#but he just thinks that if people like his dad

[tender-rosiey]

Can u do a drabble with jjk men where their child gets into a physical fight?

"MY KID IS NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!"

— when your kid with gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto, and toji gets into a fight (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband happily swings your hands together, as you walk to the principal’s office. meanwhile, you’re worried sick about s/n and what happened to him.

satoru rubs your hand reassuringly before slamming the door open and yelling, “did you win?!”

your eyes widen, but before you interject, s/n replies back enthusiastically, “yes, I did!”

you hurry to your son, kneeling in front of him to check him thoroughly.

you let out a sigh of relief when you see that he isn’t hurt in any way. sensing your distress, he hugs you. “I missed you, mama,” he says, snuggling into your neck.

“me too,” you smile and almost get lost in the moment, but then you hear a camera shutter. you look back and see your husband, holding a camera.

“oops, don’t mind me, hun.”

the dad of the other boy—who you didn’t notice was even there—stands up, livid, “can you take this a bit more seriously?! my son is injured!”

you’re about to reply yourself, but then satoru beats you to it. he stands right in front of the man and looks down at him, “surely, you’re not yelling at my wife, right?”

the man stumbles back into his chair, and satoru stares him down, making him sink even further into the chair.

the mother then speaks to you, “what your son did is unacceptable! look at how my baby is right now!”

looking at the other boy, you decide that the mother has every right to be mad. his nose is bleed profusely. you’re pretty sure it’s broken.

you look at your son and quirk an eyebrow, “s/n? what happened?”

“I was showing my friends the picture I got of you, and he said you were ugly! he can’t do that!”

your husband turns back and gasps, “he did what?!”

as if the dad himself is the one that is getting scolded, his eyes get teary.

meanwhile, you see the mother whispering to the boy, and he nods, ashamed. she looks back at you and says, “however, what your son did is not acceptable.”

“I know that the reaction was a bit much, but what your son did is also unacceptable,” you answer with your son nodding behind you.

“well—can you not be so close to my husband?” she snaps at satoru, whose cursed energy is increasing.

“you and your husband need to get taught a lesson if you raise a kid that’s so stupid he thinks my beautiful, divinie, and drop dead gorgeous wife is ugly,” he states, and the lady finds herself shrinking back beside her husband.

the little boy also scrambles into his parents’ embrace.

you place your hand on satoru’s forearm, and he immediately relaxes.

you smile and press a kiss to his cheek then pat your son’s back before instructing him softly, “you have to apologize for hurting him so much, though, s/n, okay?”

your son, ever the obedient sweetheart when it comes to you, looks at the boy, “I am sorry, but you should be sorry too!”

the other boy nods, crying, “I am sorry!”

your son nods, satisfied with the answer. your husband then picks s/n up and spins him around as he sings his praises, “I am so proud of you for defending mama like that! so so proud!”

the boy grins happily and hugs his dad. satoru then raises his finger, “but you gotta know that people are weak, so we can only do this to them all the time.”

your son nods eagerly, before wiggling to the ground. he runs to you, excited to tell you about his day. you grin and listen to him happily, ignoring the crying family on the other side.

your husband kisses the top of your head before turning to the principal with a smirk, “so, principal, is there anything you would like to say?”

“I am gonna piss myself.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

you dragged sukuna to the principal’s office, after you got a call of a major incident happening involving him. your husband insisted on dismissing it, but you just had a feeling that something is seriously wrong.

you both enter the office, eyes immediately falling on your son who is sitting unbothered on the chair. meanwhile, the principal is resting his elbows on the desk and striking a pose that could only be described as trouble.

when s/n sees you two, his eyes light up, and he runs to give you—and only you—a hug. sukuna scowls, “what about me?”

“you said you don’t like my hugs,” your son huffs, averting his eyes away. sukuna stares at him for a second, before picking him up by the scruff and placing him in his arms.

the boy looks at his dad, shocked, before snuggling into his embrace.

your husband leans his head just a bit on s/n’s head. you both then direct your attention to the waiting principal.

the principal taps his fingers together, but sukuna grumbles, “are you not gonna talk?”

you stifle a giggle—which sukuna notices and you notice the slight smirk now present on his face. the principal looks up at the three of you then speaks slowly, “well, you see…”

he looks up, “your son set my car on fire.”

a few beats pass.

then your husband barks out a laugh, one so hearty that it catches everyone but you off-guard.

the principal looks incredously at sukuna. your son tilts his head in confusion, before sukuna ruffles his hair, “how did you even do that? seriously, that’s my son for you!”

the boy thrives off his dad’s praise, and they get lost in their world, as your son details how he orchestrated everything.

the principal frowns, vexed. he clears his throat to speak up, “sir, I think you might have misheard. I am saying your son—”

“did I ask you to repeat yourself?”

the tone leaves no room for discussion, and it also sends shivers down the principal’s spine. your little boy snickers, and you side-eye him, effectively shutting him up.

the principal shakes his head slowly, then he looks at you for help.

truthfully, the man has every right to be both terrified and offended cause what the hell kinda is able to set a car on fire and act so nonchalant about it? it’s the kinda kid with a dad who backs him up for it.

however, the man assumes that voice of reason is you.

you want to help, but you’re just too tired. so, you smile, “I understand that what happened is harsh, sir,” he lights up, then you continue, “but surely, you can get a new one, right?”

the man pauses and looks at you with wide eyes, before spluttering, “wha—ma’am, you can’t be serious—"

“surely, you. can. get. a. new. one. right?” you glare.

the man nods frantically.

sukuna smirks pridefully, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. he leans his face near your ear and whispers, “my kinda woman.”

you smile and wrap your arm around his waist and squeeze his hip in return. you both exchange affectionate bedroom looks, forgetting about the frightened principal.

meanwhile, s/n looks at you guys, wrorried, and murmurs, “mom, you’re scarier than dad.”

despite what he says, s/n jumps into your arms and nuzzles against your cheek. your husband rolls his eyes with no real annoyance behind them.

with all the courage left in him, the principal smiles nervously and stutters, “you—you can leave now; I sincerely and deeply apologize for the hold up.”

nobody moves an inch.

“…please leave.”

NANAMI KENTO:

you, your husband, and your daughter are now seated in the principal’s office.

you are waiting for the other kid and her parents to come in as well. you’re tapping your feet, restlessly, but kento lays his hand on your knee and rubs it gently.

he nods at you, and you smile.

you know your daughter would never fight unprovoked. said daughter gets off her chair and climbs into your lap. she hugs you tightly, and you instantly start petting her hair.

she lets a small sigh, but then the principal enters the office with the other parents in toe. you see your husband’s eyes narrow, before he leans close to d/n and asks gently, “isn’t that the girl you said was bullying your friend?”

your daughter nods intensely and whispers back, “she was about to hit her today, and you told me not to let people bully others! that’s why I hit her.”

you pat her head, and she grins. kento hums then nods, “I get that, but couldn’t you get a teacher, sweetheart?”

“the teacher would’ve taken too long!” your daughter huffs, and she is right. but, there still is a lesson that she needs to understand.

the principal clears his throat and sits in his chair. “well mr. and mrs. nanami, your daughter has inflicted pain on a friend of hers—”

“bullies aren’t my friends!”

good saying, but this probably isn’t the time. you pat her back, and she instantly understands what you mean, so she—begrudgingly—calms down.

the principal continues, “as I was saying, she hit her classmate, and as you can see, it left a bruise. such violent acts are prohibited in this respected establishment.”

“shouldn’t bullying be prohibited as well?” you ask, and the man splutters.

“that doesn’t happen—”

“i can assure you that my wife is speaking the truth,” kento backs you up, “if you would like, we can check the cameras or what the teachers say regarding the environment you’re fostering.”

your daughter’s head starts spinning from the big words.

your husband places a hand on the top of her head before resuming, “while I acknowledge that my daughter shouldn’t have been physical in defending her friend, you ought to acknowledge that what the other girl did was also unacceptable.”

“and since you want to solve the root of the problem, shouldn’t you punish the one that did the bullying and warranted my daughter to act in defense?” you press on, and the principal gulps.

the father of the girl stands up, “my princess would do no such thing—”

“your record isn’t that pretty either, so I suggest you sit down,” you say with a smile, and it does the trick. the man immediately sticks to his wife—who has said nothing, and you assume it’s because she knew what her daughter did.

everybody keeps staring at each other for a while, with your daughter having a staring contest with the other girl.

“we will deal with our daughter accordingly,” kento speaks up as he stands up, straightening his suit, “but we expect that the girl is also held accountable for her shameful actions. thank you.”

you and d/n get up, and the three of you exit the office—like icons. kento holds your hand and d/n’s, and you giggle, “did you see how they looked?”

“should you be encouraging d/n about laughing at others?” your husband asks with a small quirk of his eyebrow. you nod confidently.

“if they’re rude then yes!”

he shakes his head helplessly with a smile. then your daughter looks up to kento as you are walking and says excitedly, “dad, I won!”

your husband looks down at her then smiles gently, nodding as he gives her a thumbs up. you raise your eyebrows and gasp lowly, “hypocrisy?”

“hmm, I don’t know.”

GETO SUGURU:

your daughters hang off their dad’s back as you guys head to the principal’s office. they squeal and giggle, and suguru has an ever-permanent smile.

he is holding onto your hand gently and says, “don’t worry; I doubt that the girls actually caused damage.”

“I know, but what I am curious about is why they would get into something,” you reply, pensive, “I know my daughters very well,” you smile, and the girls grin.

they start chanting your name, clapping, and saying I love you a million times.

you open the door slowly and are met with the principal standing in front of his desk and a girl standing on top of it. your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you all enter.

your husband wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. he tilts his head, “so, what’s wrong?”

the man drums his fingers on the desk, leaning back, “your daughters have ganged up on my daughter.”

the both of you take a moment to examine the girl from afar. there seems nothing wrong with her: no bruise, no blood, no nothing.

you exchange looks, and you take the turn to speak up, “your daughter looks okay to me.”

the man huffs and crosses his arms, “she was hurt emotionally! severely too!”

the girl nods strongly and pouts. her dad gasps and hugs her. he then starts coddling her before asking her, “what did they say to you, sugarplum?”

“they said that I looked like a mole rat, daddy!” she replies, hand on her chest as she ‘falls’ to her knees, “and—and that’s only one of the many bad things they said!”

the man gasps yet again and starts comforting her.

you and your husband let out a snort, barely containing your laughter. the girls puff their chest in confidence. you and suguru look at each other with a poorly hidden grin, and you get caught.

the man fumes, “you’re laughing at my dear sweet princess sugar?!”

“no, we are laughing at the insult,” you reply.

“it’s quite creative,” suguru chuckles before turning to the girls who have long let go of him. he kneels down and asks them, “why did you guys do that?”

“she pulled my hair!” one of the twins spoke.

the other chimes in, “and she made fun of me.”

“oh.”

just from that word alone, you can tell which path your husband is gonna take in continuing this conversation. you have a half a mind to make him summon rainbow dragon to take you home.

you just wanted to know the reason, and suguru is probably never going to leave it at that. forget how ‘calm’ he usually is, his family should never be insulted.

“…see, this why you’re all a bunch of monkeys.”

“monkeys!!” the twins scream in unison.

this time both the principal and the daughter gasp incredulously. your secretly a diva of a husband carries your girls then holds your hand before exiting the office.

he walks in silence, and you quirk an eyebrow, “so, what are you going to do, mister ‘filthy monkeys’?”

“I have a feeling that you’re making fun of me, honey.”

“and that feeling would be right.”

the girls settle on his shoulders, freeing his arms, and he takes the chance to tickle you. you squeal, “suguru, stop! I am serious! not in public!”

“but you’re being mean, sweetheart,” he mock pouts, “such bad things you’re saying.”

your roll your eyes, and you guys continue on your merry way back home.

that event passed by like a breeze, but for some reason, the school has been appointed a new principal because the last one went missing.

I wonder why.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

“relax, ma,” your husband says as he rubs your shoulder in hopes of comforting you, “the kid is surely fine; he is our son after all.”

“I know, toji! but what if he did get hurt?” you fret then scowl, “I swear to god, if they harm a single hair on megumi’s head, I will make them wish they were never born!”

toji smirks lightly and ruffles your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before opening the door. he sees megumi sat, arms crossed and frowning.

involuntary, toji lets out a sigh of relief, and you waste no time in going to your son and checking on him, bombarding him with questions.

“did you get hurt?”

“no.”

“did he hurt you?”

“no.”

“are you okay?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, mom, I am fine,” megumi murmurs, cheeks heating up at your affection. toji chuckles at the display before looking at the principal.

the man purses his lips before sighing, “your son has beaten up jay.”

you and your husband blink silently. then your husband tilts his head, “who?”

the principal grits his teeth before standing up. he crosses his arms before huffing, “jay, the son of the town’s mayor! that boy is as important as his father, yet your son has so brazenly hurt him!”

you frown, “I don’t care who he is, and I am sure that my son won’t hit somebody for no reason!”

megumi nods, and you smile at him.

you pat his hair gently, and he reluctantly leans into the affection. meanwhile, toji has been listening silently before turning to megumi and asking, “who the hell is that?”

“the one with the sea slug hair,” he replies instantly. you let out a hum of recognition.

your husband stares blankly before he clicks his finger, “oh,” he then looks at megumi and ruffles his hair with a small grin, “I hated that kid’s dad—good job.”

megumi lets out a small smile before giving his dad a thumbs up. you roll your eyes with no real annoyance behind them and side-eye toji.

toji chuckles then looks at the fuming principal. the man, now red in the face, yells, “mr fushiguro, that is unacceptable behavior from both you and your son!”

“…okay?”

you shake your head and usher megumi out of the room. you and toji share a look, before you close the door. the moment it clicks, your husband turns to the principal with a blank face.

he takes a few steps, stopping right in front of the man. toji grabs the principal’s shoulder then speaks lowly, “you won’t speak of this, ‘kay?”

he nods frantically, face contorting as he tries to compose himself. toji smirks and heads to the door with a small wave, “see ya never, teach.”

your husband finds you and megumi in the school’s garden.

he sees megumi and yuuji—his friend—playing together, while you relax on the bench. for some reason, toji feels a wave of warmth flood his chest as when he sees you and megumi smiling.

yuuji yells something to you that makes you laugh heartily. toji feels himself relax and smile just slightly. it’s moments like these he feels ever so grateful to have you in his life.

and he swears to forever protect you and megumi. he has acknowledged a long time ago that his only wish is to be by your side.

that’s why, in no time, he is behind you, effectively blocking the sun. you look up from where you’re sat to your husband.

“hey pretty,” he hums.

you chuckle as he rests his elbows on the bench, “slain?”

he grins, “slain.”

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[pomefioredove]

Imagine the overbloat gang as fathers or like proud/panicking that their s/o is having a child and they don't know what to do

Imagine the gang trying to give their kids a goid life and getting baby fever like who wouldn't because the kid is literally a mixed of him and you and they gush about how much they love their s/o and children like ???????

Overbload gang as fathers and i will start violently sob

I do have a weakness for familial headcanons :) future au time??

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ as fathers

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (no mentions of the child's origins), reader is not specified to be yuu, obviously takes place in the future

I think Riddle is one of the most reluctant to have children

for years he was strictly against them. his excuses were always that children are messy, unruly, his career, his relationship with you... but he was mostly just afraid of turning into his mother

as he gets older and forms his own identity, though, he realizes that it takes a lot of intentional effort to fuck up a child like his mom did, and he changes his mind

I can see him with... maybe two kids

he would never want an only child. after all, the bonds he made with his peers are what kept him going

he is a pretty good parent overall. maybe a little to focused on bedtimes and table manners, but the kids don't seem to mind

Trey and Che'nya babysit often (and it's always disastrous)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

talking Leona into the idea of fatherhood is like diffusing a bomb with a blindfold on. the guy won't even JOKE about it

if you do end up with a kid, it's unplanned, whether that be pregnancy or baby left on the doorstep

but he makes a surprisingly(?) good father. defo a girl dad, he would spoil a daughter rotten. lets her beat the daylights out of Neji because that's his little princess :)

parenting is really not as scary as he thought it was going to be

he has "I'm just resting my eyes" *falls asleep for 8 hours on the reclining chair in the living room* dad energy

the hardest part?

pretending to like vegetables in front of the kid to set a good example

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul would actually be an awesome dad idc. IDC!

he has a good relationship with his mom and stepdad (who definitely babysit all the time; they insist on it), so he has good role models

he's not even worried about how it'll affect his career! Azul has a "do it all" personality: businessman, entrepreneur, father, aspiring millionaire...

and he is so overprotective

he'd cover that kid in bubble wrap if you'd let him

but he's really more concerned about their feelings. sending them to school is much harder than closing a business deal

he's a little sensitive, but he knows he'll have to trust them eventually

P.S. the tweels are NOT allowed to babysit. bad influences

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil. ohhh Jamil :(

kids were never on the table for him, even after he met you and fell in love, he just... couldn't imagine it

regardless of whether or not he and his family are in a better place. (for the sake of this story, let's pretend they are. I want him to be happy) he just has so much generational trauma that he knows the child will end up with some, anyway

when, if, he's ready, it will still be a tough process. but worth it

he's such a supportive dad. bragging about his child at any chance, definitely the kind of dad to show everyone the baby pictures without being asked

it gets embarrassing for them as they grow, but he doesn't care

he thinks they're the greatest thing ever, and people should know that!

he is so proud

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil had always wanted to play a father on screen, but once he hits that age, he starts thinking about real life, too

he's gotten where he wants to be, after all: he's still young, he's in love, and his career, as successful as it is, is starting to wind down. so, why not?

he is the most supportive partner you could ask for. despite his schedule, he's involved in everything (yes, even the messy stuff)

he's got a customized baby bjorn and everything

I can see him with... one. just one is enough for him. he also has girl dad energy. he's already looking forward to playing princesses and letting her do his makeup (terribly, of course)

he knows his child will grow to have their own wants and thoughts and personality, and he's supportive. besides, if he has another Epel on his hands, he'll know how to handle them

just... gentler, this time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

for you, anon, I will enterain the idea that Idia may someday reproduce. but there's still a 50% chance that kid is a robot

joking (kind of)

I don't think he'd even really want kids. considering his own unhappy childhood and the whole curse of his bloodline thing. but, like the others, he can be convinced!

I think he'd make a pretty good father, tbh. neurotic, sure, but he's not too clingy, nor too distant

whatever kids he has will be smart, and he trusts them. he likes teaching them nerdy stuff, too (finally, someone he can infodump to!!!)

he probably ends up with more than he'd think. 2 or 3

as long as you never bring up how cringe he was in college, he's rather mature and prepared for anything

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

out of the whole lineup, Malleus is the the only one to have thought your future children while at NRC. daydreamed, really

I know, not surprising. look at the guy. he's practically kicking his legs back and forth while coming up with baby names in game

it was just a fantasy at first, then you became closer, graduated, got older, and...

