#but to anyone who's sent one I See it and I Am thinking about all of them all the time

[ideasnstuff]

solitude

chuuya angst on its finest

Enjoy!

Nakahara Chuuya had just returned from an overseas mission. For three and long months.

Although it hadn’t been an exactly problematic mission, it certainly had been a tedious one.

Chuuya was rarely sent abroad by the boss, but he was not someone to question.

Usually, he never had the inclination to question or contest his Boss' orders. After all, he was only meant—only expected—to follow them, without saying anything.

Besides, it was not that bad. Chuuya knew that Mori had the organization's best interests at heart.

When the man brought the subject to light, he simply nodded and bowed. The next day, he left Yokohama.

And at first, it had been a completely new setup.

There, Chuuya was not meant to kill, punch, or fight against anyone.

No.

His only tool was words, and the battlefield was a tedious conference room.

It was beyond boring, but he knew it was necessary.

Eventually, he learned.

He learned to be a diplomat and represent the Port Mafia.

Back then, before he left, his partner had told him that much.

He had also mocked Chuuya because he was sure he was unable to do anything but “bark” and “punch.”

Well, Chuuya proudly proved Dazai wrong.

There, a diplomat was born—a former fighter, now representing the Port Mafia.

And all of this had happened between alcohol, a few laughs, and insults.

Although Dazai's opinion on that had been clear, "Ugh, who am I going to annoy if Chuuya is not here?!"

It may have been his way of saying that he would miss Chuuya, but it's not that Chuuya noticed it—he was way too drunk by that time.

So, he simply grumbled, "Go bother someone else then."

"Buahhh, that's so rude!" Dazai whined with his annoying high-pitched voice. He almost pouted like a child. "Then I hope Chuuya’ll die there, so I will never have to see his face!"

And Chuuya was probably too drunk to answer anything back.

After this exchange, everything was a blur. He didn't remember anything about that night.

And this scene filled his thoughts when he returned to the Mafia building, with the intent to report his mission.

As he walked down the hall toward the boss' office, he wondered about what Mori's reaction would be like.

Chuuya was aware he had learned quite a lot during those months, especially when the country he had been in was France.

He had a whole meticulously planned and written report. Perhaps his good mood was related to it.

He was more than certain he'd be promoted to executive after this.

And the best part?

He'd finally read the documents about his past.

Lost in thoughts that he almost instantaneously had dismissed, he stopped in front of the door that gave access to Mori's office.

Then, two confident knocks were heard.

A melody reverberated after a brief and lingering silence.

"You may enter," the soft but cold voice like ice said.

He carefully opened the door and stepped in, bowing respectfully as he usually did.

In his hand lay the documents.

"Welcome back, Chuuya-kun." Mori talked with his elbows pressed against the table and his fingers intertwined, displaying a sluggish and uncharacteristic smile on his lips. "I hope you have good news for me."

Chuuya raised his head as his expression went rigid and serious.

After some time, he nodded. "Boss," he bowed once again, but this time it was just a slight one. "I have the report here," he lifted the papers slightly.

Mori didn't react as his eyes sharply hovered over his subordinate.

He didn't say anything for a while, and Chuuya didn’t move either.

"Oh well! You may leave them here," he nodded towards the desk. As Chuuya walked firmly toward it, putting the reports there in a gentle move, Mori watched it with a thoughtful expression. "I think you know what comes after, don't you, Chuuya-kun?"

Chuuya looked at Mori with an emotionless expression.

Mori continued, taking his subordinate’s silence as a consent to speak, “As the leader of this organization, I am forced to admit that you've become an extremely important asset to the Mafia.” his tone sounded exactly like a lullaby— but if one would ever fall asleep, one might, would never wake up. Mori smiled a little more openly and genuinely. “But before anything, I need to discuss it with the other executives, as you may have calculated,” he gestured into the air—slow and fluid movements.

Chuuya's expression didn't change—he said nothing for a moment. "I understand, Boss."

Mori smiled. "I am certain everyone will agree with it, but... ahhh, you know how the bureaucracy around here is, right?"

The answer was silent, but it was there—written all over Chuuya's stormy and lively eyes.

The man gazed at the other for a while, seeming to irradiate with expectations that he wanted to see if they were true.

Yet, that didn't make Chuuya very nervous.He was more than used to Mori’s mechanisms, after all. After a while, straightening his posture, Mori gestured toward the door with his typical neutral expression.

"If there isn't anything you think I should be aware of, you are dismissed."

A bow and Chuuya left—unaware of Mori's slow and mysterious smile that appeared as soon as he had turned his heels to leave.

And an agreement between the executives was, in fact, quickly obtained.

Everyone knew that Chuuya had been essential to the Mafia—he and Dazai Osamu, but that was another story.

Normally, a promotion was just a piece of paper, but for some reason, Mori decided to give Chuuya something else.

Well, actually no. It had been two... no, three things.

Two of them were surprisingly pleasant, and Chuuya benefited from one of them.

The third one was given to him, in the worst time possible.

It had happened just after Chuuya had accessed the documents about his past. Those pages were possibly the worst thing Chuuya had ever laid his eyes on.

But although extremely perturbing, it hadn't been surprising—Dazai once had told him about it, as an act of forgiveness for some stupid and precipitated action he once had made.

Speaking about Dazai... Where was he?

As he was thinking about it, Kouyou entered the room, bringing in the mafia elegance and a certain pleasant smell—her perfume. Light steps echoed around him as the woman rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"Congratulations, lad," she greeted, her voice calm and elegant like a violin solo. Then she quickly—but elegantly—retracted her hand from her pupil's shoulder as she walked towards an empty seat at the table.

Chuuya looked up at her with a respectful nod.

"Ane-san…" he smiled a little, "Thank you," he nodded.

Kouyou smiled back and then sighed.

"Mm. I heard the boss has been thinking about giving you something... special..."

Chuuya's heart was still heavy, and his mind was spinning from reading such cruel reports.

"Is that so..." he said with no enthusiasm; he paused and then looked at her. "Was everyone in agreement with my promotion?"

Kouyou lifted a hand to her pink mouth, seemingly thoughtful.

"If I remember correctly... yes... everyone was in agreement with your promotion," she smiled—almost a fraternal, proud smile. "I expected no less of you, lad."

Chuuya reciprocated the smile, but then he stopped.

Something was not making sense here.

Because he remembered what Dazai had told him when he became an executive.

"Well, being an executive has its perks, you know? I can always vote against Chuuya's promotion!"

Although it had been a joke, Chuuya—more than anyone—knew how far Dazai would go just to annoy him. He was certain that Dazai would vote against his promotion, just to annoy him, and not because he was against it.

After all, he had been the one giving him clues about those awful documents. He made Chuuya’s pain a little more… bearable, and that was something that Chuuya was thankful for—not that he would ever say it to Dazai.

So, there was no way that Dazai had voted for his promotion.

But just to clarify his doubt, he asked Kouyou for information.

"What about Dazai?" he asked, and Kouyou narrowed her eyes. "Did that bastard vote for my promotion?"

"Dazai-kun?" she asked, then paused, pressing her lips together. "Oh, Dazai-kun was not there to vote, so don't worry," Kouyou smiled.

That caught Chuuya off guard. He wasn’t in the mafia? How was that even possible?

Dazai didn’t make overseas missions as he was the Boss’ right hand. 

So why was he not in the meeting?

"Did that bastard skip the meeting?" Chuuya found himself wondering out loud.

Kouyou looked at him for a while, with a cautious expression.

Then she sighed. "In a way... yes," she said quietly; Chuuya narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he let out an incredulous laugh. "Did that bastard skip his obligations, again?" he half-smiled a bit, amused—as his partner, he was more than used to Dazai's irresponsible and indifferent behavior.

But still, Chuuya couldn’t believe the guy’s attitude—the disrespect. Plus, he lost a perfect chance to ruin Chuuya’s life, which was a bit unusual.

Kouyou stared at him with a doubtful expression—she was looking at him as if Chuuya was having a strange behavior. Inclusively, she even frowned with questions behind her eyes. 

But then her face became increasingly more understanding and almost... apprehensive. 

That was what surprised Chuuya—he waited a bit anxiously for her answer.

Then, it arrived.

"Chuuya, lad..." she sighed softly, closing her eyes with almost a sad expression. "Dazai-kun..." she paused. "Is not in the mafia... anymore."

And each word, each interval between them, felt like a slap.

Leave it to Kouyou to make everything emotional with her incredibly silk voice.

Time stopped, and so did Chuuya’s mind.

He wasn't able to answer it.

So, Kouyou, looking at him, sighed and explained.

"Yesterday he was declared a traitor," she informed, then paused to give Chuuya some time to process the information; she added, "He is not in the mafia anymore. That’s why he was not part of this meeting." her voice was gentle, like a silent apology.

And Chuuya… Chuuya… he couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling at that moment.

If someone would ever ask him what he was thinking, he'd… be silent.

Because… he didn’t know.

All he felt was something similar to emptiness.

Similar to the collapse of the wall that was being built.

Something similar to… pain.

Pain... he hadn’t felt that in a long time. But it was an old friend to him, a familiar sensation. He could recognize the sword that crossed his own heart anytime.

Kouyou didn’t speak anymore—probably in respect—and she gave Chuuya the intention of wanting to leave.

But before she had the chance to do it, he spoke for the first time.

Straight as a narrow.

"Oh. Is that so?" his voice was not trembling or anything, but his heart was emptier than he had remembered. "I wonder why I was not informed of."

Kouyou sighed in concordance. Slowly.

"The Boss thought it would be something that would trouble your performance, so he didn’t tell you," she said.

The next words were not thought nor planned.

They just flew out of his lips, like it had been a shot.

"Then, the Boss was wrong," he said firmly, making Kouyou widen her eyes. He looked directly at Kouyou. "The fact that Dazai is not here anymore doesn’t make things any different," he said, not leaving her gaze. "I’ll be the same as I always had been," Chuuya declared, and Kouyou looked surprised for a while. Then she glared at him, trying to find—perhaps—a lie or an act—but there were none.

Therefore, Kouyou, visibly relieved, raised her eyebrows.

"I see... I am glad you are not letting your emotions take control of your obligations," and she was being genuine.

Once more, Chuuya didn’t think before speaking.

"Why would I even care about Dazai leaving? He is nothing to me. He was my partner, but from the moment he betrayed this organization," he tried to control his anger, "he has lost that privilege, and he is no longer part of my life."

Despite his notable emotional control, Kouyou noticed how he stood up and pushed the chair—noisily.

She smiled neutrally, understanding the situation—but she didn’t say anything about it.

Chuuya, however, continued. "I have better things to do than to worry about traitors," he said, and bowed his head. "If you excuse me, Ane-san, I have something to do."

Kouyou smiled. At that point, she didn’t know who Chuuya was trying to fool—her or himself.

She cleared her throat, hiding a smile behind her sleeve.

"Of course, lad," she said. Nevertheless, "I look forward to working with you as an executive, Chuuya," she said softly.

And he just offered a plain smile, but grateful anyway.

"I feel the same, Ane-san."

After those words, he left and didn’t look back.

His mind was empty, and he didn’t think about Dazai or the fact that he had left the mafia during the whole course.

Chuuya was pretty sure he was not thinking about what he was doing, just walking without a destination.

Perhaps it had been his inner voice telling him to meet his past.

And for once, he followed it.

His heart was beating quickly with some anxiety as he walked down the stairs.

He felt like he was seeing his past before his eyes.

Memories that were lost for years were coming back.

The Port Mafia basement.

He was in front of it.

He was feeling nothing and thinking about nothing.

Dazai had left; he was a traitor.

Okay, that was fine for Chuuya.

He had always known Dazai's poor loyalty to the Mafia.

That was totally fine with him, so... so why was he there?

If it had meant nothing, why was Chuuya looking for someone to talk with... if... if his departure meant nothing?

He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts, and he pushed the door that gave access to the basement.

The sound of blades clashing echoed, and a voice he hadn’t listened to in a while—but never forgotten—filled his ears and went straight to his empty heart.

Suddenly, the blades stopped, and he heard a muttering before the same voice said, "Chuuya, little brother... what a... pleasant surprise..." his voice was melodious as always, and for once, it felt like a blessing to Chuuya's emptiness.

He, indeed, had not felt like that in a while.

He walked towards the man he called his brother, then he looked at him, eye to eye.

"Paul Verlaine."

The man he had once wished to kill.

The murderer of his friends.

But also his savior.

The gradually visible light showed his brother's majestic features and his elegance.

Paul Verlaine had a beautiful and calm smile on his lips. It almost made Chuuya's heart break in pieces, seeing the warmth and adoration written in those eyes.

He felt incredibly weak.

Those cold and sharp eyes—the eyes of an assassin, who killed with no hesitation and whose hands were filled with blood.

But to Chuuya, the gesture felt immensely warm—a warmth that came from the man who had murdered his friends with brutality.

Perhaps it had been due to his current situation, but... Paul Verlaine's smile felt like a blessing.

Maybe, for once, Chuuya could see him as a proper brother.

He felt like a child who wanted to run toward his brother's arms and cry until the night came.

However, Chuuya didn’t cry.

He wouldn’t... cry.

Instead, he closed his eyes as he sighed.

And Verlaine immediately noticed something else behind his beloved brother's heart.

He looked like a child—small and fragile—who was struggling to admit that they had been responsible for breaking their mother's vase.

Struggling to ask for help, for a hand.

It reminded him of the day he saved Chuuya from that researcher.

He looked so vulnerable... he almost looked like a stray dog...

His face, polished like marble, was beautiful as always, lit by the illumination. But his eyes were like two polished jewels that didn’t shine with life.

Stagnant, yet beautiful.

Inside, Verlaine could see something that he knew no human could: solitude.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

"I have a table where we can talk," his voice was soothing, and it felt better than any caressing. "Walk with me."

And like a lost sheep, Chuuya followed Verlaine to the table.

As they sat down, he noticed the teapot and several cups, with the respective dish under each one.

Verlaine's artificial heart squeezed as he carefully looked at Chuuya, who seemed unsure of even perhaps his own existence.

However, Chuuya didn’t seem dead. If anything, it felt like... he had just seen someone dying.

And oh, he remembered the anger his brother's eyes irradiated... but now? He was more like a kicked puppy.

He didn’t want to kill, didn’t want revenge.

Chuuya lost someone, that was certain.

But lost someone to what... lost someone to who?

These were Verlaine's thoughts as he glanced at Chuuya.

