#but i don't think shes ever seen him like this either?)))

[turquoizxe]

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― arcane s2 spoilers!!, drabble/hc; fluff, some angst, Ekko is absolutely smitten for the reader, friends to lovers, suggestive *in very few areas

author's note ― there's not enough drabbles/fics for Ekko and its pissing me awf. I must intervene.

wc ― 0.974k

Ekko wasn't sure if he'd find anyone else after Jinx

He had no choice but to live without her, even after experiencing what could have been had things been different.

It ate at him, constantly, knowing what their lives could have been, but he loved his home enough to save it

After the Vigil, Ekko kept to himself for quite sometime

He remained with his Firelights, continuing to redevelop his haven after everything that occurred

Remaining occupied meant he didn't have enough time to sit and think about all that had unraveled the past few months

On the days he was left in solitude, he sketched and tried to remember the best parts, or how to move ahead

He'd reunite with Vi every now and again, but she was busy handling her own business with Caitlyn. The environment had changed, and it was hard to tell if it was for the best or the worst

He would travel to Piltover more frequently, but it was harder due to the memories it held, and he didn't see much of a point in staying outside of grabbing supplies

You met Ekko while on a supply run, stealing the last stock of bolts he needed. He was having an awful day when you ran into him, so his demeanor was one he wasn't sure he had in him

Despite this, you still offered to share your bolts, if he wasn't being an ass, and if he showed you what he was working on for him to be so frustrated with a stranger

He was careful not to yet invite you to the home that he shares with the Firelights

You were understanding of his skepticism and invited him to your workshop instead, just outside of Piltover, but not necessarily in the area of Zaun

The device he showed you felt far more valuable than what you had been working on. Despite its rickety condition, he spoke of it so passionately, and you could tell this craft was something he was passionate about

You invited him back, and you gave him the hours you would usually be here if he was ever comfortable returning

After your first encounter, you weren't sure if he'd be back, but it shockingly didn't take long for him to return

What became maybe once a week, turned to twice, and then frequent visits

You'd both would often go on runs together, and when Ekko wasn't with the Firelights, he found himself spending more time in Piltover, but mainly if you were involved in that exploration

The first night after you met, he didn't get much sleep. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him feel that way; It felt so instant, without hesitation or question

He would have called you an idiot for being so trusting to a stranger, but he felt like a fool for the emotions he was already experiencing.

It was hard for him to process how the chemistry you exude when together was automatic.

As time went on, he let his guard down around you, when he was around you, it all felt natural. A year had gone by without either of you noticing

The night, when the anniversary of the Mass Vigil was held, he stayed longer than you both had expected, a lingering tension between the two of you.

Even without talking, the lack of conversation made him feel vulnerable― susceptible to questions he wasn't sure if he was ready to answer yet

The wounds were still so fresh, you had half the mind to not ask if he knew anyone that was lost in the war, but before you could ask, he went off into the night, leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts

Weeks had passed since you had seen him

These days, you don't hear much from Ekko. And even when you mourned his lack of presence, it hadn't taken much time before it started to anger you

Ekko had realized long ago that he had feelings for you. He often fought the urge to be defenseless around those he cared for most. He wasn't sure if that was possible with you until it was

He was so enamored with you and never missed a moment to brag to his colleagues about your brilliance

You reminded him so much of her, and you deserved to be your own person in his eyes. He feared that if this went any further, he'd try to create comparisons that weren't fair to either of you.

The more time you spent apart, he spent more time admiring the distinctions. The emotions you evoked from him felt foreign. He couldn't place a finger on it, but he wanted to explore it further

More weeks had passed before he showed up at your workshop, knocking at your door instead of climbing through the window like he used to. The change in behaviors made you pout a bit more than what was already plastered on your face

Ekko had revealed his creation, the device he had been working on for weeks. The bolts you had landed him were engraved with your initials

You sat him down, spending time to catch up. While you wanted to be mad, you weren't sure if the feelings you were experiencing were even mutual, until he made riddance of your doubts

He didn't make it back to the Firelights that night, spending the night wrapped and reveling in passion that had been festering itself. You had never been this intimate, the night filled with nervous laughs and mistakes, but it made him feel human again

The walls he had worked to build had swiftly crumbled whenever you came into the picture

There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you, and he'd fight just as hard to save you

No matter the universe

― turquoizxe

[boomstab-papa]

Oh absolutely, giving misogynists captive girlfriends/wives isn't going to fix anything. Being a little more misogynist to try to appease misogynists won't work.

But "giving any credence" is such an interesting phrase to use here, because it's so ambiguous and also accusatory. What does "giving credence" mean? Who has been doing it? What have they been advocating for? Who, for example, has been saying leftists should be more misogynist, and how?

I'm not alone in this confusion, either, there are several comments on the tweet who are equally perplexed.

The fact is that the left DOES NEED a better approach to people who are feeling lost, angry, and scared.

Alt-right "self-help" authors and programs are hugely popular. These predators target lost, scared, and angry people. They're cults, really. And no matter how much the left discusses things like "can we stop parroting bioessentialist bullshit because hey, men aren't destined to be misogynistic assholes"... these alt-right cultists don't ever even have to TALK TO a leftist to repeatedly hear "leftists hate you for being born white/male/rich/etc". I really can't get over how Rush Limbaugh popularized the term "feminiazi" and told an entire generation that feminists were angry man-haters when they literally are not. But that's exactly how the grift works!! I should know, I grew up in exactly this Rush Limbaugh kind of house!!

"Don't blame the hyper-wealthy for ruining the economy, blame women and foreigners for taking all the jobs! Don't blame the ruined economy when nobody wants to have kids anymore, blame the women! Don't blame patriarchy and all the misogyny it taught you when women avoid your misogynist ass, blame the women! Remember, the feminazis hate you!!"

So what to do?

On an interpersonal level, sometimes it can be really easy. This is a comment made to Innuendo Studios's video "How to Radicalize A Normie" on this exact topic (which I highly recommend watching).

"Hey, ex-alt-right member here. First, really like this series. I feel like you’re validating the radicalization that me and my male friends experienced. Putting it into words and showing us how we got tricked, exposing the magician and their tricks. Second, I vot out not through argument and discussion but actually through feelings. I was very edgy and would use the n-word in jokes all the time. My male friends would not call me out on it. But a female friend of mine said it made her uncomfortable and that she didn’t appreciate these jokes when we played fortnite together. That shook me to my core as I cared for my friend and that’s how my deradicaliztion started. Just wanted to add in this personal story, keep up the great work :)"

If this is someone you know, tell them their behavior is not cool.

THIS GOES DOUBLE FOR THE MEN READING THIS. Misogynists are more likely to listen to you than they are to listen to women!! If someone is being a shithead in your vicinity, consider: are you gonna let it slide? Or are you maybe, possibly, going to be the one thing that yanks them out of a hatespiral and prompts them to re-examine their hateful worldview? Tell them "hey not cool".

This might not work the first time. This might not work at all for some people. But if the situation is relatively safe, then it's worth trying.

