#fireworks!sh

[kiteran]

credit IG Kat McNamara

[tortoisebore]

it’s starting. already. the fuckifnf fireworks.

[ribelleribelle]

happy new year bastards (affectionate)

[catphobicc]

2022

[iruludavare]

          ↗          Still carries around the intriguing stone that Tierno gave to her like it is one of the most precious items in the world. Does she care that some hiker believes it is nothing more than an ordinary rock? No. Tierno gave it to her as a gift; to try and help her out with researching Mega Evolution. And when he cannot make it to her performances, it is a nice reminder of his support tucked away in her bag— how Serena would not be where she is now without the push this dear friend gave her.

[ilseofskadi]

another day thinking about how many civilians have ptsd and can never truly enjoy fireworks anymore

[izzymalec]

the netherlands winning the euros would be so fucking funny actually

[snuggles-and-struggles]

So that lore.

If I do ever get around to writing more for these boys, what I'm thinking is that monsters had still been underground, but surfaced earlier than usual, around the time Edge and Stretch would've been like, 7-10 ish.

The transition up top took some time, what with there being multiple different ones over the span of a few years, and as the monster sanctioned areas grew, became sort of segmented by universe. This brought its own difficulties with it, as some monsters, mostly those from "Fell" type undergrounds, had harder times adjusting to surface life.

Edge and Stretch met very early on, shortly after surfacing and before the "divisions" got too bad. Edge and Red had already lost their father and were semi accustomed to looking after themselves, but Stretch and Blue's father, while not the most outwardly compassionate, did try to keep an eye on them and help them out in ways Red would let him.

Unfortunately, it wasn't too long after that Swapster got sick and declined pretty quickly. Stretch and Edge were tween/young teenagers when he finally succumbed, but as things had simultaneously been growing more strained between the 'verses, circumstance pushed them apart a bit. They still tried to hang out when they could, and Blue and Red certainly had more than one argument over the two just coming to stay with them (despite barely being able to keep their own heads above water), but distance grew between them over the teen years.

Until Red got sick.

The same illness that claimed Swapster, during one of their rare actual opportunities to spend time together, Edge told Stretch. He'd been doing any work he could get (and Stretch resolutely never asked about the few LV he'd gained over the years), but it just wasn't enough, and Red's condition was only getting worse.

On the brink of graduating or possibly in a gap year, Stretch completely changed his career choice, going into medical science in order to aid in finding treatment for the disease. And with tensions finally eased into a sort of normalcy and Blue having long since secured a decent job, the Fell boys moved in with the Swaps for a little while.

Once Edge had secured himself better work, and using what little savings Red had accumulated before falling ill, they manage to move out after a few years, and make their own way. Red is a trial patient, by Stretch's recommendation, and is currently receiving experimental treatment that hasn't entirely helped in recovery, but slowed its progression significantly, which is really saying something considering how serious the condition is.

Edge and Stretch, of course, have unresolved feelings for each other, Stretch had probably been in love with Edge almost the whole time, but Edge likely only developed more romantic feelings once older, probably during the brief time they lived together. They both care about each other deeply, but tend to dance around heavier subjects and their own personal problems which keeps that little bit of space there even when they'd honestly both be so much better off if they just talked ough

But! They're actually pretty similar to my young code blue boys, but with waaay less angst along the way lol I'd love to write more with them, maybe some of the earlier days like a time Edge snuck in to Stretch's room really late as teens, or maybe them moving in together in the not so distant future (or maybe slightly distant, Edge probably wouldn't until Red didn't need him looking after him anymore).

They're very cute and sweet and I'm kissing them both on their stupid little foreheads. (Also feel the need to clarify that while Edge does have LV, it's not anywhere near as much as standard for when he’s in the guard and everything, like, maybe he’s at abt 4? More than 2 but definitely not more than 6)

[endlessthxxghts]

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too. W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵‍💫) 18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking. Pics for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵‍💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this… ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise. 

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face. 

Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”

His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently. 

Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear. 

Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”

“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud. 

Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”

Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?” 

An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”

Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal. 

Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie. 

Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be. 

With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop. 

He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes. 

He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-” 

His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure. 

He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste. 

Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face. 

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble. 

“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous. 

“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?” 

Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.” 

End note: LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH

[disneyprincemuke]

5 times * mv1

there are five times max almost caught himself saying he loves you, and then there's the time that he finally let you know

pairings: max verstappen x horner's niece!reader

warnings: i... don't know?

notes: yes, i'm making a comeback because i've gotten back into the mood of writing (i'm single) and because f1 has got me screaming, crying and throwing up. also, this took me 3 days to write, and i have grown attached. lmk if you guys want the counterpart (basically the same concept, but it's from your eyes???)

one.

"fucking," max cuts himself off, grabbing the closest thing to him. lucky for him, and his team, it's just his racing gloves, "bitch!"

it's just so infuriating to be so close to that podium. he crashed with 5 laps left of the race. his left rear decided to fail him stupidly near the end, after he'd poured his heart and soul to get on that podium. but here he is, moping in his driver's room.

after constantly being in the scrutiny of the public, especially with the way he handled losing, he'd resided here immediately. there's a bubbling anger rising up from him. he's so infuriated.

until a soft knock lands on his door. snapping him out of his thoughts, he knew what he wanted this time. "please leave me alone."