"Tea?"

Chuuya nodded as he watched the man pouring the liquid into the cup; he did the same for his cup and then looked at him gently.

"So... what brought you here, little brother?" he paused as he noticed the lack of reaction from Chuuya. "Don’t get me wrong, it’s always a delight to see you, Chuuya, but... you must have something in mind right now... don’t you?" he said, as he mixed the sugar with the tea with a spoon.

Chuuya didn’t react. He really felt like a robot.

Empty and dead. Behind his eyes, there was nothing but empty and plain loneliness.

Finally, he looked down as he sighed.

"I came to you... because you are the only one who can help me," he said.

Verlaine’s eyes lit up and stopped mixing the sugar with the spoon.

All those years he had wanted to hear those words. Strangely, it felt wrong, seeing his brother’s face. But...

"No one will ever be able to understand me." his eyes were like sharp knives. As an assassin, Verlaine had seen less brutal looks. Then, Chuuya’s tone briefly palled. "No one... no one but you... brother."

He diverted his attention to the cup as he used his spoon to mix nothing in particular.

Verlaine did the same, and a smile appeared on his lips.

It was a sad, kind smile. The type of kindness Verlaine had reserved for his two favorite people.

His brother and the only human he was never able to hate.

No matter how much he tried.

The metallic sound filled the air, giving it a certain melancholy. A sad scenario that would fill Verlaine’s artificial heart for a long time.

"Well, then." he said as he lifted his gaze toward his brother. Then he opened another smile. "How can I help you, dear brother?"

It felt surreal how two people, such as them, doomed to the endless darkness and solitude, could be able to have such a moment.

Two brothers speaking.

And there was something incredibly poignant about two doomed souls—brothers not by blood, but by circumstances—speaking.

Something tragically beautiful.

Slowly, Chuuya raised his head and looked inside Verlaine’s eyes—deeply and dripping with feelings.

They were not empty anymore.

The jewels shone. They were shining as a storm, as lightning would severely punish the stormy sky.

It was a painful beauty.

There were no tears, no sounds, just an upcoming storm like his little brother was.

Verlaine loved him more than anything.

He had learned to love the stormy sky more than the rain... Rimbaud... he hated cold weather...

Verlaine never really minded a little storm.

Especially when the storm was about his little brother.

Named Nakahara Chuuya, cursed by birth, tortured by life.

Unwanted by death.

If he was human, which Verlaine knew he wasn't, Chuuya had stopped feeling like that a long time ago.

He was... no longer human...

And there was something beautiful about that.

"You said people often lie to deceive and to foul other people, right?" Verlaine nodded slowly. Because he had never been one to lie.

At least not to the person in front of him.

"I did. Humans are not trustworthy creatures." Then he added with a sigh after a pause full of past. Full of his past. "Every human but Arthur." Every word carried a lingering strain. "He was... an incredible human being." His smile illustrated the intensive and burning adoration Verlaine felt for his deceased ex-partner.

His dear, dear friend.

His inspiration during days of solitude.

It had been so meaningful that Chuuya had to swallow. He didn't think about the fact he had just lost his partner.

Dead? Alive?

Chuuya didn’t know.

Chuuya didn’t care.

Yet, he felt a staining pain on his chest.

Even so, he proceeded, like he always did.

"You can't trust no one but your allies." he said, slowly, almost as if diligently tasting his words. "Your partner included, right?" his voice was now a bit higher, but still not too high. Still controlled.

To anyone, it’d probably have been nothing, but to Verlaine, it was the confirmation he needed.

He stopped drinking his tea, with a cautious expression.

He was not looking at Chuuya.

There was no need for that.

Verlaine stayed quiet for a while, but then he took a sip of it and lowered his hand with the cup. He pressed his lips together, pondering.

Finally, he said as he gently placed the cup on the little dish, "I see..." The sound reverberated in the air. "...So this is about that guy..." he sighed. "What was even his name?" He pretended to think, not giving Chuuya any chance to answer. "Ah, I remember... Dazai-kun... wasn't it?"

Chuuya saw how Verlaine's tone changed.

Then, silence filled the air.

He didn’t confirm nor deny it. He dodged the conversation he started like an agile warrior would dodge the blade of death.

Instead, he took a silent sip of his tea. The hot liquid slipped down his dry throat and lightly burned his lips.

Then he placed it on the small dish with a tired sound, with a sigh.

"You were right," he said. But Verlaine didn’t react as he blankly stared at his brother. Chuuya noticed it and he didn’t care. "You were right about thinking of the future and not the present." he ended up admitting as Verlaine watched him attentively.

It was not possible to see what the man was thinking. "What I have today might not exist tomorrow or... it... it might turn out to be a complete lie." He paused, and his tone was painfully silent and low.

He sighed tiredly, full of regret.

"I was a fool to think that something could last forever."

He looked down at his tea in the cup.

His faint reflection was shown.

He tried to see more there, a light, a smile, his friends, life... but there was nothing.

No hope on the tea.

No hope for a quiet and normal life.

His life was like that hot tea—burning and ephemeral.

It would eventually end.

And it was often so sour.

Sometimes, not even the sugar could help.

Chuuya wanted little biscuits with the tea.

That way it'd be more bearable.

"People come and go," after his meditation, Chuuya spoke. He paused a bit. "They do whatever they want, and they don’t give a fuck about the other’s feelings."

Verlaine looked at him with an apprehensive expression. His previous blank face melted.

"Humans... humans are, indeed, treacherous creatures," he said like it was obvious with his soft tone. His eyes were like the sea—blue and deep. "They can’t be trusted." he smiled and looked at Chuuya, placing his empty cup aside. "But I suppose this is nothing new... I told you this before, didn’t I?"

Hesitantly, Chuuya nodded. It was such a small reaction.

One could have easily missed it.

He looked like the child Verlaine met.

"You did." Solemnly, he agreed. "But I was too much of a fool... to hear it." Regret filled his words. "You were right."

Verlaine smiled a little with his eyes.

"I should not give in to my emotions, nor should I think about the people who don’t... give a damn about me and... my feelings... my emotions." And the tone was significantly sadder.

No, it was not exactly sadness, it almost looked... disappointed.

"I shouldn’t have given in."

He should have not.

Because now, it was too late to tell past Chuuya that.

Now, he would just have to live with it.

Verlaine stared at Chuuya silently for a while and then opened his mouth, placing his forearms on the table.

"You... you don’t seem very surprised," he commented. "Deep down, you knew one day... this... would happen, right?" He paused and then added softly, "You just didn’t want to think about that possibility, right?"

Oh.

Chuuya... Chuuya did know that.

Chuuya knew how far Dazai’s loyalty to the organization could go: it was not much.

But... that wouldn’t change what he was feeling.

And so, he looked away, away from his brother’s somehow curious gaze, a bit uncomfortable.

"I am... I am not surprised," he admitted painfully, and paused. "I have always known that bastard's loyalty was almost nonexistent and that... he was a selfish asshole." He paused after those words.

Because calling Dazai, his partner, that felt very real.

For the first time, he meant it.

Dazai was incredibly selfish and a disloyal person.

Those words didn’t feel like a source of anger or irritation like they usually did.

Now they just... hurt like freshly opened wounds.

His partner was a selfish asshole.

He was surprised how calmly he had said that. He was not even angry. It was almost... strange.

But then... Chuuya looked at Verlaine, who looked at him with slight curiosity and a cautious expression.

"But I trusted him."

And he did.

He trusted Dazai with his life.

Contrarily to the mafia’s popular belief, Chuuya knew Dazai would never, ever disappoint him.

After Verlaine and the fateful Dragon Head Conflict, Chuuya could have said that there was no one he'd trust more than Dazai.

Because... that’s what it meant to be a partner, right?

More than... a close person, Dazai was his partner.

They might never have had... something as pure and precious as a friendship... never have had a peaceful relationship... but...

Chuuya wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Now that Dazai was gone, Chuuya noticed that.

And so, he continued. 

"Dazai... I trusted my life to him and he... he was my partner. He was always someone that I knew I could rely on, no matter what." He paused as his eyes spoke what his mouth didn't. "And... I thought this meant something to him... at least... like it meant to me."

That was like a slap. It felt like one.

Verlaine stayed silent. His eyes were filled with memories from a distant past,

A past that Verlaine had not been aware of, and he could only dream how Arthur had felt when he betrayed him.

If it had been like Chuuya was... then... he didn't want to think about it.

So he stayed quiet. He had no word in the matter.

And Chuuya continued.

"But this was my fault," he said sternly "I didn’t think about the future and the possibility of someone... someone as dishonest as Dazai could leave the organization." He paused, merely to take a quiet sip of his tea. Then he said,"Without saying anything."

Verlaine simply looked at him.

That was all he did.

All he could do.

His brother was speaking, and he listened.

"And... and he probably even made fun of me." He laughed dryly, more dry than the Sahara Desert. "...leaving something behind to annoy me." He sighed, changing his tone, and it was the closest he could come to a cry. He proceeded like the warrior he was, with a decided tone. "So... after what happened... I decided to think further," he declared.

A pause.

"Because... I don’t want to think about what I’m doing at the moment. I don’t want people like... Dazai... to order me around like a sheepdog." His voice was intense and almost emotional.

Then he added quietly,"I want to be responsible for my own actions and thoughts."

After a while, looking at his barely emptied tea, Chuuya looked at his brother.

Verlaine saw a sixteen-year-old Chuuya there.

Aware of his demise.

Dazai Osamu was a human, and humans love excessively.

He wouldn't be the exception.

He knew too well that look when he glanced at Chuuya.

So, there was no way that he didn't care about him.

Still, he wouldn't say that to Chuuya, who seemed sure Dazai didn't "give a fuck" about him.

So, instead, he said,

"But you are right that you shouldn't expect anything from people," he said. "Chuuya... people will try to benefit from your weaknesses and use your feelings, that's... that's how humans are. I know it." He smiled bitterly. Rimbaud was not like that. And something told him Dazai was not like that... too. He continued calmly. "But sometimes... something, we should give the benefit of the doubt to people's actions..." Dazai-kun certainly had a choice to leave," he added.

Chuuya looked at Verlaine.

It was not a sharp look, but it was not kind either.

"Yes," he said, "And I certainly have the right to clean him from my life."

It was the answer. Verlaine only nodded. Because he had that right.

"You do," he agreed. "And you would probably be correct, because that guy doesn't seem like someone you can trust." That was a fact. "But..." he sighed, "You shouldn't expect anything good from people. You saw what your sheep friends did, right?"

Chuuya stiffened, not expecting that. Verlaine continued, "You saw how the Mafia has been treating you... manipulating you... didn't you?" Chuuya downed his glance. Verlaine smiled. "I have told you before, but... this world doesn't deserve you, little brother." He paused. "You shouldn't give your all and your life to them: you have no guarantee that they will do the same for you."

There was no answer.

Because they both knew the outcome.

"About thinking further..." he sighed. "Well... you can't escape your fate and your existence, Chuuya." He leaned back a bit. "When you were sixteen... I gave you a way out, remember?"

Chuuya didn't answer.

"-and you refused it," he smiled, closing his eyes. "And I understand why, but now you have to accept the cruel consequences and the wickedness of this world." His voice was, for the first time, firm and authoritarian; then he softened it and his eyes too. "I am here for you, whenever you need."

With this, Chuuya was silent.

He didn't have any answer.

Even if he wanted to deny it... it was all true...

He remembered Verlaine's words like they were yesterday's, including the speech about destiny and his fate.

And none of them were pleasant nor tranquil.

He ignored it for years, but now... it seemed to be the time to face reality.

And so Verlaine spoke. "The first step in life is to accept your fate," he explained quietly; he sighed. "Chuuya... there... there is no happy ending for people like us." His voice had that lingering poetic tone, like a ballad. Ballad of death. "Our existence was meant to bring chaos and destruction. When it comes to anything else, we are unqualified for it," he said with an apprehensive tone. "Why do you think you are unable to keep a stable relationship?"

Silence.

"Because you are not suitable for that. Sure, you can temporarily enjoy that feeling, but deep down... you know... you know it won't last..." He shifted his glance. "Am I not right?" he asked rhetorically. "You knew it would happen with Dazai as well. Like you told me: you ignored the future." His tone was like a solo of a sad violin.

It went straight to his heart.

Chuuya simply pressed his lips together, seeming to restrain his crying or something else.

"Chuuya... little brother... you know... you know I am right, correct?" He smiled. "You are in the mafia, but for what? What are you doing here? Why... why did you stay? You might have a lot of reasons, but... what makes you stay here? What is it?"

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he said. "It's a place to stay, a place to live."

Verlaine was silent. Chuuya sighed, shifting in his seat.

"Besides, what can I do if I leave the Mafia? Nothing. No choice. I have no choice here, Verlaine." A cold tone. "I never had."

And it was true. But that didn't make it any less painful.

His brother smiled.

"It's too late, isn't it?" he said. "You now understand why I said you should never have been born, don't you?" Chuuya raised his head, and his eyes were slightly reflecting.

Verlaine sighed.

"Unfortunately, this was the life people... they gave us," he said, almost wistfully. "Ah, them... We can't defeat nor fight it."

Silence filled the air.

"Like a storm," almost like a poem, Verlaine said. "Fate... the end is like a storm." He smiled, almost kindly. "We don't know when it will happen, but we do know for a fact that it will happen."

Chuuya looked at him. "You remember the storm, don't you? You can't fight it." Then he added, "You can't win it."

Chuuya, who had been silent, finally spoke.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?! To kill myself like that bastard wants to?" He paused a bit. "To lock myself away from everything and everyone like you do? To be a cold murderer like half of the Mafia is? Tell me, Verlaine, what should I do?"

He was not screaming; he was not angry. Verlaine was not his target. It wouldn't be fair shouting at him. So he sighed.

"I don't know what to do. I know what the future awaits me, but... I don't know what I should do at the moment," he calmly placed a hand on the table. "I asked you because..." He sighed. "Because I thought you would understand me."

But all Verlaine could offer was a smile. Useless as it was.

"I do, Chuuya, I really do."

"But you can't do anything to help me," he said as a fact.

He knew that.

They both knew.

"That's right. I can't do anything," Verlaine calmly agreed with a nod.

"Should I just... give in and..." he realized he had stood up with the storm of emotions, despite his voice being calm, and sat down with a sigh. "...be what people expect me to be? The executive the mafia wants?"

It took a while until Verlaine's answer.

