#ask me questions! i love answering questions

[fastandcarlos]

The Fan Meet : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: it's your one chance to meet and make an impression on max verstappen, but not even you could imagine what happened next

His smile was wide as Max glanced along the line of Red Bull fans who were waiting at the signing. It just so happened as he looked, you were at the front of the queue, lost in your own thoughts as you stepped forwards and were greeted by Yuki. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Yuki smiled, taking the photo that you had in your hands that you had been given for them to sign. “I hope you’ve not been queueing for too long.” 

“It was worth it,” you chuckled, struggling to stay composed, especially as you heard Daniel’s laughter coming from the seat next to Yuki. “I’m a huge fan of yours by the way, you’re one of the funniest drivers on the grid, especially all your radios to the team.” 

“Some of them are pretty embarrassing looking back now.” 

Your head shook, “it’s what makes you such a good character to have.” 

Yuki smiled appreciatively back across at you, signing over his face on the picture. Once he had the lid back on his pen, he slid the picture to the next driver along. Your heart raced as you stood before Daniel, struggling to believe that it was really him stood before you. 

Daniel quickly signed the photo before smiling across at you. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, I’m sorry that you had to see Yuki before you got to see the real main event.” 

“Really? Because I’ve not actually seen Max yet.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened for a second at your joke before chuckling, impressed that you were able to give back to him as good as he gave out. He nodded as he applauded you, reaching out with his fist, giving you a fist bump in admiration of your joke. 

“I’ll give you that one, although I’ll admit I’m a little bit hurt I’m not your favourite.” 

“You’re my second favourite if that counts for anything,” you assured him. “I have to say though, I’m really hoping that we’ll see you in a seat next season.” 

“You and me both,” he agreed, letting go of yet another of his signature chuckles. “Thank you for supporting me, hopefully I’ll be able to see you cheering me, and Max, on in a race soon.” 

You hummed in agreement as you moved across yet again, glancing to your right where Max was sat, almost forgetting that Sergio was now before you. “Yet another signature for you to do.” 

“I don’t mind it,” Sergio chuckled at your comment, signing your photo for you too. 

You were unaware that your sarcasm hadn’t just reached Sergio, but the man sat beside him too. Max’s eyes flickered across to see who made the comment, smiling when he realised it was you, the one he had spotted earlier on stood at the front of the queue. 

Unbeknownst to you, your conversation with Sergio wasn’t just between the two of you, with Max listening in too. His smile was wide as you gushed to Sergio about how big of a Red Bull fan you were, impressing them both with your knowledge. 

“You guys don’t deserve the hate that you get,” you suddenly told Sergio. 

“When you’re as talented as we are, you tend to be able to ignore what everyone else is saying.” 

Your eyes lit up at Sergio’s response, it was clear how well the boys had all been trained, knowing the right answer to give to shut down most questions. As you went silent, Sergio signed your photo before signing it across for Max once you were there.  

“I’m going to put you on the spot now, who’s your favourite driver?” Sergio asked, looking across at you expectantly, folding his arms across his chest. 

You looked briefly at Max, noticing how his eyes slightly panicked, moving to look back at the fan in front of him. When you looked back at Sergio, you could only offer a weak smile, a smile that let him know that he most definitely not your favourite driver on the grid. 

“You’re a close second,” you very quickly defended, “but I’ve got to say that the man next to you might just take the number one spot, only because he’s been at Red Bull for longer though.” 

Sergio nodded, understanding where you were coming from. “I guess I’ll let you have that one, I’ve just got to stick around for longer and make sure that I catch him up, right?” 

Your steps were nervous as you moved along, struggling to believe as you looked up that Max was the man before you, struggling to bring yourself to meet Max’s eyes. 

Luckily for you, Max had a wide smile on his face too that immediately made you feel a lot more relaxed. Max signed over the Red Bull card that you had before leaning over the table, sitting himself closer to you. 

“Thank you for coming to see us today,” Max chimed, making you feel at ease. His voice was softer than you imagined, although he’d probably spoken to hundreds of people already, he still managed to sound so enthusiastic. 

As you relaxed, you allowed your eyes to meet Max’s. “Thanks for being such an awesome driver,” you responded, unaware of the way your comment made Max’s heart race. 

“It’s easy being a good driver when we’ve got such great fans,” Max responded, unable to turn his eyes away from you. “We’ve got some great people around who are always cheering us on.” 

As the conversation seemed to quickly came to a close, Max quickly thought of something else that he could ask you, not wanting to let you go just yet. You went to go and pick up the photo so that you could head off, but Max held onto it first, his grip firm so that you couldn’t slide it out from underneath his hand. 

Your eyes narrowed on Max, looking in confusion as to why he wasn’t letting you go. “There’s a queue behind me,” you reminded Max, only for his shoulders to shrug. He wasn’t fussed about holding everyone else up, not when he wanted to carry on talking to you. 

“They can wait,” Max replied, taking you by surprise with how much he didn’t care. “It’s important that we give you an experience to remember, not just say hi and goodbye again.” 

“Well, I appreciate that,” you replied, your voice still full of nerves. “I’ve been to these things before and the driver never really gave me the time of day, I wondered why I bothered.” 

He didn’t pay the same attention to every fan, but there was something about you that had him. Under the table, his leg was bouncing as he tried to stay calm, relieved that you couldn’t see how nervy Max was. 

As Max continued to talk, you were disturbed by the feeling of staff standing closer towards you. You knew that you had exceeded your time, but Max still kept talking, not paying any attention to the warnings that the staff were sending him that he needed to cut things off. 

Finally, as one of the senior staff members whispered into his ear, Max nodded. He turned the photo around and wrote on the back of it, handing it back to you once he was done. “Don’t look at this until you’re somewhere safe,” he carefully instructed. 

“I can do that,” you smiled, placing the photo into the pocket. “Should I be worried about what it is that you’ve just done?” 

“Not at all, I hope you’ll love it in fact,” Max chimed, waving goodbye to you as you walked away from the table. 

You darted through the crowd of fans as you headed back outside, finding a spot where you could sit alone. You pulled the photo out of your pocket, turning it around to see what Max had written, unable to hide the smile on your face as you did so. 

It was lovely to meet you, my fans are special, but you just had such a spark. I’ve attached my number, if you want to meet again, just the two of us, just give me a call. Max x 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware Sylus x Down-bad!Player

Sylus becoming aware he is a character in a game and now he’s aware of you as well. A modern day Romeo & Juliet story here …. A tragic love story A/N: Don’t fight me [Requested by: Anon]

Self-Aware!Sylus who realizes he’s in a game when he can sense your energy on the other side of a phantom wall. He can hear you squealing when he calls you honey and you're radiating happiness when you send him random emojis.

Self-Aware!Sylus who finally sees you when he happens to be looking around during a photoshoot and sees your shocked face when he makes eye contact. He smirks and turns back to the in-game version of you. “Why are you out there?” You dropped your phone and stared at it in shock. Did Sylus just ….. talk to you? You muttered a low ‘Hello?’ but got no response. You brushed it off as you just being tired and on the game too long.

Self-Aware!Sylus who manages to create a keyboard in your chat so he can actually text you. You were so confused when you opened it and it allowed you to type without just pressing a prompt. You gave it a spin with a quick ‘Hey Sylus’ something simple. Of course the message was read immediately and he replied with a ‘Hello [your name]’ you stared at the screen in shock not knowing if this was a new update or if you were just going crazy.

Self-Aware!Sylus who chuckles when he sees you pouting because you didn’t get his card so when you close the app and lay down he gifts you the card himself. You opened the app and the first thing Sylus says to you is “I don’t like seeing you sad, check your memories I left a gift for you”. When you open your memories you see that you not only got his most recent card but all of his five star memories. “What's happening here?” “You’re smile is so captivating I just had to see it again”

Self-Aware!Sylus who opens the app randomly throughout the day so he can see you “I haven’t seen you all day what are you doing?” causing you to snatch your phone off the table because he always seems to catch you when you’re at work or around a group of people. “Sylus I'm at work I'll call you when I get off” he crosses his arms and seems to be pouting? “I don’t like how much you have to work I don’t see you as often” “Well not all of us are billionaires some of us work for said billionaires to make a living” “I wish I could take care of you….” “You and me both”

Self-Aware!Sylus who teases you when he wins a game of kitty cards or who uses his evol to get every stuffed animal for you when you get frustrated. “You sure do wear your heart on your sleeves sweetie”

Self-Aware!Sylus who stares directly at you when you’re doing a photoshoot with your in-game MC “Sylus focus on her so I can get the picture” “I want to focus on you though” “She is me” “…..she’s not”

Self-Aware!Sylus who tells you not to fall in love because he’s not real, but he falls head over heels in love with you anyway. From the late night conversations of you explaining your world to him and just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He can’t help it one night when you’re up late on the phone as always he just has to ask “Do you love me?” you’re shocked by his question, but swiftly answer with a shy “Yea I do”

Sylus: I thought we agreed not to fall in love Y/N: I was already in love you just noticed late Sylus: I believe I fell harder You giggled as something somber settled in your chest. Y/N: We’ll never truly be together you know? Sylus: I know and yet I continue to long for you …. I wish I could kiss you Y/N: I wish you could too…..

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[no-144444]

hi! i love your blog and i know this is kind of weird but just hear me out. do you remmeber the 'anything but f1' thing they did this year? what if oscar's topic was his girlfriends career and she was like a huge superstar on broadway and on the screen? and he like knew EVERYTHING and answered every question perfectly?

i hope you like this idea, if not, that's totally fine.

thank you ml xxx

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knowing me, knowing you- o.piastri

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a/n: thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long :)

summary: i suggest you look at the ask...

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

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Oscar was too warm and tired for this. He stood in front of a camera, smelling like hairspray and some sort of spray the makeup artist had put on his face, while he was asked all of the ‘Grill the Grid’ questions. 

“That’s it for ‘Grill the Grid’,” she explained. “But this year we have a new segment.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, his interest piqued. 

“Yeah, it’s called ‘Anything but F1’,” she smiled. “Your topic is Y/n Y/l/n’s career,” she chuckled. 

Oscar smiled. “This is going to be easy.”

“Will she kill you if you don’t get full marks?” she laughed. 

Oscar pondered. “Probably not?” 

“Alright then. Ready? Pressure is on.”

He nodded. 

“What was Y/l/n’s first role on Broadway?” 

“Matilda,” he nodded. Y/n Y/l/n, his girlfriend, you, also an EGOT winning actor, the youngest there’s ever been. 

“Correct! How old was Y/l/n when she made her Broadway debut?”

“Well, she was 8 in Matilda on the West End and did 2 years of that, so 10?” he answered. 

“Correct! How old was she when she played Sally Bowles, making her the youngest to have ever played her on a Broadway stage?” 

“She was 17.”

“Correct! How old was she when she got her first Tony?” 

“11 years old.”

“Correct!” she smiled. “What Disney princess did she play?” 

“Huh?” he questioned, not knowing that you’d voiced a disney princess. “She’s voiced a Disney princess?” 