Lilia began teasing him about getting grandkids, and Malleus took him quite seriously

he knows he's still young (though, at his age, Lilia was already general), but he doesn't want to wait forever. you both have many long talks on the matter

and end up with... as many children as you can handle, basically

Malleus is somewhat of an awkward father (having been raised by Lilia will do that to you)

but he cares. and he tries! very hard. plus, there's always Lilia, Silver, and Sebek around to lend a hand

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 28/09✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: I am going to ask you to make a difficult decision… freenoodles or Shadowpeach

(Freenoodles, in my opinion, is just barely better than shadowpeach. Just because of how gay they are in season five. I mean, look at them and tell me they aren’t married.)

Sooo I go with shadowpeach. Freenoodle is like my comfort shit. so many cute and funny shenanigans, for me they are just the married couple who would probably have the healtiest of the relationship. They have teh experience, they went already throught all the "obliviouss-ness" and the "what if they don't love me" yadda yadda.

But Shadowpeach. Ow man. I thought the ineffable housband ship was complex. but god. oh god. how wrong I was. like- these two went from friends, to brothers, to lovers, to enemies, to friends again and to be lover again. They fucked up so much nothing will ever be the same. But they still weak for each other. They are at each other throat and also they know the other in the most intimate way. they are immortal. One of them fucking killed the other. They thought the other left them and betrayed and went both drama to forget (one choose found family, the other murder but anyway-)

Like- WHAT SHIP CAN BE MORE COMPLEX THAN THIS?????

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK have a favorite between his bio parents

oUH NO POOR MONKEYS. He doesn't, but he has a favourite depending on the context. Like, for training he prefers Macaque because he explains a lot better than Wukong, but sparring with Wukong is much funnier, but he prefers Macaque scratches and grooming, but he loves Wukong squeezing hugs, etc...

Anonimo ha chiesto: You know, I just realized something. So you know how people in the fandom give Macaque lotus nicknames since his ears kind of resemble lotus flowers. Well since MK has both Wukong and Macaque's ears that kind of makes MK's ears resemble Peace Lilies (which is kind of ironic since MK is the Harbinger of Chaos)

Aww I guess they do look like them!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I may sound a little to mean but Mk din't suspect a thing aout macaques eye? he has multiple forms were his eye is a cross i mean, i would think smt happend to that eye but that just me uu I LOVE UR ART IT MAKES ME WANT TO KMS /POS

He surely suspected something happened to Mac eye but he didn't know how that happened.

@queen-of-purple-roses ha chiesto: I have a question and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t have too; since we’ve seen Macaque feel guilty with how he treated MK in the past, does Monkey King feel guilty about all the dangerous moments that MK was put in, since most if not all of the fighting ends up on MK’s plate and not Wukong’s.

Oh absolutely, the more time passes he feels more and more guilty.

@catbox730 ha chiesto: Can we get more MK and Red Son please

mayyyyyybe. If you guys behave

Anonimo ha chiesto: It would be funny seeing MK‘s dads going to a doctor with him for like getting his wisdom teeth removed or something xD

The parents being extremely worried that something will go wrong while MK is super chill. When the dentist comes out of the operating room they grab him and ask him if he survived while MK is just eating ice cream post-surgery.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will MK ever fight against one of his parents in a serious battle ? Or be forced to fight one of them ?

mmm. Probably. Maybe in the future they have a discussion. Nothing maybe too serious. But not in the AU plans.

What is Wukongs and/or Macaques biggest nightmare(s) I imagine it would be something like seeing MK die or sacrificing himself again or something like that

I think Wukong is more terrified of being alone. So actually I think it would be worse for him that MK doesn't want to see him anymore.

Anonimo ha chiesto: so who is going to be MK‘s hero that he worships ? I don’t know if he still sees Monkey king in that way after finding out that he is basically his dad and hearing the past the fight with Macaque….

Maybe he wont have any hero. Maybe worshipping someone is not such a healthy thing to do. ( I'm not talking in a religious way of course, I meant worshipping a living normal person)

@emmais333 ha chiesto: Love your MK art. One question how many fights from Wukong and Mac does MK overhear on accident

He heard the first one (and the past one through the vision) then Wkong and Mac started to teleport far away enough so he wont be able to hear them discuss.

Anonimo ha chiesto: What if MK catches Mac and Wukong in the act, not visually, but audibly, like hearing it when going to flower feuit mountain, finding the monkeys in a pile, all traumatized. Or is it too soon? Do they get drunk enough to not care? Do they even drink?

in the....act? (sorry I don't understand stuff if it's not explicited said, like I can't understand double meanings if that was what you meant)

Anonimo ha chiesto: I LOVE YOUR STORY, REALLY!!!! I reread a lot. So lovely. And the Baby MK, I just want to hug so badly 🥺 ( I think Macaque become Protecting mode and he won't let me do it. ) You draw Baby MK so so so cute. My heart can't handle it.❤️ Maybe it's a terrifying idea but I would like know your thoughts. I think that Macaque sleeps very quietly, like a man in a coffin.  + Macaque fell into a very deep DEEP sleep. (maybe because he was tired from fighting demons to protect Baby MK or get injured or something?) = How do you think Sun Wokung will react?

o my god NO DON'T GIVE HIM AN HEARTH ATTACK (heloses one of their immortalities for having the most horrrendous of jumpscares)

@raspberrymixin ha chiesto: AHHH I LOVE YOU SHADOW PEACH BIO AU OMG ITS TO FREAKEN CUTEEEE AAHH I just melt into a puddle! Love you art and make sure to take breaks- anyway- I find it cute how redson interacts with MK I can just imagine him giving him stuff and little gifts and Mk just confused on why but takes it anyway because of friendship and maybe a sign he's trusting more- but MK is just oblivious to the courting- And maybe redson would ask Wukong, Macaque, Tang or pigsy to allow it maybe? And I also love the slow burn! It's just cute on how Macaque and Wukong make each other blush! Awww it's just to cute! I hope you're doing amazing and have a good night/day

Oh man MK would not be able to read a single clue and just think it's a symbol of friendship or wathever. O my god he really did take from his parents (all of them)

fayeangel25 ha chiesto: YOUUU UFUFFHH WHEN I GET YOUUUUU anyways, I wanna see wukong asking macaque about the story of him and mac ( after mamacaque storytelled his lil baby mk ) , cuz i wanna see more flustered macaque!!! Also, 👏 EATING 👏 THIS 👏 AU 👏 UP!!

Hehe he would be a little shy about it. But Macaque is a theater kid so for a bigger audience I guess he would do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like I’m new here. What is Court napping?

Consensual Kidnapping with the intend of flirting with another demon.

Anonimo ha chiesto: How many people want to court MK now that he is a real stone monkey AND the son of Wukong and Macaque ?

mmm. Only people close to MK knows that he's the bio kid of shadowpeach. So for now only Red Son

Anonimo ha chiesto: I bet PIF would try to wait for MK to lose the good guy ‘phase’ since she went through that before lmao (forget being good, convert to villainy in the name of love)

Awwww she would!!! But MK is just too good hearted to hurt a fly. (yeah I know he technically has a kill count still-)

Anonimo ha chiesto: MK would obviously call Pigsy "Papa" so what would MK call Tang and Sandy?

I think he would actually call Pigsy "dad" since it's what he calls him that in the show. Maybe it's Tang that gets to be called Papa. I think Sandy is more like an uncle.

@mage-of-words ha chiesto: When will Wukong purpose to Macaque?

WOW- HOLD ON THERE. LET HIM TAKE HIM TO DINNER FIRST.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Omg I wonder if Macaque and Monkey King ever saw MK get really hurt during a battle with a new demon. RIP the Demon bc two feral Monkeys are after them now bc they hurt their kid.

Them to said demon: So you have choosen.... death.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hear me out, Mac and Wukong in a get along shirt for a day (lost a bet to MK and he planned this too) LOVE YOUR ART TOO ITS SO SCRUMDIDDLYUMPTIOUCIOUS

this is an old ask, sorry for taking so long to answer. But I would say that at this point of the story Wukong would probably be at cloud 9 being squished to super soft macaque all day. Macaque would be like a kitten undecided on wheter he loves or hate the situation (doesn't really likes un-warned physical touch.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hoi there, I found you again! (Following you on Insta as well because your art is awesome ^^)

Reading your LMK ShadowPeaches comics and they are fun. And now my brain can't help but make up scenarios, one like this one. Oh my, MK is a cute little baby! (^///^) Oh my, MK is a little baby!! ('O_O) Welp, Pigsy is going to kill someone unless Wukong gives baby MK into his arms to calm down and be busy being a dad than a raging Hulk. (:P) Also, I imagine MK accidentally shrinking himself, (Wukong decided to play hide and seek with it only to later on regret it). Wukong would freaking out about it, and Macaque then shook him violently while yelling into his face for losing MK. Then out of Nowhere, Nezha shows up at the door frame and be like 'Um, hey guys. Is this yours?' Points at his nose where tiny baby bean MK was, clinging onto Nezha's nose while giggling.

askjajvbks that's a lovely scene! Unfortunately Nehza can't know yet about MK, but maybe he will...

@lara-legomonkiekid 💜:Hey! I'm here to ask permission!Can I make an art Drawing of your Bio parents AU Meeting One of my AU's?Please?(Mostly Suposed to be Meeting One of my OC's!) (Love Your Art and Comics!!!!)(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Yeah sure! just be sure to tag me and link the masterpost of the AU

Anonimo ha chiesto: I find it funny how your shadowpeach bio au came from a joke and now.....wow Your art is amazing

My friend even tried to warn me. BUT I DIDN'T LISTEN

Anonimo ha chiesto: I need Freenoodles talking late at night about MK's new situation Will they be worried? Happy? I don't think Pigsy will take it very well that just when he and MK accepted each other as Father and Son, he is (partly) taken away by his biological dads.

Pigsy was mostly worried that Wukong or Macaque would hurt in any way MK. Both ahim and Tang after they saw how much the 2 care about MK calmed down, still they just hope they don't mess up things.

Anonimo ha chiesto: parenting it not just about having fun with your children, but also making sure there are boundaries even if the child isn’t happy about it. So, how would it go if Macaque and Wukong would try to ground MK 😂

MK is a little old for being grounded I think but if they were to do it maybe with something like no training for a week or smt. He's still an adult (i know we sometimes forget)

Anonimo ha chiesto: MK trying to prank his parents and wake them up with a loud instrument or sound. MK forgetting he has sensitive hearing 💀

reverso uno card

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would wukong or MK help macaque in his drawings if he asked 🙃 or if they tried to help him improve

Awww they would!!! Actually what if this creative side of him was something he kind of inherted from Wukong?

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

So Special - Lando Norris

<word count - 5350> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|

The weekend had gone by, and you and Lando had spent your time doing very different things. He had been productive, spending his two days in the garage with his dad, perfecting your DT project. He couldn't care less that you had told him not to finish it.

He had said he would do it, and now he was damned sure that it would be the best one in the class. Lando and his dad had come up with some genius ideas, even if it was only meant to be a simple little wood-work task. 

It would probably be quite obvious that you hadn't done it in the workshop, but Lando had a feeling that you wouldn't care. Also with the help of his dad, Lando had gotten his homework rattled out within an hour. 

It wasn't quite the same as having you there to help him through it, since your way of teaching him was a lot better than his dad's, but it was better than nothing, that was for sure. 

You, on the other hand, had spent your weekend holed up in your bedroom, not wanting to come out for anyone or anything. Your parents had offered to take you out to any restaurant of your choosing, go somewhere with your friends, anything. 

But, you had declined all of their suggestions. You simply didn't feel like going anywhere. All you could think about was how much you were dreading going to school on Monday, how much you didn't want to see anyone in any of your classes.

It genuinely seemed like your worst nightmare at the moment, but you still had to go in. The minutes ticked by slowly over the weekend, every single one heightening the anxiety of being back in school. 

The most likely scenario was that people would have forgotten it by now and moved onto something else, but the feeling that that wasn't the case was overwhelming, crippling and soul-destroying. 

Even doing your maths homework felt near on impossible. A task that would normally only take you a few minutes took you nearly 2 hours, since trying to work with the numbers made nervousness swirl in your stomach. 

The ever present thought was Lando. If anything, you figured he had it the worst out of all of this. His friends mocked and ridiculed him at any chance they got, he couldn't even get the bus anymore without throwing in the towel and getting off early, and you didn't want to be around him anymore. 

Guilt mixed into the cesspool of emotions that you were feeling, but the pure fear of being in school and getting the mick taken out of you overshadowed that. You just wanted to get your education and run as far away from that damned place as you could. 

Once Monday morning had rolled around, you reluctantly got onto the bus, not wanting to walk in the frosty weather. Lando's mum would've given you a ride, but you didn't want to be seen getting out of his car. Now that would be pure social suicide. 

On the bus, you saw that Lando wasn't there, which made things easier. But, you sure as hell weren't sitting at the back near his friends. You shuffled onto a seat next to some random kids in a year below you, but you'd much rather do that than be subjected to Lando's friends.

School was relatively empty when you got there, most people going to sit in the canteen before the bell went for their first lessons. You made a beeline to the lockers, hoping that no one would be there.

Thankfully, there wasn't a soul in sight as you quickly punched the code into Lando's locker. You knew the code since you'd had to leave his homework in there a few times in the past. You pulled his jumper out of your bag and stuffed it in. On the top, you placed a small note of gratitude, before closing the locker back up and going over to yours to put in some of your textbooks.

To your surprise, your locker wasn't empty like you thought it would be. Inside was a small, plastic bag. Just like you had put on Lando's jumper, whoever had been in your locker had put a note on top of it. 'I promised I'd get this finished, and I am a man of my word'. 

You knew that handwriting off by heart, since it was one you often plagiarised. Opening the bag, you saw your fully finished, absolutely faultless DT woodwork project. You were baffled by how clean the cuts and joints were, and it was surely going to get you the best mark you had ever gotten in DT. 

The first genuine smile that you had cracked in days grew across your face, truly touched by the gesture. You had told him not to bother, that you'd do it yourself, even if you really didn't want to. "I did it right, yeah?" a voice suddenly broke you out of your small bout of happiness.

Lando was leant against his locker, hands in his pockets as he looked at you. His face was tired, it didn't have the life to it as it used to. His eyes were equally as lethargic, no longer holding that cheeky spark that they always had. It was like the colour had dulled out, leaving them more greyed over than blue. 

"Yeah, you did. It's great, thanks," you mustered up a small smile, barely even a fraction of the one you had earlier. For some reason, your brain still couldn't make you look him in the eyes as you talked to him.

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze fixed on your side profile. He was thinking the same about your appearance too, your face had sunken and your eyes weren't as bright as he remembered them being. 

"I don't think anyone's going to say anything, you know..." he mumbled, half hoping you'd heard him, half hoping you hadn't. The words sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, since he wanted to believe that they were true. 

He didn't want to see you upset anymore, he didn't want to have to distance himself from you, he didn't want to have to change his entire routine. All he wanted was his life right back to the way it was. 

The life when you two were friends, where he'd get to spend time with you. The life where he got to be Lando Norris, the cocky little shit to the rest of the year, but a softie for you. The life where everything was perfect again. 

"I don't think it's that easy, Lando," you said, your eyes still glued to your feet as you avoided eye contact with him. Even the sound of his name on your lips made his heart flutter uncontrollably. He wanted to hear more of it, he wanted to hear it every goddamn day of his life if you'd let him.

"Please? Can we just... just try to ignore it and still be friends? I just want to be your friend again, I mi-" he started to plead, the desperation evident in his tone. His face fell as he was cut off, knowing that both of you were in deep shit before the day had even started. 

"You what, Lando? Bit of trouble in paradise for our most prolific love birds?" some random guy in your year interrupted him, standing beside Lando. He had never seen fear in a person's features like he did on yours in that very moment.

You didn't think you could handle hearing another word of it, so you dashed past the both of them and down the hall, trying not to let the tears fall down your cheeks. He hadn't even said anything overly hurtful, but the panic of what he could have said had set in.

"Not gonna run after your girlfriend, Lando?" he further teased, and Lando could feel his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white due to how hard he was holding them. He knew that a comment like that wouldn't have normally set you off, but it just showed how bad the situation had gotten. 

"Go fuck yourself," he spat, walking to the canteen and sitting down on a table away from his friends. They had seen him come in, but he didn't care. They were the last people he wanted to talk to. 

For the first time in his life, he was desperate to get to lessons and have some much wanted distraction from everything that was going on. As soon as the bell had gone, he jumped out of his seat and took the shortest route that he could think of to the science labs for biology. 

Not to his shock, you were already sat in your seat, hunched over your textbook and exercise book. Lando took his seat, a few down from yours on the long, wooden benches. The start of the lesson was silent to begin with, before you were all assigned to do some questions with the people sat around you.

Lando tried to keep focused on the questions, but he couldn't help but hear his own name coming from your side of the table. As he discretely watched from the side, he saw as your head snapped up to the girl next to you. Lilly. 

Goddamnit, of course it had to be Lilly. The one girl who Lando was for sure certain was desperate for him. "Sorry?" you said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You hadn't been listening to a word she was saying, so you had to do a double take now that she was suddenly talking about Lando. 

"You spent the weekend with Lando, no? Since he's your boyfriend and all, I assumed what I heard was true," she said, her voice laced with a sickly sweet venom. The jealousy she felt was obvious, and it did give you a slightly masochistic sense of satisfaction. 

"No," you curtly answered with a small shake of the head, before returning to answering the questions by yourself. Lando couldn't see Lilly's face since she was looking at you, with her blinding mop of bleached blonde hair being the only thing he could see. 

"What? So it's not true?" she pressed, clearly looking for a reaction that you weren't willing to give her. 

"No, no it's not," you declined again, your leg bouncing up and down nervously. Lando grinned to himself, proud of you for sticking up for yourself and not giving in. He just hoped you had the willpower to carry on being as strong as you were, since he knew how sensitive you were at the minute.

"So the two of you didn't spend this weekend, practically locked in his parent's house by the lake while the bed was creaking-" 

"Right that's enough." you said, your voice firm and leaving no room for disagreement. Lilly looked a tiny bit shook by your defiance, but Lando was sat there, wide-eyed. He never told anyone about the house by the lake apart from Max, and the likelihood of him telling Lilly of all people was slim to none. 

But he was more taken aback and impressed by your steadfastness. He had expected you to be in tears by this point, but it was a more than pleasant surprise. He still couldn't see Lilly's face, but he could imagine the annoying pout as her lips were pursed together.