"It's your choice, little brother. All I can say is that everything you have today is temporary." A kind smile. "The storm is certain, but you don't know when it will happen. So you won't be able to pack your life before it breaks in. It will just..." He stopped.

Although it had not been clear, Chuuya had understood it. The storm... was a storm. There was nothing else left to do.

He pressed his lips together and then sighed. A bitter smile appeared.

"Bah, I should have known you would only make things worse," he said a bit disappointed.

"Nonsense." Verlaine shook his head. "I am not the one making everything worse. Reality is... Life is... It's not something I can control." He looked at him very seriously. "Only you can. If you want to end your journey, do it. But if you want to live in this illusion, temporary and dishonest as it is... you are welcome to do it as well."

Chuuya narrowed his eyes.

"I am not locked up here like you are, Verlaine." He paused. "You keep speaking as if I had any choice here." He paused again. "Which I don't." He sighed. "Between seeing my friends dying and seeing myself under the mafia's claws, I prefer a hundred times the latter," he said.

Verlaine looked at him.

"You did choose your cage, dear brother."

"I did," he said, because... he did. "I did for the sheep and... now I have a job to accomplish and expectations to reach..."

His brother cautiously watched him.

"Even back then, it's never my choice."

That's why he should have never been born. It was his punishment for his existence. Verlaine was certain Chuuya knew that, but refused to accept it.

"I see..." he said. "Someone showed you... must have delivered you the sweet illusion of free will..."

Been there once and it's not pretty, he thought. Arthur's words. He wondered if Dazai had been that person for Chuuya.

But his brother looked utterly decisive.

"Whatever you are thinking—don't," he said sharply. Then his tone changed. "I am staying here because I have no choice and... and... and it's not so bad." Finally, he stood up, his face devoid of emotions. "I'll just have to clean that bastard from my mind and memories. And everything will be fine." He smiled once again, without emotions.

Ah, so it was like this... Chuuya... lost his last... and only hope...

Oh, Verlaine... he was quite acquainted with that.

And because of it, he smiled understandingly.

Chuuya was still looking at him, probably expecting something from his older brother. Smiling, finally Verlaine said, "Is that so?" He paused, opening his smile further. "Then... I wish you the best, little brother," he said, with genuine honesty. "You know I am always here to talk."

Chuuya, already on his feet, looked at him almost with an ironic expression. His brother's dramatic words had always made him unironically annoyed.

"Sure," he said. "I am certain, you won't go anywhere." He turned on his heels and sighed. "Because it's so hard to find someone down here, right?" He laughed a bit and started to walk away.

However, one last piece of advice was left.

"Chuuya."

The new executive stopped walking uneasily. Then Verlaine said, "Don't trust people, nor expect something from them." He paused. "If you expect the worst from people, whatever they do will never disappoint you."

Silence filled the air, and Chuuya's breath was audible. His expectations were low enough, at least he thought that, but... apparently, he still expected a hint of empathy and understanding from his partner—no, ex-partner.

Ah... Verlaine... Pau Verlaine...

How his brother was right...

But despite that, Chuuya still laughed a little. It was almost as artificial as Verlaine's soul.

"Well, at least a good piece of advice from my older brother!" He waved a hand in disdain. "I’m not expecting anyone to carry me home or something, so don’t worry." Then he stopped talking, stopped walking. The sound of his shoe hitting the ground reverberated.

Verlaine waited for his brother's last words.

"Don’t worry," Chuuya said. After some time, he looked over his shoulder. "How can I expect something I don’t know what it is?" He paused, smiling bitterly. "You and I, more than anyone, know what—how this is, right?" His eyes were dark.

People say the eyes are the reflection of the soul.

"It has always been like this," Chuuya added, before looking ahead and walking toward the stairs to leave. Due to this, he was not able to hear Verlaine’s equally bitter laugh.

On that very same day, Chuuya thought through Verlaine’s words and radical advice. They hit his head like hammers. But it didn’t hurt. Not anymore. It just... left him... strangely... aware of himself.

That night, he sat down at the wooden table in his house with a wine bottle in front of him. It was a Petrus 89. It had been a present from a client, and Chuuya had saved it for an eventual celebration.

Usually, he never drank alone. He was always accompanied by people, with nights filled with laughs, smiles, and jokes...

Chuuya never drank alone, but... seeing how late it was... no one would likely have wanted to drink with him, and... he didn’t really want to see anyone.

Not that day.

He found himself lost in his brother’s words about Dazai, about his life... And it was all so true and genuine that it made him sick.

He just wanted to forget everything he had been told. Too much, too much, too much for him—too much, way too much. Truth or a lie, it had stung his chest.

And perhaps as his only choice and without any hesitation, he grabbed the bottle in front of him. He opened it and pressed his lips against the bottleneck. It felt more like a medication.

Alcohol cured pain, right?

Just for a second, he thought about... stopping it.

But he didn’t... pull back, tilting the bottle to make gravity run the wine straight to his throat.

It was not meant to taste the wine—which was a shame, really, considering its quality—but to drink. He drank just for the sake of drinking. For the first time.

And... he was aware of it... or... half of the bottle. After that, Chuuya was not responsible for what happened. Nor aware of what he had felt.

He did remember that the wine’s taste was bitter, as it was accompanied by such acid thoughts. Verlaine’s words... his past... his future... his present... Dazai’s departure...

His heart was pounding heavily in his chest. And then, he blacked out.

The night was over for Chuuya.

But in the morning, when he woke up, he had his head on the table and a terrible headache. As he lifted his torso, his eyes noticed small spots that were drawn on the table’s towel.

Chuuya assumed those were wine drops. (and not regretful tears)

And so, from that day on, Nakahara Chuuya and everyone forgot about Dazai Osamu and his betrayal.

Just like Chuuya had told Verlaine, he'd surround himself with work, guaranteeing that his life would gain some value.

And, in fact, it did.

The compliments, the fame, and even the jealousy gave some color to his life... but only for a while.

It had been something, although it was meant to not last forever.

In the end, Chuuya would find himself alone, at a desk, his schedule filled with meetings, his boss frequently relying on him, papers, pencils, people...

And in the beginning, it felt right, until... he felt that inevitable and pungent loneliness.

He'd remind himself countless times of his brother's words:

"Nothing lasts forever, and everything is temporary. Don't get too close to people, you will never know when they will stab you from the back."

...

Silently, he wondered if this was how Dazai felt before leaving... more like a weapon, a mafia asset than a human being.

No longer human.

Ah, even away, Dazai occupied his thoughts.

It was almost... it almost made Chuuya miss him... to miss him more... miss him more than the hatred he felt for him.

"You are a kid too,"

Fifteen-year-old Dazai had said, eyes more dead than a fish's. Chuuya could remember it.

"I am not just any child,"

Back then, Chuuya had said.

But back then, fifteen-year-old Chuuya took pride in what he did. He would kill a bunch of people as long as he'd use his fists—his feet.

Now?

Now Chuuya didn't take any pride... not when the person he wished to defeat was no longer there.

Now that Dazai had left the organization, he had no need for that.

Now it was just... boring. It was almost as when he was the sheep leader, but back then... back then Chuuya hadn't met Dazai.

Now, he knew Dazai... now that he finally got his former partner, he could say he didn't want to see him ever again.

Chuuya knew it wouldn't be a peaceful reunion... if possible, he'd like to avoid that.

...

Maybe Verlaine was right.

Maybe Dazai had been responsible for delivering the illusion of having a choice...

Because now, Chuuya noticed how different his life was... without him...

He didn't think often about Dazai. He had not lied when he said he was dead to him, but... sometimes... when he looked at Dazai's former apprentice...

He'd find himself lost in memories.

And once he found it, he never wanted to let go.

He once wondered if this was how Rimbaud had felt when he found Chuuya.

If his words had been to Verlaine and not to Chuuya.

Because... Chuuya felt similarly. Once, he told Akutagawa something he'd liked to tell Dazai:

"If you can't find something worth living for... find a reason worth dying for."

The boy's eyes had shown a hint of surprise.

Chuuya wondered if Akutagawa knew to what person those words had been tailored for.

After all, fifteen-year-old Chuuya did know ... but he didn't care.

He hadn't care if Rimbaud's words had been for Verlaine and not for Chuuya.

It hit him all the same.

And he remembered Arthur Rimbaud's words like it had been yesterday's.

"Chuuya-kun, can I ask you a favor? Live. There is no longer… any way of knowing… who you are or where you came from... But even if… you are but a pattern… etched on the surface of raw power… you are you. Nothing changes that… because all people, all humanity… their brains and flesh… are nothing more than patterns—beautiful patterns… upon the material world..."

Rimbaud died in peace with his friend.

Chuuya really wished he could mourn Dazai like Rimbaud did to Verlaine...

But... how could he possibly mourn something that never ended?

He could mourn the beginning, the day he met Dazai, the moment he trusted him but...

Chuuya had always done what he wished and... he didn't regret meeting... Dazai... or trusting him...

When his car was burned, turned into flames in front of his eyes... it didn't feel like the end.

He didn't feel angry or irritated... well, sort of a bit annoyed, but...

What predominated was... something close to disappointment because... their relationship had never died.

It had been buried alive, without even ending.

And because of it... it hurt when he first heard from Kouyou.

So...

"The only way to stop the suffering is to never be born."

Perhaps... then... he should grieve the day he met Dazai.

Maybe that's what he'd mourn about.

Yes, he'd bury the past, live the present, and think about the future.

And so, Nakahara Chuuya lied to Verlaine when he said he had always done what he wanted, no regrets.

He even lied to himself.

Because, there was one thing he regretted in his life.

And he knew it.

Chuuya was not sorry for the poor end of their relationship, no.

He didn't regret trusting Dazai, either.

He didn't regret being his partner.

He didn't regret their hangouts.

He didn't regret any of those.

No.

However, one thing he felt terribly sorry for.

The day he met Dazai.

It had been his biggest and only regret.

Nakahara Chuuya had always done what he wanted, he never had regrets.

Yet, he regretted the day he looked at Dazai.

And that, he felt sorry about.

Terribly so.

[nextinline-if]

I don't know if you're still answering asks or anything but going through some of the asks has me thinking of so many questions lol these are all from the perspective of ex-lover F

how would F react with hurt MC confronting them with "I'm not just going to be your second choice! I deserve better than that. You left me for someone else, I honestly doubt you ever even loved me." before storming of with tears rolling down their face and I guess maybe F realizing they might have completely fucked everything up with MC?

Also does F consider how much bringing up their spouse in front of MC hurts MC and makes it feel like they got left behind for someone else?

And oh man knowing F slept with Lucille is kinda like a gut punch oof, When playing the game I assumed they married as friends and with F having feelings for MC that meant they didn't have sex but it being confirmed on here is like daaaaaamn like F you didn't just break my heart you fucking destroyed it, What are Fs' feelings on this matter if this is how MC felt? (especially it being it hurt the MC cause they ran off and slept with someone else while the MC loved them like MC is not bothered by anyone else's body count cause you know they weren't in love with them and didn't have shared feelings, its more the betrayal of trust causing this hurt. Like if F had given a proper goodbye and a proper rejection of MC feelings/breakup it wouldn't be as painful for MC, I guess my main point still being is how does F feel about an MC hurt they slept with Lucille?)

and I wanted to ask is if Percival was still around and since he was the one who invited Felix and F back how would he feel seeing at how hurt the MC is to the return of F or just seeing the MC even more heartbroken being around F?

oh one more angst question that applies personally to my MC and F, I play as Trans man MC who is exes with Fredrick just a scenario of my MC with his head down asking Fredrick "Is it because of how I am.......is that why you had to find someone else?" (I'm a trans man so I love getting to play characters true to me so thank you)

Sorry for the ramble lol I hope this ask wasn't too much or weird, I don't think I have ever sent an ask this long before to anyone lol but your IF is very fun and inspiring so thank you! ಥ_ಥ

hi anonymous! I have been on here in a while so I no clue when you sent this I'm sorry about that :) I didn't answer everything but hopefully this is sufficient.

how would F react with hurt MC confronting them with "I'm not just going to be your second choice! I deserve better than that. You left me for someone else, I honestly doubt you ever even loved me." before storming of with tears rolling down their face and I guess maybe F realizing they might have completely fucked everything up with MC?

F is frozen in place, their throat caught in their throat. Not from the shock of your words but from the shock of realizing just how badly they fucked up. From realizing that the little sliver of hope that was blossoming in their bosom may very well be snuffed out.

I guess my main point still being is how does F feel about an MC hurt they slept with Lucille?

This is complicated to answer, to be honest. I've answered A LOT of asks on this blog so it's been quite a while since I stated this but F slept with Lucille and did not enjoy it and really only did it for "duty". F would absolutely understand why MC would be hurt by them sleeping with Lucille but they know that they can't go back and fix that (or the other mistakes).

and I wanted to ask is if Percival was still around and since he was the one who invited Felix and F back how would he feel seeing at how hurt the MC is to the return of F or just seeing the MC even more heartbroken being around F?

If Percival were still around, he would be upset that MC is suffering. However, the fatherly & kingly part of him that carries wisdom would tell MC how important it is to face the things that break us with courage. MC deserves closure of some kind. That may be moving forward with F. It may not be. Percival would support MC but also encourage them to face their demons.

oh one more angst question that applies personally to my MC and F, I play as Trans man MC who is exes with Fredrick just a scenario of my MC with his head down asking Fredrick "Is it because of how I am.......is that why you had to find someone else?" (I'm a trans man so I love getting to play characters true to me so thank you)

I can only imagine the gut punch for your MC!

F falls to their knees, your hand in theirs, their eyes searching yours. "I'm an idiot, MC," they whisper, their voice soft and broken, haggard F places a tentative and soft kiss on your hand, "Let me spend every day showing you that my leaving has to do with how stupid I am and not because of you. Never because of you," F begs softly, gazing up at you.

Sorry for the ramble lol I hope this ask wasn't too much or weird, I don't think I have ever sent an ask this long before to anyone lol but your IF is very fun and inspiring so thank you! ಥ_ಥ

Please don't apologize. Your ask meant so much to me. And you playing my IF means so much to me. Thank you!

-Vi

[impudentmedico]

Alex was at the point in his life where he just let things go. Izzie ruined a lot for him in terms of just wanting someone and trusting someone. She had ruined a lot of things and that is when Alex took his job more seriously and that is when he started to not catch feelings and just sleep with anyone who would give him a chance. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do because then it led to him having a reputation and that is something Jo really thought who he was. But it wasn't. He just was masking up a lot of pain and hurt by someone who claimed to love him. But things changed and they developed a friendship first, because come to found out, Jo and him had a lot in common. Something he didn't think anyone else would understand.