She nodded. 

“In a Disney film?”

She nodded again. “Think about it.”

“Does she sing in it?”

“The princess does sing,” she explained. “But Y/l/n did also write a song for it.”

Oscar was stumped. “Can I come back to it?” 

“Sure,” she shrugged, moving on to the next one. “What was her first feature film?”

“Lés Mis,” he answered. “She played Cosette.”

“Correct! What happened at the 2013 oscars?”

Oscar chuckled. “I think Jennifer Lawrence fell over and took Y/n with her?”

“Correct! What is her most streamed song?”

“Does this include recordings she was a part of or just her solo career or the band too?”

“One of those is fine, but if you can give me an answer for all though, we’ll give you an extra point.”

“So,” he started explaining. “Y/n’s most streamed solo single is probably American Teenager, her most streamed band single is probably BABY SAID, and her most streamed cast recording was probably Wicked, or Hadestown.”

“Correct, and it is Wicked.”

As he explained his answers, his trainer and others in the room started to laugh. He knew everything about you. He was so down-bad it was almost embarrassing, but they understood it anyway. You’d been together since you were 14, you were 23 now. You get to know a lot about a person in 9 years, especially from teenage years to being a young adult. 

“What record did she break by winning an Oscar in 2018?” 

Oscar smirked and winked at the camera. “She’s the youngest person ever to gain an EGOT.”

“What school did she teach at in her early years?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “How old was she?”

“Ages 8-12, she taught here on and off, and not many people know about it since she didn’t go into that field of the arts.”

He groaned, trying desperately to think. “The Royal Ballet in London!” He exclaimed, finally remembering. 

“Correct! Next question, how many Tony awards does she have?”

“Oh shit they’re on the mantel at home…” he muttered to himself, trying to count them in his head. “5?”

“Correct. Who has more trophies?”

Oscar chuckled. “I have more trophies, but she has more awards.”

“Alright, how many Emmys does she have?”

“1, which she won this year for her role in the Bear.” 

“Correct, how many Broadway or West End shows has she been a part of? You get a bonus point for naming them all.”

“Oh alright, so Matilda, Annie, Into the Woods, Hamilton, Heathers, Spring Awakening, Mamma Mia!, Moulin Rouge!, Cabaret, Six, Parade, Hadestown, Chicago, Wicked, and right now she’s doing Lés Miserables for the first time on a stage,” he explained. “So that was… 15?”

“Just one more?” she hinted. 

Oscar’s face fell. “What? What else has she done?” he asked out loud. “I said Wicked?”

She nodded. 

“Did I say Mamma Mia!?” 

She nodded. 

“Did I say Phantom of the Opera?”

“No, you didn't! Congratulations, bonus point awarded. What has she said is her dream role?”

He took a deep breath. “It’s going to be really bad if I get this wrong, isn’t it? Alright, so, she has always wanted to play Ms. Honey in Matilda,” he watched as the interviewer shook her head. “Shit, alright. Any hints?”

“She said it would be the only way to get her back into a specific show,” she hinted. 

“Oh! Emcee!” he cheered. “God, how could I forget that?”

“Well done! Alright, one final question, what song did she sing at the 2023 grammy awards, where she debuted her first single after ‘LISTEN’, her band, went on hiatus?”

He smirked. He was there for that performance. He was sitting in the crowd as you sang. He got to take you home and congratulate you. He got to be the proud boyfriend all night. He loved it. It was one of his most fond memories. “She sang ‘That’s So True’. I was there.”

“The infamous kiss picture,” she winked at him. He nodded, a smug smile on his face. “So, going back to the other question, what Disney princess did Y/l/n play?” 

“Oh shit yeah, it was animated, yeah?”  

“Not necessarily,” she hinted. 

“Ariel!” he exclaimed. “Ariel, of course!”

She chuckled. “Congratulations, you know the most about Y/n Y/l/n’s career out of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“One would hope,” he chuckled.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[insertdisc5]

Hey! so Ima be honest... its taking awhile for me to write this, really because I'm nervous of what you'll say, but! I have an important question I have to ask because I couldn't find it if it was in the FAQ(s)… but! May I please make a fan-made isat ttrpg? I really like the game and story and would like to make a little love letter to it! I'm not that far with it and have only written only like 3 things for it and already have the character sheets halfway done, but I would love for your input if you do allow me! I just want to make something fun!

you don't have to answer if you don't want to! but I would really like to do this! Ever since I found isat through youtube, I've been obsessed with its characters and its world!

Much love! - The Collector

ok so as of now my Stance on fangames/mods/whatever is:

-if it's an rpgmaker game, go right ahead and make a fangame, but do NOT use the original game's assets. make up your own portraits and pixel character sheets! (you can use the environment pixel art because otherwise that'd be a whole lot of work lmao).

(red outline = dont use em. icons and battle animations etc are fair game)

-if it's a mod for another game (like that slay the spire ISAT mod I saw a while back), go right ahead, and you CAN use the original art for it!

my reasoning is, I don't want people to look at a fangame that's on rpgmaker and looks exactly like the original game, and for people to go "omg isat sequel" or whatever

and of course "don't make money off of any fangame/fun cool thing" as always, because, uh, common sense lol

[yelenasdiary]

Little Spidey

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Spider-Woman! Reader

Summary: After coming home from a long mission, you struggle to accept a little shift in your relationships. 

Angst, Comfort, Fluff

Warnings: Brief mentions depression & loneliness | 1.3K

AC: Wrote this for my good friend, @scarletwidowblackwitch ! so sorry it took me forever to get this one out for you! I hope you enjoy! x 

Your apartment was quiet while you lay in bed staring at the roof, usually your roommates, Peter and Kate would be making so much noise that a sleep in was almost non-existent in the small apartment. The time on your phone reading, 10:16am reminded you just how hungry you were. After getting home rather late last night, sliding through the door without making a sound, careful not to wake your roommates, you took a shower and fell as the second your head hit the pillow. 

You wandered into the kitchen, the two friends of yours leaving it how they normally did. Their breakfast dishes in the sink, crumbs from the cereal box on the countertop along with some small droplets of milk. You shook your head with a soft, amused smile on your lips as you reached for a wash cloth to clean up after them. 

After breakfast, you showered and gave your suit a quick steam before you picked up your phone, the weather was beautiful today, the sun kissing the city of New York with its warm touch made you think about a nice catch up with you a friend or two in Central Park. You called Wanda first, knowing just how much she loved getting a latte and some fresh air but your call went to voice mail, maybe she was on a mission you thought. 

Next you tried your roommate, Kate but no answer then you tried your luck with Peter. 

“Hey, Y/n, what’s up?” The young adult happily asked. 

“I just wanted to know if you were busy? Thought we could grab a smoothie and hang out?” You replied. 

“Wait, when did you get back? I thought you were still on that big job?”

“Uh, last night. I didn’t want to wake you or Kate, so I was pretty quiet” you lightly chuckled. 

“Welcome back! I would hang out today but Tony’s got me doing training in this new suit he made me, can we do a rain check?” He questioned with doubt in his voice. 

“Of course, let me know whenever you’re free” you did your best to sound unbothered before Peter said he’d text you before hanging up the line. You let out a light sigh before you checked the Avengers app that Tony created to keep up with who was on missions and to no surprise, Natasha was on a mission, Bucky was on a mission, Steve was with Bucky, Sam was booked for training, Tony was with Peter and Kate was with Clint on someday training trip. With that information, you tossed your phone on your freshly made bed and decided to go to the gym for an hour or so. 

As the days went by, you couldn’t help the negative thoughts that dawned on you. Almost everybody had returned from their missions and were staying at the compound to catch up on mission reports. You joined them all at the compound but the quietness that you woke up too days before still lingered. You wondered if you were annoying those around you, your text messages went unread, or you only got short replies back. Plans to catch up went abandoned leaving you alone while your insecurities dawned on you. 

A week has floated by you while you did your best to keep yourself distracted from the loneliness that crept into the apartment, your roommates barely coming home for more than a nights sleep. The apartment still quiet over your favorite playlist that played in the background, nothing on the streaming apps seemed interesting enough to keep the silence from becoming louder at night. Rubbish from your favorite almost overflowing the bin in the kitchen reminding you to take it out in the morning. 

You were getting yourself ready for bed when you heard a knock at the door, you couldn’t help but sigh lightly thinking it was probably the elderly neighbor with some gossip of yet another delinquent hanging around, suspiciously. You opened the door only to be met with the familiar green eyes and locks of red hair that you had missed dearly. 

“Y/n! you’re back?!” Beamed Natasha as her eyes lit up, “nobody told me you were back, and I lost my freaking phone” she adds. 

You give her a weak smile, knowing she probably wasn’t even here to see you in the first place. “I guess everybody has been busy, are you here to see Kate or Peter?” You asked causing Nat to frown slightly. “I needed to speak to Kate about something, but I don’t care about that, it can wait” she replied, giving you a soft smile, “my detka is home” she added. 

The pet name getting the better of you as you felt your cheeks get warm. Natasha wrapped her arms around you and gently pulled you in for a hug, “I missed you so much” she said in an almost whisper. You felt yourself practically melt into her hold, missing the way her arms always felt like home. Her dark rose scented perfume leaving its mark on your clothing, a smell you forgot just how much you missed. 

“Why don’t you come stay at mine tonight?” Your girlfriend asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes ones more. Her highly trained skills to read people never failed her when it came to you, she saw past the weak smile and the sadness in your eyes no matter how much you thought you were good at hiding. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a burden” you confessed to the widow. 

“A burden? Honey, you could never be a burden. Besides we both know I have the best fluff blankets” She says, gently cupping your face before planting a soft kiss on your lips, “and maybe you can tell me what’s got my little Spidey so down” she adds. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle ever so lightly at the nickname, “are you sure?” You asked, needing reassurance. 

“Detka, if you think I’m leaving you alone, think again” she smirks.

“Let me go pack my overnight bag, come in” you smile softly as she walks in, closing the door behind her. 

“Why don’t you pack a little more than just one bag?” The widow suggested. 

You stopped in your tracks halfway down the hall, turning to face her once more, “Nat, I can’t just leave without telling Peter and Kate” you reply, “Rent is due next week, it wouldn’t be fair” 

Natasha shrugged, “I’ll cover it and I think they would understand but if you’re not ready for that step it’s okay, I can wait” 

You took a moment to think about her idea, you wanted nothing more to be able to spend more time with your girlfriend, especially after being away from her for so long but the guilt of leaving your roommates so suddenly dawned on you. “I would love too but I really, really don’t want to be a burden on you just because I’ve had a few lousy days” 

Natasha, walking towards you reached out to hold your hand, “it’s not a burden to spend your life with somebody you care about. Change can be scary, but we all need it. Peter and Kate can find another roommate if they want, they’ll be okay. I really just want to share everything moment with you” she says, looking into your eyes while silence filled the room for you to think a little more. 

“I guess I could talk to Kate and Peter tomorrow” 

“That’s my little Spidey” Natasha smiles, “now you’ll be able to hear me complain about my cooking every night” she adds with a playful wink causing you to chuckle once more. 