"okay. but christian just wants to know if you're alright." your voice sounds small. he could barely hear you with the door in the way.

he takes a deep breath, then walks over to the door. it reveals you with a hesitant smile on your face.

but he's always had a soft spot for you. all of the anger he'd been feeling merely 5 seconds ago dissipated. "oh. you're not in my room at the circuit often."

"i know. i'm sorry to intrude." you look down at the ground, your often confident self absolutely nowhere to be seen. "christian sent me to check in on you. i'll leave you alone, but i can't go back without an answer."

for starters, you're not a stranger to the signature max verstappen temper. but never has he directed it at you once. it's surely raised the eyebrows of christian horner the first time it happened when you joined the team.

one second he was all over the garage, only rude words coming out of his mouth. the next, he was silently raging as he sat on the tire of his car while you discussed dinner plans with your uncle.

"please, don't worry about it." he takes a step back, gesturing for you to enter the room. you do just that, although a bit hesitant. and he doesn't blame you for that. "come in."

there's a moment of silence between you two. for a moment, the engines from the cars outside start to die down, and the frequency of the fireworks is slowing down, and there are more footsteps in the gravel that surround the trailer.

"i'm okay." he leans on the massage table in the middle of the room. he still hasn't changed out of his race suit. his helmet, balaclava and gloves are all thrown in different directions of the room. they had all been victims of his uncontrollable rage.

it's apparent that he's not even close to being okay. he just has to bank on the fact that you don't probe with more questions.

"it's okay if you're not," you answer in a gentle tone. a soft audible sigh passes your lips as you sit on the couch in the opposite side of the small room. "it's just you and me. i'm not part of your racing team."

his eyes do the speaking again. the heaving of his chest is enough to tell you that he's actually contemplating it. without another moment's hesitation, he starts to go at it. all of the emotions he's been feeling lately, the frustration from just being 5 laps shy of being on that podium.

he's just ranting, throwing his hands in the air while he paces all over the room. he makes a mental note to find a way to make it up to you after this - you're just sitting there patiently, nodding your head empathetically while he talks.

it’s as if you knew and understood all that he’s talking about.

"it's just unfair! i did everything right this time!" he exclaims, hands clenched up into a fist. "i should have been up there! i deserved to be on that podium!"

there's one more thing that bothers him. you. whatever he feels for you. the way his heart races whenever you're around, or the way he's always thinking of the way you fix his hair for marketing promotion material - he can't get you out of his mind. for years, now.

he'd met you when he was 18, fresh into red bull racing as christian's new prodigy. he had only seen you a total of 15 times within the span of 3 and a half years. the transition from crumbs of your presence to full-out spending the whole racing season with you was more than his heart could handle.

now that he's gotten to know you better, the 22-year-old is almost convinced that he might actually have feelings for you. "and-"

he looks up from the ground, flinching back slightly when you're staring directly into his eyes from across the room. your eyes dart down to his hands and it's only then he notices how his hands are clenched into fists next to him.

he almost slipped up about his feelings for you. good thing he caught himself at the last second. his chest heaves as he looks at you, shoulders tensed up and eyebrows furrowed.

you raise an eyebrow, slowly nodding. you make a gesture with your hand to encourage him to continue saying whatever is on his mind. "and?"

"and," i have feelings for you, "it's just so unfair."

he feels his body melt at your stare. his shoulders slump, his breathing starts to regulate and his hands slowly unravel from a fist. it's just so unfair that he's so hopelessly smitten with his principal's niece.

"i know." you push yourself off the couch and walk over to him. stopping just a few steps from him, he looks at you sigh. "i'm sorry that it happened to you, max."

then a small grin slowly stretches his lips. the race is over - there is absolutely nothing he can do to change the result. he shrugs, "it's just racing."

"you can still feel angry about it," you grin, "it's just me."

max shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "i know. it's okay; i'm okay."

you drop your head slightly. max knows you don't buy his lie. of course, he's still angry about what happened. but there is still some truth to what he said - he got unlucky today with the car.

you take a deep breath. he's caught completely by surprise when your arms spread out, taking a step forward and engulfing him in the warmest hug.

he catches a whiff of all your scents - your shampoo, your perfume, and creepily enough, the soap you use for your clothes. and he completely basks in your embrace, his arms wrapping themselves around your smaller frame. his neck rests on your shoulder, silently straining his back just to take you in.

"i know you're not," you whisper. you lean your head into his as you rub circles on his clothed back. "i'm here for you, okay?"

and he wants to say it to you. he gets an inkling, after you just spent the better part of 20 minutes letting him scream about his feelings, that this is bigger than himself.