But they have formed a good bond. Love held them together, even when the world was meant to tear them apart. But he panicked and left. Alex knew what Jo would think once this happened. He knew that he messed up all those years of them fighting people to let them know they were there for the long haul. Maybe he did things wrong, and maybe leaving her the way he did was wrong, but he regrets it all, because he had it good with her. This life he has now, it wasn't anything he wanted and it wasn't anything he thought he could keep up. Yes, he has kids. Kids he never knew about until he got the letter and they are already big enough to tell him yes or no. And hearing from Jo, well that did it too. He missed her and he knew all of this was on him and he that is something he has to deal with.

But this unexpected text and Jo and him have talked. He knew she was trying to hide the fact she wanted to cry and there was a tone of unsaid words between them when text were sent and received. That is how well he knows her. That is all it was and that is something he had learned to read. But Alex was determined not to be his father. The one who abandons his kid and not make it known he is trying. This was him trying but he wanted Jo apart of the picture and not just him with Izzie. That is not what he wanted. But he had to quickly reply, because he needed to tell her everything because he knows she won't trust him.

[Text: Jo]

"It is not like it was an easy decision Jo. I panicked. I didn't want to be considered like my dad. Because you know how much I hate that man. I didn't want to abandon my kids, even after I knew about them. I do love you. I have been sitting here thinking about you, and you were the first one i wrote a letter to, then Mer. So it was just something I have been trying to come to terms with because she hid this for so long. I am not with her though. We are just co-parents and I sleep in another room, so please just let me be there, send me the address and I will be on the next flight out. Just, please, let me be there. I can not deal with the fact you didn't want to hid this from me and then not want me there. So, if Arizona is mad at me, I will find a place close and meet you at the hospital. Just give me the name of the hospital as well. I am looking at flights as we speak."

He could tell Jo was mad from hers and he kept his cool as he hit send and opened up his laptop and looked at the flights from Kansas to New York to see Jo and hopefully they can work this out because they are having a kid and he rather be with her and his twins come and visit then not with her and being stuck in a place he is not happy in. He just needed to let her get over being mad at him. Seeing the address he jotted it down in his notes on his phone and texted Jo again.

[Text: Jo]

"Thank you for the address, I will see you tomorrow. Get some sleep please. You need to rest. I am sure Arizona will insist on doing everything for you. it is just who Robbins is. Let her."

Starting Again

@ImpudentMedico 

Complicated was the word when it came to Alex and herself. From barely speaking; from the rage of hate she felt for him. To the common goal; which was to raise a healthy child. To push aside our distaste for each other; well more so on my part. Jo knew she could’ve had it easy by not engaging by avoiding Alex especially when they first messaged after a month of him being gone. She could’ve gotten through the pregnancy on her own. She was built for it; to be alone. But one confession; one text changed the relationship she had with him. 

He was the dad; and as angry as she was with him; She didn’t want to be like Izzie; she didn’t want to keep a child from him. She still loved him; she wanted him to be apart of their child’s life even if it made her sick to see the pair had ended up. All that to say it wasn’t smooth sailing; but Jo had promised to keep him updated. To let him be there for her and their child. 

A promise she intended to keep. And that’s why Jo found herself digging into her purse when she stepped foot into the New York airport.  Stepping to the side as she listened to people chat, she found her phone letting fingers dance along the keys. 

[ Text} Alex. 

“ I debated telling you, but a promise is a promise. I’m in New York. I’ll be staying with Callie and Arizona so you know I’ll be safe.”  Not wanting to keep talking; Jo came to the city to move on from the last chapter not be dragged back into the old. But Jo also knew they had to figure out the next steps together. One text at a time. Because let’s be honest he left once; why wouldn’t Alex do it again? It was a fear; the reason why Jo was keeping him at arms length. Protecting herself. 

Slipping her phone into her coat pocket she slung her carry on over her shoulder and began to walk to the baggage claim; the signs directing her. A new Chapter; exhaling deeply Jo assured herself this was the right move for her.

[winryrockbellwannabe]

this guy is honestly making me question too much shit

bc there's no way in hell is just that nice, right?

at this point either: 1. he's being this nice and kind bc he has a crush on me, 2. he's honestly that nice, which will make me have a crush on him, bc omg. he's just the nicest person ever

[player1064]

Prompt from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/xtsukinoax/673521724855402496/it-cant-be-better?source=share

DO WHAT YOU WILL if you choose <3

SO obsessed with this tweet I can't stop thinking about it like why did he say that. why did he say that. SCREAMS.

thanks for the prompt!! here's 933 words of just. fluff.

---

“I honestly don’t understand how yous’ve made it this far in life, Gary, look at the state of you.”

Gary blinks a few times, unsteady on his feet, as he takes a second to process what Jamie’s saying.

“I’m fine, Carra. ‘s been a busy couple’a weeks, is all. It’ll slow down again soon.”

“You’ve been havin’ a busy couple of weeks for the last ten year! How many times’ve you gotta be told to slow down before you actually listen?”

Another pause.

“Jamie. I’m fine. Look, I jus’ need – I just need t’go home, have some dinner, get me eight hours. I’ll see you in the mornin’, yeah?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m not lettin’ you get behind the wheel when you’re like this.”

“So, what, yer gonna drive me home? Bit of a detour, that.”

It’d be a lot of a detour, considering they’ve just finished covering a match at Anfield. Jamie’s half an hour away from comfy clothes and a pizza delivery, it’d be a shame to have to drive all the way to and from Manchester and delay it.

Only one thing for it, then.

“You’re comin’ home with me.”

After the second’s delay for Gary to process again, he scoffs. “Am I fuck.”

Somewhere, buried very far in the back of Jamie’s mind, a little voice is reminding him that Gary is a multi-millionaire and could afford the cab fare home. He ignores it and steers Gary towards his car instead.

The drive to Jamie’s house is done in near silence, the radio volume turned low because Jamie knows when he’s this tired any extra noise’ll just give Gary a headache. When they get in, he leaves the overhead lights off and turns a lamp on instead, then leaves Gary on the sofa while he wanders off to order the pizzas and to get changed.

He’s pulling on his tracksuit when he realises Gary’s still stuck in his work clothes, which just doesn’t make any sense if Jamie’s insisting he stay the night, so he digs around for some things that might fit him and carries them back downstairs, stopping to grab the duvet off his bed as he goes.

“Pizza’ll be here in ten,” he says as he enters the living room. He drops the change of clothes onto Gary’s lap. “Here, there’s a bathroom down the hall you can get dressed in.”

Gary blinks, looks at the clothes in confusion, then looks at the duvet that Jamie’s unceremoniously dropped onto the empty side of the couch.

“Y’re bein’ weird, James,” he says, but gets up and wanders off down the hall without complaint.

When he comes back, Jamie pats the sofa cushion beside him and asks “what channel d’you want TV on?”

“Ugh. Anything but football.”

Jamie scrolls through the channel guide for all of ten seconds before deciding that a) it’s only background noise, so he doesn’t actually care what they watch, and b) he’s got the perfect opportunity to be very, very annoying.

“Sex and the City it is, then. What’s it say… season four, episode twelve. You seen this one?”

Jamie’s never seen an episode of the show in his life, and, judging by the glare Gary shoots him, he hasn’t either. Well. First time for everything!

The pizza arrives, and they eat in front of the TV, Jamie ‘hmm’ing and ‘ahh’ing at all of Gary’s annoyed comments about the show.

“Who’s this now?” (“I don’t know, Gaz, it’s my first time watchin’ it too.”)

“D’you ever find American accents quite tricky to understand?” (“I think you’re probably just tired. You’re understandin’ me just fine.”) (“Been stuck tryn’ta understand your Scouse mutterin’ for last ten year, would hope I’ve got the hang of it by now.”)

“Oh! Y’didn’t tell me there’d be sex in this and all!” (“It’s literally called Sex and the City you twat.”)

The duvet remains draped menacingly over the back of the couch until Jamie comes back from putting the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen, at which point he sits back down, ever so slightly closer to Gary this time (though not close enough to spook him), and pulls it onto his lap.

Gary looks at him, spooked.

Christ, but he’s hard work sometimes. Jamie figures the best thing to do is pretend like this is perfectly normal, just two grown men sharing a duvet, so he spreads it out to cover both of them.

Gary still looks spooked, sitting there rigidly upright with wide eyes fixed unblinkingly on the TV. Jamie shuffles closer to him. Throws an arm over the back of the couch, no part of him making contact with Gary but still very much… there.

Slowly, slowly, Gary leans back.

By the next ad break, he’s asleep, his head lolled forwards, chin resting on his chest. Jamie pulls the duvet up higher around him and turns the TV volume down.

By the ad break after that, Gary’s slumped further into the couch, and if Jamie shifts just an inch or so – their sides would be pressed together. Gary doesn’t stir. Jamie lets his arm drop to his shoulders. Still nothing.

Gary’s warm, his weight solid at Jamie’s side. Jamie shuts his eyes, just for a second.

When he opens them again, it’s still dark out but the TV’s gone into standby and his watch tells him it’s still too early an hour to really be called morning.

There’s also a Manc drooling into his chest, one arm draped across his waist.

There are worse places to be, Jamie thinks, and lets himself drift back to sleep.

[jocelynships]

Oh. Thats a friend group of mine making a whole ass new group chat without me in it. Okay cool. Love that.

[thursdayg1rl]

one of the dramas from the wedding was one of the grooms cousins (on the other side not mine) just not wearing the clothes we had made for her specifically

[girlivealwaysbean]

jealousy is such an ugly emotion but oh my god am i filled with it

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 3

In which you and Max spend the next six months just being obsessed with each other.

Warnings: A little angst, but not 'break up with you' angst, just 'i really fucking miss you' angst so it's okay. And fluff. Tooth achingly sweet fluff. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 4.4k plus a shit ton of social media posts. - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - Master List

(a/n before we begin: Probably one more part to this. Thinking of doing an 'after Max gets you back to the hotel post-race' part to wrap things up nicely if anyone wants to see that.)

Monaco May 2024

F1GossipOfficial posted

34,028 likes F1GossipOfficial Seems as if our favorite Red Bull driver and sunny little podcaster are getting closer! The pair was spotted around Monaco this week ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix. The pair have been seen publicly a handful of times since Max made an appearance on her podcast The Yapping Hour in late April, most notably at the Miami Grand Prix at the beginning of the month and then the week later in New York City where she is based. Everyone who sent in photos said the pair were super cozy and seemed lost in their own world. user0299 she's only with him for the clout and money. Her little podcast was dying out and she latched onto Max like a leech. >>>user5572 go touch some grass my man. Her podcast is consistently the number 1 listened to show on all platforms all the fucking time. user9938 they are so cute, i can't handle it user4530 I saw them at dinner the other night and oh my GOD. They sat on the same side of the table even though it was just the two of them. He held her hand underneath the table all through dinner and I don't think either of them stopped smiling or looked anywhere else but at each other the entire night. >>>user39948 they are so fucking perfect oml

Canada June 2024 yourpersonalinsta posted

493,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, totowolff, and others yourpersonalinsta Over the moon to have been able to be with you for this win in Canada, Maxie. user299 MAXIE?! I have no one to talk to about this redbullracing our good luck charm strikes again! >>>user456 Red Bull calling her theirs??? Love this for her. maxverstsppen1 thank you for always being in my corner liefje ❤️ >>>user394 how am i supposed to be normal after reading this??? user8827 Not Toto in the likes trying to get on her good side so Max signs with Merc in 2026 >>>user778 HAHA can you imagine??

Amalfi Coast August 2024

maxverstappen1 posted

987,409 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1 summer break with this gorgeous girl user458 they are my royal couple yourpersonalinsta wishing we were back on that boat rn instead of on different continents :( >>>maxverstappen1 just a few more weeks until Singapore, schatje. >>>user4938 this is my roman empire >>>user024 mom and dad are sad so i am sad too

October 2024 Austin, Texas

You hadn't seen Max in over three weeks. Three very, very, very long weeks. And not to be dramatic or anything but you felt like you might actually pass away if the Uber that was currently picking it's way through very heavy Austin traffic drove any slower.

While the sleek Mercedes SUV waited at a red light, your gaze drifted away from the navigation system showing the the heavy traffic all around you towards the busy city streets around you. Whoever had decided to schedule an Eminem concert, a huge college rivalry football game, and a Formula 1 race all in the same city on the same weekend should have their head examined.

Fixated on the crowd on the sidewalk outside, you mull over the last six months of your life. It has certainly been a whirlwind, that was for sure. If someone had told you back in the beginning of May that you'd be on your way to your sixth Grand Prix of the year to watch your boyfriend race in Formula 1, you would have laughed in their faces. Because really, when you sat back and considered it, the fact that you had gone from being a fan of the sport and interviewing Max on a professional level to dating him in under six months was absolutely wild.

While you attended races whenever you could, you found yourself more often than not called to the other side of the world to attend to your flourishing career. In the last six months you had ping ponged around the globe, bouncing between weekends with Max and over scheduled weeks filled with work, interviews, and meetings. Some days you just wished that things were simpler and you could just dedicate yourself to following Max around from city to city but you knew that Susan B Anthony would roll over in her grave if you gave up everything for a man so quickly, even a man as amazing as Max Verstappen.

You brush aside the thought of leaving your work because in the end, all that is is a simple fantasy brought on by you missing the man that has become the center of your universe lately.

After attending the Singapore GP with Max, you had spent a few extra days with him in Asia before needing to fly home. While Max did have nearly an entire month break from racing, he couldn't follow you to New York like he had intended. After coming back from the summer break, Max's luck had started to slip and the car had deteriorated. He hadn't won a race in months, the car was an absolute tractor, and Lando was gaining on him in the Championship. He had needed to spend every extra moment he had in the sims and with the engineering team trying to salvage the season.

While Max had been in Europe, you had been in the US recording episodes with Heidi Klum, Wayne Gretzky, and finally Kylie Kelce. Heidi had been in LA, Wayne in Florida, and Kylie in Philly so you had spent most of the last three weeks on the road. As the SUV inched closer to the COTA track, you realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd set foot in your apartment.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the realization washes over you. You loved the life you lived, wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes, in these quiet moments you wished for a break, a chance to go home, wherever that even was now, and just rest.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulls you back to the present. Ysou struggle to shake off the mind numbing melancholy that's settled over you like a thick woolen blanket before answering the call. "Hi baby." You sigh, knowing who it is without even looking at the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Max's voice is sharp on the other end, effortlessly reading your tone.