“Don’t worry Romanoff, I won’t let you burn the house down” you reply as she wraps her arms around you once more, “oh come on, the kitchen caught on fire once” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“Once is more than enough” you smile before her lips find yours again.

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[daisymbin]

[10:47] - choi seungcheol

warnings: reader referred to as "mommy", this is fluff please lets not be perverted 🙄😹

check out my masterlist!

“appa!” your 4 year old called in a small voice.

“yeah, sweetheart?” seungcheol glanced up from his phone, his attention fully on her now.

“who do you love more? me or mommy?” she asked, her tone curious but a little serious, as if this was a big question.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a playful smile. “what kind of question is that?” he teased, holding his arms out to her. "you know i love the both of you very much!"

“but who do you love more?” she asked again, her voice insistent, as if she really needed to know the answer.

he thought for a moment, looking down at her tiny face. "well," he said as he picked her up & settled her on his lap, "i love you so, so much, my little sunshine, but mommy... i think i love her just a tiny bit more."

her eyes widened as she processed this, her little lip jutting out into a slight pout as an immediate reaction. oh, she's definitely his daughter, alright. "why? why do you love mommy more?"

"because," he said, leaning down and pulling his 4 year old onto his lap, "mommy’s my partner, my best friend. we’ve been through so much together, and i love her in a special grown-up way. we've been together for years! without mommy, we wouldn't be here."

"we?" she asked.

"yes baby, you wouldnt be here if mommy hadn't been my best friend & partner, & I wouldn't be happy like i am today! can you imagine your loving, handsome daddy being sad, crying and alone?"

she sat there for a moment, clearly deep in thought. then, her frown softened, and she gave him a big smile. “but you still love me a lot, right?”

“of course i do,” he replied, ruffling her hair. “i love you more than anything, you’re my sweet little girl.”

she nodded eagerly, her pout completely gone now. “okay, daddy, i love you too!”

seungcheol grinned playfully, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "really? who do you love more? me or mommy?"

she paused, giving him a serious look before bursting out laughing as she looked up at you as you stepped in, "mommy!!!" she screamed

seungcheol laughed along with her, squeezing her a little tighter as he realised 2 things.

1: he can't tell if his daughter was answering his question or greeting his wife, but seungcheol tells himself, sometimes, it's better not to know.

& 2: he can't lie, even to his own daughter. he just loves you so much.

[pitchsidestories]

wouldn't change a thing II Ona Batlle x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1415

a/n: dear readers, we hope you'll enjoy the oneshot which is inspired by this lovely request here. 💗💗

Being relatively tall for a woman had its advantages, you had to admit. Especially when you played for Barcelona and their dressing room wasn’t designed for the average female body height.

In contrast to your several inches shorter girlfriend, you could reach all the shelves with ease.

But you and Ona had established a routine by now. After every training, she would wait for you to hand her the towels, so she didn’t have to climb up on the bench to reach them.

You had decided that the injury risk was way too high and offered to do it for her. Your height had to be good for something.

As usual, you also handed her the towels after todays’ training as well: “Here you go.“

“Thank you.“, Ona smiled and pushed herself against you for a hug.

“You’re welcome.“, you replied as you held her close to you.

You pressed a quick kiss to her temple as she was the perfect height for it and brushed a few stray hair from her forehead.

Mapi giggled from the other side of the dressing room: “You’re too tall for your girlfriend, y/n!”

You grimaced at the defender: “If that’s the case, then Ingrid is too tall for you too.“

“I can reach my own stuff.“, Mapi shrugged.

“So can I but sometimes it’s just easier that way.“, Ona replied unimpressed and threw the towel over her shoulder.

Alexia joined the conversation, a sly smirk on her face: “Oh please, everyone knows that Ona loves the princess treatment.“

“She can’t get enough of it.“, Aitana agreed with a laugh.

Ona rolled her eyes, way too used to their teasing: “Guys.“

“Yeah, it’s not that funny.“, you sided with your girlfriend.

Mapi shook her head, still grinning: “I think it is.“

You sighed: “Of course you do.“

You knew what was coming. As soon as one started, the others would join immediately. It was some kind of weird Barcelona Femeni love language. You quietly braced yourself for the bad jokes that would inevitably be coming.

“Are you even allowed to wear heels when you go out with Ona?”, Cata asked. She was already wheezing about her own joke.

“You’re definitely more likely to see me in heels than Oni.“, you smiled back at her. Ona loved her sneakers, you loved a good pair of heels, height difference or not.

Cata continued: “Poor Ona is even smaller then. But at least you two don’t bump heads when you go dancing.“

“But I always find her in any crowd.“, Ona shrugged, winking at you.

“And Ona is the perfect height for hugs.“, Fridolina chimed in, sounding more delighted than taunting.

“She is.“, you confirmed.

“So cute with your matching opposite aesthetics.”, Salma commented with a huge smirk on her lips.

“Salma don’t.”, Mapi warned, clearly fearing the tall forward would stop the banter with her observation.

“Why?  It’s very opposite.”, she chuckled.

Meanwhile, you turned around to face your girlfriend. “Are you ready to go, Oni?”

No words were needed for her to answer the question, she simply jumped on to your back grinning.

While you made sure she was positioned safely, the brunette murmured into your ear. The smile carried through the voice. “Ready.”

Both of you said your goodbye to your teammates, when you were almost at the door Vicky yelled smiling. “Bye, princess.”

“They’re such idiots.”, Ona sighed.

“I love them though despite the teasing.”, you admitted.

“Yeah, me too. It’s a normal height difference though, they’re just annoying.”, she said.

You nodded in agreement. “True.”

“Let’s just go home.”, the defender suggested in a longing tone, nothing sounded better in her ears than having a good dinner and afterwards being cozy on the sofa with her dog and you.

Noticing the dreamy look in your girlfriends’ eyes you decided. “Yes, please. I’ll drive, you already look a bit sleepy.”

“Okay. Fine, I won’t complain.”, Ona answered.

“Good.”

The two of you got into your shared car while the fellow football player started the music playlist, she couldn’t help but to tease you. “Even though you drive horrible.”

“Excuse me? Your fast driving isn’t better.”, you protested laughing.

“I drive well.”, the defender countered.

“Do I’ve to remind you of-“, you begun.

“I’m quiet.”, Ona interrupted you softly. 

Fast forward and it was the night of the Ballon d’Or.

Sadly, not many of the female players could attend the event because it was set during the national team break, but a few of your club teammates and you were able to.

On the other hand, the gala wasn’t known in its history to be this supportive of women footballers in general.

Surrounded by the nominated female players you put on your high heels who gave you the needed confidence boost and calmed your nerves for the moment.

“You look gorgeous.”, Ona whispered admiringly, tiptoeing to place a heartfelt kiss to your lips.

“So do you.”, you told her and meant every word, your girlfriend wore her beautiful long wavy hair open, only slight make up, so her natural beauty shone through even more and the defender was in an outfit she felt comfortable in.

“Naw.”, Aitana remarked.

Impatiently Caroline threw in. “Can you two love birds hurry up now?”

“We’re good to go.”, you assured the Norwegian.

“Finally.”, Alexia noted happily.

“Come on, we can’t be late.”, Aitana reminded everyone urgently.

“Coming.”, you tried to soothe the small midfielder.

As you followed her, Ona interlaced her fingers with yours and whispered: “Don’t let go of my hand.“

“I won’t. Nervous?”, you quietly asked.

She shook her head: “Not at all.“

“Me neither. It’s between Caro and Aitana.“

“We’ll see.“, she replied earnestly which caused you to pause and raise your eyebrow at her.

“What? They’re simply the best, Ona?”

She turned back to you with a frown: “I didn’t say that they are not.“

“You would have deserved a nomination too.“

She shrugged nonchalantly: “I don’t care about this award to be honest. Defenders usually don’t win.“

“It’s not fair.“, you complained on her behalf.

“It’s fine.“, she assured you.

You pulled her in for a hug. First you wanted to press a kiss to her forehead but remembering your lipstick, you thought better of it: “You’re still the best.“

She chuckled lightly, brown eyes shining brightly as she looked up at you: “You’re too sweet.“

“Girls, time to pose together. And stop that teeth rotting sweet talk!”, Alexia called over to them, right before she stepped on the red carpet.

“We’re not doing anything.“, Ona blinked innocently while the two of you joined the group standing in front of the photographers.

“Lies.“, Caroline said through her teeth.

“Just smile for the camera.“, Aitana ordered.

You did as you were told, before taking your seats at the ceremony. You politely applauded for every winner and cheered whenever your teammates were onstage but with every passing hour you could feel Ona getting more impatient.

“Glad we’re done with this.“, she jokingly sighed as the ceremony ended and people moved on to the afterparty.

“Sounds like someone wants to go home.“, you grinned.

Nodding, Ona bit her lip: “Yes, my girlfriend looks so hot and I really don’t feel like sharing tonight.“

“Oh, you don’t?“, you teased but just like her, you didn’t mind skipping the party and go straight back to your hotel room.

“No.“

Hand in hand, you snuck out of the building and hailed the next cab. You scrolled through several social media posts of the Ballon d’Or on the drive back. Of course, you couldn’t help but check the comments too and they were exactly what you expected.

You chuckled softly: “They write so much bullshit, amor.“

“Let me see.“, Ona demanded as she scooted closer to have a look at your phone screen.

“They’re still commenting about our height difference.“, you grinned. “Seems to bother them a lot more than us.“

“Right? Let them keep talking, I don’t care.“, Ona laughed and leaned over to kiss you.

The cab stopped in front of your hotel. You could barely wait to go inside.

A few years ago, comments like these would have plunged you into self-doubt, wishing you were a few inches shorter. But not since Ona came into your life.

With Ona you felt confident and desired, not despite but because of your height. They could say what they wanted, all you could see in those photos was a couple that matched each other perfectly.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/batlleonafc/748573331298697216/her-smile-lights-up-every-room?source=share

[affableramen]

asking them if they actually love you

fluffy angst, established relationships wriothesley, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore

Wriothesley

The duke was working at his desk in his private office when you walked in with no lively expression on your face. Wriothesley tore his eyes off from the cup of tea and saw you looking expressively exhausted.

“Wow, someone’s had a tough day”, he chuckled, “you look exhausted, babe.”

Ignoring his childish manner you asked him rather simply:

“Wrio, I have just one question. Do you even love me?”

Wriothesley choked on his tea.

“Love you? Of course I—I do.”

You did not have to question his frankness as Wriothesley has always been an explicitly blunt person. He would never lie in such occasions and certainly would tell you if he disliked something.

Having received his answer on the wobbly legs but with a contented smile, you lurked to his desk and hugged him from the side.

“Wrio, I’m just so tired and I’m in diiiire need of your cuddles.” You surprised him with a nice peck to his cheek.

Seeing you giving in to stress and overwhelmed all over Wriothesley could not help but started feeling upset too. He gently pulled your face close to him, his big gloved hand laid on your cheek in a loving way.

