#explaining my annoying habits

[icystorm76]

One of my favorite things about AEW being after March Madness is I can text my husband (platonic, long story) with random basketball questions, and he info dumps about it to me.

Today he got to explain intentional fouling. Highlights:

“He punches his teammates”

“That sounds counterproductive”

—

“Also, one of the teams had a name that sounded like a cheese”

“Gonzaga?”

“That’s the one!”

—

“So in conclusion, in the last 30 seconds of a close match people just touch their opponents as much as possible in order to intentionally get a foul?”

“I feel like you’re lesbianifying this”

“But yes”

“People usually just grab a player’s waist lmao”

“…I’m the one lesbianifying this?”

[lilac-melody]

hm.

[phagodyke]

zzzzzz

[adelheidvonschicksal]

The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[tokeposts]

𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍

pairing: deaf!katsuki x gn!reader

warning: collage au, swearing, softsuki, pure fluff, all words italicized are meant to be spoken in sign language

notes: this might be my fave thing ive written so far

632 | Bakugou’s never needed words to tell you how he feels. The only problem?You never understand what he’s been saying.

Bakugou signs alot.

At first, you thought it was just muscle memory, like how someone might talk to themselves under their breath. He’d move his hands with sharp, purposeful flicks, his fingers quick and angry, like he was arguing with the air.

But he always signed to you.

You noticed it when he’d glance your way mid-conversation, hands spelling out something with too much intention for it to be coincident. You didn’t understand a word, of course, and he never explained himself. He’d roll his eyes or scoff when you asked. Saying something like figure it out if you’re so interested, but even with his dismissal— he kept doing it.

When he was annoyed with you, his fingers moved fast.

On the rare chance you made him chuckle, he’d sign something slow and subtle, hidden behind his dumb smirk and eye roll.

When he looked at you too long, he’d blink, sign, and look away.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when you finally decided to take a crash course in ASL at your campus library that the words finally started to come together.

“Thanks for saving my seat,” you said softly, placing your bag down beside him. He hums, nodding, red eyes never leaving your own and it’s enough to make your face heat. You’d always thought Bakugou was good looking, but for the longest time, you kept your distance. That is, until he showed up to the lecture one day reading one of your favorite books, and something about that felt like an opening. Since then, sitting next to him became a habit you looked forward to more than you’d admit.

Your other friends liked to joke that you’d worn him down. That you annoyed him into a friendship.

But every time you walked in and found his bag already nudged off the chair beside him, saving the seat just for you, it felt like the smallest kind of miracle.

He never said much about it. Never made a show of saving your space, but he did it every time.

Bakugou shrugged, his hands move fast. You look… tired?

You blinked. “Wait, I— did you say I looked tired?”

He froze. His brows furrow, eyes narrowed. A tiny break in the confidence that was so Bakugou it practically had its own gravitational pull.

“What the fuck," you heard him mumble. It makes you laugh.

He’s quick to sign again. You understood that?

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin. “A little. I’ve been uh—“ You cut yourself off, your own hands coming forward. Learning.

Bakugou scowled, but his ears were tinged red. He signs again, how? you stalking me now?

“No,” you said, laughing. “I took some classes in the library. Besides you're the one who’s been talking at me this whole time. I finally decided to catch up.”

His hands lifted. It is then that the piece start clicking. If you had learned what he was saying than that means... his eyes narrowed.

What else have you seen?

You pause. Beautiful, he had signed once. You’re beautiful.

Another time: I like your laugh. It sounds like wind chimes. The words 'Wind chimes' was a hard one to figure out for sure.

Once: I wish I could kiss you without making things weird.

You shook your head gently. “Beautiful a couple times... but that's all I remember."

Bakugou exhaled sharply. That's all you remembered!? He's going to fucking explode, dear god. He can feel the heat traveling down his neck. His fingers twitched like he wanted to deny it, like he wanted to scream just to redirect the attention.

Instead, he groaned. Looking away before signing something slowly— hands pausing just enough to make sure you’d catch it.

I can help you remember the rest.

You smiled. Yes. I'd love that

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromas with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromas together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[choshashio]

12 Writing Exercises to help develop your character and their voice.

Editors note - There's a lot of boring writers drivel. So, to spare you from the headache if you're not interested, your characters individual voices and personalities are important for engaging stories and interesting plots. You can skip down to the end for the exercises.

Think about the people you know, the people you love. What's one thing they have in common, besides the obvious? They're all uniquely different. Everyone in the world is different in some way, even in media. Books and movies all have unique sounding characters that are different from each other. In Harry Potter, for example, All of the characters have their own voice, even the Weasley twins are different in their own ways.

Complex and unique characters that sound different, interact and speak differently, make for engaging books and dynamics.

I don't know anybody who would want to read a 50,000 word novel about two boring characters, who're exactly alike, and talk in the same monotonous tone. You can have a character who is "boring." who speaks monotonously and still have an interesting novel that people would read.

Having different characters who come together to create funny, interesting, or weird dynamics makes for a readable piece. Take your monotonous character, by themselves, they're kind of boring. They're not engaging to follow. But, introducing different characters to come and interact with your "boring" character, creates funny and memorable dynamics.

Think the anime Saiki K, or Veronica Sawyer from Heathers. If you took only those two characters, and stripped away all of the background characters, they wouldn't make for very interesting stories. Saiki would be happy, living his days in peace and quiet. Veronica would just be a normal edgy high school girl. But if you bring the side characters back, you bring the story and their conflicts back. Saiki goes back to being annoyed by his weird and goofy friends, wishing for peace and quiet. Veronica goes back to being tormented by JD and the group dynamic in the Heathers clique.

These stories utilize background characters to create conflict in their main characters' lives, and makes fun and interesting stories and dynamics with them.

Without further ado, here are 12 exercises to help you develop your characters, and get you thinking.

Ask your character what they want, and have them monologue about it.

Think about who, in your life, does your character remind you of.

Ask yourself, What does my character want, and what does my character need? How do they conflict with each other, and how does this affect my story?

A good exercise to help you write characters interacting, and practice dialogue is to do the ABCD exercise. 

The ABCD exercise is writing a full page, or 500 words, of dialogue between two characters, character a and character b, talking about what they think character c thinks of character d. Then, write another page depicting how character c actually interacts with character d.

Write journal entries from the pov of your character.

Think about your character's habits, nervous tics, or tells, and write out a page where they do those things.

Think about something your character holds dear to them, and give the item a backstory.

Think about how your character interacts with other characters, and write a page for each interaction. 

Think about a belief or opinion your character has, and write a page of dialogue, where your character is explaining their belief, and why they believe in it, to another character.

Write a page about your character reminiscing, or talking, about a cherished memory from their past, or childhood.

Write a page of dialogue about character a telling character c about character b, whom c has never met before, what kind of things do they say? What do they think of b? Then write another page from character c’s point of view, what are they thinking? How do their thoughts of b change? What do they think of character a? How do they imagine character a and b’s relationship?

Write a page about a character being forced into a situation with their greatest fear. Then, if you want to go a step further, write a page of the same thing, but introduce another character that the first holds dear to them, or wants to protect.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff

↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much

↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them

↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]

• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles

• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you

• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about

• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin

• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."

• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch

• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course

• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand

• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf

• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]

• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying

• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule

• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form

• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it

• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up

• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction

• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"

• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further

• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds

• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions

• "Big softie."

• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."

• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."

𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request

• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it

• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years

• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you

• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think

• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you

• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward

• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered

• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."

• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter

• "See, this is why I'm not nice."

• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"

• "Shut the fuck up."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you

• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her

• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief

• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"

• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"

• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion

• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart

• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]

• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you

• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—

• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen

• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that

• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same

• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement

• "No."

• "Could have fooled me, babe."

• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head

• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries

• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"

• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows

• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake

[jungwnies]

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (3/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 900

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Living with Oscar had become… manageable.

Not easy, not seamless, but manageable. The petty wars had slowly given way to something resembling a routine, an unspoken truce where you still annoyed each other but now in a way that felt intentional, like a game neither of you wanted to stop playing.

You’d complain about him leaving his gym bag in the hallway, but you’d secretly check if he made it home every night. He’d roll his eyes at how long you took in the bathroom, but he’d wait for you to get ready before leaving for coffee runs, always bringing you back something even when you hadn’t asked.

It was weird, but it worked.

Which was why, when you walked into the apartment one afternoon and heard an unfamiliar voice, you immediately knew something was up.

At first, you thought Oscar was just talking on the phone. But then you rounded the corner into the kitchen and found another person standing there. Someone with messy brown curls, a mischievous grin, and an unmistakable British accent.

Your eyes flickered between them, and then down to the bright McLaren hoodie the guy was wearing. Another one.

You crossed your arms. "Oh my God. There are two of you, except you're a professional racer."

The guy turned around and grinned, extending a hand like he was meeting someone extremely important. "Hi! You must be the famous roommate."

You shook his hand hesitantly. "I guess..."

Lando tilted his head. "Wait, hold on. You seriously don’t know?"

Oscar cleared his throat. "Don’t."

Lando ignored him, glancing between you and Oscar before realization dawned. His eyes widened, his grin turning downright devilish. "Oh my God. You have no idea who he is, do you?"

You frowned. "What?"

Lando turned fully to Oscar, looking far too entertained. "Mate. You’ve been living with her for weeks, and she still thinks you’re just some McLaren employee?"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Oscar sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Lando."

"What?" Lando held up his hands innocently. "I just think it’s hilarious."