You shake your head, chest tightening with anxiety. "Just..." You search for the right words. "tired is all. I just realized I can't even remember the last time I spent a night in my own bed."

"Oh, schatje." Max sighs, knowing how grueling this schedule is as he lives it as well. "Do you want me to have the jet take you home? It's at the airfield still."

Tears collect in your eyes as your chest squeezes painfully. "No, I just want to see you." You whisper, afraid if you raise your voice you'll start to cry.

"How far are you from the track?"

You pop your head around the SUV's headrest to check the nav system. "Not long. Five minutes. I can see the giant observation tower from here."

"Have the Uber bring you right to the paddock gates. I have a car here and a few hours before any media duties. I'll take you back to the hotel myself and we can take a nap together, okay?"

Your entire body sags with relief at his words. If there was one thing that Max was good at, it was taking care of you. He didn't hem and haw or waver on a plan of action. He saw what you needed and made sure that you were taken care of. The way the burden of everything that you had silently carried for years shifted towards Max the moment you landed in Miami all those months ago was something that would shock you for years to come.

"Okay." You whisper, swiping at a single tear that managed to escape.

You have a few moments to collect yourself before the Uber stops at the entrance to the paddock. From your seat in the back, you spot a familiar blonde head that belonged to your Dutch boyfriend waiting for you. You're suddenly simultaneously bursting with excitement and beside yourself with grief as the anxiety that has gnawed at you over the last 24 hours fully consumes you at the mere sight of Max.

Max has you out of the car and into his arms before you can barely catch your breath. The moment you inhale that uniquely Max scent something inside you shifts and becomes crystal clear. You didn't need Max to have his jet take you home because you already were home. It sounded cliche in your head and it probably was, but you knew there was some truth to it: somewhere over the last six months your home had shifted away from your apartment in New York to wherever Max was.

Max tightens his grip around your waist, settling his chin on your head while you stay buried deep in his neck, you realize that home isn't a place any longer. Home is a person now and Max is that person. You don't have to go home to New York to rest, you just have to be in Max's presence. With him, you are utterly and completely safe and secure. For someone who spends 99% of her time 'on' and performing, being able to come home to Max and just switch it all off, allowing him to lead and take over, is the most powerful form of rest you could have ever dreamt of.

Max nods at the driver as he unloads your luggage, arms still locked tight around you. He can feel you melt into him, like you've been waiting for this moment since the last time you saw him. He knows that for him at least, this is true. Everything else in his life is completley falling apart. The car sucks, they had to ditch the special livery for this weekend becuase the fucking paint had the potential to make the car too heavy and slow. Lando has been on a tear lately, that McLaren a complete rocket ship and the only reason Lando hasn't overtaken him in the championship is thanks to some spectacularly shitty calls from the McLaren pit wall.

The only bright spot in Max's day is you. Your voice, your touch, your face. Any bit of you he gets on a daily basis is what keeps him going right now. As he had stood on the curb just moments before, desperately and not so patiently waiting while watching the black Mercedes SUV creep down the street towards him, it had felt like cruel and unusual punishment after being apart from you for so long.

And now? Now you were back in his arms and he drew in the longest breath he could, taking in the scent of your perfume and laundry soap that he had missed so keenly while he'd been working, and he simply couldn't get enough.

Max pulls away slightly, so he can see your pretty face but what he sees in your eyes nearly breaks him. Pain and longing hang heavy in your eyes and there is nothing Max wouldn't do to make all of that go away for you. Fingers tip your chin up towards him so he can finally get his lips on yours, a soft sigh escaping your mouth when he makes that first contact.

You swear it's like a cool drink of water in the middle of a humid heatwave in July, the way Max kisses you with such relief and passion and affection. Like he's trying to tell you through his kiss how much he adores you, how much he's missed you, how much he craves you.

"I love you." Are the first words he says to you and your breath catches in your throat. It isn't the first time he's said those words, Max had said them first all those months back when he brought you home to Monaco. It had been quick, probably too quick by the world's standards, but it just clicked between the two of you and the words had tumbled out of Max like it was the most natural thing in the world. The reason the words had your breath catching in your chest was because of the ferocity behind them, like he could tell how bone tired you were from all the travel over the last few months and he was desperate to remind you why you were doing all of this. Why the two of you were doing all of this together and apart. It was for moments like this, moments where you were attached to each other in the middle of the busy paddock parking lot like no one else existed.

"I love you too, Max." You whisper, dusting your lips over the stubble that was scattered over his jaw. "Can we go take a nap now? I'm so tired."

yourpersonalinsta posted

348,209 likes liked by kyliekelce, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta home is wherever you are (tagged: maxverstappen1) user098 mad max is no more, there is only soft cuddly boyfie max user0399 this is the cutest thing i've ever seen user000 god i am so single maxverstappen1 love you baby >>>danielricciardo SIMP >>>maxverstappen1 absolutely >>>user9938 it kills me that he is loves her so boldly and loudly. girl hit the mfing jackpot. (liked by author)

It's not your alarm that fully wakes you up on Friday morning. It isn't Max's either. But as you try to untangle your limbs from Max's and search for the source of the ringing, you can't help but curse whoever is interrupting the slow sleepy cuddles that had been progressing into something more heated for the past 20 minutes.

You nearly spit you're so mad when you see the caller ID.

"John." You growl, sitting up in bed as Max settles himself back against the mountain of pillows beside you. "It is 8 in the morning on a Friday the day after I saw my boyfriend for the first time in over three weeks. I swear on all things good and holy, this had better be good."

John, to his credit, didn't even scoff at the threat. He'd been your business manager for going on four years now and was used to your early morning attitudes.

"She said yes."

You sit up, back going ramrod straight as the three words clang through you. "What?" You hiss.

Beside you, Max struggles to sit up too, alarm coursing through him at the panic in your voice.

"Tree just called me five minutes ago. Said that Kylie had sent her the episode and wouldn't stop gushing about how amazing you were and how you were the perfect person to do this interview on the end of the tour and everything. Tree said Taylor watched your episode with Michelle and Queen Maxima too, said they were the best interviews she's ever seen. Everything is a go."

Your entire world tilts as what John is telling you fully sinks in. "Taylor Swift's agreed to come on the show?" You voice is weak, heavy under the weight of the news John is telling you. Your hands tremble at the thought of what this means for you. For your career.

Beside you, Max sucks in a breath at your sentence, fully aware of how big of a moment this is for you. Pride soars through him as he watches literal sunshine dance across your face, your smile as bright as the Texas morning light. "Schatje." He whispers, pulling your free hand towards his lips. Your eyes dart over to him and you grin at him, kicking your feet a little, completely unable to hide your excitement.

"She also said yes to your suggestion of a behind the scenes vlog on your channel ahead of the release of the episode. Thought the idea was marketing gold. You've got full access to everything for the entire week."

Before you had landed Kylie Kelce on the show, you and John had made a silly, pie in the sky request to Tree Paine not even thinking that it would go anywhere. When Kylie had agreed to do an episode, a request that had actually been made to her people months before John had contacted Tree, the idea of maybe, just maybe you might be able to land Taylor after had grown a bit. You hadn't told anyone of the request, not even Max, because you didn't want to be embarrassed if it didn't work out.

"There's only one problem." Your heart stops and you grip at Max's hand for support. You knew there had to be a catch. "They want you in Toronto by Sunday."

"Wh-what?" Your stomach plummets through the floor. You had just gotten to Austin last night and now you were going to have to leave again? You were supposed to spend the entire triple header with Max. Three weeks of solid time with him had been the only thing getting you through the previous three week separation. You two had even planned to go visit your parents in Michigan between Austin and Mexico later next week.

"The first concert is Monday and Tree wants you to get as much content as you can and has asked you be there at 9am Monday morning."

You head spins. "Oh-okay." There's a giant Max shaped hole in your heart at what you have to agree to, simply exhausted by the fact that you're going to have to pick up and leave again so soon. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

"Do you want me to have Shannon make flight arrangements?"

You glance over at Max, who senses your apprehension. "Let me talk through it with Max and see what we can figure out. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Sounds good. Congratulations, kiddo. This is huge."

You smile despite yourself, excitement and anxiety winding their way through your chest making it a little hard to breathe. "Bye John."

You gently place your phone back on the bedside table before turning to Max, bracing yourself for the good and bad news you have to deliver.

"The beginning of that call looked phenomenal but now you look like you're going to be sick." Max observes, pulling you into his lap.

You shudder against when his lips graze your neck, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Taylor Swift agreed to come on the show and to let me do a weeks worth of behind the scenes of her Toronto shows."

"Baby, that is amazing. This is going to be huge for you and the show!"

You nod, a bit dazed by all of this information you have to process. "But they want me there by Sunday night so I can start first thing Monday." Sadness edges into your voice, the dread of having to leave Max again begins to sink in fully.

"When should Greg have the jet ready to take off then? You'll probably want to leave before the end of the race to beat traffic, yeah? Although I suppose we could find you a helicopter to take you from the track to the airport."

You stare at Max like he's grown three heads. His voice is so nonchalant despite him suggesting he rent you a helicopter that all you can do is blink at him for a few moments. "Just...just like that? You're on board with it? You're not upset?"

Max scoffs, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms go tighter around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Why would I be upset? I'll do anything I can to help you live out this dream, schatje. You know that. This is the biggest thing to happen to your career since you had F1 racing legend Max Verstappen as a guest."

The giggle that tumbles out of you has the tension in the room popping like a soap bubble. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." Max finds your lips then, the kiss full of reassurance and confidence. Of course he was disappointed you were going to be leaving in 2 days and he wasn't sure when you'd be back with him but this opportunity was too good to miss. "I'd never forgive myself if you missed spending a week doing what you love with one of your favorite artists because of me. Of course I'll miss you but you need to do this. So tell me, when should I have the jet ready to get you to Toronto?"

yourpersonalinsta story post

story replies: user8882 ARE YOU THERE FOR ERAS TOUR??? user029 what are you up to ma'am??? user837 wait. first kylie's on the show and now you're in Toronto the same week as Taylor. ARE WE GETTING A TAYLOR EPISODE OH MY GOD.

TheYappingHour posted

876,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux, and others theyappinghour Toronto, you were stunning! Can anyone guess who our next guest on the show is going to be??? Behind the scenes vlog dropping next week ahead of a very very special two part episode set to drop later this month. user928 oh my god, everyone stay calm, it's happening. user020 IS THIS FOR REAL??? I will never recover maxverstappen1 so proud of you my love >>>yourpersonalinsta couldn't do it without you, maxie >>>user928 if there's one thing Max is going to be, it's the first one in the likes and comments on anything his girl does. (liked by yourpersonalinsta) >>>user0298 may this kind of love find me one day

Excerpt from Episode 59 of The Yapping Hour featuring Taylor Swift:

You: Speaking of what you do in your down time, can we talk about how supportive you are of your boyfriend and show up for him despite the Brad's and Chad's hating every second of it?

Taylor: It's so silly to me, how much everyone hates it. When I show up at the game, I'm just like every other significant other. I'm not there to take the spotlight away from anyone, I just want to watch my man play!

You: Oh my God, I totally get it. It's so strange to me the way some fans can't handle someone like you who has a whole other identity outside of who you're dating, showing up to support the person you love.

Taylor: It's like, relax! I'm just here to watch my boyfriend catch a ball!

You: Right? Just let me enjoy watching 20 cars drive around in circles in peace please!

Taylor: You two are so cute though. Trav was watching the race in Monaco a few months back, right after he invested in Alpine, and there was that one shot of you and Max after the end of the race in his garage and you were giving him a hug. I love how loudly you love him and how public he is about you. It's refreshing.

You: Oh gosh, thank you. Yes, he is so supportive of everything I do, just like Travis is. It's such a comfort, isn't it? *Taylor nods* He actually stayed in Austin an extra day so I could use his jet to come up here.

Taylor: Trav was supposed to go to that race but got caught up in training stuff. It looked like so much fun.

You: Have you ever been to a race? Either of you?

Taylor: I haven't but Travis went to the Las Vegas race last year. Said it was the one of the biggest parties he'd ever been to.

You: You'll have to come this year then! It's in a few weeks!

Taylor: I'll talk to Trav and see if we can make it happen.

TheYappingHour posted

1,039,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, kikagomes, and others theyappinghour What an absolute whirlwind of a week and a half. Spending time with your favorite artist, seeing her in her element, and then spending a few hours talking about everything from what it's like to live such a public life to how important it is to have a supportive significant other. I simply can't wait to share the behind the scenes vlog dropping at the end of this week and then the episode later this month. Taylor, you are a dream of a human being and we are so happy to have had this opportunity. Can't wait to see you and Travis at a race! taylorswift You are such a sweetheart! So glad we got to spend time together this past week! Can't wait to hear the episode my love! kikagomes how does it feel to live my dreammmm bestie??? >>>yourpersonalinsta kiks omg i will never recover from this!! maxverstappen1 Proud of you, as always lifeje. >>>yourpersonalinsta can't wait to see you so so so soon baby

"And he doesn't expect a thing?" You glance up at the ticket counter where the airline employee has begun to call first class. You stand, phone still pressed to your ear, pulling your carry on behind you.

"Nope!" On the other end, Max's PR manager Sophie giggles conspiratorially. "He was just complaining to GP ten minutes ago how he couldn't believe they didn't have more flights from Sao Paulo to Paris. He said he was considering upgrading his jet to one with longer range so he could fly private next time."

You roll your eyes but chuckle. If you were a drama queen, your boyfriend could be the drama king to match sometimes. Although you didn't blame him to be quite honest. After leaving Austin mid way through the race, you had missed the Mexico race entirely. The plan had been for you to fly down to Brazil for the Sao Paulo race but editing and press had taken much longer than you had anticipated so now it was Saturday night and you were boarding a 9 hour flight from New York to the South American country.

Only, Max didn't know that. Max thought you were getting on a flight to Nice via Paris before driving to Monaco where he'd meet you sometime late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. Joke was on him though, you had finished everything up and had called Sophie for help to get you down to Brazil just in time for Sunday's race.

"He's such a baby." You murmur as the flight attendant leads you to your seat.

"He is beside himself missing you." Sophie says and you can hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure I'm around when he sees you for the firs time, okay? He's going to lose it."

