#but was it necessary to be puffy for like TWO DAYS STRAIGHT???

[icejello]

Personal grudge against tears for making my eyes puffy now

[vitalverstappen]

Flash Forward - M. Verstappen (part one)

summary: The world of F1 is never easy. Throw in reuniting with your childhood enemy? You're in for a wild season.

pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, child hood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader

warnings: imposter syndrome, mentions of Jos Verstappen, borderline anxiety attack, swearing, drinking, allusions to sex, lots of pining, use of y/n

a/n: This was written with the 2022 season in mind. I also know nothing about the Belgian/Dutch school systems so I took what I know about the American/UK systems. Hopefully it makes sense! Some of the race results are inaccurate to fit the storyline. Sue me.

word count: 20.3k

masterlist

part two // part three

Max Verstappen. A name you loathed as a child. He was always on edge, striving to be the best in anything he did. It didn’t matter if it was a karting race or a math quiz, he had to be number one. Max knew what it took to succeed in life and he spent day in and day out making sure that he was ahead of the game.

He was an overachiever to say the least. 

Y/n L/n, on the other hand, was relaxed. She went with the flow of life, truly only trying when it was necessary, or if it interested her. The girl wasn’t lazy, she just knew that school wasn’t going to help her in the long run. She was a rule breaker, pushing everything and everyone to their limits. 

They were on opposite ends of any spectrum. 

Age 4

Art class was always your favorite time of the day. It gave you the freedom to express yourself exactly how you wanted - no rules to follow, no one hovering over your shoulder criticizing you. 

It was finger painting day, which you adored. An excuse to get messy, what child didn’t love that? Your fingers swirled across the page as the world in your head came to life with the paint. A castle in the distance as the prince and princess fell in love in the center. 

“What is that?” Max asked from the table across from yours 

A toothy grin formed on your face as you turned the page around to show him. “It’s a princess!” 

A laugh came from Max as he took in your painting “A princess? That’s so lame” 

Quickly, you turned your painting back around, as a rosy glow formed on your cheeks. “What are you painting?” 

Max held up his paper with the same goofy grin you had on moments earlier. A single green blob was on the page. “It’s a racecar!” 

“That doesn’t look like a racecar” You said as you grabbed some paint “ Let me help!” 

“No!” 

Max was too slow with his words as you took the paper from him. He could only watch in horror as you glided your paint covered fingers across the page. 

“There. A race car!” You exclaimed as you passed the paper back to the boy

“You ruined my painting!” He cried “Teacher! Teacher!” 

And that’s how you found yourself being lectured by your art teacher about how you needed to respect other people’s belongings. 

Age 8

As the two of you reached age 8, you each had found sports to fall in love with. In Max’s instance, he was forced into karting by his dad. You, on the other hand, fell in love with skateboarding on your own. Months were spent begging your parents to get you one after you saw a group of kids at a skatepark. For Christmas, your parents finally broke and got you a board to learn. 

Many hours were spent with one of your parents on the asphalt as they helped you learn how to skate properly. After what felt like decades with one of them holding your hand as you pushed off from the ground, you finally got the confidence to ride by yourself. 

A puffy blue jacket was wrapped around your body as you stood on your driveway. A chill rushed through your body as you strapped your bright pink helmet on your head before grabbing your board. 

Hours were spent practicing riding the board in straight lines, going back and forth on the driveway. Some runs were better than others, but you could feel yourself getting better as the day went on. 

The sound of engines quickly filled the neighborhood, a telltale sign that the Verstappens were doing their karting practice. Moments passed and the roar grew louder. It was a matter of time before they ended up on your street. 

Sure enough, you could see the Verstappen half siblings racing each other. The larger of the two, Max, was far ahead from his younger sister. You weren’t expecting Max to stop when he got to your house. 

“Skateboarding?” He asked over the sound of the kart “Isn’t that for boys?” 

You shook your head as you hopped back on your board “It’s for girls too!” 

“Yeah, and unicorns are real” He shot back. You couldn’t tell if you imagined it, or if Max truly had laughed at you as he revved his engine again before taking off, leaving you behind in a cloud of smoke. 

Age 12 

By the time you reached year eight, Max had been competing in national karting championships, leaving your interactions to be few and far between. You had continued your love of skateboarding and art, leaning into photography. 

Somehow you ended up in ownership of a cheap, small point and shoot camera. Regardless if the photos never turned out clear or if the battery ran out at the most inopportune times, you fell in love with the camera. It became a part of you, as your friends and family found it odd when you didn’t have the device in your hands. 

Your best friend Lindsay and her family had dragged you to the local karting track. Her brother was in the race, and Lindsay wanted someone to keep her company other than her parents. 

It was a rainy Sunday morning, but neither you or Lindsay cared. Rain boots splashed through puddles and mud around the track, as the two of you played games during the warmup laps. As the race drew nearer, the clouds began to part. 

“Lindsay!” You called, getting your friend's attention “I wanna take some photos!” 

“Okay!” She yelled back 

You quickly ran to get your camera, its bright red color sticking out of your bag. After you grabbed it, you ran back to where Lindsay was. She struck a pose with a toothy grinned smile. 

Click!

Giggles filled the air as the two of you looked at the photo. Your eyes were taken off the camera screen as the karts whizzed by. The karts captivated you, leaving you wanting more as they drove away.

You darted over to the fence, barely being able to stick your camera lens through the holes. Impatience grew as you waited for the karts to drive by again. A minute passed. Then another. Then the engines roared louder as you clicked your camera a few times. 

Once the karts rushed past, you jumped back from the fence. The screen showed the photos you had just taken. They were a bit blurry, but if anything it helped capture the speed.

When the race finished, you and Lindsay darted over to Parc ferme where Lindsay’s brother and his kart were. From a distance, you were able to watch as he climbed out of his kart, right behind the second place sign. 

Click! Click! 

The first place kart pulled up to its respective spot, and you couldn’t help but stare. Whoever was in the kart was a natural. All eyes were on him as he got out of his kart and threw his arms in the air in celebration.

Click! Click! Click!

The mysterious kart driver’s head whipped around when he heard the sound of your camera. When he finally found you, his helmet tipped in confusion, before he began taking it off. 

“Did you just take a photo of me?” The boy asked. Once the helmet was off of his head, regret filled your head. You should have never agreed to coming. 

“Uh yeah, Max. I did.” You answered

“Why?” He asked, causing you to shrug in response. You didn’t have a real answer.

“I just wanted to. I didn’t realize it was you” You spoke “Do you want to see?” 

“No.” Max answered bluntly before walking away. Typical. 

As the podium happened, you couldn’t help but to snap a few more photos of the top three. You hated that Max was the subject of most of the photos you took, but the excitement you got from snapping the raw emotions on everyone’s face made it worth it.

Age 16

When you reached sixteen, that love of photography grew, and you found a new love for graffiti, much to Max’s dismay. 

The sun was setting on the skatepark you had been practicing your tricks at all evening. When the lot finally emptied out of families and other teens, the sound of cans clanking filled the air as you dropped your backpack. You were never one to carry any books around, so you figured you’d make the bag useful for paint. 

You had been eyeing a blank spot on the base of a ramp the entire evening. After picking out the colors you needed for this project, you flipped your hood up and put on a mask, trying to hide your identity, and got to work. 

The sun was long set by the time you finished the base layers with only some of the details. The harsh lighting of the street lamp was your only help. Graffiti definitely took time, but it was time you wouldn’t spend anywhere else. Your artistry was stopped when you heard a familiar lisp. 

“Uh excuse me, you shouldn’t be doing that” The voice said. 

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Max. His intonation was recognizable from miles away. What did puzzle you though, was what he was doing out so late. 

Regardless, you ignored him, hoping that he would just mind his business and go away. But that’s not how Max worked. 

“You need to stop. That’s vandalism” He said again 

“It’s none of your business, Max. Go away” You finally spoke, turning around 

In the light of the streetlamp, you could see Max’s eyebrows furrow. He was along the sidewalk, not too close to you, but close enough to roughly make out his features. 

“Y/n?” He asked “What are you doing out so late?” 

“I could ask you the same thing, Verstappen. You’re never in town anymore” You said, tossing the can of red paint into your bag before picking up the light blue.

“I was out for a run. I have the week off from racing” He explained before his eyes left yours and back to the art behind you. “You do graffiti?”  

“And still doing photography.” You added “I’ll swing by and take some photos of this place in the morning” 

“You’re going to get in trouble” He blurted out. Some things never change.

A laugh escaped your lips as you turned back to your art, spraying on the light blue in the shape of a ghost. “That’s why I’m doing it at night. Fewer people around, less likely to get caught” 

“But you got caught. I see you doing it right now. I could call the cops.” He suggested 

“Be my guest.” You scoffed as you turned back to him “They have no proof it was me except your eyes. There’s no security here at all. No cameras or anything” 

Max opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He knew you were right. He would be the only witness, and you knew the police didn’t go solely off of that. Checkmate. 

He shook his head “Whatever. It better look good” He said as he started his run again 

“It’s not like you’re gonna be around here again anyway” You yelled after him before turning back to your painting of PacMan and his ghosts. 

The police sirens never did fill the air that night. 

You didn’t realize it at the time, but you were right that Max would rarely be around the town. While you barely graduated from grade school and dropped out after your first semester of university, Max broke onto the Formula One scene as the youngest driver in history. 

As you got older, you found yourself going out for spray painting adventures less frequently. You still loved the art of it, but turned to more legal ways of expressing it - by putting it on canvas. When you did put down the cans, you opted for a camera to fill its place. The point and shoot camera you got years ago turned into a high quality film one, which slowly phased into a DSLR. You adored your film cameras and loved being able to process your own photos, but digital photos truly captured your heart. 

You reignited your passion for sports photography from when you were younger. Any chance to photograph a sport, you jumped at it. Whether it was motorsports, soccer, or ice hockey, your favorite place to be was behind the camera, capturing the raw emotion of the athletes.

Age 24 // Sakhir, Bahrain 

Drills whirled as you walked down pit lane, each team perfecting their pit stop routines. You couldn’t help but stare as the team worked like a unit - moving in one singular motion. 

The first day in the paddock was overwhelming to say the least. There were so many new faces you had been introduced to, along with many rules that Annalese had word vomited at you. It was all hard to keep track of. 

You adjusted the collar of the bright red Ferrari polo that was underneath your camera strap. After countless rigorous interview rounds and portfolio submissions, the team finally offered you a spot on their photography staff. While you had loved jumping from sport to sport in the past, you were finally glad to have a home in Formula One. 

Both Charles and Carlos gave you a quick wave as you passed by the Ferrari garage. You had met them during the preseason meetings back at headquarters, and both boys welcomed you to the family with open arms. Annalease had mentioned you’d be working more with Charles, as he was your assigned driver, but there would always be opportunities to snap photos of Carlos. 

“And to our other side is the Red Bull garage.” She said as the two of you walked towards the blue terminal. She was finishing up your tour of pit lane, after starting from the very back of the stretch. 

You had expected the garage to be mostly empty, as you saw most of their team heading back to the Energy Station. A few engineers were left tinkering with the cars, getting ready for the first testing session. But a familiar blonde was standing in the middle of his garage, analyzing his machine. 

It was only a matter of time before you were going to see him, but you didn’t expect it to be on your first day. Years had passed since you last saw him - eight to be exact. Just like you had, Max grew up. His blonde hair was a little bit longer, but still just as neat as it was growing up. He had filled out his body more, his bobble head now looking normal sized. 

Max must’ve felt someone watching him, as his head snapped up from whatever he was looking at on his car. He looked around his garage before finally finding you outside of it.

“Y/n L/n?” Max asked as his eyes blinked a few times, clearly not believing what he saw. 

“Max” You replied, confirming it was in fact you. 

“Do you two know each other?” Annalese asked, her eyes moving from you to Max, and back to you.

“Yeah, uh, we were childhood…” You trailed off, not sure how to label your distaste for Max

“Classmates. We were in grade school together” The driver spoke. He walked from his spot beside his car towards the entrance to the garage, stopping only a few feet away from where you and Annalese were. “What are you doing here?” 

The camera in your hand seemed to grow heavier as you lifted it. “Photography. Ferrari hired me for the season” You explained, Max’s ears perking up in response. 

“Yeah, she’s the best one we’ve had in a while.” Annalease said before patting you on the shoulder, “Well I’ll leave the two of you alone to catch up”

You opened your mouth to protest both of her statements, but by the time you figured out how, she had disappeared into the Ferrari garage next door. Max was still looking at you as you turned your head back to him. As quickly as you met his eyes, you lost them as yours searched the area looking for something to talk about. 

When your eyes landed on his car, you spoke. “So number one, huh?” 

“Yeah, it’s still kind of unreal” He admitted, looking back at his car before turning back to look at you. You could tell Max was analyzing you, just as you did to him before he noticed your presence on pit lane. “So Ferrari photographer, huh?” 

A small smile crept onto your lips as you moved your camera away from your chest, revealing the team logo. “Yeah, it was a big step from what I’ve done in the past, but I hope it was the right one.” 

Max opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by one of his engineers. He turned to face the garage before looking back at you. “I gotta go. Last minute stuff before testing. I’ll see you around”

“I’ll see you around” You repeated before the two of you turned, making your way to your respective garages. 

Melbourne, Australia 

The early sunrise crept through your blinds, signaling it was time to get up. While you didn’t have much to do until media day tomorrow, you wanted to take advantage of traveling all around the world. 

After freshening up and changing into your bright red windbreaker, you creaked open your hotel door. It was still early, and you did not want to be the reason why the rest of the team woke up grumpy. The door shut silently behind you as you turned to find the elevators. 

“What are you doing up?” You heard, causing you to jump out of your skin. Down the hall was Max, leaving his hotel just as you were. 

“And what are you doing going around scaring people who are getting up?” You asked as you walked down the hall towards him and the elevators. 

He shrugged “I didn’t mean to. But seriously, no one except me is usually up this early. What are you doing out?”

“Going sightseeing.” You answered. You could hear the hum of the elevator from behind the doors. “What are you doing?” 

“Morning run,” He answered. “Why are you going sightseeing? It’s just a race weekend”

“Yeah, and it’s just my first time on the other side of the world” You chuckled. “How many times have you been to Melbourne?” 

“Uh I think six now?” He answered, though it sounded more like a question

The elevator dinged as the doors parted ways. Max followed you into the car as you hit the lobby button. 

“Six times, and how many times have you taken the opportunity to explore?” You asked. He was silent, the stare at the wall told you everything you needed to know. “Exactly.” 

Max was silent for a moment before finally admitting “I just never really knew where to go” 

“Come with me” You suggested, catching yourself off guard at your own idea. He despised you as a kid, there was no chance he would even think of saying yes. Max’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at you. 

“What?” He asked, confused 

You had every opportunity to say literally anything else, forget that you even thought about hanging out with him. But there was something about the driver, maybe it was the glint in his eye, that prompted you to repeat “Come with me. See the city with me.” 

Max had never been one to cover his emotions, but standing there in the elevator with him, you had no idea what he was thinking. Seconds felt like hours as you waited for his response.

“Fine” He sighed as the elevator opened to the lobby “I can postpone my run a little bit.” 

You couldn’t help but to crack a small smile as the two of you walked out onto the streets of Melbourne. The phone in your hands guided you down the block to your destination. 

“Where are we even going?” Max asked, trailing behind you slightly “You better not be leading me somewhere sketchy”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. We’re going to graffiti alley” You told him. It had been a place you had dreamed of visiting ever since you started spray painting. 

Max stopped in his tracks, a new worry spread across his face. “Graffiti alley? Are you…?” His voice trails off as his eyes glance to your bag. He knew you were always one to express yourself through artwork, but he refused to be linked to any of it. 

“What? No. I mostly paint on canvas now. Besides, I wouldn’t want to cover anyone else’s work.” You answered 

Max didn’t know what to think. It had been years since he had spent more than five minutes with you, and most of that time was spent arguing or trying to annoy the hell out of you. But there he was, taking in the sight of you navigating through the hustle and bustle of Melbourne. You had grown up, just like he had, but unlike his wavering admiration for driving, your dedication to the arts never faltered. As you admired and captured the artwork spray painted along the brick of the buildings in the alleyway, he found his eyes landing on you more often. 

======

Race day could have gone better. While Charles finished on the topstep of the podium, both Carlos and Max were forced to retire. When the cars weren’t speeding past you on the track, you couldn’t help but to look at the photos you had taken earlier in the race. They were good but none of them truly stood out to you. 

Once the race concluded, you sprinted down pit lane towards parc ferme, where you happened to run into Max. 

“Hey! I’m sorry about the car. I’m sure you’ll get it next time” You said

“Yeah, I’m sure. But next time I’m not exploring the city with you” He replied, his voice lacking any emotion

As much as you wanted to ask him what he meant, you knew you had a job to do. Instead of pestering the man, you simply shrugged and continued your laboring sprint down to the cars. 

Miami, USA

Just like all those years ago, Max was right. 

The next time the twenty drivers met on the grid was Imola, where he finished on top of the podium. And sure enough, he did it without exploring the town with you. He was able to sneak through the paddock in Italy without seeing you once. It helped that neither of the Ferrari boys made it onto the podium with him.

But Miami was a different story. It was the first time Formula One made a stop in the 305, so it was no surprise that the media wanted to cover every step that each of these drivers took. Luckily for you, your job wasn’t with McLaren. You swore to have seen those boys in bedazzled crop tops and whispering to the tarmac with James Corden. Your job was just to cover Charles, something you’ve done all season. Unfortunately for you, when Charles wasn’t in the Ferrari garage, there was a high chance he was yapping to Max.

Charles had excused himself into the motorhome for a moment, leaving you and Max alone in the paddock. 

“Congrats on Imola” You said as soon as your coworker disappeared. “Shame you didn’t get to see the city. it was gorgeous” 

“Yeah, I had a lot of pre race prep to do.” He claimed. The glint in his eyes said otherwise. “But thanks, it was good to be back on the podium. It was way too long.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head to look at him. “Didn’t you win in Saudi Arabia?” 

Max chuckled before taking a sip of the Red Bull that was in his hand “I did. But still, it’s been way too long.” 

It was no secret that Max held himself to an extremely high standard. Even back in his karting days, you knew that if he didn’t win, he’d be training bright and early the next day. But you had a feeling there was something more to it that Max only let on through the way his expression hardened after the stifled laugh. 

It took everything in you to bite your tongue. The urge to pester him about what he really truly meant lumped in your throat, but you quickly swallowed it back down when you heard Charles leaving the motorhome. 

======

The Ferrari garages were buzzing as both of their drivers locked out the front row, and you were sure to capture the smiles on everyone’s faces going into the race. 

The hot Miami sun beat down on your neck as the smell of burning rubber filled the air. From the video screen you had seen Max had overtaken Carlos, giving you no surprise when you spotted his blue Red Bull creeping behind the Ferrari in first. 

Following in the footsteps of the other photographers, you lifted your camera to your face as the engine roars grew ever so slightly. As the cars made their way around the bend, you, along with the rest of the photographers, captured the battle in front of you.

Charles had put on a show defensively through the first eight laps, giving you plenty of photos that told the story of the fight. As the race egged on though, it was clear that Max was in the faster car. 

By the time you got to pit lane, Max had already crossed the finish line. However he was so far ahead it took a few more seconds to even get sight of Charles and Carlos behind him. When you did, one of the engineers helped you lean out of the pit fence to capture the moments the teammates crossed the finish line. 

Both the Red Bull and the Ferrari garages had a new life to them as all four of the drivers finished in the top four. Along with the engineers, you sprinted down to Parc ferme to celebrate with the sea of red. 

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you finally reached the end of pit lane. Annalese stationed herself by the “3” sign on the right side of Parc ferme, while you squatted by the “2”. As all three cars pulled into their respective spots, camera clicks and cheers filled your ears.

======

Although the two teams were rivals on the track, off of it the teams rarely had bad blood. The Grand Prix after party was no different. Most of your night was spent with Annalese, Charles, and Carlos, but you occasionally found yourself mingling with the other drivers team staff. 

As the night drew on and more drinks filled your system, you could feel the effects of the liquor take place. While the first few drinks you had filled your body with a sense of euphoria, the crash that happened after having more wasn’t worth the high. 

You had excused yourself from the Ferrari group, and you found yourself a secluded booth in the club as your heart sank. It had been at least a few years since you last felt the churning of your stomach, the echoes of your former friends filling your head. 

What were you doing in a club in Miami with a bunch of racecar drivers? This wasn’t the place for you. You should be back in your hometown barely scraping by as everyone around you fulfilled their dreams. You shouldn’t be here. 

The club around you moved in slow motion as you drowned in your thoughts. Every time you thought you were reaching the surface, another wave crashed down and filled your lungs. 

A body sat down across the table from you, but you couldn’t find a way to look up. A muffled voice droned on, though you couldn’t attach a name to either.

It wasn’t until you felt a hand on yours that you snapped out of the fog you were in. Max was sitting across from you, with his hand holding yours. His eyes were intense as he looked at you, genuine concern painted all over his face. 

“Are you okay?” He asked

You shifted in your seat, softly nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine” Your voice wavered more than you would’ve liked.

Max picked up on it as he argued a simple “No you’re not. I’m walking you back to the hotel” 

Before you could protest and claim you were fine, Max had already stood up, taking your hand with him. He led you through the crowd out to the humid Miami night. He respected you enough to not ask what was wrong, but giving you the space to talk if need be.

Neither of you said a word as you walked the few blocks to the hotel, but the silence was enough. His hand never left yours as he navigated the city, eventually leading you to the corner the hotel towered on. 

A thank you left your lips as he walked you to your door. You unlocked the door and began to walk in as Max went on his way to his own. The thoughts from the club still lingered in your mind as you watched him leave. Exhaustion from the long day mixed with your foggy state of mind engulfed you.

“Do you think I belong here?” You asked the man down the hall. Max stopped and turned around to face you.

“Well, do you think you do?” He asked, retracing his footsteps back to your door.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned up against the cold door frame. “Honestly? I don’t know.” 

Max simply pushed open the cracked door, guiding you inside. You didn’t need to be stone cold sober to figure out what he was saying. Disappearing to the bathroom, you changed out of your little black dress into an oversized Ferrari hoodie and lounge shorts.  He was sitting on the edge of your bed, his eyes lingering on you as you joined him. 

The bed was softer than you remembered, but your senses were still fuzzy. 

“I’m not meant to be here” You blurted out. “That’s why I was out of it at the club, just getting in my own head.” 

Max was quiet as he took in your words. He knew better than to chime in, you needed to rant, and he was going to give you the space to do so, though he couldn’t wrap his head around why you chose him of all people.

“It’s hard, y’know? Seeing all your friends graduating from university and getting real careers. I tried it - couldn’t even make it through the first semester though. Don’t know why I thought I could do it when I barely graduated grade school” You admitted, running your hand through your hair as you talked

It may have been the drinks you had, but you could’ve sworn Max looked at you with a sense of pity. Even with balancing the challenges that karting brought, he had always been the top of the class, acing every subject that was thrown at him. 

“You still have a real career though” Max finally spoke “You’re doing photography for the most well known team in Formula One. People would kill to have your job”

A scoff left your mouth as you laid back into your bed, allowing the plush mattress to consume you. “Try telling my friends that.” 

Max’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to face you “Do they not support you?” 

As much as you loved your friends, they were confused as to why you would want to abandon traditional schooling. They constantly doubted your talent, and ultimately thought running away to join F1 was silly. 

“It's complicated” You paused. “They’re happy I’m living my dream right now, but they just don’t understand why it’s my dream.”

Max couldn’t help but chuckle, causing you to sit up. “Sorry, it’s not funny, just a little something I didn’t think you’d be able to relate to.” 

While you didn’t know much about the Verstappen family,not that you tried to know anything, you were aware that Jos was a former Formula One driver. You were clueless about his record, or if he even won a race, but you deduced he wasn’t a World Champion. 

Before you could ask what he meant, Max spoke again “I do think you belong here though” 

Your voice was barely a whisper as you asked “You do?” 

He nodded, placing his hand on your shoulder, “Yeah, I do. I’ve uh… seen a few of your photos on the Ferrari socials and I think they’re incredible.” 

“Really?” You asked, your eyes meeting his 

Max nodded “Really. The way you captured the fight between Charles and I today was insane.” 

“Thank you, Max. It’s just hard when there’s so many other talented and more experienced photographers all around.” 

His hand moved from your shoulder down to your hip, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him. “If you weren’t this good at photography, you wouldn’t be here. F1 is for the best of the best, regardless of the job” 

A smile crept on your lips as you took in Max’s words. Once again, he was right. If you weren’t a great photographer, you wouldn’t have the job you do. A soft “thank you” escaped your lips before a yawn shortly followed. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed”

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Since that night in Miami, Max had been friendly.

The two of you had exchanged numbers in Spain, just in case you had another onset. Though you hadn’t felt the need to reach out, Max made sure you were comfortable in the paddock.

Whenever he saw you, he would go out of his way to say hi and catch up. Even if he was preoccupied and couldn’t say anything to you, he would make sure that he gave you a wave. You found him walking down pit lane more than usual, his eyes usually dancing around the Ferrari garages, as if he was looking for something, or rather someone. 

And when he did find you in the garage, you knew you were in for at least a thirty minute conversation. Topics ranged from his cats to any recent artworks you’ve done. Max insisted that it was because the two of you were “garage neighbors” and he wanted to make you feel welcome in the paddock. Just two childhood enemies slowly getting to know each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Though as the days in the paddock wore on, you found yourself looking forward to the interactions with Max. His visits were one of the only constants in the craziness of a race weekend. 

“What was that all about?” Charles asked as he watched Max leave his garage for the third time that day. 

“Oh nothing,” You answered, a small smile forming on your lips as you grabbed your camera from the table it had been sitting on “Just Max Veryappen doing his thing.”

Charles laughed, allowing you to snap a beautiful photo of the Monegasque. “He’s started ranting to you too? Good luck soldier” 

As you worked more with Charles, the more you found that you were alike. Both of you had an appreciation for the arts, and now were the victims to what the fans called “maxplaining”. 

“It’s not that bad” You replied, crouching down to get a good angle of Charles’ car. “He’s a nice guy.” 

The only sounds came from the clanking of metal in Carlos’ garage next door and the clicks of your camera. The silence was comfortable, both you and Charles knowing there was no bad blood about either of you choosing not to talk. 

“Waaiiit a second” Charles started, the wheels in his head turning slowly. “I thought you and Max hated each other as kids. How did you get to this?” 

A groan escaped your mouth, a result of the question and your knees flaring up as you stood up. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask” 

You recounted the events of that night in Miami, excluding your bout of imposter syndrome, playing it off as you being “out of it”. Charles listened intently as you told your story, a smirk forming on his lips as you finished. 

“So let me get this straight: Max willingly left the club early to walk you back to your hotel?” He asked 

“Yeah, that sums it up” You shrugged 

“And now he’s being all friendly and yapping your ears off multiple times a day?” He asked 

“Yes” You answered “Charles what are you getting at?” 

“He totally likes you” He said, his smirk from earlier now turning into a full blown grin

“What? Ew. No.” You physically had to take a step back from the driver, as if he was Max. “Max is just a friend.” 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that” Charles spoke as he left the garage, knowing he was running late for a meeting

======

The race could not have been worse if you tried. From a front row lockout being torn away by multiple delays - including a red flag - and poor strategy decisions, the best Charles could do was fourth.

Rainwater sloshed in your shoes as you climbed the stairs to the paddock club. Fans were huddled inside to escape the rain during the third delay of the day. Any attempts to capture photos were futile as your camera lens was littered with raindrops. 

“I just know both of them are fuming down there,” Annalese said as you joined her on the balcony that overlooked pit lane. The two of you watched both Ferrari cars pull into their garages as the red flag waved. 

“Oh my god yeah, this was not how Charles was expecting his home race to go.” You replied, finally choosing to cap your lens

“The poor guy can’t catch a break,” She agreed

“And I know for a fact Max is down there throwing a fit. He always does when something doesn’t go his way.” You laughed motioning to the Red Bull garage. The image of  the driver complaining about the weather or claiming that Mick can’t drive caused you to shake your head. 

“Speaking of Max, what’s he been doing lurking around Ferrari?” Annalese asked

“Did Charles tell you to ask me about this? He was on my ass yesterday,” You joked “But it’s nothing. Max and I have just become friends. That’s all” 

“Oh really?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows 

“Will you stop?” You replied, a smile on your lips as you playfully flicked your boss’ arm. “There is nothing going on. I promise” 

“Well if there is, you better be the first one to tell me” She said, poking your side 

You quickly swatted her finger away, “You’ll be the first one to know.” 

While you didn’t get the chance to make it to the podium celebration, Max made it his mission to see you after the race. After scoping out the garage next door, he found you leaving the Ferrari motorhome, prepping to go back to the hotel for the night. 

“Hey y/n,” He said as you walked out into the night 

Your ears perked up as the sound of your name and your eyes landed on the Red Bull driver that stood at the bottom of the stairs.“Oh hey Max. Congrats on the podium” 

“Thanks” He said, a grin forming “It was a shitty race, but somehow managed a Red Bull double podium. How’s Charles been?” 