And this does not mean that you personally are responsible for "centering men in your conversations" or "marginalized people putting in even more emotional labor" or "if a man is misogynist it's because you failed him" what the fuck ever like I've seen in this discourse. Come the fuck on.

It means you can probably try saying something to somebody you know. And if it doesn't work? You can say you tried.

On a policy level, we have more work to do. It shouldn't come as a surprise to any leftist that the current economic and political system in the USA exists to separate and exploit people. I think we all agree it really sucks to live in a system like this. Your average reactionary misogynist also thinks the system sucks, but as explained above, they've been trained to place the blame on some convenient scapegoats instead. Immigrants. Women. Queer people. Muslims. Anybody who's not white. Et cetera. "Government needs to get out of the way of smart people and then Elon Musk will build a utopia for The Faithful (which includes me) on Mars" or some shit.

These people need to hear that their anger is justified, but that their blame is misplaced. They need policies that will hold the responsible parties accountable. They need policies that won't leave them impoverished and isolated and exhausted after working a 40+ hour work week. They need to realize the system isn't sorting people into "the worthy rich" and "the unworthy poor", rather, that it's exploiting everyone except the wealth-owning class. They need to realize it's their politicians' biggest campaign donors that are doing this to them.

The Democratic Party needs to actually talk about this. I'll be dangerously pithy here: the Democratic Party needs to sound more like Bernie Fucking Sanders. Politicians need to oppose health insurance companies and get Medicare For All going. Politicians need to stop voting to give the military two fucking billion dollars every single day and fund free college and trade schools. Politicians need to tell business interests to fuck off and get a livable minimum wage AND a universal basic income passed, which will severely undercut employers' ability to exploit and isolate us.

And we need Citizens United repealed. Badly. I'm not trying to imply the problem is only with Republicans' campaign donors, because Democrats' biggest campaign donors are also often the same people exploiting us. But look at how Democrats did a tiny little bit of pro-union and anti-trust work these past 4 years and they screamed bloody fucking murder. If Democrats are relying on these people's money to get them elected, I think it's going to be really hard to get policies passed that will actually make USAmericans safer and happier (ie. address Republicans' economic fears that they keep blaming on various scapegoats).

Although with Republicans controlling the entire Federal government for the next two years minimum, this feels more distant than ever.

That's what we need to be taking seriously. If you don't give any credence to the fears and insecurities underlying the horrifying reactionary politics, you're not actually addressing anything. If you can't admit that capitalism fucks all of us over and makes all of us miserable and looking for a remedy, are you even a leftist?

[yeyinde]

I am binge reading your work and I love your Price characterisation so much! Can you please go into detail what you his childhood looked like and what led him to be this angry, stubborn man who is fixated on saving the world at all costs

this is basically a reinterpretation of opening Pandora's box but instead of releasing great evils, it's just me yapping non-stop about John Price whenever i get the opportunity. but i cut a lot out because it was getting too long, so this is a brief summary on what made John Price the way that he is;

re: abuse (physical, mental, emotional; of authoritative power).

Nepo-baby. Born into Military Royalty. The Price name has a lot of sway in the government. Probably lived in Hereford going up before moving to Liverpool at 18. Realistically, Price has no other career choices because I can't see Mr "threatens to hang superior officers" sitting in a cubical and expected to hit quotas without catching several charges for assault and battery when his temper gets the best of him. And it always does.

His homelife was bad (but absolutely nothing compared to Simon's). His dad was just a staunch disciplinarian groomed by the traditional values of 40s-60s England. The typical "father works to provide for his family all day and then comes home to quiet, respectable children neither seen nor heard with food already on the table waiting for him and a wife that only speaks when spoken to and only ever to agree with her husband (and a lil bit of female "orgasm"????? by god! they've brought witchcraft back to the land of her Majesty the Queen!)"

He has an angry, uncompromising father with a temper and a mother who says thinks like, "well if *you* didn't make him angry, then you wouldn't have gotten yourself a black eye."

His dad was very physically abusive to both of them. Price really tried to stick up for his mum, but that would just set his dad off even more. And afterwards, his mum would just side with his dad, anyway. But on the flipside, I think she expected Price to protect her. So when he didn't (because he's a literal child!!), she'd get angry. But she obviously can't lash out like her husband or even her child, so uses the only weapon she has to gain some semblance of control: manipulation.

Price takes pieces of both his parents. His father, the physical aggressor, and his mother, the manipulative victim. And she is a victim, very much so. But I also think she pits them against each other. Gets bored. Causes issues. But there's power in getting someone to do what you want, and that's how she takes hers.

Price catches on to her in his early teens, but that's still his mother. Even though they have a very rocky relationship, she's still the Victim in his head, even when she's whispering in his dad's ear about all the things she despises about her son. And then going to Price (after his dad does something about it - again: disciplinarian, control freak) and playing the pitiful mother subjected to her husband's tyranny and a sad, weak son who can't do a single thing to protect her when she needs him.

Price learns to manipulate from her. Emotional blackmail. Victim-complex. Gaslighting. Scapegoating. But the biggest takeaway is the way he shifts the victim-complex into heroism (esp with Gaz). They can't be the bad guys. It's a logical fallacy in his mind. They're the ones saving the world, and if the world wasn't so riddled with bad guys, with people who need projecting, then they wouldn't need to do what they do.

I think Price has a bit of animosity towards people he sees as weaker (re: his mum having to share the victimhood with her son). But this animosity can also rear as obsession. He's the only person who can save you/them/the world. And since you/they/the world can't save yourself, then you should just listen to him.

And if you don't. Well, that's going to be a pretty big problem.

Honestly on the fence about siblings. If he has any, it's probably an older sister and she's either the equivalent of Janice Soprano (minus any of the backbone and ambition) or Barbara, resigned to her life and utterly forgetful. but I kinda like the idea of him not having any siblings to weather the storm with, you know? Like, it's just him and a mother who victim blames and ignores, and he gets the brunt of his dad's anger.

He was an obnoxious kid to be around. Probably really tried to impress his dad by adopting all of his values; baby misogyny, bite-sized authoritarianism, military fiscalism/military–industrial complex, militarism, etc., before realising (earlyyyyy teens) that he hates his dad and everything he stands for (but I'm a SUCKER for letting Price suffer and I love cyclicity and generational trauma so naturally, as much as he tries to run from the ghost of his dad, it still lingers - just in different ways; the worst thing you could ever say to Price is, you're just like your father).

Turned into a moody teen in the 80s/90s. His anger is a hair trigger. Utterly uncontrollable. But by this time, he learned to hide it because his dad's way of idealing with trauma was to add more. Therapists are pseudoscience, so he taught Price that men just bury these things. And if you can't, then you should be put down like a dog.

The assessment of a man's character was entirely based on the military tests he passed. And with Price's anger, trauma, he probably shouldn't have passed the evaluations, but since his dad, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, were all military dogs, he learned how to beat it. He's also really good at manipulating people.