Laughing, you hoist your suitcase into the overhead bin before settling down in the luxurious lie flat seat that will be your bed for the next nine hours. If everything goes right, you'll land in Brazil just as the postponed qualifying is finishing up and will be able to watch the entire race in person.

"Thank you for helping coordinate this, Soph. I really appreciate it."

"Anything to get Max out of this slump he's in!" She replies brightly.

A few minutes later, you hang up the phone and type out a quick text letting Max know you're boarding the flight. Luckily, the flight from New York to Paris is roughly the same time as the flight to Sao Paulo so he doesn't bat an eye when you tell him you'll be unreachable, only telling you that the doorman to his building is expecting you and to make yourself at home in his apartment in Monaco when you get there before he does.

************************************************************************

It is absolutely raining cats and dogs when the car Sophie hired pulls into the track after what feels like a lifetime of travel. Right after they served dinner on your flight, you took a sleeping pill and passed out for the duration of the flight, only waking up once the pilot turned on the overhead lights, signaling your arrival.

A quick text to Sophie alerts her to your arrival and she says she'll come and meet you outside the paddock with an extra umbrella. The driver that picked you up from the airport will take your luggage to the hotel where Max and the team are staying. When the car stops in front of the paddock gates, you spot Sophie immediately.

"Soph!!" You shout the moment you stumble out of the car, limbs a little stiff from the long car ride. Sao Paulo traffic is a beast in the best of weather but in a downpour like this? Nightmarish.

Sophie opens her arms to embrace you, "Oh I am so glad you're here. He is an absolute nightmare right now."

You grimace, knowing exactly why. He'd be starting P17 in a few hours. Between the team having got caught behind a red flag during Q2 and his 5 place grid penalty, it was a nightmare scenario for Max. All of this was compounded by Lando's win in the sprint yesterday and the fact that he was starting on pole today.

"Alright then, lets go. Maybe I can talk him down off a ledge before the race starts."

Sophie grins because she knows you'll be able to do just that. If there was anyone who could calm Mad Max down and bring him back to earth after the kind of morning the team had had today, it was you.

As you weave your way through the crowded paddock, the heavy rain simply not a deterrent to anyone at the track today, Max is in the garage considering the merits of scratching his eyeballs out so that he doesn't have to run this fucking race today. Everything is wrong. The car is terrible. Still. The FIA seemed to have a hard on for fucking up his weekend. Lando was on poll. And worst of all, he really fucking missed you. There was still several days between him and being reunited with you but if he could have just walked right out of the paddock and onto a plane to get to wherever you were in that moment, he would have. The only thing that seemed to settle him during these times lately was your steady presence in the garage. He didn't even need you to say anything, just knowing that you were around, within arms length if he needed you, did something to calm him like nothing else could.

He's talking to GP, actually, he's grumbling at GP when a familiar flash of hair and bright smile catches his eyes. Perfect, he thinks miserably, now I'm imagining her in the garage. I've gone full unhinged obsessed boyfriend, haven't I?

Imagine his shock when he actually hears your voice. "Max." You call out softly, hands clasped in front of you as you wait at the edge of the garage beside Sophie.

Max simply blinks a few times, as if he's trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or if you're really standing in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest when everything finally clicks into place. GP doesn't even bat an eye when Max walks away from him, mid sentence, before crossing the garage in a few short strides.

Max isn't usually one for intense public displays of affection, especailly in the garage and neither are you. There's a level of professionalism he likes to maintain while racing and you have always respected that but when Max sees you standing in front of him, practically drowning in one of his sweatshirts, hair wet and messy from walking through the paddock in the rain, he can't stop himself from scooping you up in his arms. Burying his head in your neck, he inhales deeply. So deeply that his lungs pinch with pain from the way he's trying to commit the way you smell to memory.

"You're here." He murmurs, voice thick and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me in Monaco?"

Max sets you down, not really wanting you out of his arms but wanting to move you to a quieter part of the garage. Behind you, Sophie, GP and the rest of the team discreetly shuffle away to give you two a bit of privacy.

"I knew how hard the last two races were for you and I just..." Pausing, you have to wait for a moment for your hands to stop shaking. You've been running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine for what feels like the last three weeks now and the emotion of the moment catches up to you. "I just wanted to be here for you."

Max lowers his lips to yours, covering them in a kiss that is all longing and white hot heat. He keeps the kiss just this side of tame enough for the garage, not wanting to draw the ire of Christian but he had needed to taste you then. His hand comes up to cup your face while the other slips around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body. He's slightly damp from how wet it's been this morning but none of that matters now that you're back in his arms.

"I missed you so much." He murmurs, blue eyes practially sparkling down at you, he's so happy. It's been weeks since he's felt like this. Settled. Like he can take on the world. For the first time in what feels like forever, Max has a sense of determination that wraps itself around him. Like the championship isn't all but lost to Lando. Like the car isn't going to be terrible today, even though he might not even finish in the points. Like everything he's gone through the past few months on the track is all about to end because you're finally here and if anyone can bring the team luck, it's you.

"I love you." You whisper into his chest. "Now, let's go show the world why you're about to become a 4 time world champion, yeah?"

And that's exactly what he does.

yourpersonalinsta posted

938,398 likes liked by redbullracing, taylorswift, yourdad and others yourpersonalinsta we are SO back, baby!!! What started out as a nightmare of a day turned into a generational drive for the history books. P17 to P1 and I cannot believe I was there to witness it. Max, I am proud of you beyond words. You and the entire team deserve this win today. I love you to the moon and back, Maxie. (tagged: maxverstappen1) taylorswift what a race! Trav and I caught most of it before the game today. Congratulations!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta hope to see you in Vegas in a couple of weeks! >>>user928 oh my god, new bestie duo unlocked!? maxverstappen1 words fail to describe how much I love you baby. Thank you for always being in my corner and never giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself. Love you to the ends of time, schatje >>>user928 i am SOBBING. Boyfriend Max is my favorite Max.

Tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD QUIRKS BATBOYS HAVE IN A RELATIONSHIP ── .✦

A/n: I can’t stop thinking about batboys who have gen z humor in relationships like please💔 RELEASE ME. Like imagine these fighting crime then laughing while watching TikTok on a random Sunday?? (Tags: batboys x fem!reader weird quirks)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Emotional Support Golden Retriever BF: Dick will send you a random “I love you” text with 15 heart emojis and the rainbow hearts in one line (ugh DISGUSTING 🤢) followed by “I miss you” five minutes later… even if you’re in the same room. (STUPID MILLENNIAL.)

Chaotic Selfies: He’s the type to send you selfies with the dumbest captions like, “Why am I kinda hot tho?” or “Babe, if you leave me, you’re blind.”

Random Dance Breaks: Dick will randomly break out in TikTok dances in the middle of your conversations. You’ll be arguing about what to have for dinner, and he’ll just hit this (here) saying, “Can’t be mad at this, babe.”

His Comedy Bit: Anytime you trip or stumble, Dick’s like, “Are you falling for me again?” Cue your eyeroll as he grins like he just invented comedy.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The "I Hate Everyone but You" BF: Jason sends you TikToks that scream “us” energy. Think of the “grumpy bf, sunshine gf” trope in meme form.

Trash-Talking Together: He doesn’t even pretend to like people. “He looks like wind whistles through his head,” he’ll whisper to you about someone in a coffee shop, and you’ll lose it laughing.

Petty King: He sends screenshots of your arguments back to you like, “Tell me I wasn’t right tho.” But he’ll also say, “We’re not fighting, I just think I’m funnier.”

Affection, Jason Style: If you’re cold, Jason’s like, “You should’ve brought a jacket,” then gives you his. But only after making a snarky comment like, “This makes me look good, doesn’t it?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The “I Can’t Sleep” BF: Tim sends you memes at 3 a.m. with “this is us” captions. Then he sends another an hour later saying, “No fr, we need to sleep.”

Weird Intellectual Tangents: Tim will randomly look up from his laptop and ask, “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or 100 duck-sized horses?” You’re too used to it at this point.

Social Media Detective: He likes your posts so fast it’s suspicious and always is the first comment with “❤️” . “How did you see that in two seconds?” you ask. He shrugs. “I have notifications on.”

Soft Nerd Energy: He makes playlists with names like “thinking about you in the Batcave” or “late-night snack runs with you.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Blunt Affection: Damian’s the type to say, “You look ridiculous,” but if anyone else says it, he’ll glare and be like, “She’s perfect.”

Random Acts of Service: He’s not into grand gestures, but suddenly your favorite snack is waiting on your desk, and he’ll just mutter, “Don’t make it a big deal.”

Reluctant Meme User: He pretends he’s too sophisticated for memes, but you’ll catch him smirking at one you sent. “It’s not that funny,” he’ll insist, but you know better.

Sass King: If you call him cute, he’ll say, “I know.” But if you ignore him for too long, he’ll sulk like, “I don’t require your attention. But also, why haven’t you looked at me in 10 minutes?”

[buckyalpine]

I love Bucky loving his body. I love Bucky loved by the team. I love Bucky having his happy ending with a family. Imagine Bucky lounging around the sofa with his little baby girl tucked in his arm, her sweet face covered in frosting after smothering half of her cupcake onto her cheeks. The icing is bright red just like Tony's suit and it's his birthday party afterall, so everything is in full swing. Most of the cupcake is squished between her fingers, very little actually making it into her mouth but Bucky doesn't mind. He chuckles, watching her with heart eyes as she happily smears it onto his crisp white shirt, babbling and cooing, now sucking her thumb.

He is absolutely unbothered by this, all he sees is his happy little baby with her cheeky smile licking up all the frosting just like her mama. While Bucky couldn't care less about his shirt, a few others certainly did.

"Better get dunk that shirt into a bucket of tide pens Barnes" Clint snorted.

"Actually the quicker you get it off, the less likely it is to stain. Take it off now" Tony's voice went from fatherly advice to a seductive growl making Bucky's face twist in amusement, pink starting to color his cheeks.

"Yeah, give the little munchkin to y/n and take it off. Cause of the stain" Nat agreed, cocking an eyebrow. You giggled watching the scene unfold before you, your husband growing bashfully shy.

"Can't hurt punk" Steve shrugged and Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head until he realized his best friend had been nursing a rather large glass of Asgardian mead. Tipsy Steve was always a little bit of a pervert...

"I-

"For the stain"

"I think you just want me to take my shirt off" Bucky huffed while you grinned, giving his cheek a peck before taking your little princess in your arms.

"Can't blame them handsome, c'mon, show em' how lucky I am" you whisper and that sells it. Couldn't hurt and since they were all asking...

"Just take it off!" Nat howled with a wink, a bunch of whistles when Bucky sighed, indulging the team a little. He unbuttons his shirt and hands it off to a genuinely concerned Sam who would normally make sure the shirt got sent to the cleaners but this is too good so he throws it into a bucket of cold water and is back within seconds.

"Good God"

"Jesus"

"You look fuckin' good terminator"

"Alright, alright" Bucky holds his hands up, unable to stop the way his ears are bright red, shaking his head when you blow him a kiss making him blush more.

"Body shots!"

"What?"

"Yes"

Tony's eyes glimmer with excitement, and Bucky snorts, loving the way you egg him on, his daughter also squealing with excitement.

"Go on Sarge, y'know you look good"

He lies down on the bar table, surrounded by just the team, abs beautifully flexed as Nat pours a generous amount of some type of alcohol right on his belly button.

"When else will we get this lucky" She says with a playful smirk while Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Why are you cracking your knuckles, what the hell do you plan on-

"ME FIRST" He doesn't give anyone a chance, face planting himself into Bucky's tummy, his lips sealed, drinking every bit of the burning liquor with a satisfied hum.

"How much has he had to drink"

"Who cares, me next"

"I think you've licked enough of my husband"

"You get him all the time, don't be greedy"

"That cute little chubby ball of frosting and giggles is enough evidence you get him every which way, besides isn't there another one cooking, y'can't have any now git"

"Blink twice if you need help"

"Bro looks like an angel"

"Why aren't you blinking"

"Crafted by the heavens"

"You like this, don't you"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, surrounded by idiots. Drunk idiots. His wife. His baby girl. Another little one on the way. All who love him. Would protect him. Life was good.

[talaok]

Acting Normal

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javi’s been thinking about that night every minute of every day, while you're acting like it never even happened, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's gonna lose his mind.

warnings: smut| fingering, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being a simp, sex in the workplace, (it's not public but there's a possibility of getting caught)

a/n: I already know what to write for part 3, this couple is my new obsession lol

This is a part 2 to this story, but it can be read alone

Javi

This was really important stuff

He was really supposed to be listening

He was paid to listen to it,

that's what he kept repeating himself,

and yet- yet if someone asked him to repeat whatever Carillo was saying, he couldn't have spit out one singular word.

But it wasn't his fault, not really.

You must have been doing it on purpose, there was no way you were doing all that just accidentally.

Your lips were wrapped around the lollipop in a way that left nothing to the imagination- he could feel those lips on him, he knew how soft and sweet they were from kissing them, but around him... oh they would feel even sweeter, he was sure-

"If you're not gonna listen to me then why am I even here?"

It took Javier much too long to realize what Carillo had said

"I'm listening" he stated with enough confidence to fool anyone- except he was talking to one of the few people that could see right through his bullshit.

"I'm surprised you haven't done it yet" the Colonel shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke "I thought she would have given in by now"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Carillo couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been obsessed with her since she first arrived"

Javier hadn't even noticed that his gaze was back on you... or that his colleague had spoken again.

"yeah," Carillo chuckled, patting Javi's back "I'll just talk to Murphy"

And that was that, Carillo was gone, and Peña was left at a desk at the corner of the room, staring at you with the intensity with which a lion watches a gazelle.

He didn't know what the fuck to do.

To be completely honest with himself, he'd made a fucking mess.

He'd always been attracted to you, I mean there's not much of you that any man could find not hot, and sure, he'd spent about a year flirting with you as you rolled your eyes at him... but that's just how he was- he never thought it'd ever actually happen- and now...

Now he was fucked

You seemed so incredibly normal around him, like that night a week ago had been just a perfect dream, while him- fuck he couldn't even look at you without picturing how perfect you looked from between your tighs.

He'd thought he could manage to just do it that one time, to get it out of his system... what a stupid fucking bastard- he'd only made everything ten times worse.

And the worst part was that you didn't seem affected by it, not even a little bit- like now, there you were, looking all concentrated and everything, your brows furrowed, your bare legs crossed, one of them swinging ever so often, and your lips... your lips wrapped around the candy were an image sent straight from heaven.