You narrowed your eyes at Oscar. "What is he talking about?"

Oscar hesitated, shifting awkwardly, before finally letting out a resigned sigh. "I drive for McLaren."

Silence.

You stared at him. "…Like a company car or…?"

Lando wheezed.

"No," Oscar muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Formula One."

The words hung in the air, completely lost on you for a second before everything clicked at once.

The McLaren gear. The ridiculous travel schedule. The Monster Energy fridge takeover.

Your jaw dropped. "Oh my God. You’re an F1 driver?"

Oscar sighed again. "Yes."

"You mean to tell me," you said slowly, "that I have been treating you like some random guy in a McLaren hoodie, while you are actually a literal professional race car driver?"

Lando was dying laughing at this point, bracing himself against the counter. "This is the best thing I’ve ever seen."

You turned to Oscar, still in complete disbelief. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Oscar shrugged. "You never asked."

"You’re kidding."

He wasn’t.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "Jesus Christ. I thought you were just a really intense fanboy!"

Lando practically collapsed from laughter, and Oscar just looked vaguely exhausted.

"Well," Lando finally said, wiping his eyes, "this explains why you haven’t been completely insufferable lately."

You frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Lando smirked, tossing a knowing glance toward Oscar. "Oh, nothing. Just that I’ve noticed a little shift in the air."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Don’t start."

But now, your curiosity was piqued. You glanced between them. "Start what?"

Lando’s grin widened. "Oh, just that you two have been living together for weeks, and suddenly Oscar doesn’t seem to mind having a roommate, unlike at the beginning, all he did was complain."

You scoffed. "I still annoy him."

"Yeah, but now he likes it."

You turned to Oscar, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to deny it.

Instead, he simply muttered, "Lando, I swear to God."

Lando shrugged. "I’m just saying! Something’s blossoming."

Your stomach flipped.

You hadn’t even considered that possibility. You and Oscar were… well, whatever you were now. Frenemies, at best. Sure, the pranks had stopped feeling so mean, and sure, he had started softening in ways you weren’t sure he even noticed. But that didn’t mean anything, right?

Still, you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for Oscar to say something.

Instead, he just shook his head. "Nah, I don’t know."

Your chest tightened, a strange, sinking feeling settling in your stomach. You weren’t even sure why.

It wasn’t like you wanted him to say something else.

Right?

Before you could think about it too much, you stood abruptly. "I need to make a call."

You walked to your room, closing the door behind you before pulling out your phone and dialing one of your friends.

"Hey," you said as soon as they picked up. "I need you to tell me why my stomach just dropped to my ass when Oscar said he doesn’t have feelings for me."

There was a pause.

Then, your friend sighed. "Oh, honey."

You groaned, flopping onto your bed. "Don’t oh honey me, just tell me what the hell is happening."

"Sounds like you like him," they said, far too smug.

You scoffed. "That’s ridiculous."

"Is it?"

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, ready to say something logical, something that made sense.

But nothing came out.

And that’s when you knew you were in deep, deep trouble.

taglist : @sugarfreerbr , @no-144444 , @window-to-nothing , @judelina , @littlegrapejuice , @formulaal , @spikershoyo , @eclipsedcherry , @whispersofthewild , @1-queenofpotatoes-1 , @obxstiles , @poppysrin , @a-beaverhausen , @blakebearsblog , @fastandcurious16 , @imdyinghelpplease , @reginalaufeyson-holmes , @percy-jackson-fan909 , @bavo-delta-eccho , @chloes-book-corner , @edgyficuselastica | (comment to be added ... bolded couldn't be tagged)

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[monogamia]

hiii! i loved the piece you wrote about caleb, sylus, and xavier’s reaction to their kid telling their mom to shut up. i was wondering if i could request a part 2 with zayne and rafayel?

i hope you’re well and stay hydrated!

੭⠀A LITTLE PRANK.

⋆⠀AUTHOR'S NOTES: I made this part a little longer than I intended, but I hope you like it. <3

⋆⠀FEATURING: Rafayel, Zayne.

⋆⠀WARNINGS: English is not my first language, so it may contain some mistakes.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀RAFAYEL

That afternoon, your house was bathed in an unusual calm, almost total silence, if not for the soft giggles coming from your youngest daughter as she played with her father. Rafayel was sitting on the floor, holding her tiny hands, dipping them into paint, and letting her clap them onto a piece of paper already grayish from so many colors blending together.

You watched the scene with a smile on your face, until your eldest son walked into the room, wearing that mischievous look you knew all too well. You swore his playful nature was inherited from his father—and the older he got, the worse it became. He wasn’t disobedient or rebellious, but he had recently developed a habit of testing boundaries, especially with his dad. This time, he had even convinced you to play along with one of his ridiculous ideas.

He flopped onto the couch, yawning. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “You should take a shower before sprawling all over the furniture after your outings.”

Rafayel glanced over at the two of you, opening his mouth to say something, but your son spoke first. “Shut up—”

He didn’t even finish the sentence, falling silent when a high-pitched gasp escaped his father’s lips. Even your daughter looked up, slightly startled. Rafayel stood up, holding her in one arm, while his free hand pointed at the teenager. “Are you trying to get disowned!?”

While your son stood there completely speechless, you had one hand over your mouth, laughing. “Dad—”

“What are you, a caveman, to act like that?” Rafayel asked, his voice dripping with exaggerated disdain. The baby in his arm burst into laughter, clapping her hands and then rubbing one of them on his cheek, leaving a blue smudge behind.

”… It was a prank,” the boy explained, already embarrassed by how far his father was taking it.

Rafayel narrowed his eyes. “Oh, a prank? How wonderful, we’ve got a comedian in the family.” He gestured dramatically with his free hand. “Apologize to your mother. Now.”

Your son sighed, sinking further into the couch with a groan. “Mom…!” he grumbled, clearly hoping you’d tell him to shut up.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀ZAYNE

Your son was never a stubborn or messy child, at least not when he was younger. Whether it was adolescence or simply him picking up traits from his parents, the fact was that he had developed a habit of annoying his father. Not with any bad intentions—just a pure, innocent desire to disrupt the poor man’s peace. And this time, he had even managed to convince you to join him.

Zayne was in the living room, reading a book, and beside him, your son was doing the same. You entered the room to remind your son to tidy up his room, though you had already forgotten about the plan the two of you had cooked up. “So, when do you plan on making your room livable again?” you asked, glancing at your son.

Without even looking up from the book, he replied, “Shut up, mom.”

You pulled a genuinely surprised expression, as your boy had never spoken to you like that before. Sensing your disbelief, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow. And that’s when you remembered, letting out a sigh.

The book was suddenly plucked from his hands, and he could swear the atmosphere in the room had grown a little colder.

“Would you like to repeat that?” Zayne asked, his gaze locked on his son. The boy gave an awkward laugh and swallowed hard, already regretting the idea. “I think you should reconsider your actions… While you’re tidying up your room.”

Running a hand through his hair, he glanced at you, almost pleading for your intervention, but decided to obey instead, leaving you with the unpleasant task of explaining it had all been… a “joke”.

You sat down beside Zayne on the couch, leaning your head on his shoulder. “He was just trying to get on your nerves again.”

“I suspected as much, but your surprised expression threw me off,” Zayne said, pinching your cheek lightly. “I believe next time he’ll choose a prank that doesn’t test my patience like that.” His lips curved into a faint smile.

[worshipthecrow]

"Meeting the parents"

Summary: You received a call from your mother while you were with Sylus, your parents want to meet your boyfriend.

Content: Sylusx Female! Reader, Reader is exaggerating the situation in her head, death threats.

A/n: I introduced Sylus to my parents with the tete-a-tete function and more or less the things that happened are portrayed here, some comments were made after explaining them the whole game and stuff. English is not my first language, if you find any mistakes, let me know so I can correct them.

One, two, three breaths you took before opening the door and stepping inside with your heart pounding in your chest and cold sweat on your back, Sylus was waiting for you to return from your phone call.

His shirt half open and his lips swollen from the long kissing session would be a hot and inviting sight if it weren’t for your mother’s voice booming in your brain.

We want to meet him, you’ve been with him for how long? A year? And you still haven’t brought him home, if that was a lie don’t worry honey, my friend’s son is still single and very handsome.

Your mother’s playful tone made you frown, you exchanged a few more words and hung up the phone.

He smiled sideways at you, waiting for you to sit back on his lap to continue.

“Hey…” you didn’t let him finish when the words came out of your mouth like a suppressed cough, fast and violent “

“My parents want to meet you”

You noticed the slight change in his gaze and posture, but then he relaxed again, held out his hand for you to take, which you did without thinking because of habit, and making you sit on his lap, tangling his finger in a lock of your hair.

“When?” a simple question, you expected more, maybe nervousness, maybe that he would refuse, but there was only one question.

Why don’t you bring him tonight? I’m making pork ribs, your favorite, it would be a good time to meet him.

It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order said sweetly with a little threat.

“Tonight” you whispered, he hummed caressing the skin on your arm, nervousness didn’t let you enjoy the sweet touch.

“All right, if that’s what you want, sweetie” you let out a heavy sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

And for the rest of the afternoon, it was you, stressed to the bone that what would happen in this inevitable disaster, someone would die, and you hoped it would be you, just to get away from this situation.

Sylus took you to your parents’ house on his motorcycle, you would have preferred to go by car, taking advantage of the traffic to get ready or to fake an emergency, but no, the way was too short and fast and now that you were in front of the door you wanted to vomit your guts on the floor.