“Girl, someone has been working non-stop I see. Or should I say studying? M?”

He was clearly not happy with your sufferings. Being a workaholic himself Wriothesley knew how easy it is to overwhelm oneself. But he did not want this fate for you. Due to the sudden friction of you leaning to his chest to get sense of comfort, the work papers from Wriothesley’s desk had dropped onto the floor. You were lucky the ink remained still.

“Oops. Seems like you wanted to hug me so much you did not spare the poor sheets.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Wrio!”

“Ah, whatever.” He looked down indifferently. “Girl, I will not calm down until I make sure you’re in your bed, sleeping.”

“I’ll be fine. I can get home on my own.”

Wriothesley raised from his desk and discreetly walked you out of his office.

“I’m going to get you home and you’ll rest. That is unnegotiable.”

Neuvillette

Neuvillette was a closed, solitary man who experienced some difficulties when it came to relationship dynamics. Deep inside his heart he was, nonetheless, a pure romantic. He’d always come to your dates earlier, looking nothing but polished; and with incredibly serious (but polite) manner he would court you.

He was always a husband material and he let you know how important you are in his life any time he could. He was dedicated to you wholeheartedly, and even though at first time you were much scared off by his cold, aloof, professional-like appearance, later you found yourself falling in love with him too, until the both of you grew tightly attached to each other.

You knew you should not question or doubt his affections, but you had a terrible day and you only saw your world dark and hollow. It was when your shift ended that Neuvillette entered your office only to find you drowning in your work overtime. Or perhaps—no, it was your studies, your homework.

“Darling, were you doing your studies at work? I thought we’d agree that you would not overexert yourself.”

“I know…” you mumble, caffeine in you refusing to help anymore. “But at home I want to sleep. So when I finished my paperwork, I started doing my studies.”

“I see.” Neuvillette walked closely and took a look at your work sheets. “Dear, you have some mistakes here…But that’s not important now. I’ll give you a lift to home.”

You looked at Neuvillette bewildered.

“Home?”

“It’s evening already.”

“Neuvillette—” you asked him when he gently pulled you out from the desk by your hand. He gave you a surprised look. Judging by your face you were dead serious about asking something, so he kept quiet, letting you speak. “Do you like, love me?”

He was flustered at first, but only mildly. Neuvillette cleared his throat and adjusting his collar he answered with the equal seriousness:

“That I do. Why, have I made you doubt my affections?”

“No. I was just messing with you… I’m having a bad day.”

“I love you”, he said as if picking up your disappointed mood, he continued confessing to you in a frenzy: “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He smooched your cheek before leading you out of the office. “And I will make sure you won’t overwhelm yourself like today.”

Pantalone

“Do you even love me…” you wonder out loud, your chin laying on your arm as you’re doing the paper work.

“Love is a foolish concept for foolish people. It only softens your senses and makes you miserable. I cannot afford being miserable, vulnerable or weak”, Pantalone responds—his words a well-polished conviction he made himself believe in. Although, his looks is harsh on you and he states that in a rough manner, his gaze does not leave your exhausted image not for a moment of time.

Tired and exhausted, you are lying on the desk before the papers.

“So now you’re collapsing on my desk? Did no one teach you proper manners?” he inquires with a tone so ambiguous and indefinite that no one can truly guess if he’s fooling around or scolding you quite seriously.

“So you don’t”, you respond quietly. What were you even thinking… Of course a Harbinger—especially one of the oldest, probably no longer sensitive to feelings—Regrator would ever love you.

“There’s no point of me loving you, really. Love’s a poison, and I cannot let myself be poisoned, for there are many people who’d prefer me dead. I suffered too many assassination attempts to grow a sense of preservation in myself. Besides, where have you heard about love in business?” As always, the talkative man he is Pantalone would not stop blabbering a second. But seeing you close your eyes as he came closer, he whispered quietly, but audible enough for you to hear:

“I love you.”

Perhaps he did not even consider the words which slipped so fast from his lips. He wanted to cover his mouth shut to hide his embarrassment, but then he did not see a point in this.

“Thanks…” said the sleepy you, the next second falling asleep on the papers. “I … love you… too…”

“You’re an idiot. When will you stop mixing work and studies? Come, I’ll get you to bed.”

He gently pulled you into his arms and carried you through the dimly lit corridor. He placed you on your silky bed sheets, his hand moving to caress your cheek.

“You need to take better care of yourself. You can’t keep being so overwhelmed with both work and university. Now, sleep.”

He kisses your cheek, his lips linger for a few moments…

“I’m so exhausted.”

“I know. Sleep, my dear.”

He switched the lights off and slowly raised from the bed, afraid to do any friction that would tear you off from the sleepy state.

Capitano

“Capitano”, you called him from the middle of the living room, while you were studying near the fireplace.

He was just about to enter the room when you side eyed him and the familiar smell of spicy perfume seemed to fill the half of the air.

“Do you even love me, Capitano?”

He stood there, frozen at your question, not knowing what to respond because you usually would not have audacity to ask him something way too personal. It must have been a damn good reason for you to strike him so deeply.

“Hmph. What do you think?” He stopped in the frame of the entrance, his big arms crossed as he leaned onto the frame.

“I don't know, you tell me.” You did not tear your gaze of the book, as if taunting him. But he did not suspect that you were genuinely exhausted at that moment and sook to be comforted.

“Do you think I’d let you lurk in my house on weekends if I did not? Do you think I would ask my servants to prepare the finest meals for you, neatly accordingly to your allergies?” He grunts, unsatisfied and irritated. “Do you think I’d even let you talk to me so boldly if I did not want you by my side?”

You finally raised your head at him, leaving the book behind and gave him a satisfied but undoubtedly cunning smile.

“Capitano, my love, you’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I just don't see a point in asking something so obvious.”

“You and your rational thinking. What if I just wanted to hear you sweet talking to me?”

Capitano was speechless. He knew how cunning you could be, but he did not even imagine that you would be taunting him so badly.

“I’ve had a difficult day. Too much studies, too little rest. I have not much time before exams so I am constantly stressing.”

“You don't have your deserved rest because you kept working even being a student. You need to choose one, woman.”

You sighed at Capitano. How many times did you have to explain to him?..

“I know, but I told you I want to have some cash of my own. I don't want to constantly ask you to buy something for me.”

“But your work kills you. You give so much effort for university, and you give as much to your work. This is unacceptable for your health.” His tone is cold with seriousness. You know he wouldn't change his mind just as you wouldn't change yours.

“Fine, perhaps I’ll work two days instead of three. But Capitano, stop standing there like a statue, sit down next to me. My mind is at peace when you are close.”

“Even if I am simply… sitting here? Doing nothing at all?”

“Even so. But I think you already know that you could hug me since I haven't seen you the whole day~.”

Dottore

“Do you even love me, Dottore?” you asked him plainly with no ceremonies. For a moment Dottore’s hand froze as he was holding the vial. He was standing there in his white medical gown as he mixed some fluids. After a few long moments he finally gave you an answer, his tone indifferent, but you could not see his expression behind the white safety mask.

“You know perfectly I only love science.”

“Guess I should have expected that ans—”

“But I love you. Perhaps, a little less than science, but I do. And I hope you know that”, he cleared his throat, “why’d you even ask that on the first place?”

You took a few steps closer to Dottore, silently lurking behind his back, fearing to ruin his test, but you could not escape his sharp senses.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Continue with your experiment.”

“Uh-huh.” Dottore finally poured the fluids and mixed them properly. When the experiment finished he took his gloves off and you quickly wrapped your arms around his waist before he could run away from you.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, flustered enough to want his face hidden somewhere far from your eyes.

“I missed you, besides I’m very tired. If you don’t want to hug me back, then just stay like this and let me squeeze you.”

Nothing could express Dottore’s astonishment right now. He was most embarrassed, and he is not at all used to such extravagant signs of affections.

“Y/N you fool, careful with where you’re standing, my whole lab is not a playground.”

“I love you too, Dottore.” You delivered a peck to his cheek from behind. That action made Dottore boil immensely, and he finally turned around and leaned against his desk.

“Did something or someone upset you? You don’t usually act so rapidly.”

“Just a bad day in general. I’m exhausted and hungry too. But at least you told me you love me.”

Dottore sighed through teeth. He disliked a mere idea of you being stressed out. He wanted to cheer you up but his heart did not have capacity enough for much open affection.

“Okay, brat. How about we grab a dinner somewhere together? You wanna hot food?”

There were sudden sparkles in your eyes - the only offer from Dottore’s lips made you all shake with excitement and your frustration seemed to brush off.

“I would love to eat out with you right now, Dott.”

“Well in that case”, he glared at you and hissed, “let me finish my job properly. Wait in the vestibule.”

Grinning, you escaped his lab with fast pace, seeing Dottore roll his eyes at your childish excitement.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- Caught in the Act

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- If you asked Zak Brown, he would advice never to store confidential contracts on the cloud. If you asked Lando, he would tell you to not fall in love with your fake fiance. If you asked Y/N, she would tell you to never date a famous person even if it's not real.

While Lando was being coached by his best friend to confess his love to his fake fiance; Zak's cloud was being hacked in hopes of finding some dirt on McLaren or their CEO ad black mail but they didn't expect to hit the jackpot. Their contract was valid for 3-4 more months and the plan was to slowly ease Y/N out of Lando's life and say that things didn't work out because of their busy schedule.

What no one anticipated was they would wake up on Saturday morning to both their face plastered all over the news with the contract they had signed. The media was calling them all sorts of things from trying to fool them to trying to fool an entire country. There were people who had tracked her down and were not waiting outside Y/N's house in hopes of talking to her or at her work. She had to take leave from work since her professors were speaking ill of her. She couldn't imagine having to go back for her PHD programme. The worst were the fans; the name calling, the hate; it was all directed towards her as if McLaren were saint's in all of this. Lando also bore the brunt of a major chunk of the hate.

Zak just texted them telling them not to talk to anyone and to stay hidden till it all died out. Y/N wouldn't even talk to Lando at this point because she was so angry and hurt and didn't want to direct her anger towards him when it wasn't even his fault. She was sat bawling her eyes out at all the mean things the people were saying about her. It made her life extremely difficult, something she hadn't imagined happening.

Lando was a mess; McLaren told the media that Lando wouldn't be answering any question other than the race and if they asked any personal questions, he just walked away; adding fuel to the fire. The drivers were also gossiping among themselves. "No wonder she suddenly showed up. It was all a rouse" George whispered. "I mean I get why McLaren would do that, with Lando's antics" Alex reasoned. But as soon as they would spot Lando, they would stop whispering. "If you guys are gonna talk about my relationship" he said in animated quotation marks, "do it in front of me. I'll answer all your questions" he huffed and walked away, clearly hurt by his friends. Racing while it felt like his world was falling apart was proving to be very difficult. All his calls and messages to Y/N would fall on deaf ears and it was messing with him even more. He just needed to know that she was okay. He didn't give a rat's ass about how he was.