"i," he trails off, arms tightening around you. he closes his eyes, repeatedly reminding himself that he's not willing to risk it. he releases the breath he's been holding. "thank you."

two.

max can barely keep himself upright in the seat. he's clutching onto his balaclava, eyes following the light shone into his eyes as per the doctor's request.

he had a bad crash with lewis during the race that sent him flying into the walls. he blacked out for a couple of seconds, and he's been in pain since they escorted him to the medical centre.

there's a soft knock on the door, before he hears the creak followed by footsteps. "i'll be back with results, okay?" the doctor straightens up before walking away from him. he acknowledges the presence of someone new, then proceeded to walk out of the room.

the relief max immediately felt when he sees you standing shyly by the door, hands clasped together.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, slowly making your way over to him. "i came as soon as i heard what happened to you. that was horrible, what happened to you."

he tilts his head at you, ignoring the strain in his neck and the pounding in his head. "as soon as you heard?"

you chuckle, glancing down at the floor in what could only be described as embarrassment. "i was in the bathroom taking a piss when geri ran in yelling for me," you admit.

your eyes roam his body, your eyes matching the empathetic stares of everyone he has looked at since he was helped out of that stupid car. he hates it. he hates being on the receiving end of those stares, but it was strangely comforting coming from you.

"are you alright? do you have any more injuries?" you ask. you look at him, hands hovering above his hand that rests on his knee. max gives you a small nod of consent.

"it's just a concussion, from what i can feel," max admits. though, it hurts everywhere. when you crash into a wall at that speed and black out, it's definitely going to hurt everywhere that it can.

he's watching you intently. you're lifting his sleeves to scan for bruises and moving about the neckline of his race suit to look for any injuries. there's a tingling sensation that you leave behind as your fingers graze over his now exposed skin.

"i'm okay."

"i don't buy that at all," you scoff. you reach over for the empty plastic chair and pull it to his side. you take a seat. "i'm glad you're okay. i was really worried something bad had happened."

he smiles. the way you care for him never fails to make his stomach churn and his heart start to race. "it could've been worse. i'm glad it's just a concussion i've got."

you turn your head to look at him. god, he wishes he can just take you in for an embrace and reassure you that he's perfectly fine. because he is. it's just some body aches - nothing he hasn't had to go through before as an athlete.

"i'm sorry about the race." you take his towel into your hands and fold it up. you gently tap on his face, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his face. "let me know if you need anything, okay? water, ice... food..."

"i will handle," he grins, his gaze following your hands' movements. "thank you, though."

you don't say anything. you just smile at him as you put the towel back down on his knee. you rest your hand just above the damp material and tilt your head at him. "how do you feel, though?"

"g-"

"about the points," you cut him off. "it's a close fight for the driver's championship. how do you feel about that?"

he shrugs, pouting his lips out. you widen your eyes at him as you anticipate the next thing coming from his mouth. "it's just racing. i'll come back next weekend."

you roll your eyes and lean back into the chair. both of your eyes are on the tv, watching the broadcast of the race together. "i believe in you. there's still a long season ahead of you."

he moves his eyes to look at you. not his head fully - he doesn't need you catching him stare at you. your unconditional support for him just made him want to jump for joy.

thought, sometimes he does wonder if you're only doing it because you work for the team. but other times you're just so believable that he thinks it's him as a person you're rooting for.

and god, he wants it to him so bad.

"it feels like forever - this pain," he admits. without thinking, his hand instinctively reaches forward. he puts his hand above yours. he squeezes your hand.

he sees you shake your head. you manoeuvre your hand. now your palms are touching. he could have sworn it was the concussion making him see and feel things when you intertwine your fingers.

if he were to be honest with you, he feels like this could the lowest point of the season for him. that rear failure earlier on felt minuscule compared to this crash. deep down inside, there's a fear that there's no coming back from this.

you squeeze his hand, slightly tighter than he had done to you just a few seconds prior. "i wish i could make it better. i'm sorry, max."

your voice wavers as you speak to him. and it kills him that you’re so worried for him. he does have a healthy support system, as much as the public wants to make it out that he’s too cold for that.

max wants to reassure you, just as you'd done with him. but he doesn't even know how to do that. your presence now, while he's still slightly out of it from the crash, is enough to put him at ease.

he sighs, squeezing your hand once more. it's at the tip of his tongue. if he could just convince himself to say it to you.

yet, he settles with, "you're the best."

three.

max leans back into the wall, arms folded over his chest. the strobing lights, the music bouncing off the walls, and a plethora of bodies surround him.

next to him, sebastian is deep in conversation with daniel. a conversation that he had tuned out of a few minutes ago. when he found you on the dance floor, terrorising alex and lily with your dance moves.

if you asked him, he would've told you that you're a natural at many things. dancing, unfortunately, is not one of them.

his silent pining comes to a halt when he meets lily's gaze from across the room. a knowing smile on the girl's face, he feels his cheeks heat up when she drags alex down to whisper something in his ear while pointing at max accusingly. alex turns his head in max's direction and his body shakes with a laugh.

great. they've caught on.

alex nods and raises his eyebrows at max teasingly. alex glances at you, shocked to find out that you've managed to shimmy your way 5 metres down the dance floor to now terrorise george and carmen.