"I don't know who you heard that from, but that is complete and utter bullshit. I spent my weekend at home. As for Lando? I couldn't really give a shit, but he wasn't with me. Much to your dismay, he wasn't with you either,"  you carried on, and your conversation had pricked up some of your class' listening ears. 

Lilly looked like you had just slapped her, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she looked at you. "I... you..." she stuttered, unsure of how to respond. As much as Lando was glad that you were sticking up for yourself, he was also feeling a slight stabbing pain in his chest. 

You 'couldn't really give a shit'. The worst part was that he couldn't tell if you meant it or not. He doubted that you did, but there was always the small question of what if? What if you had meant it?

If he was being honest, the thought of you not caring scared the life out of him. It wasn't something that he wanted to believe, not at all. He knew that the two of you weren't on the best terms, not by either of your faults but you still weren't friends, yet that didn't warrant you not caring at all, right?

The one person whose opinion he idolised, the one person who he wanted to see everyday, the one person who he could be himself around didn't care. It simply didn't register in his mind that that was even possible. 

By the time Lando had snapped out of his thoughts, the teacher had resumed his lesson and you and Lilly were sat in silence, a scowl still plastered on her face. The rest of the lesson wasn't focused on biology, at least not for Lando. 

Both of you left as quickly as you could and went to your favourite respective places to spend your break times. Lando didn't know where you'd be this time, since you moved just about every five minutes. 

He knew that your little outburst would get back to his friends by the end of the break, and he didn't want to be there when they inevitably found out. He couldn't figure out what they'd say to him or how they'd react, but he knew there would be more teasing. 

He was upset enough as it was, and he didn't need them to make it worse. Lando stayed away from the canteen, just aimlessly wandering through the near-empty halls. As he approached the lockers on his third lap of the school, his ears picked up the sounds of a familiar voice. 

"You think you're so special, don't you?" she said, and he could have sworn that all he could see was red. Lilly. And there was no doubts in his mind over who she was talking to.

"I bet you're loving all of this attention, aren't you? You probably started these rumours yourself, didn't you?" Lilly carried on, Lando staying behind the wall while he listened to her onslaught. He hadn't seen you, but he could picture the look on your face. 

"Why the hell would I make up such awful things about myself? I'm not an attention seeker like you, I don't want this happening," you retorted, a smirk growing on Lando's face as he heard you. He was glad you weren't running off and crying anymore, but he assumed you were bottling it all up as a way of coping. 

"Please, you're just annoyed that Lando would never actually date you, aren't you?" she said, and you were both gobsmacked. You knew that that was why she was getting pissy with you, but you didn't think she'd spell it out point blank. 

"What, like he'd date you either?" you shot back, stunning Lilly into silence. Initially, she was right to assume that her saying all of these things would reduce you to tears, but today you had built a shell around you - one that almost seemed impenetrable. 

But, hidden beneath the tough exterior and firm words, Lando could hear the faintest of a wobble in your voice. Lilly wouldn't pick up on it, but he had. Maybe it was just because he knew you so well already, or maybe it was just because he liked you so damn much that he noticed all of the tiniest little things about you. 

"Please, I think anyone would rather date me over you," she said after a few moments, the come back taking longer for her to think up than she would have liked.  You nearly laughed in her face, nearly told her what a massive bitch she was and how most people would rather be dead than date her. 

However, someone swooped in. "I know I wouldn't."

"Oh, hey Lando, we were just talking about you," Lilly instantly stepped in, her voice suddenly turning nauseatingly sacchariferous. She stepped closer to him, batting her false eyelashes at him as if it would put him under her spell. 

"Yeah, I heard." he said, his voice betraying none of his emotions. Lilly could tell that something was up with him, but she chose to ignore it and carry on trying to woo him. 

"I was just saying how-"

"I heard it. And I don't think you have any right to say any of that about Y/N. She is a much better person than you, and you're stupid to think she'd make those rumours about us. That's something you'd do. Also, I'll reiterate. I would rather date her than you any day of the week." he said, not missing a beat between sentences.

Lilly stayed quiet, that familiar scowl finding its place back on her face. "Fine, yeah, whatever," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stormed away from you. 

You let out a breath that you hadn't realised you had been holding, finally feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. You had done so well to keep it all bottled up as you stood up for yourself, but now it felt like the adrenaline had worn off and your resolve was crumbling. 

Once she had gone, Lando turned to you and saw the tears in your eyes. "Hey, no, don't..." he softly said, approaching you. He was unsure whether he was allowed to hug you or touch you or if he was supposed to just leave you alone to cry. 

He contemplated it, but he couldn't force himself to walk away. You had let all of the fear and the upset of the weekend and the past couple of hours to build up, and now it was finally too heavy for you to hold up. 

"Can I... can I please just..." he started, not knowing how to ask the question. He didn't want to outright ask if he could hold you, but he didn't know what else to say. Instead, he hovered his arms awkwardly around you as if he was gesturing at hugging you. 

"Mhm," you hummed, your arms going around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. It was nice to be close to you again, to have you again. He also felt a rush of affection. He didn't know how long to hold the hug, how tightly to hold you, where to put his head. 

Did he rest it on top of yours? Bury it in the crook of your neck? Just... keep it there? 

Despite his inner turmoil, his instincts took his hand up the the back of your head, fingers tangling in the strands of hair. "Please don't cry, c'mon, it's OK," he mumbled, hating the way you shook with silent sobs in his arms. 

He knew you had kept your emotions all bundled up inside all day, but he couldn't handle you being so upset. "I'm sorry..." you mumbled, but he couldn't make out the words as they were muffled by his chest. 

"Hm? What did you say?" he gently asked, looking down at you as you looked up at him. It had just dawned on him how close you were, and how easy it would be just to lean down and kiss you like he- no, no. Not the time. Not yet, at least. 

"I said I'm sorry," you repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for... avoiding you, not being your friend, being a complete and utter bitch to you, and-" you started to ramble, more tears falling from your eyes. 

"Hey, no, no, I won't hear it. None of this is your fault, absolutely none of it. OK?" he reassured you, needing you to know that you hadn't done anything wrong. All you did was nod, before hugging him tighter and resting your head back on his chest. 

His white button up was slightly see through with tears, but he'd be able to hide it with his blazer no problem. "Shh, please don't cry," he carried on trying to soothe you, his mind going through thousands of other things he wanted to say.

'You're too pretty to cry...' was the first thing that came to the forefront of his brain, but that was too much too soon. He felt your shudders against him stilling as you opted to just stand there in his embrace. He wasn't complaining, he would stay like that for as long as you'd let him.   

From down the hall, he could hear the faint pattering of footsteps. Lando didn't want to say anything, he just wanted to let them walk by and they'd likely ignore the two of you. Once you heard it too, you pushed back from him so that there was a sizeable gap between you both. 

He was disappointed, to say the least, but he understood your trepidation. It was a good job that you had stepped away, since the person that walked by was one of Lilly's friends. She was probably already floating around, spreading as many lies as her single-celled brain could muster. 

"I'll... see you later, yeah?" you weakly smiled, checking the time and seeing that it was nearly time for your next class. 

"Yeah, course. You getting the bus or do you need a ride?" he asked, confident that his mum would happily pick you up down the road and take you home. 

"A ride would be nice," you nodded, and he was slightly taken aback by the fact that you hadn't argued with him. You were as stubborn as the day was long, but he was happy you had relented  quickly on this occasion. 

"You just start walking home and we'll find you somewhere along the road," he told you and you nodded. 

"Sounds good," you lightly chuckled, the sound welcome to his ears. He hadn't heard any semblance of a laugh from you in nearly a week, and he was unbelievably grateful that he had gotten to hear it again. 

"See ya," he smiled as you walked away, a wave of contentedness washing over him. Even if it has come as a result of some of the toughest days of both your life and his, he had gotten to hug you. To actually hug you, to touch you more than your fingers just brushing together when you handed something to each other. 

It was what he had wanted, and he had finally gotten it. The price was hefty, but he had gotten it nonetheless. Now, he was counting down the seconds until he'd get to drive you home, spend more time with you, talk to you again.      

The rest of the day wasn't actually too bad. Just the odd comment or two, but it was nothing compared to what the pair of you had been getting over the past few days. Lando actually found a few of them quite funny, when he thought about it. 

"Hey Norris, your girlfriend is feisty, eh? Bet that makes her fun for you," one of the boys in your year said, as if it was meant to hurt or upset him. Instead he just laughed, shaking his head. 

"Feisty? Very," was all he could get out before walking away to get to his next lesson. Lando had never been so prudent with getting to his lessons, but he found that it was the best way to spend his time. 

Hour after hour went by, and before he knew it, Lando was practically running out of the front doors of the school and towards his mum's car. She was parked in the same spot that she always was, and he hopped in the back in preparation for you to get in too. 

"Why are you sitting back there?" she asked, looking at him in the rear view mirror. 

"We're picking Y/N up down the road," he said, leaning over the center console to turn on the heated seats on your side, as well as leaving his jumper from the day on your seat. He had found the one that you had returned to him in his locker, but he wanted you to have the one he had already worn.

There was something strangely intimate about you wearing his jumpers as a source of warmth and comfort, but he wasn't opposed to it. He knew that a lot of girls stole their boyfriend's hoodies, but this wasn't quite that scenario.

He wanted it to be, there was no doubt about that, but this made him feel like you two were a few steps closer to that. You were always happy to wear his jumpers, but he sometimes wished you wouldn't return then just so that he could ask for them back. Not that he wanted them back. If you wanted them, they were all yours. 

"Oh are we now?" she smirked, finding her son's actions towards you as endearing as hell. He was shaping up to be the boy she wanted to raise, and she was so proud of him. She could tell his crush on you was definitely developing, and the distance between you clearly made him want you more. 

"Yeah, we are," he said, leaving no room for her to say no. Well, she wouldn't have said no since it was cold and she didn't want you walking such a distance in such cold temperatures. 

"Does she know we're taking her home or have you just decided?"

"I asked if she wanted a ride and she said yes, so we're picking her up," he reiterated, plugging his seat belt into the socket and getting comfortable against the leather of the seats. 

"OK, OK," she chuckled, shaking her head. Igniting the engine, Lando's mum pulled away from her parking spot and started driving down the road, looking out for you. As she glanced at the rear-view mirror, she could see Lando's eyes glued to the window, searching for you on the pavement. 

She knew he had seen him by the way his eyes lit up and a small smile crept its way across his lips. Pulling up on the pavement, she rolled the passenger side window down as she called out to you. "Your chauffeur awaits," 

Clambering in the passenger side, you saw Lando's jumper on your chair, instantly taking your blazer off and replacing it with the garment. It was so much warmer than your coat, and you felt so much more comfortable in it too. 

You didn't fail to notice the heat that emanated from the seat as well, the added care making butterflies spark in your stomach. "You really don't have to go to the effort of picking me up, you know." you said, feeling slightly bad that she was going out of her way to take you home. 

"Well it was Lando's idea. He just told me we were picking you up and here we are," she told you, and you could sense the blush that coated Lando's cheeks. 

"Mum c'mon, don't..." he mumbled, crossing his arms and avoiding her gaze in the mirror. He had a slight pout on his face, and it reminded her of when he didn't get what he wanted when he was little. He was always adorable. 

You just giggled at him, and it was music to his ears. Seeing you warm and cozy in his hoodie was definitely something he wanted more of, and he wasn't sure how much more waiting he could do before he cracked and acted on his impulses. 

Yet, he didn't know what he'd do if you rejected him, or said you just wanted to be friends. He never wanted to be just friends with you, he wanted it all with you. He wanted you to be his first real girlfriend, the one you can never really forget. 

And he could only hope that you wanted the same from him. His gut feeling told him that it was obvious that you were feeling the same. Why else would you hug him, accept a ride home from him, wear his jumpers?   

He didn't care, all he did care about was the fact that his heart was dead set on the notion that you did like him back, but his head was throwing doubts at him. 

After a short drive and light conversation, you pulled up outside of your house. Instead of his mum this time, Lando wanted to be the one who walked you to your door. Getting out of his seat and taking a few steps forward to your door, he opened it forward and stood to the side. 

Grabbing your bag out of the footwell, Lando carried it to your front door as you walked together. "Do you think we could go to the library tomorrow at second break? I tried to use the textbook to do the biology, but I really couldn't understand. Plus, I think my knowledge of female anatomy could really be helped out by you," he joked, and it was refreshing to see a bit of Lando's regular cheek coming to the fore. 

If someone else had made the comment, you would've been pissed off, maybe a little upset. But not when it was Lando. His usual sense of humor was coming back, and it was like things were slowly returning back to normal. 

"I think the textbook is a better help on that subject than I am," you countered, and Lando just smirked at you. 

"Probably, but I'm much more of a hands-on learner. I'd like to have the real thing in front of me, you know?" he quipped, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. Now this was how things were meant to be. Just you two, laughing and enjoying being in each other's company. 

"Sure," you agreed. Well, not to the hands on learning, just to teaching him the stuff he didn't understand. Your way of explaining things was good for Lando, it made him understand it a lot better than the teachers could. 

"Can I get a hug before I go?" he tentatively asked, his brain working overtime to try and think of a joke to play it off in case you said no.

"Course you can," you said, your arms finding their place back around his neck as you leant into him. Just the feeling of you in his arms was enough to get his heart racing, and he felt the ever similar urge to just lean down and kiss you. 

A soft smile found its way onto his mum's face - who was watching on from the car. Seeing the both of you so miserable was dreadful, so now seeing you making up and going back to the ordinary was more than enough for her. 

There was no missing the fond, soft look in her son's eyes. It was nothing but pure affection and admiration, and it was clear how much he cared for you. She had never seen such adoration from him, and she should have guessed that it'd be you. 

From the first time your name had ever slipped past his lips, she should've known just by the way he spoke about you. And now, there you were. The two of you, as you were meant to be. 

You and Lando bade each other farewell, and he waited until you were safely inside the confines of your own home before walking back to his mum's car and getting in the passenger seat. "You two seem to have made up," she said, a slightly teasing tone to her voice. 

"Yeah, something like that," he agreed, knowing it was more than that. Or so he hoped. If only he knew that things weren't that simple, that the rose tinted glasses would be ripped from his face just as quickly as they had been put there. 

A/N - Hello lovely people! Chipping away at all the stuff I have half finished, which is part 2 to Hotel Girl, the requested part 2 of Ceilings, a little old Charlos thing, a Lando thing and Max's birthday special! I have to do one for old Maxie since we have the same birthday so we can roll our birthday specials into one. Have a great night, love y'all! 💖

tag list: @oh-austin @avni-sarai @cheriladycl01 @mariedeyes223 @daemyraforever56 @toriiez @robotchickenmerp

|masterlist|

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ gossip girl (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem reader

summary: sorry martin fam, the mercedes man is mine

tw : fluff

fc : georgia palmer

a/n : thank you so much to @evasmlp for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, fernandoalonso and others

martininmartin doing my PR duties by providing you with pookie nando 🧸ྀི

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user1 WE LOVE YOU ADMINNN 🫶🏻🫶🏻

user2 Nando was forced to this 🤫

user3 not his fault he was born in the wrong generation

user4 WE FOUND THE THIRD MEMBER OF WRONG DIRECTION 😚

astonmartinf1 we love pookie lonso

liked by martininmartin

user5 can we appreciate the username !?

user6 admin, do you even a martin to enjoy martini’s ?

martininmartin I work there 🫦

user7 WHATS WITH THE FREAKY EMOJI !?

user8 she said driving or riding, I do it all 🫂

fernandoalonso I thought we were not sharing it

martiniinmartin sorry

user9 the response -

user10 here is some Vaseline for the dry ass response

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martininmartin sorry martin fam 🫧🫶🏻🤍 ( can anyone blame me though )

view comments

user1 nope, can’t blame you

user2 THE LOOKS MA’AM!?

user3 models should be glad she choose f1

user4 THIRSTING OVER LEWIS NOW

user5 chat, the visuals of y/n and Lewis 🫦

user6 I wonder how nando feels

user7 ma’am said I only like people with wdc 👀

fernandoalonso can you focus on what you are there for ?

martininmartin posting more pookie photos of you right away

user8 I could feel him saying that lady even I have wdc

user9 why is the jacket familiar ?

user10 IS IT LEWIS'S!?

user11 nope, it's just his collection with puma

user12 talk about rich fans

liked by lewishamilton, user1, user2 and others

martininmartin chat, how do I get him to look at me like that

view comments

user1 HAVE YOU LOOKED AT YOURSEFL !?

user2 IF LOOKS COULD KILL, WE WOULDN’T WANT TO BE DAN HUMPHREY

user3 GOSSIP GIRL XOXO

lewishamilton I will make sure to visit the martin paddock!

martininmartin of course Lewis !

user4 I can just tell by looking she was shaking while typing that

user5 she is probably screaming in her pillow right now

user6 WELCOME BACK QUEEN SERENA

user7 I got 99 problems but good looks ain't one 🫡

liked by lewishamilton, user1, user2, user3 and others

martininmartin I think I strayed from employer team ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻🪷 ₊˚

view comments

user1 ma’am realised that mercedes don’t pay her bills

user2 but a certain mercedes man plays her heart

user3 ferrari *

lewishamilton I am glad you liked the hat !

martininmartin anything given by the fashion king 👑

user4 WE SKIPPED A WHOLE NETFLIX SHOW HERE!?

user5 SIR HAMILTON GIFTED YOU A CAP !?

user6 preparing for the marriage right away

user7 their kids would never complain about fashion 🫡

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and others

martininmartin “Three words, eight letters. Say it and I'm yours" ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ

view comments

user1 AAAAAAAA

user2 THE LOOKS

user3 MOTHER FATHER

user4 MOM DAD

user5 MOMMY DADDY

user6 we witnessed her going from fangirl to girlfriend real quick

user7 the couple we never knew we needed

lewishamilton I wonder who is the photographer

martininmartin a random guy

lewishamilton Lewis, I NEED PICTURES OF OUR FIRST DATE WITH THE SUNSET !!

martininmartin Stop Exposing Me In Public

lewishamilton the pictures would come out good when the view is smashing

liked by martininmartin

user8 LEWIS THE RIZZLER !?

user9 not Lewis thirst commenting

user10 this proved that all men shut up with their wife

user11 the caps sentence was enough to shut Lewis

mercedesamgf1 I guess now we are family right ?

liked by martininmartin

tg : @bloodyymaryyy @sainzzreputaticn

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König Part 3

Part One Part Two

It's only after THREE MONTHS in that you find out his name isn't Kevin

Why? You overheard a phone call. A phone call with his mom

Because, to put it in small terms: König is a mama's boy

Not in the gross way that boy moms do (everyone say EWWWW) or the manchildren who think their mom can do no wrong and will always side with her over on everything. We know those guys. He's not that. Not even close

No, in the 'he genuinely loves and cares about his mother because this is the person who raised him so his respect for her and love is absolutely profound'

That's the woman who raised him, that's the person who read him bedtime stories at night when he couldn't sleep, that's the lovely lady who would let him hide behind her skirts when she'd take him into the village and people would try to say hi, she's the one and only who taught him all about the many wonders of the world and how beautiful nature is

Yeah, he's going to respect her. He loves his mom and for good reason

He calls her every day if possible because she still lives quite far away in Austria :( and things haven't been the same since his dad passed away

He doesn't live near or with her, as much as it pains him, because quite frankly: he can't risk it. He still visits as much as he can, but living with her makes her a target because he's a man with blood covering his hands and there's people who will do anything to get to him

He can't risk her like that, wouldn't ever dream of it

She understands. He doesn't tell her the extent because he can't break her heart and he's afraid she might see him different, but he does tell her HOW dangerous it could be

He will always tell her about the good things he does, though! Like saving hostages! That's always great. She's so proud of him

He might be a grown ass man at 6'6" and weighing over 250 lbs that absolutely towers over her but he will always be her sweet baby boy before anything else

He is always writing her letters and sending her packages and pictures! Letters just are more heartfelt usually and she's old fashioned, she likes having something physical to hang onto especially now that her eyesight is fading

She is always sending them in return too. His favorite coffee mugs are all shaped like little forest animals and she made them! They're precious and he's so happy holding his little hedgehog mug (even if it is a bit spiky)

ANYWAYS how you found out his name wasn't Kevin was because you heard her use his name

His real name

That wasn't Kevin or even close.