"Lando, I think, soon the media will get something else to talk about. You should just focus on your racing" Zak reasoned with Lando who wanted to put out a statement saying it was all their idea. "None of this would've happened had you not saved the damn contract on your cloud" Lando sighed angrily. "I don't understand how could you let something like that happen" he shouted walking away. The environment in the McLaren garage was tense to say the least.

Lando had hoped that things would quite down by now. The original timeline for his contract was also up but there was no shutting up about the fake relationship. Lando won his maiden win and yet the only thing they could talk about was Y/N. Part of Lando missed her, he had really hope to be able to share this moment with her. When he got out of the car, a big part of him wished she was there so he could run to her, hold her and maybe celebrate this win with her.

So, later that night, he did call her and she answered, her voice hoarse. "Congratulations Lando" she crocked. "Were you crying?" Lando asked worried. "Yeah, I'm just so happy you won" she said clearing her throat. Lando found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. "How have you been?" he asked her softly. "Same old same old. I thought things would quite down by now but they haven't." Y/N mumbled. "I'm sorry" Lando apologised. "It's a good thing I'm busy with research for my PHD. I have no clue how I would deal with people in my class" she sighed. "I'm so sorry Y/N. It's all my fault" Lando began before Y/N cut him off. "It's no one's fault. Things like this happen. I'm just glad they didn't rebuke my visa for this" she laughed trying to lighten the mood. 'I miss you' was stuck in both their throats as they continued to talk for a couple more minutes. "I think we should cut the call" Y/N suggested. "Oh" Lando replied. "I think it would be easier for the both of us if we stopped contacting each other. It was a hassle explaining the whole thing to my parents and my relatives. I just don't have it in me honestly" Y/N breathed out shakily. "I'll fix this" Lando tried to reason. "Don't Lando. I think this was it for us. I wish you the best. Take care" Y/N said it like it was their last time talking. "Please" Lando begged but Y/N cut the call; "But I love you" Lando whispered into his phone.

As the time went on and as the championship picked up, Lando's heart was in unrest. He felt like he had wronged the person who he loved and he couldn't live knowing that. So, he decided to sit down one day and film a video. He had seen the stuff people were saying about him and Y/N and he felt like it had been months; people should've moved on by now but if they couldn't he would make sure that they wouldn't be able to say shit about Y/N anymore.

The video began with Lando in his Monaco apartment; "Hi guys. Lando here" he began. He took a deep breath before speaking; "I would like to address my whole relationship with Y/N in his video. Part of me had hoped that it wouldn't come to his but here we are. Y/N and I did begin this relationship in a contract but it was the team's and my decision to do so. She was just a random person we ran into who ended up helping us. So, the whole gold digger narrative you all are spinning is a load of bull. I know I shouldn't've done that but I had no other option to clear up my image because that's what the team and sponsors wanted. Part of me had hoped that after the championship had started picking up steam you guys would have something better to talk about but hating on us for the decisions we made is too much. If you would like to hate on me or send me a ton of hate, be my guest but please leave Y/N out of this. She is innocent and doesn't deserve this. I would appreciate it if you would stop sending hate to the woman I actually loved. And to Y/N, if you're even watching, had we met in a different situation, I would've actually married you since I really do love you" Lando finished the video and after he was happy with it he uploaded it to his channel. He knew his PR team would give him shit but he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted Y/N to be safe.

The internet was in an uproar after Lando's public declaration of love. Some were calling it cliche and the others were swooning over Lando for taking a stand. People weren't very happy with McLaren and how they had handled the whole situation. Lando was being bombarded by calls from McLaren and they were angry at him for what he did. "Lando are you crazy? The sponsors won't stop calling. Why would you say that?" Zak shouted. "Because lying was what got us here. So, I cleared the air" Lando stated. "You are unbelievable and so difficult. I don't know why I tried so hard to keep you" Zak mumbled which Lando heard and it stung.

Y/N was on vacation with Becky who had taken her away since all she did was stay coup-ed up at home since the whole incident. Y/N woke up to a text from her mum; 'you'll want to see this. It's Lando' it read. Y/N quickly loaded the video and before she knew it, she was crying. She couldn't believe that Lando loved her. The craziest part of the video was the love confession honestly. She quickly called him and a groggy voice answered. "Y/N, is everything okay?" Lando asked worried. "Yes. Do you mean it?" she asked. "Mean what?" Lando asked confused. "What you said in the video about being in love with me?" she pleaded. "Yes. Every word. I've been in love with you for months and I couldn't tell you and it was killing me. It's fine if you don't feel the same. I just needed to let it out" Lando rambled. "I love you too you muppet" she laughed as tears were rolling down her face. "You mean it?" Lando asked pinching himself. "Yes. I love you so much Lando Norris" she said, by now Becky was also up due to all the commotion. "Are you free tonight?" Lando asked. "Ahh, I'm on vacation right now" she said slowly. "Let me know when you're back, I'll pick you up at the airport" Lando said, "I love you Y/N Y/L/N" Lando stated. "I love you too" Y/N replied before ending the call to explain everything to Becky.

True to his words Lando had come to the airport to pick her up, As soon as he spotted her, he ran to her at full speed almost knocking her down as he wrapped his arms around her waist raising her in the process to spin around for a while. "I missed you" he whispered putting her down with his head nuzzled in her neck. "I missed you too" she whispered running a hand through the back of his hair. "You made me dizzy" she whined as he pulled away to look at her. "Sorry" Lando smiled sheepishly. "About that date?" he asked. "Give me some time to shower and than I'm all yours" she beamed.

The two of them headed home. They went on that much needed date; at home with pizza and shitty rom-coms. They giggled as the pair on the screen kissed. When Lando turned to look at her and held her face like it was the most precious thing. "Can I kiss you?" he mumbled, eyes flickering to her lips. She nodded and Lando closed the distance between them, the kiss was sweet and needy; they had so many emotions running through them and some how this kiss was exactly what they needed.

"What about McLaren?" she asked a couple days later. "I'll tell them we're really dating but now I really wanna just protect you. I won't let anything happen to you." he stated. "I know" she hummed in agreement kissing his lips.

After spending the whole of summer break together, Lando came out to announce that him and Y/N were actually dating. The team took it as well as you expect them to. The fans were going wild since this was truly out of a book. The other drivers were quite supportive and even apologised for their previous discretion.

With Y/N on his side, Lando felt like he could take on the world; good or bad. And Y/N was happy she agreed to fake date Lando since she got a real boyfriend out of this.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |9|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Guns, Violence, Attempted Murder, Shooting

Word Count: 3.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You and Sam walked back to Blackmore in a comfortable silence. You preferred the quiet and appreciated that she didn’t ask you questions or push you on anything. Sam had no reason to trust you, but she was taking a chance, and you were going to make sure to prove you were worthy of her trust. When you got to Blackmore you and Sam sat on one of the benches outside the building that held Tara’s class until she came out half an hour later. As soon as you had her, the three of you went back to the apartment.

When you got back to the apartment Tara flung her backpack into the corner and plopped herself down on the couch, kicking her feet up as she reached for the remote on the coffee table. She flicked on the TV and instantly began scrolling through one of the streaming apps.

You mindlessly watched at Tara continued to scroll until you felt her eyes on you. You glanced at her and waited to see what she would say. Mindy was the most suspicious of you, which was fair, though she seemed to be more of a conspiracy theorist than anything, Chad seemed almost too trusting of you, it was slightly concerning, and Tara seemed to be hesitant of you, like Sam was with everyone, though she wasn’t as paranoid Sam. The one thing different about Tara though was half her suspicion seemed to come from just being protective of her sister.

“Do you like movies?” Tara asked, squinting her eyes as she waited for your response.

You shrugged. “I’ve seen a few,” you said.

That seemed to make Tara only narrow her eyes even more. “What’s your favorite movie?” You opened your mouth to give her what would probably be an unsatisfactory answer once again. “Wait! Let me guess,” she turned so half her body was facing you. “Saving Private Ryan!” You opened your mouth, but she didn’t stop there. “No! Hacksaw Ridge!” You closed your mouth and waited; you knew she wasn’t done yet. “You have a dog you love,” she mumbled more to herself than you. “War Horse!” She clapped her hands, quite proud of herself for that one. “Wait!” She shot her hand out, grabbing you on your arm as if you were about to get up and leave. “The Patriot.”

You waited a second to see if she had any more, but she just looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. “All military related because I’m in the military?” You asked.

She shrugged. You playfully rolled your eyes. “Those are all great movies,” you started. You caught Sam out of the side of your eye, she was in the kitchen making a sandwich, but she tilted her head just slightly, indicating she was listening. “The superhero stuff is also good. I-”

“I bet you’re a Captain America person,” Tara cut you off. You rolled your eyes. “You give off the same vibes.”

You gave her a thankful nod. You had never been compared to Captain America before and you were truly honored, though you were inclined to disagree with her. “Cap is great,” you said. “And Steve Rogers is definitely much cooler than me.” Tara shrugged, seeming to agree with you on that. “But I’ve always been more of a Batman person.”

Tara looked at you and nodded her head. “That tracks.” You tilted your head in question, but she didn’t elaborate any further.

“But my default movie, the one I’m always cool to watch, The Mummy.”

“Where Brendan Frazier plays a soldier,” Tara nodded, clearly not surprised by the answer.

“Only in the beginning do the movie,” you defended. Seriously the movie started with him figuring in the desert but that was it when it came to military related things. Unless Tara was also counting the pilot they found to fly them back out there.

“So, you just really love mummies?” Tara raised an eyebrow.

“The Mummy is fantastic, it’s got everything, action, comedy, a supernatural element, and romance. There should be no explanation required.” You had never had to defend liking The Mummy before, you thought Sam’s sister was going to school for film, you figured she’d know this better than anyone. “Oh, and Rachel Weisz,” you added.

“All good points,” Sam said, coming back into the room. She handed you a bottle of water before taking her seat in the chair next to the couch. You gave her a thankful smile; you hadn’t even asked for a drink for her to just bring one to you.

“You too?” Tara shouted, whipping her head around so fast you were surprised she didn’t get whiplash.

Sam shrugged as she curled her feet up on the chair, tucking them under her before reaching for her sandwich on the coffee table. “Who doesn’t love Brendan Frazier and Rachel Weisz,” she said as if they explained everything.

Sam went on to eat her sandwich while Tara was looking at her sister in a whole new light, as if she was seeing her sister for the first time. You were still new and getting to know the sisters, but you were curious why Sam liking The Mummy would be so surprising. Tara just stared at her sister for several minutes before finally going back to scrolling for a movie, finally deciding to settle on The Mummy.

Not long after the movie ended did Chad walk in with a stack of three pizza’s, quickly followed by the others. “Dinner is served!” Chad said, holding up the pizza’s as he took them to the dining table.

“Thanks for picking them up,” Sam said as she got up to grab some paper plates.

