#but i always picture them having fun together

[menagerofmischief]

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily. 

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage. 

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them. 

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track. 

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen. 

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. 

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around. 

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks. 

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?” 

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice. 

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3. 

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.  

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room. 

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair. 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

��I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.” 

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out. 

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go. 

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks. 

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders. 

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face. 

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need. 

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

[samw1se]

I was born blind in my left eye. It never got fixed. Many of these points are true in my experience, except I still have an eyeball. Here are some additional fun facts from my realm of experience:

-my elementary school knew I was blind in one eye but did not tell my parents. I started to get a little farsighted in the 4th grade so I went to get readers and the eye doctor told me, a nine year old girl, that my life was forever fucked and I’d never be fully independent, never drive, never go to college, because I was disabled and it was too late to fix it. We got a second opinion. And then a third.

- (you can try to fix my kind of blindness up until about the age of five because the brain is still really elastic and capable of fixing the broken shit. They fix it by putting a patch over your good eye to force your bad eye to see. They tried it when I was nine but it was too late, so I essentially spent a year having my life ruined by being suddenly completely blind all the time and it sucked ass.)

- you make a great marksman and baseball batter once you figure out how your lack of depth perception works. Not a great outfielder though.

- things sometimes just kind of vanish on you. I got a massive concussion as a kid from running into a pole head on. The pole had been there as long as I could remember. I interacted with the pole every day. But one day I was running and the last thing I remember is thinking, hey, where did the pole go? Like the equipment holding it up was still there but the pole just seemed gone. This also happened several times to me when trying to catch pop flies or headbutt soccer balls. They’d just go away.

- people will indeed forget all the time and throw shit at you from the blind side and hit you in the head, or hug you and scare the shit out of you. A boy asked me out once after he hit me with a frisbee on my blind side.

- and then some people will always think of you when they encounter one eyed things. When I was an RA in college, some of my residents were so very pleased to bring me a one-eyed goldfish they’d found in the feeder tank at the pet store 😩 we named him one eyed Willy and he lived for like five years and survived two cross country trips in a car (in a Nalgene bottle both ways)

- I don’t have a traditional lazy eye (my eyeball can see but there is no connection between it and my brain so the message goes unrecieved) so I don’t really have much of a wandering eye, unlike other folks with amblyopia. I can also only cross my good eye, I cannot wink with my good eye without moving my entire face (and I had to learn how to do this by pushing my cheek and forehead muscles together with my hands until I could do it on my own so I look very stupid) and my good eye also tends to have trouble when looking at blue light for too long since it gets all the strain.

-additionally, the only times my eye seems to look lazy is in the occasional picture. I call it my googly eye.

- re writing advice: I took a writing class in college where we spent a lot of time journaling about our own bodies and then writing stories with what we had learned… my wonderful teacher guessed that I was blind in my left eye because of how I described things. I never used left or right when talking about objects being around characters’ bodies, only front and back. She fucked me up with that one.

- I get a lot of bruises on my left arm because I struggle with depth perception when walking around corners/doors on that side

- they gave me glasses as a kid to try to fix it after patching didn’t work (leading to the discovery that I don’t have a traditional lazy eye) and the left side was the biggest and thickest fucking lens you’ve ever seen and the right side was just normal glass no rx. It made the glasses sit crooked on my face so I stopped wearing them.

- they test you for amblyopia during your drivers license test and I cheated both times I’ve had to go take it 🙃 they put a ball on one lens and a box on the other and they ask if the ball is inside or outside the box and I didn’t see no goddamn ball but the man next to me said it was inside so I did too.

- if I hadn’t cheated, I could still get a license, just with a special note on it, which i didn’t know both times I cheated.

- and yes, cannot agree more with being a safe ass driver. People get frustrated because I follow so far behind other cars and give people so much room all the time but I have a clean ass driving record.

- following that, I have a hard time sitting in the front seat when someone else is driving, especially if they are tailgaters because I feel like I am always about to crash. My husband, a notorious tailgater, says I have an invisible break I hit whenever he’s too close to someone.

- my parents made me go to a chiropractor as a kid to see if the reasoning for my blindness was a pinched nerve. It did not work.

- a redditor once told me he would end himself if he were ‘as cursed as’ me because the idea of being blind in one eye was so insanely distasteful to him. I tried explaining to him that it’s literally the only life I’ve ever known and he kept trying to tell me it was disgusting and unnatural and I lived a hideous life. I was like, dude. Go to therapy.