It was he who rang the doorbell, just long enough to be heard but not annoying, the door was opened by your mother, the image was endearing, the chubby little woman greeted the two of you with a sweet smile letting you in, she still had her apron on, wet and you guessed she was washing the utensils she used to cook.

Your father was in the living room, you noticed the tiny sauce stain on his shoe, and you knew that today, of all days, would be the worst day of your life, nothing good came out of it when your father was helping your mother cook.

Your mother called everyone to the dining room, your stomach was doing somersaults, you walked stiffly to your seat, Sylus, out of habit, opened the chair for you to sit down and then sat next to you.

Your mother served your plate first, as always, the smell of the ribs, that delicious smell that always made your mouth water made you feel the worst nausea you had ever experienced in your life.

You watched her prepare your father’s dish, and the familiar fight of “one more” “no, the doctor said to watch your cholesterol” took some of the tension out of the situation, but knowing that the next dish to be served would be Sylus’ only reminded you of the chaos that was about to unfold, you prayed to any god that was willing to listen to you even though you had never been devoted to any of them.

Your mother took the plate placed two ribs and you held your breath as your mom’s voice came through your ears like the scream of a banshee.

“So, Sylus, what do you do for a living?” the smack of the mashed potatoes against the plate almost made you squeal.

“I run a family-owned business that covers a range of services and offers various products. We deliver fruit and even sell state-of-the-art technology and I work with a lot of talented individuals. If you’reinterested, I’d be happy to discuss it in more detail another time.”

You buried your fingernails in your thigh, the way your father bit into the rib meat made your heart stop for a second and the look on your mother’s face didn’t make you feel any better either, you slowly chewed the tender juicy meat, feeling it like lead in your mouth.

“And what do you do in your spare time?” your father’s piercing gaze said he wanted to give him a shot between the eyebrows, too bad that wouldn’t work, you knew it too well.

“My hobbies are very simple. I collect vynil records, play the organ, and occasionally sing. According to your daughter, my singing isn’t too bad.” The sideways smile made you blush as you shoved mashed potatoes in your mouth and avoided the zucchini from the boiled vegetables. “Do you like to sing? If so. You’re always welcome to visit my private karaoke bar.”

“Do you live with anyone? Your family?”

You bit into the carrot so hard that your teeth hurt.

“I live alone and I have a relatively flexible schedule” you blushed and drank from your pomegranate juice as your mother looked sideways at you, you knew what was going through her head. “I stay at my base most of the time. Otherwise, I’m in a hotel for business meetings or go to my private ranch when I need to unwind.”

Sylus smiled softly, and you swallowed saliva admiring how his factions softened.

“I own several beautiful horses, and one of them has grown particularly fond of your daughter. The two of them offer frolic together at the ranch. I like seeing her be carefree and happy” you held back a surprised gasp at his words, you needed to scream, preferably at your best friend, as you melted into a puddle of mush, that was too sweet, ugh. “… if I might ask, are either of you interested in shooting or racing?”

Now you wanted to scream, but out of hysteria, even though you were a wanderer hunter it’s not like your parents were too happy about it when they expected you to be something else, like a doctor, a lawyer, even a teacher, gun handling was always a constant discussion when you lived with them and expressed your desire to be a hunter.

“I have licensed facilities filled with the necessary equipment. You’re welcome to enjoy them to your heart’s content, while it might not be obvious at first glance, I’m very good at taking care of people”

You decided to concentrate on your plate, while eating, you blinked for a couple of seconds noticing something strange but ignored it in favor of continuing eating your pork ribs.

“Because of our time together, I developed new interests. I enjoy taking her to auctions and fashion shows, I like seeing her shine, And her happiness is my happiness”

Your heart stopped at the softness of voice, you wanted to cry in his arms and tell him you loved him, but that would be too dramatic at a family dinner and you could do that when you got back to his house in the N109 Zone.

“What about the future, hmm?” everyone had finished as they spoke, you felt a lump in your throat hard to swallow, what about the future indeed, you squeezed your glass as you took a swig.

“I’ll always support her with whatever she wants to do. I’ll also stand by her side without question”

The Table was silent for a few seconds while your father picked up the dirty dishes and your mother took something out of the refrigerator, you recognized the pot immediately, you had seen it so many times during birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and New Year.

You got up and opened a drawer and took out a plate and helped your mother unmold the flan, the color of the caramel reminded you of your childhood, when on your birthday your mother made a small mold just for you, of Christmas fighting with your older brother for the last slice, which in the end you shared sitting on the floor playing on the console.

It had been so long since you had eaten your mother’s flan, that seeing it now was just a balm for your stressed heart.

You left the plate with the flan on the table carefully, your mother took the knife out of a drawer and returned to the table to cut it.

“Everything you said was very nice Sylus” your mother’s voice gave you a shiver that went all the way down your spine to the back of your neck. “But alas for you where you hurt her, I don’t want to see her cry because of you, because I swear every time you go out you are going to have to watch your back, because if I have to, I will disappear you and no one will ever find you, was I clear enough?”

The sight was hilarious, your mother, the short woman, shorter than you in fact, was threatening the leader of Onychinus with a kitchen knife shiny from the caramel for having cut the flan, with a sweet smile as she offered him the plate with the dessert.

Sylus wasn’t expecting it at all from the look of utter surprise on his face, accepting the plate with a sideways smile.

“Like crystal” he replied softly and your mother smiled again as she handed out the plates, you breathed easy that she hadn’t stabbed him, your father poured the coffee, you put sugar and milk in yours.

The rest passed relatively quietly, lighter conversations and your father constantly telling you to take care of yourself on your missions and your mother reminding you that you could always come home if you decided to quit your job.

After finishing dessert and coffee your father took you to the garage, saying he had something to show you, you followed him thinking it would be some new car he was repairing, or a modified motorcycle, but no, he sat in his folding chair and you sat next to him, nervous about leaving Sylus and your mother alone for too long, you didn’t know if she would try to stab him in the back.

“Does he treat you well?” your father looked at you with his dark eyes, the ones you had inherited, and you nodded.

“He does”

“He seems nice, and he has money” you nodded, uncomfortable about that last “I was worried, when he said he stayed in hotels, that he worked with “individuals”, I thought he would cheat on you” your heart pounded in your chest, you once had that same thought but the fact that Sylus would always answer your calls, messages no matter the time or place removed those doubts a long time ago, “but then, he started eating the zucchini off your plate when you put them aside and the looks, he looked at you like you were the moon, like you put the sun in the sky, it gave me diabetes”

And you laughed, so hard that you threw your head back as you laughed at the top of your lungs, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your father looked at you like you were insane even though he was smiling subtly.

Sylus appeared a few moments later as you were catching your breath, your cheek half numb.

“Your mother wants you to help her dry the dishes”

You got up from your chair and walked towards the door, when Sylus turned to follow you your father called him to talk to him, you looked at him and nodded, you weren’t worried, if your mother didn’t try to kill him your father wouldn’t either, you went to the kitchen and your mother greeted you with a cloth to dry the dishes and you waited.

“I like him” she said “I like that he talked about you like that, he almost doesn’t seem real” you snorted under your breath, wondering what the two of them must have said while you were gone. “Better than your exes, definitely”

You groaned, remembering that your closest group of friends from high school still called your ex from that time “evil cockroach”, and still laughed at his love misfortunes when they got to hear something about him, you were fine staying out of it, but your mean side also felt satisfaction when it turned out that his last girlfriend had dumped him.

“He has everything you like as well, music lover, animal lover, and I am relieved to know he has gun licenses, that means he will always be able to take care of you and you will have good weapons for your missions” your mother dried the flan pot and put it back in its special drawer.

“The hunters association provides us with enough guns” although you weren’t going to deny that the Harrier 700’s were your favorite.

“He’s very much in love with you” your mother evaded the subject of your job, as always, you knew her stance on your safety and the many times you had been scolded over the phone when you were in the hospital was reminder enough “tie him up”

“Mom!” you shouted, shocked, you knew she meant ‘marry him’ but with Sylus it could be very literal that matter.

“What? You would have cute babies” you covered your face in embarrassment, leaving the plate you were drying on the counter so as not to throw it on the floor “and he has nice buttocks”

“MOM!” you shouted in a high pitched voice, definitely embarrassed and your mother laughed at you, you were aware of Sylus’ attributes, but you didn’t want to discuss them with your mother.

“He hides things doesn’t he?” you nodded, calmer at the change of subject, although it wasn’t something you wanted to discuss either, you continued drying the plates and glasses. “But you know what it is?” another nod from you “Well, as long as you know it’s okay, but I don’t want to get you out of prison”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, aware of the approval your parents were giving, your mother a little too enthusiastic, your mother and you finished drying the dishes just as Sylus and your father were coming back in.

The goodbye was better than the welcome and without the stress you felt tired all at once, you wanted to go back and sleep for the next week.

With a last hug to your mother and the mortification that she gave you a condom, you rode up behind Sylus on the bike and hugged him around the waist until you returned home.

You threw yourself on the bed, ready to accomplish your desires, Sylus pulled off your pants as you grunted and tucked you under the blanket, then lay down behind you, brushing your face with something, you opened your eyes and ripped the platinum package from his fingers and threw it on the nightstand, you cursed your mother.

“Don’t even think about laughing” you said through your teeth.

“You are kinda like your mom, she’s the one in charge isn’t she?” you sighed and laid on your back.

“Yeah, my dad has a bad temper, but my mom is the one in charge, if she says do it you do it” you saw his sideways grin.