It was no secret that the Monegasque was always hard on himself, especially when driving through the grandstands he saw built every year as a kid. Just like any other driver, he wanted to win, and when a win slips from his grasp, he takes it personally.

“He’s uh, okay” You said, the memory of you consoling the driver replaying in your mind. “You probably know how he is better than anyone”

“He’s a tough kid, I’m sure he’ll be fine” Max assured you 

Relief washed over you when you realized he was heading the same way you were. The two of you made your way through the empty paddock, as most of the workers had left hours ago. Times like this made you thankful for street races, as your hotel was only a few blocks away. 

“Are you going out to celebrate tonight? I overheard Carlos saying he was going to Jimmy’z” You said 

Max shook his head “After how long today took? No. I’m going home and spending some time with my cats. What about you? Are you joining the team?”

“After what happened in Miami? No.” You laughed, though Max knew it wasn’t a joke. “I have a nice date with my bed, room service, and some shitty romcom” 

“Oh how romantic” Max joked, though secretly thanking the heavens you had no other plans. As he got to know you over the past few races, he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you. 

“Shut it Verstappen.” Daggers shot from your gaze as you spoke, though you still had a smile on your lips “It’s not like I have anything else to do” 

A strange feeling curdled in Max’s stomach as he processed your words. 

“Come with me then.” Max blurted out without thinking, causing your head to snap towards him, surprise in your eyes. You weren’t sure if you heard him right. There was no way Max Verstappen invited you over to his place. 

“I’m sure Jimmy and Sassy would love to meet you. We can order takeout and watch your romcoms or whatever” Max continued, his eyes softening.

“Come with you?” You asked, taken back by his hospitality

“Yeah, you can meet the cats and show me the photos you took today,” Max said, motioning to the camera bag that was slung over your shoulder

“If you insist, though I don’t have any photos of you if that’s what you’re looking for” You said as you shook your head

“Fine by me” Max said as he led you off the smooth pavement of the paddock to the bumpy cobblestone streets of Monte Carlo.

Spielberg, Austria

The Red Bull Ring was scary. 

The second you entered the paddock, the feeling of a target being painted on your back lingered. Not that you did anything to deserve the feeling, the bright red of your shirt was enough to prompt the remarks. 

Somehow, it could have been worse. The words thrown at you were nothing compared to what Charles and Carlos had to endure. Mentions of their families, friends, and other loved ones filled your ears as you followed the duo down the paddock and into the Ferrari hospitality. 

“God that was brutal” Carlos said once the doors were fully closed 

“Are you guys okay?” You asked, your eyes darting back and forth between them. Normally the yelling you heard when clocking in for work were terms of endearment, not hoping for their downfall.

Charles ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed “Yeah, Austria is always tough with the fans. It’s nothing new” 

“Gotcha. I’m here if you need anything” You said, though your eyes darted to the doors the three of you just walked through. “Except now. I gotta go run to the garage” 

You could hear the two teammates laugh as you exited the building, finding yourself back in the thick of the commotion. Once out of the heat of the “fans”, you found a quiet spot off to the side of the Ferrari motorhome and took out a pad of paper from your bag. 

It wasn’t a complete lie that you had to go to the pits - there were always photos to be taken no matter what time of day. But you had a slightly different task that you wanted to accomplish before getting yelled at by the mechanics for getting in their way. 

Ferrari had announced that they would be doing a special livery for the Italian Grand Prix this year. While it wasn’t uncommon for the team to slightly deviate from the solid red paint for their home race, it was special that they made it a contest. All employees were allowed to submit an entry, and the best one would be brought to life on the car. 

So, on your notepad you sketched out the shape of the Formula One car, practically by memory. You had tried a few different ideas since the contest was announced, ranging from the Italian flag to all black, but none of them ever seemed just right. 

You scribbled away at a new concept, choosing to play into the yellow and touches of green in the Ferrari logo. With every stroke of the colored pencil, you would move your head back to take a look at your work. And with every stroke, you hated the livery design more and more. It didn’t help that it looked less and less like a Ferrari car and more and more like Senna’s helmet. 

It eventually got to the point where the design was so outlandish, you wanted it in the trash. Crumpling up the paper, you aimed for the waste bin a few feet away, only for it to hop off the rim and land on the pavement. 

A groan escaped your lips as you realized your error in judgment. Before you could stand up to take care of the litter, a pair of dark blue and white shoes stood next to it. 

“Need some help?” A lisp asked. Sure enough, Max stood next to the trash can, bending over to pick up the crumpled paper. “Are you trying to pick up basketball as a hobby now too?” 

You rolled your eyes as a playful smile formed on your lips. “No, Max. I was just trying to throw something away” 

He refused to acknowledge why, but there was something about the way you said his name that made his head fog up. It was like the feeling he got back in Monaco, but still something he had never fully understood. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he spoke. 

“What’re you even getting rid of anyway?” Max asked

“It’s nothing - it’s just - don’t worry about it” You stuttered out in futile attempts

He had already unraveled the crumpled paper, causing a warmth to rush to your cheeks. You were never one to share your artwork with anyone unless you were one hundred percent proud of it. But there you were, hopelessly sitting on a concrete curb as Max took in the monstrosity that was your doodle. 

Max thought the artwork was truly something out of a gallery. The way the green and yellow flowed together while still popping individually amazed him. 

“Is this a special livery?” He finally asked after what felt like years of silence

“It’s just a mock up” You quickly dismissed. “Ferrari is doing a contest for its workers for a special livery for Monza”

“I think it’s really cool” He said, his eyes not leaving the page. No one other than your art teachers growing up had looked at your work with such intensity. 

“Really?” You asked, shocked that someone would even like it. Max finally tore his gaze from the piece of paper to your eyes. When he did, you swore your heart skipped a beat. Blaming it on the nerves of someone unexpectedly viewing your art, you pushed the thoughts away. “I don’t think it’s bad, it just isn’t my style”

“If your style is the same from childhood, then no, it’s not” Max agreed “But I do think it’s good.” 

“Thank you” You managed to peep out. Receiving compliments about your work was never one of your strong suits, though the night in Max’s apartment seemed to help. As you flipped through the photos on your camera that night, he would praise every single one. You had convinced yourself he had done it just to be nice.

“You still do graffiti, right?” Max asked, taking a seat next to you on the curb 

“Yeah, but nowhere near as much as I used to,” You admitted. As much as you loved sneaking around the town in your teens, you were too old to risk getting caught and put behind bars. 

“Why don’t you try doing something with that?” He suggested “It would definitely catch the eyes of the higher ups” 

The thought of going back to your graffiti roots intrigued you. You weren’t sure how you were going to get street art onto a racing car, but it was a challenge you were willing to tackle. 

“Honestly, that’s not a bad idea, thank you” You said, standing up “Now I gotta go actually do my job, but I’ll definitely keep you updated.”

As you started to walk away, Max remembered why he sought out to find you in the first place. 

“Y/n, wait” He called 

You turned around to see Max quickening his pace to catch up to you. “What’s up?” 

“I uh, wanted to apologize” He said, slightly catching his breath “For the fans. I know they can be a lot sometimes” 

“I appreciate it. But I know it’s out of your control. Every fanbase is going to have the handful that takes it too far.” You replied. It was definitely tough being on the receiving end of it all, but you knew it was out of love for the driver. 

A smile formed on Max’s face, thankful that you understood. “I’m planning on making a statement by the end of the day. I know it’s taken a toll on a lot of the drivers and their teams” 

“Thank you Max. You’re doing the right thing” 

======

As the weekend went on, the comments from the crowd lessened. Max had posted a statement after practice, just as he said he would, and it seemed to work. 

What didn’t lessen though was the mushy feeling Max got whenever he saw you. 

He couldn’t describe it exactly. It’s like he wanted to be with you more, regardless of how much time you two spent together. His mind kept replaying the night he invited you over in Monaco. 

The way Jimmy rubbed up against your legs the second you walked in the door while Sassy observed you from afar, warming up to you only an hour later. The way your face lit up when Max asked to see the photos that you took from the race, even if they were all of Charles, Ferrari, and the cars in the pouring rain. 

And the way you explained the thought process behind each photo? Max could have listened to that for hours. He didn’t know a damn thing about lighting or the rule of thirds, but he was going to learn if it meant he could hear your voice. 

Max didn’t know what to call it. The funny feeling that made his stomach bubble up to his throat. He could tell it was the same feeling that clouded his mind, making everything just a little bit foggy when you were around, but also clear as daylight at the same time. 

Charles, however, knew exactly what to call it. When he saw Max first start poking around near the Ferrari garages just a little too often, he knew something was up. So, he decided to do what he does best, and pry. Fortunately, Max had left a can of his favorite drink in the Ferrari pit, giving Charles the perfect excuse.

“Hey, uh I think you left your Red Bull in my garage” Charles said as he walked down towards Max’s

“What? Oh, thanks. I was looking for it” Max said, taking the can before cracking it open

Charles leaned up against one of the support beams, fighting the urge to smirk “What were you even doing there anyway?”

Max shook his head, dismissing the question “Nothing, just catching up with some people” 

“Some people? You mean y/n?” Charles asked 

“Yeah, I mean, she’s a person too, isn’t she?” Max countered, confused why his friend was pressing him

“We both know she’s not just a person. Whenever she’s even remotely nearby, you’re right behind her like a lost puppy” 

“I do not” Max protested, knowing it was in vain

“So what are you going to do about it?” Charles asked 

“Do about what?” Max countered, refusing to fall victim to what Charles was trying to do

“Do about your feelings towards y/n” Charles replied. 

Before Max could think of a reason as to why he wouldn’t have any feelings towards you, his phone went off. 

DING!

Max first ignored it, thinking it was something from the team, and turned his attention back to Charles. 

“I don’t have feelings for -“

DING! DING! 

Two more notifications came through, prompting the Dutchman to pick up his phone. When he did, his heart stopped. 

You: Max 

You: I did it 

You: I think I created the perfect livery

======

You couldn’t find Charles anywhere, no matter where you looked. Hospitality? Nope. The garage? Not there. His driver’s room? Empty. Pierre’s garage? You honestly don’t even know why you checked there. 

As you couldn’t find the one singular person you needed to do your job, you took the opportunity to draw. You found a secluded area in the Ferrari hospitality to get to work. 

Instead of the bright yellow and green you chose earlier, this time you opted for the standard red, black and white. Your colored pencils moved freely across the sketch of the car, you didn’t need to think where to go. Your body just knew. 

Even though you didn’t have your hands on a can of spray paint, it felt right to get back into the thick of it. As much as you hated to admit it, you had to thank Max for the idea. You loved graffiti, but you didn’t think it would fit a Formula One car. But there you sat, finally looking at a livery concept that you were proud to have made. 

Your eyes drifted to your phone that was sitting only a few inches away from the paper. The memory of Max practically demanding to put his number in your phone after the whole Miami incident replayed in your mind. Should you? You two were now friends, right? It’s not weird for friends to text each other, right? The questions made your head hurt. Why were you getting nervous about texting your friend about an idea he came up with? 

Somehow, you shook the doubts of him making fun of you from your mind, and picked up the phone, sending your message. 

As you set your phone down, you couldn’t help but reminisce about that night in Monaco. Max welcomed you with open arms to his apartment, sharing a part of his life you never thought you’d get to see. You admired the way he cared for both of his cats, the two of them were his world, pampering them whenever he got the chance. And the way he listened to you ramble on about your silly little photos, knowing damn well he didn’t give a shit about your camera settings or how to get the best angle on track. 

It was nice to have someone to talk to outside of racing. As much as you loved the sport, it was hard that it took over your entire life. Any time your family called, all you could talk about was the most recent race, or where you’re traveling to next. Being able to talk to Max about something as simple as your photos was almost comforting. 

DING!

Your head snapped to your phone, and sure enough, he had responded. 

Max: Great! Can’t wait to see it :)

======

Once again, the race led to a battle for first between Charles and Max. You knew both of the guys did this for a living, but you were still amazed how effortless they were as they fought for the top step of the podium. While you didn’t know what problems Max was facing in the car, you knew through the many radio complaints that Charles was struggling with his. 

Even with the problems, the Monegasque managed to come out on top. You got to Parc ferme in the nick of time to get into position as Charles pulled into the center spot. Max pulled in on the left, and Hamilton on the right. 

The click of your camera was measly compared to the roars echoing behind you from the team as Charles stepped onto the car, fist in the air in celebration. You followed him, snapping a few photos as he hopped to the ground and ran to the engineers. From the way they embraced the driver, you would have thought it was his first ever win. It was a hard fought race, and Charles deserved every moment of euphoria. 

Before you knew it, Charles had gone to the stand where his hat and water were. The helmet and balaclava were soon off, as he replaced it with his cap. You snapped a few photos as you knew someone from the socials team would post it for the girlies. Backing up to get a better shot, you felt your body press up against someone. 

“I am so sorry” You said, turning around. That someone happened to be Max. He was sweaty, his face beat red and hair all messed up, but somehow he never looked better. The thought of taking his photo then and there crossed your mind, but you refrained as you felt a warmth on your cheeks. “Congrats on P2” 

“Thanks” He replied, slowly finding his breathing

“Now get over there with your boyfriends” You joked as you pointed to Charles and Lewis who were already in conversation about the race. 

The Dutchman made his way over to the other drivers, and you snapped photos as he congratulated Charles on the win. You couldn’t hear what was said between the two of them, but they glanced at you before Charles broke out in laughter as Max’s face turned even more red than before. 

A smile formed on your lips as you looked through your viewfinder and focused on the two boys. Parc ferme and podium were always your favorite part of the race, as the pure joy from the driver’s accomplishments always seemed to radiate through your photos. 

You were able to squeeze yourself into the perfect spot front and center for the ceremony. Though the barrier dug into your side, it was a small price to pay for the photos you got. 

A few photos were snapped of Lewis when he walked out to ensure that your settings were just right, but as Max was announced, you couldn’t help but put your camera down and watch. His piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd for something, focusing when he finally found you. 

He didn’t know why he was searching for you, it just felt right. 

Maranello, Italy

The plan was to spend summer break back in the Netherlands. 

But that was all before you got the call that your design had been chosen for the Monza livery. 

Now, your break was spent in the factory in Maranello, painting the livery yourself. The livery designers figured it would be easier for you to do the work yourself, rather than fall flat on their attempts to replicate the art.

You didn’t mind it at all. In fact, you were ecstatic that you were able to paint the car yourself. It had been a while since you had a can of spray paint in your hand, and you were itching to graffiti again. 

The downside to constantly being in the factory though was that it was mostly just you. While the engineers popped in occasionally to say hi and see what you were up to, none of them were people you were super close with. 

Annalese and a few of the girls from the social team stopped in before you even touched the car, hoping for a promotional opportunity. They had bought you a white tarp that you spray painted the Ferrari logo on, hanging it on the wall. 

With the graffiti in the background, you snapped photos of spray paint cans littered around the blank bodywork, and the social team took no time posting it on all of their accounts. 

When their job was done, they left, eager to enjoy their summer break. Turning around, you were faced with the daunting task at hand: painting two Formula one cars that were going to be out on the track in a matter of weeks. 

The bodywork in front of you seemed to come to life, as the engine intake hole glared at you. It was as if the car was daring you to try to touch it. What were you doing about to paint a racing car? You weren’t qualified for this, not too long ago your canvases were literal brick walls. 

The temptation to call Annalese and make up some lie about why you couldn’t do the livery anymore grew. You picked up your phone, ready to make the call, only to find a text. 

It wasn’t unusual. Ever since you texted about the livery, the two of you were in almost constant communication. Whether it was racing, the cats, or what movies you had been watching, you guys always had something to say. But as it turns out, you seemed to forget to tell Max a small piece of information. 

Max: Y/n Y/l/n. 

Max: What is this? 

Attached to the text was a screenshot of the post that Ferrari had made, teasing about the livery.

Max: Tell me this means what I think it means 

You were tempted to mess with him and lie. Say that you had no idea what the post was about and someone else won the contest. He would definitely see right through you, so your fingers hovered over the “call” button, pressing it before you could think twice. 

Max thought he was dreaming. It started with seeing the familiar Ferrari logo graffitied on a bed sheet. Now, after a series of texts, your contact is the one trying to call him. He let a few rings go by to collect himself before clearing his throat and answering.

“Hello?” He asked, praying that the pounding of his heartbeat wasn’t heard from the other end

“Surprise?!” You replied, your voice showing the small smile on your face

Max sat up in his sim chair, his attention fully focused on you “So you did it? You won?” 

“Yeah, I’m in the factory right now about to start” You said, the pit in your stomach growing again

“That’s exciting! How’re you feeling?” Max asked 

A sigh escaped your lips, just audible enough for him to hear over the phone. “Nervous. I don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“You’ll be fine” He said

“But what if I mess up” 

“You won’t.” He reassured. He knew you were a natural when it came to art. No matter the canvas, you’d make it work. “Treat it as if it were a wall or ramp. Something you’re used to spray painting.” 

“Okay” You said, your voice now down to a whisper. Silence overcame the two of you as you debated what to do next. The bodywork in front of you was still intimidating, but having Max on the other end of the line seemed to help a little. “Do you think you could stay on the call while I start? Just for a little confidence boost?”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything else” Max said, his smile even wider than before.

Both of your hearts were pounding out of your chests, nerves swarming your systems for very different reasons. Out of all the people in the world, you had picked Max to calm yourself. Something neither of you would have imagined twelve years ago. Through the speaker, Max could hear the sound of a can rattle, then the spray of its contents. Then, silence. 

“It’s started” You finally spoke

======

As summer break wore on and you spent more time on the livery, the calls with Max became more frequent. It all started with just wanting someone to talk to so you weren’t completely alone with your thoughts, but it quickly grew to you wanting to specifically talk to Max, learn about his day and everything going on in your life. In short, his voice quickly became your favorite sound. 

And Max wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He always loved talking to you. So much in fact, he gave you a specific ringtone so he could ignore all of the other notifications that rolled in. 

Every time the two of you called, staying up way later than either of you would have liked, the warm fuzzy feeling Max got intensified. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he did have something for you, though he wouldn’t dare acknowledge it by its full legal name. 

Little did he know, on the other end of the line, the same thoughts were racing through your head. He was your comfort as you navigated through the challenge of painting the cars. He was the face you always looked for when you ran around the paddock. He was the person you wanted to be with. 

Twelve year old you would have thought you were crazy if you told her you were crushing on Max Verstappen. He was a bully, a pain in your butt, the worst person you knew. But as a twelve year old you didn’t know that people change. You had, and so did Max. He grew into someone you admire. 

The Netherlands

As much as you loved being in Italy, you were glad to finally have a few days visiting your family in the Netherlands. The Belgian and Dutch Grand Prixs were back to back, and both were close enough for you to spend the two weeks in your childhood home. 

The biggest perk to being home had to be the family dinners. You missed the hearty home cooked stick to your ribs dinners that your mother made, and the memories that were created around the dinner table. Of course, the conversation was never dull either. Tonight’s topic? A certain Dutchman. 

“So, have you seen Max at all at work?” Your mother asked. She was aware of your childhood rivalry with him, but you failed to update her on any of the recent developments. Your mother was convinced the two of you would eventually become close, and you were scared she would blow it out of proportion.

Picking at your food on your plate, you answered “Uh yeah, actually. We’ve seen each other a lot. He’s become a really good friend” 

Your mother’s eyes lit up as your words hit her ears . “Oh really? I’m so glad. You know I always thought the two of you were meant for each other-”

“I know, mama. You reminded me almost everyday” You said, half joking

“You know he’s in town, right?” Your father asked “I saw Jos earlier today and he mentioned he was visiting family for the week. Same thing you are.” 

As you registered what your father said, your head snapped up from your plate. “Really? He’s here?” 

“Why are you so excited? Do you have a crushhhh?” Your little sister teased

“What? No” You lied, silently praying you were convincing enough “I’m just surprised he didn’t mention that he’d be home. That’s all.” 

The dishes were done at a lightning speed. As your family was settling in the living room for their nightly routine of watching cringey game shows, you darted up to your room, grabbing your phone that rested on the bed. After a few rings, Max’s voice filled your room. 

“Hello?” 

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be home” You said, completely disregarding his greeting 

“You’re home too?” He asked

Before you knew it, you made plans to meet Max at the local ice cream shop. He had already gotten you a double scoop of your favorite flavor, something he had learned from the countless conversations you had. For once he wasn’t wearing any sort of Red Bull merch, and you couldn’t help but stare as you greeted him.

“Hey stranger” You said as you approached the table Max was at 

“Long time no see” He replied, handing you your bowl. “How’s everything?” 

“Good! I was able to finish the liveries before the end of summer break. As fun as it was, I’m glad it’s off my chest” You admitted 

“You take any photos of it?” He asked. It was a question you had heard countless times from him. Almost every single time you talked, he begged for a reveal of your artwork, and everytime you turned him down. It frustrated him to no end that you wouldn’t share, but you insisted that it needed to be a surprise for everyone not associated with Ferrari.

“Yes I did Max,” You answered, his face lighting up “No, you can’t see them” 

The smile on his face dropped a frown as he registered what you said “Why not?” 

“Because it’s classified information. If you wanted to see what it looks like early, you should’ve joined Ferrari” 

As the night drew on, the air got colder, prompting the two of you to go back to your childhood home. Your family greeted Max as if he was one of their own before you made your way up to your bedroom. 

The room Max walked into was honestly everything he had pictured it would be. Photographs and artwork that he presumed were yours covered the walls as an easel along with plenty of paint supplies tucked in the corner. 

“Sorry if it’s a bit crazy. I actually haven’t been in here much since I moved to Italy.” You said as you followed him into your room. 

“You don’t need to apologize. I like it” He said as his eyes took in everything

“Thanks. Make yourself comfy” 

Max didn’t waste any time as he plopped himself on your bed. You followed suit, placing yourself next to him, with just enough space in between you two. Every urge to rest up against him was fought, as he was doing the same. 

“If you had told me when we were kids that I’d be spending time in your childhood house, much less your room, I think I woulda puked” Max laughed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “We’ve come a long way since then”

You chuckled as you spoke “You’re telling me. I never thought I’d be excited that Max Verstappen came back to town.” 

“Funny how life works. Maybe we need to go to the old skatepark to see if your artwork is still there” He said 

“Maybe,” You paused as you looked at the framed photo of the Pac Man ghosts that hung on your wall. “Thank you, by the way.” 

Max’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to face you. “For what?” 

“For not calling the cops that one night when I was spray painting. If I was caught, I definitely would’ve gotten arrested” You admitted 

He knew you were right. If he had made the phone call instead of continuing on his run all those years ago, things would be different. Much different. 

“It’s nothing, really. You were just trying to express yourself. It’s not like you killed someone” Max finally said 

“True. Anyway, how’s being home been?” You asked, trying to think of anything to change the topic

“Pretty good. I’ve been mostly spending time with my mama. I rarely get to see her during the season, but she’s always been one of my biggest supporters.” He said, a soft smile playing on his lips

“What about your father? I feel like I see him at almost every race.” You said.

The second you finished the question, you wanted to stuff the words back in your mouth, swallow them, and pretend you hadn't said anything. Max’s eyes glossed over at the mention of his father as you cursed yourself for ever bringing him up. 

Cautiously, you placed your hand on top of his. Playful flicks and friendly hugs were common between you two, but you weren’t sure how he’d react to touching your hand, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to. If you don’t want to talk about it-”

“I don’t see him much outside of racing” Max said as he flipped his hand over to take yours. His calloused fingers brushed against the softness of yours. “He just really cares about the on track stuff.” 

You didn’t dare say anything, if you knew anything about learning the deeper parts of someone, it was to let people share when they’re ready. Your eyes lifted from looking at your hand being intertwined with Max’s, up to his face. His gaze was already focused on you. 

“It’s been tough.” He admitted “Living out my father’s dream. Having all of this pressure on me to perform well and exceed expectations. I just wanted to have fun racing around a track.” 

If there was anything else you knew about letting people share, it’s that you needed an out when they got a little too deep. From the way you spiraled yourself, you could tell Max was on the cliff edge, moments away from diving in. 

“I think you have” You spoke softly

“What do you mean?” Max asked, causing him to snap out of his dive at least temporarily 

“Let me show you” You said getting up from your spot on the bed. It stung a little as you dropped Max’s hand, but it would be worth it in a moment. 

You couldn’t find it at first. Max watched as your eyes darted around the room, searching for something. After a few seconds, the object became clear as day, though in front of it was your old red point and shoot camera. Moving the camera, you grabbed the old photo book that rested behind and returned to your spot next to Max.  

Max watched intently as you flipped through the book. Childhood memories were immortalized in the photos in front of him. What your old childhood photos had to do with him enjoying racing, he had no idea. 

Until you found the photo. 

“Is that me?” He asked. A young boy in a race suit with his hands in the air stared back at Max. There was a glimmer in the kid’s eyes that could be seen through the helmet on his head. The memory of Max getting mad at you for taking the photo was foggy in his mind, but the photo in front of him negated any doubt of it happening. 

“Yeah, it was the first time I took photos of racing” You admitted “I think we were both like twelve” 

He tore his eyes from the old photo of him back to you. “You kept it all these years?” 

You nodded as you took the photo out of its protective sleeve and gave it to Max. “It’s one of my favorite photos, but I want you to have it. I think you need it more than I do.” 

Max couldn’t believe what was happening as his heart was on the verge of exploding. Your favorite photo, which happened to be of him, was being gifted to him. The woman who dare he say has a crush on, kept a photo of him for the past twelve years. 

“Thank you” was all he managed to whisper

“Of course Max” You replied, taking his hand again

Zandvoort, The Netherlands 

Getting to the podium was all you wanted for the weekend. 

Regardless of who was on it or what national anthem was being played, you wanted to be at the podium of your home race. But as life, and your job, would have it, the podium was the last place you were needed. 

It all started with Charles’ team having to replace the entire power unit and gearbox, causing him to start at the back of the grid. He managed to finish in sixth which was big for the team, but still a long way away from being on a step. 

Carlos did make it to the bottom of the podium and after pestering a few of your coworkers, you convinced one of them to swap media duties with you. They covered Charles’ debrief while you took the podium. However, your coworker forgot to tell you he didn’t know how to do a driver debrief, so you were stuck with Charles.

What made it worse was that the winner happened to be the hometown boy. In the distance, you could hear the Dutch national anthem as you were stuck filming Charles’ PR written reasons for why the car was shit. 

Max assumed you were going to be swarmed with the celebrations, as you wouldn’t shut up about how much you wanted to be involved with them at your home Grand Prix. He couldn’t find you in parc ferme, assuming you got caught in the foot traffic. But as he took to the top step of the podium, he scanned the crowd, paying extra attention to the Ferrari team, only for you and your camera to be nowhere to be found. 

Both of you trudged through your post race routines, longing for a minute to see each other. As Max worked his way through the media pen, he couldn’t help but hope to get a glimpse of you. You hadn’t replied to his text, and he knew calls were out the window on race weekends. 

The sun had long set by the time the two of you were relieved of your duties. You made your way out of the Ferrari hospitality, eyes sore from staring at your laptop screen editing photos. As you made your way to your car, any sense of exhaustion washed away as you found Max in the parking lot. 

“Congrats” You yelled as you darted to him

Max stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice. Sure enough, as he turned around, you were jogging straight to him, arms wide open. He flung his open just in time to catch your hug. 

“Woah there, thank you” Max said, relieved that you were okay. “What’ve you been up to? I was looking for you all day” 

Max Verstappen had been looking for you all day. Taking a deep breath so your heart wouldn’t jump up out of your throat, you composed yourself and pulled away from him. Genuine concern played in his eyes. 

“I would’ve texted but I got so wrapped up with doing Charles’ post race media and then editing photos.” You sighed “I am so sorry I missed the podium. I truly wanted to see you… and hear the Dutch anthem again.” 

“You don’t need to apologize, hopefully you’ll hear it again before the season ends” He joked “In all seriousness, you’re all good.” 

Max paused, as if he was contemplating something. The sound of cicadas filled the warm summer air as Max debated with himself. After a few moments, he spoke again. 

“If you want to, and only if you want to, you can help celebrate by joining me out at the club tonight. Red Bull is going out to celebrate the win.” He offered 

It was your turn to have an internal argument. Going out with Max and celebrating his much deserved win sounded fun, but lingering in the back of your mind was Miami. 

“Fuck it” You blurted out, startling the driver “I’ll go, but I’m not drinking too much” 

“Deal. Let me know when you’re finished getting ready, and I’ll pick you up from your room.” He said, leading you to your car. 

You had never gotten ready faster in your life. Max was a patient person, but you absolutely hated making anyone wait for you. Sending him a quick text, you did once last look in the mirror. A quick knock was placed on your door, peeling you away from your reflection. 