max smiles to him, watching alex bend over backwards to get your attention. it's proven a challenge when you sandwich yourself between them.

when alex manages to finally get your attention, you just smile at him. you hand him the empty glass in your hand and grab carmen's hands. it's a wonderful sight - alex struggling to get your attention. but when he did, max swears his heart skips a beat.

because you lean into alex, listening to what he says into your ear. alex points in his direction and your face lights up when your eyes meets his.

you stride across the room and push yourself through the crowd. before he knew it, you're staring up at him with a toothy grin and wide eyes.

from the corner of his eyes, he notices sebastian and daniel have stopped their conversation. across the room, lily and carmen have flagged their boyfriends down. all eyes are on the two of you.

"what are you doing here all by yourself? you should be out on the dance floor celebrating!" you shout over the music, tiptoeing slightly to meet max's height. "you just won a race!"

"i'm good here, thanks!" max laughs, moreso at your state. your cheeks are puffed up and your lips are swollen. even your voice sounds damaged from all the screaming you've done. "enjoy your evening, please! don't worry about me!"

you shake your head in urgency. "no! you have to celebrate!"

he continues to look down at you, genuinely considering if he should let your persuasion tactics work on him tonight. who is he kidding; he can never say no to you.

"okay, but i'm driving us back to the hotel. so no drinks for me." before he could finish his sentence, you've managed to yank him off the wall. your hand has a firm grip around his wrist as you guide him through the crowd towards the bar counter.

"we'll get a cab!" you stop right at the bar and turn around to look at him. "you won the race today! aren't you excited? are you not at least a little bit prideful that you're leading the driver's championship again?"

max supposes you have a point. he should be excited. here he is in his 6th year in formula 1, being so close to clinching the world champion title for the first time in his life. it's just one night, right?

he can't possibly let you be more excited for his achievements than himself. that's just not right. did he not believe in himself?

he watches you prop yourself up on the bar stool, carefully telling the bartender your order. max's hands hover over your body, just in case you'd fall.

once again, you have managed to make his heart race by putting so much emphasis on his achievements. he's made his way onto the podium several times now that it seems almost mundane for him to end up there.

he wants the next big thing; he wants the world championship title. but why exactly is he waiting a whole few months just to celebrate again?

"come on, max! let loose a little. you don't have to wait for the season to be over to celebrate," you answer genuinely. for a moment there, max almost thinks you're sober. "if you don't want to celebrate your small wins, at least let me do it for you?"

he huffs. you're a lot more convincing when you pretend to be sober, after having downed a couple glasses of cocktails.

you tilt the unscrewed bottle of beer towards him, a freshly mixed glass of cocktail in your other. "congrats on winning the race today, max. i'm so proud of you."

max takes the bottle out of your hands. he willingly taps the neck of the bottle onto the rim of your glass. "cheers," he grins, watching you excitedly sipping away on your mojito.

if he could guess, you’re 6 glasses in. you’re definitely going to regret it in the morning.

you swiftly intertwine your fingers with his and start to pull him towards the dance floor. "let's go celebrate!"

you stop abruptly, your cocktail almost spilling all over your dress as he plants his feet into the ground. you squeeze his hand and look up at him shyly with your chests almost touching. even in the sea of people in the club, you managed to make it feel so intimate.

just you and him.

can he really excuse the words threatening to slip out of his mouth with half the bottle of beer in his system? can he just say it without you remembering it the next day?

but you beat him to saying something. "i'm so proud of you, max."

he smiles, letting a small breath out. he squeezes your hand. "thank you. you're the best."

four.

it's upsetting, really, not having you in the paddock all weekend. what you'd thought to be a simple itchy throat from all the sweets you've consumed had turned into a covid scare. you're isolated in the hotel, albeit having tested negative, already better.

the team couldn't risk getting either driver contracting a sickness. especially not max, a clear contender for the title this year.

max has not seen you since tuesday. the photos of him on the red bull racing social media platforms are just not as good when it's not you taking them. nobody else on the marketing team ever tells him his hair is a mess. neither do you - you always just reach in to fix his hair for him.

max huffs, adjusting his shirt as he stood in front of your hotel room. the small bouquet of flowers suffocate in the grip of his hands. a plastic hangs on his fingers.

the lock clicks. the door is slowly pulled open. there you are, in all your glory. your hair is up in a ponytail, you're in your pyjamas with juice in your hand. your eyes widen. "max! what are you doing here?"

with flowers in his hands, there's really only so many excuses he can make up. he tilts his head and his eyes narrow down. he's searching his brain for an excuse - something that doesn't scream the fact that he is hopelessly in love with you. "um..."

he stays in the hallway of the hotel, and you stay inside with your hand still on the door handle.

when he had gotten off the race track, alex had celebrated with him. at some point, max expected someone to bring it up. it just shocked him that it had taken this long.

alex gave him a firm pat on the back as they strolled the paddock after media commitments. and the question finally came up. "so are you ever going to ask (y/n) out?"

the question should not have even shocked him in the first place. he had been sitting around waiting for someone to ask him this. nevertheless, he was still dumbfounded by the question.

he started explaining - how he can never get around to asking you out. you're christian's beloved niece. first of the next generation. christian even introduced you as the daughter he had to raise before he ever thought about having kids of his own.

and alex gave him the weirdest stare. because everyone on the paddock could easily tell max had feelings for you. he didn't do much to hide it either. it'd apparently been so bad that even toto wolff sneaks around the paddock with questions if there's been progress.

and so, here he is, standing in front of your hotel room after having won his home race. when he managed to escape his pr manager, he took a shower and immediately bought flowers, some food and came straight to you.

he missed you all week.