“It runs in the family I guess, you’re bossy too, Kitten” he kissed your neck and even though you wanted to get mad you couldn’t, you were tired and wanted to sleep, until…

“What did you and my mom talk about?” The kissing stopped and Sylus lay back, towering over you resting his head in his palm and his elbow on the pillow.

“Your past relationships and veiled threats disguised as funny comments, who is ‘the evil cockroach’?”

“Ugh, my chronically unfaithful ex” you shrugged “that would be a better story to tell when you meet my friends, they make it funnier”

“Oh, so I’ll meet the group too?” the comment had come out of nowhere, but if you introduced him to your parents, who you were most worried about them meeting, your friends should be easier no?

“I guess so, although I’ll have to arrange the meeting when we’re all free” you were already getting a slight headache just thinking about squaring schedules so you could set up a meeting.

“I’ll be available whenever you want” you smiled softly at him, you were too grateful that he seconded you on all the things you wanted to do, whether they were ridiculously childish or not.

“I’ll talk to them tomorrow, now I want to sleep” you turned in bed and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down and put your face in the crook of his neck, Sylus wrapped his arms around your waist as he gently stroked your back.

You drifted off to sleep, as you thought about the best way to tell your friends that you wanted them to meet your mysterious boyfriend you talked about all the time. Maybe something like…

“Hey, do you guys want to meet my boyfriend?”

Yeah, that might be nice.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Hurricane - Part 1

{Max’s eyes snap up to meet hers when Emma greets him, voice still a bit scratchy from sleep. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles over at her. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty!” 

Emma rolls her eyes but feels the heat creep back into her cheeks. “I feel more like Maleficent in her dragon form than Aurora.” 

Max smiles over at her again, “Well, I assure you, I could never mistake you for a dragon.” }

warnings: swearing, discussions of sexual harassment by an employer, max being a protective guard dog, anxiety, emma's parents suck hardcore in this one. pairing: max verstappen x emma meyer (original character) word count: 4.7k words

master list hurricane playlist ask me anything

“Max, are you at home?” The panic that edged into Victoria’s voice had Max sitting up straighter on the couch, despite the mind-numbing exhaustion that threatened to pull him under. 

“I literally just walked in the door ten minutes ago, Vic. What’s wrong? Everything okay?” He knew it wasn’t. Victoria rarely called him anymore, too busy wrangling 2 little boys and now a new baby girl. He understood but it still stung every time he tried to call her after a race and she didn’t answer. So something had to be really wrong to get Vic out of bed this late on a Monday night to call him. 

“It’s Emma…” 

Max’s brain scrambled trying to figure out why that name sounded familiar. “Emma?” 

On the other end of the phone, his sister huffed a sigh, clearly not in the mood to explain the little details like who she was talking about. “Emma Meyer? The woman that was my maid of honor at my wedding? Gave a big speech that I think made even you tear up?” 

It all clicked suddenly as Max hummed in confirmation. He hadn’t seen Emma since his sister’s wedding a few years prior, but even then his memories of her were fuzzy. She was Victoria’s best friend but he never had been that close to her other than a few passing glances and casual greetings after sleepovers when Max was still living at home. Other than that though, Max remembered very little of his sister’s best friend. “What does Emma have to do with me being home?” 

“I need you to go get her.” 

Max’s brain stuttered for a moment as he struggled to wrap his mind around the sentence his sister had said. “What are you talking about, Vic? I’m not…What?” 

There was no way Max was going to leave the apartment for the foreseeable future for anything, let alone a woman who he didn’t even know. He’d just touched down from China less than an hour ago, a race that had been fraught with drama and tension in the Red Bull garage. He’d missed the podium by one spot but considering how dog shit the car was this year, he was just happy to have finished in the points. Between that and the drama around his struggling teammate and the imminent decision of his fate in the 2nd Red Bull seat, Max had been looking forward to a few days of complete and total silence and isolation. 

“I know you’re tired and just got back from a race weekend but I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t an emergency. Emma took a nannying job in Monaco a few weeks ago and the dad is a total creep.” 

This caught Max’s attention. He may not remember much about Emma but the one thing that stood out in his memory was how close her and Vic had been growing up and how much Vic adored her. She had always been a quiet mouse of a little girl, walking around as if she was worried her mere presence would annoy anyone she came into contact with. The thought of anyone causing that little girl distress made Max’s stomach twist painfully. 

“What do you mean ‘creep’?” 

Victoria heaved a sigh, “I’ve been telling her to quit since the day she got there. He makes comments about her body, has a habit of walking around at night in just his boxers, has cornered her in the kitchen a few times when the wife was out of the house.” 

Bile rose in Max’s throat with each bit of information he learned. 

“The wife caught him tonight when he cornered Emma while she was doing dishes. The fucking asshole had the balls to blame it on her! Said she’d been trying to seduce him since the day she started.” 

“Are you serious?” Max stood from the couch, still seething at the story Victoria was telling him, and started towards the door. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed the first set of keys he saw before reaching for his wallet. 

“Deadly!” Victoria cried. “So the wife, of fucking course, believed her husband and fired Emma on the spot. She called me sobbing. She has no where to go and it’s nearly dark.” 

“Ok. I’ll go get her. Can you send me her location and tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can. Send me her number too, I’ll call her when I get close. Is she still in the house?” 

Max was already at the elevator to his penthouse, stabbing the button for the garage level as he listened to Victoria. “I think she’s packing now. I’m going to call her back and stay on the phone with her until you get there. I’ll send you her location and number now.” 

The relief in his sister’s voice was unmistakable. He could tell this situation really had her spooked and for someone as level headed and Dutch as his sister, Max knew this was serious. 

“It’s okay, Vic. I’ll go get her and make sure she’s safe. Then we’ll figure out what our next move is from there. Tell her to call the police if the husband tries anything else.” 

Hearing a message notification chime, Max pulled the phone away from his ear to see the pin that Victoria had sent him. A quick scan of the map told him everything he needed to hear. The tension that had slowly been building up between his shoulder blades eased a bit when he saw how close Emma was. “She’s only 10 minutes away from the apartment. Tell her I’ll be there soon, okay?” 

It only took Max seven minutes to reach the sleepy neighborhood tucked away in the hilly outskirts of Monaco. Behind him the sun had set the early spring sky ablaze with golds, yellows, and reds as it began its nightly descent behind the sea. The breeze was calmer up here compared to his apartment back down closer to the marina but as Max’s eyes flicked from the nav system on his Aston Martin to the road looking to see where Emma was, he saw the leaves in the tree flutter slightly. 

The map program alerted Max to his imminent arrival and just as the sun started to ease further behind the horizon, he caught sight of a petite blonde standing on the sidewalk surrounded by three giant suitcases. Max struggled to rectify the image of Emma he had been building in his head over the last 20 minutes with the woman that was standing there waiting for him. The Emma he had expected had been cobbled together from innocent old memories that were fuzzy at the edges and brief catches of attention the last time he had seen her at Victoria’s wedding. 

The Emma that was standing in front of his bottle green Aston Martin, looking at him wide eyed with tears streaming down her face, was not what he expected. Her hair was impossibly long, falling nearly to her waist, with half of it pulled up and out of her face, piled in a messy bun near the crown of her head. She was taller than he remembered but just as slender, more delicate than he recalled but those dove gray eyes that reminded him of the marina on a rainy day? He’d never forget the way they’d blinked over at him that evening, wide and terrified. 

Max’s heart twisted violently when he realized she’d been crying. It took every ounce of carefully trained control to keep him from walking straight into the mansion he was parked in front of and beat some sense into whoever made Emma cry like that. 

Throwing his car into park, Max was up and out of the car in the blink of an eye. “Emma!” He called out, relieved to see that there was no one watching her from the house. 

It was if something clicked in Emma’s brain the moment Max said her name. Instantly, the guarded, scared look of a bird about to take flight flickered out of her eyes, her face relaxing into something still cautious but much more open than before. 

“Max.” The way she says his name sounds like relief, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

He’s in front of Emma then, staring down at her, searching for any hint of physical harm that her former employer might have done in the time it took him to get to her. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind alarm bells clanged to life at the way he itched to touch her, to make sure that she was real. 

Alarm bells that he ignored. 

“Are you okay?” Max works to keep his voice low and steady, to keep from spooking her with how angry he really was. 

Emma nods quickly, her eyes darting back towards the mansion behind her before flicking back up to meet Max’s gaze again. She hugs herself tightly, like she’s desperately trying to ground herself, like the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth was the fact that her arms were wrapped snugly around her middle. She’s shivering, despite the late evening heat still hanging in the air, and it takes everything Max has not to wrap her up in his arms to get her to stop shaking. 

“Physically? Yeah. Just shaken more than anything really.” 

Max shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and nods, “Okay.” He says softly, gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before turning to the three suitcases sitting sadly on the sidewalk. “Let’s get these into the car and then we’ll go back to my apartment and figure out our next move.”

Emma shakes her head, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “You can just take me to a hotel or something, I don’t want to be an imposition. I should have enough money for a night or two.” Anxiety flickers across her face and Max feels the bile rise in his throat again. There was something desperate in the way she’d replied, like she felt she was going to get into trouble for accepting his help. 

Max shakes his head, leaning down to pick up the biggest of the three suitcases. “Vic would cut off my balls if she found out I allowed that.” 

He smirks when Emma chokes out a laugh at his words, relieved at the way the weight on her shoulders seem to shift into something easier to carry. 

“You’re not going to let me with this one, are you?” She asks, sensing that she’d be fighting a losing battle if she tried to convince him of anything else. 