When the door opened, Max felt his heartbeat slam on the accelerator. The shorts you were wearing were very short and the top didn’t leave much to the imagination. Not that he minded the change, it was just an outfit he didn’t expect you to wear. Outside of the bright red Ferrari polo and khakis, you mostly donned some sort of oversized shirt and sweats. Comfort was usually your top priority. 

The confidence you had when you answered the door wavered as you caught Max staring. “Is it okay? It’s not too much, right?” 

His head snapped up from your body to meet your eyes “No no not at all. You look amazing actually” 

As quickly as your confidence faltered, it grew right back hearing Max’s reassurance. Little did you know he was fighting every bone in his body not to turn you around and make a night out of you and the bed. 

While you had partied with Red Bull in the past, nothing prepared you for the scene in front of you. Bottle service was in full swing as every single team member had a glass of something in their hands. 

Being the reason why the team was celebrating tonight, Max got whisked away from you almost as soon as he walked in the door. Luckily, you spotted a few of the Red Bull photographers and social media team members, giving you a group to go to. You had gotten close to them over the course of the season through media collabs between Ferrari and Red Bull. 

“Y/n!!” Meg yelled as soon as she spotted you. “You look hot!” She embraced you in a hug, as did Jess, Sofi, and Becca when you made your way through the crowd. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sofi asked as the two of you pulled away

“Max invited me” You yelled over the boosted bass, “Some of his engineers nabbed him as soon as we got here though” 

“So you finally got the nerves to tell him how you feel?” Jess asked as she handed you a cup

As the drink burned your throat, you quickly pieced together it was a vodka cranberry. “No, I haven’t said anything to him.” The four girls exchanged knowing glances as you continued to sip on your drink. “What?” 

“You mean, he asked you to come celebrate with him even though you have no affiliation with the team, and you haven’t confessed your massive crush on him?” Sofi asked 

“Yes?” You answered, unsure of where she was getting at. 

“He totally likes you” Becca spoke this time

Cheers erupted in the building, and you turned to find Max up on someone’s shoulders. He was double fisting drinks - two gin and tonics most likely - looking like he was on cloud nine. 

“I don’t know” You said, peeling your eyes away from the sight in front of you and back to the girls “I feel like he would have said something, he’s a blunt guy” 

“Yeah with everything except how he feels” Jess said “Just trust us” 

The rest of the night had been a blur. At some point, your group made its way to the dancefloor, taking any and every drink a team member would offer you. The five of you danced with each other, as well as anyone who would even remotely get close. Everything blended together into one foggy echo. 

At some point, a pair of hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to whoever they belonged to. A chorus of drunken giggles filled your ears as the girls in front of you smiled and waved, leaving you alone with the person who was behind you. You couldn’t help but to lean back into the person, as the feeling of calloused and scabbed fingers traced your exposed skin. 

Leaning your head back to get a look at whose hands were on your body, you found Max’s beaming blue eyes staring back at you. Nothing was said between you two as swayed up against his body, knowing exactly where it was rubbing against. 

Stifled moans escaped Max’s lips as you danced against him. He didn’t know how many drinks he had at that point, all he knew was that he needed to be with you. And by the way you melted into his body, you needed him just as badly. He planted a soft kiss on your neck, sending a chill down your spine and his name breathily coming out of your mouth. 

Now Max wasn’t an asshole. He wasn’t going to take you in the state you were in and do anything. That just wasn’t the type of guy he was. But as you rubbed up against him, he wanted nothing more than to drag you to the bathroom. 

The last thing you wanted was the night to end. Max was finally all over you, his hands exploring every inch of your body that he could in public. Drunken kisses were planted on both of your bodies, landing anywhere but each other's lips. But as the music lowered, and the lights in the club slowly started to turn on, it was only a matter of time before the pace shut down. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Max whispered in your ear before placing his lips on your cheek. 

Nodding your head, Max took your arm and led you out into the night. The darkness of the night sky was quickly replaced with yells and camera flashes. 

“Head down” Max instructed, his hands never leaving yours “Can never escape the fucking paps” 

The flashes continued as Max guided you into the taxi. Sighs left both of your mouths once the door finally shut. 

“I am so sorry about that.” Max apologized “Thought I could have one fucking night without them” 

“Maxie,” You began, the nickname you had given him rolling easily off of your tongue. “It isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize” 

The two of you tumbled out of the taxi and into the elevator of your hotel. His arm was wrapped around you as you leaned into his side. The tension thick between the two of you, but neither of you dared to move. A ding filled your ears as the elevator landed on your floor. 

“Thank you for the invite, I had a really fun time tonight” You said as Max walked you to your door. 

“Of course, anything to spend time with you.” He said. Just like you, he didn’t want the night to end. Whether it was the amount of liquid courage still in his system or what, he spoke. “Do you wanna spend the night? Only if you want to, of course.” 

You tried not to act like you had been waiting for this moment all night. Your eyes broke from Max to your hotel door, back to Max, as if you were debating your decision. 

“I mean, I guess it is safer to be with someone in case anything happens…” You pondered, even though you were fully aware you were going to say yes. “I’d probably be up all night in my head if I didn’t have anyone to keep me company… Yeah I’ll stay with you” 

Max tried to hide his smile as you accepted his invitation, guiding you only a few doors down. He slid the key card into the slot, easily unlocking the door in his fuzzy state. 

When he offered for you to stay in his room, you weren’t expecting a whole suite. The living room alone was around the size of your entire hotel room. 

“Go to the bathroom and get yourself ready for bed, I’ll slide you some of my clothes to wear” Max said as he motioned to one of the doors - the bathroom you presumed. 

You did as he said, and as you fought to get your makeup off with a ratty wet tissue, Max knocked on the door. As you opened it, he handed you one of his shirts and shorts to sleep in. As you walked out of the bathroom, you made your way to the couch, before getting stopped by Max.

“No, you get the bed. I’ll take the couch” He insisted, gently placing his hand on your back and guiding you to the bedroom. 

Exhaustion from the events prior washed over you as you climbed into the bed, not even bothering to argue with him. You crawled under the covers, getting nice and comfy, as Max watched over for a moment, making sure you were okay. 

The all too familiar warm and fuzzy feeling grew in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. All he wanted to do was join you in bed tonight, letting you climb into his arms, but he knew better. The couch was his tonight. Max turned to shut out the light and close the door, but failed to even get there. 

“Max?” You asked, your voice barely audible. At first he thought he was hallucinating, only turning when he heard his name a second time. 

“What’s up, y/n/n?” He wasn’t expecting you to scoot over in the bed, eyes heavy as you pulled the comforter back. You didn’t say a word, only patting the empty spot in bed next to you. 

Part of him knew he shouldn’t. There was a perfectly good couch for him only a few feet away. But he couldn’t say no to you, you were his weakness. Against his judgment, he climbed in the bed, as you snuggled into his arms. 

======

It was early when the sun broke through the curtains, waking you up. It took you a minute to remember where you were and how you ended up in a hotel room that wasn’t yours. Max was still asleep next to you, arms wrapping around you like you were his personal teddy bear. 

You needed to get out of there. And fast. 

Not to say that you didn’t enjoy the events of the evening prior, you definitely did. It was just the thought of being anything more than friends that quickly made your stomach churn, and you were positive it wasn’t from the amount you drank the night before. You were one to take your time when it came to dating and relationships, and whatever was going on between you and Max was moving full throttle. Someone needed to slam on the brakes. It wasn’t going to be Max. 

You managed to lay perfectly still as you took in your situation. Max’s clothes covered your body as yours were probably still in the bathroom across the suite. The gesture was nice at the time, but as the cotton in his shirt mixed with his own body heat, you were suffocating. 

The task at hand felt like something out of a sitcom. Somehow you managed to wiggle your way out of Max’s arms without waking him. It was graceless, yet better than a bull in a china shop. 

But you did it, navigating your way through the suite to the bathroom to find your clothes drunkenly thrown on the floor. You internally chided your past self for the messiness, but changed into the clothes nonetheless. Leaving Max’s outfit from the night before folded on the couch, you slipped out of his hotel suite unnoticed by him. 

Your eyes darted both ways down the halls as you closed the door behind you, thankful that no one was up this early. As you started to walk down the hall to your own room, you heard someone’s throat clear. 

“What were you doing in Max’s room?” 

Turning around, you felt like a deer in headlights as you met Charles’ eyes. He came up to you, clearly just finished getting ready for the day, taking in the sight before him: you in your clothes from last night, makeup probably still half on, and frazzled. An amused smirk formed on Charles’ face. 

“He finally did it, huh?” He asked, crossing his arms 

“I promise it’s not what it looks like” You defended “I swear he just let me stay the night. We did not have sex.” 

The driver muttered a curse under his breath, “Guess I owe Carlos twenty now. Shouldn’t have believed the stupid gossip pages” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in what he said “You follow the gossip pages? And you two were betting on me?” 

“The betting is all in good fun, but yeah, the accounts are very entertaining. You and Max are all over them right now.” 

Charles took out his phone and after a few taps, he flipped it around. On the screen was a carousel of photos featuring you and Max at the club from the night before, ending with a photo of you holding hands. As you read the caption, your heart stopped. 

New WAG Alert! Max Verstappen is officially OFF the market! He was seen last night in a club in Zandvoort with a new mystery lady. Max girlies, how are we feeling about this?

Edit: The mystery girl has been identified as Y/N L/N, a team photographer for Ferrari, and good friends with Charles Leclerc. How are you feeling about romance being added to this rivalry?

“Oh this is bad.” You muttered, taking a step back from the driver. “Charles, this is bad.”

“You’re going to be fine, it's just a silly little rumor. It’ll pass within the week.” He reassured. He was no stranger to the gossip page rumors, but unlike you, Charles was used to the unwanted attention about his love life. 

“I don’t think you understand, I could lose my job. Ferrari is the only thing I have going for me right now!” You panicked, running your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself 

“Does it state in your contract you can’t have anything with any drivers?” Charles asked 

You paused, trying to think of the day you signed your life away to the team, but you were drawing a blank. “Is it bad I don’t remember?” 

“Exactly! It’s not your problem right now.” Charles said, hanging his arm around your neck “Now let’s go get breakfast while you tell me everything, Mrs. Verstappen”

======

On the other side of the door, Max had woken by the opening and closing of doors in his suite. It took him a moment to piece together what happened, and the night leading up to him being alone in his bed. HIs heartbeat skyrocketed as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. You, happily staying the night in his arms, only to dart out before he could even wake up. What the hell did it all mean? 

Monza, Italy

The Red Bull Ring had been child’s play compared to Monza. While rival drivers didn’t endure the threats like Spielberg, everywhere you looked, Tifosi donned the Ferrari red. Chants supporting Charles and Carlos broke out whenever any of the fans spotted them, making it a place you hoped you would never have to enter wearing another team's gear. 

It didn’t help that everyone in Ferrari was slightly on edge. Carlos and Charles wanted to perform in front of the Tifosi, the engineers wanted to make sure the car was in top shape, and you were worried about the release of the livery that was dropping later that day. 

Even though you were the one who painted the livery, seeing it in the garage was surreal. Your artwork had finally finished coming to life and was on display for everyone to see. 

Being in Monza meant the media duties increased by tenfold. You didn’t mind, as it gave you the opportunity to work more with the team, and an excuse to avoid Max. 

You hadn’t talked to him since that night in Zandvoort. He didn’t bother to reach out, so neither did you. It stung at first, not talking to the one who quickly became a close friend, but as each day passed, everything got a little easier. 

The garage was bustling with engineers and mechanics making sure the cars were in perfect condition for the weekend ahead. You were squeezed in there as you were in charge of filming the drivers’ reaction to the livery. Your stomach twisted as you walked down the hall of the garage, where you met Charles. 

“Hey, are you ready?” You asked 

Charles gave you a quick hug before pulling away “Hey, yeah, it’s just looking at the livery, right?” 

You nodded as your stomach started to churn “Yep. And please be genuine. No hard feelings if you don’t like it” 

“I’m sure I’ll love it. You know I love your work.” He praised. It was genuine, you knew he loved seeing your art just as you loved hearing him play his music. 

“Thank you Charl. Now I’m gonna count down from three, and when I say go, I’m going to start recording. Do the usual intro spiel and then pretty much say how you’re feeling about seeing the new paint.” You briefed him. It wasn’t his first time filming one of these, but you always reminded him how to do it just in case he decided to forget.

“Oh, and you only have one shot to get this right, so you better not fuck it up” You teased as you took the lens off of your camera, sticking it in your pocket. 

“Got it, I’ll be sure to do my worst” Charles joked. As you set up to start recording, panic filled Charles’ face “Wait. Can I practice once?” 

“Yeah, of course” You said

The driver quickly went through his spiel, looking to you for help on the words he couldn’t remember the direct English translation to. When he was confident enough in what he was saying, you angled your camera, ready to record. 

“3… 2… 1… Go” You counted down, starting to walk backwards down the hallway. When you first started doing things like this, you were always scared of tripping over something or hitting the walls. But at this point, you had done the backwards walk so many times that you could do it in your sleep. 

“Hi guys. Charles here. It’s media day here in Monza, and it’s my first look at the special livery for the race. Our photographer Y/N designed and painted it, so if it’s anything like her paintings, it’s going to be amazing. This year is super special for Monza as it is its 100th year of operation. I can’t wait to see what the car looks like” Charles said, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

As you rounded the corner into the garage, through the camera screen you could see Charles’ face light up. He took in the sight in front of him before speaking. 

“Wow. This is incredible” He complimented “Y/n you really outdid yourself with this. I hope you guys enjoy seeing the car as much as I am excited to drive in it. See you next time. Ciao guys” 

You moved yourself to get a view of the car that was in front of its driver. After holding the position for a few seconds, you stopped recording. 

“And done” You said, allowing Charles to turn toward you

“How was that?” He asked. His eyes begged for validation that he didn’t ruin any content being posted. If there was one thing to know about Charles, it’s that he wanted the best for everyone on the team, regardless of their position. 

“You did great” You assured him “I’m glad you like the livery. It means a lot” 

“Of course! I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true” He said as he pulled you into a hug 

Before you could thank him again, the sound of laughter filled your ears. Laughter from a voice you hadn’t heard in a week. You quickly pulled away from Charles as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Pretend I’m not here” You instructed the driver before ducking behind a stack of tires in the corner

On the other side of the tires, Max entered the Ferrari garage. He assumed you would be around, as you were normally on media day. But to his surprise, you weren’t one of the many people packed into the terminal. Luckily for him though, Charles was there inspecting his car. 

“Hey mate” Max greeted “The car looks sick.” 

“Yeah it does.” Charles agreed “Y/n did a hell of a good job on the design”

“She did. But uh speaking of y/n, have you seen her anywhere? I haven’t been able to find her” Max asked. There it was. 

A silent prayer left your lips as you waited for Charles’ response. He wasn’t usually one to lie, but hopefully he made an exception for your sake. Otherwise, it would be real fun to explain why you were hiding. 

“Not recently, no. Last I saw of her she was in hospitality doing some editing. Lots of content needing to go out with it being Monza weekend.” Charles answered

“Ah I get it. Thanks anyway” Max replied. The sound of shoes scuffling filled the garage as the two drivers said their goodbyes. 

“He’s gone!” Charles called in the direction of the tire stack

As you crawled out from behind the tires, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. For the third time that day, your arms wrapped around Charles as a chorus of thank you’s left your lips. 

“I genuinely owe you Charl, thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to face him.” You said as you finally pulled away from him 

“Yeah, of course. Is everything good between you two?” He asked, his tone filled with concern more than anything else

“I just realized some mistakes that happened last weekend.” You admitted “Meddling with anyone in the workplace just isn’t my thing” 

Even though the confession wasn’t to Max, it still felt good to get some of it off your chest. You should have never let your feelings get involved in work. You knew better than thinking they would mix well. 

======

The free practice sessions came and went, with both of the Ferraris looking strong. So far, you had managed to steer clear of Max. Most of your time being spent in the hospitality suite or trackside, as far away from the Red Bull garage as possible. 

Avoiding Max had given you ample opportunity to perfect your camera settings, as well as your editing presets for Monza. The race was a big task, and you wanted to make sure you delivered. 

But you knew it was only a matter of time before you ran into him. You had been assigned to cover the Fan Stage interview with the Ferrari drivers. As fate would have it, the combined interview with Red Bull and Haas was scheduled right before. 

As you and the Ferrari boys arrived, the four drivers wrapped up their interview and headed off the stage. There were only a handful of people backstage dressed in red, making you stand out like a sore thumb. You tried to blend in with the rest of the media team, but Max spotted you instantly, causing you to drop your head, pretending to look at past photos on your camera. 

As Max’s gaze landed on you, he could feel his thoughts disappear as his mind fogged up. He wanted - no, needed - more of that night in Zandvoort, but the two of you had to talk first. As he slowly made his way to you, his hands grew sweaty and he could feel his heart pound like a ticking time bomb. 

“Y/n! Hey, how’ve you been?” He asked, quickly pushing his nerves aside as he approached you

Your eyes quickly darted to Charles for assistance,  who only gave you a pity look. Some help he was. You shifted your weight, steadying yourself as you finally made eye contact with the man you’ve been avoiding. 

“Hi Max.” You answered

He repeated the question, “How’ve you been?”

You didn’t want to have a conversation with him. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone while you were working. If you were going to talk, it had to be in private, off the clock, when you were ready. So, you mustered out an “I’m sorry, I can’t really talk right now. I’m working” As you lifted up your camera, hoping he would get the hint. 

Being a guy, he of course didn’t have a clue on what you were trying to do. “Right. I just wanted to congratulate you on the livery. It looks amazing.” 

Before you could even think of a response, the sound of the host’s voice filled the speakers. “Now the duo you’ve all been waiting for. Tifosi, please welcome Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz of Ferrari!” 

The fans erupted as you gave Max a soft smile. “Thanks, but I have to go. I’ll see you around” 

Max watched as you followed the Ferrari boys up the stairs, focused on the camera in your hands. Questions of where he went wrong filled his mind as he tore his gaze away from you and made his way back to Red Bull.

======

While it wasn’t the double podium the team and the Tifosi had hoped for, both drivers made it into the top four, with Charles landing P2. 

You arrived at Parc ferme long before any of the drivers pulled in, giving you ample time to set up. The roar of the crowd sent a shiver down your spine as Charles pulled his car into position. If this was what it was like for him to be second, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he reached the top step. 

Hearing the Dutch national anthem was not on your ideal to do list for Monza, but you still trudged through the formalities of the podium. Max’s stare was fixed on you, burning like lasers, but you didn’t dare meet it. There were more important things to be done. 

Suzuka, Japan

Japan was easily the most miserable Grand Prix of the entire season. While the country was beautiful and the fans were amazing, everything in the paddock made it unbearable. The only bright side on the weekend was that your contract got extended for the next two seasons.

Yet again, everyone in the Ferrari garage was stressed, Charles especially. It was the second race that Max could win the Driver’s Championship, only needing to out score Charles by eight points. 

On top of the Driver’s Champion pending to be named, your plan to avoid Max the rest of the season had gone terribly wrong. The dark skies and rain showers didn’t help either. 

It started on media day, when Charles and Max had been put in the same group. Being forced to follow Charles around while being in the same proximity as Max was enough. The boys didn’t help in that they were constantly glued to each other's sides. 

Max nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard about that round’s groups. Being with Charles meant you weren’t too far behind, giving Max the opportunity to test the waters with you again. 

His first goal was to get you to wave. Max and the rest of his group were leaving a press conference, causing you and the other photographers to hurry outside. You were getting ready to snap photos of Charles, but Max was not too far ahead of him. The wave was subtle, you honestly almost missed it, but you replied with a simple head nod. 

That head nod was enough of a greenlight for Max. The next step was to get you to actually talk. 

As the group moved between media areas, Max found you talking to Charles. While from the back of the group he couldn’t tell what you two were talking about, from the way you were laughing with the Monegasque, he knew it wasn’t anything serious. Max’s suspicions were confirmed as he ended up in the middle of the group and discovered the topic of conversation.

“I don’t understand how you don’t think spaghetti is good” Charles said “It’s a classic” 

You laughed, shaking your head “I never said it wasn’t good. I said that I think it’s an okay shape. It just doesn’t hold the sauce as well as cavatappi or penne” 

“You better not say that when we’re back in Italy. They’ll chase you out of the country” Charles joked 

“No shit, Sherlock. Why else do you think we’re talking about it here?” You said, a smile plastered on your lips 

“But do you think cavatappi or penne is better at holding sauce? They both have a tubular shape” Max asked

Your head whipped around to find Max behind you two. Looking at Charles for help, the pity in his eyes only screamed “be nice”.

“Cavatappi” You answered, your words lacking any of the enthusiasm you had before, “The spiral helps keep the sauce in”

Max was oblivious to the silent conversation you and Charles had prior and the change in your tone, but he was sure as hell over the moon that he got you to talk. 

======

As media day pushed on, you were reminded of every reason why you liked Max. From the way he held the door for you to the way he listened to you intently as you gave instructions for a photo. Maybe Charles was right, maybe you needed to be a bit nicer. 

The day was wrapping up, only giving Max a handful of chances to talk to you again. He caught you alone outside of the Ferrari garage in the pit lane. Your attention was on the phone in your hands, most likely at the content from the day. Should he say something? You looked busy, he didn’t want to annoy you even more. Before Max could decide what to do, he heard your voice. 

“Max, hey.” You called as you approached the Red Bull driver

“Oh uh hey” He replied, caught off guard by your sudden friendliness “How’s your day been?” 

“Pretty good, honestly” You answered, your tone much warmer than it was earlier in the day. “Always love media day. There’s always something to do” 

“Yeah, I guess it's nice for you, with the job and all. I always just want to get in the car and drive” He spoke 

Max continued to listen as you told him how the season has been from the garage next door, and through the lens. You recounted some of your favorite stories, including the time that you and Charles pranked the PR team into believing he had gotten into an argument with one of the members of the British Royal Family.

Neither of you were sure how long you stood there talking, but you had a feeling it had been a while. The sun had moved slightly in the sky, as people passed the two of you as if you were a road obstacle. 

It wasn’t until the paddock opened up to the fans with pit lane tours that you realized it had been at least an hour. The sound of camera clicks and bright light flashes filled the air as the fans took in the sights of their favorite teams garages. 

“Well, I should probably get back to work. The content doesn’t make itself” You joked “And plus, I’m sure some of the fans would love to meet you” 

“Yeah, I should go say hi” Max agreed “I’ll see you around” 

A silence overcame both of you, trying to figure out what to do. As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him and wish him well, your gut begged you to walk away. The boundary needed to be set. You listened to your gut, opting for a wave before disappearing into the red painted garage. 

======

The hot tea burned your throat as you took a sip. You were always impatient waiting for the liquid to cool down, to the point that it was a part of your nighttime routine. 

Photo editing was one of the last things you did every night - giving you plenty of time to reflect on your work. Every photo got the same treatment of applying the preset, then adjusting the settings as needed. It was the perfect mind numbing task right before bed. The routine this time was broken up by the sound of your phone going off. 

DING!

One of the silly photos you had taken of Charles popped up on your phone screen, followed by the words “Have you seen this?”

The photo that accompanied the text was a screenshot of the stupid F1 gossip page that Charles was obsessed with. Their most recent post had been a photo of you and Max from earlier. 

Max Verstappen and his alleged girlfriend, Y/N L/N, a Ferrari photographer, were spotted along pit lane earlier today. Fans at the Japanese GP Pit Lane Walk said both of them were in deep conversation, only focused on each other and completely oblivious to the outside world.

You nearly choked on your tea as you read the caption. They weren’t wrong that you had been completely lost in chatting, but they didn’t need to call you out on it. They also didn’t need to continue assuming you and Max were dating. 

A curse left your lips as you thanked Charles for keeping you updated. It pained you to come to terms with, but you couldn’t have Max in your life. He needed to stay just another F1 driver. 

======

The rain egged on as qualifying rolled around. As boots splashed through muddy puddles, you were fortunate enough to be in the garage and along the pit wall. 

Someone was approaching, the squeaks of wet shoes on the epoxy floor getting louder with every step. Annalese found you crouching on the floor of the garage, trying to get some aesthetic photo of the tires. 

“Hiding in the tire stacks again?” She asked 

Standing up from your squat, you turned to your boss, “Charles told you about that?” 

“Yeah, honestly it was kind of funny” Annalese chuckled 

Your jaw dropped. Your coworker was a blabber mouth. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t believe him.” 

“You better. He’s a total gossip” She said, taking a pause before speaking again “But that’s it? You and Max are done?” 

“You can’t be done with something that never even started” You retorted “It was a fun one off thing, but I can’t have some driver messing with my work.” 

======

Somehow, the rain turned into a torrential downpour come race time. The red rain jacket on your back was soaked from the short sprint between Ferrari’s hospitality and the garage. A shiver crept down your spine as the cold droplets fell on the limited exposed skin

“I cannot believe they’re racing in this shit” You muttered as you entered the packed garage. ‘

Mechanics and engineers alike were huddled for warmth around the TV for the race start. You opted to stay in the garage and photograph their raw reactions instead of risking damaging your camera. 

When two o’clock hit, it was lights out and under a yellow flag, the cars took off. You were so used to the high speeds that you couldn’t help but chuckle seeing the cars practically crawl. 

The chuckle quickly silenced as a Ferrari car crashed into the boards. All eyes were on the screen as everyone was trying to figure out which of the cars it was. Seconds felt like hours before the team announced it was Carlos that had crashed, leading to a slight sigh of relief. Charles was still in the fight. 

Fortunately Carlos was okay, but he wasn’t the only one who had starting errors. Albon and Magnussen had connected, and it appeared Vettel had some damage as well. Just as quickly as the race began, a red flag led to its delay. 

You watched as the cars pulled into pit lane, giving you the opportunity to snap photos at an angle you wouldn’t normally get. 

After multiple failed restarts later, the race had resumed. A little over thirty minutes were left in the three hour time limit, meaning every single second mattered for the Driver’s Championship. 

Max was the first one to cross the finish line, with Charles not too far behind. Max hadn’t won the championship, at least yet. 

You emerged from the cave (otherwise known as the garage) for the first time all race to be at Parc ferme. Max’s eyes lit up the second he saw you, but you were too focused on Charles to even notice. 

Like usual, the post race interviews were zoned out. Once you've heard someone talk about why they could or couldn’t drive properly, you don't need to hear it again. That is until Charles’ five second penalty was announced. 

Cheers broke out on the Red Bull side of Parc ferme, while the Ferrari staff exchanged glances. There was no possible way that Max Verstappen won his second championship over a simple penalty. But there he was, celebrating with his team. 

As he was engulfed by his engineers and mechanics, he couldn’t help but to wonder what it would be like to have you on that side of the barrier, celebrating with him. 

The formalities of the interviews wrapped up, letting you turn to the rest of the Ferrari team. Somber looks filled their faces, and as much as you hated to do it, the scene did paint a pretty photo. 

“So that’s it? It all came down to a penalty?” You asked once you removed the camera from your face 

“It all depends on if the FIA chooses to give full points or not for the race” One of the engineers responded 

Time stood still as everyone on every team waited for the stewards’ final decision. There was a silence in the air that you had never experienced before, as if everyone was holding their breath. 

The TV screen changed from an early played graphic of the potential Driver’s Champion, to live footage of the Driver’s cool down room. 

“Max you have to” A lady off screen must’ve motioned to the room around the corner

“See what’s there?” Max asked, a puzzled look on his face as Checo made a remark about him being the World Champion. “But I’m not” 

Another man off screen told Max to go to the room, leading him to question again. “But I’m not.” 

“Yes you are” 

“I am? You sure?” 

The roar that followed from Red Bull was almost deafening. Engineers and mechanics were on each other’s shoulders as they celebrated their driver. A mere twenty feet away, no one in red dared to make a sound. 

As podium procedure ensued, it took everything in you not to keep your eyes on Max. He was the main attraction after all. His eyes crinkled as his name was announced and his smile only grew wider once the trophy was in his hands. Pulling your eyes away from Max was tough, but once you eventually did, you focused on Charles and got back to work.

His only goal of the podium was to meet your eyes. Max scanned the Ferrari red, searching for the lens of your camera. With no surprise, it was angled to his left, directly at Charles. As the Dutch and Austrian national anthems droned on, Max couldn’t take his eyes off of you, while you fought every bone in your body not to meet his. 

======

You had never been happier than the moment you were done with all of your post race duties. The paddock still had people in it, most of them also making their way out for the weekend, and you were able to slip past Red Bull without seeing a particular World Champion. 

That is, until you got to the parking lot. 

Wet gravel crunched underneath your shoes as you made your way through the lot, careful not to ruin the pair of black and red Puma’s on your feet. Chatter from the people around you filled the air, one voice making an already terrible day even more miserable.

“Hey!” Max’s voice filled the parking area

He’s talking to someone else. Keep walking. 

“Y/n!” Max yelled 

Just don’t answer. He’ll go away. 

“Y/n!” 

Max’s walk quickly turned into a jog, trying to catch up to you. You could hear his footsteps quicken on the wet gravel, but you couldn’t get yourself to walk any faster. 