Chad waved her off and flipped open all three boxes. Each pizza was different, there was a plain cheese, a pepperoni, and then a meat lovers. You and Tara got up to join the others around the table, everyone grabbed their slices and then went off to separate corners of the room. Quinn took the seat across the room, closest to the door, Mindy and Anika cuddled up next to each other on the floor, Ethan plopped himself down in the seat furthest from the door, and Tara dropped herself down in what was Sam’s seat because Chad stole her spot on the couch next to you.

Once Chad finished up his pizza, he wiped his hands off on a napkin and tossed it onto his dirty plate. He was still chewing the last bit of his food as he switched the channel on the TV and grabbed a PS4 controller. You wiped your own hands and put your trash on top of his, creating an organized little pile. You leaned back and watched the screen as Chad flipped through games.

“What are you playing?” you asked.

“Crash,” he said mindlessly.

“Racing or the original?”

Chad’s mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish. He looked at you then back at the TV, only to do a double take and look back at you. It was like he couldn’t believe you were asking him about video games.

“R-Racing,” he said. “Want to join?” he reached over and grabbed the other controller and held it out to you.

You shrugged and took the controller from him. “Sure,” you said.

The two of you selected our characters and started the first race. You let Chad pick the track, you knew he’d need the edge anyway. The two of you raced around, doing your laps, you felt everyone’s eyes on you and the TV but you paid them no mind as you drove your way into first place. You were on the last lap when you dropped a TNT crate, only to hear Chad hit it a few seconds later. You quickly crossed the finish line, coming in first, then you leaned back and watched as Chad tried to fight his way back up the line, striving to just not come in last.

You repeated that with the same outcome another three races. Chad was hunched over, pressing the buttons hard as if that would make the cart go faster. You kept your eyes on the screen, never wavering as you completed lap after lap, coming in first every single time.

“You’re good at this,” Chad said. “How are you so good?”

“I play all the time when I’m home,” you said with a shrug.

“That’s why the only thing in your house is a game system,” Sam said.

You looked over at her and smiled. “Got my PS5 and my dog, what more could one possibly want?” Sam tilted her head, seeming to actually think about the question then nodded with a small shrug.

“One more,” Chad said, already flipping through the tracks again.

You rolled your eyes and got ready again as Chad finally selected the track. You were fully prepared to beat Chad on every track, using any character.

You got distracted when you noticed Sam staring down at her phone. You paused the game, ignoring Chad’s protests as you waited to see what was going on with Sam. “Everything okay?” you asked.

Sam looked up, meeting your eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “Your dad is calling me,” she looked at Quinn.

Quinn furrowed her brow and leaned forward in the chair. “He’s probably just following up,” Quinn said with a shrug. “Or wanting to update you.”

Sam nodded but she didn’t seem too certain in Quinn’s guess. Whatever doubt she was having didn’t stop her from raising the phone to her ear. “Detective Bailey?” Sam spoke into the phone.

You couldn’t hear the other end of the line, but Sam’s furrowed brow deepened. “Yes, I know him,” she said. You look around the room, seeing Chad, Mindy, and Tara all looked just as confused. “Of course, I’m on my way.”

As soon as Sam hung up the phone she was moving and so were you and Tara. Sam didn’t even so much as look at any of you as she grabbed her keys. “Sam,” Tara said. “Sam, what’s going on?”

“Stay here,” is all Sam said.

“What happened?” you asked as you made your way over to the sisters.

Sam finally paused her movements and looked up at you, then at her sister. “That was detective Bailey.” You and Tara both nodded. “He said Doctor Stone is dead.”

“Who?” you asked. You glanced at Tara to see her furrow, her brow before her eyes widened.

“He’s my old therapist,” Sam dropped her eyes to the floor.

You furrowed her brow; you weren’t sure why Sam seemed ashamed of that. You went to a therapist; she didn’t know it was because you were ordered to, but she knew you saw one. She went with you to your appointment earlier, you couldn’t see why she would think you would judge her for seeing a therapist herself. You didn’t want to pressure her though; she didn’t owe you any answers.

“I need to go down to the station,” Sam said.

“Great, let’s go,” Tara said, gesturing for Sam to walk towards the door.

“No, no,” Sam spun around, holding her hand up to Tara. “You’re staying here.”

“No, we’re not splitting up,” Tara shook her head. “School was one thing, but this?” she pointed around her. “No. I’m going with you.”

Sam let out a tired sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “Fine.”

“Obviously I’m coming as well,” you said. Sam opened her mouth, probably to argue with you as well. “This is why you asked me here,” you whispered, looking her in the eye. You weren’t sure what it was but the idea of Sam and her sister going out there alone, at night, after Ghostface killed someone connected to Sam, it didn’t sit right with you.

“Okay,” Sam conceded, nodding. “The rest of you stay here,” she said loudly, looking at each and every one of them. Once they all nodded in agreement Sam finally made her way to the door.

You followed behind Sam and Tara, keeping close as they quickly ran down the steps and out the door without a second thought. You checked your surroundings as soon as you got outside, making sure to keep your head on the swivel.

“Why would Ghostface go after your old therapist?” Tara questioned. “I though you hadn’t seen that dude in months.”

“I haven’t,” Sam said. “It was only a couple sessions before I left him.”

“So, is he important?” you asked, inserting yourself into the conversation.

“No,” Sam shook her head. “As soon as he learned who I was…” she crossed her arms over her chest. “He wasn’t the right fit, we never even got into the details.”

You nodded, you could understand why she might not want to share that information. You didn’t care about why she was seeing a therapist or why she left this Doctor Stone, it was none of your business.  “Then whoever this is might not know you switched therapists.” You looked around, carefully watching the other people on the street as you passed them. “They might have gone after him, thinking he was your current one still.”

Sam furrowed her brow and then nodded. “The only one I mentioned my new therapist to was Tara,” she looked at her sister.

“And I haven’t told anyone,” Tara said.

You nodded. “Good, don’t tell anyone. Your therapist is safer if no one knows who they are.”

Sam and Tara both agreed and continued their walk down the street. It was only a few minutes later when Sam pulled out her phone, you saw over her shoulder that she was getting a call from some guy named Richie Kirsch.

“Why do you still have his number?” Tara asked, clearly recognizing whoever this was.

Sam looked at her sister guiltily. “I couldn’t bring myself to delete his number,” she admitted quietly. You furrowed your brow; you could only begin to guess who this guy was.

“What do you want asshole?” Sam asked as she answered the phone, her attitude quickly becoming aggressive.

You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, and you were just watching Sam’s reaction until you caught a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye. You just reacted, your arm shooting out to catch the arm of Ghostface as he tried to bring a knife down on Tara. You knocked Tara back toward Sam with our free arm, and twisted Ghostface’s hand, then punched him in the face.

“Run!” you called out to the girls, hoping they listened to you. As Ghostface stumbled back, trying to shake off the hit you brought your knee up, nailing him in the gut, and sending him falling back into the bushes.

You didn’t hesitate to turn around and take off after the girls, quickly catching up to them. You felt something when you kneed Ghostface, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as Sam flung open the door to a bodega. You were only a couple steps behind them, swinging the door open to see them begging the cashier to help them.

You looked back and caught a flash of a cloak through the window. You pushed Sam and Tara back, spreading out your arms so that they wouldn’t be easy to hit as Ghostface charged into the bodega. One of the customers stepped forward and was yelling at Ghostface when Ghostface just started stabbing him in the chest and then a few of the other customers.

“The backdoor!” the cashier called out, nodding his head to the side as he reached under the counter and pulled out a shotgun. You glanced back to see a door on the other side of the room. You pushed Tara and Sam towards it so they could get out first as you kept your eyes on Ghostface.

The cashier tried to shoot Ghostface but couldn’t raise the gun before Ghostface reached out and ripped it out of his hands. Ghostface flipped the gun around and blasted the cashier in the chest. Your eyes widened and you turned and grabbed Sam and Tara. Ghostface had just raised the gun and fired at the back door when you pushed Sam and Tara down to the ground behind some of the shelves.

You raised a finger to your lips and then gestured forward, indicating for them the to slowly move. You kept your back pressed against the shelf as Tara and Sam slowly crawled around to the next aisle. When they got over there Sam looked back at you and you gestured for her to continue forward. If they kept going and kept quiet, then they could make it back to the front door and while you distracted Ghostface they could slip right out. Sam seemed hesitant to continue on, but she did anyway.

You stayed low and kept your eyes looking up, waiting for the perfect opportunity. You listened as Ghostface’s boots slowly crunched across the broken glass and bags of chips that were now scattered across the ground. You caught a glimpse of the barrel of the gun when the sound of someone hitting a bottle echoed throughout the room.

You held your breath and froze in place. The barrel of the gun disappeared and then a shot echoed through, hitting the shelf across the room and sending snacks flying. You only had to hear the crunch of Ghostface’s boot to make your move, shooting up from your spot and launching yourself at Ghostface.

You grabbed onto the gun and kept it pointed up as Ghostface tried to turn it on you. The two of you went back and forth, each of you fighting for control of the gun. In your struggle the gun got pointed up and went off, blowing a hole through the ceiling and sending chunks raining down on you.

“Go!” you called over your shoulder. If the sisters didn’t move now, you weren’t sure you could get them another chance.

You heard the sound of footsteps running across the floor and caught a flash of Sam’s jacket out of the corner of your eye. You jerked the gun up, finally ripping it out of Ghostface’s hands. You flipped the gun around and fired, only for nothing to happen, it was out of ammo. You flipped it back around and used the butt of the gun to smack the Ghostface’s chest with all your strength.

Ghostface went stumbling back until he hit the back door. As soon as Ghostface pushed off the door you thew the shot gun at him, making him react and catch it, the impact making him hit the door again. You reached behind you and pulled out your gun, not hesitating to raise it and fired three bullets into Ghostface’s chest.

Ghostface slid to the ground, his back against the wall and his body slumped over as the shotgun rested at his side. You stepped forward, raising the gun to Ghostface’s head when you finally heard the sirens. You dropped the gun back to your side and quickly tucked it back in its holster at your back before making your way out of the bodega.

Almost as soon as you stepped foot outside you were hit with a small impact. You let out a groan and looked down to see Tara with her arms wrapped around her waist. “Thank you,” she mumbled into your shirt. Police officers rushed past the two of you, none of them paying you any attention as they made their way into the bodega, their guns drawn.

“Are you okay?” you asked, looking down at Tara. You weren’t big on hugs but if it made Tara feel better then you were willing to accept it.

“What happened?” Sam asked, rushing up beside you. “Did you get him? Are you hurt?” she looked you up and down, searching for new injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assured her. “I shot him, but I didn’t get him,” you looked back at the front door, just waiting for him to come out.

“What do you mean?” Sam furrowed her brow. Tara finally released you and looked up as she waited to hear your answer as well.

“He was wearing bullet proof vest.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Flet it as soon as I kneed him on the street.” It took a while with all the adrenaline for you to finally connect the dots as to what you felt. You had more to say btu you didn’t think this was the time or place with all the prying eyes. You knew it was a good idea to keep the information to yourself when the cops came back out and said Ghostface was gone.

