song as they hype up the girls.

“oh, it’s (y/n)!” yuki throws his hands in the air, jumping off the elevated dj booth. he jogs over to you and immediately throws his arms around you. “i haven’t seen you in so long!”

“yuki!” you squeal, arms wrapped around him as he picks you up, spinning you around before putting you down gently. “i miss the way you cook for me, you know? i don’t quite do it the same as you.”

“i’ll send you the recipes!” yuki beams, pulling away from you. “and then you’ll have to let me try them someday — that’s my only rule.”

"you're the boss," you shrug jokingly, rolling your eyes playfully. yuki taps you on the shoulder politely, answering the screaming kids in the backyard.

he politely excuses himself, jumping onto the dj platform again.

"oh, hey, it's you!" you look up to meet daniel's eyes, the australian taking you into a tight hug as you sway side to side. "i've missed you."

"my god, hey," you hug him tightly, taking a deep breath before letting it out shakily. "i'm sorry i'm so bad at answering your texts! i've just been so busy and totally not in the mood to talk..."

daniel gives her an understanding smile, squeezing her shoulder. "you know, i totally get it. don't sweat it, mate."

"thank you. is heidi coming today?" you ask softly, looking around for the other woman's presence.

"a little later than usual. she's coming from work," daniel explains. he leads her towards a patio table, arm slung over her shoulder as they walk. "so, how have you been?"

"hey, look who decided to arrive!" liam laughs, beckoning the older driver towards the filled table. he lifts his bottle of beer up and sends max a small nod to welcome him. "how nice of you to join us!"

max scrunches his nose. "thank you," he lifts his hand to try and quiet down the cheering from the majority of the table, "no need to clap. i was going to come anyway."

"have you had dinner?" yuki asks, a plate in his hands with some food still. "the food is great."

liam chirps, pointing at the grill near the patio of the house. "lucky for you, there's still food from the barbecue earlier."

max smiles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. he takes the empty seat next to daniel. "if christian's the one who grilled them, i might have to lie and say i've already eaten dinner."

"don't be ridiculous," hannah laughs. "christian hasn't touched that grill as per geri's request for parties like these. you know who does the grilling this time of the year."

max tilts his head. it takes him a while to process, but when he realisation strikes him, he feels his heart sink in his chest. you were here?

he almost wants to just call another uber to go home knowing that he missed your presence at the party. every year at parties like these in christian's home, you're in charge of that grill.

simply because christian gets too caught up in conversation with those around him and only produces near burnt meat. everybody has apparently complained about it for years, but when you came into the picture, you kicked the team principal away from his food duties.

you're much more efficient with the grill, anyway.

hannah's jaw drops when she notices max's silence. she presses her lips together. "oh, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-"

"it's alright," max smiles, dismissing her apology. "i just didn't know she attended."

"attended?" daniel snorts, leaning back in his seat. typically, daniel would never drop a fact he isn't sure you wanted out, but he's very wasted in his defence. "she's still here. geri called her in a while ago."

max's world starts to spin. this could be his chance. the only one left to make things right with you.

in fact, it didn't matter the outcome of the night. he just wanted to talk to you - see you one more time before he calls it quits on the hopes of ever having you back in his arms.

"she's still here?" max perks up, his hands gripping on the armrests of the patio seat like his life depended on it. he looks around the table, at liam, at hannah, everyone, but they don't give him an answer.

they just stare at him, lips parted as max's chest starts to heave from the simple thought of you being a few metres from him. he throws his hands in the air. "guys?"

"yes," yuki spits out, putting his plate on the table. "she is still here. she's inside the house with geri and the kids."

he breathes out shakily, scanning the exterior of the home. he nods, all the while he feels like his body is floating. he never thought he’d ever come by you ever again after everything that happened.

especially with all the rumours that can be taken out of proportion without you talking, it’s all definitely too much.