- if you are blind in one eye but still have an eyeball, you have one fun fact for Two Truths and a Lie always directly on hand and no one will ever guess that’s a truth.

- I am especially clumsy, and sometimes when I get up to do something and start knocking shit down, my husband plays the Godzilla theme song in his phone and it always makes me die laughing.

- when my parents found out, they demanded to know why I didn’t tell them, and I had to explain to them that it was literally all I’ve ever known, how did I know it was wrong? I thought everyone could only see one side of their nose.

Sorry this got long. I can’t sleep lol.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt with a bookworm gf 🤍

note: I’ve been on my bookworm shit lately so I thought I would share some ideas (I feel like I did this already so please let me know if I did!) please enjoy

yeonjun

He likes when you read to him. No, he doesn’t care if it’s a memoir, a biography, or a history textbook. He just likes to hear your voice and listen to the story the book is telling. Your voice calms him and he is genuinely interested in what the book is saying. It’s your little bonding time. He sits silently next to you and leans his head on your shoulder as you read out loud.

soobin

He has a little book like with you. You both pick small books to read together and then discuss it. You and him take turns and switch off every other book (he picks and then you pick). When it’s his turn to pick, he almost always picks a manga! When you pick a novel, he has to listen to the audiobook. It helps him focus.

beomgyu

At first, he wasn’t really a big fan of reading for fun. He found it cute that you did it but would playfully call you a nerd. You never minded it. Overtime, he would start to casually ask you about the books you were reading in conversation. Over dinner, he’d ask question about the plot or your thoughts on the book. Even if he doesn’t read the books, he finds himself interested in them.

taehyun

He likes to read but you two have different interests. So, in order to expose each other to new things, you trade books, read them, and update each other on what you think. He loves when you write in the margins of his books or when you leave sticky notes with your thoughts. Whenever he goes back to reread the book, a little piece of you is there and it makes him smile.

huening kai

not super interested in books and all that but would love to hear you yap about them. he would much rather flip through a manga. so, his solution to this is reading his manga next to you while you read your book. if you have big picture encyclopedias of animals or something, he’s also looking at them, showing you his favorite animals.

note: true story for the kai one. I have a giant ocean animal encyclopedia book that I loved looking through as a kid :) it made me so happy! I’ll never get rid of that book.

[anon-e-miss]

Broken Vows - 8

“‘M gonna go look at habs for ya when ya have a rest,” Jazz told Prowl. He avoided the glyph nap which seemed a little mocking to him. As his frame continued to integrate the delicate repairs and with a fragile self-respair systems, Prowl ran out of energy quickly and recharged off and on throughout the mega-cycle.

“Perhaps you might like to take Smokescreen with you?” Prowl offered. “He would benefit from fresh air.”

“Are ya sure?” Jazz asked.

“I trust you,” Prowl said.

“What about you and Blue?” Smokescreen asked.

“We need more rest than you, Bravespark,” Prowl told him. “I know it is not terribly fun for you when we recharge. There is a fine playground in the park your progenitor and I used to walk in.”

“I’d love to,” Jazz said. “What do ya say, Smokey?”

“Okay!”

“I’ll give ya a list o’ favourites,” Jazz offered Prowl. Prowl just shook his helm.

“I trust you and Smokescreen to select it,” he said. “You know how little I concerned myself with my habsuite.”

“A’ight,” Jazz said. “We’ll do our best.”

Smokescreen was nervous, Jazz knew. His genitor was nervous too. Jazz held Smokescreen’s servo in a firm grip as they walked down the hall and made their way to the tram that would drop them off at the metro. It was faster to drive, of course but Jazz was too nervous to drive Smokescreen and the mechling was far too young to drive on his own. Smokescreen would not have wheels of his own until he was a youngling. Sooner or later, Jazz would give him a ride somewhere but Smokescreen had already gotten lost once on his watch and he was not going to risk getting in a crash with him on their first trip off base. The media were all gone, having been chased off by the Primal Vanguard after Prime had given his speech. That did not mean there might not be opportunists who would sneak a quick shot but Jazz had a plan for that.

“I want ya to wear this,” Jazz told Smokescreen as he magnetized a small device to the collar of his armour.

“What’s it for?” Smokescreen asked.