"max?"

his answer comes out in a ramble. if you hadn't spent so much time with him, you probably wouldn't have understood. but in your week of absence, the driver doted on you with video messages, voice messages and pictures. endless updates with the grid, the drama, the placements.

anything to make it feel like you were still there with him.

"can i take you out on a date?"

his heart races. beads of sweat form on his forehead. the hallway, that had once felt so icy suddenly became so warm.

"what?" your jaw drops, eyebrows are raised in shock. the silence is deafening.

is this some kind of sick prank alex is pulling on him?

immediately, max goes into defensive mode. "i mean, it's okay if you don't! i just thought if i don't shoot my shot now, then i'll never know. i won't take it personally!" he lifts up the plastic filled with tupperwares of food. "i even brought you supper!"

you scoff with a laugh bubbling up from your stomach. you leap up from your spot, throwing yourself onto max. you lift your feet off the ground. his available arm wraps around your waist to stabilise you. his other arm, already busy with gifts for you, darts out to hold the door ajar.

and what does this mean, exactly? max verstappen has never been one to take these things for an answer. he needs is in black and white - in the clearest of clarifications.

"yes, of course!" you squeal into his shoulder. okay, now he can celebrate. it had taken you a solid 10 seconds in a tight embrace before you decided that the hotel's hallways were too exposing for your liking.

finally, he lets you guide him into the hotel room. he can't stop the wide grin forming on his face either. by the looks of it, neither can you.

"right. these are for you," max finally says, holding out the bouquet of flowers to you. "and i'm sorry i'm late. i could have gotten here earlier if it weren't for alex and lando fighting me over what flowers to get you."

your eyebrow raises, willingly receiving the flowers. "you were in cahoots with those two?"

"and george," max shrugs simply, scrunching up his nose. "but he was easier to deal with than those two."

you smile, if it's possible to get even bigger than what's already there, as your fingers lightly graze over the petals of the flowers. max simply stands back while he watches you admire the brightly coloured bouquet.

he's confident about one thing that night: what kind of flowers to get you. so when lando and alex were fighting him over which flowers to get you, they were simply debating over the roses.

but he is in the netherlands. what else could have been the right choice of flowers but the tulips? and he's in an expensive sport, after all. it would be so uncharacteristic of him to undermine the way he felt for you.

long story short, he got the most gigantic bouquet filled with striped tulips. he spent 150 euros. that's not even near the amount he knows he feels for you.

if you asked him for the world, he'd simply exhaust every single resource he has to give it to you.

"thank you so much," you coo, finally looking up at him. you lean in, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. and he will absolutely spend the rest of his night thinking of this exact moment.

this is quite possibly the furthest he's gone with you. and he almost slips up again. he should've just said it, but he's just not quite sure he should. it's just going to scare you off.

"oh! and, congrats on the race win today," you cheer before pressing your lips against his cheek again.

max grins. he doesn’t know why he put it past you. you’ve made it clear you’re going to be his biggest fan. “oh, you watched the race?”

you’re gently laying the bouquet on top of the table in the corner of your room. “of course. it was a brilliant race. i'm so proud of you."

he just squeezes your shoulder. "thank you. you're the best."

five.

in his dark hotel room, the tv illuminates your face as your eyes lock on the movie you've chosen. it's the only way max can see your face. he'd love to be able to pay attention to this movie, but how could be when you're all tangled up with him.

"are you scared?" you suddenly mutter. your first words in almost 20 minutes, almost making him question if you're making conversation because you're falling asleep.

"what?" he's genuinely dumbfounded with the question. he glances at the tv, curious if he had dozed off long enough for you to choose another movie. but no. it's still mamma mia playing. "we're watching a musical."

max watches your body heave up, then down. "for tomorrow."

he tenses up. he's been trying his hardest not to think about it at all, actually. since he'd finished up his evening with media commitments, he just went straight to you in the garage office. he packed his bags and took you out to dinner.

he's secured pole position for tomorrow. he didn't want to think of anything else right now.

he doesn't want that stress passed on to you.

max hums, suddenly feeling an interest in the musical. it's meryl streep singing abba, after all. how can he not be any more interested? he shrugs. "okay, i guess."

he avoids your eyes. all eyes and remaining attention of the evening is on the actress belting out a song. and it's rudely interrupted when you pause it.