And afterwards you had to go "... uh... Kevin? Who is she talking about?"

König has never been close to this flustered before, even when you fell asleep with your head on his broad shoulders when you were watching a movie together

Time to fess up.

He at first tries to go into denial, then dismissal, but it doesn't work at all

He admits defeat. You caught him, he ISN'T Kevin. Well, he's still the same person! That's just not his name

He was too embarrassed to correct you or himself so he went with it and it kept building and building

He wanted to tell you, but it's a hard topic :( he knows he would have stumbled and stuttered over his words until he fell flat on his face

You'd find it out eventually! It's not like he put 'Kevin' on his mail or anything like that

Now, most people would rightfully feel mad and lied to

But he's turning red enough to match the roses he grows and can't seem to meet your eyes. He's sweating bullets, he's genuinely embarrassed here and feels awful about it

Maybe it's against better judgement to accept such a thing so easily but he hasn't been anything but nice to you ever since you broke down his icy walls.

(Aka he's so painfully socially awkward and flustered you feel bad for him and take pity)

And just maybe you heard the "Ich bin in dich verliebt" slip out as you took his hands in yours and assured that you liked him as him, whether he's named Kevin or not, and nothing would change that

[joelsrose]

Honeyed Heat

This might be my favourite piece I’ve written so far eee, legit 7k words of tension with no outbreak daddy Joel xx enjoyyyyy

Summary: After a pool party to celebrate your final exam, you and Joel, your best friend's dad, find yourselves tangled in a simmering attraction, where stolen glances turn into something neither of you can deny 🍒

The sun hung heavy in the sky, casting a golden warmth over the campus as you and Sarah stepped out of your final exam. The weight of the past weeks—the endless nights buried beneath textbooks, and the absurd amount of caffeine that had fueled your late-night cramming—seemed to melt away with each step. The promise of summer stretched out before you like an open road, brimming with the allure of freedom and long, lazy days that felt like they would never end.

Sarah had become your anchor in this whirlwind year, a steady presence when everything else felt uncertain. The connection between the two of you had been instant, seamless, as if you'd known each other far longer than a year. She was the kind of friend who slipped into your life effortlessly, like she’d always belonged. And with Sarah came her dad, Joel—Joel. The man who was impossible to ignore.

Joel was handsome in a way that made your breath falter—rugged, without even realizing it, as though he was entirely unaware of the effect he had on people. He never seemed to notice the way women’s eyes followed him when he walked into a coffee shop or strolled through the aisles of a grocery store. Nor did he seem to pick up on the poorly concealed attempts at flirting, the smiles that lingered a little too long or the shy glances sent his way. His brown eyes held a quiet depth, layers of softness and vulnerability beneath the roughness of his exterior. His hair, touched with silver at the temples, seemed to beckon for the gentle sweep of your fingers, an irresistible invitation to trace the soft strands.

There was something about Joel—something in the way he made you feel seen, cared for, without needing to say much at all. It was in the little things: picking you and Sarah up from parties when you’d had one too many, standing patiently by the car as you clumsily climbed in. Or the way he’d cook for you during late-night study sessions, his quiet presence filling the house with a warmth that matched the scent of the home-cooked meals drifting from the kitchen. He never asked if you were cold, just silently draped his worn sweatshirt over your shoulders when the evening air grew cool, the fabric still carrying the faint scent of him. Joel wasn’t a man of many words, but in every small gesture, he spoke volumes—showing his care through actions, through the way he was always there, quietly watching over the people he held close.

There were days when you couldn’t help but linger, the familiar rumble of Joel’s truck pulling into the driveway sending a flutter of butterflies through your chest. His t-shirt would cling to the muscles of his chest and arms, sun-kissed and glistening with sweat from the heat of the day. The patchy scruff of his beard would catch the late afternoon light, making you notice the soft, worn edges of a man who had worked hard his entire life. His toolbox—always slung low on his hip—was like an extension of him. And sometimes, just sometimes, he’d glance at you from across the room, his deep brown eyes meeting yours for a beat too long, a fleeting moment where the world seemed to slow.

You knew it wasn’t right to think of him this way—Joel was Sarah’s dad, after all. But that didn’t stop the way your pulse quickened whenever he called you darlin' or sweetheart, his deep Texan drawl wrapping around the words like a caress, making them sound far too intimate. It made you wonder if he knew—if he could sense the way his presence affected you, the way your heart raced every time he spoke your name.

And at night, when everything was still, when the world felt suspended in silence, you would lie awake thinking of him. Of his hands—rough and calloused, capable yet tender. Of the way they’d feel tracing across your skin. You thought of his lips—soft and pink, almost out of place against the ruggedness of his exterior. You wondered how they’d taste, how they’d press against yours with that same quiet intensity he carried in everything he did. You could almost smell him, the scent of sweat and earth clinging to the nape of his neck, a mix of leather and something unmistakably Joel.

And even though you knew you shouldn’t—couldn’t—allow yourself to feel these things, the yearning lingered, like an ember glowing quietly, refusing to die out. It was almost embarrassing how many nights you’d woken up breathless from dreams of him, your body heated and aching with desire, more times than you cared to admit.

Because Joel wasn’t just someone you looked at. He was someone you felt—in every stolen glance, in every quiet moment that stretched just a second too long, in every breath you shared when the world fell still around you.

•••

“We did it!” Sarah squealed, her laughter ringing through the air as she twirled in the sunlight, arms thrown wide like she could capture the weightless freedom you both suddenly felt. Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts, grounding you back to the moment. “Now we can finally celebrate,” she grinned, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the pool party she'd been planning for days.

You laughed with her, feeling the same giddy relief bubbling up inside. “What should I bring?”

"Just grab some drinks on your way over. Dad’s already got the grill going," she said with a grin. The thought of Joel doing something so simple, so domestic as standing over a grill, caught you off guard. It was the casualness of it—the ease with which he did such everyday things—that sent an unexpected warmth rushing to your cheeks.

After a quick stop at the store, you stood in Sarah’s driveway, arms laden with clinking bottles and cans. The coolness of the drinks pressed into your skin, condensation leaving wet patches on your bare arms and stomach. But the weight you carried wasn’t only from the bottles. You’d chosen to dress a little bolder today, wearing your favorite red bikini beneath a pair of low-slung shorts, the button teasingly undone at the top. The sun bathed you in a soft, golden glow, warming your skin, but it was the thought of seeing Joel again that made your heart flutter, that made your stomach twist with a different kind of heat.

The bottles were heavier than you expected, digging into your hands as you struggled to balance them. With a sigh, you shifted your phone between your ear and shoulder, dialing Sarah. “Hey, I’m outside. A little help?” you laughed, breathless from the weight of the bags.

"Be right there!" Sarah's voice crackled through the speaker, the lively sounds of laughter and music spilling through in the background.

You adjusted the bags again, trying to hold on just a little longer. But just as you were about to set everything down, the front door creaked open. And there he was—Joel.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him, the world slowing to a crawl as he stepped out onto the porch. He looked like he belonged in the golden light, the late afternoon sun casting a halo around him, emphasizing the hard lines of his frame. His worn t-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest, clinging to the defined muscles beneath, while his faded jeans sat low on his hips, revealing a hint of tan skin where the fabric lifted, the waistband of his underwear just barely visible. His dark hair was tousled, as if he’d run his hand through it, and his eyes—God, those eyes. They swept over you slowly, taking in every inch of your appearance in a way that made your skin tingle, lingering just a moment too long on the bikini peeking out from beneath your shorts.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop. The air between you shifted, warm and thick, heavy with something unspoken and impossible to ignore. And in that fleeting glance, it wasn’t the summer sun that heated your skin—it was Joel’s gaze, intense and unwavering, that sent a slow, simmering heat through you, making your heart stumble in its rhythm.

“Hey, darlin’,” Joel’s voice wrapped around you like silk, smooth and low, his Southern drawl turning the greeting into something far more intimate than it had any right to be. He leaned casually against the doorframe, a playful smile tugged at his lips as his eyes drifted over you, lingering just a heartbeat too long over your chest. You shifted slightly, suddenly feeling shy under the heat of his gaze, your confidence faltering for just a moment as his eyes stayed fixed on you.

“I was wonderin’ when you’d show up,” he added, the corners of his mouth lifting a little higher, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

The casual way he said it, like he’d been waiting just for you, made your throat tighten, breath catching in a way that felt impossible to hide. “Hi, Joel,” you managed, though your voice came out softer than you’d planned, betraying the sudden rush of nerves. The bags in your arms suddenly felt heavier, as if they were the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. You shifted them, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way his mere presence seemed to pull you in, wrapping around you like the summer heat—heavy and consuming.

A knowing smile curved his lips, his eyes glinting with a kind of playful understanding that sent your stomach into a free fall. “Looks like you could use some help,” he said, stepping closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of him—woodsy and clean, mixed with the faintest trace of sweat—filling the air between you. The sun glistened on his skin, the moisture at the nape of his neck catching the light. His voice was light, teasing, but beneath it was something else,“You didn’t have to carry all that by yourself, sweetheart.”

The way sweetheart rolled off his lips was almost too much, the weight of that single word sending a flush creeping across your cheeks. You told yourself it shouldn’t affect you this way—it was Texas, after all, where sweetheart was practically a part of the local dialect. But you couldn’t shake the nagging realization that whenever Sarah's other friends came around, they were never on the receiving end of the same tender pet names. That was just for you. And the fact didn’t go unnoticed.

You let out a soft laugh, though the nervous edge in your voice was hard to hide. “I thought I could handle it,” you said, but the slight tremor in your words gave you away. His eyes, so piercing and unrelenting, felt like they saw right through you, leaving you feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on your skin.

"Well, I could let you keep struggling," Joel teased, his eyes glinting with that familiar, easy charm. “But I’d rather help. Seems like you’ve earned a break after all that hard work.”

A fresh wave of heat rose to your cheeks, his words slipping past the cracks in your composure and leaving you momentarily flustered. “Wow, Mr. Miller, to the rescue,” you shot back, trying to match his teasing, though your voice softened despite yourself. The rhythm of your heartbeat hadn't settled.

Joel chuckled, a low, rich sound that made something inside you flutter. His hand lingered on yours for just a moment too long, the touch warm and deliberate before he shifted the bags onto his arm with effortless ease. That brief contact, the feel of his skin against yours, sent a shiver racing through you, leaving you a little breathless.

"Anything for you," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, the playful tone still there but now tinged with something more. His lopsided grin appeared—the one that never failed to make your insides twist in the most deliciously confusing way. The words seemed casual enough, but the way his eyes stayed locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze, told you there was something deeper behind them, something unspoken.

You followed him inside, watching as he carried the bags with ease, his old t-shirt clinging to the broad expanse of his back, the fabric stretching over every hard line of muscle. The urge to run your fingers along his back, to trace every dip and curve, flared up inside you, leaving you slightly breathless. The familiar warmth of the house embraced you, the smell of grilled food wafting in from the backyard, but it did little to steady your racing pulse. The memory of his brief touch still lingered, refusing to fade, a constant reminder of the tension between you.

You set the bags down on the counter, the clinking of glass bottles filling the space between you as Joel leaned casually against the counter, palms pressed into the surface, his eyes never leaving yours.

“So, how’d the exam go?” he asked, his voice lower now, softer, as though the world had melted away and it was just the two of you in that moment. His question was simple, but the way he asked it—the way he stared so deeply into your eyes—made it feel like it carried far more weight than it should have.

You exhaled, trying to ease the tension that coiled tight in your chest. “Went well, I think,” you replied, “We stayed up all night cramming, so I’m just glad it’s over.”

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his gaze never wavering. “I’m sure you did great. You always do,” he said, his voice steady, filled with that quiet certainty that made your heart skip. “You’re a smart girl.”

For a moment, his hands tensed, his fingers pressing into the counter as if he was holding himself back—holding back something he didn’t dare give into. The sight sent a jolt of heat through you, your heart stuttering at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was as affected by this moment as you were.

The warmth of his words wrapped around you, comforting and sweet, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to bask in it. A soft smile played at your lips, the warmth in your chest spreading. “Thanks, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft, vulnerable in a way that made the moment feel fragile, like it could shatter at any second.

For a heartbeat, the space between you felt charged with something more—something electric, heavy, a pull that neither of you could deny. Joel’s hand lingered on the countertop, his body angling just a little closer to yours, and for that brief moment, it felt like the world around you both had disappeared, leaving only the thick, palpable tension. His gaze held yours, unblinking, intense, and in that silent exchange, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too—the quiet pull, the way every second seemed to stretch, both too long and not long enough.

“Well, I should probably get outside, say hi to Sarah before she wonders where I went,” you said, your voice breaking the thick tension in the air. It had grown too intense, too charged, and you needed to step away before the heat of the moment swallowed you whole.

Joel nodded, leaning back from the counter, but his eyes stayed on you for a second longer than they should have. “Oh, yeah, of course,” he replied, his tone casual, but there was an edge in his voice, something restrained and unspoken.

You turned toward the door to the backyard, but his voice followed you, softer, more intimate. “Hey, before you go… you want me to make you a drink? I know you don’t like beer.”

The fact that he remembered—knew—you didn’t like beer sent a warm flush through your chest. It was the small things, the way he noticed the details about you that others often overlooked, that made your pulse quicken. You could already feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Oh, yeah, that’d be nice,” you managed, trying to keep your voice casual despite the flutter in your chest.

Joel's lips curled into that familiar, lopsided grin. “I’ll whip somethin’ up for you,” he said, his tone easy, but the promise behind it made your heart skip. “Don’t worry, it’ll be good. With cherries, just how you like.”

Joel’s grin deepened as he spoke, and the mention of cherries stirred a wave of memories—hot summer nights spent at Sarah’s, cartons of cherries devoured between the two of you as you laughed in the kitchen. He’d pass through, always noticing, always watching, the small details of your habits quietly catalogued. It struck you now, just how well he knew you—how effortlessly he’d taken in every part of you without a word. He had been there in the background, catching those fleeting moments when you thought no one was paying attention. His easy smile and that simple promise now carried a weight, a reminder that Joel saw you—really saw you.

You smiled, nodding as you turned to head outside, your hand just brushing the cool metal of the doorknob when his voice, low and steady, stopped you in your tracks.

“By the way…”

Something in his tone made your pulse quicken, and you glanced back over your shoulder, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his.

Joel’s gaze lingered, warm and intense. “You look real good in red.”

The words, simple but loaded, hung in the air between you, setting off a ripple of heat that raced through your chest.

His voice was low, rough, each word hanging in the air with a weight that felt deliberate, like he knew the effect it would have on you. But it wasn’t just the compliment—it was the way he said it, the way his gaze darkened, hungry, trailing over you as if he were committing every detail to memory. There was an undeniable heat in his eyes, simmering just beneath the surface, a tension that wrapped around you, making your skin tingle.

His look wasn’t just appreciative; it was intense, like he was holding something back, barely restraining the force of whatever was brewing between you. For a moment, the world blurred, the sounds of the party fading into the background, leaving only the charged energy that seemed to pulse in the space between you.

You bit your lip, desperate to maintain composure, but the way he looked at you—like he was devouring you with his eyes—made it impossible to fight the pull.

You managed a breathless smile before turning away, stepping outside, but your pulse raced, knowing that his eyes were still on you long after you’d left the room.

•••

The party was in full swing now. Music thumped through the backyard, a steady pulse that mixed with the laughter and splashes from the pool. You smiled as you spotted Sarah and your friends across the lawn, their voices already bright with excitement as they waved you over. The blush from Joel’s earlier compliment still lingered on your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat every time your mind wandered back to the way his eyes had lingered on you.

“Hey!” they greeted you, their energy infectious.

But even as you returned their greetings, you could feel it again—his eyes on you. It was a heavy, almost tangible gaze that sent a thrill shooting through your veins, making your skin tingle with awareness. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly what you were about to do. With a slow, deliberate movement, you shimmied out of your shorts, letting the fabric slide down your legs before they dropped to the grass at your feet. Every motion was intentional, your heart racing as you knew Joel was watching from across the yard. The warmth of his gaze felt like a caress, a secret thrill that made your pulse race wildly.

Settling back onto your towel, you leaned back on your elbows, allowing the sun to drape over you like a warm embrace. The vibrant red of your bikini shimmered under the golden light, drawing attention to the curves it barely covered. Conversations flowed effortlessly around you, laughter spilling into the air, but it all felt distant, a soft blur against the sharp current of awareness coursing through you. His gaze was on you again, heavy and deliberate.

Joel stood across the lawn, stationed at the grill, his hands moving with effortless precision as he flipped burgers and steaks. His expression seemed focused, but you could feel it—the magnetic pull of his gaze, like gravity drawing him back to you. Every so often, his eyes would drift over, sending a jolt of heat through your veins. You could barely hide the effect it had on you, your lips catching between your teeth as you fought to stay composed. Your sunglasses were tipped down, offering you just enough cover to glance back without being obvious, but each stolen look felt like it added fuel to the fire. The warmth pooled low in your stomach, undeniable, as you felt his eyes linger on you, as if he was just as affected as you were.