Fuck- he was half fucking hard just by looking at you.

He needed to do something- now- or he was gonna go fucking crazy.

__ __ __

"can I have a talk with you for a moment?"

He was leaning over your desk, not doing a great job of masking his desire.

You, on the other hand, hadn't even looked up from the paper before you.

"what's up?"

what's up?

He'd made you squirt on your boss' desk for fuck's sake, and you tell him what's up??

"Just something I think you could help me out with, in the evidence room"

"now?" you winced, finally looking at him

"Yeah now"

__ __ __

"so what is it? did they misplace a file again-"

"How are you acting so normal?"

A gasp fled your mouth as you turned around and found him but an inch from you

"Jesus" you breathed "what are you talking about?"

"and who even eats lollipops past the age of five?"

He took a step closer and you took a step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

He'd cornered you.

"what is going on with you?" you hissed, only for him to take another slow step, and place his hand on the wall, right next to your head

"you, that's what's going on with me" his breath was fanning over your mouth, images of last week's night flashing both your minds "I've had the best sex of my life with you, and you're acting like it was just another Tuesday night"

"I-"

"I can still taste you on my tongue, I can still feel you around me, and you look at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking colleague y/n"

"Javier-"

"And then" he chuckled darkly, interrupting you once again "and then you have the nerve to suck on a fucking lollipop right in front me-"

A soft laugh couldn't help but bubble up your throat at that.

"Did that seriously... turn you on?"

"So what if it did?" he purred, his left hand finding your waist and forcing you off the wall and flush against him, against the blatant proof of his arousal.

You gasped, your hands clutching the shirt covering his chest.

"you're worse than a hormonal teenager"

His eyes sparked with malice as he bent down, his mouth skimming your mouth and cheeks, leaving shivers in his passage, until he pressed his lips right below your ear.

"A hormonal teen that made you squirt for the first time in your life"

"Javier-" your voice had already reduced to a thread of a whimper.

Fuck him and his irresistible sex appeal.

He was right, no one had ever made you feel as good as he had, and as much as he thought you weren't affected by that knowledge, he'd be shocked to find out how difficult it proved not to squirm every time he merely looked at you.

Yes, of course you were constantly thinking about that night too.

"Tell me you don't think about it"

He was like a mind reader

You stayed silent, conscious that any response you could give would inevitably give you away.

"That's what I thought" A snicker rumbled from his chest, his hand moving from your waist to slide underneath the hem of your skirt.

You hummed, your brain only half functioning as he continued to trail hot wet kisses down your throat.

"W-what are you doing?" you tried to speak normally without success.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" he smirked, his hand now fully cupping your clothed core, making you whine "What I've been thinking of doing for a whole damn week- so I don't lose my mind"

Two of his fingers were circling the wet spot on your panties when a phone rang from the other room, making your eyes snap open.

What the fuck were you doing?

You were at work- anyone could come in at any moment.

"Javier wait," you said, finally getting your voice back to normal.

"what is it, sweetheart?" from the way his eyes were still a thousand shades darker and blatantly staring at your mouth you could have guessed the danger of being caught didn't trouble him one bit.

"We can't"

He groaned frustratedly then, his head falling between your neck and shoulder

"why not sweetheart?"

"are you serious?" a quick laugh bubbled up your throat "we're at work"

"so?"

"so?" you parroted, only your voice was heightening with exasperation "so anyone could catch us at any given moment"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips, the hand that was still on your wall going to your waist to get you flush against him

"Are you ashamed of me sweetheart?" he teased

"Well, to be completely honest having sex with the biggest slut in Columbia isn't exactly my highest moment"

He feigned a gasp, his hot breath fanning over your own parted mouth

"Me? A slut?"

"yeah, you" You couldn't fight the smile pulling at your lips.

There he was, doing it again- making all your common sense fly out the window with his godforsaken charm.

"c'mon baby, I'll be quick"

And although you didn't want to, you could see yourself starting to consider his proposal.

"that's supposed to convince me?" you arched a brow, an amused smile pulling at your lips

"What, you think I can't make you come quickly?" he purred, his hand going to your ass in a swift move to grab at it.

You bit down a whine "Well I don't know"

"tell me you don't want it" he teased, the fingers on your core starting a torturous path up and down your still-clothed, but unbelievably drenched, slit "That you don't want this"

His fingers had trespassed your panties and had now found your raw skin, making you gasp

"anyone could come in us, including Messina" you added breathlessly

"I locked the door" he promised, his forehead on yours as his ring and middle finger gently found their way inside of you.

"a-and what if someone needs to get in?" you tried your best not to moan, but the way he curled his fingers made it so very fucking difficult

"then we'll tell them to fuck off" he murmured, his mouth now touching yours, but still not kissing you.

"If we get caught I'm gonna kill you, we clear?"

"yes ma'am" he smirked, his breath mixing with yours

"now- may I kiss you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes before answering "Yes, you may"

And just like that, he was devouring you, his lips crashing with yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore every inch of it, gaining dominance on your own in a matter of seconds.

"fuck I missed this" he groaned, his fingers suddenly speeding up and robbing you of all ability to tease him about his words "these fucking lips are gonna be the death of me"

Your mouth was open as you desperately tried to get oxygen to your lungs, but he didn't care, he took your bottom lip into his mouth and started sucking, his fingers fastening their pace as the filthy sound of your wetness bounced off the walls of the room.

"tell me you thought about it too" he growled, his palm making contact with your clit and forcing you to gasp as your hips started grinding onto it, onto his hand, sparks of pleasure staining your vision. "tell me I'm not the only crazy one baby"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as you felt yourself grow closer to a release.

"shit- you look so fucking hot when you're about to come"

"I-" your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the heat of his stare on you, the way his eyes never left you, not even as he kissed your neck, the soft stubble of his mustache tickling your skin "I've thought about it too javi"

The satisfied groan he let out told you just about everything you needed to know.

"When?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his fingers relentless

"A-always" you whimpered, "e-everytime I look at you"

shit- maybe you shouldn't have said that

"yeah?" a wolfish grin tugged at his lips "You think about me? about my cock? my fingers? my tongue?"

You mewled at his words, at the memory they brought with them, at how fucking good he was making you feel-

"J-Javi please"

"what?" he breathed, his mouth on yours again, your hips grinding shamelessly onto his hand "You're gonna come baby, 's that it?"

"y-yeah- fuck- I-"

he knew the signs by now, he knew those desperate breathless sounds you made just as you reached your peak- and god did he fucking love them

"come for me- come baby" he murmured, his lips crushing with yours to stifle your moans just as your walls spasmed around his digits- wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Oh how he loved seeing the strong fiery woman he saw every day come apart beneath him, all your walls crumbling down 'till there was just pure lust and pleasure beneath your eyes, 'till your body went limp and clung to him for support.

"fuck" you breathed your eyes finally opening again, only to find that his had never left yours. "I-" you gulped, but his lips were on yours again, his hands holding your face on each side, his fingers now out of you.

"w-we should get back," you said, mostly trying to remind yourself, of where you really were, of what you were really doing... but it was all so difficult when he was looking at you like that- when you could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans- the same one that had felt so fucking good inside of you.

"we should" he agreed, although a twisted grin played on his lips.

he was already kissing you again, exploring you again, and in no time you found yourself caged between him and a shelf filled with boxes of evidence, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Damn him

"People are gonna start wondering where we are"

"we're here... looking at evidence," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his hips grinding onto you, his mouth on the corner of your lips.

"fuck- fine," you murmured, the need for him stronger than anything at this point, even than the fear of getting fired.

He didn't waste a second- his dick was out in a heartbeat, and your panties were pulled to the side before you had even time to breathe.

His tip, his red, glistening tip found your entrance, making you gasp.

"c-condom" you suddenly remembered, your voice so feeble it was almost inaudible "Please tell me you've got a condom"

"fuck- you're right" he muttered, frustration tracing his tone "I should have one in my wallet"

Of course he had one in his wallet

His left hand reached into his back pocket, finding his wallet and taking the condom out of it as quickly as he could, throwing the wallet somewhere to the side.

You were supporting yourself all on your own as he rolled the condom onto his dick, which might sound easy... but seeing the state of your leg it really was a miracle.

It was all so fast, he seemed desperate as he guided his tip to your entrance, as he gripped your waist and kissed your lips while entering you.

He was so fucking big, definitely the biggest one you'd ever encountered, and not only that... but he fucking knew how to use it too.

It was impossible not to moan, and for him, it was impossible not to groan- let's just say the possibility of getting caught wasn't first on the list of things in your mind at the moment.

"fuckfuckfuck" you whimpered, letting out a soft cry when he finally bottomed out

"Jesus Christ you feel fucking perfect" he growled, his eyes on yours, his hands gripping your waist as he tried his best to give you a moment to adjust and not start to fuck you like an animal right away.

"J-Javi"

And that, that little plead in your voice was all he needed to hear.

There was no way the sound of your skin slapping with his couldn't be heard from outside.

He felt so fucking good- criminally so.

"oh my g-" you had to bite down on something, and the little sliver of skin his shirt didn't cover right where his shoulder met his neck seemed much too perfect for your need.

He groaned, the bastard fucking groaned in pleasure as your teeth sank down into his skin, and you swore to god you could have come from that sound alone.

Your hands were laced between his neck, fingers taking hold of whatever hair you could grab, as he thrust up into you like a man starved, and you did all you could to meet his movements with the same urgency.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like it'd been an eternity- a torturous, awful eternity of daying yourself of this.

"been thinking about this every fucking minute this week" his voice was breathy, hoarse, as he whispered to your ear "about this perfect fucking pussy of yours- about your mouth, about how- Fuck me-" his own growl interrupted him, your walls were squeezing him much too fucking tight "how good you taste, how hot you look when I'm eating you out- about this fucking perfect body of yours" he purred "Jesus christ you make me lose my mind"

You couldn't help but moan, moan at his words, at his pace, at the way his touch sent sparks flying in your belly- it was all too much.

"You've gotta be quiet baby" he murmured as you raised your head to look at him, to beg him for something- anything.

"I know sweetheart, I know" he breathed, his lips skimming yours "I know issa lot"

And to think you couldn't even stand him seven days ago... look at you now- looking into his eyes pleadingly as he fucked you in the evidence room.

"Javi" you could only breathe as his mouth crashed with yours once again, "I'm gonna-"

"I know"

Of course he knew

And just like that, you were over the edge, his tongue in your mouth muffling your cries as his thrust got more erratic, and somehow even more powerful.

Once again, he'd given you the best orgasm of your life.

He tried to hold off to let you ride it out, but fuck him it was proving to be real fucking difficult.

And then you opened your eyes- your beautiful, dreamy, eyes that he'd been dreaming of for days and there was no point in fighting it anymore-

"F-fuck y/n- fuck-"

There was a loud thud somewhere behind you, but neither of you cared enough to look, or god forbid stop- there was only you, you, and the spectacular groan Javier fed you into a kiss as he finally reached his climax.

There was only the sound of your breathing, both your heavy breathings as you looked at each other- and then you smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

And then all of the sudden the sounds from the office started flowing into the room again.

Oh right

"we really have to get back"

"yeah" he halfheartedly agreed, slowly setting you back on your feet, only in doing so, something caught your eye.

"fuck"

There were files on the floor- there were files on the floor because you'd knocked down some of the boxes of evidence- and you hadn't even noticed.

Javier followed your line of sight, but while panic was setting in your heart, he began to smile

"don't laugh!" you hissed, "what the fuck do we do? How do we explain this?"

"we don't" he simply shrugged, closing his zipper back up as you quickly tried to make yourself presentable.

"What?"

"we were never here- now, get back out there"

"I-"

"trust me" he said, retrieving his wallet from the floor.

And for some fucking reason, you did- you trusted him.

"I hate you so much" you muttered, finally exiting the room.

Tg:@fallout-girl219

[reidmarieprentiss]

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark. 

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real. 

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,�� you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

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

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[fireinmoonshot]

surprise | tyler owens x reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader Summary: You drive to Oklahoma to surprise Tyler before a chase after he's had a stressful week. Warnings: Tyler calls reader baby. Other than that, I think there's nothing! Word Count: 1.2k A/N: I randomly had this idea after I rewatched Twisters tonight and thought it was so cute so I had to write it. I am also working on some requests you guys have sent in, just have been having a crazy few days at work so I haven't had the chance to finish and post them – but they're coming! For now, enjoy this! 💗

The second that Tyler stops the truck, it’s practically swarmed by tens of fans, all wanting an autograph and a selfie and the chance to see the famous Tornado Wranglers in person. The gas station is packed to the brim full of actual professional storm chasers and amateurs. You would consider yourself to be neither.

From your spot across the parking lot, you watch as Tyler exits the car, yelling his famous catchphrase: “If you feel it…”, the fans finishing it off with “chase it!” You’re leant up against the door of your own car, a smile on your face as you see the smile on Tyler’s. He almost always takes the time to greet everyone that’s come out to see them, signing photos and taking selfies. His stash of pre-signed photos that he keeps in his car always coming in handy.

Dating the one and only Tyler Owens, famous storm chaser, was not something for the weak. You’d known that from the very start. To anyone else, it’d probably bother them, having to wait for him to interact with all of the fans before he could make his way over to you. But for you? You love being able to watch him, see the genuine joy on his face at meeting the people who had changed his life by watching their once little Youtube videos. You wish you got to do it more often.

You know that when Tyler does eventually spot you, it’ll be worth all the waiting, worth the hours of solo driving you’d done alone to get here. Nearly seven hours of driving from your home in Arkansas just to surprise your boyfriend. He’d been stressed lately with the lack of storms across Oklahoma and the neighbouring states along Tornado Alley, wondering what was going to happen to their channel if they couldn’t produce content for it.

But the sight of everyone still taking selfies with the Wranglers proves to you that Tyler has nothing to worry about at all. You can see the Tornado Wranglers have a loyal fanbase. 

You watch for a few more minutes, stifling a yawn as you do. You’d stopped after five hours of driving last night and spent the night at a motel which had given you one of the worst nights sleep of your life, and done the last few hours in the morning before arriving at the gas station that Tyler had told you they were headed to today. It was the closest gas station to where storms were predicted today, hence the crowd. 

You’re about to start wandering over towards Tyler and the other Wranglers, still making their way through the crowd of fans, when you can see Tyler spot you. He’s just finished taking a selfie with a middle-aged woman when he stops in his tracks, eyes settling on you. Even from your distance, you can tell he’s spotted you.