“If anyone tries to take a picture o’ ya, this’ll scramble it,” Jazz told him. “I know yer ori don’t want yer face all o’er the news.”

“It was the same in Praxus,” Smokescreen said. “He didn’t want me in portraits. He didn’t want Blue either but he wasn’t allowed to say no.”

“‘M sorry yer Ori had to make that choice,” Jazz told him. “I’m sorry I bout’m in that spot.”

“Origin loves you,” Smokescreen said. “And it makes him sad. It always made him sad.”

“He’s got good reason, Sweetspark,” Jazz told him. “I broke his spark. I did it on purpose.”

“You were sick,” Smokescreen defended him and Jazz ruffled his helm. After everything Jazz had said and done, Prowl had excused him to their creation. It was a kindness Jazz did not think he deserved.

“Don’t make the damage any easier to live with, Bitlet,” he said.

“Hmm,” Smokescreen took a seat in the window and Jazz sat next to him. “You feel bad about it.”

“Sure do,” Jazz told him. “I didn’t know I’d kindled ya wit Prowl until I saw yer designation next to his on the casualties list. Even when I was better, I was too scared to face your Ori, even the memories o‘m so I didn’t read his letters, ‘n I lied to myself ‘bout how bad I’d behaved. I didn’t want to remember how bad I’d been. When I saw yer designation I had to face what a monster I’d been. I didn’t think I deserved to mourn ya, either o’ ya. But I needed to. I still carry the ultrasound photos he sent me.”

“Really?” Smokescreen asked. Jazz showed him the ultrasound. “I was just a blob.”

“We all start out that way.”

Jazz knew Smokescreen hoped his procreators would get back together and raise him and his brother together. It was something Jazz was a bit too scared to hope for himself. He loved Prowl dearly. With all the clarity in the world now, Jazz did not shy from this truth. The reality was, however he had hurt Prowl terribly and he had driven him away, laying the groundwork for the direction the Praxian’s life had taken. Every awful thing that had happened after could be placed at Jazz’s peds. At some point, if Prowl ever wanted to hear it, Jazz would like to apologize probably, to make sure he knew that Jazz took responsibility, that he had no excuses for everything he had said and done. He could not ask for a chance to be better for Prowl, for Smokescreen and for Bluestreak. Jazz would have to be better and to let the chips fall however they might.

“I know Origin’s originator and grandcreators were afts,” Smokescreen said. “What about yours? Origin never told me about them.”

“That’s ‘cause I never told’m,” Jazz explained. “My genitors were split-spark twins. They died in a riot in Polyhex ‘n losin’em broke my Ori ’n made ‘m go mad... sorta like I did, I guess. Me ‘n my brother, my twin split up... blamin’ different mecha for what happened. I know they’re alive but that’s all I know.”

“You got better,” Smokescreen said. “I bet he will too.”

Counterpunch had sent Jazz another of his rants that light-cycle. As always, it made no sense. There was no threat to Jazz in particular or the Autobots in general. It was just random glyphs, not even in sentences but almost just splattered across the page. Because Counterpunch did not know he had creations, because Punch had always considered his family to be his and not his alter’s, that he even had the code to the commlink Jazz had only ever shared with his family was still a bit unnerving. Talk of a mechanical spark and grinding gears, even when Jazz read it together with the other notes he had received lately, he found no meaning in it. He wondered if Ricochet got notes like these. His twin would never tell him. Ricochet had blamed Sentinel Prime for the deaths of their progenitors and the madness of their originator, in hindsight Jazz understood why. Ricochet did not forgive Jazz lending is allegiance to that prime as Jazz had blamed terrorists who had worn the Decepticon brand. Whether Ricochet called himself a Decepticon or freelanced, as had been the family business, Jazz did not know. He had not spoken to his twin in millenia and had not laid optics on him for even longer.

“This is our stop,” Jazz took Smokescreen servo and led him down the escalator and out onto the street.

It was just around the corner from Mirror’s, nearer than even Prowl’s old hab and been and a short walk to the park. There were other habsuite on his list to look at but if this one was even close to as good as the ad had suggested, he thought it would be perfect. Smokescreen, of course, would be the one to cast the deciding vote. The property manager shook Smokescreen’s servo after he shook Jazz’s and that was a point in his favour. There were lots of families in the building, or so said the manager and that was a point for the building. No one had lived in the habsuite for a while so it was a completely blank slate. Imagining how it might be set up was not a problem to Jazz. He laughed as Smokescreen ran about, checking every room. The mechling definitely needed sometime in the park to release some energy.