One of your friends, Emily, leaned in closer to Sarah with a mischievous grin, her voice low but playful. "I know this sounds weird, but your dad is seriously hot, Sarah."

Sarah groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. "Emily, oh my God, please! Can we not talk about my dad like that? You’re such a freak."

But before the laughter had a chance to fade, Joel—as if on cue—grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and, in one effortless motion, pulled it over his head. The shirt slid over his broad shoulders, revealing the defined lines of his chest and arms, his muscles catching the golden light. His skin gleamed under the sun, sweat tracing a slow path along the nape of his neck. He tossed the shirt over his shoulder with a casual ease, then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was as if he were silently responding to your earlier move, acknowledging your little game with a bold, unspoken challenge of his own.

The group burst into laughter at the perfectly timed move, but for you, time seemed to slow. Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching in your throat as a familiar ache settled low in your stomach. Joel looked heavenly in the sunlight, every muscle moving with a quiet, unspoken power that left you utterly breathless. The scruff along his jaw, kissed by the light, made him look rugged, irresistible. His broad shoulders, the sculpted lines of his arms, the way his jeans hung low on his hips—it was overwhelming. Far too much to take in all at once.

And even as everyone around you laughed, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Biting your lip, you shifted, propping yourself up higher on your elbows, the cool softness of the grass beneath you the only thing keeping you grounded.

A few minutes later, Joel made his way over, drink in hand, cutting through the crowd with an effortless confidence. You couldn’t help but notice the way the other girls subtly straightened, adjusting their posture, smoothing their hair, all trying to catch his attention. But none of it mattered. His gaze was locked on you, unwavering, as if you were the only one there.

He stopped beside you, holding out the drink, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips—the kind that never failed to send your pulse skittering. “Here you go, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, the endearment dripping with that honeyed warmth that seemed to melt into you. His deep Southern drawl wrapped around each word, slow and deliberate, like a caress that sent a shiver racing down your spine, reminding you—as if you could ever forget—just how much power he held over you with nothing more than a look, a word.

You reached for the drink, your fingers brushing against his for just a second, but it was enough to send a spark through you, warm and undeniable. “Thanks, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as a smile tugged at your lips. Then, slowly, you plucked one of the cherries from the drink, pressing it against your lips, lingering for just a moment before biting into it, your gaze lifting to meet his. The sweetness of the cherry was nothing compared to the heat in his eyes, the way they darkened as he watched you.

He lingered for just a second longer than necessary, his eyes locked on yours. In that brief moment, the world seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you in the thick summer heat. Inches away, Sarah and your friends laughed, blissfully unaware of the quiet storm building between you and Joel. You wondered if they could sense it—the way the air shifted, charged with something unspoken, every time he was near.

Before turning to head back to the grill, Joel lingered for a moment longer, his gaze holding yours like a secret. When he finally moved, you watched him go. Your eyes traced the broad lines of his back, the way his muscles rippled and shifted beneath his sun-kissed skin with every step.

•••

As the sun sank lower, bathing the backyard in a soft, golden glow, you and Sarah sat side by side at the pool’s edge, your shoulders brushing as your feet lazily dipped in and out of the cool water. Each gentle kick sent ripples across the surface, catching the fading light and scattering it like tiny diamonds. Most of the party had drifted indoors, leaving the two of you in the quiet embrace of the evening. The soft murmur of distant conversation mingled with the lapping of the water, while the newly lit fairy lights twinkled above, casting a dreamy, ethereal haze over the scene. It felt like you were suspended in a moment of calm, wrapped in the magic of the setting sun.

Sarah nudged you gently, breaking the comfortable quiet between you. “Someone’s been staring at you,” she teased, her voice dripping with playful mischief, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

You froze, your heart stumbling over itself as her words sank in. The first person that came to mind was Joel, and without thinking, your eyes swept across the yard in search of him. When you didn’t see him, a flicker of disappointment bloomed in your chest, the sudden emptiness of his absence unsettling in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe he had gone inside—but the thought left a hollow ache that lingered longer than it should have.

“Huh? Who?” you asked, your voice barely masking the distraction as your eyes lingered on the empty spot where Joel had been grilling earlier.

Sarah smirked, nodding toward the pool where Henry—a boy from your class—was lazily swimming with a few of the others. Henry had always been the guy everyone seemed to crush on, with his tousled curls, easy grin, and laid-back charm that drew admirers effortlessly. But as your eyes drifted over him now, you felt... nothing. No flicker of excitement, no quickening pulse. Not like the flame that sparked to life in your chest whenever Joel crossed your mind.

Henry caught your eye and flashed a grin, then began making his way toward you through the water. Sarah, ever the instigator, raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk. “I’ll let you two lovebirds catch up,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge before pushing herself up and heading inside, her laughter trailing behind her.

As Henry reached the edge of the pool, he propped his arms on the ledge, droplets of water trailing down his toned forearms. His grin was wide, his eyes shining with an easy charm.

"Hey," he greeted, breathless from his swim, his damp curls clinging to his forehead as he looked up at you.

"Hey, Henry," you replied, offering a polite smile, though your heart wasn’t entirely in it.

"So, how’d you find the exam?" he asked, his voice casual but with a flicker of genuine curiosity behind it.

You shifted slightly, trying to focus on the conversation, but your mind kept drifting, thoughts wrapped up in someone else. The tension of the exam now felt distant, almost trivial in comparison to the weight of everything else. “It wasn’t too bad,” you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Definitely tough, but manageable. How about you?”

Henry laughed, though you hadn’t said anything particularly funny, running a hand through his damp curls as water droplets glistened in the fading light. “I think I blanked halfway through,” he admitted with an easy grin. “But hey, I’ll survive. You, though? Bet you aced it—like always.”

You smiled politely, though Henry's compliment didn’t have the same effect as Joel’s had earlier. There was nothing wrong with Henry—he was kind, charming even—but the conversation felt predictable, lacking the quiet tension that seemed to fill the air whenever Joel was around.

The hum of the fairy lights and the soft splashes of water filled the space between you and Henry, but your thoughts were already somewhere else, with someone else who wasn’t there.

You and Henry continued your casual conversation, his light-hearted jokes filling the gaps in your distracted mind. Eventually, you both climbed out of the pool, the chill of the evening breeze making you shiver slightly. Sarah, ever the thoughtful friend, had handed you one of her oversized jumpers to throw on over your bikini, the fabric soft and comforting as it fell past your hips. You slipped back into your shorts from earlier, feeling a bit more at ease, though your eyes instinctively wandered, searching for him before you could stop yourself.

•••

The night had taken on a new rhythm—quieter now, with a few people huddled together beneath the soft glow of fairy lights strung overhead. You all found yourselves back outside, beers in hand, the low hum of conversation and bursts of laughter blending with the distant thrum of music, the atmosphere growing more intimate as the evening deepened.

Against your wishes, Henry found his way to the seat beside you on the loveseat, his arm casually draped across the back, settling in far too comfortably. You tried to focus on the easy conversation, but a restless energy stirred in your chest, a flutter that had nothing to do with Henry's presence. You looked at him—handsome in a boyish way, with hazel eyes and a nice smile—but he just didn’t stir anything within you. There was no spark, no pull, nothing.

Your eyes flicked up, almost involuntarily, to where Joel stood across from you. He leaned against the railing, beer in hand, his knuckles white around the bottle as his jaw clenched tightly. He was watching—his eyes dark, intense, taking in the situation with a smoldering heat that made your breath hitch. There was something in his gaze, something simmering beneath the surface, as his eyes flickered to Henry, and the tension in the air thickened, palpable and undeniable.

Just as Henry, emboldened by the relaxed atmosphere, leaned in a little closer, his voice dropped, "Hey, what do you think about getting out of here?" The question hung in the air for a second, his intent clear. But before you could even process it, Joel’s deep voice cut through the night, commanding attention in a way that made Henry immediately tense.

“Hey, kid,” Joel's voice was steady, but there was a weight to it that couldn’t be ignored. The air seemed to shift as his words cut through the casual conversation. “You mind givin’ me a hand movin’ some stuff inside? Need to clear a few things out before we wrap up.” The tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument, an unspoken authority lacing every syllable.

Henry let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused with himself. "We’re kind of in the middle of something, Mr. Miller." The casual dismissal in his tone caught you off guard, the subtle disrespect so out of place that it left you blinking in surprise. The shift was jarring, especially directed at Joel, who stood there, unwavering. His expression tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features, though he remained calm, his eyes locked on Henry.

The tension spiked instantly, sharp and crackling in the air between the three of you. Henry’s flippant response seemed to hang there, almost daring someone to challenge it, but it was Joel’s steady, unyielding gaze that had your heart racing. His eyes moved from Henry to you, a hardness settling in his expression, though his voice remained calm—Joel never needed to raise his voice. The quiet intensity in his presence was enough to shift the entire mood.

Sensing the tension thickening, you jumped in quickly, your voice warm, soft, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at Joel. “Uh, I’m more than happy to help you, Joel.”

You noticed the shift in Joel’s eyes almost instantly. The hard, unyielding edge that had settled in them softened, the tension that had coiled through his body beginning to ease. His lips curved, just the faintest hint of a smile, but it was enough—a quiet, unmistakable appreciation flickered in his gaze.

Joel's gaze held yours for a beat longer, something warm and unspoken passing between you. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice deep, threaded with gratitude that made your breath catch. The way he said it sent a familiar warmth blooming in your chest, a feeling only he seemed to stir.

Henry, clearly miffed by the turn of events, stayed seated, his posture stiffening in silent protest. You could hear him muttering something under his breath, a mix of frustration and disbelief, but it didn’t matter. His words barely registered. You were already on your feet, drawn toward Joel as he headed toward the yard. The silent exchange between you still hummed in the air, your heart racing as you followed him, leaving Henry’s bitterness behind.

•••

“That fucking kid,” Joel muttered, his voice low and rough with irritation. The two of you had wandered away from the party, now standing in the quieter, more secluded part of the yard, far from the buzz of laughter and music. The soft glow of the fairy lights flickered around you, casting shadows across his tense frame as you both gathered a few things to take back inside. The atmosphere felt heavier here, more intimate—just the two of you in the stillness.

You glanced over at him, searching for the right words. “Yeah, that was…” you trailed off, letting the unfinished sentence linger in the air. The tension from Henry’s rudeness still clung to the moment, thick and unspoken. Joel’s frustration was almost tangible, the energy radiating off him like heat, making the space between you hum with a quiet intensity, as though the air itself was charged.

“You know him well?” Joel asked, his voice low, carrying a subtle edge beneath the quiet tone—curiosity mixed with something deeper, something that felt a lot like jealousy. He didn’t look at you right away, his hands busy collecting plates from the table, but you could see the tension in his posture. The way his shoulders were set, the hard line of his jaw—it was clear he was holding something back, waiting for your answer.

You swallowed, struggling to maintain your composure, but it was impossible to ignore how damn good Joel looked when he was angry. The way his muscles tightened beneath his shirt, the fire in his eyes—it was undeniably attractive. Too attractive. Your heart raced in a way it shouldn’t have, and you had to remind yourself to stay focused on the conversation.

"Not really," you murmured, glancing at Joel. Your voice was softer, almost tentative, as you continued, "He’s just a guy from my class. We’ve talked a couple of times, nothing more." You watched for his reaction, sensing the weight of your words as they hung in the air between you, hoping he understood just how little Henry meant in comparison.

Joel paused, standing a little taller as he straightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was no hiding the flicker of jealousy that flashed through his gaze, despite his attempt to maintain that calm, composed exterior. “Didn’t look like ‘just a few times’ to me,” he muttered, his voice lower now, a possessive edge threading through his words that sent a thrill straight through you.

You bit your lip, the heat between you simmering, thickening with every second. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming, Joel now standing so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His presence consumed you, and the storm brewing in his eyes was impossible to ignore. God, he looked incredible like this—his frustration, his protectiveness, all of it coiling around you, making your thoughts blur and your senses feel hazy.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though the tension between you both was undeniable. “Well, he’s not really my type anyway,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Joel’s eyes flickered with something—curiosity, amusement, maybe even a touch of relief. His attention shifting fully to you now, his stance softening just slightly.

“Oh yeah?” Joel’s voice was low and rough, laced with a teasing edge. He took a step closer, just enough for the heat of his body to radiate toward you, making the cool night air feel heavy, almost suffocating with the weight of everything left unsaid. “And what’s your type, then?” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours, the question hanging between you like a dare, thick with anticipation.

You swallowed, your heartbeat quickening at the weight of his question. There was a teasing lilt in his voice, sure, but underneath it, something far more intense simmered—something real. He wasn’t asking just to flirt. He wanted to know, needed to know. His gaze held yours, searching, waiting.

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of his question settle between you. “I don’t know,” you said, your voice soft but steady, emboldened by the heat of the moment, your eyes locked on his. “Someone who knows how to take care of me.”

The words tumbled out with a confidence that startled you, emboldened by the sweet burn of the drink Joel had crafted earlier and the fire in his gaze that hadn’t wavered all day. The air between you crackled, thick with unspoken desire, pulling you closer. It was as if the world around you had softened, blurring into the background, leaving only the intense, quiet space shared between you.

Joel’s eyes flickered to your lips, a brief movement that sent a shiver through you, a silent acknowledgment of the line you were both tiptoeing around. His breath seemed to hitch, the moment hanging heavy between you, full of all the things you couldn’t say out loud but felt in every charged glance, every subtle touch.

You watched Joel carefully as the weight of the moment pressed between you, the air thick with tension that neither of you could deny. His eyes flicked down to your lips again, and for a second, you thought he might close the distance, that he might give in to the pull that had been simmering between you all day.

Then, almost too quietly, he murmured, “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

The words barely escaped him, so low you almost missed them, but the impact was instant. Your breath caught in your throat, and a sharp thrill shot through you. You blinked, stunned, your heart racing in your chest as you replayed the words in your head, trying to make sure you had heard him correctly.

But Joel wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. His jaw was clenched tight, and his hand flexed at his side like he was restraining himself, holding back everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to do.

“Joel...” you whispered, the emboldened feeling from earlier still simmering beneath your skin. You took a small step closer, feeling the distance between you shrink even further.

His breath hitched, and he shook his head, his voice rough, barely restrained. "You're drivin' me fucking crazy," he muttered, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours, dark with the weight of what he was feeling. “Showin’ up here in that red bikini, lookin’ like that, expectin’ me to just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

You swallowed hard, your pulse thudding in your ears. The rawness in his voice sent a thrill through you, and you took another small step forward, the space between you almost nonexistent now.

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel admitted, his voice low and ragged, like the words were being torn out of him. "Every time I look at you, it gets worse."

The intensity in his gaze, the way his words trembled with restraint, made your heart race. You had never seen him like this—so close to breaking, so close to giving in to whatever was burning between you both.

You reached up, hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over the rough stubble lining his jaw. It was the closest you'd ever been, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a surge of heat through your entire body. His breath hitched at the touch, his eyes widening just for a moment as the intimacy of the moment settled between you both.

But then his gaze softened, the tension in his jaw easing slightly as he leaned into your touch. The roughness of his exterior seemed to melt away under the gentleness of your hands.

You could really look at him now. Really see him. His brown eyes, once clouded with tension, had softened in the fading light. His skin, kissed by the sun, was a little red around the edges, glowing faintly beneath your touch. He seemed to melt beneath your hands, his rigid posture easing as if, for a moment, the weight of the world had disappeared.

Neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken tension, a silent exchange that didn’t need words. Then, unexpectedly, a soft laugh escaped him, the sound breaking through the intensity of the moment. "And now you're wearin' my damn jumper," he said, his voice laced with amusement, the warmth in his tone catching you off guard.

You froze, glancing down, and realized with a start that the oversized hoodie you were wearing wasn’t Sarah’s—it was Joel’s. The fabric swamped you, the sleeves hanging long past your hands, worn soft from use and carrying that faint, unmistakable scent of him. How had you not noticed?

You let out a soft laugh, the tension between you easing just a little as warmth spread across your cheeks. "Guess I am," you said, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as your hands drifted up to drape around his neck, keeping him close.

"I look good in it?" you teased, your voice light but edged with something more vulnerable, lashes fluttering as you searched his eyes for an answer.

Joel’s eyes softened, warmth flooding his expression, though the hunger simmering just beneath the surface was undeniable. “You know damn well you do,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a surge of heat straight to your core. His large, calloused hands found their way to your hips, warm and firm, their rough texture grounding you in place.

The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into your skin, your heart racing as if trying to match the intensity of his gaze. You felt the world around you fade away, leaving only the sensation of his fingers pressing gently into you, his breath steady but rough. And in that moment, everything—the tension, the looks, the unspoken feelings—hung in the air between you, thick and electric.

Joel’s hand slid up, fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that stole your breath. His touch lingered, soft and deliberate, as his thumb grazed your bottom lip with a featherlight caress. Every movement was unhurried, like he was committing the moment to memory, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

“Let me be the one that takes care of you, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough, thick with emotion. His eyes searched yours, and you felt the weight of his words, the unspoken promise behind them. His thumb lingered on your lip, as if waiting for your answer, waiting for you to let him in.

The air between you buzzed, thick with the tension that had been building for months.

Before you could say anything, before the words even had a chance to form on your lips, Joel leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was soft, but full of everything you both had been holding back for so long.

The kiss deepened as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the feel of him—the roughness of his stubble, the heat of his body, the gentle yet insistent way his mouth moved over yours. It was like everything had been leading to this moment, all the glances, the tension, the stolen touches.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your foreheads rested together, the soft night air cooling the fire between you. Neither of you spoke, but you didn’t have to—the unspoken words, the promises, and the feelings that had simmered for so long were clear in the way he held you, in the way his thumb traced gentle circles on your waist.

And as his arms tightened around you, grounding you in his warmth, you knew—he was the one who would take care of you, in all the ways you had always needed but never dared to ask.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter two:

➴ warnings: toxic mom, mentions of mental health issues.

➴ word count: 3.7k

➴ author’s note: thought of making this chapter 4k+ words long but then i felt bad for u guys so i made it shorter 🫂 hope u like it and thank u for reading!

౨ৎ

2024, MARCH

THE AIRPORT was filled with people, as it always was, but you were so used to Los Angeles’ fast pace that it didn’t bother you. With your suitcase in your left hand and your purse in the other, you walked towards the check-in area, after trying to locate your flight to Toronto on the panels.

Strangely enough, there weren't any flights to Toronto at one two forty-eight p.m., which was the time on the ticket your mom had sent you. You frowned but let it go, thinking that maybe they had some technical issues and forgot to put the flight there.