"oh, i need to talk to her," max says hurriedly, scrambling to get to his feet. he is only able to take one step away from the table when the lights go out and christian's voice is heard on the speakers set up at the dj booth.

he sighs, forced to sit back down again. of course this is the year christian decides to follow through with his promises to perform for the entire team.

daniel sighs, though a sloppy smile stretches his lips. "oooh, christian's going to get down and dirty," he mutters, wiggling in his seat while he giggles with his beer bottle right by his mouth.

that’s when he sees you, running out of the doors that lead to the backyard, surrounded by christian’s squealing and giggling children that sounded above the booming music. your hair is up in a claw clip, your fringe framing your face just as well.

while christian’s performance is something he’s been looking forward to his entire formula 1 career, he can’t help but bask in the overwhelming familiarity that washes over him at the sight of you.

you stop right before the table, the other end from him, hands wrapped around geri’s arm as you watch christian in awe.

his entire world stops then and there, suddenly unsure of how to approach you. will he really be able to handle it if you refuse his apology?

how everything would crumble for him again if he left today without you back in his life the way he wants it? it just seems near impossible.

he watches you throw your head back, laughing before looking around. he tells himself to look away but he just can’t — meeting your eyes a feeling he’s been yearning for all these months without you.

you freeze when your warm eyes meet his blue ones. your jaw drops slightly, the smile is completely wiped off and you let go of geri’s arm. he sees your chest heave as you take a step back away from geri.

your stare lingers, making max contemplate if that was an invitation for him to come to you. but max cannot fathom the glistening of your eyes — are they tears or just the reflection of the lights that surround you?

the music abruptly stops, making you turn to the stage, erupting in cheers as you clap your hands.

he watches you run towards christian, throwing your arms around his team principal as your hands come up to wipe your face.

he watches you talk to him for a bit before you quickly excuse yourself to walk towards the house. here he is with an empty stomach and all the courage in the world.

he runs after you, leaving and ignoring daniel's calls for him to come back and think it over first.

"(y/n)," max calls out into the well-lit house, eyes darting all over the near empty house for you.

your shoes go against the floor, snapping max's head towards the bathroom door. chest still heaving with your fists clenched by your sides. mascara pools under your eyes; almost unnoticeable if he hadn't had you memorised like the back of his hand.

a shakey breath passes your trembling lips as you slowly drop your head. your eyes dart to the group of kids stumbling over their feet to get themselves out of the house.

a small part of all this feels planned. if not by geri, most likely christian. that damned performance was just a ruse to get you to stay longer until max arrived for the evening.

it's genius, actually.

"max."

all of the thoughts that flooded your brain when you locked eyes with him earlier are suddenly gone. something about you never wanting to see him again, or perhaps it was an 'i miss you' threatening to spill out of your mouth now that he's here?

you can't seem to remember and it's only adding to the growing frustration in your chest.

oh, how you've missed being this close of reach to him. if you really tried, you can smell his cologne from the other side of the room and you can almost imagine how his hand would feel in yours.

but you barely recognise the man standing in front of you. the same goes for him, eyes roaming every part of your body as you stand in silence.

it seems so much has changed in such a short amount of time.

you look slimmer than how max remembers you. but you look happier - a state that he has rarely seen you in for a long while. maybe the relationship really was meant to meet its end when it did.

but the tears falling on your cheeks made him convince himself otherwise. maybe you missed him too; maybe these past 2 and a half months were just as excruciating for you as it was for him.

just sitting and hoping on his maybe's again.

"fuck," max says under his breath, finally finding it in himself to walk towards you. "fuck's sake. come here."

a million possibilities run through your mind. as he makes his way over to you, you're frozen in place once more. is this really how it's going to be? after all that process you made, after all the tears.

all those were to only end up in his arms again? you being to wonder: what were all those tears and sleepless nights for if you would only run back to him?

all of your preached rationality ceases to exist when he's a pace away from you, your arms thrown around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck. his grip around your waist is tight, his face buried in your shirt as he lifts you up slightly.

"i'm sorry," max whispers, nuzzling his face deeper into your shoulder, his own tears spilling out of his eyes to the fabric of your shirt. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have let you walk away."

but you shake your head. the mental image of that picture of max and kelly walking in the paddocks flashes in your mind suddenly. you try to unwrap his arms around you, but then he only tightens his arms around you.