you stumble around, propping yourself up to your elbow to give him a stern look. "okay?" sometimes max forgets you're now his girlfriend. he forgets that he doesn't have to put up a front to shield you from his real emotions. "what do you mean 'okay'?"

he sighs. he turns his head back to face you, almost flinching at the glare you're giving him. he clears his throat as he pushes himself up against the arm of the couch. he sits cross-legged and you mirror his posture. he shrugs again. "i can't overthink it now. i just have to do my best tomorrow."

you throw your hands up in the air, scoffing. "what?"

max is at a loss for words. what response, exactly, did you expect out of him? "what?" he says back, hands also thrown up into the air. from the amount of time you've spent around him on the race track, he expected you to know his mindset when stepping into a race.

he can't overthink it before he even gets on the track. in fact, there is no room for that at all.

you resign to the other end of the couch and fold your arms over your chest. you even pull your feet back, not wanting to be in the range of his touch.

"(y/n), i don't know what you want me to say, darling," max responds gently. he's slightly annoyed, yes, but he doesn't want that to triumph your relationship. "you know the clear mind i need to get into a race. if i overthink, that's when it's over for me."

you roll your eyes. "no. it's just you and me. there is absolutely no way you have no opinions about the race tomorrow. not even a single thought? seriously, max?" you tear your eyes from him. "i'm not christian."

max sighs. he scooches over to you on the over end of the couch. though you squeeze yourself further into the armrest away from him.

he huffs, wrapping his arms around you. he pulls you in and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "of course, i have a thought in my head about the race. but if i let it get to me, darling, it can cost me the championship."

you hum, but there's a hint of annoyance. though, you give in. because you drop your head back on his shoulder and pout. "okay, fine. race your heart out, max. i just know you've got this."

he gives you a slight squeeze. a weaker one compared to others. honestly? he's terrified of screwing up tomorrow. he just wants that title so bad. all his life, he's worked for it.

he's simply afraid to let christian down. more importantly, he's afraid to let you down. though his handful of mental breaks about being so close to the final race of the season, you'd reassure him that you'll always be proud of him no matter what.

it's just not enough for him.

the movie starts to play again. you coddle up into his lap and he rests his cheeks on your head. i love you.

thank you, you're the best.

max has not been able to get the ringing out of his head since he crossed the checkered flag. he has not been able to think straight since then.

he just won his first world championship title. he's on his knees, his head resting on the tire. all 58 laps, all he could think of is how is he going to win? how will the season play out?

he finally lifts his head, dropping himself back to sit on the track of the abu dhabi track. he groans loudly, almost into a scream, as he unclips his helmet. he yanks it off his head, then his balaclava almost immediately.

he is feeling so many things.

then across the barrier, he sees you. eyes filled with tears, hair pulled back into a ponytail, in your very own red bull racing uniform. his stare down with you doesn't last long. christian is quick to yank you away.

and he spends the next 5 minutes scanning the crowd for you. sure, he wants to celebrate with the people that made it possible for him to even be there in the first place. but there is you.

"max!" your voice makes him whirl around. a sigh of relief slumps his shoulder. it's you.

his face lights up at the sight of you. just a minute ago, he felt so drained. he barely found it in himself to walk to his team for cheers. yet here he is jogging towards you.

"world champion, max verstappen!" you scream. you leap off the ground, legs quickly wrapping around his waist.

his arms wrap around your torso, just holding you close to his body. "i'm so proud of you," you cry into his already wet neck. you wrap your arms around his shoulders tighter. "i fucking told you."

he doesn't even know what to think. his mind is in a jumble of thoughts. it's undeniable that you had pushed him to his best this season. just having you there, reassuring him every single weekend. even when he crashed, even when he'd retired out of a race.

your legs slowly drop back down to the ground, and he finally gets a good look at your face. for some reason, you're just as sweaty as he is. the ponytail on your head is falling apart and the makeup running down your face almost makes him laugh.

then the excitement obviously hits you again. because you give him a firm and strong pat on his shoulder. "you proved them all wrong, max! you're a world champion!"

his chin is held high and his chest is puffed out. you'd never doubted him. it almost brings him to his knees how much support you had for him.

max is so full of emotion. the race, the title; you. you jump in your spot and clap, nose scrunching up in delight. "i told you this was your season! i knew it all along!"

and he just blurts it out. "(y/n), i love you."

you don't even hesitate. it's like you'd been waiting around to say it too. "i'm so fucking proud of you. i love you."

[sugoi-writes]

Morning! I have a little silly idea for Alastor x Reader and wanted to share :D

Reader is stressed over some big event that is about to happen in the Hotel (like idk maybe they're throwing a ball or some gala to encourage more sinners to check in) and while she's giving a pep talk to everyone she absentmindedly starts fixing Alastors bowtie/coat/hair and everyone expects him to snap at you (you two were more of rivals than friends) but instead he smiles at you softly and fixes your necklace. You two only realize what you did when Angel "quietly" asks as a joke when did the two of you get married 😅

Sorry this took so long!!! I hope this is doing your prompt a little bit of justice! Please enjoy!!!