After waiting in line for about fifteen minutes, one of the staff finally called you. “Passport, please,”

You nodded and handed him your passport, waiting for your boarding pass. When he gave it to you, after weighing your suitcase and putting a tag on it, you called him again, confused.

“Excuse me, sir,” He looked at you, waiting for you to keep going. “This boarding pass says the flight is to Vancouver.”

He raised his eyebrow. “So?”

You chuckled. “I’m going to Toronto, not Vancouver,” you tried to explain, returning the ticket. “There’s been a mistake.”

“Ma’am,” he started, voice sounding a little bit too annoyed to your liking. “Your name is on the list for the flight AC 472, to Vancouver, Canada. You’re Madison Carter, right?”

“Yeah, I am, but—”

“Maybe you bought the wrong ticket but I can assure you, ma’am, this plane is flying to Vancouver.”

You stared at him, wanting to shout that you weren’t the one who had bought the ticket, your mom did; and you didn’t even want to be in Canada in the first place because you’d much rather clean the airport’s floor with your own tongue than to go back to the life you had in Toronto.

But unfortunately the worker didn’t have anything to do with your shitty past, so you just nodded and wished him a good day. Next thing, you grabbed your phone and called failed your mom’s number, praying that she’d pick up and tell you that it was a mistake and that she bought the wrong ticket and—

“Jessica Carter.”

“It’s Madison,” you greeted, trying your hardest to stay collected. “Mom, the ticket you bought me is to Vancouver, not Toronto.”

She went silent for a while, and you frowned.

“Mom, the ticket—”

“Yes, Madison, I heard the first time you spoke,” she made a tsc sound with her tongue. “What’s the matter?”

“What— what do you mean, what’s the matter? Isn’t the dinner in Toronto?”

“No.”

You heart was beating so fast inside your chest and your hands were starting to feel sticky and cold. You looked around the place, people coming and going, while no one seemed to notice the turmoil happening inside of your chest.

“We’re having dinner in Vancouver, at the place I texted you. Didn’t you check it?” She sounded annoyed. And no, of course you hadn’t checked, you didn’t need to. You knew it was going to be another fancy ass restaurant with fancy ass people and small ass meals that tasted ten times less than the price you paid for them.

“But why?” Your voice trembled, and you coughed to cover it. “Aren’t you guys in Toronto?”

“Madison, everyday I pray to God that one day you will finally actually love your family,” she hissed, and your heart actually stop. Or at least that’s how you felt. “Your dad isn’t working with the Toronto hockey team anymore, he quit last year and it was all over the news. I know you don’t care about your family but you could at least pretend to. What if a reporter asked you questions about us? What do you think it’d look like with the press when your dad’s own daughter doesn’t care about her dad?”

You wanted to scream at her, turn the phone off, leave the airport and pick Bella up at the dog hotel she was staying in and take her home so you could both cuddle for the entire weekend. You wanted to tell her that no one in that family knew what the word love meant, no one even cared about it. And even if you had known love once, it was gone now, and all you could do is continue with your life.

“Get on that plane, Madison. I’ll see you at Hawksworth at seven p.m. tonight and you better not be late. Have a safe flight.” She said before hanging up on you.

You stared at your phone’s screen until it went completely black. Sometimes, you asked yourself why you still did what your mom wanted. You were twenty-two, you had your own job and your own money. You wouldn’t exaclt lose anything if you stopped talking to her.

But then, every time you thought about not doing what she asked you to, or even stopping talking to her, you felt like the worst daughter in the whole green world. You felt ungrateful, and a feeling that left your chest so hollow you couldn’t breathe.

So you kept walking behind her, stepping only where she asked you to.

Sighing, you went back to walking towards the security area. There wasn’t anything that could be done and honestly, you were too exhausted to even think of something.

So, Vancouver it is.

౨ৎ

THE TAXI smelled like fried peanuts making you scrunch your nose.

You looked through the window, looking at the city you’d been born in and how much it’s changed. As much as you hated to admit, Vancouver had always been extremely beautiful.

You were on your way to the restaurant, feeling like you’d lost a thousand battles. When you arrived at your hotel earlier they had mistaken you for someone else and put you in the worst bedroom ever. And if that wasn’t enough, you had to take a cold shower because the shower heater wasn't working and now you were shivering because it was March and Vancouver was still cold as hell.

“Miss?”

You turned your head around, facing the driver. He was making a funny face at you and you were just about to ask what was so funny when he pointed outside. You followed his finger and well, there it was. The Hawksworth restaurant your mom loved so much. Ignoring the tug on your chest, you thanked the man and got out of the car.

Thanking past you for choosing a warm dress and comfortable heels, you made your way inside the restaurant, politely greeting the people you saw on your way to the hostess.

“Good evening,” you said, smiling at the blonde girl in front of you. “Madison Carter.”

“Good evening, ma’am. They’re waiting for you in the private room. Do you need someone to take you there?” She crossed your name on some fancy sheet and you shook your head. You’ve been going to this place ever since you were a child. You knew it like the back of your hand.

After a quiet thank you, you resumed your walk, mentally preparing yourself for what this evening was going to be. Your mom making sure to control all of your doings, your dad only talking about himself and his work and Peter— hell, you didn’t even know if Peter would be here.

It’s not like your mom treated him the same way as she treated you anyway, so if he wanted to get away with not coming to this dinner, he would.

When you turned to the left so you could enter the private area, your body was shocked with something, making your purse drop from your hold.

With heels so tall, you almost lost your balance, just staying in place because a hand, gentle yet extremely firm you noticed, grabbed you by the waist and pushed you to the side.

“I’m so sorry, are you—”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, no matter how much it’d changed. Looking up, you stared into Quinn’s blue eyes and held your breath.

“Madison.”

He said your name like it had poison in it, and it hurt. You still remember the last time you saw him and his family back in 2017, with him taking care of you while you were sick. How you tried so hard to memorize his features because you knew seeing him again in person would be nothing but close to impossible.

And yet here he was, standing right in front of you, wearing a fancy suit and many, many inches taller than you. His curls were carefully styled, pushed back with only a strand of hair falling down his forehead.

He had a stubble decorating his chin and it fitted him so perfectly, making him look older and mature.

Quinn Hughes still looked like the man you fell in love with when you were fifteen. And you weren’t exactly sure what to do with this information.

“Quinn.” You whispered, because you didn’t trust yourself enough to speak without stuttering.

“Jesus, finally, Madison, we’ve been waiting for you for ten minutes,” your mom’s voice filled the space and you jumped back, removing yourself from Quinn’s grip and remembering that you were still in the hallway of a famous restaurant, with people coming and going. “I see that you and Quinn are happy to see each other again.”

You bend down to grab your purse, choosing not to look at him while your mom talks. You had already seen enough in his eyes.

You got up and followed your mom, your body highly aware that the man you hadn’t seen for seven years, your best friend, was just a few steps behind you.

When you got to your table, you tried your hardest not to gasp out loud. Because your mind was probably playing games with you and you weren’t seeing the Hughes sitting with your dad and brother—

“Maddie!” You heard Jack shouting, looking like he didn’t care that they were at a five star restaurant.

You let out a wet chuckle, feeling your eyes wet with unshod tears. There they were; Luke, Jack, Ellen, Jim and… well. Quinn.

“Oh my God,” Ellen got up, immediately reaching for you. “You’re so pretty. And so grown up too!”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes,” you smiled, squeezing her just as hard. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You were always beautiful but,” she whistled, making you give her a little twirl. “Damn right.”

You giggled, feeling your chest a hot lighter. Despite being hurtful, this was a pleasant surprise.

“Hey, Mr. Hughes,” you greeted Jim, kissing him lightly on the cheek, just to watch the blush adorne his face like you knew it would. “Luke and Jack. You guys are taller than me now.”

“Hey, Maddie,” Luke got up, hugging you quickly, like a teenage boy who had just seen his first woman. “You’re all grown up too.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Jack asked, patting the seat beside him. You gave your own family a brief nod before sitting down, placing your purse on the chair and smiling at Jack, ignoring the fact that Quinn was sitting in front of you.

“I moved to LA a few years ago,” you explained, noticing how they were all paying attention to you. As they had always done. “I’m working as a model now.”

“Baby, we know!” Ellen smiled, squeezing Jim’s arms. “When I saw you on VOGUE last year I thought, this girl looks a lot like Madison. And then I realized. That was you!”

You smiled, bringing your shoulders to your ears, cheeks red and all.

“What do you think of LA, honey?” Ellen asked, resting her chin on her hand.

“I love it there,” you smiled. “Los Angeles is so full of life and opportunities. Not to mention the fact that I ran into super famous people all the time,” you giggled, remembering that one time you ran into Jennifer Aniston while you were grocery shopping.

“You are famous now too, M,” Jack jokes, making you laugh. “Are people there nice to you?”

You stared at his blue, gorgeous eyes and smiled, frankly. They were worried about your well-being and it made your heart flutter. Not even your own family asked these questions.

“Yeah, Jackie, they are,” you nodded. “I really love it there.”

“Then we’re happy, honey.”

They moved on to another topic of how all of you are so grown now, and how well you were all doing in your careers. Your parents were mostly talking about Peter, and how proud they are because he’s in his last year of medical school, soon to be a resident in orthopedic surgery.

You didn’t mind the fact that they preferred to talk about Peter and his accomplishments over you, in fact, you actually preferred it this way. That way they would leave you and your choices alone, which was what you wanted. Besides, you could keep stealing glances from Quinn’s beautiful, comforting face here and there. Not that he was looking at you, or even talking your way.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. After he left for Michigan, your mom made sure you didn’t have time to grieve over him leaving, no. She was making sure you were on the cover of Fashion’s at the ripe age of sixteen.

And when you thought of reaching out first, you took a peep at his and his university’s Instagram. And he was always surrounded by beautiful, talented girls who were his age and seemed to know what they were doing. And you were just like the little, ugly duck, sixteen and naive.

So you never really contacted him or his family, for that matter. You knew your parents still kept in touch with the Hughes, but they never told you anything— and you didn’t ask. But Quinn couldn’t be too upset with you because he had never reached out to you either. So you were both pretty much even.

“What are you doing after we leave here?” Jack asked beside you, after swallowing down his food.

“Honestly?” You chuckled. “I’m gonna go back to my hotel and sleep. I’m tired.”

“No way,” he almost pouted. He liked twelve years old all over again. “You’re coming with us, we’re heading to a club after this, it’s our last night together with Huggy bear,” he pointed at Quinn, who was eyeing him weirdly. “And now, it’s our last night with you too.”

“You’re leaving already?” You frowned.

“We’ve been here for a few days now but it’s still the season. We need to head back to Newark soon.” Luke explained, and it all made sense. Sometimes you forget that they’re famous, talented hockey players.

“That’s great, hum—” your phone started ringing and you opened your purse to decline it, frowning when you saw Nicholas’ name flashing on the screen. He knew you were on your day off and he had never called you during days off before. So it was probably important. “Sorry, excuse me, it’s my boss.” You excused yourself before leaving the table and accepting the call.

“Madison?”

“Yeah, Nick, hi,” you walked out of the restaurant, wanting to be outside so you could hear him better, feeling the cold air hit your face immediately. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, no, nothing happened.”

“Then why are you calling me?” You giggled. “It’s my day off.”

“Oh, right,” he laughed, the high pitch noise making you smile too. “I’m calling you because we fucking did it, baby!”

“Um. What did we do?”

He scoffed like he couldn’t believe you were even asking. “What do you mean, Madison Carter! We finally signed you to La Vie en Rose!”

You audibly gasped, trying your hardest not to start jumping around.

Despite the fact that you had worked with bigger retailers before, La Vie en Rose has always been one of your and Nicholas’ biggest dreams.

“You’re lucky I’m out right now because otherwise you’d be hearing my screams there in Los Angeles,” you laughed, feeling truly happy for the first time in a while. “How did it happen? Actually, no,” you interrupted yourself. “I don’t even care about what you did. This is huge! When do I start?”

“This is where it gets better.”

“Better than working with one of my favorite designers? Try me.”

“They asked if you had any preferences for places and since you’ve been here here in LA for four years now, I thought I’d do you a favor and get you closer to your family,” he said, excitement pouring down his words. “So I said that you could get signed with their Canadian headquarters and guess what? They said yes! So now you’ll have to move to Vancouver, of course, but think with me—”

You didn’t even care about the rest of the things he was saying. The high from before disappearing like candies during Halloween, your happiness being replaced by an ugly, horrid feeling that made your stomach hurt, all the food you’d just eaten trying to find its way back outside.

“Madison? Are you there?”

“Yes,” you gritted through your teeth, taking deep breaths. “Nicholas, I can't. I cannot be in Vancouver.”

“If you’re worried about moving and your apartment and Bella, don’t worry, they’ll cover it all—”

“I’m not worried about moving, I just can’t,” your voice cracks, so you take a moment to breathe again. “I can’t be in Vancouver.”

“Madison—”

“They have their headquarters in Paris. I can move there, it’s no issue, really.” You pleaded.

“You’d rather move to Paris than to be with your family in Canada?” He sounded surprised and confused at the same time and you bit your lip, remembering your mom’s words about the press and rumors. You trusted Nicholas and you knew he wasn’t going to tell anyone anything but in the world of fashion, words flew fast. “I’m not following.”

“Yes,” you confessed. “Can you do that?”

“No, I— I already signed the deal. I thought I was doing you a favor—”

“You didn’t do me any favor, Nicholas!” You didn’t realize you were speaking louder now, raising your arm. “I’m not fucking moving to Vancouver! Fuck.”

You ran your hand through your hair, feeling bad for lashing out on him, but just the thought of living close to your family and Quinn made you lose your mind.

Nicholas sighed, speaking after an entire minute. “Listen. I don’t know where this is coming from and I’d really like to help you if you need me. But this is your dream, Madison. Ever since I met you, when you were that sweet, little dove at eighteen, you’ve been talking about this. And you know how hard we worked for this.”

“Nicholas,” you called out and he shushed you.

“And I can’t do anything about this. I’m sorry, but this is above me. I made the wrong decision of signing it without talking to you first but you were out with your family and I didn’t want to bother you.” He sighed, staying silent for a while, as you looked straight ahead, not really seeing anyone, even though the street was busy. “If you say no, it’s… they’ll choose someone else. Madison, I need you to think about this.”

You could hear the entreaty in his voice and you felt so bad. He was right.

“You need to give me an answer by Monday. I’ve already told them you’d be thrilled to move but I can always take back what I said,” he murmured, and if you knew him well enough, you’d say he’s squeezing his cheeks between his fingers right now. “It’d only be for six months, baby. Think about it.”

You were silent for a while, before realizing he was probably waiting for an answer.

“Right,” you whispered. “Okay. I’ll call you later. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I know you were just doing what you thought was the best.”

“I’m so sorry, Mads. Totally thought I was doing you a favor.”

“It’s fine,” you answer, nodding even though you knew he couldn’t see. “Bye.”

“Bye, Mads. Call me if you need anything.”

You hadn’t even turned your phone off completely before hearing a voice behind you.

“Troubles in paradise, huh?”

You turn around, facing Quinn who was now leaning against the restaurant wall, by himself. Where were the people who worked there or the other customers you didn’t know, and truthfully, you didn’t really care at that moment.

“Excuse me?” You asked, staring at him, watching as he shrugged, like he hadn’t said anything.

“I asked if you were having troubles in your little Angeleno world, since things seem to be so perfect in Los Angeles.”

“This is the first conversation we have in years and this is how you want it to go? Seriously?” You stepped closer, standing in front of him, tilting your head up so you could stare into those beautiful eyes you’d love to lose yourself in.

No, you reprimanded yourself. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” he looked down, his eyes meeting yours. “Remind me of why this is our first conversation in years, Madison,” again, he said your name like it hurt him.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Guys, what the hell,” someone shouted beside you, making both you and Quinn turn your heads around. Jack stood there, looking slightly displeased, while Luke typed something on his phone. “We’ve been looking for you for ages. Our parents left through the other entrance a while ago. It’s time to party, baby!”

“I’m not going,” you hissed, stepping back.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Luke looked up from his phone, frowning at you. “Maddie. We haven’t seen each other in years!”

“I know, I’m just tired and—”

“We need to catch up!” Jack whined, wrapping his arms around your waist, shaking you slightly. “We need to talk!”

“She doesn’t like talking, do you, Madison?” Quinn blurted out, eyes turning gray when directed at you.

For some reason that one comment turned your fight or flight mode and you had enough. “You’re so funny, Quintin,” you plastered on the biggest fake smile you could. “Actually, I’m not that tired. Let’s go.”

You followed two yelling boys and a moody one, not even acknowledging the latter. If Quinn wanted to be all pissy about the fact that you hadn’t spoken to him in years, when he also hadn’t reached out to you, then fine. Two could play that game.

taglist: @ru-kru 🤎

[buddiekinard]

i just want to say i love tommy kinard

i love him with buck and i love him as friends with eddie but also i just. love him. independently of those relationships. i love what he represents. someone who grew up with a shitty dad who then went on to be in a dadt era military and then had to work under fucking gerrard. someone who saw chim and hen defying that leadership and saw that he could also be a better person. who tried to be a better person and by the time he left the 118 for the 217 in bobby begins again, had really mended those fences and become friends with people who he helped hold back at his lowest moments because he didn't know how to NOT just follow rank and follow orders. someone who got to a new firehouse and jumped off the lessons he learned at the 118 and continued to grow and became a better person, embraced his homosexuality and lives life free and out and now has met buck and is continuing to relax (and i think that showed in 8x01, there was something about the presentation and the way he was dressed and made up that felt softer, younger even, than he seemed in season 7) and who clearly seems to be a place buck can currently land because he's done so much work on himself that he isn't guarded and stiff and hard anymore. idk i just love a character who hasn't always been *good* and may not be good every day but is actively working and trying to be good and doesn't spend all of his time thinking about the past but does acknowledge that this isn't always who he's been - and i feel like he does. his conversation with buck about gerrard last season definitely felt like him saying he wasn't good under gerrard, gerrard actively made him worse, was a regressive human being, and that he wishes he'd had more time under bobby. but you know what he got what he needed from bobby and now he's here.

idk i love tommy kinard. sassy, gorgeous, goofy, dorky, flirty, hot pilot tommy kinard and all the jagged pieces and mistakes it took to get him here.

[sarahreesbrennan]

Another Interesting Spoilery Evil Question

To directly answer the question before I start rambling, the Cobra’s body’s physical age is 24.

(You can stop reading here if you like. This gets very long!)

When Marius meets the Cobra (chapter 18 epigraph from Time of Iron) he correctly identifies him as Marius’s own age at the time - 18.