"i'm sorry. i should have asked you to stay," he confesses, his mind a mess from all of the things he's thought of saying to you. "i should have told you that there's a way to work it out. it didn't have to come to a breakup."

"but you turned to her anyway!" you say through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath to muster up the courage to pull away. and you do, stumbling steps back as you go into a sob. it would have been all fine if those pictures never leaked. "you went to the one person i didn't want to see you with!"

max's hair is dishevelled, his tear-stained cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen. "what?"

you shake your head and hold a hand up, taking another step away from him. "don't act stupid. i always knew you wanted kelly. you got what you wanted when i broke up with you, didn't you? that's why there were pictures of you together after news of our break-up leaked. isn't it, max? to rub it in my face?"

"you don't even know what you're talking about!" max fights, throwing his hands in the air. "i could say the same for you - wearing the first dress i got you out to the club and leaving with some other guy? your pictures were more suggestive than ours; we were just fucking walking!"

you laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. you wipe your eyes roughly and throw your head back. "at least i can admit if something had happened. but you're still fucking denying every little thing. you're such a cunt, max."

"i'm not denying anything."

"yeah, you are!" you point an accusing finger at him and click your tongue. "you wanted out but didn't want to be the one to rip the bandaid off! what was it, max? some sort of familiarity with me that you couldn't bear to leave?"

"absolutely not. i fucking love you!" max's eyes widen in disbelief at what he's hearing. "nothing happened with kelly - i was doing her father a favour!"

you smile slightly and raise your eyebrow. "i've heard that excuse before, max. go say it to somebody who will believe you."

max rolls his eyes. "you already broke up with me. what do i get from lying to you now?"

"who knows? maybe you just don't like the thought of me moving on," you shrug, placing your hands on your hips. "pretty self-centred if you ask me."

"literally," max takes a deep breath, "just shut up and listen to me."

"literally," you mimic him in the same tone, "there's absolutely nothing to talk about."

you turn around, pushing the hair out of your face. you've stopped crying, your throat sore from all the panting and screaming you've just done. thank god for the music booming outside - your conversation is safe from nosey ears.

maybe christian turned it up when he saw max running after you.

max shakes his head, falling silent. "you've got no fucking idea what you're talking about. i loved you then, and i love you now. if i didn't..."

"if you didn't, then what?" you snort. "you expect me to believe you?"

he takes a deep breath, locking eyes with you. he takes a cautious step forward. "i have thought about you so much since we've been apart. i don't think anything has ever been so clear to me before."

"yeah?" you smile lopsidedly. it immediately drops when he takes another step, and you set it off with a step back. "seemed pretty clear to you when you let me fucking walk out of your driver's room without another word."

max sighs. "i should have fought for you harder that night. i'm sorry."

"then why?" you cry, tears falling out of your eyes immediately. your hands come up to cover your eyes as you break into a full sob. "why didn't you chase after me? why didn't you call?"

you tear your hands away from your eyes, one palm resting on your chest while you heave. "why didn't you text me? why didn't you bother reaching out? you had every fucking opportunity, max! why did you let it get this fucking far?"

max only drops his head in shame. of course, he had his reasons not to reach out to you. "i don't know," he says softly, shaking his head. "i didn't think you still wanted to be with me. you broke up with me. i didn't know what to think. i thought it was over."

"i spent the better part of 6 years of my life with you," you say weakly. a lump forms in your throat, prompting you to close your eyes. you squeak out a sob as you drop to your knees, a soft thud coming from the contact. "and you couldn't even ask me to stay."

you look up at him, teary-eyed as you clutch onto your chest in desperation. "i would have stayed if you said don't go. i waited, max."

he nods, walking over to where you are. he gets dejavu as he drops himself next to you, sitting cross-legged in christian's apartment. it's just like the time you broke up.

you adjust yourself, sitting a proper few centimetres away from him. both of you press your backs against the wall behind you. the music is just as loud as before, consuming the silence that you let fester the air between you.

you drop your head on the wall, the sound of both your cries barely heard within the music between you.