“This room for Origin, because it has a pretty view,” Smokescreen pulled Jazz along for a tour. “This room’s for Blue because its right next door. This rooms for me and this rooms for my grandori and uncle when they come to visit.”

“He’s so sweet,” the property manager said. “And so well behaved.”

“His Ori gets all the credit,” Jazz replied.

“Origin’s going to love it,” Smokescreen declared as they left, key card stored in Jazz’s subspace. As Jazz was an officer in the Autobot Corp, the property manager was quick to sign the habsuite over to Jazz, even having never met the principle tenant. Security was good, it would be better when Jazz added encryptions to the lock. Smokescreen had picked a good room for Prowl, it had a few of the park. He would love it.

“He’ll love that ya picked it for’m,” Jazz said. “How ‘bout we go to the park now ‘n ya can run ‘round like a wild mechanimal?”

“Okay!”

“And who is this?” Jazz jumped. The voice was husky. He knew without looking that it belonged to a wispy femme about his originator’s age.

“Dipole!” Jazz exclaimed. He had met her when she had returned from burying her progenitor. The funds that had seen her get there had been stolen and Prowl had hunted the thief down and returned them too her.

“I’m Smokescreen, Ms Dipole!”

“You look just like your Origin, doin’t you?” Dipole said. “Mirror mentioned you stopped by, to pick up a peace offering. Than she saw the news and she’s been as close to a wreck as I’ve ever seen her.”

“Mirror makes the yummy rust sticks, right?” Smokescreen asked.

“That’s right,” the femme replied.

“Prowl’s got some more healin’ to do but he’ll visit soon,” Jazz promised.

“Mirror always thought of Prowl as something of an adoptive grandcreation,” Dipole said. “What with him being all but orphaned.”

“Can we say hi?” Smokescreen asked.

“Uh...” Jazz thought on it. “I don’t want to take the wind outta yer Ori’s sails, Bravespark.”

“Eh?”

“I thought yer Ori outta be the one to introduce ya to Mirror,” Jazz said.

“He won’t mind,” Smokescreen said. “Especially if we bring more rust sticks. And... if Ms Mirror is worried about Origin, she’ll feel better and Origin’ll feel better knowing she’s not worrying anymore.”

“He is very clever,” Dipole said.

“All credit goes to his Ori,” Jazz replied. “Okay, we’ll say hi to Mirror.”

“They were really buried for vorns?” Dipole asked, softly as they headed to the bakery.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied.

“Mirror wouldn’t look at the casualty list,” Dipole explained. “After he said goodbye, she always figured he’d come back. She said he belonged here and not in Praxus but... well he never came back and then Praxus was gone. She didn’t want to know because if she didn’t know than she could imagine he was well, wherever he was.”

“I promise he’s okay now,” Jazz said. “He thought Smokey outta get out ‘n get some exercise while ‘m ‘n the bitty rest more.”

“It’ll be good to see him,” Dipole said. “He was always one of Mirror’s favourites.”

[nametakensff]

That prompt list you just posted awakened something in me hahah Wb “Do you have a cat?” and "Humiliated" for Eddie? 👀

Yaayy thank you for the prompts! 💕

I cooked up 1.7k of E/ddie having a terribly timed allergy attack whilst dealing weed to a regular client who, unbeknownst to him, has a cat he is horribly allergic to 🐱