At the time of the book all the physical bodies’ ages are as follows.

Marius - 24

The Cobra - 24

Rahela - 24

Octavian - 24

(Pio and Nemeth, Octavian’s advisers, are in their early 40s and late 50s respectively - they’re Octavian’s dad’s people and that is part of why they are so stressed. Their king died young, Octavian became king in his teens and it has been an uneasy court ever since.)

Emer - 23

Key - 20

Lia - 19

Rae and Eric in our world were both 4 years younger than their bodies in this world (so they would both be 20 if the story hadn’t happened to them). For the moment we’ll leave aside Key, who had another life too, in a different way. (He was a little kid, but old enough to walk after his father, in the epigraph from Time of Iron in chapter 15.)

I do age shenanigans for two reasons.

—One is that age in fiction and reality is weird, and I wanted to portray that. If I had a crush on Mr Darcy when I was 7, is that okay? If I had a crush on Mr Darcy when aged 41, is that okay? Mr Darcy’s always in his late twenties: Elizabeth Bennet will never be older than 21, but she seemed so glamorous and all-knowing to me when I was a kid.

And if you walk into a story, when in their character development do you find them? Would we like Darcy when he’s sneering at Elizabeth at a ball? Who is it that we love and when?

Plenty of adult women fancied Edward Cullen, perpetually a teen (or was he? Fantasy and horror also open up the possibility of immortality - but in a way, all fictional characters are immortal. Holden Caulfield isn’t growing up any more than Edward Cullen is. And like fictional characters and immortals, the dead aren’t getting any older either—I think often of Anne Rice, author of the Vampire Chronicles, who wrote the doomed child vampire Claudia after losing her own daughter Michele as a child. Death, immortality, fiction and the overlap!) When I read or watched stories in which characters were in different/changed bodies they usually seemed younger - often their younger selves, or a younger/cuter body (Peggy Sue Got Married, Scarlet Heart). (Exceptions exist of course, e.g. Howl’s Moving Castle.) And I like magic losing something, costing you something, plus I’m a contrarian. So I wanted them older.

—The other is that LONG LIVE EVIL is a story about trauma, which often arrests your age in your mind. The period in which you were enduring the horrors is a blank in which you couldn’t develop normally, or in which you had plenty of experiences but few of them match with your peers’.

Cancer did it to me, which wasn’t horrendous as I was in my early 30s and that’s still adult, just meant a bit of ‘oh no I’m not this child’s mother, I’m too young - actually I’m a bit old to be this child’s mother now I think about it, but anyway I don’t claim her’ and the like. But I’ve seen it do the same for people with cancer I befriended or whom I mentor, and it’s a very different proposition if the lost years are 17-21.

It’s not just cancer, I’ve seen bereavement work that way on people, and apparently celebrity works on the mind like trauma and arrests you at the age you became famous in a lot of ways. It’s being taken out of the run of ordinary life, walking through your portal into strangeness.

But in the end most of us wind up with years that feel lost, I think, and playing catch-up is the only way forward.

And allegory remains allegory: if I’m writing a werewolf I’m taking about rage and body horror, sure, but I’m also talking about werewolves.

I was actually confused by this ask at first as I’d written a whole section where Eric says he’s going to die of a heart attack at 20 and Marius is exasperated as Eric is a little young to start lying about his age! But it must have fallen victim to my many cuts - stories transform! - and I can see why, because I don’t think Eric exactly thinks of himself as 20 anymore.

I had some struggles with the age stuff, it’s another layer of complication in a complicated story and there were worries raised that it was unnecessary and might make some characters less appealing but in the end I decided it was necessary to me and let the characters be unappealing, then.

I also enjoy the twisting, fluid ages because they cause conflict, and conflict is story.

Rae uses her new age (and thus doesn’t need to think of her absolutely horrible self worth) to count herself out as a romantic option in Key’s eyes.

She also thinks of the Emperor as in his mid-20s, as he is - after a time skip that happens in the original Time of Iron, years in which Key and Emer were Lia’s servants. She knows about those years, but she doesn’t put it together.

At Eric and Marius’s first meeting 6 years before the events of LONG LIVE EVIL, Eric also hasn’t been in the book that long. He was in a horrifically traumatic survival situation for a large part of the time he was inside, when he approached Marius to blackmail him. That is objectively a deranged thing to do, but Eric is thinking like a terrified 14 year old and also like a Huge Fan of Marius. aka the quintessential white knight, the Last Hope who is reserved and dignified and crucially, 24-28.

That would be the Marius Eric at the time knows when he approaches Marius in the flesh, Marius at 18 and coming off family trauma, friend trauma and quasi-romantic trauma himself. Marius actually DOES go into dissociative states and kill people, Eric was taking a huge risk with his own life that not a single person in the country would have taken. Marius is a Valerius, and they are killers. (The whole court, Marius included, thought Lady Katalin ((Rahela’s mother)) was being very daring by like, touching Marius’s hand when he was 17.)

Eric is acting wild partly because a) he is wild, b) he’s desperate but also crucially c) he’s thinking of Marius as someone that Marius isn’t yet and d) he’s not thinking of things from Marius’s POV, and doesn’t until the events of LONG LIVE EVIL. Their quasi friendship/quasi hostage situation (that the hostage had firmly decided was happening) couldn’t have happened without a perfect storm of weirdness, risks and lack of understanding what the hell was going on.

Marius would not have seen a 14 year old Eric (not a child to him exactly, but squire age rather than knight age) as a criminal threat in the same way as he saw the Cobra, his own age (18, which was definitely very adult, Marius thought at the time). Eric wouldn’t have failed to consider consequences or failed to consider Marius as person rather than character, if he’d actually been 18. But by the time anyone knew better, a status quo was established, and habit is second nature and a stronger nature than the first.

Eric’s plight is horrific initially. But at the same time, Eric is extremely intelligent (both intellectually and emotionally) and able to both cover and play catch-up to this new life, and he can advise Rae with the benefit of his experience - but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t screw up massively when he first came into the book, or that he doesn’t still have many things to work through.

Similarly, Emer is used to Rahela who is quasi older sister and quasi mistress, while Rae is now acting younger. And all of them are dealing with a gross system in which men are seen as in their youthful prime when women the same age are getting long in the tooth and can be traded in for teenagers - so even two people who are the same age aren’t treated as if they’re the same age, if they’re different genders. Age stuff is crunchy!

Also, while Emer thinks of Lia as having all the power due to class, Lia looks on someone who was her glamorous older stepsister’s age mate and went off to the big city years ago rather differently. But then, are adulthood and childhood different worlds? Is being in different social classes being in different worlds?

Can we reach the different universes of other people is something I’m always asking, I think.

THIS IS SO LONG. I AM SO SORRY.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What's your opinion on Dadmare aus?

I don’t think much about Dadmare aus, or not very often. I don’t have anything against them and whenever I come across content i usually think it’s cute and like the post before moving on, but i don’t seek it out and hardly engage in it.

This is mostly because i haven’t found an interpretation of dadmare aus ive been able to get invested in, most interpretations ive come across just aren’t for me.

My biggest “issues” (but not really) with most interpretations is that nightmare is almost always portrayed as a perfect dad who can do no wrong, all the other sanses are infantilized to hell and back, and as @/signanothername said in their own post, none of the characters feel like their own people.

Their relationships to eachother and Nightmare all feel very one note and cut from the same mold most of the time. All the same reactions, all completely trust Nightmare and kiss the ground he walks on.

I don’t mind found family, but I don’t like it when the found family is shoved into little boxes and cannot differ from them.

Nightmare is 500+ years old, did not grow up with any significant parent figure in his life despite winging it on taking care of Dream, and spent his 6 early years of life being routinely abused by all the adults around him. And then he was horribly transformed and corrupted.

Why would he take on a parental role again when the last time he tried something like that he was also a child, he had no other choice, and everything went to shit despite it? Wouldn’t he also struggle like any actual parent would.

If he spent 500+ years isolated and only interacting with others when forced to, or needing something from them like negativity, wouldn’t that life experience translate into trying to care for this group of traumatized men.

And they are men. They aren’t boys. They’re adults. Unless they’re supposed to be actual children when they meet Nightmare, or one or all of them are age regressed, then I don’t see the point in infantilizing them or treating them as if they’re children. None of these guys are looking for a father figure.

Adults can be found family, there doesn’t need to be any dad or child or siblings boxes to me.

Especially not when Horror already has a brother, Killer’s concept of family dynamics is also very likey screwed to hell and back (just look at what he thinks about any relationship, there’s no such thing as “equals” in his eyes, killer in dadmare dynamics would probably just view it as another role and game he has to play and “dadmare” is his new Chara), Nightmare killed his mother and his currently trying to kill his brother after trapping him in stone for years.

Dust killed his brother and is constantly haunted by his hallucination, Cross destroyed his entire AU and also came from an entirely different AU with a completely different life from the others. (Alphys being his sister, for example. Horror having lobotomized his Alphys and Killer having likely killed and tortured his many times and Dust having murdered his.)

So tldr: I don’t mind dadmare, but it personally isn’t for me. I like found family bad sanses, but not if there’s roles assigned and not if it’s not earned.

I don’t like Nightmare being the perfect father somehow and the sanses being treated like children even though they’re 30-40+ adults and aren’t looking for a father figure.

I prefer dysfunctional found family dynamics with the bad sanses.

Also that some people aren’t likely to be overly emotionally involved or invested in these dynamics for a very long time if at all, even if he plays along as if its all a game or some elaborate test being played on him— either because he thinks he has to, or because it’s something new and he’s curious. He may even get bored of the dynamics eventually, and start asking Nightmare when it’s game over.

Which could lead to something very interesting if he realizes it was never supposed to be a game or a test.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Link copy pasted himself

Fanfic prompt inspired by this … thing :

When the colors put the four swords back into the pedestal they didn’t though that link would feel guilty about them not existing anymore

So link pulled the sword again…

They put it back again because they were never real people to begin with and THEY also felt bad because link can’t exist when they do

Link pulled it out again

They put it back

Guess what link did…

He went to Zelda and then they figured out a way for the colors and link to exist at the same time

Or else they all would continue their game of hot potato

But it took time

So when the colors get copy pasted into living again they are all still 14 at most while link is already in his late twenties

Link and the colors then get too bond together and even grandpa was more then happy with his great grand kids

and eventually Vio and link figure out a way to locate shadow's soul with help from Zelda

It took even more time than figuring out cloning so the colors all are adults already

But the thing is they don’t have a body for him

So link copy pastes himself AGAIN

And shadow is a kid still

(Can’t age if you are dead and all)

so that makes him the youngest person in the house while Vio gets to play parent

Basically:

Link (first generation )

Vio Blue Red Green (second generation)

Shadow (third generation)

Imagine being so much that you as a single person end up overtaking three fucking generations

But it is all you and not you at the same time

When four went to linked universe he had the audacity to say he has kids already and one also has a kid already

Four pointing at the colors: those are my kids Vio , Red, Blue, Green

The chain : you color coordinated all of them and had the audacity to name them after colors

Four : to be fair I was like pretty young when they came to be and just named them after the colors they were wearing (the colors be like)

But unfortunately he didn’t consider the fact that he would technically be a teen dad because if the colors were 14 when he was thirty

He would have been 15 when he “had” the colors

And Vio would have been a teenager as well if going from shadow's age and his adult age

Two generations of teen parenting what a joy

The chain's older members making the uncomfortable calculations from the surprisingly small age gap between the family thinking :holy shit he was 14 with quadruples

Warriors: where was the other parent in this bullshit

Four and the colors still bitter about their dad choosing work over them and leaving them with their grandpa (no matter how nice he was) :

absent left us all ,no dad to be found,

they grew up without a dad

The chain then drew the wrong assumption that four was possibly dumped by a partner with his kids and then everyone felt bad about it

Because quadruples are already exhausting and raising them by yourself even with support is already challenging

Doing that while your still a kid yourself is a respectable accomplishment

But four accidentally made it worse somehow without even noticing: also it hurt a lot to get them into the real world and I was even contemplating regretting everything I did to get to this

(cloning yourself can’t be pleasant)

The chain was too creative for their own good

But they only felt horror because four is like 4 feet at most

Those would be four babies during birth

How hasn’t he broken his entire spine with that

[muldj0rd]

“You saved my life. You’re my superhero” || Lestappen

Summary: “I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Warnings: Jos Verstappen’s A+ parenting, Jos Verstappen is a warning in himself, talk about mental illness’, depression, eating disorder, angst, Max needs a hug, Charles gives it to him, internalised homophobia, top Charles, bottom Max, anal, anal fingering, handjob, dacryphilia, praise kink, insecure Max, insecurities, nipple play, Charles being Max’s first male partner

Masterlist || AO3

Growing up, and if you didn’t look too close, Max was a happy child

Good mother. Good sister. Grew up with a father with failed racing dreams

It gave him pressure, sure… But if he didn’t have the pressure… Would he be who he was today?

Today, Max Verstappen was a three-time world champion winner

3 times as more champions than his dad

61 more wins than his dad ever had

Was his dad a good dad, though?

Jos Verstappen was the worst dad, if he even deserved to call himself a father

Max grew up with all kinds of mental illness’. Some he grew out of, some he didn’t

Depression. Stayed all through out his karting days and up until now

Eating Disorder. He didn’t feel valid for having one, and thinking he made it up because he didn’t look like someone with an ED

He wasn’t fit. He wasn’t skinny. He wasn’t…

He’d look in the mirror every morning, looking at his shirt covered chest, telling himself he needed to work out more, loose the fat around his stomach

No matter how hard he tried to loose the fat, he could never look good or how he wanted

He could never look like Charles

Charles was pretty. Who was Max kidding? Charles was hot… Until he slept. Charles was drop dead gorgeous when he slept

Max didn’t care it sounded creepy- it wasn’t, right? They were friends, and Charles had fallen asleep in his company before, so naturally Max had seen Charles asleep. Gorgeous

Max wouldn’t be where he was without his so called father

Max would be dead without Charles

Max wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. It was wrong… That’s at least what his dad had told him after Max had told him a story about Charles that maybe to Jos sounded a tad bit too friendly

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is pretty”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is slightly attractive”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is hot”

Was Max gay?

No.

Red Bull had suggested- Christian had suggested to Max that he tried out therapy, he refused of course, but when Christian didn’t shut the fuck up, he agreed just to keep him off of his back

“Who helped you become who you are today? A three-time champion, that is?” The therapist asked curious

“My dad… I guess” Max shrugged slightly, biting his bottom lip softly, the skin rough from where he had been nibbling at it for a few days, stressed about this session

“You guess?” He asked curious, shifting in his seat

“I wouldn’t be a champion without my dad, but I wouldn’t be…” Max sighed, nails scraping his palm, itching the anxious feeling “…I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t be alive… Without… Without C-Charles” It was if the words were wrong, or a sin of some kind

“Charles? Leclerc?” He questioned, knitting his eyebrows together

“He’s always been there for me” Max shrugged slightly, his bottom lip trembling “When… When everybody was… When everybody was against me, Charles had been there. Always. Picking me up from the dirt of the track, telling me everything would be okay and that people could go fuck themselves” He chuckled softly, his eyes welling up, glazing with tears

“So… You and Charles are friends?” He hummed, writing something down on his notes

“Yeah. I guess…” Max hummed, shrugging slightly, sniffling

“You need to stop guessing, and instead start to know” He sighed “You like Charles?”

“Yes” Max hummed “I mean- no. Not like that. I guess-… I know, Charles is a friend”

“You find Charles attractive?” Max looked up, his tears now dried

“H-He’s pretty. I gue- I know” Max swallowed “Sometimes” He shrugged slightly

“When? When is Charles pretty to you?” He shifted curiously in his chair, the one hour now gone, but he wanted to hear more from Max

“When he sleeps” Max shrugged “His long eye lashes against his cheek bones, his lips slightly parted, pretty lips… Full. Nice. His hair messy… Looks more fluffy that way. I just kinda wanna stroke it, thread my fingers through it” Max smiled softly, not realising what he was saying

“Max…” He sighed softly “I can’t tell you how you feel, but… I think maybe you should reconsider what you feel towards Charles

“I’m not gay” Max said confused, shaking his head slightly “I’m not”

“I’m not saying you are, Max… I’m saying you should reconsider if Charles and you are better friends than you go around and think”

”I’m not gay” Max kept mumbling all the time, in all the languages he knew

“You listening, boy?” Jos asked when he saw and heard Max mumbling to himself “What you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Sorry father. I’m listening” Max apologised, squirming in his seat where he sat

He wasn’t listening, and he knew his father knew, and he was sure as hell to be beaten over it later

MAX: Can I come over and cuddle with Leo?

Charles blinked his eyes open. He was yet to fall asleep when he heard the ping, but close to

The light was bright in his eyes. 1:36 said his phone when he turned the brightness down

CHARLES: It’s almost 2 am, and he’s asleep. What about Sassy and Jimmy?

MAX: Can I come over to just see you then?

Max always used Leo as an excuse to see Charles when he needed it

CHARLES: Of course you can, Max

’Thank you. I love you’

MAX: Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit

Moments like these came often, so to not wake the whole apartment complex, Charles had given Max a key

Max closed the door behind him quietly. Kicking off his shoes and his jacket, putting them neatly on their respectful places, knowing Charles was a neat freak

Max softly got into Charles bed, careful not to wake him if he was asleep, Leo stirring quietly awake when he moved to lay on his side, back facing Charles’

Max’ breath hitched slightly as he felt Charles pull the duvet up over his body, an arm around his waist, keeping him close, soothing him softly to sleep

Charles asked once at 3 am what happened. Max broke into tears. Charles hated seeing Max like that, so he never asked again

He felt guilty for never asking. Selfish. Max didn’t want to talk about it anyways, so it was all good

Max woke up by Leo licking all over his face, making him groan softly

He was now laying on his stomach as Leo curled into his side, his fur soft against Max’s hand that was stroking him

He got out of the bed, seeing as Charles wasn’t there. His mind worked on auto pilot, his body walking towards the smell of food

“I’m sorry” Max murmured from where he stood in the middle of the living room, looking into the kitchen

Charles’s body stiffened slightly “It’s fine. It’s what friends are for” He chocked out, not looking at Max

Why didn’t he? He always looked at Max. No matter what

“I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Max was the one getting abused, so why was Charles the one going to break down?