"but i did miss you," you whisper. "every single waking moment in the days after. i kept thinking i made a mistake, and that you knew it too. i kept holding out hope for you to show up at my door, telling me off for being stupid and breaking up with you."

max just looks down at his legs. he claps his hands together, shakily trying to steady his breath as he calms from his sob. "i didn't think you'd want me back. the state of our relationship before we broke up... (y/n)... you're rational enough to admit that that wasn't going to do it for us. we needed the time apart to figure it out."

you smile to yourself, nodding slightly. barely noticeable. you let a moment pass. "nothing happened, by the way."

"hm?" he hums, turning his head to look at you.

"after the club," you admit. "i blew him off at the lobby of my apartment building. i stumbled home and fell asleep on my couch. dress, makeup, heels - the whole shebang."

max smiles. his hand flinches, two voices in his mind fighting over the next course of movement for him. he ought to make the first move once in a while.

he reaches over to you, firmly grabbing your hand. "i'm sorry i didn't know just how much you meant to me. it shouldn't have taken a breakup for me to realise that you're the love of my life."

you smile back at him, squeezing his hand. "i never wanted to break up with you." you drop your head on his shoulder. "i was just so tired. i would look at pictures of us wishing it was that simple again."

he rests his head above yours. suddenly, it all seemed so quiet. you feel your broken bones mending, the lump in your throat disappearing and a weight lifted off your shoulders.

but if it had been this easy, maybe there's something more. something you're not quite getting yet even after spending almost 3 months apart.

"i totally get it if you say no," max whispers, taking a deep breath. he can't go on without trying to make a move himself. you're already right here. "but do you wanna grab dinner some time with me?"

you lift your head, lips parting. you stare at him with wide eyes while your brain goes into overdrive. a million questions run through your head.

is this really for the best? is this a resolution you can live with?

on one hand, if you choose to be with him again, the puzzle pieces can fit the way they used to again. it will be you and him against the world once more - the way it always should have been. but how sure are you that it won't end up in shambles once more?

will you never find yourself in gut-wrenching pain ever again from what seems like the worst loss you'll experience in your life? would it even be worth it?

you take a deep breath, and you squeeze his hand.

ending 1.

ending 2.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever @lokigoeschoki @cherry-piee @telengraph @eviethetheatrefreak @hrlzy

[n0tamused]

*holds u at gunpoint* dr ratio helping u study for an exam/ quiz. Am i going through an exam rn? Yes. Will it stop me from reading ratio fan fics? No

A/N: *points a second gun at you* better watch where you're going cowboy. And felt this so bad, procrastination is killing me too, but Dr. Ratio fics never fail to make me feel something again, delulu is the solulu but only for a moment. Anyway, anon, hope you enjoy this blurpp, I wish you luck on your exams! <3 Wrote this while procrastinating myself, I gotta lock in tomorrow hhhhhhh

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, can be read as modern au, fluff, possible grammar mistakes (I'm about to pass out)

“Here” A porcelain cup slid your way over the polished wood desk. It was a pretty off-white, rimmed with a golden line and another purple one, thinner than the gold. Tea steamed from within, wafting off the soothing floral smell. You sighed, quickly averting your glance back at the books open before you. There were two books, thick and intimidating, and your open notebook you were reading your scribbly notes from. 

Circling around you Veritas’ looming frame cast a shadow over your papers for a moment before he seated himself in the chair next to you, his own cup in hand. “You're still on the same problem as when you started?” He clicks his tongue, nursing a sip of his tea before setting it aside when he appears satisfied. You didn't have it in you to respond, wishing to avoid any form of an outlash, especially taken in the fact you had already told him how you struggled with procrastination for quite a handful of days. He has given his advice, but they failed to make the spark with you last long enough to properly sit and study, and that all caused guilt to claw at your belly from within.

Veritas, on the other hand, didn't seem half as phased as you thought he'd be, at first he didn't even notice how your eyes looked at him in a silent plea for mercy. His amber eyes looked over your notes, at all the scribbles and marked words, letting out a low “hmmm”.

“And tell me, what is it that has you so stumped about this? It's quite an easy equation” he wondered, a little taken aback it was taking you so long on this, yet he had to remind himself that this material was new to you, unlike him who has seen this material countless times over. You weren't dumb, however, so what is it..?