Shockingly I have not projected the fetish onto either character in this fic?? It's fun to mix things up from time to time, I guess!

~~~~~

Content:

M sneezes, mentions of M/F, F OC for sake of plot, cat allergy sneezes, spray, mess, handkerchiefs, nose rubbing, nose blows, embarrassment, mild comfort + caretaking, build-ups, rapid sneezes, talking through sneezing

CW: mentions of drug and alcohol consumption (It should go without saying but both characters are 18+)

SFW but minors please dni!!

Eddie brought his fist down on Laura Paulson’s front door, trying not to get irritated at the fact he had been pounding on it for at least three minutes already. The blaring music inside masked the sound of his efforts and that of the doorbell. He pointedly ignored the sneers of the three guys skulking in the front yard, who clearly knew some way of getting in and out the building but had no intention of filling him in, and he had no intention of asking. This was so fucking dumb. He just wanted to make some sales and fuck off.

Laura was okay. She never asked for freebies, always paid what he asked and wasn’t especially shitty to him. They’d made out a couple of times in his van, even, when she found out her stupid jock boyfriend was going with other girls behind her back. He didn’t much like being used on the low, but it was also somewhat thrilling sticking his tongue in a cheerleader’s mouth and having her pull his hair in response.

She’d even mentioned that he should stay and hang out at the party, if he wanted to, but he could tell she was only inviting him because she seemed to think she had to. Like she felt bad about being pleasant to him when they were alone, and an ice queen when they weren’t. He turned her down for both their sakes, trying not to look offended when she failed to mask her relief.

He struck the door again, even more forcibly this time, and finally, finally it was opening. Laura smiled at him, clearly several drinks deep. He raised the lunchbox in his left hand by way of greeting, offering a half-smile as she moved to one side and let him in. He’d never been inside her house before, and it was as swanky as he’d pictured it would be.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s loud in here.” She sing-songed over the racket, sounding friendly but not sorry in the least.

“No biggie.” He smiled at her, feeling better in the presence of her admittedly contagious happiness, substance-related or otherwise. He’d been expecting a much colder reception. “So, do you wanna…?”

“Oh, yeah, this way!”

Eddie followed her up the stairs, realising she must be even tipsier than he thought if she would openly lead him up to her room whilst several curious onlookers watched them do so. He checked his wristwatch; only 19:00. Girl meant business when she partied, he guessed.

Her room was unextraordinary. Girly, neat, plastered in photos of her and her friends, and several more of her and her meathead boyfriend. He hoped said boyfriend knew where his girlfriend was and wouldn’t suddenly barge into the room, wasted and charged up by some stupid whispering about the pair of them sneaking off together.

“Sit, sit!” Laura said, inviting him to perch next to her on the edge of her baby blue bedsheets whilst she rummaged through her purse.

“You good for your usual?” Eddie said, opening his box and taking out the little baggie he’d set aside for her. He sniffled, briefly pressing his wrist to his nose against a sudden errant tickle.

“Uh-huh.” Laura replied, seeming distracted. “Shoot,” she muttered after a second, getting up a little too fast and staggering. Eddie reached out to balance her with one hand on her waist.

“You okay?” He asked, then winced at how stuffy his voice suddenly sounded. His nose still tickled and his eyes were starting to feel suspiciously itchy. Fuck. He was probably having some kind of reaction to her perfume or some shit, which was weird because hers had never bothered him before, but not unheard of. When she righted herself and moved to her chest of drawers he indulged in a violent nose rub, mashing his nose around with the palm of an open hand, desperate to quash the tickle before it blossomed into a sneeze. He hoped she couldn’t hear the wet clicking sounds the motion induced, and grimaced in dismay when it seemed only to urge the tickle along.

“I know I have more cash in here somewhere…sorry, one sec…”

“All good.” He said, even though it was not all good, it was bad, and he’d had enough allergy attacks in his life – hell, this past week - to know he was about to sneeze his fucking head off. He sat rigid, pressing a ringed finger underneath his twitching nostrils, pink and damp from the prior manhandling, and pushed hard against his philtrum. It did very little at all, and he bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stave off the starts of an embarrassingly hitchy build-up.

He glanced at her back as she dug through the drawer, silently pleading with her to hurry up, when his eyes drifted to the lint roller on top of the chest. He squinted at it, realising it was covered in…oh, double fuck.

“L-Laura?” He asked, lowering his hand and scrambling through his pockets for his bandana. He was going to sneeze no matter what at this point, and he at least wanted to do so not all over her pristine upholstery.

“Hmm?”

“Do you hh’have a hh-!!...cat?”