Having slipped the first suitcase into the trunk of the car, Max returns to the curb to retrieve the last two. He grins at her before he bends down, “I’m a four time world champion, do you think I’m going to let you win anything ever?” 

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Fine. But only for one night, okay? You’ve already been more than generous with your time.” 

“You’re important to Vic, so it’s important to me that you’re safe.” Max says simply before slamming the trunk. 

The look on Emma’s face at his words has him pausing. He can’t quite place the emotion behind it but there are wisps of confusion and anxiety dancing across her pretty features. Max has never been particularly good at reading people though, so he could be wrong. Cars are easy for him. They make sense. They never say one thing while meaning the complete opposite. It’s people that confuse him. 

Just as Max rounds the front of his car, intent on ushering Emma into the passenger seat of his car, the front door of the mansion swings open. A tall, balding man stands in the doorway, his face a flaming shade of indignant angry red. 

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He yells from the porch, loud and accusatory, the harsh words cutting through the quiet evening air. 

Max freezes for only a moment before stepping between Emma and the man as he stalks down the sidewalk towards the pair. The protective instincts that had flared the moment Victoria had told him about the ‘creep’ now surged into white-hot fury. He recognized the entitled arrogance radiating off the man, knew he was one of those men that wasn’t used to hearing the word no and had the fuse of an old charge of TNT. Short. Dangerous. 

Max’s jaw clenches as he checks to make sure Emma is securely behind him and out of reach of the man now standing less than six feet away from them. 

“I’m helping Emma leave.” Max replies, dangerous and low. 

“Leave? She was fired! She has no right to take anything from this house! She could be robbing us blind for all we know!” 

Max scoffs, “She has every right to her belongings, you piece of shit. You have absolutely no evidence she’s taken anything else.” He spits, his carefully constructed walls of composure rapidly crumbling. 

He takes a step towards the man, pulling himself up to his full height, intent on intimidation. The exhaustion from his long flight back to China, the frustration of the race weekend, the political drama fueling his team right now, all of it was forgotten and replaced by a strange and sudden primal urge to protect the blonde cowering behind him. 

“You watch your tone, boy! Do you even know who I am?” Th man blusters, puffing out his chest in a pathetic attempt to intimidate the Dutchman. 

Max barks out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck about who you are. You preyed on a vulnerable woman who was living under your roof, taking care of your children, thousands of miles away from her own home. You made her feel unsafe and then you blamed her for your disgusting behavior.” Max’s chest heaves. He hadn’t realized just how worked up he was until this moment. “The only thing I care about right now is getting Emma away form you, you pathetic excuse of a man.” 

Behind him, Emma gasps softly, her hand flying to her mouth. 

But Max wasn’t done. He takes another step towards the man, who notably shuffles away from the finger Max is now pointing straight into his chest. “And if you so much as try to contact her again,” He seethes, “You’ll have me to deal with me and my team of very well educated, very expensive lawyers who I keep on retainer at all times. They love going after assholes like you. So go ahead and fuck around, because they’d love to see you find out.” 

The man, despite his previous blustering, seems to shrunk back slightly under the intensity of Max’s glare. Silence hangs heavy in the air as the man’s eyes dart from Max over to Emma and then back again. 

“Get off my property!” He finally sputters, pointing his own shaking finger back at Max. 

“Gladly.” Max sneers. Turning back to Emma, his expression softens slightly as he takes in her wide, still-tearful eyes. “Lets go.” His hand finds the small of Emma’s back and he gently guides her into the passage door of his car. 

He keeps his gaze fixed on the man standing on the sidewalk as Emma slips into his car. Only when she’s safely tucked away inside and the door is closed does Max finally turn his back fully on the mansion. He walks to the drivers side quickly, his adrenaline still pumping and the image of Emma’s distress and the man’s repulsive demeanor burned into his mind. 

What had started out as a quiet night to recover from the chaos that was his entire existence had shifted into something entirely unexpected and Max wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen next. 

It was the silence that woke Emma up the next morning. For the last two weeks she had been woken up at exactly 6:30am by the two children that she had been nannying for, despite her contractual hours not beginning until 8am. So when she blinked away the sleep, eyes gritty with exhaustion after the drama the night before, Emma was confused. The sheets were too soft, the bedroom too bright, the silence too loud. 

The memories of last night came flooding back as she sat up in bed. 

How Andrea had screamed at her when she had walked in on Marcus cornering her in the kitchen. At first she had been relieved, happy that her boss was finally going to see first hand the harassment she’d been dealing with since she came to live with them but the relief quickly turned into horror as Marcus had spun the story to benefit him and blame her. The fight that had ensued had roused both Amelia and Beatrice from their beds but Emma had been powerless to protect the two little girls. 

How panicked she had felt while packing up her belongings as Andrea had hovered at the doorway of her bedroom in the basement. 

How relieved she had felt when Victoria had picked up on the first ring, instantly saying she’d call her brother to see if he was in Monaco and available to help.

How her stomach had twisted the first time Max had said her name. 

Heat flared in Emma’s cheeks as she remembered that part. His voice, thick Dutch accent laced with concern, echoed in her head as she made moves to get out of bed and figure out what was next. She hadn’t seen him since Victoria’s wedding a handful of years ago but nothing had changed about him. His icy blue eyes had pinned her right to the sidewalk, intense and concerned. She hadn’t expected him to actually show up for her but if there was one thing Max Verstappen loved, it was his sister. Emma was pretty sure he would do anything for her. 

Pausing at the door after pulling a sweater on over the tank top she had worn to bed, Emma listened to see if Max was awake yet. She had no idea what his schedule was or if he was waiting for her. The thought of asking Max and Vic for more help after all they had done last night turned her stomach sour. The voice of her mother echoed in her head in the absence of any sound coming from outside the spare room: ‘Emma, if you can’t do this by yourself, you cannot do it at all. I don’t want to help you and your father doesn’t have the time. Figure it out yourself.’ 

Figure it out yourself. 

That had been the mantra she had been raised with and even now, at 25 years old, that lesson that had been ingrained in her head as a little girl still stuck.

But Max had come for her. No questions. No pushing. No ‘how could you have let this happen to you?’ accusations. Just a simple, steady presence and a question after her well being. It soothed something raw in her at the same time it made her anxious, the dueling feelings unsettling something deep within her. 

As Emma padded down the quiet hallway, her heart rate ratcheted up. Last night, after Max had refused to bring her to a hotel, Emma had pretty much immediately taken refuge in the solitude that the guest room had offered her. There had been little small talk on the drive home but the silence hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable. That was something she had always appreciated about her best friend’s older brother. He sat in the silence comfortably, not feeling the need to fill it with silly platitudes or casual conversation. 

She found Max standing at his kitchen counter, soft gray t-shirt stretching tightly over his broad chest and biceps. He had a ball cap on with the bill turned backwards, a pair of black sweats riding low on his hips. Emma’s mouth went dry at the sight of him, Max’s arms working confidently as he scrambled eggs in a small metal bowl. 

“Morning.” 

Max’s eyes snap up to meet hers when Emma greets him, voice still a bit scratchy from sleep. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles over at her. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty!” 

Emma rolls her eyes but feels the heat creep back into her cheeks. “I feel more like Maleficent in her dragon form than Aurora.” 

Max smiles over at her again, “Well, I assure you, I could never mistake you for a dragon.” 

Emma huffs a laugh, shaking her head. For the first time, she notices the veritable spread that covers most of the kitchen counter she was leaning against. A giant bowl of cut fruit, bacon, pancakes stacked several high. Behind Max, the stove was switched on and she could see a pan of scrambled eggs sizzling away.  

Panic inches into the edge of Emma’s mind. Oh God, what if he had plans with someone this morning and she had ruined it all? What if he had someone staying with him last night and this was all for her and not Emma? What if she had just barged in on a date that Max had ended early just to come to her rescue? The thoughts spiraled as she stood there, barefoot cold on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. 

“This is…a lot of food.” Emma chokes on the words, hoping Max doesn’t notice her panic. “Are you expecting company? I can totally leave if you have other plans.” 

If she had been paying closer attention, Emma would have noticed the blush painting it’s way across Max’s cheeks before he answered. “I didn’t know what you’d want for breakfast so I kind of made everything I had in the kitchen.” 

Something unfamiliar twists in Emma’s stomach at the way Max is looking at her, like she’s delicate and worth his attention. It was wholly unfamiliar and a bit unsettling. 

“You…” She murmurs, her dove-gray eyes darting between Max’s and the spread of food apparently meant just for her. “You made this all for me?” 

Max looks at Emma like he’s surprised at her reaction. “I figured you might be hungry after everything that happened last night. I didn’t know if you had eaten dinner and didn’t ask last night so I just took a gamble and made everything that resembled breakfast food.” 

Emma’s hand rubs absentmindedly at the ache that had settled in her chest at his words. “Thank you, Max.” She repeats. “For last night and for all of this. You didn’t have to do all of this just for me.” She says, voice thick with anxiety that she’s embarrassed has taken hold behind her ribcage. 

Max’s smile softens a bit as he watched Emma take a bite of bacon. “You don’t have to thank me, I was just doing my brotherly white knight duties, rescuing a damsel in distress.” 

Brotherly duties. Right. Emma struggled to keep the disappointment from reaching her eyes at his words. Max hadn’t done this for her, it had solely been for Victoria. 