“Y/n. Why won’t you talk to me? Did I do something?” Max asked, grabbing your wrist

“Well the whole world thinks we’re dating right now but we’re barely even friends.” You replied, finally turning to face him

Max’s head tilted slightly “What are you talking about?” 

“That night in Zandvoort. It was a mistake, Max. I wasn’t ready then and I’m still not now. Congrats on the championship. I’ll see you around.” You answered, yanking your wrist out of his grasp before finally making your way to your car.

The wallet in his pocket grew heavy as he watched you walk away. The photo of the young boy rested inside of it as an aching reminder. 

[pillow-anime-talk]

music & vocaloids month ; fifth day.

synopsis: Sex with Ouka and Issa was always amazing (even if you were sore for a week after it).

# tags: scenario; friends with benefits; romance; smut; nsfw

warnings: threesome (m/f/m), double penetration, sex on the couch, butt fuck, sore pussy, hair pulling, tits sucking, slut & pet names

includes: female reader ft. ouka kira & issa kiduku {vazzrock}

Your eyes were full of tears, your hair more tangled than ever, and a trickle of sticky saliva was coming out of your mouth. You closed your both eyes as Issa entered your ass harder and at the same time Ouka tightened his hands on your hips trying to push his own pelvis up to feel the warmth of your pussy even better. The double stimulation was disgustingly satisfying for you. Your thoughts were obscured by pleasant pain and orgasms spreading one after another. The two men had a great time seeing your facial expressions and body language; for two friends, sex with you was the best pleasure and the best reward for a well-played concert.

“... We’ve been fucking for so many months, the three of us, and you’re still so damn tight. It’s amazing, baby.” The white-haired singer tightened his fingers on your skin, and you only opened one eye, moaning under your breath; your breathing was rapid and your heart was beating several times faster than normal, you felt sick from the pleasure. You were sore and tired, but at the same time you knew that this was only the beginning of your sex. It was only four minutes spent on the brown couch in your small living room.

The TV was on, and one of the random movies that had recently appeared on the platform was playing on the screen. However, you didn’t know what this movie was really about, you only watched its short beginning, and then the red-eyed man’s hand was under your fabric shorts, and Kira’s lips on your breasts, which he secretly adored. They very quickly undressed you, used the little lube you always had in the cupboard next to the couch, and then relaxed your tense muscles and mind. You forgot to even order food or talk about the past week, you went straight to carnal pleasure and your first mum.

“Come on, slut. Cum for us one more time.” This time the dark haired man spoke to you, while leaning towards your own right ear. More chills ran through you, your pussy tightening, causing Ouka to grunt in satisfaction.

Issa held your arms tightly, but after a moment, one of his hands grabbed your hair. He tangled his fingers tightly in your soft strands, then pulled you back with a firm motion that made you moan even louder. Your face was fully visible to the twenty-seven-year-old, who only licked his upper lip at the sight of your red face, full of tears and sweat on the temples.

“Our little fuckdoll looks so good being fucked by us, right?” He asked amused, leaning in even more and then kissing you straight on the lips. The chaotic kiss caused another wave of pleasure, and you cummed once again on Ouka’s cock. The sofa was soaked and needed refreshing soon.

Ouka took care of your nipples again and you tightened your fingers on his shoulders; your nails left visible and deep marks on his pale skin, but he didn’t care. If necessary, make-up artists will surely hide the marks and scars you left.

“Give her to me, Kiduku. I want to take care of my kitten’s sweet lips too.” He smiled, touching your chin by his fingers. Issa let go of your hair and the other man took the opportunity to give you a much softer kiss. Nevertheless, just as juicy and pleasant as the previous one. “Y/N, I love you like this.” Ouka slowed down and you took a deep breath.

Your eyes were wide, your lips puffy, and your cheeks flushed. You looked over your shoulder and then ahead. You knew how to please their faces and eyes.

“Please, p-please... Harder. I want to stop walking for the next few days. I’m feeling so good.” You moaned pleadingly as your body sank to the twenty-five-year-old male.

“... Who would I be if I didn’t fulfill my little whore’s request?” The black-haired man asked rhetorically, and his friend only corrected your tangled hair and wiped your face from sweat and tears.

“You can do it?” He asked calmly and you nodded. “I’ll hold you tight, baby girl. Everything will be fine.”

previous day ; meiko ♡ next day ; ryouta sakuraba from growth

[bad-ads]

ok like major major major trigger warning for below the cut for suicide and self harm but i liek really need advice

so basically i had a really rough start to college ans on the 18th when my parents left me alone at college i was miserable the whole day bc i couldnt make any friends and felt so alone and as a result i relapsed into self harm and cut myself with a razor.

I regretted it by the next day and that afternoon I had a therapy session over zoom with my therapist and told her. she was proud of me for telling her but she seemed kinda rattled, which i thought was weird bc we’ve talked abt my self harm before. the rest of that day wasnt great, still pretty lonely and i sort of panicked over future jobs and majors

the next day, tuesday the 20th, i started classes and i legitimately met some very nice ppl and enjoyed my classes. but rhen when classes were done i spent more time panicking over jobs and started to have this sinking feeling that i am not capable of the basic taska necessary to live on my own or in the world at all. I went to dinner and couldn’t find anyone to sit with so i ate entirely alone and walked back to my dorm room trying not to cry. i burst into tears as soon as i got in and just spiraled and cried over everything, friends, loneliness, and how i felt i wasnt capable of holding a good job or taking care of myself. at which point i started having a massive nosebleed and alone in my dorm room, with blood all over my face, I decided that i should kill myself. as dumb as it sounds, i started googling methods and decided that hanging was the best option. unfortunately/fortunately, i didnt have rope so i took my belt but i could find a place to hang it from that was stable oelr wasnt obvious (ie over the opposite side door handle) but the article i read said rhat all you really needed to hang yourself was leverage, and that holding the belt end thats pulled far above your head would still work. i did that for about 30 seconds, before the tightening arouns my throat started to kinda panic me and i stopped. i tried again but then about 40 seconds in i remembwred that my school has tuition insurance that allows you to not have to continue to pay tuition if an emergency causes you to drop out and that my parents and i had not bought it and as a result if i did die, my parents would have to continue paying tuition (we split tuition but they are in control of most of the money i’ve made cause tbh thats just way easier). the idea of my parents continuing to have to pay tuition kinda pulled me back to earth and i resolved to call my therapist.

unfortunately, ar like that exact moment, one of my suitemates went into oue shared bathroom (you can heat everything in the suite regardless of where you are, its two rooms connected by a bathroom and the noise travels really far). so then i was feaking out cause i couldnt call her because my suitemates wojld hear. i couldnt go somewhere else to call either bc my face was still covered in blood and puffy and swollen from crying for like an hour straight. so then i started crying more bc i didnt know what to do. also then i looked at the clock i realized i had to go to lipsync practice (its a part of our welcome week) and 9 pm and tbh almost started laughing at the absurdity of having to go to fucking lip sync. i desperately wanted to skip and hide forever but i didnt. I waited for my suitemate yo leave the bathroom cleaned myself up and went to lipsync practice.

i came back home after practice and cried more about everything (i had a ton of trouble falling asleep bc my face hurt so much from crying which then made me cry more etc etc). up until this point i had fully intended to call and tell my therapist, honesty between me, her and my parenrs has been massively helpful in my mental health, but then i started to panic bc i remembered that forced paychiatric holds exist ans i was rwally worries that if i told her, i’d have to go to a psych ward, which would be especially bad cause then we are back to the tuition insurance problem that saved my life a little bit.

i finally managed to sleep eventually and throughout the week i took my meds consistently, i made friends and overall felt a lot better. 2 days ago was rhe 29th and i told my parents over a phone call. Im glad i did, but i havent had a therapy seasion since before the attempt so i hadn’t told my therapist yet, and i told my parents i was worried abt hospitalization and they said they didnt think that would happen, but that it might be good.

Its the 31st now and i have therapy this week. i’ve been up all night panicking that my therapist will have to report it and i’ll get put into in patient treatment. i’ve been researching non stop but i cant find an answer on whether aborted suicide attempts within the last two weeks are grounds for hospitalization. i have not been actively suicidal since the day of my attempt and was only passively suicidal like once in befween then and now (which like i have had on and off passive suicidality throughout highschool, just not really in the past year).

SO BASICALLY! i really just need advice on whether i should tell my therapist, have my parents tell her or keep quite about it? could tell her lead to me being hospitalized or would it be okay bc im not presently a danger to myself and i stopped anyway.

sorry ik this is crazy long and traumadumpy but i cant sleep thinking about it

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 8)

a/n: oh my! we have finally reached the end of this story and I never thought it would turn out to be this long but im happy it did! thank you for reading and loving it, and now, enjoy the last part!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4k

warning: just pure fluff

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“Girl, even if you don’t win, you’ll surely take the title of the hottest woman on the red carpet tonight.”

Florence’s words make you chuckle, but you try not to move your lips too much as the makeup artist finishes up the last touches on them, using a nude shade.

“Stop, my head is big enough already,” you tell her, giving her a look through the mirror. She is standing a few feet behind you, already wearing her beautiful, golden Versace gown that hugs her perfectly. Her hair is up in a neat bun so her back can be on full display and the diamonds in her ears can also shine brightly. She looks amazing while she is the opposite of what you’ll look like tonight.

Rhonda, the makeup artist has an amazing notion about your look when you showed her the gown you’d be wearing tonight and since the dress is not the sparkly kind, like Florence’s, she went a little heavier with the glitter on your eyes, using mostly whitish-silver colors, creating rosy cheeks and topping it with nude, glossy lips. Your hair is in loose curls with a bunch of extension, creating the illusion that you might as well be Rapunzel herself tonight. But you are the most excited about the gown that’s already waiting for you to be finally put on.

“What time is it?” you ask Florence as you don’t have your phone on you, but she has hers in her hands already.

“We still have half an hour before we have to leave. Dude, I can’t believe you are an Oscar nominee and might turn into a winner tonight!” she sighs, eyes shining bright with excitement. She hasn’t come off of this high for days, so over the Moon that you get to walk the red carpet tonight as a nominee.

“Don’t jinx it, Flo,” you warn her.

There’s a knock on the door of the hotel suit you’ve occupied for the glamming and Florence is quick to rush to it answering, but you both know who it is. As she throws the door open Harry comes to your sight, looking  as handsome as ever, wearing his custom made Gucci suit with a pink dress shirt underneath that matches your gown perfectly.

“Florence, you look wonderful!” his british accent fills the room, making you smile. Rhonda sets your makeup with some spray and you’re finally done. Standing up you move your legs around a bit as they went a little numb from all the sitting.

“Thank you! Pink suits you well, Harry,” your friend compliments your man and you watch them smiling.

When Harry’s eyes set on you, the light up, his smile widening from ear to ear. He looks spotless, freshly shaved, his hair recently cut and combed into place for a change. Not that you don’t like it when it’s all tousled and messy, especially when it’s because of your fingers.

“Angel, wow!” he breathes out as he walks up to you, taking your hands in his. You know he wants to kiss you, but doesn’t want to risk messing your lips up, so he is left with admiring you with only his eyes.

“Just wait until you see her in the dress!” Florence chimes in making you chuckle. You kept your dress a secret, wanting to surprise him with the first look. You gave out only the most necessary details for Lambert so the two of you could match.

“You’d be great like this too,” he teases, taking a look at your fluffy robe.

“I’m not going to the Oscars in a robe,” you tell him with a narrow-eyed look.

“I know, I’m just saying that you’d still be stunning,” he mumbles with a boyish smirk.

“Y/N? Time to choose a necklace!” Your stylist, Rupert appears from the room where your gown is hanging. He has a few jewelry boxes in his hands and he sets them all to the coffee table, opening up you are met with four breathtakingly beautiful diamond necklaces, each of them different yet so magical looking, you can’t decide which one you like the most.

“Harry, which one do you like the most?” you ask, kneeling down next to the table, mesmerized by the jewelries in front of you. Harry leans down and inspects them one by one before poking on the last one in the row. It has three rows of diamonds, not too big, the stones in the last row are shaped like water droplets, it’s such an elegant looking piece, it surely caught your eyes as well and you think it would be perfect with the dress.

“This one,” he tells you and you nod, shutting the other boxes, satisfied with the choice.

“Alright, time to get you into the gown, girl,” Rupert winks, gesturing at you to follow him into the room.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Harry, risking a quick peck on his lips before you disappear in your temporary dressing room.

You fell in love with the gown on the first fitting when Rupert pulled it out, still in the finishing phase. It still has pins in it, but it already took your breath away. It has a massive A-line skirt and a tight upper part that hugs your body perfectly, a row of buttons running down the middle of it. The sleeves are puffy, but then end in a tight run from a little above your wrists, the same set of buttons appearing like on your chest. It’s giving out some Victorian style vibes in a more sophisticated and simpler way, but it’s by far your favorite dress you’ve ever worn to any event.

It surely needs the extra pair of hands from Rupert to put it on, but once you are secured in it, you feel like a princess straight out of a fairytale and surely, your prince is standing on the other side of the double doors.

“Alright! Everyone get ready for the big reveal!” Rupert announces, sneaking out the room so he can open the door for you. He waits a few moments as you hear everyone shuffle around outside, probably lining up to see you walk out in your finished state. “Okay, three! Two! One! Welcome our Oscar nominee!” he cheers, a round of applause is heard before you even appear, but it’s quickly replaced with gasps when Rupert pulls the doors open and they get the first glimpse of you in your gown.

“Holy fuck!” Florence gasps, mouth hanging open as she keeps raking your form up and down. Your eyes find Harry’s gaze and you see him in a state you haven’t often found him in the past almost two years you’ve been dating. He is completely speechless, eyes glued to you in awe as if he just saw an angel in real life.

“Y/N, I—wow,” he breathes out, still at a loss of words.

“You like it?” you ask with a shy smile.

“I fucking love it, baby. You look… You really are an angel,” he tells you, making you chuckle at his words.

“Would you please help me put on the necklace?” you ask him and he nods eagerly, carefully taking the jewelry out of its box and walking behind you, he brings it around your neck, his fingers delicately working on the clasp. Once it’s all set, you step to the floor to ceiling mirror, taking in the final look.

“There won’t be a straight woman left on Earth once you step on the red carpet,” Florence bluntly comments, making everyone in the room laugh.

“Let’s take some photos, I need to immortalize this masterpiece,” Rupert gestures around, already grabbing his camera.

The next ten minutes you take hundreds of photos, alone, with Florence and then with Harry. He still seems a little stunned by your look, feeling shy when he circles his arm around your waist, but it’s cute that you can still have such an effect on him after being together for almost two years.

Florence snaps some with your phone as well, your favorite is when he held your waist and leant you back, making you arch backwards as your noses touched since he couldn’t kiss you. You already know it’ll end up as your lockscreen, replacing the selfie the two of you took on your latest trip to Hawaii.

When it’s time to leave you grab your little purse with your phone and other necessities and the three of you pile up in a minivan, since your dress needs all the space so it doesn’t get wrinkled before you step out to the red carpet.

As you sit in the car and watch the buildings pass by, your nerves start to rise in you. When the nominations came out a month ago it seemed so far, you couldn’t imagine yourself actually attending the Academy Awards, but now here you are, on your way to find out if you’ve been good enough to be the best.

Your role in Sinful Heaven has brought a lot to your life aside from the nomination. The three months of filming was one of the hardest times in your life you’ve ever worked through and at some points, you didn’t even think you’d get through it. Working so closely with Levi took a toll on you while you were trying to prove in such a heavy and serious role. It was a mess especially at the beginning when you and Harry were still in this weird phase, but that eventually turned right when he literally punched Levi in the face and ten minutes later asked you to be his girlfriend. It’s a badass way to start a relationship and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, especially because it put Levi into place or at least scared him enough to get off your back for the rest of the filming.

When Harry left following that visit, you couldn’t see each other until filming wrapped and you flew straight to him and travelled with him for the next two weeks, hopping from one city to the other, watching him perform every other night and spending all your time with him.

When the movie premiered eight months later, you didn’t appear with Harry by your side, Maya was your date for the evening, but by that time everyone knew you and Harry are an official couple. Neither of you felt like hiding it or caring about what others would think and you were able to focus on each other and rely on the strong foundation you’ve built for your relationship.

He was there with you when the nominations came out and probably screamed louder when your name appeared in the list. With tearing eyes and choked out sobs you jumped into his arms as he mumbled into your ear.

“I’m so proud of you, Angel. So, so proud!”

And now you are on your way to the show, only hours away from finding out if your dreams will come true tonight. Harry squeezes your hand and you turn to face him, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“Nervous?” he asks with a small smile.

“Very,” you admit with an airy chuckle.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m very proud of you. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze back.

Since it’s the first time you and Harry appear on the red carpet as a couple, once you set your feet out of the car, everyone goes nuts. He helps you out and even fixes your dress so it falls just perfectly around your frame before he offers his arm. You link your through it, taking a deep breath as the two of you start walking down the carpet, posing for the photographers.

You feel powerful and strong, like it’s the peak of your career, but you also feel that it wouldn’t be the same without Harry by your side even though he is making sure to let you shine tonight. At one point he even steps back for a moment so photographers can snap you alone and you think it’s such a caring move from him.

You feel a little dizzy from all the flashlights by the time you walk into the theater, Harry holding your hand tightly as he leads you to your seats.

You’ve been to plenty award shows and it’s not even your first Academy Awards appearance either, but for obvious reasons, it’s the most important. Sitting in your plush chair, you can barely stop yourself from continuously fidgeting as one category follows the other and it’s still not yours.

Then following a jaw-dropping performance from Dua Lipa, Chris Evans walks out with a golden statue and an envelope in his hands and your heart skips a beat, but not because of the man himself, but because you know he is the presenter of the Best Actress category.

Your hold on Harry’s hand on your lap tightens and you glue your eyes to the big screens behind Chris as he smiles around.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to be here and to present the award for Best Actress. The theater tonight is filled with exceptional talents, but let’s see the nominees,” he speaks into the microphone and then he starts listing the names.

Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway, Margot Robbie and Rooney Mara are called and a camera fixates on each of them when Chris says their names, all smiling brightly and waving around before your name is called at the end. Taking a deep breath you plaster your most wonderful smile across your face, waving around like the other nominees did before the big screen splits, showing the five of you simultaneously.

“We’ve seen some spectacular performances from these ladies and now let’s see who proved herself to be the best this year.”

Chris flips the envelope open and pulls the little paper out that has the winner’s name written on it and for a moment you’re convinced you’ll pass out. You’ve never felt this anxious before and you’re gripping Harry’s hand so tightly you’re surprised he hasn’t pulled it back, but he is patiently putting up with your nerves, his eyes glued to the man on the stage as well.

“And the Academy Award for Best Actress goes to…” Chris starts with a charming smile, holding a short pause before he finally says the name. “Y/N Y/L/N for her role as Marie Davidson in Sinful Heaven!”

Your mouth hangs open, ears ringing as you process that your name was called. Everyone around you jumps up, including Harry, who is screaming just like when the nominations came out, while you are completely blank. It takes you a couple of moments to realize that you in fact just won your first Oscar and everyone is waiting for you to go and get your little statue.

“Baby! Baby you won!” Harry cheers as he helps you up from your seat and you throw yourself into his arms as reality sets in. “I fucking love you, Angel. Go and get your Oscar!” he laughs, pride all over his face as he urges you to walk up to the stage.

“Walk me up, please!” you stammer, not trusting yourself with walking in this fragile state. He offers his hand without a second thought, walking you to the stage where Chris is politely waiting for you to help you up on the stairs.

“Thank you,” you breathe out once you’re finally up on the stage, every set of eyes on you as Chris hands you the little statue.

“Congratulations,” he smiles as the two of you exchange two kisses on the cheeks before he steps aside and lets you give a speech.

You thought about writing a few words beforehand, but you figured if you end up being the winner you’d forget the whole thing, so there would be no use and that’s the case. Your mind is still blank as you look down at the award in your hands, the crowd still cheering on you, giving you a few extra moments to figure out what to say.

“I uhh—I don’t even know what to say, this feels like a dream,” you admit talking into the microphone, the clapping dying down so that everyone can hear your words. “I want to thank to everyone who worked on Sinful Heaven, because I wouldn’t be here without them. To my wonderful director and amazing costars, it’s been such a wonderful journey with you all. Thank you to my friends and family who were there with me from the very start, believing in me when I was losing faith in myself, thank you for never giving up on me. To my parents who I assume are now crying in front of the TV,” you add chuckling softly, imagining your mom and dad in tears as they listen to your words. “This is a wonderful sign to me that I am where I need to be and that I’m on the right path, so thank you for giving me even more motivation to keep me going on my way.”

Your eyes roam around all the guests until they fall on one proud man staring at you in his Gucci suit and pink dress shirt, his green eyes looking glossy as he listens to your words.

“And last but not least, thank you to one special person, because I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here tonight without him. I have one thing to tell you.” Forgetting about everyone in the theater you hold up the Oscar in your hand as you finish your speech: “Never have I ever loved someone like I love you.”

The crowd starts cheering again as you step away from the microphone and Chris is quick to jog up to you and help you down the stairs, Harry rushing back to take your hand once Chris lets go of it.

You catch him wipe a tear off his cheek as the two of you walk back to your seats hand in hand. Once you are settled, you take a deep breath and turn to Harry who is already looking at you, the same proud smile you saw from the stage still on his handsome face.

“I have never,” he tells you as his answer to the last line of your speech and you chuckle as your free hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. The lipstick on your lips long forgotten as you finally kiss him for the first time tonight.

“I have never either,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again and again.

***

  Smiling around you wait for the audience to quiet down as you make yourself comfortable in the familiar armchair. It’s such a nostalgic feeling to sit here again.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to have you here again,” Ellen greets you once the clapping has stopped.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. A lot has happened since the last time you were here, you won an Oscar just a few weeks ago, congratulations!”

The cheering starts again as a picture of you appears on the screen behind you, wearing your iconic pink gown, holding your Oscar in your hands.

“Thank you,” you shyly smile, still not entirely in peace with the fact that you are now an Oscar winning actress.

“Such a major thing, congrats.”

“Thank you, it is a huge thing, yes.”

“Do you already have a spot for the award? Does it have a designated place?”

“Well, for now it is in my study along with some more mementos, but I’m planning to have a little stand made in the living room,” you share your plans.

“Surely, I would want to show it off if I had an Oscar,” Ellen chuckles. “You have such a busy time behind you, have you been up to something new lately?”

“We finished filming the third season of The Umbrella Academy, so now I’m having a little break before I jump into anything new.”

“Sounds nice, you deserve all the relaxing. Anything planned while you’re on a break? A new book to read, or maybe a concert to go to?” she asks and you already know where this is heading.

“You know you can just ask if I’m planning to attend a Harry Styles concert,” you bluntly tell her, making the audience and Ellen laugh.

“Well, I was just asking around about your plans, but I’m happy you plan to visit Harry’s concert! It’s also good to know that the situation has changed since the last time you were here, you definitely have been to one of his concerts since then.”

“I have been, yes,” you admit smirking.

“And I assume the two of you are now very close, am I right?” she asks and suddenly a paparazzi photo of the two of you appears where you’re walking down the street hand in hand just a couple of weeks ago.

“You could say that,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Amazing, because he is going to join us now. Everyone, please welcome Harry Styles!” Ellen announces and turning around you spot Harry walking out from backstage, the audience screaming for him. He shyly waves around walking up to the center, greeting Ellen with a kiss on the cheek before he turns to you, pecking your lips shortly as he sits down next to you.

“Harry, so good to see you again,” Ellen smiles at him.

“Good t’ see you as well,” he nods.

“So, the last time you two were sitting here, you—it was the first time you ever met, right?”

“Right,” you nod with Harry.

“And now you are…” she gestures at the two of you, not finishing the sentence, but everyone knows what she meant by that.

“And now we are… not strangers anymore,” Harry says chuckling, making everyone in the studio laugh.

“Certainly,” Ellen nods. “Alright, I thought that we could play another game, just to bring back some nice memories,” she explains, reaching behind her armchair, grabbing the familiar board from her, flipping it in your hands with a nostalgic smile.

“Can we keep it PG rated though?” Harry asks, examining his board before looking up at Ellen.

“No,” she simply answers, reaching for her cards as the audience starts laughing. “Okay, you know how to play it, no need for explanation. Here is the first one: Never have I ever used my fame to get in somewhere.”

Ellen is quick to show the I HAVE side of her board and you slowly do the same while Harry thinks to himself.

“Oh come on, you surely have,” you elbow him playfully as he smirks in your way, holding up the same side as you and Ellen.

“We all have, it’s not a shame,” Ellen shrugs. “Next one. Never have I ever forgotten the name of someone right after they introduced themselves.”

Ellen holds up the I HAVE side and you do the same again while this time Harry flips it over to I HAVE NEVER confidently.

“Really?” Ellen asks him, surprised at his answer.

“I’m good with names,” he simply shrugs.

“That’s a good trait. Alright, let’s move on. Never have I ever punched someone in the face.”

It’s a sneaky and very shady statement. Just a few days after the incident with Levi, word got out that he was punched, a few blurry pictures floating around the internet of his bruise, then fans figured out it had to happen around the time Harry visited set and people were quick to put the picture together and assume that Harry was the one who hit Levi, but it was never confirmed.

Glancing at your boyfriend you are fighting your smile back, holding up the I HAVE NEVER side as he is looking back at you slyly, continuously flipping his board before it finally lands on I HAVE, the audience immediately rumbling at the partial confirmation and seemingly Ellen is also amazed by Harry’s honesty.

“Alright, interesting. Love that for you, Harry,” he comments making everyone laugh as you reach over and give Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Last one,” Ellen announces, reading the last statement from her cards. “Never have I ever fallen in love with someone I played never have I ever with.”

Ellen quickly shows her I HAVE NEVER side as you suck your lips into your mouth, glancing at Harry again. You share a look before you both slowly raise your boards, both reading the same sign on them: I HAVE.

[neeksnorton]

Prison Quickie // Abner Krill x Fem!Reader

hi there!! here's my newest story. I'm gonna format these a little differently, with a short description before the full story, and i'm gonna make the look a little more clean overall. i hope you guys enjoy! this was heavily requested.

~ You and Abner had been having a little romance going on at Belle Reve, until Amanda Waller assigns you two to Task Force X. You both need to feel each other one last time before you are sent on the mission to Corto Maltese. ~

NSFW TAGS : angst, crying, mutual masturbation, prison, slight exhibitionism, fear of getting caught, dirty talk, smutty

WORD COUNT : 2.3K

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

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms out. You let out a sigh and sit up. Another day in this stupid prison.

You slide out of bed and put on your shoes, then slide on your orange jumpsuit. The thought of having to eat the slop that the prison serves makes you sick. You make the conscious decision to try and skip breakfast if you don’t get caught.

“Mhhh- shit.” This fucking sucks. You push on your cell door, and to your surprise, it's unlocked . Breakfast must’ve already started, and the guards open all the cells around that time. Awesome.

Stumbling into the cafeteria, you squint your eyes looking for Ab. Where the fuck is he? You think to yourself.

He was probably still in his cell, as he had a habit of sleeping in late. Alright, then. You turn swiftly on your heel and begin to walk to Abner’s room in the cell block opposite to yours. You bump straight into Ms. Waller and her slew of guards.

Fuck. You know what she wants from you and you know damn well what your answer is.

“Are you serious??” You mutter. She gives you an expression you’ve seen so many times. Her eyes aren’t looking at you, but nearly THROUGH you, as if you aren’t even there. You know that you are NOTHING to her.

“No.” You sneer right in her face. “I’m not joining your dumbass squad thing.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, actually. You won’t. I don't give a flying shit about you or whatever the fuck you want from me. I'm already in fuckin' prison. My answer won’t change.”

She lets a long pause linger. The silence rings in your ears.

“I know who you're looking for. You won’t see him again unless you agree.”

There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

“No.” Your voice hitches in your throat.

“We got Abner Krill on the squad. You’re our last ask.”

Your jaw muscles clench. Shit. Tears well in your eyes but you shake them away. How did she convince him? She probably baited him with you. You and Abner had gotten… comfortable during your time at Belle Reve. Waller knew you loved him. She knew about your detailed affair with him. And she was determined to get rid of you two once and for all.

“You bitch! You dumb fucking bitch! He’s gonna die out there! You’re fucking crazy, you cunt! You’ve sentenced him to death and you know it!!!” You lunge at her while screaming obscenities. There was white hot rage in your chest. She’s purposefully taken the ONE thing you care about most. Just to get you on her dumb task force and probably die anyway.

Strong hands grab your arms and shoulders. The guards have your arms pinned behind you, forcing you to stop moving. You struggle, but you know there’s no use.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the briefing. Unless you want Krill to go alone.”

You roll your eyes and swallow hard.

“Fine,” You wiggle in the guards arms. “But if we come back and he’s not alive, mark my words- I will blow your fucking head off and feed it to that fucking shark...person...thing.”

“Sure.” She retorts. “See you at 8am sharp.”