“I.. don't know... The results I've gotten previously make no sense and they do not match the one the professor got in class. His is the right result, and I don't get how every time I did the problem, I got a different result” you began, voice initially quiet as if begging his ears to become deaf to your words, but your plea went unanswered. His keen eyes regarded you with a strange curiosity, his chin leaning on his hand.  Only now did he realize how tense you looked. He blinks at you owlishly, studying your features for a brief moment before turning his gaze back towards the papers. “That is a problem.. Where is the formula your professor used? Do you have his equation as a whole written down here?”

You looked at him and then at the papers, eyes flickering all across the written words and printed text.  “I.. I do.. Yes, why?”

A scoff came first, “Why, so I can take a look at it so I can help you. You did ask me to help you, did you not?”, then his large hand picked up the pen you had abandoned on top of your notes, motioning for you to show him the notes. “We can go step by step and then compare the progress to see where your problem lies” 

Nodding, you were quick to breeze through the old notes, paper pages fluttering as you went over each one until finally reaching a page so full of equations it made your head hurt. With your finger you point to the one you were currently trying to figure out. “This one.. This is just a copy of what the professor did on the white board.. and this is the formula he used '' you showed him, letting him slide the notebook to his side of the desk when his fingers pinched the corner.  

Silence engulfed the room, and for a long while you could only watch as Veritas’ expression changed from focused, to confused and then to frustrated. 

“Are you sure this is what the professor wrote down? This is entirely incorrect. The formula alone is wrong, and the process of his calculations is just abhorrent.. What is this-” he slightly nudged the notebook away from him, offended by its contents, to say the least. 

Like a little wet rat, you held your hands together, feeling guilty for all reasons you shouldn’t, a pout playing about your lips as you nodded. “Yes.  That is what the professor wrote! One of my colleagues even took a picture at the end of the class since she was too lazy to write it all down herself, so I know for a fact I didn’t copy the notes wrong” you rushed to explain as your eyes glared at the offending problem. 

“That is ridiculous” Veritas grumbled as he opened the big math book a few pages back from where you had opened it, searching for the formulas, and pointing towards one he softened his tone. “This formula should have been used in this problem. It is similar, yes, but the functions can’t be any more different from what your.. professor used” looking down at your notes and at the problem afterwards, he sneered, seeing that the formula was used once again in the next equation. “I don’t know what your professor was thinking, but repeating the same mistake twice is beyond ignorant..” 

“What..? So..? So he is in the wrong?”

“Yes. Now.. show me the way you did it. And do it with this formula I just showed you” Veritas instructed, his nose scrunched up in disgust, although none of it was directed at you but rather at this person he didn’t even know. Perhaps he should go and meet him, just to see the face of ignorance and negligence in human form. 

Following his advice, you did as he asked, working on the problem with Veritas sitting at your side, his eyes occasionally flickering to the remaining problems that would follow this one.

“There… Is this right..?” You pulled back to allow him a better view of your writing, and it didn’t take the brilliant Veritas Ratio too long to check that you were - in fact - right.  His face eased slightly from its previous tension, sighing he gave a nod of satisfaction and acknowledgement. 

“That’s right. Well done” Veritas says, voice significantly softer as he addresses you, before turning sharper once more. “I knew something was wrong when you got stuck on this for so long. You managed to solve all those problems I gave you yesterday, which are arguably much harder than this and much more complex with extra steps.. Hmph, can’t believe someone didn’t point out this error in your professors work” 

Veritas leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest in a comfortable fashion in which he usually sat around you, his whole composure softening, but through and through, it was the Veritas Ratio you always knew. Hope lit up in your eyes at the unraveling of this problem that nearly had you sick to the stomach for this whole day.

“So..I know this?..Does this mean I won’t fail..?

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course you won’t! You’ve got me to teach you, and let me be damned if you fail”

A victorious cackle left you as he said so, feeling free of the clutches of madness this exam has put you into, and as to celebrate you all but flung yourself onto Veritas, hugging him.

The sudden embrace surprised him and made him stutter, but his arms were quick to find their place around your body, scoffing, even as he tucked his face into your shoulder.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.