“Yeah, Mittens! She’s probably sleeping under the bed right now, ‘cuz there’re so many people around. Ooh, okay, nice, found a twenty!”

She spun round, grinning in triumph, only for her face to fall in confusion at the sight of him. He averted his eyes, even as they started to slam shut, burying his face in the bandana he had been raising and continued to allow his breath to hitch – audibly, now that the gig was up and she could not only see him, but was actively watching him build up to a fit of tickly allergic sneezes. He felt his face flushing with heat, absolutely humiliated, but there was nothing he could do. He gasped pathetically, chest expanding under his Metallica t-shirt as the tickle finally crested.

“Eddie?”

He managed to shake his head, just once, before he was pitching forward into the bandana, clutched to his face with both hands as the sneeze burst out of him with so much force it brought tears to his eyes.

“EhhHGK’TSCHSS’IEWww!! Shit, sorry, I’m-!! Ihkg’tchieww!! AhhGK’TISSHH’IEwww!! Ohh…”

He felt the bed dip as Laura sat down beside him, blushing even harder as she placed a tentative hand on his back, expanding and contracting erratically under his leather jacket as he hitched his way towards the rest of his fit.

“Hh-Hh! Ehh-! HAH’GKkt!! EHh’NGXt’TSHh-NGXT’tshiew!! HdDT’TSCHH’U! ‘DDZZSh’iewww!!...Shit, I’m…I’m allergiii’CKK’SHIEeww!! Allergic-to-cats-!”

“Fuck.” He heard Laura mutter, sounding genuinely concerned, which heartened him and yet paradoxically made him feel terrible. The whole thing was mortifying, and the more he sneezed, the more the tickle seemed to tease.

To make matters worse, Mittens, the very source of his misery, seemingly roused by the cacophony above her sleeping space, had come to investigate. Through bleary eyes he peered at her in resignation, preparing to sneeze again. She tilted her fluffy, tortoiseshell head at him, mewed once, and then, to his horror, started to rub herself affectionately all over the shins of his jeans.

“Mittens, no!” Laura reached for her in an instant, snatching her away as she meowed her displeasure, but the damage had been done.

“HhHH’GCKT’TShhieww!! ESHH’IEWww!! EHh’NGXtt’TSCHh!! EhHH’TSCCH-TSSHH’IEww!! h’Ohh GoddD’TSXCHHhh!! IGSHH’Uu-IGKSHHhh!!”

Eddie could barely breathe between each explosion, eyes streaming as he sprayed into the bandana over and over, clutched between both steepled hands. The last few left mess bursting out into the cloth and dripping down over his lips, mercifully hidden from view. He sniffled reflexively, instantly regretting it as the tickle peaked with such intensity the resulting gasp made his chest squeak.

“EIISSHHHhh!! HaH’GKkt-GXK’TShhu-GSHHHh!! Hh’HH!! HAH’ENGXTt’TSSsHIEww!! AESHH’IEww!! iihHH’KhG’TSSHHUuu!!”

He trembled as they overpowered him, cruel and unrelenting, one leg jerking up as his body almost curled in on itself from the force before stamping back on the ground. He made the mistake of using a lull in sneezes to fold his bandana over and look for a clean spot, hands shaking, totally unprepared for when the tickle ground once more against his sinuses.

“’YYISCHHH’IEWW!!” He sneezed violently, dramatically, and worst of all, totally uncovered. His eyes shot open in time to see the spray dissipating in a glittering cloud of droplets, illuminated by a nearby lamp. He clapped the bandana back to his face, cheeks burning, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“Fuck, I am so sorry.” He mumbled at exactly the same time Laura offered an audibly concerned “God bless you!”

He murmured a thanks before biting the bullet and indulging in a disgustingly wet nose blow. Laura gently patted his back, manicured, callous-free hand on his scuffed-up leather, and the sudden rush of emotions – humiliation, confusion, affection, irritation – had him lurching to his feet, even as his breath started to hitch, fucking again.

“Are you okay?” Laura asked, her hazy brown eyes looking up at him with far more kindness than Eddie could stand to face in the current moment.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, but…I’m sorry, I hafta-! GXXT’SHIEWWww!! Ah, fuck, shit, I-need-to-! IGSHHHH-! Ahh, Get out of here.”

“O-okay.” He felt her slip the money into his pocket. Pressing the sopping bandana firmly to his face, he began to reach for his lunchbox, which she handed to him.  “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s n-not your-! Not-your-f’hhault’TTSZZSH’IIeww!! Fuck!! Not your fauld’t.” He mustered up a reassuring smile, then remembered his face was obscured anyway.

“Still, I’m. I’m sorry. See you round?” She offered.

“Sure.” He said, knowing damn well the next time they bumped into each other and he didn’t have drugs on his person she would go right back to pretending he didn’t exist.

He left her there, standing awkwardly in the middle of her room, and bolted his way down the stairs, trying not to fall to his death as a series of smaller sneezes teased their way out of him half-way.

“Huh’GXTCH’zieww!! HDD’TZSCch’u! hh-HDT-!! ‘TISHH’Ieww!!”

He sneezed again as he strode past the three idiots still lurking outside, the dampness of the cloth beginning to transfer to his palm. They made sounds of disgust and derision, painfully predictable in their apery, and he fought the urge to throw the snotty rag in their direction before deciding in his current state it wasn’t worth the potential black eye and/or broken arm. He slammed his van door shut and started the ignition, snuffling and scrubbing at his tickly nostrils, which were already flaring in preparation for a repeat performance. He prayed he wouldn’t sneeze himself to an early grave on the road before he could get home and sneeze his throat raw in the shower.