The guards let you go and you practically shove them off of you. The only mission in your head right now is to find Abner. You have to see him. Before you two get sentenced to your drawn-out deaths tomorrow.

You sprint down the hall, the guards letting you go. They figured that they should let you see him one last time. No funny business though. Last time you went to his cell, they put you in confinement for sucking his dick. You almost laugh to yourself while recalling that memory.

You nearly trip while rounding a corner, and you finally make it to his cell, chest heaving from running so fast.

“Prisoner Abner Krill / Polka Dot Man. True Power Capacity: Unknown.”

Ew. It’s written like he’s not even a person. It pisses you off every time you see it.

You see him through his cell window. He’s laying on his side while clutching a pillow. Ah, man. He’s probably just trying to cope. You sigh heavily. Seeing him like this fucking sucks. He’s normally in a dismal mood, but this is different. He’s receiving a death sentence.

You give the door a couple gentle knocks.

“Knock knock, it’s me.”

“...Come in.”

You slowly take a seat on the side of the bed.

“Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

He rolls over to look at you, tears welling in his eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t wanna do it. I d-don’t wanna do it.” His lip quivers as he’s choking back tears. You lay down facing him and pull him into a hug.

“I know, honey. I know. Shh…” You make your best attempt to console him as he cries.

You feel his tears leaving a little spot on your shoulder. Fuck. There was nothing you could do other than hold him. You rub small circles on his upper back, and caress the nape of his neck with your fingers, twirling little bits of his hair. “Shhh… Shhh…”

He looks up at you, his eyes puffy and red.

“I love you. I love you so much. When Waller told me you were going to be on the Task Force I couldn’t let you go alone. I can’t let you go alone.”

“Wait, she told you already? When? I just came back from seeing her.”

“What? She told me last night you agreed to go.” He tilts his head in confusion.

Are you fucking serious? She baited Abner with you. He wouldn’t have fucking joined if she hadn’t done that.

“No, I just saw her. She just told me that she got you to get on the Squad.”

“Oh god…” He realizes that if he had said no, you probably both wouldn’t have gone. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry...” He starts crying again, shaking as he does so.

You were gonna find a way to kill Waller. You were gonna burn the fucking prison down with her in it. You push the rage away for a moment and sigh. You need to focus on Abner, he needs you.

“Stop, stop, It’s not your fault, you didn’t know…” You console him more, heart breaking for him. You didn’t want him to feel this way.

He starts to calm down a bit, and you cradle his tear stained face. “I nearly fucking killed her when she said you were going to be on the Squad, if that makes you feel any better.” You chuckle.

“R-really?”

“Of course, you fucking dummy.” You smile and kiss him, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“Okay, let’s change the subject. No power dampener today?”

He giggles. “No, they took it off, but that means my virus is gonna progress like normal. So instead of expelling the dots once a week, it’s twice a day, like when I was a kid.”

“Ohhh. But at least you don’t have to wear that fucking thing on your neck anymore.”

“True.” He chuckles. You’re trying your absolute best to get his mind off of the situation. A couple more tears form, glistening under the flickering light of his cell.

“You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.” You kiss him again, a little more passionately this time.

His lips melt into yours. He lets you hold him, finding the closeness comforting. You use your thumbs to swipe away the tears falling down his cheeks. You tilt his chin up to gain access to his neck, lapping at the skin. You can still slightly taste some of his tears. He lets out a small whimper.

His hand moves from his side to your waist, snaking his hand up your shirt. You inhale sharply, his cold hands a striking contrast to your warm skin.

“Ahhh- Ab, are you sure? We could get caught again and-"

He places small kisses on your cheeks while whispering. “Please- I want to, p-please…I just need a distraction from what’s h-happening and I need to be close with you before we g-go tomorrow…”

You sigh. Honestly, it’s not the worst thing if you get caught. They can’t really do anything now that you’ve been assigned to Task Force X.

“Okay. Let’s just keep quiet.”

You slide your hand under the front of his shirt, lifting it up just a tad to see his happy trail. You desperately want to lift it more, just to see more of his skin. But you can’t. The guards know what’s up with you and Abner. They will separate you two if necessary.

The feeling of possibly being caught was thrilling. It made your heart pound so loud you could hear it in your ears. He kisses you feverishly.

“Oh Ab…” You moan into his mouth. Your pussy was aching. He had barely started touching you, and you wanted another fix of him so bad. It had been weeks. He pulls you in closer, digging his fingers into your back, craving to feel more of your soft flesh.

You wriggle your hands around his hips and pull him closer as well, his bulge against your center.

“Oh my god…” Abner winced. He was painfully hard. He wanted to feel every inch of you, and feel your insides warmly wrapped around his length. But he knows that’s not possible right now. You traced your finger across his girth.

“Ab… I need to feel you, nghh- I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I don’t, ahh…”

“I know, I know. Unzip your pants, quickly.”

As you swiftly unzip your pants, his hand grips your chest, lightly pinching your nipple through the t-shirt. Your back can’t help but arch, and a squeaky moan escapes your lips.

His hand moves down, squeezing your flesh through your orange canvas shirt. He starts sucking and lapping your neck, loving the taste of you and wishing to feel every inch of your soft skin. He uses his free hand to unzip his pants as well. You feel your arousal leaking through your panties, and his touch feels electrifying on your skin. Every point of contact between him and you makes your clit ache for friction. Your hands tangle in his midnight black hair.

His hand cups your heat, and he slowly runs his fingers through your folds. You squirm for more, but you don't think he's getting the hint.

“Quit teasing me p-please- I need you.”

“Oh, s-sorry, I didn’t realize-”

‘It’s okay, shh.”

His slender fingers meet your clit, and he gasps at how wet you already are for him. Abner circles his finger pad expertly around your clit, and the relief of sexual tension almost makes you cum.

“Wait wait wait…” You say, he pauses and looks at you, with his big beautiful brown eyes. You free his cock from his pants, and quickly lick your palm. He’s incredibly hard, not to mention big as well. He breathily moans as you begin to stroke his cock. He returns to playing with your clit. Your arms are crossed over each other, both mutually getting each other off.

He’s getting sweaty now, his hair sticking to his forehead. Your chests are both heaving from the feeling of each other’s touch. His eyes dart around the room, checking on the window to make sure there are no guards out front.

You decide to tease him a little, knowing that dirty talk is something that he always wants from you.

“Yeah baby, you like that? I bet you wish you could be inside me right now…” He groans, your words bringing him closer and closer to his peak.

“Does that feel good baby? I’m sure it does…”

“Fuck, please don’t stop, honey-” His bottom lip quivers. “I’m gonna cum, I- I’m gonna- shit…” He releases his spend onto you, hips bucking erratically into your hand. He clearly hadn’t gotten off in a while, it must've been since the last time you two did this, nearly 3 weeks ago.

He doesn’t stop playing with your clit, rubbing small and fast circles with a perfect amount of pressure.

“Yes, Abbie keep going- mmh-”

Your eyes dart up and see a guard walking down the hall. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Ah!! Abbie quick, theres a g-guard, ahh-”

“Oh! Shit okay okay okay…” He speeds up and your orgasm rocks you to your core. Your muscles involuntarily flex, sadly clenching around nothing. You exhale and nuzzle into Abner’s shoulder as you come down. You can feel his heart beating fast.

You quickly zip up your pants, as does he. You run over to the sink and rinse off your hand, cleaning Abner’s cum. You look behind you out the window. There’s three guards, and they're getting closer.

You dive back into the bed and lay on top of him. He holds you tightly, like if he let you go, you’d never come back.

He kisses your forehead. You know the guard is coming to separate you.

“Abner, the guard-”

“Shh. Just enjoy this moment before he comes in, it’s okay-”

The door slams open, making you jump. He points at you aggressively. “YOU. OUT, NOW!!”

Another guard from behind him storms and yanks you off of him, causing you to slam your head face-first onto the tile.

“NO!!” Abner nearly screams, reaching for you. He could almost feel the pain you were in, causing tears to start falling.

“Ahh- fuck.” Your nose was definitely broken, the dark blood dripping onto the piercingly white tile.

“Y/N, oh my god.. STOP!!” Abner yells, the pain in his voices aches in your chest. There are two guards this time, they pick you up by your arms with ease. You don’t really have the strength to fight back. Hitting your head made you feel pretty woozy.

A part of you was almost mad at him. He knew the consequences of you going in there and touching him. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. You agreed to go in, and you agreed to jerk him off. This definitely meant that you were gonna spend the rest of the night in solitary confinement.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I love you…” His voice trails off as you are dragged to your new cell. You see Abner bury his face in his hands. Ah, man.

[violetarks]

"that's isn't good, now, is it?"

anime: tokyo revengers

characters: sano 'mikey' manjiro, mitsuya takashi

summary: that event was all y/n needed to make a decision. the brawl is upon them now.

warnings: spoilers and same warnings as always, yknow, the usual, 'tu merde! que faites-vous?' = 'you shit! what are you doing?' (thank you google translate), masterlist here

taglist: @chaoticyuna @eriskaitto @kenmas-xbox @chosoisbaby @lagrimasdeglitter @kamikoii @achoomoos @netzukochannn @tomanprincess @ultraviolencezs @rqnslut @sugusshi

"Let's get our things to the house first." Mitsuya says, his motor on like the rest of the bikes. The roads were cold and the hospital had already talked to them all. They would send Emma to a place to be taken care of. Draken texted Y/N, asking about when they should hold the funeral. She said on December 28th.

Chifuyu nods his head. "Right. Then to the meeting." He sighs, "Everyone text their Divisions, word will spread fast since the brawl is soon."

They do as they're told, then drive off to grab all the necessary things from their houses. Mitsuya calls Luna and Mana, saying to get ready for a big sleepover at Y/N's with Chifuyu and Draken as well. Takemichi said he would be keeping Hina company, which they had all agreed to.

Mitsuya had asked Takemichi where Y/N went. When he explained that she was just going on a drive and would meet up at the gathering in half an hour, Mitsuya was a little worried. He meant it before when he said that he didn't believe any of them should be alone. And with Y/N's outburst before, she needed it the most.

A few minutes later, he stands outside of Y/N's house, Mana and Luna holding the back of his jacket, dressed up warm. Mitsuya unlocks the door, pushing it open and allowing his sisters to go first. Mikey is in the living room, helping Draken push the couch further back and the table away. They were setting up some space for Draken and Chifuyu to stay in. They were also convinced that the others would come and sleep in the same room too.

"Okay, you two, go and fix up your things." Mitsuya says, patting the top of Mana's head, "I'll help Mikey and Draken."

The girls nod their heads, making their way upstairs. Luna mutters out, "Let's go say 'hi' to Emma."

Mana nods her head.

"Don't go into her room." Mitsuya calls, widening his eyes and hikdiung out a hand to stop them. His sisters stop and look at him weirdly. He hadn't told them.

He doesn't know how to tell them. Draken and Mikey look away, continuing their jobs. "Y/N... doesn't want anyone touching her things. Got it? Listen to her."

Mana holds onto Luna's hand, as if sensing something was wrong. She whispers to her older sister, "If Big Sis says so."

Luna sighs, nodding her head and making her way with Mana behind her. They enter their room, and Mitsuya gives a breath of relief.

"What should I do?" Mitsuya questions, looking around the room. They had already taken out their blankets and such. The space was definitely big enough.

"You should tell them." Draken states.

All three of them know that wasn't what he was asking.

"Before it's too late." Mikey goes on goes on, sitting on the couch. Both his and Draken's eyes are puffy and red. It's obvious they'd been tearing up a little more at home. "Emma's funeral is in six days. Don't make them hate you because you tried to protect them."

Mitsuya watches him with knowing eyes. He runs a hand over his face, closed eyes. "I'll tell them tonight. After the meeting." He tells them, craning his neck back, "The conflict between Toman and Clair de Lune is in two days."

Draken nods his head. "Enough time for everyone to get their head on straight." He says, rubbing his temple.

There's knocking on the door and Mitsuya is the first one to go get it. He opens it to see Chifuyu, holding his bag and his... cat?

"Peke J is going to sleep over too." Chifuyu states, setting the pet on the floor. The black animal lands gracefully before sniffing around. The cat had been over plenty of times. "Where should I put my things?"

They continue to do what they needed, Peke J going upstairs to play with the younger siblings of Mitsuya. It takes a while, a good 15 more minutes, before they think about where she is.

And there Y/N sits, on the stone barrier with the wind blowing through her hair.

The same cold wind that made her want to jump.

For some reason.

For any reason.

"Do you think she'd be happy with where she was?" Y/N questions, watching the water beneath her get pushed by the breeze, "In life, I mean. With me, Draken, Mikey... Do you think she was happy?"

"I don't know." One responds, swinging his feet beside Y/N as she was doing. Slowly. His hair pushed against his shoulder. "Did she say that she regretted anything? While she was passing away?"

Y/N stares at the two of them. She blinks a few times before pressing her hands against the scarf on her lap. "No. But she talked about all the things she wanted to do in the future." She explained, twiddling her thumbs, "She never got to do those things. So I just thought..."

"You're not the best at seeing people's real selves, I should say." The other guy explains, rubbing his tattoo gently, "It's not your fault, it's just..."

Y/N stares at her brother and his best friend.

Hanemiya Kazutora gives a sigh, facing the horizon in front of them, "You love to view people as what you make them yourself, more-so the people you just want to like. Not what they really are. Like, Kisaki, you absolutely hate, and that's justifiable."

Baji nods his head along with it. "Kisaki is a douche." He claims.

This guy is the splitting image of that kid who was older than Y/N, who Kazutora had originally planned for Y/N to date. The guy who, when younger, had clung onto her jacket as the two faced Mikey after the accident. His hair is long and smooth, wearing the same Valhalla jacket as his childhood friend beside him.

Kazutora's wolf-cut is the same as before, dual-hair and all. It's flowy in the wind and his earring chimes along with the movement. His Vahalla jacket barely touches her. That small space, where she knows that if his jacket did brush against her, she wouldn't be able to feel it. Because neither Kazutora or Baji are there with her.

When her brother turns his head towards her, she can see the matching earing of this year. Y/N places a finger on her own earring, the same one.

She gives a look to the side.

"But... people like me, you choose to love, no matter what they are really like." Kazutora tells her, an awkward smile on his lips.

Baji huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "You're still friends with me, Y/N. I set your teacher's car on fire once. I'm dangerous, and yet you still love me."

"You've always protected me, Keisuke." She reminds him, tilting her head.

"I'm a murderer." Kazutora jumps in, facing Y/N as she stares back at him. "I killed your ex-boyfriend's brother. I'm as fucked up as you are now, just differently. But you still love me."

Y/N lifts her shoulders, holding herself together. As much as she can. "We're family, Kazutora."

His brows furrow as he scowls, "Our parents fucking suck. There was no family. Only us. They're the reason we're like this." He points at his younger sister. "You only recently in these years realised how shitty they are. Because they weren't 'perfect' because of you — that's what you thought. I always knew they were assholes."

She frowns. Of course she always had that feeling that her parents weren't what parents were... meant to be.

Baji mutters out, "The point is, sometimes you just have to figure people out by what they say. If they lie, then that gives you all the shit you need to know. But if it's the truth, you don't need to dig any deeper." He sends her a half-grin. "Some people are just upfront with you."

Y/N nods her head, looking to the sky. "So you're saying that Emma was happy with how she lived?" She hums, "Maybe. She said that she wanted me to be happy with how I live too."

Kazutora nods his head too. "Good. All you have to do is get through the deepest bump in the road, then you'll be set." He encourages, turning around and standing up. Baji follows after, signature smirk on his lips. She watches them both carefully. "Get through the worst."

"I think..." She hums out and faces the horizon again, playing with Emma's scarf as the breeze flows against her, "... that this is it."

Kazutora gives her one final look, a gentle tilt of his head before he leaves. Baji pats his shoulders, following along.

It's now quiet.

That was new.

Y/N has only ever seen Kazutora. But not Baji. And she feels like this is another step in the process, however does not know in which direction. These versions of Baji and Kazutora seemed to be able to balance each other out perfectly. One was rowdy and loud, and the other was more collected and on track.

Maybe with Baji there, she could be in her right mind when seeing her brother.

Emma was always a sort of peace-maker when it came to Y/N and Draken.

While Mitsuya and Chifuyu were more mature about it and tried to come to a clean conclusion, which usually took longer than necessary because of the two opposing parties' stubbornness, Emma just simply told them to suck it up and go with her idea instead. And there was no way they'd say 'no' to Emma. Not with her puppy eyes and pouts.

Without her, there will be no peace.

Y/N wipes a hand over her face.

She pulls out her phone and sorts through her contacts, finding the name of her club's Vice-Captain. She hesitates for a moment, watching the number and name stay in the same place on her screen. But she knows that she cannot run away.

Y/N presses on the contact and holds the phone to her ear.

It answers a few seconds later.

"Hey, Hanemiya!" Kawasaki calls out, a light chuckle to his tone. He was obviously having a good time, wherever he was. "How's your break? I'm at my family's dinner party, the one out of town that I was telling you about, sorry if it's a bit loud."

"It's alright, Kawasaki." She retorts, keeping her voice at a neutral level, "Are you busy? I have to tell you something."

Kawasaki can sense that something is wrong by the way her voice sounds. He steps outside for a moment. "No, no, I'm free right now." He says, furrowed brows, "Is something wrong? You sound upset."

This guy was a friend of Emma's as well. He got along with her and Hina if they all stayed in the club room while she worked. So he had a right to know.

"Emma died."

...

"What did you say?"

"She was hit in the head by a pipe, and the assailant got away." Y/N explains, "She died today, in hospital. Draken and I tried to get her there as fast as possible, but it... wasn't good enough."

Kawasaki runs fingers through his hair. He holds his breath, trying to collect himself. "Hanemiya, it wasn't your fault." He tells her, "I'm sorry for your loss, and I wish I could be there for you. I'll be coming home on the 26th, so I will meet you then. Please, stay close to your friends at home, especially Tachibana and Hanagaki. I know they can be there for you."

"I know, Kawasaki." She replies. Y/N closes her eyes for a few seconds. "Thank you. The funeral will be on the 28th, I hope you can make it."

"Hanemiya..." He says in a quiet tone. He looks to his shoes, other hand in his pocket. "I'm here for you, alright? Even when I'm graduated, you have my number. You're never alone, you can always call out when you need to."

Y/N gives a sort of smile. "Yeah... Yeah, thanks, Kawasaki." She huffs out, rubbing her eyes, "Sorry to drop this on you. Tell your family that I wish them a good Christmas and New Years."

Kawasaki nods his head. "I will. Thanks for telling me." He responds, "Don't be a stranger, okay? I'll answer whenever you need me."

"Goodnight, Kawasaki."

"I wish you the best, Hanemiya."

Y/N hangs up the phone, placing it back into her pocket. The only time that Kawasaki has gotten a glance at her, for real.

The wind blows harder. And the scarf flows away from her palm, but still within reach.

"Shit." She scoffs to herself.

She widens her eyes and leans former without a thought, hand reaching out. Her fingers brush against the material, but only pushes it further along. She furrows her brows in annoyance. The ledge begins to slip from beneath her.

"Be careful there, Commander."

She feels someone behind her, making her hold her breath.

Another arm reaches out and grabs the scarf. She notices the Toman jacket sprawled over their sleeve. Once the scarf is held tightly, the arms lay upon her shoulders, a chin on the top of her head. That makes her believe that it's either Mitsuya, Mikey, Hina or Emma borrowing their boyfriends' things.

Mitsuya, Mikey or Hina.

"Don't want you ruined before our little quarrel with Clair de Lune."

And she recognises the voice.

A part of her almost wishes she fell.

"Get off of me." Y/N sighs, closing her eyes and leaning away. Her hands are on her knees as she lifts her arms a little.

"Aw, come on, Commander! Don't be like that!" Hanma chuckles, patting her shoulders and pulling away. He raises a brow as she turns to him. His hand raises and she leans away, only for him to wipe some blood from her forehead. "Jesus, Captain, who the Hell did this to you? Hit your head too hard, 'ay?"

She widens her eyes before feeling her forehead for herself. The blood is a little dried out, but still some liquid padded her fingertips. Mikey was always hard-headed, she should've known. Y/N holds her breath before feeling the wound. A shallow cut. Just upon her hairline.

She flinched, lifting her shoulders.

"Nothing." She wipes her blood on her pants. "Don't mention it. Ever again." She scoffs out, begin to feel a headache coming on. She'll quickly go home and get it fixed.

The guy in front of her raises a brow.

He sighs, "Why are you acting so cold to me?"

"Like I've ever warmed up to you, Hanma." Y/N finds herself squeezing her eyes shut before glaring at him. "You're on thin fucking ice tonight." She scowls, shoving him away and standing on the bridge, rubbing her neck.

She snatches the scarf from him, not sparing a friendly glance his way.

Hanma, as if it was a once in a lifetime event, suddenly grows serious. It sends her a string of cautiousness throughout her body.

"What happened?" He questions.

Y/N stares at him for a while. Because she doesn't know whether or not he'll burst out laughing. Hanma was a sick guy, or maybe just messed up. But either way, Y/N didn't know what to do.

Her sister would tell her to be honest.

"Emma was murdered." She informs one of her Toman members, seeing how Hanma's eyes widen a little before setting. She notices his reaction, kept to a minimal, but still there.

A silence.

"My condolences." Hanma sighs out, letting his head dip a little. She squints at him. More confusion and suspicion floods through her system. However he shrugs it off, poking her forehead. "But I meant about your head. Not about... whatever this is."

He gestures to her whole appearance. Red eyes and everything.

Now anger rushes in Y/N's blood. How dare he brush that off so easily?

She clenches her jaw, lifting a hand and wrapping fingers around his wrist. She pulls his hand away from her face and shoves it into his chest. "That's none of your fucking business, you asshole. I don't have time for your bullshit." She huffs out, "Get to the meeting."

He raises a brow, heading to his bike that's parked beside hers.

A smirk plays upon his lips, almost as if he thrived off the annoyance she was feeling. "Ya' mean the meeting that you're supposed to be at, 'eh? Not very reliable of you, Y/N." He chuckles, revving his bike. He watched as she rolled her eyes at him. "Let's get going, hot shot."

"Don't refer to me." She growls, driving off with Hanma close behind.

"Don't refer to you as what?" He questions.

Y/N glares at him from her side view mirror.

"At all."

The meeting is full. All of the hundreds of people are there. They were split into Divisions, giving Y/N a clear view of who was present. The first two stand at the front, Takemichi and Chifuyu speaking to Mitsuya and Hakkai at the pathway in between them. The Third and Fourth Divisions are next, then the Fifth and Sixth.

Draken is sitting on his bike, looking at the time. The meeting was meant to start five minutes ago. He gives a sigh, closing his eyes. He wanted to be home, in bed. Just... resting. He needed to keep himself together, like a recharge. Without Emma, he'd be having trouble.

"Sorry I'm late." Y/N says, parking behind Draken.

The winter air pushes against her shoulders gently. She fixes her mask, the one she wore to keep her identities separate. Y/N had changed, now in her Toman uniform. Only one difference. " Had to deal with something."

Draken nods his head before looking over her shoulder. "The Hell is that douchebag with you?" He scowls, furrowing his brows as Y/N puts her keys in her pocket. Hanma gives the taller man a wave with a grin. "Mitsuya said he was about to send Hakkai after him."

Y/N shrugs her shoulders. "Found me at the bridge and wouldn't leave me alone." She huffs, feeling her bandage over her wound. She pressed against it and walked towards the entrance. "Come on. The fight is the day after tomorrow."

Draken follows after, giving Hanma a look. He states, "Let's get our shit together."

The murmurs grow quiet as soon as they see Hanma join the Second Division. Mitsuya raises a brow, tilting his head back. "Don't ever be late again." He demands, crossing his arms disapprovingly, "Toman's meetings are important, you don't get the luxury of skipping whenever you please."

Hanma rolls his eyes, giving Kisaki, who was standing behind Mikey and Kuniki and watching him, a look to say 'get a load of this guy'. Kisaki waves his hands to dismiss it. Hanma then turns back to Mitsuya. "Yes, Captain, Sir." He says, lazily saluting the guy.

Mitsuya's brow twitches before allowing him to join his Division.

"Listen up!" Draken calls, getting everyone's attention. He stands on top of the stairs, above the rest of them. "Tonight's meeting will begin! Greet your Commander!"

Y/N walks forward. The members of Toman begin to gasp.

How could both of their leaders be so beaten up? Why was Y/N patched up so badly, even more than Draken? He was always the one protecting her. It seemed to be the other way around.

Nobody even suspected Mikey, who had really just returned to make things better between him and everyone in Toman. No one would've guessed he was the reason for their damages. Mikey has his hands behind his back, watching them carefully.

There's a pause. Y/N nor Draken call out for the greeting once more. They understand. The conflict hasn't even begun.

"Good evening, Commander!" A voice calls.

Everyone's eyes are on Takemichi. He is bowing, a confident and focused look on his face. He isn't phased at all by what is presented in front of them. At least, he won't allow them to see it.

Chifuyu follows right after his Captain. "Afternoon, Commander!" He says.

Then the rest go.

Toman shouts out, "Evening, Commander!"

Y/N watches with slightly widened eyes. She nods her head once, allowing the rest of them to stand up straight. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets, hands in fists as she stares at them all. She blinks a few times.

"At ease." She retorts, bringing a hand to rub her neck, "As you all know, the conflict between Toman and Clair de Lune is in two days. I hope you've all been training hard and looking after yourselves."

There's another pause, but this time for Y/N. Draken glances at her, now understanding what she was about to say. They all had a right to know, especially since Emma had been so nice to everyone who spoke to her. He faces forward, shoulders straight and chin up.

"Today at around 5:00, Sano Emma was announced dead in hospital." She exclaims, earning shocked expressions from the whole of Toman.

Mitsuya rubs his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. Not out of annoyance, but out of worry. He looks over to the twins, Angry and Smiley. Angry's eyes were wide as always, hands tightly fisted at his sides. The Captain in front of him had his smile falter, soon dropping as his brows raise, realisation setting in. Hakkai raises his brows, lips parting slightly as he turns to Mitsuya. And his friend has his eyes on Y/N.

"The boss's sister passed away?" Someone in Mikey's Division whispers amongst themselves, "Isn't she our age? How could she die at such a young age?"

Mikey turns his head a little. This was from the newest group of Toman members. Perhaps they didn't know how Mikey was related to Emma. They only know of Y/N, regardless of who their former leader fought for.

Another guy whispers back, "The Commander is younger than her, do you think she tried to fight off whoever hurt Emma? That would explain why Commander and Vice-Commander are bandaged so much."

Y/N finds herself wanting to step down, sit on the stairs and just have a real talk with the gang members in front of her. She wants just one time, just once, to be real with them. "Draken and I were dropping her off at work, when she went to the back door to open up." She explains, hands in her pocket, "And there she was attacked, hit in the side of her head by a pipe. When we arrived, we saw two people, both wearing jackets with the Clair de Lune name on the back."

That erupts shouts from the crowd. She can feel all of the pain within their hearts, but can not do anything to help. She lifts herself up as the noise quiets down.

"I want to know what you all have to say about this." She says.

She gives them a moment to say whatever they want to about Clair de Lune.

"Such scumbags! Who the Hell do they think they are, goin' after Commander's sister like that?" Someone shouts, "We outta' kill 'em all!"

Others around that guy begin to join in, saying how they agreed and that Mikey and Y/N didn't deserve this.

"That's a low blow!"

"Emma isn't even a part of Toman!"

"How could they be so savage and heartless?"

A breath releases from the Commander's lips as she holds up her hand to cease the noise. It then grows quiet.

"Draken?" Y/N whispers out, turning to her Vice-Commander.

The tall 19-year-old watches as Y/N looks at him with such hope. This is her protector, the one who must guide her with her best intentions in mind, no ulterior motive at all.

Ryuguji Ken must help Hanemiya Y/N, she needs someone to just be that figure she can lean on.

Kazutora is standing behind Draken.

That's who Y/N is looking at.

"We go on with the conflict." Is all Draken tells her.

That's all the guidance she needs now, giving a nod of her head and turning back to her group.

"This was a declaration of war." She calls, lifting her chin high, "We are now 100% never joining Clair de Lune. I will not take any feedback on the situation."

Yells and agreements shroud the area, making the Captains join along. They would stand behind Y/N for whatever she agreed to.

Y/N announces, hands clasped in her pockets, "Anybody who chooses to join Clair de Lune, will be an enemy to the Tokyo Manji Gang."

For some reason, she waits. A silence blankets over the crowd.

"Huh? Commander, you really think any of us would go over to their side after this?" Smiley laughs out, shaking his head. Y/N widens her eyes at him. "We ain't stupid! Anybody willing to trade sides are gonna' die tonight, ya' hear me?"

Angry nods his head along with his brother. "Right! If you got something to say to oppose, speak up!" He looks to the rest of Toman, yelling out, "We'll settle it out here n' now!"

A smile dawns on her lips before she lowers her head.

"I love those twins." She chuckles to Draken.