No warnings for this one, really! Just some good old fluff and pining (which I DESPERATELY need to work on, HAHA--)

♥️♥️♥️

Everything was hung in place, not a tassel or a drape awry. The decorations and accents, deep reds and lush golds, adorned every surface you could see. It was... gaudy. But it was perfect.

When all was said and done, you clasped your hands together, a triumphant smile on your face. Charlie, being the sweetheart she was, tasked you with orchestrating the grand-reopening ball. She had to admit, it was nice to throw the reigns to someone else for a while. She definitely got some MUCH needed time alone with Vaggie, who was also more than willing to take a backseat.

Your voice cut through the chatter like a knife, silence behalfing the room with your address," Alright... guys, everything looks great. The place looks perfect. Everyone is looking--"

As your eyes flit about the hotel residents, you spy a freshly-apparated Alastor, who was... off. Physically, you mean. You squint for a moment, spying three things: Hair, Bowtie, Handkerchief.

"Sh-Sharp... everyone looks sharp."

Without thinking, you marched right up to the Radio Demon, collective gasps around the room as you touched him. Looks of bewilderment, horror, and amusement surrounded you both. You were preening him, adjusting him... unannounced? With no physical repercussions? How were you still alive?

Both hands shimmied the black bowtie into place," The music is covered, thank you for the recommendations, Alastor--"

"Anytime, dear," he quipped, not flinching in the slightest. His eyes were trained forward, avoiding eye contact as you pat his chest. Charlie's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her skull as you pulled out the handkerchief, refolding and placing it back into Alastor's breast pocket. Another, resolute tap to his chest, and Angel's brain was short circuiting.

"Right-- like I was saying, everything is PERFECT. I need everyone on their BEST behavior when the doors open-- you especially, Angel. Everyone has their roles--"

Angel squinted, pouting as he shifted his weight... His head cocked to the side with a smirk, as if to say 'speak for yourself'! You strained onto your tiptoes, fluffing and adjusting Alastor's fringe, completely oblivious. There was a tinge of hair gel in Alastor's crimson, which surprised you. He had really gone the extra mile... albeit, still a little under perfect. Or maybe, you had just never noticed how much effort he put into his appearance?

"Niffty: keep an eye on the buffet and clean any and all messes. Angel, intel and vibe-checker. We have some big-wigs coming tonight, and I'm sure we could weasel our way into their good graces-- Make sure they're drinking, eating, dancing-- yknow!!! Having a good time!"

Alastor leans his head down for you, allowing easier access to his hair. You silently thank him, your tangent continuing," Charlie, Vaggie: you know the drill. Get them hooked on this place. Give them the razzle-dazzle to get them to stay. Lucifer, sir, you're in charge of the fireworks. I'm sure you have something ENTIRELY too bombastic for this, but-- just try not to scare anyone off tonight, sir???"

Lucifer, though still flabbergasted, gave you a pair of finger guns. This was his way of giving silent acknowledgement.

"Husk, of course: you're on drink detail. The more booze, the looser these guys get. The more likely they'll cave and stay the evening or become a patron--"

You blinked as warm hands were on your collarbone, adjusting your necklace. Though your face burned brightly, you didn't utter a word as Alastor finished his adjustments, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You looked up towards him, a friendly smile shot your way.

No words were exchanged, just smiles. You nod to Alastor, before turning to face the crowd. You weren't expecting to see looks of confusion and shock: everyone looked like deer in headlights. You sigh, chuckling a bit as you crossed your arms," C'mon guys, I know everyone is nervous about reopening to the public today, but we've got this!!! Seriously, everything is absolutely perfect now and--"

"If I can cut in real quick, toots-- are we plannin' a weddin'?" Angel retorts, fanning his hand back and forth between you and the Radio Demon.

"I mean-- not that I'm complainin', but y'gotta warn a guy first. I would've worn somethin' else for such a special day~"

You blink, utterly confused, before it finally clicked. You sputter dramatically, eyes wide and face heated from the implications," I don't-- I don't know what you mean, Angel--"

"Oh honey, we aren't BLIND. Admit it, you're mackin' with Tall, Dark, McNasty. And honestly, I get it. Chase your dreams or whateva. It's kinda cute~"

There were murmurs from the other crew, loosely agreeing to Angel's sentiments.You take a step forward to say something, before a hand clamps onto your shoulder. Your face only grew warmer as Alastor stepped in front of you. His pleasant smile strained, his annoyance further proven by his left, twitching eye.

"Now now, let's not lead the night with accusations and gossip-- though I'm usually a big fan myself~," Alastor mused, his grin widening.

" I'm afraid you all have the wrong idea-- I was just simply making sure everything was perfect. Just as our party host is." Alastor turns to you now, his smile softening," And that's exactly what tonight will be, with you at the helm: perfectly executed."