It’s confirmed when he mutters a quick word to the people around him before he takes off at a run, straight towards you. He kicks up dust and dirt as he runs, trying to get to you as quickly as possible. You can’t keep the smile off your face as he gets closer.

“Baby, what the hell!?” He yells, not long before he reaches you. 

Tyler almost knocks the wind out of you as he barrels into you, wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you off the ground. He spins you around in a circle and it’s impossible not to laugh at the feeling, his arms tight around you. He sets you back down on the ground and pulls away, hands still resting on your waist.

“Surprise,” you grin at him. 

“You drove all this way just to surprise me?” Tyler looks at you in awe, his eyes both filled with an immense amount of love as well as a tinge of worry. “Baby, that’s a seven hour drive. Didn’t you have a shift yesterday? Please don’t tell me you drove all night.”

You shake your head. “I only drove till midnight, then I stopped at a motel. Promise.”

Tyler moves one of his hands to cup your cheek before he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re insane, y’know that? Drivin’ till midnight after an eight hour shift. You should’ve told me. What if something had happened to you on the road?” 

You can see the worry etched on his face so you waste no time in pulling him in for a hug again, burying your face in his chest. Tyler reacts immediately, gently resting one of his hands on the side of your head. You feel him take a deep breath, taking everything in, taking your presence in. 

“Ty, nothing happened. I’m here, I’m safe. I’m with you.”

He nods and rubs one of his hands up and down your back. “Thank you for comin’, baby. You have no idea how good it feels to be holdin’ you right now. When I looked over here and I saw you… was like everything felt like it might actually be okay.”

“Cause it will be, Ty,” you assure him. “But I do feel a little bad for tearing you away from the people that didn’t get selfies or autographs with you before you ran off.”

Tyler pulls away from the hug, but he still keeps a hand on you. “You got nothin’ to feel bad about, baby. I promise you that. And they all know who you are, I’m sure they get it.” 

You smile up at him and then have to stifle another yawn. Your attempt at hiding it fails spectacularly, though, and Tyler narrows his eyes at you. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” One of his hands rests on your cheek again, a thumb gently stroking back and forth over your cheek. 

“A little,” you say. “The motel was kinda dodgy. The mattress was like a rock.”

Tyler gives you one of his best unimpressed looks and shakes his head. “Okay, I’m sending you back to our motel. I’ll give you my room key, it’s in the truck, and you can go and rest up while we try and chase this storm this afternoon.”

“No, no,” you disagree. “I’m comin’ with you, Ty. I didn’t drive all this way just to be cooped up in some motel watching your chase on a computer screen. I gotta steal my seat back from Boone. He’s been gettin’ way too comfortable up there.”

Tyler let out a laugh and leans down to gently peck your lips. “Oh, baby, you know that seat belongs to you. And believe me, Boone knows it too.” 

He attempts to step backwards, then, but you’re quick to move, placing one of your hands on the back of his neck and bringing his lips back to yours. Tyler has no objections, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses you back. It’s been weeks since he last saw you, weeks since he got to kiss you like this. You’re surprised he managed to hold off on it for so long after reuniting with you. 

“Come on,” you say after breaking apart from the kiss. You reach down and grab Tyler’s hand in yours, weaving your fingers through his. “Let’s go give the rest of these people their autographs and selfies and get me my seat back.”

Tyler grins, giving your hand a squeeze. “Lead the way, baby.” 

[flowersforjude]

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Cousin!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You could not leave him. Not when your very breath was the only thing that kept him tethered to this world. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,433

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Arguing, Angry Jace, Desperate Jace, One curse word, Kind of hurt/comfort. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This was requested by @intheheartoftheking. I had a million different ideas for this, but the inspiration wasn’t there for any of them. So, I hope this is to your liking! Also, Varaxs is the name I gave the reader’s dragon! 

masterlist

Sea salt kisses your cheeks as the gentle roll of the tide rushes below you. The familiar scent of your dragon fluttered in the breeze as the Dragon Keepers brought your ivory mount out to you. Varaxs growled deeply, as if mimicking the waves that crashed against the inky cliffs of Dragonstone.

Chills danced up your spine as the cold seeped into your bones beneath your riding clothes. The weather wasn’t what had you so chilled, though.

Nervousness burns through your mind. Has your eyes darting from the dragon pit to the palace looming behind you. Every howl of the wind and every tumbling pebble falling from the rocks, kept you on high alert of discovery. There were more than enough troubles to keep your mind occupied, but should anyone catch you here before you could depart, your plan would be all for nothing. 

The Greens had sent an assassin to take Rhaenyra’s life in the dead of night. Ser Arryk was unsuccessful thanks to his brother’s valiant efforts, which cost him his life. But even if the Queen was unharmed, the usurper must still pay for the cowardly attempt on her life. 

Rhaenyra still hoped for peace, though, and such wishes had her stalling her hand. You, as her stepdaughter and loyal subject, could no longer rationalize doing nothing. 

And so, you were going to King’s Landing.  

You dare not give thought to what could befall you once you’re there. But if death or something worse awaited you, then it would have been worth it fighting for your queen. 

The wind seemed to pick up with his arrival. You didn’t notice until a loud cry of your name sounded over the currents. You spin around and see your betrothed, Jacaerys, dashing towards you. Trepidation and unease flowed through you as you caught sight of his vexed expression. You hadn’t told anyone of your plan, and you thought you had snuck away with no one noticing your absence. But of course, it was Jace who figured it out. 

He’s still in his princely attire, the Targaryen colors displayed proudly. The deep hues of black and red had always complimented him in the most alluring way. His boots kick up clouds of dust and sand as he comes to a stop in front of you. His lips pressed into a hard line, and his jaw clenched in irritation. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword like he always did, but the knuckles were white with the forceful hold he had on it. 

“Jacaerys.” You greet, meeting those serious, dark eyes you’ve lost yourself in more times than you could remember. 

“What are you doing?” He asks simply, but the sharpness of his voice made it clear this was no easy matter. His eyes burned into yours as he stood just inches from you. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” You questioned in return. Deciding to let him reveal what he knew before you told him the whole of your plan. 

He scoffs and swallows thickly. “I am not certain, but I am sure that it is something reckless and not something that my mother approved of.” 

Shifting your weight in the sand, you thought about how best to proceed. “I was anticipating no one finding out until I was already gone.”

“Did you think I would not notice your absence?” He asks incredulously, his brows rising in disbelief. 

You shrugged. “I hoped it would take you a little longer.” A leaden sigh leaves your lips while the restless waters below you rage on. The light reflecting off the water shines like a beacon around Jace, and you have to battle against the longing ache that spreads through your chest. 

“Someone needs to scout King’s Landing. Gather what information we can.” You explain praying to the seven that he’ll understand. 

His eyes widened as exasperation ignited in them. “Have you lost your mind?” He exclaims, shaking his head of dark curls. 

“Jace-” 

“No,” he insists. “You’re not going. You’re not going to fucking King’s Landing, where you very likely will be spotted.” His jaw is tight, and his eyes are just as troublesome as the waters crashing against the rocky shores of the island. 

“Someone has to do something!” You argue back, your raised voice causing Varaxs, waiting in the landing pit, to hiss with displeasure at your growing distress. 

“And if you are captured? Slain? What then?” He sneered, a sudden thickness lingering in his words. 

You lose yourself for a moment. Imagining all the horrors that could come upon you should anyone discover you even somewhat close to the capitol. Aemond held resentment towards you and your sisters for what occurred the night Luke took his eye. And Aegon was a mindless drunk, but no less cruel than his brother. But thinking of all their treachery just made you all the more determined to do everything in your power to see Rhaenyra on the throne. And Jace, good-hearted, compassionate Jace, as the heir.

“I have to do this, Jace. And if I meet my end, then it would be worth it to see Rhaenrya and you reclaim your birthright.”

Desperation colors his features, his sharp expression melting to one of concern and tenderness . Something that stokes the fires of your affection for him. 

“I forbid you.” He finally declares after a long moment of silence. 

“Forbid me?” Your own frustration at last rises to match his. “You are not my king yet. You’re not even my husband yet. So unless you intend to tie me up, I will be leaving now.” 

You turn on your heel to approach your mount. Fully planning on flying off to King’s Landing before his voice breaks. 

“You cannot leave me!” 

You halt in your place, your throat growing tight upon hearing the sheer panic coming from him. Your hands twitch at your sides as the wind dies down enough to allow you to hear the ragged breaths sounding from your betrothed. Hesitantly, not wanting to be met with his distraught expression, you turned back to face him. 

Raw desperation swam in his eyes. His lips, that had welcomed yours in so many devoting kisses, parted with pleading breaths. He closes the short distance between you; his hand captures yours before falling to rest against his heart. Heat flashes through you where your skin touches his. 

When he speaks, his words come out breathlessly. “It is no secret between us my devotion to you.” The strong fingers of his free hand, calloused from all his hours of training, fluttered over your cheek with a touch as light as goose down. “But even before our betrothal, you were my guiding light. In the wake of all the chaos, there was you.” His normally collected voice cracks. He clings to his hold on you as if terrified of you vanishing from his sight forever. “My entire heart craves only a fraction of yours. Even if only a piece of you loved me, that would be plenty, because that would mean at least a part of you was genuinely mine.”

“Jacaerys.” 

His gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I cannot live in a world where you do not exist,” he professed. The air had been stolen from your lungs upon hearing his words. You were no fool to Jace’s affection; you returned it tenfold. But never had he confessed such adoration to you. 

“I cannot just do nothing.” You whispered, knowing he could hear you. 

He was nodding along with your words. “We will destroy them,” he vowed. “But we will do it together. You cannot not be so careless with your life, Issa jorrāelagon.” 

You do not wish to be labeled as rash or reckless, but the Greens must face retribution. For all the agony they’ve caused. You wish only to help your family win back the heritage that was stolen from them. One day, sit by Jace’s side as he rules with all the kindness and strength you know him to possess.

But he was right. 

You look down at his hand, holding yours to his heart. It beat as fiercely as dragon wings in the sky. Each pulse hammered in each nail of faith you had in him. “Together?” You coaxed meeting his eyes again and seeing determination mingling with his sheer devotion. 

“You and I will take back my mother’s throne.” He pledged, pressing a reverent kiss to your brow. “And one day I will take you as my queen, and we will rule together just as we are meant to.”

This was shorter than I wanted it to be, but I'm just glad I was finally able to finish it!

Issa jorrāelagon; My love

[trafficblrpositivityproject]

some people on here don't need positivity asks. popular artists and writers for example. they get enough love, show love to smaller creators instead

Hello anon! You seem confused about how this blog works. Since it seems you are not aware, this is a submission-based blog! (✨0✨) Any person can submit anyone else, regardless of how "popular" that person is. The submission button is in fact the same button you hit to send me this unfortunate and rude ask!

I assume you are not aware of this, as this ask is the only ask you sent me. No other asks, on or off anon, came in alongside this ask. Especially not any asks sending in positivity for small creators, who you claim to be concerned about. But that cannot be right, because if that were true, I would have to conclude you do not actually care about small creators at all, and only want to complain about popular creators getting positivity, which would be not very nice!

Oh, and another thing. One of this blog's only rules is to not put down one member of this fandom in order to uplift another. I assume you did not read the rules in my description, since you did not know I am submission based, so I thought I would let you know!

Ah, but actually though.

"Popular" writers and artists are in fact also people who work hard and provide the fandom with amazing works. There are a lot of popular artists and writers whose work I genuinely admire, and I am happy to use this space to express this admiration. They deserve appreciation for what they do, and as long as people are willing to submit them, I am going to post them.

(Additionally, on an entirely practical level, who am I to decide when someone is "too popular" to be posted? I cannot see anyone's follower counts. This is in fact a main feature of tumblr. Would I just be going by guess? This seems an inefficient system.) (Not that I think you care about this. I assume you have a specific list of users in your head that you, personally, subjectively, do not like, and you want me to adhere to it for your petty grudge.)

One of the many, many reasons I started this blog was in response to how certain people use confessions blogs, where I saw space for people to post anons about how they disliked popular artists and writers, such as how they hated a certain person's art or writing style, often specifying those people by name on anon to a blog with many many followers, where that person will unfortunately see it.

Another of the many, many reasons I started this blog is for my friends who are on the more popular end of the fandom, and how people treat them directly. What they have shown me of their inboxes is nightmarish, with people being rude, entitled, or cruel, simply because they assume that people's humanity does not count after a certain amount of followers. And, in the interest of full disclosure, though I am not extraordinarily popular on my main account, I have gotten my own share of nightmare anons as well.

A third of the many, many reasons I started this blog is because I have seen tumblr users post about other tumblr users by name and how they do not like their art/writing/creations, do not think they deserve their success or support, or simply do not like them without ever even meeting them. They will then post those uncaring words in those user's tumblr tags, again where those people will see them.

All of this made me very sad, because it seemed like somewhere along the way, people seemed to forget those artists and writers are people. Being popular (or perceived as popular) in fandom comes with many benefits, this is true, but it also emboldens the absolute worst members of fandom to be cruel to people they think are an acceptable target.

None of this sort of attitude makes fandom a fun place to be. Fandom is meant to be a community, based in mutual love for the same story. It is meant for making art, or writing, or cosplay, or songs, or other creations. It is made for sharing those creations with strangers who love the same thing you do, and sharing excitement and passion with other fans. It is meant for making friends. It is made out of, and meant for, love. Fandom is not only made worthwhile, but kept alive, through our support for one another.

You may think me a popular artist/writer dick-rider for acknowledging the humanity and fandom contributions of popular creators. I do not mind. I am sorry for you that simply believing people should be kind to one another, or that artists and writers should be recognized for their hard work, is so skewed in your head. I will not apologize for being kind to people, or for providing a space for kindness.

Do not mistake my existence as a positivity blog for me being a pushover. I will absolutely not tolerate any of this sort of attitude on this blog. This is a blog based in kindness, and I will shut down any asks which aim to sow any sort of rudeness.

If you actually care about small creators, be the change you want to see. Submit small creators. I am literally constantly begging for submissions, and I would love for people to submit any and all creators, big or small. I myself have submitted plenty of anons about small creators to my own blog. One of the best parts of this blog is learning about lots of creators I would not have known about before because you all submit small folks. Our support for each other is not just fandom at its best. It is what fandom is for.

All this said. Do not be hateful slime in my inbox again. I do not want to block you, because I think you, too, deserve positivity, if you receive it. But I will block you if you persist. Thank you.