"Good thing they're riled up for Christmas Eve." He retorts.

Y/N turns back to the gang. "Wonder what they'll call this fight." She hums.

Draken shakes his head. "We've had 'Bloody Halloween' four years ago, 'New Years Grave' two years ago, and 'Broken Valentine's Day' this year." He lists, "Emma got mad that I had to reschedule our date that day."

Y/N smiles at the memory of Emma being so angry at the both of them for that. She ignored Draken and Y/N for a few days, until they both bought Emma her a bunch of Valentine's Day chocolates and teddy bears.

A lot of them were Y/N's, from her anonymous senders at school, who stuffed them in her shoe locker as well as in her desk compartment.

But Emma doesn't know that.

She should tell her.

Christmas Eve . . .

"How long until they arrive?" Clair de Lune's 23-year-old Vice-Commander Lémieux questions his superior, "We agreed to meet here, and the clock is ticking. Why do we waste time with a pitiful gang like Toman?"

The 19-year-old Head Commander, Lemaire, shakes his head. "Be patient. This group is strong, considering how much they've lost." He huffs out, "And it's run by a Hanemiya, the one who dated the past Leader. Do you know pf her history?"

Lémieux only gives a sigh, "Yeah, everyone knows of Bloody Halloween. Baji Keisuke was an exceptional fighter, it's a shame."

"Other than that." Lemaire huffs in return, "She and Kazutora grew up in an abusive household and after Bloody Halloween and Kazutora's funeral, Y/N's parents left town without her, didn't even fight for her to come with. She's been living in the Sano household for the past four years, and she has managed to live two lives. One as a sweet high school student, and another as Toman's first female leader."

Lémieux doesn't care for her or Toman. They aren't as good as they were before, in terms of respect. Of course, there was more people in the gang, but that's only because more and more gangs were trying to overtake Toman. It didn't turn into fear of Toman, but for others to think those losing groups were only weak.

What did Y/N have to do to prove herself, huh?

"It doesn't matter what these lowlife gangs think, Toman is growing in numbers and will soon rise up in power." Lemaire explains, shrugging his shoulders, "If Toman joins Clair de Lune, that'll be another prefecture owned, and If we get them at a lower point like this, it'll be easier to bring them in."

Lémieux groans, wiping his face, "Our 750 fighters will be here for ages. If we tire them out now, then that'll leave no space for our 'meeting' tomorrow."

"This is more important than the sub-group flying back to France to take care of that traitor." Lemaire huffs.

"Are you hearing yourself, Commander?" Lémieux groans, "We are dealing with children, Lemaire, what do we need to possess them for?"

Lemaire raises a brow at his Vice-Commander, going to say something when he hears the hushed whispers of his men. That makes him turn to where the rest of them are.

"Damn, didn't really think it was true about their Commander being a chick." Captain Gardinier, head of the Division who sent the letter to Y/N, chuckles out, tilting his head. He has a hand on his hip. "17-year-old Hanemiya leading a gang of 600 against ours of 750. Wonder how this will fare."

Lemaire smiles. "It's about time." He hums, walking forward in front of the group, "She doesn't appear happy, does she, Lémieux?"

The said man stands beside him. "Not at all. Perhaps she's deciding against our offer." He comments.

"Well." Lemaire tilts his head, a grin playing on his lips, "That isn't good, now, is it?"

Mikey and Mitsuya are walking side by side.

"Do you think we're making the right decision?" Mikey questions, not sparing a glance as he sizes up the people across from them. Plenty. Looking either the same age as the first members of Toman, or older. That's a problem.

"Whatever Y/N wants, she will go through with." Mitsuya replies, "It doesn't matter if it's the right decision, it's hers."

Mikey nods his head. "She looks determined. Nothing is going to change her mind, huh?" He states.

The lavender-haired guy then chuckles, "Of course. She didn't take all that time getting ready just to look unprofessional."

"I can't believe you guys kept that 'bandage waist' tradition." Mikey shakes his head.

Y/N has her Toman jacket laid over her shoulders, blowing in the wind as she continued to walk. Her gaze was set ahead. Bandages wrapped around her upper body, covering her skin from the top of her pants to an inch below her chest. The rest was covered by a short-sleeve shirt, the bottom stuffed in the bandages. Her hair was fixed for occasion and her pants put tighter into her white combat boots. She just looked like the leader.

Draken can't help the obvious scowl on his face. He glares at the leader, the one responsible for Emma's death. The jackets. They should all be burnt to the ground and never remembered. This whole gang deserves nothing.

"Don't get out of hand." He tells Y/N, despite what he feels, "This is only regarding Toman rejecting Clair de Lune's offer. Emma's passing is a factor of our choice, understand?"

Y/N sighs out, scratching her cheek covered with her mask, "I know. Don't worry. Just keep yourself in check, alright?"

They are now close enough to speak to Clair de Lune's leader, as well as the other five Division Captains there. Of course back up was attending the meeting in case. Y/N took note of the jackets and their appearances. Older.

Lemaire is the first to speak, a friendly smile on his lips. "Welcome, Tokyo Manji Gang." He hums happily, "Thank you all for meeting us here. My name is Lemaire and this is my Vice Lémieux."

Y/N notes out loud, "Your Japanese is good."

He laughs back, "Of course. I must be if I am to take over this country."

She glares at him, along with Draken and Mikey. She doesn't laugh along, only hating him more. She tugs her mask off, stuffing it in her pocket. "Toman rejects your offer, Clair de Lune." She claims, "We are not looking to work under a mother organisation, and wish for you to leave us alone. Or else we will be forced to take you out of the equation."

Lemaiee raises his brows. He looks over to Lémieux, seeing if he understands it as well. His Vice nods his head. Lemiee glances back at Y/N. "That... is a shame. I was hoping you were smart." He sighs. He grows serious, making Y/N watch him carefully. "It seems you and Toman will shrivel out with nothing left to be remembered by."

Y/N scowls, "Do not threaten my gang."

"I suppose this means war, Hanemiya." Lemaire states, "An agreement is all that is needed to save yourself and your... family here—"

A small jump and a swift kick to his shoulder, making Lemaire zoom to the ground with a pained grunt, wincing and all. She glares at his with open eyes, landing with her body facing slightly away from him.

Her hands are clenched at her sides as she growls to him, "You don't get to talk about my family, you pretentious douchebag."

Lémieux grits his teeth and draws a punch, grabbing Y/N by the collar of her shirt and tugging harshly. "Tu merde! Que faites-vous?" He yells at her, making Y/N's brow twitch at the words used.

Draken steps forward and lifts Lémieux hand off of her, shoving him back. "Hands off of our Commander." He demands.

Y/N's eyes never leave Lemaire as he stands up, rolling his shoulder to ease out the pain. Yet he smiles at Y/N, who glares harder at that.

He sighs, "There she is."

"Get ready to fight." Mikey warns the rest of Toman.

Lemaire spreads his arms out, signalling the rest of his men to walk forward. His call ring throughout the area devoid of any other civilians.

"Toman's Redemption has finally Arrived!"

[moonandflowersfairy]

breath, love // rindou x g.n! reader

genre — hurt / comfort

warnings — breakdowns, crisis, implied panic attack

wc — 578

request — Hii ! I go by J , i saw your requests are open so i tought i might try to request . I apologise if my request mde you uncomfortable in any way or if it doesn't make sense- Could i request a hurt/comfort scenario/headcanons ( whatever ur more comfy with ) with eighter Sanzu or/and Rindo ? Ive been pretty overwhelmed lately because i have extra classes and my grades are rlly bad- Im allways exhausted and i can barely get any sleep or even eat . So maybe the character comforting the reader after they break down because they feel like they're not good enough and because their parents r putting a lot of pressure on them ? Again i apologise if i made any spelling mistakes or if what i wrote dosent make any sense ! Feel free to ignore my request if it makes you unconfortable or if you dont want to wirte it !Thank you and have a great day/night !

A.N — Im so sorry for not posting this earlier J, I was going through something similar and honestly I didn't have a mind for anything, hope you are better and lots of light and love to you <3 (I don't write for Sanzu, excuses in advance)

he came in the afternoon, closing the front door of you house, heading straight to your room. he was late and he knew it, everything he wanted was to be with you but business came accross and he could not ignore it.

sobbing could be heard feet away from your door, panic started to arise in his body and when he open the door he almost cried, the sight of you shattered his soul in pieces, your eyes were puffy, your lips and nose were red from crying, tears streaming down your face uncontrolably, you were holding your chest, sign that you were having problems breathing. he almost froze in that moment but you were more important, he inmediately went to you, holding you in his arms, he started counting from 1 to 5, trying to get you to follow him.

you felt somewhat ashamed of your state, this had happened to you a few times before but never in front of someone else, and you didn't want rindou to find you in that state, vulnerability is difficult to show, you were a mess, a 'controled mess' as you liked to say, it wasn't necessary for him to see you in this position you thought, everything was under control you thought, but you couldn't be more wrong.

incoherent words came out of you plus the fact you couldn't properly breath. you followed his direction, his voice was calming and soothing, his arms held you closely to his body, providing warmth to your fragile body.

once you calmed down, he gave you a hug, waiting for you to talk, he wasn't good with words so he waited, and waited, and he would always wait, only when you were ready you said to him how school was hard and your parents were crushing you, how the pressure was too much to bare, how everything accumulated, how many sleepless nights you had, how complicated things were turning out, how you really felt. tears and tears flooded and you were tired of holding them back. rindou tave you a space and time to let it all out, he gave you security to be you, with everything it camed with.

he was so assuring even if he didn't say anything, he just watched and contemplated with empathy, your body acted on its own hugging him so tightly you could swear he was uncomfortable, but nothing of the matter. he palmed your back very gently and said "breathe, love, this that you feel is valid, you are valid. take a break on everything and focus on yourself, and never forget to breath" giving you a kiss on the forehead. it seemed like he was crying too but who wdre you to judge, you didn't care about that, you couldn't even think straight anymore, a wave of emotions and thoughts cane out of you harshly, not giving you time to analyze your situation, tears replaced words.

it was one of your most intimate moments, just you two being vulnerable and opening up to each other, trust building up and love florishing from the bottom of your hearts.

rindou never saw you as weak, never doubted your needs and actions, he was very certain that this was what you needed, him.

maybe he came late to you, maybe he should have noticed before, but you where with him in that instant and that's what mattered the most.

[gurlwithluvx3]

never alone (2) | OT7

Pairing: friendships w/ OT7 and pregnant!reader (non-idol!AU)

Genre: angst, oc finding herself

Warnings: brief mention of sex, anxiety/depression, feeling of loneliness, talks of pregnancy, navigating an unexpected pregnancy

Word count: ~1.5K

Author's Note: i started this fanfic when i thought i was pregnant (very important for y'all to practice safe sex, srs) and i know that my ex would be a dead-beat, toxic man who wouldn't step up and just added the boys because i know that they would support me x3

Masterpost | (1) (2) (3)

Masterlist

—

You’re 10 weeks pregnant now, barely reaching your 2nd trimester. You’ve experienced the worst of the pregnancy symptoms but was still able to hide your pregnancy from most people. 

Out of the two people you’ve told about your pregnancy, one of them was your boss, who suddenly came to your liking. And you can’t help but think it’s because you’re close to his daughter’s age. He’s been wanting a grandchild for so long, he instantly took an interest in your pregnancy. Plus, you can say you have a good relationship with your boss considering that you’ve worked with him for the past 4 years. 

You told him the next business meeting, which will take place in 2 weeks, you would announce your pregnancy to the company. And you’ve decided this because you’re sure some people at the office can see how lenient your boss is with you. Like days when you’re in the bathroom more than you are at your desk and he lets you leave earlier than expected. No one would assume you’re pregnant, but they would assume you’re seeing your boss. And you want nothing more than to clear the air.  

And the other person you told about your pregnancy is the manager at your favorite coffee shop. You actually have considered him one of your closest friends at one point in time. You saw him in his humble beginnings of being a barista to now the store manager. 

And you technically didn’t tell him but instead he guessed it only because he realized you stopped ordering your go-to drink as you only settled for pastries instead. 

You’ve known each other for quite some time now, he basically finds things out with a sudden change to your order. Like the time you and your ex broke up, you stopped ordering espresso and settled for a skinny latte and he instantly knew something was up. 

Or like the time you had your interview for the position you have now, after working for the same company for 2 years. You had only ordered tea for a whole week straight since you read somewhere that tea calms down anxiety, which was more or less true for you. 

But he also could tell by your change of demeanor too. You can say that he was pretty observant of his usual customers, but he was particularly observant with you. He can tell what kind of day you’re having based on how you approach him and his employees as you order. 

He knows when he can tease you and when to leave you alone. So when you came in about 5 weeks ago, hair up in a messy bun, eyes as puffy as can be, and your lack of social skills, he knew something was up. 

******** flashback

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but are you going to be okay?” He asks as you sit in your corner of the coffee shop. You look around and see only a handful of college students and one employee. 

“Hi Yoongs” you say with a defeated tone. And instantly he knew what that meant. He looks to his employee and they both nod, which means to call him only when absolutely necessary. 

“What’s going on Y/N?” He says with a hint of concern on his face. The second concerned face you’ve seen today since Namjoon gave you his handkerchief. 

You look at him, ready to release all this built up emotions. But then you realized you don’t have that kind of friendship to cry like a baby in front of him. So you take a bite of your pastry and take a deep breath.

“I saw my OBGYN today..” you start, looking at him as his gaze went from concerned to confused in a matter of seconds. “I’m pregnant”. 

You’ve never seen his eyes so wide than how it is now. He’s trying not to stare but you know that he has questions. 

“It’s his..” you say with shame. “We didn’t have a condom at that time. I don’t even know” you start to say before you feel tears falling from your face. 

He quickly stands up and you feel your heart start to sink. The first person you tell and you can’t bear the disappointment. What more for your family and friends?

But then he comes back with a box of facial tissues and some water and sits right back down.

“How are you feeling?” Is all he manages to ask after a moment of silence. He looks at you with a sincere look. 

“Nauseous. All I’ve been feeling is nauseous, and I’m only 5 weeks” you whine. But out of nowhere, hearing yourself complain made you laugh. “But considering everything else, I’m okay”. 

Yoongi takes a sip of your water as he carefully tries to read you. He’s not sure whether to laugh out of nervousness or cry out of sympathy so he waits for you. 

You grab a hold of his shoulder, “I promise I’m okay Yoongs. I’ve made peace with it and just want to do what’s best for the baby and I” you say, rubbing your non-existing tummy. 

Hours have passed since you first got to the coffee shop. Chairs are up, his employees are gone, and all that’s left are you, Yoongi, and a salad that was barely touched. 

“He should at least know about the baby,” Yoongi says. “I can try to get a hold of him if you want”. Yoongi and your ex were in the same basketball league for a couple of seasons, so Yoongi would consider him an acquaintance at the least.  

“No, no, no” you silently yell, shaking your head no. “I’ve reached out to him and told him to call me back because it’s important. If he hasn’t reached out by now, I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore”. You and Yoongi both know this is 100% accurate. But you don’t sound defeated this time around. 

“My doctor is going to help me. She’s had a lot of patients dealing with the same thing, she has a consultant for me to speak with sometime next week. I’m not alone” you say to Yoongi trying to reassure him that you’re okay. Or maybe you’re trying to reassure yourself at this point. 

And suddenly you feel the warmth of his hand on top of yours. “You’re right about that Y/N. You’re not going to be alone. I’m going to be here for you and your baby. I’m gonna be the best uncle there is!” He says enthusiastically. 

The rest of the night, you spend time joking and planning his “uncle and me” time and how he’s going to teach your baby all there is to know about coffee and music. “Your son is gonna be my next protege!” He says out of excitement. 

“How do you know it’s going to be a boy?” You ask, laughing at Yoongi’s sudden revelation. 

He looks at you and shrugs as he laughs, “I just have a feeling it’s a boy” he says as he looks at your tummy. You start rubbing your tummy and look up to Yoongi before looking back at your stomach. 

“Guess we can’t disappoint uncle Yoongi now, baby. You have no choice but to be a boy”. The two of you start laughing and joking a little longer before calling it a night. 

As Yoongi locks up his shop he offers you a ride home, since it’s too late for you to take the subway. But he says he has to make a quick detour to drop off something to his friend's place. It’s on the way back to your place so you don’t mind at all, especially since he didn’t have to give you a ride in the first place.

You’re going down a familiar neighborhood, only to realize it’s your exes neighborhood. Or at least his old neighborhood. Yoongi stops a block or two down the road from your exes complex and calls his friend to let him know he’s outside.

And much to your surprise, the friend he called is none other than Namjoon, the kind gentleman who lent you his handkerchief and water. 

“What a small world” Namjoon says as he leans over your window as he hands you something to give to Yoongi. 

Namjoon stares at you before looking at Yoongi. “I didn’t think I’d see you again Y/N! Are you feeling better?” He asks, taking note of your much better appearance. 

You nod and smile, and turn to Yoongi. “Namjoon and I met at the subway station earlier. He’s the one that revived me”. Yoongi smiles and looks at Namjoon. 

“Thanks bro, she’s definitely doing much better”, Yoongi says before silence fills the air. 

“Well I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone! Have a goodnight!” Namjoon jokes around, and you AND Yoongi both deny Namjoon’s statement. 

“Definitely not lovebirds” you say while chuckling. “But he’s definitely a great friend!” You say while you turn back to Namjoon. “Thank you again for earlier by the way”.

You make eye contact with Namjoon and notice his smile looks happier than earlier, and you never realized how contagious a smile can be as you find yourself smiling now too.

[selinakidreams]

pairing: merman! dabi x gn reader

warnings: nameless character deaths, a singular mention of nausea + throwing up, unfortunately a lot of blood mentions, near death experiences, SHARK! THERES A SHARK IN THE WATER ! (I SWEAR this is supposed to be pretty but the warnings make it seem otherwise) slight soulmate au?, dabi had a SINGULAR moment of softness.

a/n: guys I don’t even know what this is and it’s unedited,, but welcome to my contribution to mermay ! I had two scenes plain as day STUCK in my head and I just needed to get them out,,, honestly this was just supposed to be a short lil thing but I’m invested,, so here this is

ps, though this may not be edited... I would like to thank all my monster fucking moots who helped me to piece together the perfect mer version of dabi— I love you guys so so so much.

looking out into the darkness of the night, unable to locate the horizon from your position at the edge of the ship- you lift your gaze to the sky with a small sigh.

an unimaginable amount of stars litter the atmosphere, the clear view above could never be tiresome.

the city was no place for you; too crowded, full of men who were trying to court you for your fathers money and your beauty, not enough adventure. the ocean offered a type of freedom land could never- granted, the ship wasn’t much different from the bustling towns in the sense that all the soldiers would eye you like you’re a slab of meat.

the only difference given at sea is that you’re able to put those undesirable fuckers in their place. given your ranking, your power obsessed father wasn’t completely useless.

escaping to the empty deck had been your big feat today; everyone below was gulping down wine by the barrel when you managed to slip out. it was much colder out here, the chill of the salty wind was refreshing, sobering you up quite a bit- but still mentally fuzzy enough to tempt yourself into discarding edict and loosening up your tighter garments.

your drunken attention span shifted from fiddling with your bow in the back to the inky deep water...

what was that?

ripples were quietly dancing on the surface, the warm light reflections coming from the ship’s sconces moved along with them.

it had been really fast, so fast that you were almost left to wonder if you had actually imagined the most vibrant blue eyes you had ever seen... bobbing in the ocean.

two days. it had been two days since you had first “spotted” them and absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. the sailors still went about uglily gawking at you, your captain of a father was still behind the wheel, barking orders at everyone, while you went about your business. Sighing, the image of the eyes still fresh in your mind, you prepared to be lowered into the shallower sea.

upon hearing that there was a small island not too far from your current coordinates, you commanded a stop be made, needing to take some time away from the close knit quarters you constantly share with those horrific pigs. thankfully, no arguments surfaced and you headed straight for the dinghy. it had been surprisingly easy.

the trip wasn’t too long; you patiently waited for the tip of the boat to breach the soft sand, excited for what awaited you. it was such a lovely sunny day, big puffy white clouds dotted the expansive blue sky while the palm trees at the base of the beach greeted you with a steady sway.

once your boots sunk into the wet sand, you turned to the two other men who had escorted you and informed them that you were not to be followed- but to wait right there- which in retrospect, was not a good idea. that was too much trust and responsibility that was placed in their incapable hands.

you wasted no time trudging through the lush greenery to get to the other side of the island, wanting to be as far away from the crew members as possible. 

it couldn’t have taken you more than two hours for you to reach an elaborate array of tide pools sporadically placed on a flat uneven rocky surface, some being lapped over by waves while others sat calmly- living in their own little world.

you had to look in each and every one of them.

wide eyes and mouth open, looking at all the lives in the crystal clear pools was an absolute marvel. some only held a few small sea anemones of different colors while others not only held the soft flowery plant but also housed fighting crabs of all sizes, large chunky starfish, and even a fish or two!

you took careful steps towards the end of the rocks, towards the ones where the waves were constantly restocking the pools with new life, your heart flipping in your chest at the colors of the crashing waves.

peering down into one of the deeper ones, you found it hard to take your sights away from the glistening sun streaks that cut through the water; a small gateway to the open ocean was at the bottom of this pool. it’s like you were hypnotized. making yourself comfortable, you laid yourself down next to the glistening water and began to break the calm surface with your finger tips, eyes trained on the tiny ripples.

“they left you, you know.”

you felt so at ease with the sound of the waves crashing around you, you almost didn’t hear it. it wasn’t until the nagging feeling that you weren’t alone hugged you in all the wrong places, that you looked up... only to be met with nothing.

scrunching your brow, the tranquility you were feeling before suddenly slipping through your fingers. you sat up, but not before you held a lingering glance at the glowing water once more. that’s an image that will stay in your mind; you almost wish you had your sketch book.

your mind went blank when you saw something block the light as it swam by... something big. the next few minutes happened in a blur. after scrambling up to get away from the pool, a huge body washed up on a nearby rock plateau and by no means was it graceful. your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched the lifeless body get smacked with harsh waves.

he was wearing your ship’s uniform, now drenched in blood.

nothing came up when you fell on your knees and lurched over, your eyes squeezing shut- the gruesome image of the crew member engrained in your mind.

“they got what they deserved.”

this time when you whipped your head up to follow the velvet voice, you fell into an almost trance. those breathtaking turquoise eyes you had seen a few days ago were now staring right at you, not too far away.

you couldn’t help the gasp that you inhaled as you fell back. looking at him in his entirety- you must have been hallucinating. growing up hearing the tales of deep sea monsters and nasty magical land creatures could never have prepared you for what laid in front of you.

it was such a drastic change; going from looking at something so appalling to something so... flawless... it was indescribable.

on display, your eyes followed the curled figure- wet white hair flopped against a pale forehead, the tips of his pointed finned-ears peaking out from the wet hair. there were deep dark purple markings starting underneath his eyes, slightly mimicking bags that then restarted at the bottom half of his face- all the way down his neck, ending at just the top of his chest. the markings then continued down his arms, right up to his knuckles contrasting the pale thin slightly webbed fingers that merged to sharp claws, gleaming in the sun. his toned chest eased into a pearly type of color around his hips before submerging into a black ragged tail- but it did the strangest thing. when the sun reflected off of it, a blue so royal- that you’ve only seen it on the most expensive of garments- came to life. the dorsal fin looked just as rugged as the tail did, but his odyssey fluke was splayed out so beautifully, you didn’t give it a second thought.

it wasn’t until you took a second glance that you noticed there was a red tint to his claws that you put into context what was said earlier.

“did you- di- you killed that man?”

his voice came out as smooth as silk, “I did.”

how could you be so dense? this was a creature that came from the sea- a ruthless underwater world. he was a predator. but wait-

“you can speak- you s-said.. did you kill them for me? are you going to-?”

“I killed those men because of all humans, the ones who betray others for their own greed serve no purpose.”

he didn’t tell you more than necessary in his opinion, but he was smart enough and old enough to know that you’re still going to ask more.

it seemed you were sitting on quite the pile of questions but he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. it was clear that you were mulling over what should be said first.

“was it you I saw at sea the other night?”

out of all the things you could ask, that was the only thing your mind had on repeat- the only thought present.

“and if it was?”

after receiving two similar vague reactions, something in you was screaming for something to happen. the interaction seemed to be going nowhere and here you were, in front of a creature that you’ve heard so much about but never actually met- a drastic change in interaction was calling, and who were you to ignore it?

in hindsight, it was a terrible idea.

one minute you were on land, next you were shedding your heavy, restrictive clothing- the mer watching with a slight smirk and a heavy gaze- then seconds later, were in the violent push and pull of the ocean. luckily you were far enough to be out of the rocky reach, but the current was too strong. you were being swayed back and forth with too much force.

if it had been your first time in the ocean, you would have been a goner- you would have washed right into the sharp jagged edges; a terribly painful way to go. but thankfully, flowing with the ocean had been your specialty since you were young. incredibly masculine and dirty, but you simply couldn’t stay away. the watery depths have lured you in and there was no escaping the spell it had casted on you all those years ago.

maybe that’s why you dove in. or maybe you wanted to see what the mer would do. whatever the case, there you were in the lull of the tide and running out of air. breaching the surface was your main goal, urging your arms and legs to snap out of the shock of the cold water.

eyes on the bubbles traveling upwards, you finally get your arms to push through the current almost missing the dark shadow swimming closer and closer to you, getting larger and larger.

a quick sideways glance in the clear water showed something large with many many rows of teeth out on display, heading toward you and gaining momentum.

a shark.

a... shark.

of all the ways you possibly thought you could go... this was not one of them. it’s almost ironic- the one way you thought you wouldn’t go would end up getting you.

breaking the surface, you gulp your last breath of air- painfully waiting for the horrifying moment when powerful jaws clamp around your body... but it never came. all you felt was a strong current zip past your feet, slightly pulling you along with it.

you’re heart was pounding; adrenaline coursing through your veins, breathing choppy as you whip your head in every which way to see what was going on in the water beneath you. then you saw it.

blood.

just then, the gory image of the crewmate’s body flashed into your mind. there had been another sailor... the mermaid didn’t pull up two bodies- he wasn’t the only predator in the water.

before you could evaluate further, you were pulled by the ankle under the water and into a place where the blood hadn’t seeped yet.

not enough air was sucked in before you submerged, so you frantically searched for ways you could reach the surface again- not even thinking about the now-absent steady grip that dragged you under.

then you felt it. pointed claws lightly tracing up your sides before his handsome face was leveled with yours. if seeing him on land wasn’t good enough, seeing him in his element was nearly heart stopping.

but your lungs were going to collapse before your heart could-

or so you thought.

he flattened his palm around your waist, cupping it gently before he inched his face toward yours, lips slightly ghosting yours, as if asking for permission.

with his toned body pressed against yours, it was hard to think straight, but the most prominent siren going off in your mind was the fact that you were loosing oxygen, and quickly. you found yourself panicking in his grip. was this really the time?

his lips were on yours in less than a second, your struggling becoming more and more apparent- but it was when he got your mouth to open that you realized what he was doing.

A mermaid’s kiss gives you the eternal breath; the ability to breathe under water.

pulling away, he watched as your eyes went wide, the small smirk you’d seen before had appeared once more.

the sensation was otherworldly; though there was a heavy pressure in your chest as the water was filtering in and out of your system, you were breathing underwater.

slowed down by the new density, you lifted your head to look up at the mer- no doubt the most excited and bewildered expression on your face, just to realize the size difference. he was huge- how had you not noticed this on land?

the more human half of his body had to be around the six foot range, his muscular tail roughly adding another ten. the massive figure floating around you was... beautiful.

he had the softest gaze when looking down at you, it nearly shocked you more that the new incredible ability had. he didn’t seem like the type to be full of expressions; it was such a warm and familiar look, something that you hadn’t seen in a long time- and one you typically didn’t see on a stranger’s face, much less a merman you had only just met.

opening your mouth to say something-if you could, that is- his expression changed in a blink, fear now contorted his features.

everything was so fast with him; his arm wrapped around your waist in mere seconds before speedily guiding you through a passage of underwater tunnels that lead to somewhere you assumed to be in the middle of the island- a lush green grotto.

once you resurfaced, you inhaled a breath you didn’t realize you needed; the new air burned your lungs- you almost didn’t want to breathe.

“just keep breathing. it will get easier over time.”

he almost sounded... bored? a complete one 180 to what you had just witnessed in the water.

the mer guided you up to the pool’s edge, lifting you with ease until you sat with only your legs dangling in the water.

outwardly, it stayed quiet for a while. there wasn’t much noise around besides the occasional bird call and the delicate sound of waded water.

your breathing had slightly evened out but you weren’t too confident in your voice, so keeping your mouth shut seemed like the best option.

what now?

tag list: @zhongh-li

[shyrose57]

Updated Deities Of Mizu thing:

Things:

Origin myths are how the people of Mizu, and related cities believe the gods came to be. They weren’t actually spirits or born from the sky, but over time, history distorts, and it’s not like it hurts anything.