[seitmai]

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it. Because he was looking at you.

He is so whipped 🤭

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

Carole would slap him from beyond the grave

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

Just some little coincidences 🤭

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

That's some dedication, I respect that

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that." You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways. And then your eyes drop purposefully down. The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top. "You wouldn't," he rasps. "I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him. "Sweetheart, c'mon." "Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?"

Not even those baby cow eyes can convince her, which is unstable when it's about Penny's rules, I wouldn't dare going against them either (not even for a pair of baby cow eyes) ☝🏻

"I think you enjoyed that." You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

Big bonus of that job, I would enjoy it immense every time hehe

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special." "Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease.

Facts 🤭🤷🏻‍♀️

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me." He leans in closer. "And what's that?" You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

I can't decide if I wanna be her or be with her 🤭🤔

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.” You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

Rooster is like:

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

This made me giggle

I loved this story so much!! She is so smooth and Bradley is so in love, the perfect combo for amazing banter 👏🏻

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun. 

[jontheredrc]

the "Neon Night Riders" stage from Turtles in Time, but it's Lyla driving her 1988 Honda Civic down the highway while Iffie surfs and swordfights on the roof

[aquanutart]

I absolutely LOVE the Squirtle/Wartortle illustrations by kantaro in Pokemon 151!

The Squirtle jumping so joyfully from the rock into the ocean, the colors are STUNNING! I love the contrast of the Squirtle's aqua blue framed in the vivid orange sky, the soft bit of blue reflecting in its shell and its tail just catching the sun, how little and squishy its body looks as it launches itself towards the water with such tremendous excitement!

The lineless style of the background gives me the feel of a travel poster and I sense the tropical environment around it from the rocks and trees framing the corners, the waterfall splashing with as much energy as the Squirtle!

The layered blues on the surface of the water and the bubbles rising at the corner make me FEEL the liquid rising to meet the Squirtle--I can just feel how the next moment it's going to break through and be immersed in a cool island swim!

And the Wartortle running along the sunset beach, this is somehow everything I always imagined for Wartortle! I adore the way the rich purple melts into the warm red/orange sky, the matching purple clouds and shadows in the foreground, and how the dimming sunlight glows red on Wartortle's deep blues!

I love how the yellow and orange of the sky illuminate the lapping waves, I can just feel the gentle motion of the sea at dusk. The aqua color of the ocean matches Wartortle's ears and tail and sets off the red-orange sand, I just love how the colors are here!

Wartortle looks so round and squishy, I love its happiness as it goes frolicking through the shallows, chasing the bubbles caught in the setting sun! The shine and deep shadow on its shell give it an almost jewel texture like real tortoise shell; I love the silhouetted splash Wartortle leaves as it goes running across the shore. It's so full of energy and delight at the end of a gorgeous day! The colors in these are SO vivid and harmonized and the style is so cute and bursting with energy and joy. I just LOVE it (also Squirtle is my starter)

[mistergandalf]

ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO ROUND FIVE: SECOND CHANCE BRACKET

ÉOWYN vs. MERIADOC "MERRY" BRANDYBUCK

See the ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO MASTERPOST for details and follow #ultimate tolkien blorbo to cast your vote for the blorbiest blorbo of all!

[silusvesuius]

i legit love when a character's gender is so integral to their personality (and perception obviously.) like so concrete that if genderbent their whole shtick would just be absolute dookie. anyways i'm just writing this text so i can talk in the tags (My beautiful safe haven)

this 14 minute song is soooooooooooo FYRE

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[stonesandswords]

.

[tiny-huts]

I think one of the loveliest part of the prewritten campaign modules is seeing fanart for all the different characters and hearing about the different ways they were a part of people's campaigns and hearing about the cute little variations in personalities that different DMs give them. But sometimes the flipside of that is looking at how someone talks about a character and being like? That's not MY son?