I think between 16-17 there was a real attempt to do something that wasn't the military and I haven't decided which one I like better but:

He gets a job (as a port worker or in a factory). The Price name has no sway here (and baby Price grew up surrounded by people who knew his family, who revered them for their service to the country, etc). If he wants to make it, it has to be by his own merit. The problem is, while he's a hard worker, his trauma (men who remind him of his father, women who are too much like his mother) causes an incredible rift between him and authority.

If his boss is a man just like his dad, then Price is a match in a tinderbox.

If he isn't, to Price (who has only just learned to hold his tongue), the idea of a nobody being in a position of power over him will also set him off.

Either way, he's doomed.

If he man is a beast that no one can stand up to, and gets away with things because he's the boss, then Price's temper would flare pretty quickly. Especially if he comes after Price. Bullies him. Belittles him. But the worst is the humiliation. He ends up beating his boss very badly, terrifying the men around him but in their fear, and how quickly they listen to him because of it, Price realises he likes it. That fear can be weaponized. Honed.

Or: same situation, but if you lean more towards Price looking out for the underdog rather than his own self-interest, then he sticks up for someone and beats his boss to protect them. Everyone's still afraid of him, but they revere him. They do what he asks. This version, he realises that respect can be weaponized.

(and if the man is not like his dad, then Price will antagonise him into action. He'd throw the first punch, and Price will retaliate. It would still go too far, but - Nepo baby, weaponized fear: the outcome would be the same.)

He gets taken into custody. The tell him his boss is not going to make it. But Price's dad exercises every ounce of power to get his son out of trouble (because this will look very bad on them), and Price leans several things which shape him as an adult: his name has a lot of power; rules and regulations and just policing won't stop bad people unless you take it into your own hands once and for all, and people listen to him and that either version of the above can be weaponized.

He'd probably take the military a bit more seriously but only because he's trying to get vengeance for himself (even if this is subconscious and he doesn't realise it). He leaves at 18. Joins. And climbs the ranks higher than his dad.

At first, there's a concerted effort to do good but something cracks. Builds. Eventually Price comes to the conclusion that he'll have to take a more hands-on approach and get them a little bloody if he wants real change.

I have a lot of thoughts of military-dog Price. But!! That's basically it.

Shaped by physical, mental, emotional abuse; leans into the poor rich kid trope slightly. It all manifests more when he climbs the ranks, gets freedom, and realises that only he can do what needs to be done.

[flowerywoso]

The Babysitter || Irene Paredes x Reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[a1ecmcdowell]

bonnie!reader & clyde!dean - the name of the game, baby!

includes, crime :( but for the good of the people! the sexual tension is high but nothing ever gets done ab it sorry for the edging pt 2 soon tho

★ ˚⋆

times were tough these days. dean hadn't known a moment of peace from the very moment he decided that hunting wasn't doing shit for sustaining him, and, well... when he met you.

he'd made up his mind already that hunting was a deadend for him. as much as it killed him to think, it was. how could you keep up a job that didn't pay you, and expect to stay afloat? he wasn't.

it started with dining and dashing when he could, scrounging together the scraps of change and loose bills in his pockets for better things than something like a meal that he had to have or he'd die. putting money directly into corporate pockets when he'd then be out of a bed for the night was not something that he ever wanted to do.

until he met you. by chance, and by the threads of fate, you wound yourself around his heart and never let go.

he was finishing up the handful of fries on his plate, eyes drifting around the room as the waitresses moved to-and-fro. they hadn't stopped by him in a while, so he figured that he was either safe, or about to get approached and interrogated about another round of beer.

he'd take one, sure, but it'd be added to a tab he wasn't going to pay, so it was in their best interest to keep their noses out of his business.

one of the women catches his eye anyways, and she's making her way over with a noticeable sway of her hips and a swish to her long blonde hair, when-

the bell over the entrance door rings as the glass bursts open. in stumbles you, buttoning up the white blouse you wore without even looking up from it, loose and disheveled hair swaying in the burst of air your entrance caused.

you were beautiful, even in your mess, and even when your mouth opened to beg for forgiveness to a man behind the counter. "sorry! my car is shit, it wouldn't start, and-"

"louise has been covering your ass for thirty extra minutes," the man interrupts, his face stoic and unbreakable. "unpaid. don't apologize to me on your lack of punctuality, apologize to louise."

dean watches the whole exchange from his red-cushioned booth by the window, each second making his eyes narrow further. great. now he was getting a heart about stealing from this joint, just because of the way he now knew you girls were treated here. probably would have to cover his tab yourselves.

he sighs. they can't all be winners.

you're making your way over to him, and at first, with his fry smothered in a slurry of ketchup, he thinks you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and here he is, shoveling down fries like a starved man.

fry drops back onto the plate. the waitress who'd been on her way over to dean is halted by your worried little mouth running all over again. "louise-"

"fuck him. i don't mind a second of it." louise pats your forearm with her hand. "it's not even been busy. he's just a dick. this one's my last."

her free hand lifts to gesture at dean, and he again feels a flush of awareness when louise turns to him, and then follows you. your eyes nearly freeze him on the spot. big and bright. christ.

"no, it's okay, i've got him," you say, and the smile you give to him and then to her does freeze him, ice cold and solid in this shoddy little booth. "you just head on home, alright?"

dean at least tries to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. drops his head again, picks up that discarded fry from his plate.

"hi, sorry about that," you say around a frazzled sigh when you approach his table, and he can't help but bristle at how many apologies he's heard you utter in the last five minutes, all of them unnecessary. "anything i can getcha?"

he actually cannot stop looking at you. you missed a button three down from your collar, the shirt a bit crooked because of the slip. your nimble hands were in the process of tying your hair up and out of your face, flyaways dancing in the fluorescents of the diner like strands of glitter.

no, he wasn't planning on getting anything else. had cemented that idea the moment he decided he couldn't just steal from this place.

but the thought of asking for the check after only getting a few moments with you... wasn't going to fly for him.

dean lifts the empty glass bottle from the edge of his table. "just another one of these, sugar."

your lips curl something wicked, and he doesn't know why, but he knows that he feels like a teenage boy again, with the way his heart flutters at the sight. "that it?"

"yeah, that's it," and you really are a little minx, not as innocent as the act you give to your boss and your coworkers, because he can almost see the fire brewing behind your eyes, "why, you got somethin' else you wanna give me?"

that usually gets him a flush, bright pink warmth on the faces of the waitresses he says it too. you, though, only seem to brighten at the question. fire stoked. "a piece of my mind, maybe."

"alright, so sit that pretty ass down and give it to me."

you seem taken aback by it for a second, your entire face warming to such a pretty pink. your eyes flit back to the kitchen, and then to the open space in the booth across from him, and slowly, you sink down into it.

"hit me, sugar," dean says, leaning back against the ruby red cushions, "give me a little piece of that mind."

"you were gonna steal, weren't you?" you say, so fast and quick that he's taken aback this time. "when lou was leavin'. you were bankin' on her back being turned."

dean resists the urge to whistle under his breath. what an odd little talent that is, catching crimes before they happen. "nah."