Most of Mizu’s history is actually pretty accurate, and untwisted. The deities stepped in and set things straight, once they realized what had happened. 

Most, because some of it was pretty funny and harmless, so they just didn’t say anything about it. 

The city of Subbin worships a different Pantheon(unsure which it consist of yet).

Mizu’s pantheon is known to appear quite frequently to them, and become close with it’s mortals. 

Despite some beliefs, they don’t actually live within Mizu, for all they visit often. They reside in a separate dimension they all created together, and can leave freely.

Gods/Deities:

Tommy: 

Head of the Mizu Pantheon, and god of mischief and discord, perseverance through hardships, and companionship and bonds. 

Typically depicted as a scarred teenager with red string around his arms, and stars scattered along his body. Sometimes, he also sports wings on his back, or red horns and a spade-tipped tail. 

Sacred animals are cows and moths.

Origin myth: He was originally a minor spirit of discord, born from a shard of Dream’s power. They say, entranced by the stars, he hauled himself into the sky, and the stars were so awed by his determination that they immediately embraced him as a brother, turning him into a god.

Closely tied with the other three minors, as a god of the Red String, he is represented as the string itself. 

Tubbo:

Tommy’s counterpart, and partner in leading the Pantheon. God of the community, kindness and reconciliation, and hard work and reward. 

Typically depicted as a younger boy, though that’s about the only thing that stays the same. Sometimes, he has curly ram/deer horns, and goat feet. Other times, it’s transparent wings, or snow dusted hair. 

Sacred animals are bees and deer. 

Origin myth: Ties into Tommy’s. Once a forest satyr, he was close friends with the chaos spirit, and stayed in the sea beneath him, ready to catch the other if he slipped. When Tommy looked down and saw the other waiting, ever unwilling to part, he tossed down a glass of honey, with the remains of stars mixed into it, and told him to drink it. Tubbo did, and his blood was burned gold. 

Closely tied with the other three minors, as a god of the Red String, he is represented as the knot tying two people together. 

Ranboo:

God of sentiment, loyalty to people and memory, and mind and soul. 

Typically depicted as either a tall, faceless figure split down the middle, or a strange, reptilian creature with glowing purple eyes. 

Sacred animals are enderman and cats. 

Origin myth: Currently undecided.

Closely tied with the other three minors, as a god of the Red String, he is represented as the weaver of the thread itself.

Purpled: 

God of value and worth, strategy, and riches.

Typically depicted as a shadowed figure in armor, with purple jewels decorating him. On some occasions though, he is shown as a purple eyed wolf instead, with a golden necklace around his neck.

Sacred animals are wolves.

Origin myth: Currently undecided.

Closely tied with the other three minors, as a god of the Red String, he is represented as the scissors that cut the thread when necessary.

Dream:

The original deity, and god of change, chaos, and order, and formerly, the End.

Typically depicted as a giant covered in a bloodied cloak and porcelain mask, with an axe upon his back, and chains on his wrists.

Sacred animal are horses and cats.

Origin myth: Came into existence when a meteor struck the Enderdragon through her chest, killing her, and from the remains of her heart, was born Dream.

George:

The second deity, and god of the Overworld, life, sentience, and rest. 

Typically depicted as a sleeping man surrounded by plants, and draped in blue. His eyes are never seen, either closed, or hidden by a pair of black and white glasses.

Sacred animals are dolphins and butterflies.

Origin myth: Came into existence when a lonely Dream began to cry, and his tears spilled onto a lifeless planet, creating the Overworld, and George along with it.

Bad:

God of the Nether, chaos, marriage, and brides, it’s unclear whether he existed before Dream, or after George. 

Typically depicted as a looming, demonic shadow with a crown of bone, and glowing white eyes.

Sacred animal is the wither skeleton.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Married to Skeppy.

Skeppy:

God of caverns and ores, mirth, magic, and mastery.

Typically depicted as either a figure draped in diamond jewelry and a veil, or a figure made or diamond.

Sacred animal is the bat, and the diamond golem.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Married to Bad.

Puffy:

God of the seas, motherhood, and release(of your emotions, of your past, ect).

Typically depicted as a sheep-headed woman, with an axe and a cutlass strapped over her back, and colorful ribbons in her hair.

Sacred animal is the otter.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Married to Niki.

Niki: 

God of spring, battle, victory, and retribution.

Can be depicted in two very different ways. One, as a brown haired maiden, with strands of pale golden flowers framing her face. Or two, as an armored lady, with pink hair that turns to streams of blood toward the end, and baring a tattered cloak on her shoulders, a sword on her hip, and a dagger hidden on her back.

Sacred animal is the fox and the dog.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Married to Puffy.

Quackity:

God of law, order, the married, and the widowed.

Typically depicted as an one-eyed elderly man baring books of law and politics in hand, but also as a golden winged being with a lop-sided halo covering his right eye.

Sacred animal is the crane, and the canary.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Said to be formerly married to the spirit Sapnap, and the nymph Karl.

Others:

Sapnap:

Technically not a deity? A powerful spirit born to the Nether God, Bad, his domain falls over that of both humanity, and flame. Have up his life to imprison Dream.

Typically depicted as a humanoid made of flame, with ghostly white eyes, and red thread looped through his fingers.

Has no sacred animals, but is, for some reason, closely associated with cod fish, as well as blazes.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Drista:

The pseudo-sister of Dream, who played a heavy role in his imprisonment.

Typically depicted as a short figure wearing a grinning mask.

Associated with geese, for some reason.

Origin myth: Undecided.

Fundy:

A fox turned human/spirit who’s closely tied with Niki and Ranboo.

Typically depicted as a fox-like person, or fox hybrid.

Associated with foxes.

Origin myth: One day, in the remains of her battlefield, Niki came across a young fox kit that had been caught in the crossfire and killed. Feeling remorse for the death, she went to George and had him revive it into a boy, who Niki took and raised as her own.

Harbringer of fall.

Wilbur:

Some sort of fallen god or titan, perhaps? Little is known about him, besides the mentions in the Disc Saga, and a day of mourning meant in his honor.

No depictions. There’s no pictures or descriptions of this strange being.

Origin myth: Undecided/Unknown.

Ghostbur:

A sea spirit who’s widely honored as Mizu’s number one historian, and preserver of history.

Associations with blue sheep and salmon.

Typically depicted as a reclining man upon the shore, where his legs should be hidden by seafoam. His eyes are a bright sea-blue, and his lips are tinged. 

Origin myth: Undecided.

[moonprincemulti]

Hii, could I request a bottom jimin x top male reader?? Where Jimin develops feelings for the reader and fully realises his feelings when he gets jealous coz the reader's hanging out a lot with another bts member instead of him. Thank youuuu💜💜

∘₊✧— Spend Time With Me —✧₊∘

- 5 Mar 2021

- soo it's probably a bit long but hey, you had to wait long too so.. sorry

- i hoped i fullfilled your request, this is the first time i write for a bts member

- let me know what you think of it!

"Do you remember that one time where you ruined the project of someone else because you thought it was trash just lying around?" Y/n snickered at the memory, eventually just breaking out in full out laughter. Hoseok laughed along just as loudly, playfully hitting y/n as they remnisced about their adventures in high school. Y/n was one of Hoseok's long time friends, and they hang out a lot in the free time that BTS had during schedules.

Jimin had met y/n years ago when Hoseok had brought him over for the first time after they moved into their dorm. Y/n always had a great time with the boys, as they were smiling and playing around a lot. Jimin always felt some kind of connection to y/n, but he never really could place what that feeling exactly was. One time when they had gotten a bit too drunk, they experienced a quite akward moment when Jimin had broken down in tears, saying that y/n had cheated on him.

That moment had since then been forgotten, atleast Jimin hoped it had been. They had never talked about it again, because to them back then, it didn't make sense. Jimin sighed as he thought back to all the great memories they had made together, the smile on his face giving away that he wasn't really listening to the conversation that Hoseok and y/n were having currently. Hoseok nudged Jimin and cleared his throat. "What are you smiling about? It's not fun to lose a pet.."

Jimin blinked and looked at the other two males, suddenly feeling guilty. "What? No I... I was thinking about something else. Sorry." Jimin looked down, Hoseok patting his shouder and then continuing to talk to y/n. Jimin closed his eyes, shaking his head lightly. Why did he have to make a fool of himself all of the time? He then got up, walking off to his room. He stopped at the end of the hallway, looking back in the direction of the livingroom. He was always happy when y/n was here, but everytime the taller male had left, Jimin only felt sadness. He never knew why.

━━━━━━━━ ✤ ━━━━━━━━

Over the course of the next few weeks, y/n kept coming over almost every day. But y/n only seemed to have his attention for Hoseok, and not for Jimin or one of the other boys. The others didn't really seem to mind as they just did their own thing and let y/n be, but Jimin had slowly gotten irritated by it. As y/n got up to leave one night, Jimin got up as well. "Y/n uhm.. do you want to hang out with me sometime this week? You seem to have a lot of free time.." Y/n tilted his head, a bit confused by this sudden question.

"Well actually, I'll be pretty busy starting tomorrow. But don't worry, our weekly sunday nights can still happen. I'll be here again to watch a movie with you guys then." Y/n smiled gently, but he noticed that Jimin didn't get the answer he wanted. "No I.. Just... you know, nevermind. I'll see you on sunday." Jimin wanted to turn around and walk to his room, but y/n grabbed his arm and made Jimin face him. "Why? Is there something specific you wanted to do with me?"

Jimin felt his heart skip a beat as he looked in y/n's eyes, and it suddenly felt like he had no control over his own body. Jimin stuttered in an attempt to answer, only confusing y/n more. "What? I'm not going to bite you for asking.." Y/n furrowed his eyebrows. "Come on, tell me. I can try and fit you in my schedule if you tell me what you want to do." "You.. you always spend.. spend so much time with Hoseok but you're my friend too!" Jimin blurted out, getting embarassed then and turning his face away.

Y/n glanced at Hoseok, who shrugged unknowingly and looked at Jimin as well. Jimin got out of y/n's grip and turned around then. "Nevermind, okay? I'll go find myself a best friend so I don't bother the two of you." Y/n wanted to stop Jimin once more, but the smaller had already walked off to his room. Y/n looked at Hoseok, a bit worried. "What's up with him? Did something piss him off during practice?" Hoseok shook his head. "Not that I know off."

━━━━━━━━ ✤ ━━━━━━━━

Weeks went by and Jimin had locked himself in his room everytime y/n had come over. Y/n had tried to talk to him the first few times, but gave up as Jimin just answered with pure silence. Jimin had realised what his feelings had been telling him for years now, and he was slightly angry, but mostly very embarassed about it. He was jealous. All those heart flutters and stings of pain had come from jealousy. Jealousy that y/n was spending time with the others and not exclusively with Jimin.

As the six boys sat in the livingroom with y/n, they were talking about different things, Jimin opened his bedroom door, peeping out to listen to them. He heard y/n's familiar laugh, which made his heart flutter ever so slightly. Jimin bit his lip, not knowing what to do. Would he ever have enough courage to confess to y/n? He couldn't keep it in forever, it was starting to hurt their friendship. He stepped out of his room, leaning against the wall to listen in on the others' conversation.

"Jimin was so good during practice today, the way he moved.. wow... it's always so mesmerizing to look at." Taehyung had spoken about the dance that Jimin had practiced for one of their award shows. Y/n hummed and smiled. "I wish I could see him dance for real. I've only seen recorded clips. As you said, it looks mesmerizing on video, but I'm sure his body expression is even better in real life." Jimin felt another flutter go through his body. He wished he could show y/n how he could move, but how to do that when they weren't even talking.

━━━━━━━━ ✤ ━━━━━━━━

As the others continued their conversation, Jimin gathered the courage to do something he thought he would never do. Y/n kept talking about Jimin in an adoring way, and Jimin felt like he had to act now or never. He walked towards the livingroom, making a bee-line straight to y/n. He hovered over the taller who was sitting on the couch, cupping his face and placing a deep kiss right on his lips. He leaned back a bit then, looking into y/n's eyes. "This is why I didn't talk. Why I locked myself up. Do you understand now?"

The others were shocked by the sudden action, Hoseok furrowing his eyebrows. "Jimin, was this really necessary-" Hoseok stopped talking as y/n reacted back. Y/n had grabbed Jimin's collar, pulling him closer quite harshly, reconnecting their lips. The others just looked at them in astonishment, not sure what to say or do. Y/n groaned softly, making Jimin sit in his lap as they made out for a minute or so, exposing their feelings for eachother that had been kept in for so long.

Y/n broke the kiss then, taking a deep breath and stroking over Jimin's cheek. "Do you want to spend some alone time with me tomorrow? Just us?" Jimin nodded and smiled, his lips a bit puffy from the deep kiss. "Yes please... that's all I wanted." Y/n smiled and pulled Jimin in a hug, finally looking at the others. "Do you guys mind? This uh.. this was going to happen sooner or later.." Hoseok shook his head and smiled gently. "No, we don't mind. Just.. keep the intimate stuff during your alone time, okay? We don't have to watch it." Jimin huffed and stuck his tongue out to Hoseok. "Don't tell me you're the jealous one now." Hoseok chuckled and the others smiled along as well.

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Title: “Messy”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Original Characters

Tags: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst, Breaking The Rules, Dean is Sam's Real Parent (But he shouldn't have to be), Dean Giving Sam a Childhood, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Meets a Cute Boy, Unwanted Haircut, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean is 13 and Sam is 9

Summary: John leaves Dean and Sam alone at a motel the day before Halloween. Despite John's hard-and-fast rules about leaving the motel room, Sam convinces Dean to take him trick-or-treating. While they're out, Dean meets a boy who makes him feel like breaking the rules was worth it.

On AO3 Here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dean, you know the drill,” John says brusquely as he hoists the duffel over his shoulder. “Tell me the rules.”

Dean stands up from where he’s folding laundry on the motel room floor. They stopped at the laundromat this morning, John tossing Dean just enough quarters for two small loads before taking Sam along with him to the local library for research. They’ve been tracking a creature for days and John’s still not sure exactly what it is.

Dean would have loved to help with the books. Instead he sat in front of the laundry machine, exactly the same as the hundreds of others he’s fed with quarters over the years, and watched their clothes spin around and around. He noticed new holes in Sam’s jeans and socks when he moved them to the dryer. If his dad will let him use some of their wound-stitching thread, he’ll repair them after this hunt.

He faces his dad, posture straight and hands behind his back. “The rules are stay in the room, keep the doors and windows locked, don’t answer the door for anyone except you and Bobby, only spend money if I absolutely have to, and always have a weapon in reach,” he rattles off.

John nods, face impassive. “And the most important rule?”

“Protect Sammy,” Dean says firmly. He glances over to the rickety table under the window, where his scrawny little brother is filling out a worksheet. It’s part of the last round of homework their teachers had given them at their previous school, right before John took them out again to hit the road.

Dean quietly tossed his own homework in the garbage and told Sammy to finish every worksheet, because he was going to mail it back to the school and his teacher would check it. Sam’s even writing a letter in the cursive he’s learning to go along with it.

Dean has no clue what the address of the school is.

John pulls the Impala key out of his pocket and opens the door. “I’ll be out of cell range during this next leg. Check in date is Thursday. Don’t call for help until Sunday.”

Dean nods. John steps halfway out the door before turning back. He eyes Dean for a long moment, as if he’s trying to come up with something to add. Eventually he just says “I’m cutting your hair when I get back. You look messy.”

The door closes. In the silence of the room, Dean reaches up and touches his bangs. Just this morning, in the reflection of the washing machine door, he admired how his hair was curling a bit over his ears. It framed his face and made him look softer. Less skinny. More like the other boys he’d seen at school.

Oh well.

The Impala roars to life outside in the parking lot, and Dean listens until the purr of the engine fades away down the road. He looks at the half-folded pile of laundry at his feet.

“Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

Dean jumps a little. Sam’s right next to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Dean pushes him away and drops onto the couch, nudging a balled-up pair of socks with his foot. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

Sam sits down next to him. “Dean, I think Dad forgot about Halloween.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He didn’t forget, Sammy. It just doesn’t matter.” He avoids looking at his brother, running his fingers over the ridge of threads barely holding together the hole in his own jeans.

“But I told James I’d be a doctor,” Sam needles. “He’s gonna be a pirate.”

Sam’s ability to instantly make friends always leaves Dean feeling half-proud, half-nervous. Sam was in third grade with James for less than two weeks, and he still talks about him constantly.

Dean thinks it’s better not to get attached. He just can’t bring himself to teach Sam that particular lesson yet.

He sighs and glances at Sam. “You know you can’t trick-or-treat with James anyway, right? He’s in Denver.”

Sam groans dramatically and flops against the hard backrest of the couch. His shaggy hair falls into his face. Dean looks at the longest strands, curving past Sam’s cheekbones.

“We can just do Halloween here,” he suggests, even though he knows “buying candy from the gas station” definitely doesn’t count as necessary spending.

Sam shakes his head where it’s still resting on the couch. “That’s not real Halloween.”

“We’ve never done a real Halloween, so how would you know?” Dean’s just buying time now, putting off the moment when he has to say “no.”

The stink-eye that’s sent his way is of epic proportions. “I watch TV, Dean.”

Dean rubs his face. “Sammy--”

“--Oh, please, Dean, please!” Sam shifts into begging mode, sitting up and whipping out the puppy eyes. His left eye is half-covered by hair. “I know we’re not allowed, but can’t we break the rules just one time? It can be a secret.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, but Sam’s more stubborn. Dean looks away first, his eyes falling to the laundry on the floor. Almost unconsciously, he reaches under the lumpy couch cushion next to him and lets his fingers graze the pistol stashed there. His stomach rumbles and he wonders how far he can stretch their last cans of soup.

Suddenly, a secret doesn’t sound so bad at all.

“Okay,” he says.

Sam must’ve not expected Dean to relent, because he’s silent for a couple seconds before whooping and launching himself at Dean. “Ahh! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dean can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He hugs Sam back, the kid’s bony shoulder digging into his ribcage. After a moment, he pulls away and puts on his most serious face. Hands on Sam’s upper arms, he looks him straight in the eyes. “Sam, if we do this, you cannot tell Dad. Do you understand?”

Sam nods enthusiastically, still grinning. Dean digs his fingers into his arms. “Listen to me, or we’re not going.” He waits for Sam’s face to fall a little before continuing. “You can’t just not tell Dad, you can’t drop hints. You have to clean up all your wrappers. We can never talk about it. Do you get it?”

Sam’s eyes are wide now. He nods again, very small, and Dean knows he’s gotten through. He loosens his grip on Sam’s arms. “All right, then. How are we gonna make you look like a doctor?”

Sam beams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, they lock the motel room door behind them and head out. The neighborhood that starts a few streets behind the motel is pretty normal, as far as Dean can tell. The houses aren’t super big, but the yards are, and there are toys scattered on some of the lawns. The biggest house on the corner even has a tree swing. The big tree reminds him of the one in their front yard in Lawrence. He tries not to think about that too much.

It’s dark, and chilly -- they’re still in Colorado -- and Dean holds his jacket closed in front of his chest. The zipper broke a couple weeks ago. Ahead of him, Sam doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. His “doctor coat” flaps behind his legs as he skips down the sidewalk. It’s just a sheet from the bed that Dean stuck together with safety pins in a certain way (it doesn’t look like a coat at all, but the mirror in the motel bathroom was shattered so Sam couldn’t see it anyway). He hung their stethoscope from the big first-aid kit around Sam’s neck, with the express instruction not to lose it, and he emptied the rest of the first-aid kit onto the couch so Sam could carry the empty box with the big red cross and look professional.

Sam hasn’t smiled this much in weeks. Dean’s neck is crawling with the knowledge that he’s breaking rules, bigtime, but he shakes it off. They’re out now. It’s done.

Sam has already latched on to a group of kids making their way up the drive to a single-story brick house. Dean hears him introduce himself, sees him flash the big toothy smile that Dean told him makes him look friendly. The other kids compliment his stethoscope, and Dean relaxes a little.

Everyone in the group is wearing what looks like homemade costumes, too — there’s another bedsheet, draped over a short kid’s head like a ghost (if only ghosts actually looked like that, Dean thinks); and a long black coat, obviously from an adult, dwarfing a kid who Dean’s pretty sure is supposed to be a vampire. Sam, in his makeshift getup, fits right in.

Dean’s trailing behind the group, letting Sam do his making-friends thing, when he notices another older kid doing the same. He looks about Dean’s age, maybe a year older, fourteen or so, and he’s dressed like an angel with a blue halo made out of pipe cleaners. The rest of his outfit is normal, though — a t-shirt that’s printed to look like a suit and tie, under a regular puffy winter coat. Dean’s eyes linger on him as they follow the younger kids up to the house. When they come to a stop so Sam can ring the doorbell, the other boy looks over at Dean, too.

“Hi,” he says. In the yellow glow of the porchlight, his eyes look greenish blue. “I’m Al.” He reaches out a hand. Dean looks at it for a moment, then takes it. They shake. Al’s hand is warm and smooth, a stark contrast to Dean’s freezing, calloused palm. Dean wishes he could hold on a bit longer.

“Dean,” he replies, dropping Al’s hand. He’s not sure what to say next. That’s Sam’s area of expertise.

Luckily, Al doesn’t let him flounder long. “Do you live around here?” he asks, friendly and curious. Dean’s used to hearing that question asked with a thick layer of suspicion, usually out of the mouth of some nosy adult. He still gives his practiced answer, though.

“No, me and my brother are just visiting our grandparents for a couple days.”

Al nods, accepting the lie easily. “I thought I’d never seen you at school.” He points at the sheet-clad ghost. “That’s my sister Katie. She’s seven. It’s the first time our parents are letting me take her trick-or-treating on our own.”

Dean smiles and gestures at Sam, who’s holding the empty first-aid kit out to the homeowner for candy. “That’s Sam. He’s nine. Same deal for us.”

“I like his costume,” Al says. Dean bristles for a moment, until he realizes Al’s being sincere.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I like Katie’s too.” He sweeps his eyes over Al again. “Why are you wearing a fake suit with your halo?”

Al looks down at himself and laughs sheepishly, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt. “I wanted to do a toga with a sheet, but it’s way too cold. I just dressed up ‘cause Katie wanted me to. The halo was the quickest thing.”

“It works,” Dean assures him, suddenly wanting Al to feel good about himself. He shuffles his feet a little, kicking at the fallen leaves littering the walkway. Al smiles at him and something grows in Dean’s chest, a warm, glowing ball, making everything feel tight and tingly. He’s not sure what to do with it.

Sam appears at his elbow suddenly, much to Dean’s relief. He ruffles Sam’s hair. “What’d you get?”

Already chewing on something that looks very caramelly as it squishes between his teeth, Sam holds out the first-aid kit. “She gave me two big ones!” he announces around his mouthful. Two full-sized Milky Ways, one already half-unwrapped, slide around in the box.

“Cool,” Dean says. “Don’t get a stomachache.”

“They’re gonna get stomachaches,” Al says ruefully as Sam and Katie bounce down the driveway to hit the next house. “We should steal some of their candy, y’know, just to protect them.”

The word protect briefly jolts Dean out of his growing sense of relaxation and he sneakily pats his chest, feeling the sheathed knife tucked away in the inside pocket. He makes sure he can still see Sammy (now bounding up the walkway of the next house), and takes a breath. Everything’s under control.

“You okay?” Al’s looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together, a lock of dark hair falling into the crease. He has nice hair, Dean decides. Floppy and kind of messy, squished flat in the middle by the band of the pipe cleaner halo.

“Yep,” he says, forcing the cheer into his voice. If Al notices, he doesn’t say anything. They continue to follow their siblings through the neighborhood, leaving some distance so they can talk. Al tells Dean about school, that he likes science and hates history, that his favorite band is Journey, that he wants to play soccer but his dad wants him to play football, and that he wants to be a veterinarian.

“I like cars,” Dean says in response. “I’m not great at school. Not sure what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Not sure how to tell you that I’ll probably be hunting monsters for the rest of my life.

Al leans on the picket fence of the house that they’re currently waiting outside. “You could be a teacher,” he says.

Dean narrows his eyes at him in confusion. “I just told you I’m bad at school.”

Al shrugs. “My favorite teacher says he didn’t like school. That’s why he’s so good at helping us. He gets it.”

The heavy layer of clouds above them breaks, and a ray of moonlight lands across Al’s face. They’re standing between streetlights, so the silvery glow makes Al’s blueish eyes gleam. Dean finds he has to breathe a little harder than normal. He shakes his head.

“Nah, if anyone’s gonna be a teacher, it’s Sammy. He’s really smart.”

Al hums and pushes off the fence. Sam and Katie are moving on again. “I don’t know, man. You seem smart to me.” He pats Dean on the shoulder, the warmth of his hand seeping through Dean’s threadbare jacket.

In the relative darkness, Dean smiles so hard his eyes squeeze shut.

Eventually, they’ve stopped at every house in the neighborhood. Dean’s pockets are full of the candy that doesn’t fit into Sam’s overflowing first-aid kit. Al’s coat pockets are bulging, too. Sam and Katie run sugar-hyped circles under a streetlight while Dean and Al stand on the corner, looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

“Uh-- I’m glad we ran into you guys,” Al says finally. “You’re really cool.”

Dean’s glad that he’s the one facing away from the streetlight, because his cheeks heat up and probably look way pinker than they would from just the cold.

“You too,” he says. “Wish we lived around here.”

“Where do you live?” Al asks. “You know, just in case we ever take a road trip.”

Unless your destination’s my dad’s car, I don’t think you’re gonna run into me.

“Sioux Falls,” he says. “South Dakota. I live with my uncle.”

If Al finds that strange, he doesn’t pry. Dean could hug him. He wants to hug him.

Katie comes barrelling over, dragging her pillowcase of candy along the pavement. She’s huffing from running around, ghost sheet dangling half off her body. “Al, I’m soooo tired.” She flops against her brother. Sam comes trotting up behind her and grins at Dean. Dean tries to smile back, but there’s a lump in his throat, something that’s making it hard to breathe.

Al pats Katie on the head. “We should probably go home, anyway. It’s getting late.”

Still taking tight little breaths, Dean nods. “Uh-- yeah, us too. See if Sam can sleep off the sugar rush.”

“How long are you staying with your grandparents?” Al asks.

Dean looks at his feet. Weighs the pros and cons of sneaking out again. He’d have to take Sam; there aren’t actually any grandparents who could watch him.

He can’t risk it.

“We’re going home tomorrow morning,” he says, every word dropping like lead. Sam shoots him a confused look, but he ignores it.

Unless he’s imagining it, Al’s face seems to fall. “Aw, too bad. Wait! Hang on.” He rummages through his candy-heavy pockets until he pulls out a little spiral notebook and a nub of a pencil. He writes something on a page and rips it out. He hands it to Dean.

“Our phone number,” he says with a little smile. He steps forward and the streetlight catches his eyes again. Dean thinks that in the sunlight, they’d be bright blue. Al gestures at the paper. “You’ve got a phone at your uncle’s, right? Maybe you can call me sometime.”

There are way too many feelings jumbling around in Dean’s chest for him to say anything coherent, so he just nods. Al smiles wider. “Cool. I’m happy we met you.” He takes one more step forward and — Dean stops breathing altogether — wraps his arms briefly around Dean’s shoulders. He’s very warm. His hair smells good. Dean’s brain doesn’t catch up quite in time, and he misses his chance to hug back. The edge of Al’s halo brushes Dean’s forehead as he pulls away.

“Thanks for hanging out,” Al says, putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders and turning to go. “Have a good drive back home!”

Dean clears his throat. “Bye, guys,” he says lamely. Sam waves enthusiastically to make up for it. They stand under the streetlight for a long few minutes, watching Al and Katie go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam manages to eat every piece of candy by Thursday morning, which is the day they’re supposed to hear from John. Dean makes him eat canned vegetable soup in between meals of Mars bars and Skittles. They scrounge the motel room for wrappers, tossing them all into a big garbage bag that Dean’s going to throw into the dumpster outside. He finishes folding the laundry, counts the money to make sure it’s all there, re-packs the first aid kit, and puts the sheet back on the bed without the safety pins.

Anytime the unease creeps in about having broken the rules, he looks at his brother’s shining face and pushes it back down. He and Sam rehearse their story in case John asks them what they did and Sam even finishes all of his worksheets. Dean folds them up and hides them at the very bottom of his duffle. He tells Sam he put them into the mailbox in the motel office.

And every few hours, he pulls the folded little piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and looks at it. In careful handwriting, Al had written:

Alan Montgomery

(from Halloween. I hope you call.)

And his phone number.

Thursday afternoon, Dean takes the candy-wrapper garbage bag out to the parking lot. At the last second, he pulls Al’s note out of his jeans. After a long moment of reading and re-reading it, he gently folds it back up and tosses it into the bag. He throws the whole thing into the dumpster.

But not before memorizing the number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John gets home late Thursday night. Before they check out of the motel on Friday, John sits Dean down on the toilet seat in the bathroom and pulls out his electric clippers.