Max watches Emma carefully from where he sits across from her at his kitchen table. She looks tired, like she spent a majority of her night tossing and turning and not resting. His heart aches when he thinks about how she had looked at him last night when he got out of the car, like she was shocked he had come for her and afraid that he wasn’t real. 

When he had walked past the door to his guest room this morning he had paused for just a moment, telling himself he was only trying to see if she was awake and moving around behind the closed door. He wanted to make sure she felt comfortable here, knowing that the last few weeks spent with that family had probably not been the easiest of environments. He listened to the silence for a few moments before moving on, determined to be close enough so that Emma didn’t panic when she woke up but far enough away from her to give her the space she probably needed. 

“Not that I’m trying to rush you because you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you want.” Max begins after a few moments of comfortable silence. “But, is there anything I can do to help with what you want to do next?” 

Emma simply blinked at him, forkful of pancakes frozen halfway to her mouth in surprise. If she hadn’t looked so startled, Max would have laughed at her reaction to his question. “Oh. I…I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Max shrugs, “That’s okay. I’m sure last night was a lot. I assume you want to head back home then? I can arrange to get your suitcases shipped back to your parents house for you?” 

Emma startles so violently she drops her fork, the clattering noise of metal against porcelain ringing harshly through the apartment. The anxiety and downright fear that flashes across her pretty features has Max sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. That was clearly not the right thing to suggest. 

“Or…” He starts, seeing the way her breathing quickens at his question. “You can stay here for a while if you’d like. There’s no rush to make any decisions right now but maybe you should call Vic and let her know you’re okay?” 

Clearly alerting her parents to her situation was out of the question, judging by her reaction to his suggestion so Max retreats to what, and who, he knows is safe. He watches as she pulls herself back together right in front of his eyes. It’s a stunning thing to watch, Emma piecing herself back together, shoving the anxiety and fear down somewhere deep below the surface. 

In a matter of seconds, Emma has composed herself again, her delicate features schooled into a careful mask of neutrality. “I texted her last night but you’re right. I think Hailey should be down for her morning nap by now and I know the boys go to nursery school on Tuesdays.” 

Max nods, watching as Emma stands from the table before taking her phone out into the living room to call his sister. The reaction to his suggestion of her going home pulls at Max for some reason. The way she had nearly shattered her plate with how hard she had dropped her fork was an interesting response. She hadn’t offered up why that was not an option but seemed relieved when Max didn’t push. 

He hadn’t spent much, if any, time with Emma and her parents but he remembered Emma always being over whenever he was home on a break from racing. She always seemed to be with Victoria on the weekends and in the evenings during the week. It hadn’t even crossed his mind as unusual when he was growing up but now? Seeing her nearly slip into a panic attack at the mere thought of going back home to The Netherlands had alarm bells ringing in his head. 

Max wasn’t going to push the issue though. He could sense that she didn’t want to open up about it but that was okay. If she didn’t want to go back, that was fine with him too. He had a feeling going home to Maaseik wasn’t any more of an option for Emma than staying with that family she had been working for until last night. 

And Max would be dammed if he was going to send her back into another bad situation directly after saving her from one just a few hours prior.  

as always, thank you to the best beta reader BFF who is always willing to entertain my ‘OKAY BUT WHAT IF’ messages at 2am @lestapiastrisgirl ❤️

tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @xoxomansee

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 3 | l.n

summary: house parties in college? truly, what can go wrong?

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, sexual themes mentioned (stamina), a lot of banter, lando's playboy vibe is back and in full swing! and who're oscar and lily secretly seeing?

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

“so the answer for number four would be fifty-six,” you said, pointing to the formula on the lined sheet of notebook paper. you had been helping lando with his econ homework since you got out of your last class of the day, meeting up at the cafe on the other side of campus. 

you looked up to see that he wasn’t paying attention, his face buried in his phone as he smiled, fingers moving a mile a minute as he texted. you huffed, rolling your eyes before reaching across the table and snatching the phone into your hands, locking it and tossing it onto the table next to yours.

“hey!” 

“you asked for my help and you’re not even paying attention,” you said, “did you even hear what i said?”

“sorry, but this is important,” he said, “the guys are throwing a party tonight and we’re going over the checklist for all the supplies.”

“which entails what, exactly? booze and bitches?”

“no!” he scoffed, sending him a pointed look as he sighed, “well, we don’t call them ‘bitches’.”

“lando, this is serious!”

“so is this!” he said before taking in your very clearly annoyed facial expression, “okay, okay, fine. all my undivided attention is going to you now, i promise. im sorry.”

you took in a breath before walking him through the problem again. he nodded in understanding, asking questions about certain things but shortly getting the hang of it once you talked in through it. he had made a decent amount of progress in the short 4 weeks you had been holding up on the deal the two of you made. your painting was slowly coming along and he was on track to passing his econ final with flying colors.

maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

his phone buzzed next to you, which you ignored as you continued explaining the next chapter to him. the buzzes got more consistent, making it impossible to ignore as you tried to help him study. 

okay, last statement retracted. 

finally you sighed in defeat, pushing his phone towards him, “we’ll cover more on monday,” you said, “i think whatever is going on requires your attention a little more.”

he sent you an apologetic look as he opened his phone, “oh, no way! jackson got some of the girls from the cheer squad to come!”

you nodded, packing your things into your bag, “sounds like a good time,”

“you should come,” he said, “you can bring lily, too. ‘s gonna be fun,”

“hard pass,” you sent him a tight lipped smile, “a bunch of college guys, cheer women and booze in the same room? absolutely not.”

“there’s gonna be other people there,” he contested, “i’m pretty sure oscar’s going, that is if he can get the balls to ask the girl he’s been non-stop talking about to come with him.” 

oscar and a girl? this was the first you were hearing about this. definitely something to take mental note of and pester him about later. 

“lando-” 

“just say you’ll think about it, yeah?” 

you huffed, grabbing your coffee cup from the table as he stood from his chair, “fine, i’ll think about it. no promises, and it’s for sure looking like a 99.9% no and a .1% chance of a yes.”

he shook his head as he followed you out of the cafe, holding the door open for you as you made your way back outside into the harsh winter weather, cold wind hitting like a smack in the face. he had made it a habit to walk you back to your apartment if you were studying somewhere that wasn't yours. 

you bid him a short goodbye and thanked him for walking you back before heading inside and up to your floor. you opened the front door, lily immediately calling to you from her side of the apartment.

“hey!”

“hey!” you called back, throwing your things by the front door, making your way to her bedroom. she sat at her desk, mascara in hand as she studied her appearance in the light up mirror. you fell back onto her bed as she raised her eyebrows at you.

“that bad, huh?”

you hummed, sitting up on your forearms, “that’s the thing, it’s not bad,” you sighed, “i hate to admit it, but i think he’s growing on me a little bit.”

she wiggled her eyebrows at you as you groaned, “gross, not like that!”

“i’m kidding!” she laughed, “who knows though, maybe all that deep hatred you two have for god knows what reason will lead to really hot sex!”

“please, shut up!” you let out an even louder groan, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“i’m just saying!” she laughed, putting her hands up in fake surrender, “i mean, c’mon! do you know how many girls would kill to be in your situation right now? he’s hot, single, and it’s not like i don’t see the way he looks at you. he definitely is feeling something he doesn’t want to show just yet,”

“never in my life will i ever hook up with lando norris,” you said sternly, “even if he was the last human on planet earth.”

“whatever you say,” she said, placing her makeup back in the bag, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

“well, i was gonna ask if you wanted to get wine drunk and have a shitty rom-com movie marathon, but clearly you’ve got other plans.”

“i do,” she smiled, “you know that guy in my chem class i’ve been kind of talking to?” when you nodded, she continued, “he invited me out to a party one of his friend’s his having. told me i could bring someone,”

“what is with people and parties tonight?”

she shrugged, “could be because it’s almost the end of the semester, dunno.”

you shrugged back at her, “you’re going?”

she nodded, giving you her signature pleading look. the one that had always worked in the past and you knew was always going to work in the future. 

“please come with me,” she asked, “it would be a lot more fun with you there.”

“i don’t know, lils-”

“look at it this way, if you go and you find a hot guy, he’ll take your mind off of all the lando bullshit,” she said, “plus, we won’t get to go out next year, we need to make the most of it this year while we still can.”

you hated how good she was at convincing you to do something. she was the master at things like this. 

you sighed, “okay, fine!”

she smiled and cheered in her chair, the two of you rushing off to your side of the apartment to pick out an outfit for you. you opted on the simple black dress, slipping it on and fixing up your makeup before running a hand through your hair.

simple, but effective. you looked and felt hot. maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. after letting her snap a few mirror pictures of the two of you, you were out the door and heading to the house where the party was. 

the walk to the off campus housing was longer than expected and the chilly nighttime air made the two of you walk a little bit quicker. as you neared the house, you could hear the music from outside the house. 

lily practically dragged you inside, the air thick and humid from the amount  of people jammed into the house. there were people everywhere, drinks in hand and dancing together. the cliche couples making out against the walls, and obviously it wouldn’t be complete without the beer pong table set up in the middle of the dining room. the scene looked like it was straight out of a teenage coming of movie. 

“i’m gonna go get a drink, you coming?”

you nodded at the light haired girl, following her into the kitchen. you grabbed a cup, letting her pour some of the vodka into your cup before you topped it off with whatever kind of juice was on the counter. you took a sip, taking the opportunity to actually take a look at the people around you. 

you spotted a blonde in a cheer squad uniform, clearly arriving just after practice. the conversation you had with lando re-entering your mind as you looked around the house. 

lily looked down at her phone before smiling softly at you, “chem guy is here, i’m gonna go find him. are you gonna be okay?”

you nodded, smiling softly, “yeah, yeah! go ahead! have fun,”

she smiled, “i’ll text you!”