"'nah'," you mimic, and his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, "i know your type. thinkin' you're some kind of robin hood, skippin' the dollar on big brother."

"i'm not going to, sugar," he insists, more firmly this time, feeling a little on edge by your blasé attitude. he'd expect someone so accurate in their assessments to already have him by the ear, leading him into the hands of the guys with cuffs. "can't make you pay for food you didn't eat, can i?"

"i can afford a beer and a plate of fries, babe," you shoot right back at him, a sickly sweet smile on those pretty pink lips of yours. "i can't afford to sit here and waste my time cracking jokes with a joke."

dean does whistle this time, a scoff of laughter falling from his mouth. "y'think i'm a joke, huh?"

"i think anyone who claims they're doing things to damn the man is." your arms fold over your chest, the blouse bunching up beneath your breasts and pushing them up just enough-- "hey. eyes up here." fuck. "that's exactly what i'm sayin'. all damn the man but you're still a tool."

"that mean you wanna use me?"

this little back and forth was the most fun dean had had in weeks. months, even, if he discredited the cheap nights with easy girls in dirty motel rooms.

"no," you stumble the words out, spluttering them out like they burn your tongue. "i don't even know your name."

"dean."

your eyes linger on his for a few moments longer, like you're trying to assess if this is another one of his lies. you must like what you see reflected back, though, because you smile, slow and languid. "dean."

the silence that follows is short-lived and buzzing. then, your lips part again. "were you really going to dine and dash?" a test. you don't sound mad, or like you're interested in turning him in at all.

his shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "that's just the name of the game, baby." he leans forward with his elbows resting on the rickety table between the two of you. "damn the man, right?"

one second passes, then two, and then you're snatching a fry from the plate in between you, dipping it in the pool of ketchup on the edge of his plate. "there are much more fun ways to damn the man."

notes, WEEEEEE i was gonna do fallen angel!dean first but something ab these two were STUCK in my head hope u dont mind

tags, @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @figthoughts @titsout4nicholas

(if u wanna be added to this btw / u are supposed to be and i keep forgetting pls know it's not a vendetta i am just a silly lil lady who doesn't know what she's doing ok)

[balrogballs]

"Bilbo had assumed accusing an elven lord of Tookishness in his own house would result in swift decapitation and not a decades-long camaraderie that both parties truly cherished, but it seemed that in this regard too, the Lord of Imladris defied expectation."

The Peculiar and the Deranged: Moments between Bilbo Baggins, Elrond Peredhel, and the most unprecedented friendship in Middle-Earth, under the cut!

(aka this friendship wasn’t leaving my mind so I wrote this on my phone and drew this with the 3 pencils I had on a train because I’m incapable of being normal about anything)

on Bilbo's first visit to Imladris, featuring Estel's pet snake:

"You had a rat?" Bilbo blinked, hoping Elrond wouldn't notice the snake he was glaring at had initially been curled around his own neck. "Sir."

"I did not have a rat," corrected Elrond imperiously, looking every bit the lord of the valley. "I would never have a rat, I do not approve of rats. My daughter had a rat. Lothinvar, it was called, the bane of my household. Until this terrible creature wormed its way in. The snake that is, not the child, though Estel is not in my good books at the moment either."

on the return journey, after the death of Thorin Oakenshield:

"What can I do? How can I ever move past this?" Bilbo asked quietly, unsure why exactly he was pouring his heart out to a being six thousand years older than him, who must have faced far greater sorrows.

"Grief," Elrond replied, staring intently at him, "tricks you into thinking it’s all you have left. As though if you let it go, even for a moment, you betray him. You hold onto relics like lifelines, thinking what else is there to keep Thorin alive in your mind? It is a lonely life, Bilbo. It will turn you into the loneliest person in the world."

"Is there no way out?" he gasped, looking up at the elf.

"Start small. A smile, perhaps, when you think of a joke he made," Elrond said steadily, like he was reciting a recipe. “And then, try telling someone about him. Perhaps you could tell me. Something new each time you visit, perhaps.”

“You say it like you have experience of it, sir,” ventured Bilbo. “Like you know it by-heart. Did you get past it?”

“I did,” Elrond’s voice was confident, too confident. Bilbo chose not to probe.

"Thorin's nephews?" Elrond asked later, after Bilbo had gathered himself together, mopped himself up. "They were slain too? Both?"

"Yes, both."

"That is good," Elrond had said with a blank, intense smile etched into his features. "That it was both at once."

"What?" Bilbo sat up in shock, spluttering. "Good? What is wrong with you?"

"Were they not twins? Thorin's nephews I recall were twins, no?"

"Brothers. But what difference does that make? What do you mean good? I beg your pardon, my lord, that's an unhinged thing to say!"

"Oh. I am sorry, Bilbo," Elrond shook his head, the awful, blank expression still on his face. "I am sorry, I spoke without thinking. It is only that I had thought they were twins. Do forgive me, I misunderstood, and spoke out of turn."

"Don't worry," Bilbo sighed, finding to his own surprise that he could manage a laugh. "With names like Fili and Kili, it's frankly a surprise they aren't."

He still thought it was a rather unhinged thing for Elrond to say, but, well — Bilbo Baggins had always been fond of the peculiar and the deranged.

on a visit to the Shire, sharing burnt scones

"Cel was — is — remarkable. She had an exceptional appetite for burnt bread: she would go into the kitchens and instruct the staff to deliberately burn sweetbreads, just because she loved the crunch, apparently."

"She sounds like a Shire lass through and through."

Elrond laughed, shaking his head: "I am certain had I brought her to visit, she would never leave. Though she is not made for the rustic life. A total terror of any creature on four legs. The first time I spotted her she was in a garden, standing on the bench screaming, because she had seen an enormous beetle scuttling around the grass."

"Oh, so it was a damsel in distress situation, eh?"

"Quite the contrary," he admitted. "She threw a pair of gardening scissors right at my head, and called me utterly disgusting for the crime of allowing beetles to exist on my property, and threatened to cut off my hair with the same scissors if she ever came across another one. And mind you, this is Celeborn's daughter, and that soul would have married an Ent if Galadriel hadn't come around."

"Well, that truly is a surprise! Did she not even like dear Arwen's little rat?"

"Oh, you remember the rat!" Elrond's eyes shone, genuinely delighted. "If I remember right, she paid our boys to get rid of it and told Arwen she had sent it to, well, your people."

"I will be certain to invent an illustrious Shire-based family tree for the rat, if your Arwen ever gets around to asking."

on a Yule visit, when Bilbo forwent self-preservation, featuring the same snake:

"Oh, it was not I who named the snake after the Mariner, it was my… other father."

"That's impressive, sir. Quite bohemian."

"One would wish," Elrond muttered darkly, pouring himself more wine, as if all the talk of snakes had driven him to drink. "Estel is friendly with Maglor, who along with Maedhros, raised my brother and I. And I had banned all talk of pet snakes until Maglor showed up last year with a present for Estel: his very own snake named Gil-Estel, which they both insist has nothing to do with the Mariner and is simply a play on the child's name. Which I would have believed, if Maglor did not also own a remarkably ugly cat named Thingol."