While John has his back turned, plugging in the clippers by the sink, Dean pushes his hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands bunch up between his fingers and fall back down onto his ears. He remembers Al’s messy hair brushing his cheek when they hugged.

John flips the clippers on and the buzzing fills the bathroom. For the second time, Dean is glad that the mirror is shattered.

With every lock of hair that tumbles to the ground, Dean recites Al’s number in his head.

“There,” John says gruffly, after the floor and Dean’s lap are littered with honey brown strands. “You look like a man again.”

Dean stands up, brushing off his jeans. His head feels cold. “I’ll get a broom,” he says.

He’s halfway out the bathroom door when John says “Dean.”

Dean freezes, already wondering where he left a wrapper, how John found the garbage bag, if Sam let something slip. He slowly turns back. John’s wrapping the cord around the clippers.

“I need you to come on the next hunt. We’ll drop Sam off at Bobby’s.”

Bobby’s, where the telephone is. Dean’s heart beats hard for a different reason now. He tries to look casual. “Are we gonna stay for a bit?”

John’s already shaking his head before Dean’s done talking. He pushes past him and drops the clippers into his duffel bag on the bed. “No. We’ll be on the road for a while.” He stops and looks at Dean. “Weren’t you going to find a broom?”

Dean loads a dustpan with his hair and empties it on top of the garbage bag in the dumpster.

He whispers Al’s number again.

[forthehpfanboys]

Admirable

Pair: Harry Potter x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Harry convinces you that you’re worth it.

Warnings: Kinda Smutty (MDI), kinda fluffy, swears.

Fluff Prompt 21 and Smut Prompt 44: “Say one more bad thing about yourself! I dare you! Go on! Do it and I’ll give you the biggest fucking hug!” and “I wish you could see just how beautiful you are.” 

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Harry strolled out of class, happy for it to finally be over. The bickering of his friends had him rolling his eyes so hard he wondered if they’d pop out of his skull. Personally, he didn’t care enough to argue over the importance of stirring a potion in the correct direction, so he left them be. He looked behind him, noting how Ron and Hermione were still packing their stuff while chewing each other out, before looking down the hall to the many students heading to their next classes. That was when he noticed the figure on the floor through the reflection of his glasses. 

You were sitting on the floor, across the hall from the entrance to the classroom. His green eyes followed your gaze, which was casted down to your hands that were fiddling with the sleeves of your robe. Harry found himself wondering what caused you to sit on the cold tiles of the dungeon, clearly battling with the thoughts plaguing your head. He knew you had a free period while he had potions, so it must’ve happened within that free time.

When Harry turned to his friends, who had stopped bickering at this point and stood just beside him, they gave him an understanding nod, to which he returned with a soft smile and a wave. The pair hurried off to give you guys your space, both hoping you were ok. So, with a deep breath, Harry took the last few steps to stand in front of you and sat down to your right. When you didn’t look up, he reached out for one of your hands and separated your hand from your sleeve and held it gently.

“Love? Are you ok?” Harry asked, a soft grin on his face. He didn’t want to be too intrusive, but he knew something was up. He let out the breath through his nose when you looked at him. He noticed the puffiness of your eyes and the redness of your nose.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just um,” you paused to lick over your lips, “Malfoy starting stuff, like usual. I’m fine.” Your voice was nasally. You’d been crying. Harry gripped your hand harder when he realized you’d been alone when you were at your most vulnerable.

“That’s why the weasel wasn’t in class.” Harry grumbled to himself. He gently gripped your chin with his other hand and began looking for any cuts, bruises or hints of damage to your profile. “He didn’t touch you, did he? Merlin, if he did, I’ll kill him.”

You couldn’t help but give him a small smile. He was always protective of you. He loved you, he needed you and longed for the day the two of you could be safe and happy and sharing an apartment somewhere and getting a dog and-

“No, no. He didn’t touch me, Harry.” You gently pulled his hand from your chin to plant a soft kiss against his palm that made his heart flutter in his chest and a blush to spread across his cheeks. 

“Then what did he do?” Harry tilted his head, but immediately regretted it when his hair fell into his eyes. He tried to shake it out of the way, but stopped when you reached up to move it for him.

“Just started talking shit. Said I was worth less than the gum on the floor of muggle bathrooms, said you deserved better than a mudblood.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. “Said the Chosen One should be with someone of a worthy status and that you’re wasting time on someone as low as me. It just got me thinking.”

Harry’s eyebrow twitched during your short story. His hand not holding yours clenched tight enough his dull nails dug into his palms and his knuckles turned white.

“Thinking what?” He hoped his voice didn’t give way to his frustration, but it still managed to show it’s way in. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip when your eyebrows furrowed together. He didn’t want to make you feel worse. He swallowed thickly when you hesitated to answer.

“Thinking he might be right. I mean- I’m no one, Harry. Why do you love me? I’m not the brightest, or the funniest, or anything special.” You leaned your head back against the rough bricks of the dungeon, ignoring how it caught and tugged on your hair. You chewed on the inside of your cheek before continuing. “I mean, even Malfoy has better grades than I do, and if that twat can ace deviation, I’m fuc-” Before you could finish, Harry all but exploded.

“Say one more bad thing about yourself! I dare you! Go on! Do it and I’ll give you the biggest fucking hug!” Harry shouted, his finger jabbing into your chest. This fucker was challenging you and it managed to lighten your mood a smidgen. You looked between his finger and his challenging eyes. “No, don’t you dare!” He shouted when you slowly opened your mouth to say something.

“Mr. Potter! Would you like to explain why you are shouting in front of my classroom?”

Harry looked up at Snape, blinking dumbly a few times before he responded.

“Well, for starters, they don’t exactly keep chairs in the hallways, so we must sit on the floor, professor.” He spoke smugly while you hid a laugh behind your hand. “And I’m only shouting because it’s necessary. My boyfriend doesn’t quiet understand he’s the best thing that has every happened to me and it’s hurting my feelings.”

“I could not care less about the complications of your relationship, Potter, but must I give you another detention for your insufferable lip necessary?” Snape raised an eyebrow at the silence. “I thought not. Please leave my classroom alone and handle your,” his nose crunched up, ”love life else were.” He shut the door behind him dramatically as he turned and returned to his classroom, flinging the door shut behind him. 

“Arse.” Harry muttered, standing up. He held a hand out to you after dusting himself off. Once you took it, he helped you stand up. The noirette wrapped an arm around your waist as he led you down the hall. “Seriously though, don’t focus on what Malfoy said. He’s got less brain cells than the boulder holding up Hagrid’s hut.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison and lean into his side. You slid your hand through the opening of his robe so you could rest your hand against his rear as you walked side by side.

“You’re not wrong, hun.” You said, giving his butt a few playful taps before wiggling your hand into his back pocket. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was gawking at you. A satisfied grin stretched across your lips.

“Oh, so you’re feeling better, yeah?” Harry’s sassy tone had you breaking out into a fit of giggles again. “Then how about we head up my dorm? We could do a bit of snuggling or snogging-”

“Why does British slang always involve an s?”

“Hush! I’m trying to be romantic!” Harry whined, bumping his hip against yours. You were worried for a second you’d actually pissed him off, but his beaming smile countered his whiny tone easily. With a roll of his eyes, he continued. “I could show you how much I just- I adore you.” 

“Yeah, that isn’t cheesy at all.” You sassed, your eyes rolling dramatically. Before long, the two of you passed by the dinning hall and straight up the moving staircases to the Gryffindor common room. You spoke the password, barely giving the women in the portrait a second to begin her famous rants. 

Once you stepped in, Harry grabbed your wrist, tugging you against him and slamming his lips against yours. His hand cupped your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the way he nipped at your lip, not caring who saw. You fell into the kiss easily, much like you always did. Your arms wrapped around his waist while he slowly backed you up against the wall just in front of the stairs.

Your hands gripped solely onto his school robes when his hips began to grind into yours. A hum vibrated between your lips before his tongue managed to slip between your teeth. He could feel your cheeks heating up from the very, very short distance and, after dominating your mouth with his tongue, he slowly pulled back. 

His emerald eyes ran along your now swollen lips and half lidded eyes and lazy grin. He reached up, gently swiping his thumb along your lips to wipe the saliva away from the messy kiss. 

“Are you feeling better?” Harry smiled when you nodded your head and planted a soft kiss against the pad of his thumb before taking it into your mouth. The Chosen One shivered when your tongue slid against his skin. “Godric, I wish you could see just how beautiful you are.” His voice was a lazy purr, his eyes getting darker the longer he watched you have your fun. “Come on, let’s head up so I can show you.”

[jostepherjoestar]

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

[pl-panda]

The Vines that bind us - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous Ladybug or any DC characters. I own only the plot, and even that is inspired by the amazing story "Marigold Ivy" by @lwandile13 on Wattpad. Go check it. It's great. He allowed me to take some inspiration, for which I'm grateful. Also, don't translate the french words maybe. Or at least do it on your own responsibility. Big thanks to @Liza! on Discord for being my Beta :)

NEXT

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a normal girl, with a normal life. But she had a secret. Her real name was Marigold Isley. She was born under that name in Gotham city sixteen years ago. Her mother never revealed to her who was her father, but Mari never cared. She was happy with her mom and several aunts and uncles. Technically, none of them were related to her by blood, but Rogues were quite close to each other (excluding some outcasts like Joker or the Menagerie). They taught her many interesting things such as lockpicking, stealth 101, or hand-to-hand combat. She was five when it started, so her first-ever practical test was breaking into a kitchen cupboard and stealing a jar of cookies. Overall, she was very happy. 

It changed when she was eight. One very tired social service person named Elizabeth Barrow got wind of a child of a villain. That Elizabeth was new to Gotham after being reassigned from Metropolis and didn’t yet get the wind of how things worked. Maybe her colleagues didn’t like her, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the problem in Gotham. Previously, there was an unspoken agreement in the government that they wouldn’t notice Marigold. In exchange, rogues were calmer. Or at least tried to keep the death toll down. For a time, Gotham even started to slowly heal. But then, Elizabeth took the case of Marigold Isley. Ivy tried to fight. To protect her daughter. For three days, the city was held hostage by giant plants. It was only the fear in her daughter’s eyes that made Poison Ivy relent and let go. She didn’t want that life for Marigold. The one condition she gave was that the girl would leave America as a whole, to ensure she would be safe from all the madness. 

And so Marigold ended up in the care of baker’s couple in Paris. She never showed any powers thus far and the adoption agency kept the parentage a secret. That’s when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born. She continued with martial arts training and stealth training, but now only as fun and reminder of her mother and extended family, as opposed to actual necessary survival tool. She also picked up designing as another hobby, which soon turned into a kind of obsession. She was generally a ray of sunshine. 

The one black spot in the happy world of Marinette was the Mayor’s daughter. Chloe Bourgeoise considered herself above others and just couldn’t stand sunshine girl. She ruined her clothes, sometimes damaged her homework, or verbally assaulted her. While Chloe was generally disliked, she was more of a nuance. Overall, Marinette was happy. At least until two events changed that. 

When she was twelve, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth for the first time. Marinette found herself becoming Ladybug, a superhero with magical powers that protected the city from harm. She received a partner in form of Chat Noir. It took some time before she got hang of it, and then more time before she and Chat became an actual team. Over time, more heroes joined them, even if temporarily only. She had people she could count on. She became Happy again. 

Privately, she started her own brand: MDC, managed to become a class representative, and became best friends with Alya, who joined around the same time she became Ladybug. It was quite ironic. The superhero was best friends with one person whose greatest dream was to unmask the hero. Marinette also developed a huge (and a bit unhealthy) crush on Adrien Agreste, a famous model who was in her class. She spent years vying for his attention, but nothing ever came from her attempts. She was unable to even say a word around him and her face always became red like her mother’s hair. Overall, she couldn’t complain.

Then, when she was fifteen another black spot appeared. It was Lila (Liela) Rossi. She came to their school and immediately started sporting lies with every breath. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to buy into that, believing her like she spoke the gospel. Everyone but Marinette. She tried to expose Lila, but it only backfired. She became an outcast, disliked by everyone, and universally hated. Suddenly, it became okay to bully her because she was a bully herself and deserved it. It became okay to shun her and no longer include her in anything. The worst was Alya, her former best friend. At first, she just tried to nudge Marinette to give Lila a chance. When Marinette tried to show the truth, Alya practically attacked her. She was just as much responsible for Mari being cast out as Lila was. The fact that her best friend abandoned her only fueled the gossip and allowed Lila to drive the final nail in. In the span of a few weeks, Marinette was left alone. 

Around the same time, Chat Noir became more persistent in his pursuit of her while Adrien, who Marinette knew was aware of the lies, was only telling her to keep the high road (do nothing). She could understand him. As a famous model and son of a well-known fashion designer, he was always taught to not provoke the press. It still served as a wake-up call on her crush. 

--------

Marinette was packing her things after lessons when she noticed someone approach her from behind. Immediately, she tensed. After eleven years of martial arts practice, it was an instinct. Before she had time to turn around, something heavy landed on her desk with a loud Thud!. She turned to see Chloe standing over a large book, a single thick envelope, and a puffy bag that content Marinette couldn’t guess.

“What’s a…” She started, but Chloe cut her off. She had her usual ‘resting witch’ expression.

“The book contains every single instance I verbally assaulted you, destroyed something of yours, talked about you behind your back, or in any way otherwise did something wrong toward you. Here are the materials for the damaged clothes,” she pushed the bag toward her, “and here is money for other things.” Chloe gave her the envelope. “I apologize for all of that. I was jealous of all the attention you kept getting even though I thought I deserved it. I now realize that my behavior was wrong and hurtful. I will understand if you’ll never speak to me again. I kept acting ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” With that, she turned and started to walk again. Marinette idly noticed that there was no Sabrina nearby. Thinking back, Chloe was no longer acting (overly) mean toward anyone as of late.

Making a split-second decision, Marinette raced after the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

“Wha…” Chloe yelped before sinking into the hug. Neither girl realized they were crying until they finally separated. Blonde had her lite make-up in total ruin while Marinette had tears still going down her cheeks. “Does that mean you accept my apologies?”

Marinette didn’t answer immediately. She stood there with open mouth for a moment before smiling weakly. “Yes, Chloe.”

Since that day, they were best friends. It turned out to be a blessing. Chloe, once she finally allowed someone to truly know her, turned out to be a highly intelligent, funny, and very much still overbearing person. She still acted high and mighty, but it no longer felt mean, rather just… felt. She took to defending Marinette from the rest of the class. She was aware of Lila’s lies from day one but never acted on it until it was too late. Sabina abandoned her for the liar. Dealing with loneliness was hard on her. She didn’t even have parents that cared. Her father would probably move sun if she asked, but he had an emotional range of a toothpick. Her mother didn’t even know her name, so she didn’t bother.

Something about their friendship must’ve upset Lila because the girl upped her game. Marinette’s parents suddenly found themselves facing strong critique and constant inspection from the sanitary department and child protection questioning their parenting abilities. MDC, who was slowly becoming one of the go-to fashion designers for famous found herself in the middle of several fake media scandals, including one lawsuit over defamation. If it wasn’t for Jagged Stone and Penny rallying her customers, Marinette and her parents would end up broke. He managed to save MDC and practically made her untouchable. Still, Alya and Lila got off scot-free as nothing could be linked to them.

Perhaps what pushed Lila over the edge was Chloe confronting Adrien. She yelled at him for good two hours straight about responsibility and morality, pointing in detail exactly what he did wrong. She would probably go on if Marinette didn’t stop her. After that, Adrien finally apologized and tried to make things right, but it only turned against him. By then, Lila had everyone so deep into it, that he was powerless. She didn’t go after him as her partnership with Gabriel Agreste was too important, but she did tattle to the Fashion Mogul about it. Gabriel tried to get his son under control, but this was one thing that he couldn’t achieve. 

It did inspire a whole youth fashion line ‘rebel’, which became a global hit.

All this time, Marinette kept two secrets. One was her identity as Ladybug and the guardian, the other was her true name and family. Until she kept neither.

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Marinette returned home after another day at school. Recently, her mother revealed she was pregnant with another child, even though she was believed to be barren. Everyone in the bakery was overjoyed and the couple even started to hand out small treats to any guest that came. The free samples helped the business return to a better standing. 

When she entered, strangely there was no sound in the bakery. It was empty. Usually, her parents would both be very busy as it was still business hours. Slightly worried, she went upstairs. When she entered the living room, she found an envelope addressed to her. 

Isley

We tried, but we can no longer tolerate you. We turned a blind eye when we learned how improper you act, trying to drag every boy you meet for some, and we quote, “alone time”. We didn’t react to the bullying accusations, believing them to be overexaggerated. Even when you were expelled, we still had hoped you’ll turn out into a fine young lady. But now, we must think of the baby. Today was the last straw. Hearing about how you ruined that poor impaired girl’s birthday was both cruel and against everything we taught you. 

We held hope you won’t follow in your mother’s footsteps, but you proved us wrong several times. We supported your obsession over fashion, even with the drama it caused, because it was actually non-violent. At first, we didn’t want to teach you how to fight, but we convinced ourselves that you would have a way to vent the emotions somewhere away from us. 

Please, don’t try looking for us. We will probably have already left the country or even the continent. The bakery is yours. We don’t want to have anything to do with the spawn of evil such as you. 

We hoped you would turn out better

Sincerely,

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng

Marinette tried to read it over and over again, but her eyes welled with tears. She had no idea she was screaming until her throat was coarse. Rationally, she knew she needed to keep calm or she would attract the Akuma, but emotions made her not care. 

Unknowingly to her, the plants all around Paris responded to her cry. They started growing and spreading, trying to get to their queen and comfort her. The Akuma that would’ve come for her stumbled into one of the vines, corrupting it. Hawkmoth was surprised, it was not something anyone ever seen in Paris except on TV or some strange Japanese shows that play after midnight. The more important thing was that even though he akumatized the plants, he had no control over them. He couldn’t even recall his Akuma. 

Back in Marinette’s living room, she started to feel the ground rumble. Soon, plants exploded from the ground and broke windows. She slowly looked at her hands to see them tinted with green. They were not the same as her mother’s, but close. She looked to the floor where pieces of glass littered everything. Her face was the same, but her hair became blue and her eyes were now the most vibrant iridescent green she’s ever seen, exactly the same color her mother’s eyes were. 

She started to panic even more. Tikki floated next to her, talking to her, but Marinette couldn’t hear her. Or maybe process it. She could hear the plants call to her. She could hear them speak. They promised her revenge. They promised retribution on those who attacked her. God’s wrath would rain upon them from the sky and hell’s fury would consume them from beneath. 

Impaired girl…

“Liar Rossi.” Marigold seethed. She knew there was only one person who would do such a thing. Only one talented enough to convince her parents she was a villain. If they wanted a villain, they would get one. Her mind was being clouded. Her clothes were already torn, replaced by a skintight outfit made of leaves, much like her mother wore. Then, Marinette remembered another part of the letter. She added a skirt made of purple petals that complimented her blue hair nicely and long sleeves that reached to her hands, ending with a triangle that reached her middle finger and surrounded it at the base. She left the decolletage as it was.

Exiting her house, she allowed the vines to carry her. There were only so many places The Liar could hide. First, she went toward School, as it was closest. She made plants carry her over the roof right into the courtyard while more of them broke the doors and blocked any exit. The fencing class was still going on, but The Liar was not there. She looked over the scared crowd, spotting two people she wanted to find. She needed to protect them from The Liar, else they end like her. She grabbed the fencer in a red outfit and her partner, knocking their masks to reveal Kagami and Adrien. The plants wrapped around them, forming a sort of cocoon before dragging them to the heart. Marinette then turned her sight to Eifel tower. She knew The Liar liked to drag the class there. 

As she moved through town, she passed the Hotel where Chloe lived. Pausing, she made the plants lift her toward the balcony. Her best friend was indeed there, right next to the lit-up Bee-signal. Honeystly…

“Marinette!?” The blonde jumped in surprise

“Marinette is gone. She should’ve never even been. I’m Marigold, the daughter of Poison Ivy.” For a moment, the fog thickened, but Mari shook it off quickly enough, before whatever caused it managed to get the hold of her. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! If you got yourself akumatized, I’m telling my daddy!” Chloe shouted. Seeing the tears form in the iridescent green eyes, she looked at her friend with pity. “Oh, Mari! Is this the Liar again? Come here right now!” The blonde spread her arms for a hug. She didn’t care about the Akuma. Her friend needed her and she would help her conquer the world if she asked. Chloe owed Mari… everything. She helped her evolve beyond being the queen witch. In response to the gesture, the plants in the garden started to grow until they surrounded the two of them in a tight cocoon. Marinette stepped onto the balcony. She affectionately petted the vine that carried her so far before allowing it to return to its hunt for the Liar. 

“Chloeee!” Mari launched herself at the girl. She sunk into the embrace, allowing tears to start flowing again. She sobbed her heart out while pushing a piece of paper she constantly held in her clutched fist before. The blonde took it and read while patting Marinette on the back of her head. 

“Salauds! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! How dare that cochons! And the chienne! Wait till I tell daddy about this! Don’t worry Mari. I will protect you! I will ruin her! Merde!” The rant made Marigold pause. She never heard Chloe curse. Like… never. “But first. Mari. You know I love you and I would help you hide the body, but drop the Akuma. It’s making you look Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous! I mean the dress is so much spot on and so you, but the whole take over Paris is more my style. I can let you be my faithful sidekick while we take over the world if you want.”

For a moment, Marigold continued to stare at Chloe before she burst out in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t a nervous chuckle or the villain cackle, but genuine pearly laughter. It was just so… Chloe-ish. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to dissuade an Akuma by offering to become a sidekick. 

“You… You… Never change Chlo.” Mari smiled at her friend. 

“Whoa. You… didn’t make me a fertilizer? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t. You are just too good of a person, but Hawkmoth…”

“I’m not akumatized Chloe.” Mari smiled. “It’s me.” As if to prove her point, she stood up and spun, allowing the blonde to see her from all sides. “This is how I really look. Apparently, I do take some after my mom.”

“Your… mom?”

“Pamela Isley, she was a famous biologist. Mom was brilliant. She used to be one of the smartest people in the world.” Mari praised. “There was this one accident that she is now famous for…”

“Pamela Isley? I remember reading about her.” 

“Yeah… She is…”

“Didn’t she create this environment-friendly line of cosmetics?” Chloe asked in her typical fashion

“Yes! I have no idea why everyone remembers her only for the ‘Poison Ivy’ thing!”

“I know, right?” Chloe nodded. “Wait a…”

“Tada!” Mari said weakly before trying to look away, doing everything not to look her friend in the eyes. The blonde gently grabbed her chin and moved it so she could look right into the beautiful green eyes of her best friend.

“Mari! If you think I would abandon you just because your mother took veganism too far… You’re utterly ridiculous!”

Marigold smiled slightly. Slowly, the green receded and her eyes turned back to normal. The dress remained, as without it she would end up naked and she didn’t fancy trying to explain to anyone that. 

She then turned to the plants and tried to order them to return to normal, only for them to resist. For a moment, her mind started to feel fogged, but it didn’t hold at all now. 

“As much as I like the scenery, maybe we stop the plantpocalypse?”

“Um… Remember how I told you I wasn’t akumatized?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the plants are…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Chloe shouted. “Listen here Hawkmoth! Get this Akuma the heck away! I don’t care about some fancy Jewels that will totally clash with your suit! I mean purple and white with red earrings? Are you colorblind?”

There was no visible reaction to the plants. 

“Strange…” Marigold ran her hand over the plants. “They still respond, just refuse to yield.” Inside, Mari cursed that she couldn’t consult Tikki.

“So… Want some cookies?” Chloe asked. “We just have to wait for Ladybug to save the day. At least the damage will be repaired.”

‘Except Ladybug it trapped here…’

Suddenly, something small and black slipped through the vines and entered their small peaceful enclave. It zoomed between items on the balcony, trying to avoid being seen. It would’ve been successful if Chloe didn’t know about Kwamis. 

“What was that!?” She shouted pointing at Plagg’s hiding place.

“What? I didn’t see anything!” Mari tried to lie. It was the one skill she never had. She did compensate for it by never getting caught.

“A Kwami! I’m sure I’ve seen one.” 

“Kwami? Who’s Kwami? Is that some bird? How would a bird get here? I mean we are trapped in…”

“Ugh! I don’t have time for games!” Plagg suddenly floated before the pair. “Chat is trapped and can’t help without revealing himself. Paris is being destroyed mindlessly and nobody can do anything as the vines are harder than steel.” The cat summarized. “And I’m hungry. Give me cheese!” He looked at Chloe. “Camembert would be the best, but I’m not that picky.”

“Why come to us? Ladybug took away my miraculous.” The blonde asked. 

“I didn’t come to you. I came to her.” The god pointed at Mari. 

“Me?! Why? It’s not like…”

“We don’t have time for charades guardian! The Akuma is out of control! Literally! Hawkmoth’s connection was somehow severed and now you have a giant plant that knows only the rage. This is serious!”

Mari wanted to protest or try to save some of her identity, but then Tikki floated out of her purse.

“Oh no! Marinette! He is right! We have a huge problem.”

“Why?” The girl asked resigned.

“You’re Ladybug!” Chloe shouted but was subsequently ignored

“Hawkmoth must’ve akumatized the plant, hoping to control you, but he had no idea it was sentient. But it stopped being sentient the moment you let it go. I… It never happened before.”

“You’re Ladybug!!!” Chloe shouted so loud that everyone had to look at her. 

“We can talk later. Now we need to somehow deal with the plants. Maybe… No. What about… But they are too tough… What if…” Marigold started to run through various scenarios and plans. 

“Can’t you just order them to expel the Akuma?” Plagg asked bored.

“It… It might work.” Mari had a focused expression. In her head, she was running through all her knowledge of biology, miraculous magic, and how her mom’s powers worked. Hesitantly, she walked to the edge of the cocoon and called the main vine to her. The wall spread slightly and allowed the tip of it to enter. Mari touched it and started gently caressing it. 

“you’re a good boy. Yeah! Who’s a good boy? You’re. Yes! You’re a good boy. But Good Boys don’t have Akuma. Do you want to be a good boy? Of course, you do…” 

Chloe stood there and watched how Marigold kept talking to the plant like it was a puppy. She felt something fall into her hand. Opening the palm, she saw two earrings.

“I… I can’t!” She protested, but Plagg floated before her eyes.

“She can’t do it. If Akuma escapes, we will have plantmagedon on a larger scale.”

“Fine. Spots on!”

Just as Mari finally talked the plant into expelling the Akuma, Chloe caught it. 

“Bye Bye Little Butterfly!” She released the pure white bug. “Lucky charm!” Chloe shouted. A red and black folder fell into her hands. She looked at it curiously. Inside, she found a complete set of adoption papers for her father to sign. She quickly pulled out the sheets and tossed the folder itself, releasing a swarm of ladybugs that repaired Paris to how it was before plants. The sheet stayed. 

Transformation dropped after that and Chloe handed the jewel back to the true owner.

“You still have sooo much explaining to do!” 

Nobody remembered about Adrien and Kagami being carried together to safety, which turned out to be Mari’s basement. And while Ladybug Cure should’ve restored them to where they were taken from, for some unknown reason they remained locked there until Mari returned late into the evening to spend the last night at the bakery. It would be some time until Tikki admitted that it was an act of revenge on Plagg for revealing her chosen’s identity. He had to go the whole day without cheese. The one good thing that came from it was that Kagami and Adrien had a long frank talk and ended up as friends. The relationship just wasn’t working.

----------

When Mari was adopted by the Mayor, she decided to keep using the Dupain-Cheng name at least for now. At first, Chloe’s father was against it, but once the girl presented it as a way of getting good press of mayor who personally looks after his citizens he practically ripped the papers to sign them. Although on paper he was the adopter, Chloe was the real parent/sister that took care of Mari. Lila seethed and spitted, but couldn’t really do much more. Adrien and Chloe roped Jagged Stone and Penny into Marinette Protection Squad. Luka and Kagami, who somehow hooked up, also joined. At some point, Mari entrusted Luka and Kagami with permanent Miraculous and Gave Chloe the Bee miraculous back. Some Fox illusion of Chloe publically applauding new heroine helped hide her identity. The hardest part was revealing to Chat, Viperion, and Ryuko her true identity. Adrien was a big surprise, but at least they finally dealt with their crushes once and for all. The fact that they were in love square in two people was way too awkward. Chloe and Mari did notice Adrien sometimes looking at Luka, but he was happy with Kagami. The only person that disproved of ‘Lukagami’ was Kagami’s mother, but she warmed up to him when he accepted the challenge to a duel and was completely pacified when she learned that Luka is apprenticing under Jagged Stone. 

Jagged and Penny wanted to Adopt Mari, but ended up filling the role of uncle and aunt. After some time, Mari realized that she rebuilt what she once had in Gotham. These people might not have been her family by blood, but it mattered little. That family might’ve been damaged, maybe even broken, but they were happy together. They found solace in one another. Once more, Marinette was happy. 

Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors.

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