“Charles…” Max almost whined, looking up into the back of Charles head “Look at me, please… Charles, I need you to look at me” Max whispered

Charles tapped on the counter with his nail, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the ceiling, hoping the unshed tears would just go away

When they didn’t and he couldn’t stretch it any longer, he turned around, opening his eyes slowly

He shouldn’t have. The tears streamed silently down his cheeks the moment he saw Max’s disheveled look

Max drew Charles into his arms, Charles immediately shoving his head into the crook of Max’s neck, his hands clutching at the front of Max’s shirt

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve saved you” Charles sobbed into Max’s neck, his body shaking

‘You saved my life’

Max’s eyes welled up, feeling guilty that he had made Charles feel like this. Made him feel like he should apologise

“It’s not your fault” Max chocked out, sniffling slightly, holding back tears as best as he could

Charles leaned away from Max neck, his sobbing quieting down, now eye to eye

Max took his hand up to Charles’s cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wiping away tears around his beautiful green eyes

“It’s not your fault” Max tried again

Max wanted to lean in, kissing Charles until they were both passed out from oxygen. It wasn’t the right time… or was it?

‘Fuck it. I am gay’ Max though before slowly leaning in, kissing Charles softly, Charles kissing back immediately

“Thought you weren’t gay” Charles chuckled, tear stains on his cheeks and chin

“What?” Max asked, still dazed from how good and right the kiss felt

“I’ve heard you mumbling all last week” Charles chuckled again, his hands squeezing Max’s waist softly

“Oh… Well…” Max scratched the nape of his neck “I guess my therapist have gotten into my head”

“No… He wouldn’t do that. He’s just given you a push towards something you couldn’t walk towards yourself” Charles said softly, his green eyes wet from his earlier crying

How could Max not want to kiss Charles when looked like that? So he did. Max leaned back in to kiss Charles

Charles kissed back as well, a little more tender than before

Charles wanted Max- no. Charles needed Max. He needed him in a way no other could give him

He kissed Max a little harder, drawing a yelp out of him as well as Charles pushed Max softly up against the island counter, trapping his body

Charles’ hand went into Max’s hair. It was cut. Charles hated it. Max looked better with longer hair, but he always cut it because Jos said ’It made him look like a faggot’

It wasn’t cut too short, so Charles stilled managed to tug softly, making Max leaning back with a whimper, Charles’ lips going to his throat

“You’re pretty when you cry” Max chocked out, closing his eyes, trying to think of anything else than what it might feel like having Charles inside of him

“Yeah? That’s your kink?” Charles chuckled, his tongue lapping at Max’s throat and over his Adam’s apple

“N-no” Max chocked out… Maybe it was, yes. It definitely turned him on a little, but he didn’t want Charles to cry during sex

“Hm. Shame” Charles hummed, his hands on Max’s hips, pulling him away from the counter, guiding him towards the bedroom again

“Shame?” Max asked confused, Charles pushing him softly to lay down against the bed

“Yeah” Charles hummed, sitting down in between Max’s spread legs, hands just below where his shirt ended “Would love to see you cry in pleasure”

Charles leaned down, kissing Max again, his hands traveling under Max shirt, but he stopped him, pushing at his wrists

Charles stoped, leaning back again, seeing Max’s face turned to the side, his eyes screwed shut, hands tight around Charles’ wrists

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. It’s fine. I’m sorry for pressuring you” Charles said softly, hissing quietly at Max’s strong grip around his wrists

“No, no. I want to. It’s just-… I don’t-… I don’t like m-my…” He had turned his head back to Charles, but his eyes were still screwed shut

“I do. You’re so goddamn beautiful that it hurts to look at you” Charles sighed “And I want to show you just how much I love all of you”

Max whimpered softly. Love? His hands slowly loosening around Charles’ wrists, slowly opening his eyes

“Let me show you” Charles whispered, his eyes soft and wide. Max nodded softly “That’s not enough for me, amour”

“Show me” Max nodded softly

“Thank you. We can always stop if you get too uncomfortable, okay?” Max nodded “Max”

“Yes” He said as soon as Charles said his name

’Good boy’ It sat on Charles tongue. He didn’t say it

Charles didn’t know, but he’d assume that Max had a praise kink- I mean, who wouldn’t in his state?

He didn’t get any praise when he was younger, so Charles had now decided to make it his mission and give Max praise for every little thing

“Lift your arms” Charles said softly

He could feel the hesitation in Max’s hands were they twitched around Charles’s wrists before he pulled them off and over his head, sitting slightly up so Charles could pull the T-shirt over his head

Max fell back against the bed, immediately covering his stomach with his arms

Charles leaned down, kissing Max from his lips, down his chin, along his jaw, down his neck, over his throat, and down to his collarbone

Max whimpered every time Charles moved to a new spot, arching his neck to let Charles have more space, his arms tightening around his stomach

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mon amour. So fucking beautiful” Charles hummed, kissing down Max’s chest softly

Max moaned softly when Charles licked over one of his nipples, causing him to hold his hand over his mouth, giving Charles the chance to kiss further down, closing in on his stomach

Max felt like pushing Charles away, but why would he? Max thought it over

If it was anybody else, he hadn’t let it go this far, but it wasn’t anybody else. It was Charles. Charles who had saved him. Charles who has saved his life. He wouldn’t find that part of his body disgusting. Would he?

Max moved his other arm, letting both arms fall to his sides

Charles looked up at Max, slightly surprised he had gotten him comfortable, but he loved it nonetheless

Max, the broken man with no proper childhood, was comfortable around Charles

Charles continued to kiss Max’s stomach, slowly getting lower, kissing the skin above Max’s waistband of his sweats

Max wanted to thread his fingers through Charles’ hair, so he did. The dark brown locks soft around Max’s rough fingers

“Charlie” Max whined quietly as Charles darted his tongue out, licking at the stubble burns he had accidentally made seeming he hadn’t shaven in a couple of days

“Yes, amour?” Charles asked teasingly, leaning back to see the burns he had accidentally made down Max’s pale body

“Please” Max whimpered “I n-need you” He stuttered, blushing red from the embarrassment of sounding needy and desperate

“Yeah? You need me?” Charles chuckled, to which Max mumbled out a low ‘yes’ “Alright. Sweats and briefs off” Charles patted the outside of Max’s thigh before he went to the night stand, taking the lube from the drawer

Charles turned back to the bed, seeing Max now completely naked and laid further up the bed

“Mon dieu. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are” Charles sighed with a slight smile, his hands caressing Max’s thighs, watching as his hard cock twitched at the affection, leaking slightly

“This isn’t fair” Max whined, tugging at the hem of Charles’ shirt

Charles took the hint, chuckling softly as he pulled the T-shirt off of himself

Max almost drooled at the sight, but was quickly replaced with a small pout “I’ll never look like you” He mumbled

“I don’t want you to, amour. I want you to look just like this” He murmured, opening the lube bottle, pouring some on his fingers

“Remember; you can tell me to stop whenever, okay?” Charles reminded Max as he warmed up the lube

Max nodded quietly “Amour” Charles said, in a tone that was slightly warningly

“Yes” Max said “Jus’-… please Charlie” Max whined, bucking his hips slightly, trying to show Charles how much he needed him

Charles only chuckled softly, circling Max’s hole softly, making Max moan softly, his hands gripping at the sheets

Though, his hands immediately flew to Charles’ biceps when Charles slowly pushed in his finger

“F-fuck- Charles” Max whimpered, feeling Charles slowly moved his finger, twisting it and slowly moving in and out of him

When Max was loose enough, Charles pushed in a second finger, Max moaning at the action, his back arching

“Dieu. Why haven’t I made a move before, hm? You’re so fucking beautiful like this” Charles chuckled, his fingers slowly and softly moving in and out of Max, his lips attached to Max’s bent knee, most likely giving him burns there as well

“C-Charles. Please- i-i need it so bad. Please” Max had never thought in a million years he’d be begging for Charles’ cock inside him

“Shh. I got you, baby” Charles soothed, slowly pulling his fingers out of Max, loving the whine that escaped Max’s lips

Charles wiped his fingers on the inside of Max’s thigh so he could pull his own sweats and briefs down

When Charles had lubed himself and lining himself up with Max’s fluttering hole, Max held his hands against Charles’ abdomen, stopping him softly

“I-i’ve never… I’ve never had sex with a man- I don’t know what I’m doing” Max said, more confident then when they had started

“I know, amour. I got you, okay? Just lay back and tell if you want to stop or something you want to do different” Charles said, a slight smirk on his lips

Max nodded softly “Yes” He whimpered softly

“Good boy” It flew past Charles’ lips before he could stop it, but when he saw how red Max’s whole body got, he didn’t want to take it back

Max was about to come back with a witty comment, but could only moan when Charles slowly pushed into him, stopping every few inches, letting Max adjust before he continued

Charles kissed along Max’s collarbone, feeling him loosen around his cock

“C-Char… Please” Max breathed out, trying to move against Charles, having no success to get any kind of friction

“Come on. Finish my name. I like how you say your S’” Charles chuckled, thrusting softly once, Max moaning softly

“Charles” Max gasped when Charles thrusted once again

Max had been insecure about his lisp forever ever since they were kids, and Charles had loved the way Max said his name just as long

Charles set a pace and rhythm that worked for him, and one Max didn’t have any problem with

Charles put a hand under Max’s body, angling his hips slightly so it was easier for Charles to hit his prostate, making Max moan loudly and chant his name like a prayer

“Charles- please- I need… I need to come, please” Max almost cried out, nails digging into Charles’ back

Charles wrapped his hand around Max’s neglected cock, stroking him at the same speed of his hips “Come for me, amour”

Max’s nails dug into Charles’ back so hard he was afraid he’d break his skin as he came, covering his own stomach and Charles’s hand with his cum

Charles slowed his hand and hips down, moaning Max’s name softly into his pale neck as he came himself

“I like your hair longer” Charles murmured, kissing Max’s shoulder softly as they sat in the bathtub, Charles’ hand on Max’s stomach, stroking his thumb over his skin

Max sighed “My dad-“

“Fuck what he thinks. He’s not your father. He’s a man who treats a child like a subject” Charles said softly, kissing Max’s cheek bone just under where his black eye shone ended

Max wanted to cry. Charles was right. Jos never treated him like a son. Maybe for the first few years, but when Max became competitive in karting, he became a subject

“Move in” Charles said, sensing Max wanted to change the subject “I don’t like you living somewhere he knows” Charles held Max closer “Please”

Max nodded softly “I will. I want nothing else… But, we’ll have to learn Sassy and Jimmy to be nice to Leo” He chuckled

[thesiltverses]

I have a couple questions I like to ask after finishing TSV (which by the way was fantastic and I am insanely jealous of your writing/worldbuilding skills!)

1) we have heard singers and bands in the background many times which led me thinking about how the music industry works. Is it a case where it’s a mix of talented people without contracts escaping the spotlight and others who are contracted to music-based gods? Has there ever been a case where someone accidentally or deliberately birthed a god during performances? Do newbies who want to make it big and singers who criticize the current system in their lyrics get sacrificed? I am thinking many things about this topic too much haha

2) In episode 10 of s3 where the god/angel is stalking Faulkner’s dad, its sound design is very similar to Jean Jacket and the abducted horses from Nope. Did you pulled the sound from the movie or am I mishearing?

Thank you so much for listening and these are great questions! In backwards order:

2) No, although good ear - I believe those are distorted horse brays. I was actually cribbing from my favourite movie, Don't Look Now, which features a horrible and wonderful sound somewhere between a horse's scream and a human's scream at a key moment. (Nope's sound design is also impeccable though! I think we instead homaged it in an earlier S3 episode - when the war-saint is attacking the Grace, Alice goes flying up into the sky and then a moment later some keys and coins come scattering down.)

1) I imagine there's a really good storytelling / worldbuilding vein to be mined in terms of what a musician's life looks like in the TSV world, which I honestly just never thought to (probably because we're working with limitations around stock music and the occasional original tune by Skip!).

Because yes, I'm sure you'd have an industry filled with musicians who are essentially under an even more punishing and awful equivalent to real-life pop-group 'morality clauses'. (I can easily imagine that major faiths of all stripes would be bankrolling popular musicians on the sly - so that when the young heart-throb singer-songwriter declares that he's converted to the Church Electric, it feels organic and thousands of his fans do the same.) And then you'd have itinerant artists on the road who maintain their independence but are perhaps more at risk of a Robert Johnson-esque situation where their music and the audience response calls up something stray and hungering.

Although I actually wouldn't picture gods of music (because music is the medium but what is the origin and the outcome?) so much as gods of revolt, yearning, bitterness, decadence...

[momotonescreaming]

Buck thinks of Tommy sometimes, when Gerrard makes them line up at work.

Attention, at ease, backs military straight. Staring them down, waiting for them to squirm, for Buck to react. Retort and scowl and clench his fists. When he gives Buck latrine duty again, when he makes Chimney clean the floors. Insults them in ways so subtle it’s basically impossible to write out a complaint about him. Punishes them for thinking innovatively and saving people’s lives. Turns around and takes all the credit.

Keeping them tense at all times, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He thinks about Tommy saying Gerrard was like having the dad I already had, all those months ago. They didn’t talk about it then, not in depth, and Buck didn’t want to pry. He didn't talk either. It felt a little too soon, a little like unlocking a door he didn’t think Tommy was ready to unlock just yet. Buck sort of agreed. He was serious about this, he was serious about Tommy. Wanted it to be intentional, not rush into things. And he thinks that maybe that’s something they shouldn’t rush into.

It’s just been another fact about Tommy, something he knows about him, sitting in the back of his mind.

Doesn’t stop him from thinking about it though.

Everytime Gerrard berates them for ordering the wrong food for the station, no matter what different foods they switch to buying. Everytime he tells Buck he missed a spot, and makes him clean the whole bathroom again. Everytime he makes a passive aggressive comment, just vague enough to get away with.

He thinks about Tommy growing up in a home like that. With a father who will never be proud of him, no matter how hard he tries, what he does, what changes he makes. Being around that oppressive force all the time, unable to escape at the end of a shift like Buck can. No space to breathe, no space to be himself.

Buck’s slowly collecting facts about Tommy, and one by one, he’s building a bigger picture of who is boyfriend is. His past. How he’s grown. Some of his past doesn’t paint a very pretty picture.

Gerrard, his father, how they don’t really talk. How Buck wonders if that was a subtle, first date sort of way of saying he had gone non-contact with his father. How he doesn’t mention his mother, or any other family at all. The way Tommy talked about the 118 being a regressive place, how it didn’t make him a better person, and how he was lying to himself about being gay until he left for harbour.

Working under Gerrard, seeing and experiencing it with his own two eyes paints those comments in a different light. Buck’s not stupid, he listened when Chimney and Hen talked about Gerrard, what the 118 was like without Bobby. It’s just different living it yourself.

He wonders what Tommy was like, growing up with his father. Working under Gerrard. What sort of person that made him. There’s a sort of disconnect, in his head — between the Tommy he knows now, the Tommy he’s dating and falling head over heels for — and the Tommy of the 118.

His boyfriend Tommy is sweet, and goofy, and flirty, and cares so damn much. Happy and open and always smiling. Dry wit and sarcasm. Tommy's funny. He can’t really picture a Tommy that isn’t. It feels sort of like a different person entirely. Buck knows that that makes no sense, they’re both the same person, just different situations.

He doesn’t know if he can picture a Tommy like that. Regressive.

Perhaps Tommy’s the same. Unable to picture a young Buck, dumb and reckless and constantly hurting himself because it was the only way his parents paid attention to him. Loved him. Maybe he can’t picture probie Buck, who was horny and even more reckless and stealing municipal property to hook up with chicks who didn’t want anything more than a quick fuck. Not thinking about the consequences if they got a call and realised too late that they didn’t have a truck to respond in.

They’re still in the honeymoon phase, where everything is sweet and loving and exploring what dating each other means. They’ll have to break through eventually, into the reality of realising that your partner is a real person with flaws and a history that might not be what you expect.

Buck doesn’t know if he’s ready.

[chubbydino]

since i probably won't finish it...

Max pulled at the clasp of his TAG Heuer Monaco with a lump in his throat. He felt sick. Everyone in the paddock assume it was the Singapore heat, and Max let them think it as he mopped more sweat from his brow. He certainly wasn’t built for humidity. His eyes burned and itched, but not from the stagnant air or sweat dripping into his eyes.

He’d only seen flashes of Daniel since the checkered flag, and each one made Max feel worse than the last. First, the glimpse of him bent over in the cockpit, taking in the moment like it would be his last in a way that made Max’s heart crush itself. Then the brief look to the screens during interview, where he’d seen Daniel’s tears and the fake smile he knew almost as well as his own.

Racing was as exhilarating as it was cruel. Max’s father taught him early. Doom was always licking at his heels, ready to swallow him when he stumbled. Max feared that Daniel was already lost to the shadowy depths, and he’d been too busy fighting for second fucking place to see it. 

“Max?” his press officer called through the door to his driver room. 

“Yes, you can come in,” Max replied, still fussing with the clasp on his watch. He was two holes past the biggest notch—the one from his eighteen year-old wrist. 

Now, he had a girlfriend. One who knew who he really was and let him be it as long as he didn’t make it public. Max had no intention of ever doing that, because he wasn’t fucking gay. He wasn’t. He was just whatever it meant to be in love with someone who happened to be a man. He didn’t like men—only one. He only loved one.

“Daniel left already,” Max’s press officer said, still out of breath from her jog across hospitality.

Max blinked. “What?”

“He changed and left.”

Max’s stomach dropped through the floor. 

He thought of Niki Lauda, of all people. His dad didn’t like Niki. His dad said Niki bet on the wrong horse, that he was an idiot everyone called a genius because he had a stick so far up his ass it talked for him sometimes. Max only spoke to Niki a few times, but one time stood out. One moment, really.

This is the strange thing, Niki said. You send your life so focused on the seconds, then you say goodbye to a friend and never see them again. It will happen when you don’t expect it—just like everything else in this business.

Max cleared his throat. “Did they say where he was going?”

“The airport. He took his rental to turn it in.”

Max tugged the clasp in place. “Really? Who is he flying with? What charter?”

His press officer frowned. Her hair had curled in the humidity. He’d never say anything, but it didn’t look very good.

“Daniel booked a commercial flight,” she said softly. “He, um. He wanted the first plane out.”

Max’s insides twisted up on themselves. He scrambled for his backpack and slung it on. “Thanks for the info. I’m heading out too. Please have travel prep my jet—now.”

A year ago, Christian wouldn’t have allowed this. He’d force Red Bull to pay for a charter before he ever let Daniel fly with normal people. Even in first class, people loved to bother them. Everyone wanted signatures, pictures—they didn’t give a shit how you were feeling or what kind of day you had. 

He called Daniel as he ran for the car park. The phone rang but Daniel didn’t pick up, which meant he was still on land, at least.

Take my plane, he texted. Fuck first class.

The text thread was a barrage of blue. Max hadn’t realized how unresponsive Daniel had become since Friday, but he saw it now.