"When they say you are Half-Elven, Lord Elrond," Bilbo blurted out, after a short, surprised silence. "Do they mean the other half is merely mortal man, or…?"

"Yes, the other half does indeed refer to mortal men," blinked Elrond in surprise, looking something other than perfectly composed for the very first time. "Do you… suspect otherwise?"

"Oh, I was certain there was a bit of Hobbit somewhere. Just your life, you know, your family, all of it," he waved his hands about the valley. "It's a little… well, Tookish."

"What in the world is a Took?"

on a midnight wander in Minas Tirith on the morning of Aragorn’s wedding to Arwen

When Bilbo came across the figure sat on the steps, he was ridiculously old and his memory even more ridiculously ragged, so he didn’t know why it was that he thought, reflexively, it will turn you into the loneliest person in the world. He didn't say a word though, only reached out a hand and sat beside the figure. Elrond didn’t say a word, only grasped the offered fingers so tightly Bilbo's knuckles turned white, held on as he shook. When it passed, he looked away and apologised, sniffing. "Forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to get melancholic, especially not on a day of such joy. I —"

Bilbo cut across him, too old to deal with the elvish tendency to be completely insufferable.

“How did you get past it the last time? With your brother?”

"I have one of the longest memories in this land, yet I cannot truly remember this one thing," the elf smiled bitterly, tapping his nails on the stone steps. "I slept, I think. A lot. I shrunk out of the world until the sheer pain of it no longer clawed at me. But I cannot do that, Bilbo. Now, I have duties, responsibilities. I have kings to oversee, a valley to hand over and a people for whom I must keep up something of a brave face. There is no longer any room for the small death I was permitted last time."

Elrond sighed. "You must think I am terribly privileged, or that I have too grandiose an idea about my place in this world."

"No, I was just thinking how unfair it is," said Bilbo quietly. "So unfair that for you there is a last time and now a this time."

Elrond, in tears again, was looking at him with an almost obscene gratefulness, as if Bilbo had done him some enormous kindness and not something any friend would do, looked at him in a way that made the hobbit think again, inexplicably, the loneliest person in the world.

“I’m sorry,” said the lord, catching his friend’s expression. “You should not be h-“

"Shut up," Bilbo huffed, looking truly offended, rolling his eyes. "You're insufferable, do you know that? Stop acting like you've jumped off a damned cliff before my eyes, Elrond. I'm starting to think elven history would have been a lot less bloody and tragic had more of you — and I mean that Fëanor, mainly, but the rest of you too — appreciated the value of a good cry. Emotional constipation is just as bad as the real thing, you know. And you can be sure I'll tell old Fëanor that to his face when I see him."

Elrond blinked, then laughed. "Oh, Bilbo, I am glad you found your way back to Imladris this year, I truly am."

"And I, in turn,” Bilbo found himself saying, cursing the fact that his memory decided to make its wondrous reappearance that night. “Am equally glad our mutual friend Aragorn tried to bribe me to put his pet snake in your office that very first day."

on a ship in the sundering seas, far too early

"Suffering from a spot of morning sickness, are we?"

"My apologies, Bilbo," Elrond stumbled back into Bilbo's cabin from the privy, looking only slightly less green than he had when he left it. "Please do not make any sudden movements."

"I am only pleased that you and I are now such intimate friends that you feel comfortable enough to throw up your breakfast in my bathroom. Maybe you should come around and do it every morning to wake me up, like the world’s most useless cockerel."

"It was not by choice, as you very well know," Elrond muttered, downing a swig of ground herbs and honey from a bottle in his pocket. "My mortal heritage does, unfortunately, mean there are some weaknesses to the constitution. Perhaps this is why it was Elros who took ship for Numenor and not I."

"Well, that, and you couldn't resist micromanaging six thousand years of Middle-Earth now, could you?" chortled Bilbo, settling down in a plush chair and laying his walking stick by his side. "Mortality is all well and good, but heaven forbid you lose a chance to develop domestic policy over the continental grain trade. Besides, and I don't want to be the one who brings it up, but…"

"Elbereth, what now?"

"Your father was known as the Mariner, you know," Bilbo snorted. "As in, the seafaring sort, no? It would truly be such a shame if someone were to… write a poem about the mis-inheritance of seasi—"

"Write that poem, Bilbo Baggins, and I will personally petition Ulmo to turn you into seaweed."

in the house of Elrond in Aman, with the chattiest woman Bilbo has ever encountered (which is saying something)

"I only burned that layer because you made me do it, mind you. You really are as remarkable as he said you were," Bilbo blurted out as she picked out pink sugared biscuits with a dark crust that he knew to be from burning. He had even spread jam on them for a second layer of sweetness. "Mad and irritating, to be frank, but remarkable. I am truly glad to know you, Celebrìan — not as Elrond's wife, but, well."

He gestured at her weakly, meant the peculiar and the deranged. She understood.

"Yes, I do pity all the folk that know me as Elrond's dead wife," she wrinkled her nose, sitting down by him and grabbing a second burnt biscuit. "And considering my poor husband's approach to grieving, and all the laments Lindir said he's made him compose, that is what most end up knowing me as. It is quite a pity, I am as you say, delightful. Oh, Bilbo, this is amazing! So wonderful, I didn't think pastries could be this sweet!”

"No, not when your cheapskate of a husband is in charge of the rations," he said in a carrying whisper. "In the Shire though, we know how to live."

"Who are we referring to as a cheapskate then?"

"The elf who implemented a sugar tax in his valley," said Celebrian dryly. "You may know him. Have a biscuit!"

"I would truly rather nail myself to the birch," he said dryly, picking up a piece of bread. "I do not get the logic behind oversweetening victuals. Impractical, unnecessary."

"Oh," Celebrían clapped her hands to her mouth. "Of course! The Lord Elrond grew up amidst the War of Wrath! Surely, he has not mentioned that to you, has he? He never does!"

"Ah, that he was raised in military conditions by a couple of kinslayers?" chuckled Bilbo. "No, not at all. Not once. He certainly never brought it up in our first ever conversation. Should we ask him to expand?"

[deathbxnny]

hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!

Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader

Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.

Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.

"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.

"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.

》EKKO

He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.

It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.

"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.

"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

The festival was going to be great, to say the least.

》JINX

You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.

Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.

And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"

[marauders-bs]

i swear this one was originally a microfic and then it wasn't. putting a cut because it's long af

@myvaginacalledmehomo-blog this is... similar? the thing you commented under was a fic but i figured i'd tag you anyways since this one is longer

@aletharaej THANK YOU FOR BETAING THIS YOURE MY FAVORITE

i would tag my lovely partner for getting me through this by bringing me cheese but. oh well sorry lei

Luna twisted a ring on her finger. "You're sure this will work, are you?"

"It worked for me and Ron, so, yeah, I think so," Harry said, pulling out the Stone. It had shown him his mother and father and Sirius and Remus, and Harry was curious who it would show Luna.