You, Tara, and Sam rushed back into the bodega to see the back door open, the lock that was on the door now lay scattered on the ground. Ghostface recovered fast, he could certainly take a hit, but you weren’t surprised he escaped. Just one fight with this Ghostface and you had enough information to narrow down your suspects. You weren’t sure when you’d have the time or privacy to go over everything with Sam though.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess @luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Love your DC content!! Can you write something olderbf bruce becoming a parent with younger reader? Or bestfriend jason finding out reader is dating dick?

Thank you 💜

Omg absolutely!! Tysm for the request and I definitely want to write the one for Jason at some point in the future, buttt for now, because its 2 AM, you'll get some OlderBF! Bruce :)

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

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne Becoming a Parent

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who finds out that you're pregnant before you even know. To be fair, it didn't take the world's greatest detective to notice the menstrual products in your master bathroom that haven't been touched in the past two months or so.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you feel silly for ever being nervous about telling him that you're pregnant, even though he's freaking out a little on the inside.

Your day was long. Long enough that your back had been aching and your feet and ankles were sore. Hell, you could barely keep your eyes open while standing, how the hell could you exoect yourself to stay awake while laying down on one of the lavish couches in Wayne Manor's library? But, in the blink of an eye (literally), you were awoken by Bruce carefully taking off your shoes. Had you really just passed out on the spot? Pregnancy symptoms must've been hitting you a little harder than you thought...

"Any morning sickness today?" He asks casually as he finishes taking off your other shoe before pressing a kiss to your knee.

"No... It's been alright." You answer without thinking too much about the question. But after a few moments of relishing in the heavenly feeling of Bruce rubbing your swollen feet, the question clicks. "Wait, I can explain-"

"And so can the pads and tampons in the bathroom that haven't been used in two months." He answers before you can finish, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the rainy Gotham weather. "Were you going to tell me?" Bruce asks as he continues his minstrations on your sore feet, his thumbs pressing into your aching arches.

"Of course I was." You answer without hesitation, because you knew you could never keep a secret from Bruce for too long. He was far too observant for that. Yet another difference between him and the younger guys you've dated. "I just couldn't find a good time."

"Look at me, sweetheart." His voice is soft as he tilts your chin towards him, gently stroking your jaw in such a soothing manner that you may just fall asleep again. "Any time is a good time to talk to me about something like this, alright? I don't care how many work meetings I have or how late it is; you are always my top priority."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't expect you to keep the baby, nor does he let you go through making a decision on your own. By the time you hit your third month, the two of you had talked maybe three to four times about what would be best for you, because you are the most important person in his life.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is immediately at your side for every will and command from that moment on. He knows that this is your first child and just how hard the pregnancy will be on your body, so he refuses to risk anything. You need water? He's already there with a glass and small snack for you. You need to use the bathroom on one of the rare nights that he's home? He's already helping you out of bed and giving you long, tired hugs as soon as you stand before leading you to the master bathroom.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who starts taking a few more nights off whenever he can from his patrols just to be there for you and the tiny life inside your womb. He trusts that Dick can handle Gotham for a few nights on his own every once in a while, for your sake.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who still hasn't told you about his double life as a vigilante, but finally starts considering it. As soon as he started looking at rings, he knew he'd have to come clean eventually. He needed you in his life far more than he thought he'd ever need anyone or anything.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't let the paparazzi near you at all throughout your pregnancy. In fact, he's tried to keep you inside as much as possible to avoid them, since the two of you never made a public announcement. It was for your safety as much as it was for his sanity.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is right there as soon as the contractions start (after his initial shock and internal panic attack). He doesn't leave your side for a moment, not even when he's certain you've fractured something in his hand from how hard you're gripping it.

There was almost a swarm of motion around you in the private hospital room you were set up in. Your contractions were coming in strong, and so was your grip on Bruce's hand. "Bruce, I can't do this," well, its a little late for that, "it's too much." You're practically sobbing at this point as you feel the foreboding pressure of an oncoming attraction in your uterus.

"Yes, you can." Bruce is sitting in a chair right next to your bed, the guardrail down while he has one arm around your shoulders and his free hand being crushed by your grip. "I'm right here. You've already made it this far, sweetheart."

And, for a moment, you almost believe him. Until another contraction comes rattling through your body, this one far stronger than the rest you've experienced. "I cant, I can't, I can't, I can't." Is all you can cry out in utter agony, your knuckles turned white as you grip Bruce's hand.

"Do you have any idea how close you are to being done?" He asks as he gently rubs your shoulder, trying not to show just how painful your grip on his hand is. "Five more minutes, alright? Five more minutes of suffering for a lifetime of happiness. Do you think you can handle that for me, sweetheart?"

And, despite your body feeling like its burning and being torn in half, you nod. In what feels like mere moments later, the sound of shrilling cries fill the delivery room. Bruce swears it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, for the first time in literal years, cries while holding your infant. His face is red, cheeks are tear-stained, and his beautiful blue eyes are puffy and watery: the same beautiful blue eyes that your baby has.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is pampering you in affection and attention for the entire time you're in the hospital. Every single craving you've had but couldn't satisfy for the past nine months, he already has brought to you in bed.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, when the baby is taken by nurses for examinations a day or two after the birth, shows you a ring. A beautiful, beautiful ring that fits your left hand perfectly and shimmers in the bright hospital lights. Your engagement ring.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who has a private, simple wedding with you, Alfred, his adoptive children, and your beautiful newborn. The press was too risky to deal with for a public wedding, and Bruce wanted those special moments to just be for your family, not for the media's prying eyes.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who is there for as many milestones as he can be. First steps? He's got the camera. Their first words? "Dada." Their baby teeth coming in? He's already bought those little tooth-shaped containers for when they fall out in a couple of years.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who always knew it was you. You were the best thing to have ever happened in his life, and he refused to mess that up. He knew that, eventually, he would have to tell you about his double life as the Caped Crusader, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

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

Masterlist

[chleem]

Is it casual now?/extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, angst,

Warnings: swearing, sex, light read, etc

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

⋆.˚ official one shot, extra I

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. Then he looks back at your eyes, and a smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

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

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

[beelmons]

...uh oh. i may need to politely request this fic:

https://www.tumblr.com/beelmons/727110653210394624/i-feel-this-i-feel-like-spencer-would-only-use

spencer always calls reid by her name and reader is worried that means he doesnt like her as much as she likes him. and poor spencer is just oblivious as to was this matters 😭

It's fine, it's fine.

That's what you kept telling yourself. It's fine that Hotch calls his wife "honey". It's fine that Jennifer gets to be "sweetheart". It's fine that Penelope becomes "baby girl" despite not having any sort of relationship to Morgan whatsoever.

You don't need a pet name from your boyfriend, of course not. No "baby", that's weird, or "angel", that's cringe.

As you were sitting on the couch, sulking about the fact that it clearly annoyed you that Spencer would call you by your name instead of a cutesy petname made up by the two of you, you heard him call from the kitchen.

Once more, using your goddamn name.

"Okay, enough!" you finally blurted out, much to his utter surprise.

"Wha-" he tried to question in an attempt to get to the bottom of your sudden outburst.

"Don't call me by my name anymore, Spencer!" as you were yelling, you had to stand up and walk to the kitchen, where the poor man was holding a milk carton and looking astounded.

It had been a rather domestic day. Cleaning in your underwear, chilling by the couch. He had gotten up from your spot to grab some milk and cookies as an afternoon snack, and had called up on you when he couldn't find said cookies.

Now he was standing in the middle of his kitchen area, trousers and simple startrek t-shirt on, milk in hand, and a yelling girlfriend on his face.

"What's wrong with your name?" he asked with genuine curiosity

"Nothing is wrong with it, but that's not something to call your girlfriend of two years!" you yelled, your tone clearly getting higher.

"Is it not?" he asked once more. Despite his obliviousness seeming feigned to you, it was real to his core.

"I- You're-" you tried to fight back the need to strangle him, figure of speech, of course. Instead, you grunted and pushed on your temples.

However dreamy and kind, your boyfriend was, nonetheless, a man.

Exhasperation took over you over the lack of understanding on the severity of the situation and you knew better than to let yourself talk to him in that state. A resumé of fights and disputes being created by that same reason throughout the time you'd been together. You stomped your way back to the couch, where you simply decided to sit angrily with your arms over your chest.

The silence dragged out for quite a bit while the wheels in his head turned for a way out of this situation. Man, catching a killer was easier than walking through the eggshells you sometimes put out.

"Cinnamon." he simply said. You didn't answer, thinking that he was reciting to himself what he needed now. "That's what your name tastes like on my tongue." he added.

Finally, he earned a look back from you.

Spencer opened the fridge and put back the milk, an object that had lost several degrees of importance in the past few minutes, and walked over to you, taking a seat beside you on the couch and holding one of your hands into his. His touch was gentle, featherlight and quite fearful.

"I think it's due to the fact that I was tasting Penelope's coffee order when you were introduced to me." he continued "I'm sorry if I've come off as insensitive for not calling you a pet name but I had never felt the need for it. I love your name, I think it's a wonderful sound to emit."

It was now time for dialogue, no matter how uncomfortable it made you.

"Well, to me, it feels like you're calling out a friend. Someone who isn't special or remarkable in your life." you explained, your initial defense lowered, thus permiting you to express your insecurities fully.

You saw him make that stupid, adorable confusion face that he usually made. When he was trying hard to find the words to express a feeling he had never experienced before.

"I'm sorry." he simply put out for a second, hence igniting back a bit of your anger "But you see, it's not only the way it feels on my tongue. My heart, it races to levels I don't think are healthy whenever I hear it. My skin, it crawls with anticipation when it appears on my phone screen." he added "Your name is unique no matter how many people on this earth share it with you, and I could probably tell you how many exactly are there but I doubt you want to hear it right now." he had to clear his throat for a second "To me your name holds no other meaning but the one of pure love and happiness, so, to you it might appear I'm calling on to someone random but to me..." Spencer had to pause to put his head in order "...feels like I'm calling home."

You didn't realize your grip had tightened on his hand. Your eyes locked as he spoke had grown a couple of tears along the way. You were pulled, tentatively, into your boyfriend's arms, and there you remained for more minutes than you could have counted.

It's fine. Just your name is fine, as long as it's from his lips.

[papayadays]

🧸 + denial. realization. obsession. + lando (maybe a little friends to lovers 🤭)

a/n: ohhh maddie i love your brain!! (oops i kinda went overboard for this)

you and lando had known each other for what felt like ages. the two of you had gone to the same country club when you were younger, both of you often following your parents. you instantly hit it off, becoming buddies as you wandered around the country club together.

since then, you and lando had become fast friends normally, staying close despite lando making it into formula 1. you still kept in touch as much as you could with countless facetimes, online games, and texts about each other’s day. you often couldn’t go to races, having been busy with work; however, when max and the rest of lando’s friends in quadrant decided they were going to go watch lando race, an invitation was extended to you.

you were hesitant at first, knowing the expensive lounges they were going to choose, but max said that he’d pay for it. (which meant that lando would pay for it, most likely) so now, you were getting out of the car, heading towards the track. you and ria were laughing about something when some teenage girls tapped you on the shoulder. “excuse me, are you lando’s girlfriend?”

your eyes widened with surprise, shaking your head. “no, i’m a close friend of his,” you answered. glancing up, you expected ria to be just as surprised as you were, but she gave you an amused smile.