“don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!”

she laughed, exiting the crowd of people who had found themselves in the kitchen. you heard cheering coming from the dining room, pushing through to see what the commotion was about. you looked past the bodies and found lando with his hands up in the air, beer in hand as he celebrated beating the other team in the game of beer pong.

“no fuckin’ way, mate! how’d you manage a comeback like that?’

“the master never tells his secrets,” he smiled, giving the guy who was on his team a handshake before he felt your eyes on him. he smiled when his eyes met yours, whispering something in the blonde’s ear before he started making his way towards you. 

“looks like that .1% managed to overpower tonight, huh?”

“lily asked me to come,” you spoke loudly over the music, “the guy she’s been talking to is here.”

he nodded, smirking, “you can tell me you came for me, i won’t tease you about it.”

you rolled your eyes, cocking your head to the side, “does your ego ever get tired?”

“stamina,” he smiled, “which i happen to have a lot of.”

“gross,” you scrunched your nose up, “didn’t want a visual.”

he took in your appearance, coming to the conclusion that you looked good in just about anything. he swore you could pull off a trash bag if you really wanted to.

“i like this,” he said, pointing to your dress, “suits you.”

you smiled softly, he looked good too. a little too good for your liking. his curls were wild, slowly growing a little bit longer and he was wearing a white button up t-shirt matched with a pair of black pants. 

one thing you couldn’t say was that he wasn’t attractive. sure, you had known this before, but especially right now. the top few buttons of his shirt undone, a silver chain hanging from his neck. the way his tanned skin looked under the dim lighting, the flashy watch sitting on his wrist. 

god, stop it. you’re not supposed to find him hot. you’re supposed to hate him.

 “not too bad yourself, norris.”

why’re you feeding into it? stop it. 

“can i let you in on a secret?” 

you held your breath as he leaned in closer after you softly shook your head. his expensive cologne filling your nose as he spoke lowly into your ear.

“i was really hoping you’d show up.”

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Keep Your Eyes on Me

tara carpenter x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: You’ve quickly become close with all of Tara’s friends, but her trust issues keep her at a distance from you. But maybe you're able to chip away at her defenses...

word count: 2.2k

————

"I don't get why no one else is suspicious of her!" Tara exclaims looking around at everyone with a frustrated expression. "Mindy? You're literally suspicious of every living thing. And Sam what the fuck, you don't let me leave the house unless I'm carrying a cross bow or something," she exaggerates rolling her eyes.

"Why are we speaking about me like I'm not here?" You whisper to Chad next to you while ripping your string cheese into strands. He laughs but so does everyone else, seems like your whisper wasn't as quiet as you thought.

Tara groans frustrated and heads up the stairs, leaving her friends and you in the living room in an awkward silence.

Sam was the first to break it, "She'll come around, it's just been hard on her you know? Trusting new people and all that fun stuff."

You give her a nod completely understanding the root of Tara's issues with you, it wasn't personal but that didn't mean her distrust in you didn't sting. Especially considering it's been four months since you met the group.

"I am curious though," you speak, "She's not wrong Mindy, you're sus of everyone. And Sam why do you trust me too?"

"Well you met my brother playing pickle ball," the twin speaks. "Pickle ball doesn't really strike me as a psychopathic killer activity," she laughs.

"Neither does string cheese. Can you imagine Ghostface stringing their cheese and eating it?" Sam adds with a laugh.

You don't know whether to be relieved or offended that your habits don't indicate you to be a killer. But you're grateful that the rest of the group clicked with you quickly after Chad introduced you to them.

The core four minus Tara sometimes wanted to smack the girl across the head for being so oblivious and blind to you. Before you met the group Chad being the yapper that he is, explained all that happened in the past year and a half, so you were fairly well equipped with knowledge on how to navigate a friendship with everyone.

Everyone also noticed how attentive you were to Tara especially.  You didn't know what it was but you immediately developed a soft spot for the girl when Chad told you all she went through. Meeting her for the first time you instinctively felt the need to protect her but that's been quite hard with her negative feelings towards you, but that doesn't mean you don't try.

————

Sam eventually goes up to Tara's room once everyone leaves and decides to put an end to this.  The younger Carpenter looks at her sister from her bed when the door is opened at a speed where its hinges could fly off.

"Jesus Sam, why are we trying to break my door."

"What the hell are you doing Tara?" Sam gets to the point ignoring the question.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/n."

"Ughhhhhh!" She turns around face planting into her pillow with a groan, hating the topic of you.

"It's been four months and you haven't once given the poor girl the benefit of the doubt." The sister says softly. "I don't know why you're so keen on hating her, it's like you want her to be Ghostface just so you can prove a point."

Tara turns around to respond, clearly annoyed.  "Because it's so clear she doesn't have good intentions!  I don't get you either sis, you want me to be cautious of people, but it's a problem when its Y/n?"

Sam sighs moving to sit on the foot of the bed, "Tara, do you not see how much that girl cares about you?"

Tara is silent and looks down at her fiddling hands not knowing what to say.  She does know how much you care and she hates it.

All those times you would come over to her place with the excuse of "Mindy sent me to grab something" but you always stayed until Sam got home from work, just so she wouldn't have to be alone.

"Clearly you do realize how much she cares for you," Sam says taking notice of her sister's silence and demeanor.

Tara turns red recalling how you would always be attentive to the leg that Ghostface broke a year ago.  You would always position yourself so she'd have access to the railing of a staircase. Offer to drive her places that may have seemed like too lengthy of a walk. Straggle behind the group when you realized she couldn't walk as fast as the others. And even deprive yourself of any physical activities that the group was participating in, so Tara wouldn't feel alone when she sat out.

"The damn girl literally sits in the kitchen whenever your hungry ass wants to cook something so you'd feel safer!" Sam suddenly says. "Even I hadn't thought about how being in the kitchen may give you PTSD."

Tara hadn't either. But now that she knew the reason why you'd sit with her in the kitchen, she realized that she did feel much more comfortable with you in there then the times you weren't. After all she did have her attack take place in the kitchen. The brown eyed girl shrunk into her sweater in shame as she recalled how poorly she treated you that day.

You leave the group who were playing an intense round of charades in the living room and decide to join Tara who was alone in the kitchen.

"Hey what are you making?" You smile.

She ignores you and continues to get the seasoning out for the mac and cheese she was making herself.

"Why aren't you playing with everyone else?" Tara suddenly spoke.

"Just wanted to see what you were up to."

"Well you can leave now," she rolls her eyes.

"I'm good, I'll stay here."

"You do know that you aren't winning any points with me by trying to talk to me and forcing proximity right?" Tara says with attitude. "I still don't trust you and if your goal isn't to kill me, but just to get in my pants, then I'm so sorry if I ever made you believe that you had a chance with me." she finishes sarcastically feigning a genuine apology.

"Not my goal," you reply keeping it short. You knew the girl would not receive anything you say, so you got up from the seat you initially took at the island in the kitchen and went to the dining table which was a little further away. Tara thought that you left since she didn't hear any comments from you anymore and her pride was too high for her to turn around and check if you were still there. She couldn't control the frown that was making its way onto her face. That was until she heard you scrolling through TikToks at the table and suddenly felt a sense of relief that couldn't be explained.

She would continue to finish her mac and cheese and tried to hide her laugh from any funny TikTok sounds she heard from your phone. And tried her hardest to shutdown her curiosity whenever she heard your laugh. As soon as she finished making her bowl, she walked out of the kitchen not even glancing at you. She was too stubborn to realize that she hadn't once thought about her attack due to your presence in the kitchen.

Until now.

"That's why I trust her Tara," Sam reveals. "She notices things that I don't. I can't always be watching out for you. You need to have a bunch who have your back, and for that to happen you need to take a chance on people here and there."

"Just think about it. Just separate your idea of Y/n being Ghostface and the possibility that she can betray you. And ask yourself what kind of person is left standing in front you. And is that the type of person you want to take a chance on."

————

Two weeks have gone by since the group last saw each other, and since then you and Tara were able to do a lot of individual thinking. Today the group decided that they went too long without seeing each other and they all decided to go to bar in downtown Manhattan.

Everyone decided to meet at the Carpenter residence, and Tara hated to admit it, but she was excited to see you, but she also felt nervous at the thought of being around you.

You were the last to arrive, and you greeted all your friends with a smile. Tara was waiting with a smile for you to greet her like you always do, but it never happened.

You ignored her.

"Is everyone ready to go?" You say looking at everyone except Tara.

The shorter girl had to compose herself before anyone realized that she was bothered by your lack of acknowledgement. She didn't know how to feel, what in the world were you doing?

The group made their way to the subway in one piece, and the two Carpenter sisters were walking side by side while everyone else was a little ahead.

"What the fuck is Y/n doing?" Tara whisper yells to her sister.

"What do you mean?" Sam replies playing stupid.

"She's not even looking at me?" Tara admits, not caring at how childish she sounds. "Why isn't she paying attention to me?"

Sam laughs at what two weeks of not seeing you and some deep reflection has done to her sister. "I mean what do you expect, it's not fair for her to keep trying for someone who doesn't make the same effort. She's probably done trying." Despite her words, Sam didn't believe a thing she was saying, she wondered what the intentions behind your actions were, but the Carpenter knew it was nothing ill.