As she turned it over in her fingers, figures began to pop up. First, a boy and a girl who looked similar to Luna, one with blonde braids and the other with cornrows. Next was a smirking dyed blonde with eyeliner. Close behind her was a tall woman Harry recognized from the papers as Dorcas Meadowes. Soon after appeared a taller boy not much older than Luna or Harry who looked rather like Sirius, and then Remus.

"Luna," said the girl with blonde braids. She was clearly Pandora Lovegood, Luna's mom.

"Mum," Luna said, then turned her head to each spirit in turn. "Uncle Evan. Aunt Lennie, Aunt Cassie. Uncle Reg. Uncle Remus."

"You're tall now, Luna-girl," the dyed blonde Luna had addressed as Aunt Lennie said. "Last I saw you, you weren't much bigger than a bottle of soap."

"Yeah, she's got the Black eyes, too," the boy who was clearly Regulus Black said, smiling softly. "I guess I didn't live long enough to see that. We match."

Luna smiled back at him. Knowing when Regulus died, Harry knew that they wouldn't have met. Harry wondered why he had appeared. By all accounts, he shouldn't have.

"You've got the right idea, Luna," Remus said suddenly. "You might try that. We've got some lovebirds here who need to catch up."

"What, like you?" Luna's Aunt Lennie said teasingly, poking a ghostly finger into his arm.

Luna laughed softly as the spirits began to bicker good-naturedly, and she passed the Stone to Harry.

He took it, a bit confused, and his father appeared, then Lily, then Sirius.

"The fuck?" Sirius said, looking around. "Reg, what are you doing here?"

"I brought him," Luna said. "I wanted to meet him."

Harry took a look around and found the way the spirits were standing- odd. His father was standing next to Regulus. His mum was standing next to Luna's. Remus and Sirius were standing together, closer than he'd ever seen them in life.

"Haz," James said, eyebrows knitting together, "Do you not know?"

"I don't think Luna does either," Dorcas said, smirking sideways at the dyed blonde next to her.

"Stop being horny for Marlene, Cassie, you're dead," Regulus said.

"Know what?" Harry asked, trying to direct the conversation.

Sirius's only response was to hold up his left had. A sparkling ring was on it, gold amidst all of his silver. Remus held up his hand as well to show the same ring.

"The fuck?" James shrieked, flying to tackle the two. "You got engaged and didn't tell me?"

"Well, yeah, Prongs, it happened the night before you died," Sirius replied, voice muffled.

"Us, too," Luna's mum said quietly, holding up her and Harry's mum's joined hands.

Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to process what Pandora had just said.

"Dora, you can't just drop that on them, they'll freak," said the boy with cornrows. "Also, where's Barty?"

"Barty Crouch Jr?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"He's the love of my life and he held me while I died, duh," said the man who had to be Evan Rosier.

Luna's shoulders slumped. "He impersonated Alastor Moody for nine months and kept him in a box, attempted to have Harry killed by Voldemort, and was given the Dementor's Kiss."

There was a noticable posture change for all of them. Dorcas, James, and Regulus slouched a little, but Evan brightened. "Petty motherfucker."

"Topic at hand, Ev," Pandora said.

Lily grinned at Harry's dumbfounded look. "Yup, Haz. I was a surrogate for these two fucking idiots because Reg wanted a kid and James will do anything for him, at all, ever."

"Rude," James said, arms crossed playfully.

"True," Regulus countered, sharing a grin with Remus.

Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening anymore, but he knew one thing for sure: these were people he really should've grown up with.

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[chimerafeathers]

there's an essay jumbled up in my brain about dunmeshi's beginning and how clever and deceptive it is as a sleight-of-hand trick that distracts the audience from the depth and scope of the worldbuilding and foreshadowing that's being set up the entire time by dangling zany characters and wacky dishes and biology fun facts in front of us, and how that serves to catch invested viewers off guard when those elements come to the forefront, but also how it works against it with other viewers wanting "more" and not seeing it because the plot bait isn't laid out up front

how people getting frustrated with the characters "not taking things seriously" is mirrored and refuted in the confrontation between Laios and Shuro. how the characters' attitudes aren't just a result of shallow low-stakes "comedy rules" where nothing matters, but are an extension of their personalities (Laios's nonstandard expression of emotions being offputting even to people he knows) and the world and social environment (adventurers being desensitized to death and injury because resurrection magic is commonplace). the way the party refers to "saving Falin" instead of "retrieving Falin's corpse," indicating that they still see her with full personhood, and how that phrasing leads to some readers/viewers believing that Falin is alive in the dragon's stomach, conscious of being slowly digested while the party carelessly fucks around "wasting time." how the weird tonal dissonance makes sense in-universe and yet is deliberately challenged more and more the deeper the party goes

all the character building and pieces of lore slowly weaving together the shape of the larger world, laying the groundwork for the major themes that will surface later. so much is right there in the "low-stakes" early episodes if you know what you're looking for (or pass the perception checks).

it can be so satisfying to see new viewers/readers pick up on the clues even in the earliest "simple" episodes, or notice new things and make connections yourself....and it can also be frustrating to see people dismiss oddities and dissonance as shallow or bad writing because they don't expect a "cooking anime" to have depth like that. why try to question and understand and peel back the layers when you don't expect there to be any layers?

why can't laios take things seriously for once?

[phantajam]

my hot take about descendants is that NONE of the core four were ready for a relationship until maybe like, the third movie (rant in tags)

[dragonmasterhiccup]

She did as asked, hesitantly looking him they eyes, and she let him speak without interruption.

She was utterly disgusted, at Grimmel, for doing what he did, but… also with Hiccup.

In the end, none of this was her fault; she was the one who was kidnapped, the one who was drugged and manipulated, the one who was forced to kill those people, destroy those buildings, she was forced, by Grimmel, this was him.

And yet she needed consequences?

She was innocent.

Hiccup was only doing this to save his reputation, he had not a care in the world for her.

The disgust bubbled to her chest, mixing with a new found anger that then crawled to her throat.

“Firstly,” she mocked, “You aren’t glad to have me back, because now you have to deal with all these problems that apparently involve me. I’m truly sorry that I’m burdening you, but I was forcefully brought back to by Berk, by you, you could have easily left me for dead, that was your decision.”

She glared at him. “What if it had been Astrid, hm? Or Mom? Or any of the other dragon riders? Would they need ‘consequences?’ Of course they wouldn’t. And yes, that is your fault, killing Grimmel. You put me in this position, because you were selfish and you weren’t thinking about anyone else but yourself, and escaping.”

“I’m not speaking to the council,” she decided, trying to hide the waver in her voice. “The only consequence that I want is execution, done by you. I want you to kill me. Make it public while you’re at it. I’m not getting locked up again, I refuse, and I’m also not working for you against my will, because that’s enslavement, making an innocent person work forcefully. So you either kill me, or you let me go, those are your options.”

Her head was starting to hurt, and she was still tired, but by the Gods, she was enraged.

(Feel like she has a right to be angry though, not gonna lie. Also, we’ll still do that plot point, don’t worry! I just feel like Danny acting like this is justified for a bit.)