“that was odd,” you commented to her, walking towards the mclaren garage.

“right, odd,” ria murmured, but it was almost a half-hearted agreement.

you were about to respond when you heard a voice behind you call your name. spinning around, you saw lando, who had a look of surprise on his face. “you’re here!” he grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in a tight hug. lando nuzzled his face in your hair as he spoke. “i didn’t know you were coming, but i’m so glad you’re here.”

“glad to be here, lan,” you beamed. you both pulled back, maybe a bit reluctantly, and turned back to the rest of the group, who gave you the same amused glance ria had. but to add to that, the mechanics in the garage also shared a similar expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“this your girlfriend, norris?” one of the mechanics asked, chuckling. lando’s eyes changed into something veiled, something you couldn’t place. “you two make a good couple.”

“thanks, she’s one of my best friends,” lando responded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. you nodded, smiling at him, though something in your gut twisted at his words. best friends, that’s what you and lando were, so why weren’t you happy with that?

but. wait.

lando had said thanks to the compliment about being a good couple. and he hadn’t necessarily said you weren’t a couple. your mind was reeling with the implications, heart fluttering at the thought that maybe you liked him. what made it more suspenseful was that he quite possibly felt the same.

“hello? you good?” lando laughed, waving a hand in front of your face as you blinked. “spaced out, huh?”

you chuckled, though somewhat nervous, and tugged at his hand. the surprise and faint hope in his eyes wasn’t lost on you. “wanna go for a quick walk?” you suggested. “my brain’s a little busy.”

lando quickly nodded, hand on your waist as he guided you out into a quiet area in the paddock. with your newfound epiphany, you were paying attention to every single detail. had lando always put his hand on your back? when did he start? did his touch always make your heart flutter?

“are you okay?” lando asked softly, eyes seeming green in the sunlight.

“i’m fine,” you replied. “it’s just…” you trailed off, not brave enough to voice your hopes about something that could change your friendship.

“just what?” lando questioned, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

“everyone’s been asking me if i’m your girlfriend lately,” you started.

“is it bothering you? i could-”

“lando, no, it’s not that,” you said, cutting him off. “but i was thinking. if you’d ever thought it about. us dating, i mean.”

lando glanced at you, surprise in his expression as he took a step towards you. “i do think it about it,” he nodded. “every time i look at you.”

your jaw dropped at the revelation, and you mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid. he had had feelings for a while now? and you had still maintained that you were friends? “what if,” you started, “we could tell people that it was true?”

lando’s mouth curled up into a grin, arms wrapping around your waist. “is that what you want?”

instead of answering him verbally, you pulled him down, smiling as you kissed him.

[gwens-love]

The space he left behind

Summary: After Nicky’s passing, Agatha doesn’t know how to handel being a good mother to her daughter, and a partner to Rio. She navigates her grief while struggling to reconnect. As Rio hopes to recover the love that binds their family.

Warnings: Angst, grief and loss.

Word count: 1.7k

~Agathario x daughter!reader~

A/N: I used google translate for this sorry if there are mistakes.

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

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As you wandered through the library with a book in hand, you looked up at Agatha, or better said your Mama. She was busy, but you missed the comfort of her voice, the warmth she used to give so freely.

“Mama?” you asked softly, hoping you weren’t interrupting her too much.

Her eyes flicked to you, and a small, sad smile appeared on her face. She had been distant since Nicky was gone, but there was still a part of her that wanted to be here for you, to love you the way he would’ve wanted.

“What is it, little one?” she replied, her voice softer than you’d heard it in days.

You held up the book, looking at her with hopeful eyes. “Can you read this to me, Mama?”

Agatha looked down at you, her expression conflicted. She reached for the book, fingers trembling slightly, and let out a deep sigh. “Maybe… maybe later, my love. I’m… I’m not quite ready today.”

Your heart ached a little, but you nodded. “Can… Mami read it to me, then?”

Agatha’s expression softened, and she glanced down the hallway where Rio was bustling around. Rio heard your voice and peeked in, her face lighting up with a gentle smile as she approached, kneeling down beside you.

“Of course, mi corazón,” Rio said, taking the book from you and winking at Agatha. “Mama and I both have time for our little reader tonight.”

Agatha gave Rio a grateful smile, her hand resting briefly on Rio’s shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay together, they would find their way forward, for you.

You nestled into Rio’s side as she settled down with the book, her aura carrying a mix of nature’s calm and something far more powerful… the kind of energy you could feel in your bones. To you, she was Mami, warm and loving, but everyone else knew her as the green witch or Death with a capital D. Her touch felt like spring’s renewal and autumn’s quiet decay, life and death balanced in her very presence.

Rio opened the book, her fingers gliding delicately over the pages. “Are you ready for an adventure, mi amor?” she asked, her voice rich and velvety, holding that magical spark that always made your heart race a little faster.

You nodded eagerly, glancing over at Agatha, who sat nearby. She was watching the two of you with a softness in her eyes, though you could sense a shadow in her heart. Rio noticed too, her gaze meeting Agatha’s, a look passing between them a silent understanding of grief, love, and the weight of the responsibilities they shared.

As Rio began to read, her voice wove the story into something almost real. Her words seemed to hang in the air, each sentence wrapping around you like an invisible charm. You leaned in closer, comforted by her presence, while Agatha, though still distant, stayed close enough to remind you she wasn’t going anywhere.

With both Mama and Mami by your side, you knew you were safe, held between life and death, love and sorrow, warmth and magic. And for now, that was enough.

As Rio’s voice wrapped you in the story, the words began to blur. You found yourself glancing over at Mama, who was watching the two of you with that faraway look in her eyes the one she had whenever anyone mentioned him.

You shifted, looking down at the edge of your blanket, and softly asked, “Mama? Where… where did Nicholas go?”

The question hung in the air, pulling both of them from the gentle quiet of the story. Agatha’s face froze for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing her features. She opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly unsure how to answer. Rio’s hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but even she looked at Agatha, letting her decide what to say.

“Well, my darling…” Agatha began softly, her voice a blend of love and grief. “Nicky… he had to go somewhere very far away. Somewhere we can’t visit him.”

“But he’s coming back, right?” you asked, looking between them, the innocence in your eyes making it clear you hadn’t grasped the weight of what had happened.

Agatha’s shoulders dropped slightly, and she reached out to brush a stray hair from your face. Her fingers were gentle, yet you could feel the heaviness of her sadness. “Sometimes, people go to places they can’t come back from, little one.”

You blinked, processing her words, your heart sinking. “Like… like the stories? Like when someone goes into the spirit world?”

“Yes,” Rio murmured, her voice a whisper, her thumb tracing soothing circles on your hand. “Nicky went to a place like that. But he loved you very, very much, and he’s always watching over you, mi amor.”

You looked down, frowning, the ache of missing him suddenly sharper, more real. “Will I ever see him again?”

Agatha swallowed hard, her voice catching slightly. “Maybe… one day, in a different way. But for now, he’d want us to take care of each other. To remember him with love, even though he’s gone.”

You held their words close, even as you struggled to understand fully. In that moment, you could feel both their hands grounding you, reminding you that even though Nicholas was gone, Mama and Mami would always be here. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

But for Mama, that wasn’t enough. Agatha missed Nicky deeply, in a way words could never capture. She carried the loss in her eyes, in the way her shoulders sagged when she thought no one was looking, and in the quiet moments when she seemed miles away, lost in memories of him.

After she tucked you into bed that night, Agatha lingered by your side, brushing a gentle hand across your hair as you began to drift off. She stayed until your breathing slowed, your small hand still curled around hers.

When she finally pulled away, she found Rio waiting at the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms folded, watching her with a look that held both understanding and sorrow. The green witch, Death herself, could face any darkness with courage, but this grief the emptiness left by Nicky’s absence was something even she couldn’t fully shield them from.

Agatha closed the door softly behind her and let out a sigh. “I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right,” she admitted in a whisper, her voice breaking. “I wasn’t meant to do this alone, Rio.”

Rio stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on Agatha’s arm. “You’re not alone, mi amor,” she replied, her voice low and steady. “We’re in this together. Nicky’s gone, yes, but his love he left that with us. With you.”

Agatha looked down, her fingers brushing the sleeve of her own robe as if tracing the fabric might help her remember his touch, his laugh, the quiet way he’d reassure her during nights like this. She wanted to believe Rio, to find comfort in her words, but the ache of Nicky’s absence was too raw, too present. “It’s just… sometimes, it feels like there’s a part of me that went with him.”

Rio tilted Agatha’s chin up gently, her gaze fierce yet filled with empathy. “You still carry him, Agatha. He’s in every act of love, every time you comfort mi cielo, every time you give of yourself even when it hurts. Nicky would be so proud of you for everything you are, and everything you’re becoming.”

Agatha’s eyes filled with tears, and she let them fall, silent yet heavy with the grief she’d been holding back. Rio pulled her into an embrace, grounding her, her arms strong and steady, as if she could anchor Agatha to the world again.

For a long while, they stood like that in the dim light, surrounded by quiet and loss, yet also by the bond they shared a bond born of love, even through the pain. Agatha knew she had to carry on, not just for you, but for Nicky’s memory and for the family they were still trying to build.

And maybe, with Rio by her side, she would find the strength to face each day anew.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, anyway,” Agatha murmured, her voice laced with sorrow, her words hanging heavily between them. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, a glint of hurt that hadn’t yet softened, no matter how much time had passed.

Rio’s face softened, her usual confidence faltering as she held Agatha’s gaze. She nodded, understanding the weight of the pain she had caused, the way it still lingered, the wound not fully healed.

“But I will love you until the end of my days here on this earth,” Agatha continued, her voice breaking slightly as she brought her hands up to Rio’s face, her thumbs tracing the curve of Rio’s cheekbones with a gentleness that spoke of both love and longing.

Rio closed her eyes at the touch, feeling the warmth of Agatha’s palms against her skin. For a moment, it was as if the world fell away, leaving only the two of them, bound by love, loss, and the complicated history that lay between them. She knew Agatha’s forgiveness was not something that could be given lightly, nor something that could be hurried. Rio had hurt her, betrayed the trust they’d built, and she understood that forgiveness might never fully come.

“I don’t deserve you,” Rio whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with the weight of her own guilt. “But I’ll spend every moment of this life making it right, even if it takes until the end of time.”

Agatha leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Rio’s, their breaths mingling in the silence. It was a closeness that spoke of all the words they couldn’t bring themselves to say, of all the love that still pulsed between them despite everything.

They stayed like that, bound together, in a promise unspoken yet deeply understood: to hold each other, even when forgiveness felt far away, even when their hearts were heavy with grief. Because love, even in its most fractured form, was a lifeline neither of them could bear to sever.

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Fin <3