Tara makes a hmpf sound, and tries to act unbothered by her sister's words. But the idea of you not having your gaze on her worries her more than she would like to admit.

Meanwhile 20 paces in front the sisters you and the twins are having a interesting conversation of your own.

"I can't do this anymore!" You whine looking at Mindy.

"Girl, stand the fuck up, it's been 20 minutes since we left the house, can't you see that it's already working?"

Chad chimes in, "Honestly I agree with my sister for once, she'll be yours by the end of today."

"W-whoa I don't want her to be mine or anything," you blush. "She's gone through a lot, I just need her to tolerate me, you know?"

Mindy rolls her eyes but smiles, happy that Tara has someone patient like you in her life. "Yeah yeah Y/l/n, now walk faster, it's not like she can run and catch up."

Your jaw drops while Chad drops dead in laughter.

Everyone manages to get onto the same subway cart in one piece, and you realized how much harder it was going to be acting like you can't notice Tara in here. The subway was packed from one end to the other. And you just so happened to be standing next to the only available seat.

You glance at Tara only to see her already looking at you and you immediately look away. Trying to get Mindy's attention you some how try your best to mime to her that you want Tara to sit in the free seat. Though of course Mindy's horrible charade skills translate into real life and she ends up sitting in the seat herself.

You face palm at your friend, and gave up on trying to look out for Tara. But in that very moment you notice a man getting far too close to the girl than you would like. It was a crowded cart so proximity was a given, but this seemed deliberate on the stranger's part.

Acting without thinking, you shove the guy as casually as you can to the side, not realizing that it meant you are now face to face with Tara. Just as you were about to break and speak to her, the subway doors open at your stop.

Tara hated that the doors interrupted the words you were going to say to her, but was grateful that it got her attention off of you before you could notice the blush on her cheeks.

As everyone got off the subway, you find yourself straggling behind the group out of habit. Just as you attempt to quicken your pace, you feel a tug on your sleeve.

Tara looks up at you with her big eyes, and you don't know what to do. This is the first time the girl has looked at you without rolling her eyes or looking away immediately.

"I'm sorry," she mutters.

You didn't know what to say, and continue walking with her by your side, so you don't fall too far behind from your friends. "It's okay," you mutter back looking straight ahead. 

You don't blame the girl for her behaviours.  Her traumas manifested into something difficult and she was making an attempt to be better. That's all that mattered to you. And maybe you were just too weak for the girl that you would let anything slide, but you were fine with that too. 

Tara smiles at you, happy that you weren't giving her a hard time. Happy that you understood what those two words she just told you encapsulates.

Suddenly she grabs you by your arm and holds it as you walk side by side.

Startled by her touch you look at her.

She smiles up at you, "It's easier for you to keep your eyes on me this way. No need for secret glances."

next chapter

[mechsangel]

comp sci , ft. suna

silly thoughts i have abt comp sci suna nd art major reader. smau abt this

— the meeting

it starts with a very unfortunate event. you, running late to your figure drawing class, barrel down the hallway—only to crash into suna rintarō, sending his laptop flying.

it lands with a thud, his headphones tangle around his wrist, and you're horrified to see a small crack on his screen.

“you're paying for that,” he deadpans.

you panic. “i–uh–what if i compensate you with art?”

he raises an eyebrow. “you think a drawing of me is worth a macbook repair?”

“um. maybe?”

that's how it begins—suna, reluctantly accepting a portrait in exchange for a slightly cracked screen, and you, unknowingly drawing your way into his life.

— late night dates

suna doesn't get art. he doesn't understand why you have to spend hours mixing paint for the ‘perfect shade of blue’. you don't get coding. you don't understand why he stares at black screens with neon text for hours, only to say, “it's broken. i hate everything.”

but you both try.

he sits in your studio, pretending to be interested as you explain color theory. you bring him coffee during his all-nighters and listen as he rants about debugging.

one night, as you sketch in his dorm while he codes, he glances at your notebook.

“are you drawing me again?”

you grin. “you're my muse, duh.”

he groans, but you catch the small smile he tries to hide.

— he leaves cryptic code comments about you <3

suna has a habit of writing stupid comments in his code when he's tired, but when you check his screen, you notice things like:

// y/n is annoying but also cute

// reminder to buy them more art supplies

// if (y/n == mad) { apologize(); buy_snacks(); }

when you point it out, he immediately minimizes the window and acts like it never happened.

— the gallery opening

you invite him to your first big showcase. suna, despite acting nonchalant, actually shows up early. he's dressed nicer than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits for you to notice him.

when you finally do, he tugs at your sleeve.

“you painted me?”

you nod, suddenly shy. “you're my favorite subject.”

suna doesn't say anything. instead, he pulls you into a hug—tight, warm, and lingering.

“okay, fine,” he murmurs into your hair. “i guess i kinda like being your muse.”

[muniimyg]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . pov!jk . ۫ ꣑ৎ . — [ 1 . ] more

series m.list // taglist unavailable

friends to ???

slight angst & implied flirting

drunk/tipsy convo, hair play, and tension

note: nope . don't wanna hear it >< don't give me shit abt bad habit ,, i will apologize tho for edging u and then dipping to literally pursue my side quests ,,, i needed a break :') huhuhuuuu

//

by 2am, you’re officially the only sober person in the house.

it’s not yours—it belongs to jungkook and the rest of the boys—but somehow, you still find yourself in the middle of it, tugging open windows, waving off lingering stragglers, and listening to misa’s slurred complaints about how no one ever listens to her.

“you’re a lifesaver,” she groans, dramatically clinging to your arm. “i texted you like—like ten times.”

“you texted ‘hepl’ and then sent your location.”

“and you understood.” she gestures around like that explains everything. “take me home, please.”

“nope," you cross your arms. "you’re sleeping here tonight.”

she nods, accepting her fate. “are you sleeping here tonight too? it's too late for you to leave.”

“i have no choice,” you laugh. “i don’t have enough energy to take care of my roommate any more than i have now.”

misa scoffs at you and waves you off.

she stumbles away, headed towards jin’s room. you shake your head, knowing how this will play in the morning. jin is gonna get annoyed that she’s in his space but she’ll ignore every word of his lecture. he’ll forgive her 5 minutes after he’s done yapping and go back to being obsessed with her. 

suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted with the sound of the door from the other room shutting. you turn your head and see jungkook walking in. 

he’s quiet, gathering empty cups and bottles, and moving with the kind of focus that suggests he’s not as drunk as the others. jungkook barely acknowledges you at first, just a glance when you walked in, but now, as he passes by, he pauses.

“nice of you to show up,” he muses, stacking a few cups. his rings glint under the dim kitchen light, a stark contrast to the bruised-up knuckles beneath them. “missed a fun night.”

you huff a quiet laugh, brushing past him to grab a half-full beer bottle from the counter. 

“are you drunk?”

“i’m jungkook, actually,” he offers you a lazy smile. “just in case you forgot, you know? you’ve been so mia.” 

“i’ve been busy.”

“always are,” he tsks. “would a little time with your friends kill you?"

"maybe," you snort. "i'm too young to die."

he rolls his eyes at you before confessing; "i've sobered up.”

“really?” you ask, partly believing him. "didn't drink much tonight?"

"nah," jungkook answers. "waited for you and you took too long."

you blink at him.

jungkook looks at you then, and it’s the kind of look that stretches a second too long—like he’s waiting for you to call him out. when you just shake your head and laugh, he grins, full and boyish, before nudging past you toward the trash bag.

a few more minutes of quiet cleaning and you give up, collapsing onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. meanwhile, jungkook finishes tossing the last of the cups and then, without much thought, drops onto the couch next to you.

not next to you—into you.

his shoulder bumps yours, his head tipping back against the cushion, body slouching so low that his knee brushes against yours. you glance at him, unimpressed, but he just tilts his head lazily to meet your gaze.

“comfy?”

“mm.” he exhales, lids heavy. “i think i earned it.”

“you did, like, 5 minutes of cleaning.”

“exactly.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. the warmth of him seeps into your skin, grounding in a way that feels too easy.

“don’t you wanna go to your room?” you ask softly. “i’m fine on the couch.” 

“i’m good here,” he murmurs. “unless you want me to—”

“it’s fine. it's okay.”

“this is okay?”

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, unsure of what else to say.

then, jungkook shifts lower.

at first, it’s subtle—his arm brushing yours, the scent of his cologne clinging to the hoodie he’s been in all night. then, without hesitation, he slouches further until his head drops against your lap.

just like that.

your breath catches.

“since you’re already at it,” he murmurs, half-asleep, like this is normal.

like this is allowed.

you freeze, eyes darting down to where his lashes have fluttered shut, his face soft in the low light. his hair falls into his eyes, messy from the night, and before you can stop yourself—before you can even think—your fingers twitch.

you brush them through his hair, gentle, testing.

jungkook sighs.

 a quiet, content sound.

and then he leans in.

his cheek presses further into your thigh, his hand curling loosely against your knee, and it’s so effortless—like he’s done this before. like he’s wanted to.

the weight of it lingers, heavy with something unspoken, something delicate and warm. you should stop, should pull away, should get him to his room and pretend like this isn’t happening… but then, his fingers twitch—just slightly, barely gripping the fabric of your sweatpants. and in a voice so quiet you almost miss it—

“more.”

the word sinks into you, settling in your chest.

because it’s not just about this. not just about the hair, or the warmth of your palm against his skin.

it’s about something else. something neither of you have been brave enough to name for the past few months. 

so, for a moment, you keep going. you shut your eyes and pretend that this is it. 

that this is more.