As she berated him, he realized just how badly he'd handled this.

Once she finished, he held his hands up, leaning forward in his chair.

"Wait, wait, please, I, I need you to understand...I'm not blaming you, for any of this. None of this is your fault!"

It was just like how the alpha dragon used Toothless, he knew that. But his emotions were getting the best of him, and his voice reflected the turmoil he felt inside.

"I'm not blaming you for what I did to Grimmel. That was my choice. Bringing you home? My choice as well. I...I couldn't leave you there... when I planned my escape, I always planned on taking you with me, there was no debating that. Do you know why I did it? Because he was going to kill you and kill Toothless, no matter what I did!"

"You pointed out that it could have been anyone? That's exactly what I want the council to see! They were able to see that Toothless had no control over what happened to my dad, I thought, if we worked together, they could see it was the same for you."

"For the love of Thor Danny, why does it always come to this? I'm human! I'm going to make mistakes! Obviously, the way I started this conversation was a big one, but after everything we've been through, you should know me well enough by now to know," and here, his voice broke, the anger and frustration melting into hurt, "that the last thing I'd ever want is for you or anyone else I care about to suffer."

[fideidefenswhore]

[Henry] had asked Lady Shelton whether Mary [was] persisting in her obstinancy. Hearing that she was, Henry became certain that she was being encouraged by secret communication from Katharine. Lady Shelton thought the only possible messenger was Mary's chamber woman. In this she was correct. The maid had been smuggling letters in and out. She was dismissed, as was Mary's confessor, to be replaced by one whom Chapuys characterised as 'Lutheran'.

The King’s Pearl: Henry VIII & His Daughter Mary, Melita Thomas

[eviltothecore13]

lots of people in this fandom CLAIM to love Gomez but when someone makes a post with Morticia as "Barbie is everything" and Gomez as "he's just Ken", it gets likes and reblogs

like...isn't that meme essentially saying "he's bland and boring/doesn't do anything interesting/is no good at anything and has nothing special about him, and no-one cares about him that much because he's just some bland generic guy with no personality beyond being a sidekick"?

do the majority of fans genuinely believe Gomez has no personality and no interesting traits?

[canceriancryptid]

.

wow so apparently 30 tags is the limit, that's cool, not rereading any of that shit, the void can have it and my run on sentences

[astonmartinii]

little lion | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem young mum!reader

journalists go digging in max's past and think they've found f1's next big scandal - but they underestimate just how protective max is of his little lion

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1tea

liked by user5, user6 and 23,095 others

f1tea: this is y/n y/ln the supposed baby momma of max verstappen. not much is known about her, with her only going back to work recently as a therapist in monaco.

her and max had their baby, a girl, back when they were 17 in 2015. max has never been seen in public with the child and has never publicly claimed her either.

will we see her in the paddock now all the news is out?

view all comments

user7: holy shit this is insane

user8: this poor girl doesn't deserve this

user9: literally, either max is a present father and is just private or he doesn't have anything to do with them? but it coming out like this is probably stressful regardless

user10: also by my calculations, the baby will be nearly nine, so probably has a concept of fame and celebrity and if they haven't gone to a race it's probably for a reason

user11: i mean the way people are already talking about them proves them right already

user12: ted kravitz telling it like it is 🤲

user13: no he's not ??? he basically went on broadcast to call y/n a slut and try and say that he was 'always right about max because this proves he is reckless'

user14: once again, this child is eight and could understand some of this if they see it

user15: also the incidents ted is bringing up happened EIGHT YEARS AGO stop bringing a child into your weird agenda

user16: if he's not careful red bull will ban sky from their media run again

user17: i found her instagram and max, alex and daniel all follow her so it's defo legit

user18: i also found it but it's private :(

user19: i tried to follow but got blocked :/

user20: do you people have rocks for brains if it's private it means we're not meant to find it, if she's not spoken about it in eight years that means IT'S NOT OUR BUSINESS

user21: someone tell max to get a DNA test asap, gold diggers will do anything for money and fame

user22: what fame? she's got like 400 followers and has never spoken about max to any media outlet

user23: the way you people jump to gold digging allegations kill me

user24: also if max is the dead beat that sky are trying to make him out to be and y/n is a gold digger then why haven't we seen some child support claims and whatnot

user25: you have no shame posting this, if she didn't want to be found she doesn't want to be found

user26: f1 vultures at their best

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2,389,774 others

maxverstappen1: i've seen a lot of journalists and 'professionals' trying to point score with the 'big revelation' of my daughter. sydney is the love of my life and for someone who grew up in the public eye i thought it would be best to keep my daughter away from the circus. not that i owe it to any of you people, but i see syd as much as i possibly can and i didn't want to post her or bring her to the paddock until she could make that choice for herself. y/n is a wonderful mother and is the exact support system i would want for my daughter.

view all comments

user27: MAX IS A GIRL DAD?

user28: congratulations media and internet you forced him to expose his kid

user29: the way they probably see this as a victory annoys me to my core

yourusername: you're an amazing father max, don't let them tell you anything else. sydney loves you and that's all that matters.

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n, i miss you both - see you this weekend!

yourusername: we look forward to it! x

user30: she didn't say that she loves him too so they're defo not together

user31: will you people ever learn to read the room?

user32: oh wow so max does see his daughter - watch sky still run with the deadbeat angle

user33: they were so shameless about his SLEEP SCHEDULE i cannot imagine the shit crofty is going to throw at him over this

danielricciardo: i'm sorry for how this has all come out max but i'm so glad i can publicly express my love for my god daughter!

maxverstappen1: this might mean that you can give her all of your gifts in person (if she wants to come) lord knows i can never fit them back in my suitcase

user34: you literally have a private jet?

maxverstappen1: you underestimate how seriously daniel takes being a god parent

danielricciardo: i think i'm singlehandedly keeping jellycat in business tbf

yourusername: and ikea, i have to buy a new shelving unit every couple of weeks daniel

danielricciardo: SYD IS MY BEST FRIEND LEAVE ME ALONE

user35: drop 💥 the 💥 daniel 💥 and 💥 sydney 💥 photos 💥 now 💥

user36: actually don't i don't think my baby fever can take it

alexalbon: you're an amazing father max and sydney is the coolest girl in the world!

maxverstappen1: thank you alex 😊

alexalbon: also if you ever convince y/n to come to races PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make her bake me some of her iconic brownies

yourusername: alex you know i can just bake you some and send them to you via max

alexalbon: please 😫😫😫

yourusername: no worries albono, you're a growing boy you need the nutrients

maxverstappen1: they're brownies

alexalbon: i need y/n's brownies to deal with YOU

maxverstappen1: ok maybe this is why i don't want to introduce you all :(

yourusername: don't worry maxie i'll make you some goodies to go

maxverstappen1: thank you :)

user37: she makes him to-go goodies 🥹

yourusername

liked by feranandoalo_oficial, danielricciardo and 319,506 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm not very happy that i have to make this statement like this because people couldn't respect the boundaries max and i have set as parents but alas: max is the loveliest man in the world and the best father sydney could ask for. he has a very busy life but he still makes as much time as possible for syd and she loves him very much. max has been in the spotlight from a very young age and did not want that pressure and spectacle on his own daughter. we may have never been together, but max has never been the monster you're trying to make him out to be. please respect my daughter's privacy. thank you.

view all comments

user41: once again, this is a very cute family but god this is a horrible way to find out about them :(

user42: i hope they know so so many of us are supporting them

danielricciardo: syd has grown so much i actually feel kind of sick

yourusername: i was a mess on her first day of school :(

danielricciardo: oh i can imagine ... max never told us but i'm sure he was his usual stoic self

yourusername: he tried, but we did both cry over a carton of ice cream for the whole morning

maxverstappen1: IT WAS A VERY EMOTIONAL MORNING

yourusername: it really was 🥺

user43: i'm sorry but why do two europeans have a daughter called SYDNEY?

maxverstappen1: she's nearly eight... i made my f1 debut in australia eight years ago... i can't hold your hand any more than that

user44: LMAOOOOOOO

danielricciardo: i am HURT i thought she was named after her beloved god father?

yourusername: if that was the case do you not think we would've gone for the more obvious option of DANIELLE???

maxverstappen1: also you were just an acquaintance and childhood crush at that point daniel

yourusername: omg childhood crush on daniel SNAP

danielricciardo: i'm not that old???

maxverstappen1: we have such good taste

yourusername: we REALLY do

user44: so like they're defo flirting right?

user45: ugh you people have no class (i hope so)

landonorris: i'm so sorry for you guys BUT THANK GOD IT WAS SO HARD TO KEEP HER A SECRET

maxverstappen1: i mean y/n and i kept her a secret for like nearly eight years 🤨

yourusername: i also 100% caught your slip ups you're just lucky there was never any rumour at those times

landonorris: I AM A BLABBERMOUTH PLEASE BE PROUD OF ME

maxverstappen1: fine?

yourusername: i'd be more proud but everyone else also kept the secret sooooo ???

alexalbon

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 894,503 others

tagged: lilymunhe, yourusername

alexalbon: with permission i am now allowed to post my bestest friend in the world!

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user46: god has heard my prayers and gave me my alex and sydney content

user47: i'd say what a random pairing but i think my brain just blocked out alex at red bull as a trauma response

alexalbon: lord knows i only got through being locked in the sim with y/n's brownies and hugs from syd

yourusername: syd asked for her favourite uncle to score more points so we can get ice cream again

alexalbon: i'll fix the damn williams myself

yourusername: hurry up she's getting impatient (i have no clue where she gets that from)

maxverstappen1: I AM NOT IMPATIENT I JUST LIKE THINGS BEING DONE IN A PROMPT MANNER

yourusername: is that what you tell the engineers?

maxverstappen1: ... something along those lines

yourusername: are you going to get more community service?

maxverstappen1: i don't think there were any cameras ???

user48: so max doesn't believe in not swearing around kids... how bad is it with sydney?

maxverstappen1: i am on my BEST behaviour for her

alexalbon: she's like a little sailor

maxverstappen1: in my defence she's much cuter when she swears than me

charles_leclerc: is this why she called me a wanker when i didn't bring leo to the house?

yourusername: i fear that has alex albon written all over it

alexalbon: whoops!

lilymunhe: we need another play date asap !! he goes so mushy i can get him to do all the cute dates i wanna do

yourusername: is that why i got given a badly painted mug?

alexalbon: hey! i worked very hard on that :(

maxverstappen1: i thought sydney painted it alex

alexalbon: can you guys stop ganging up on me :(((((

yourusername: no!

maxverstappen1: 😘

user49: feeling some ... tension here

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,450,987 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: guess who wanted to come see dad at work?

view all comments

user51: oh she really is max verstappen's daughter with that cold middle finger to ted kravitz

user52: are they going to make an eight year old do community service as well?

yourusername: great now she's attached to the engineers

maxverstappen1: oh noooooooooo how will we ever cope??? maybe we should all go to every race ???

yourusername: that would be very convenient, wouldn't it?

maxverstappen1: i can see you smiling while typing, i don't think you're as opposed as you say you are

yourusername: you got me! i like to see syd happy :(

maxverstappen1: and me...?

yourusername: and you, i guess 😚

user53: so like are we just going to ignore all of this ^^ and the second picture?

user54: it would be nice that through all the shit they've had thrown at them that they got together through it

danielricciardo: he's been waiting long enough

maxverstappen1: DANIEL???

danielricciardo: what ???

user55: daniel, thank you for your service

user56: i mean we've seen them at one race and it's crazy to think they're not together

alexalbon: why did i have to track my bestie down at the hotel? you verstappens too good for the williams garage?

yourusername: we were busy !!!

alexalbon: franco is distraught

francocolapinto: i am?

alexalbon: yes!!!!

francocolapinto: i am!

maxverstappen1: stop yapping for the love of god i was getting my shit together - something YOU told me to do

alexalbon: fine... i guess

user57: so like that's confirmation right?

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 2,349,855 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm still reporting all you journalists to the ethics boards but i guess something good did come out of all of this

view all comments

user58: FUCK SKY SPORTS BUT THANK THE LORD THIS IS SO CUTE

user59: a family that flips off ted kravitz together, stays together!

user60: y/n's dirty look at him will forever be legendary

maxverstappen1: i've always loved you, and i've loved playing the long game with you and prioritising syd !! here's to the rest of our lives xx

yourusername: i've always loved you too but as convoluted as it has been i think this has been the best way to be - all love to syd first

maxverstappen1: but now we can cut the shit and do all the cute things without it having to be a 'play date'

yourusername: i love you dummy, but your cats are mine now

maxverstappen1: they've always been yours, just like me

user61: okay fuck you guys this is too fucking cute

user62: no because i'm too chronically lonely to read this this morning

landonorris: FINALLY, I COULDN'T KEEP ANOTHER SECRET FOR MUCH LONGER

danielricciardo: booooooo, we've all kept this secret you're not special

landonorris: i thought i was the only one who max told about his feelings? like literally on the podium when he saw y/n and syd watching?

oscarpiastri: i think you just can't read people lando, even i knew max liked y/n and i've only seen them interact THIS WEEKEND

alexalbon: we've all known forever lando, you're not getting sympathy for keeping the secret for 12 hours

user63: the grid being so protective of the lil family is so cute

user64: i read that george got the GDPA to sign a petition that the media couldn't ask about syd before max was ready to start the conversation himself

user65: also by the sounds of it, they've been rooting for this relationship just as long as max and y/n

maxverstappen1: i'm so lucky to have two amazing girls in my life, i'll love you forever and as long as you'll have me

yourusername: now i have you, i'm never letting you go

maxverstappen1: right back at you

yourusername: you're the bestest father ever and the love of my life, never let anyone tell you anything else my gentle boy

maxverstappen1: i love you both more than anything ever, you're my guardian angel and syd is my favourite little lion

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN BIRTHDAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE !!!