Angel snorts, leaning over towards Husk as he covers his mouth. A hushed whisper and an eyebrow wiggle are thrown his way," Oh, they're DEFINITELY fuckin'~"

You nearly shrieked as you cover your face with both hands, frustrated," Shut up, shut up, just-- UGH. L-Let's get to our battle stations, guys-- doors open in FIVE MINUTES," you bark. The nervous energy in the hall multiplies before dispersing, as everyone made themselves busy. It was very clear that everyone was trying to ignore the elephant in the room (and failing miserably). You do your best not to smudge your polished appearance as you turn on your heel, making your way towards the bar.

Immediately, you give it a knock, two fingers out. Husker nods, pouring you a double shot of your preferred poison. Swiftly swallowing the elixir of courage, you felt some of the embarrassment melt away. A familiar presence appears beside you, mimicking your knock and drink order. You sigh as Alastor's hand comes into your line of sight, eyes naturally following it as he swirled his drink, before downing it. You couldnt help but focus on the bob of his adam's apple, before you had the decency to look away. Alastor grinned down to you, tilting his head.

"Still troubled by their words, dear?"

You groan," D-Don't call me that, Alastor... Angel's going to feel like he's right," you reply, holding the bridge of your nose. Alastor laughs, leaning against the counter," Oh come now, I'm sure this whole mess will roll off your back by night's end~" Alastor teases, jazz hands accenting his playfuk tone. You groan again, frustrated," UGH, no, if HE'S distracted by that, EVERYONE here will be-- I just-- I don't wanna cause any unnecessary attention. 'For EITHER of us. You have your gambit for tonight, and I have mine... We need this to go WELL, not to be the talk of the town..."

Alastor leans against the counter, back pressing into it as he looks your way. Normally, he would continue to goad you into a precious, pathetic mess, but the look on your face felt too... troubled. You really were overthinking things, his eye catching the way you bit your lip.

The two shots he ingested already softened his edge, his head lolling to the other side," ...'a little advice, then?" You look over at Alastor, surprised by the change of subject.

"Sure. Might as well," you quip, resting your chin on your hand as Husk whisks away your empty glasses.

"If you walk around the room like your hair is on fire, the entire operation goes up in flames... This is commonly seen in management, but works just the same here," Alastor states, pretending to be fascinated with his talons.

"And truly, for tonight, you are the leader, the ringmaster of this event... the others will ask questions, and look to you for guidance. If you walk around like everything is going to fail, then it is destined to. So perk up!" Alastor's hand finds your chin, forcing you to look his way. Your breath catches for a moment, your eyes settling on his face. It was flushed, warm... and a hint of something you can't describe. He was being unreasonably chaste. Is this what Mimzy meant by "sweet as a kitten"?

"I think everything will go as it should, as long as you keep a cool head, dear. And if you can't, well...," Alastor grins as he knocks on the counter, each of you receiving another drink.

"--there's always liquid courage to settle the nerves."

You nod slowly, processing his words. Real, genuine advice... and, some sincerity sprinkled in? Were you really that drunk already??? Deftly, you picked up your glass, almost downing it before Alastor stops you.

" A toast, first."

Alastor grins as he picks up his own glass, clinking it against yours," To your success, my dear."

You move in autopilot as you clink back against his drink," Y-Yeah uhh... to the Hotel's future," you added, the two of swallowing your drinks hastily. Alastor straightens his posture, reaching over to squeeze your arm in reassurance. The radio in the room flicks to a new frequency, changing to a modern, catchy song that you recognized.

" Th-This is--"

"Your favorite, right?" Alastor finishes, his grin widening," Well dear, I am nothing if not accommodating. For tonight, let's have a little fun. Change things up." You nearly jump out of your skin as the front lobby doors begin to open, Alastor's eyes meeting yours.

"I expect to have your first dance. Meet me when you'd like to accept the offer."

And with that, Alastor leaves you, melding into his shadow form to flit to another spot in the room. You blink a few times, still reeling from the entire interaction. You hadn't told Alastor your favorite song. Not even once. And, you never dared to listen to it in front of him, fearing that he would disregard you or even chastise you for your taste.

You feel your heart swelling as you search for Alastor again, mouth falling open in silent protest. You wanted to pester him, ask him how he was able to know something so personal.... However, you are greeted by a sharply dressed demon, all too eager to make your acquaintance.

You allow your hand to be kissed, and pleasantries were exchanged. But ultimately... you felt your eyes constantly searching for Alastor. Maybe Angel was right, you thought... Maybe you did have something going on between the two of you. You felt a blossom that had remained so stubborn finally experience it's long-awaited bloom.

Maybe you did like Alastor. Maybe, just maybe, he liked you too... As the night grew longer, you realized that you just might be content with that.

[writingoddess1125]

Gigs

This Fine Lady has been in my drafts for like- 8 Months??? Please excuse grammer issues, i didnt re-read it

Support me on Ko-Fi

Masterlist

0200 Hours Barrancas Del Cobre

The rhythmic thumping of rotor blades echoed through the open sky as Gigs skillfully maneuvered the large military helicopter through the turbulent skies. TF 141, clad in their tactical gear, secured safely inside and ready for the upcoming mission.

"Ready for quick action Pilot Gigs? May have to make a smooth landin lass" Price called to you, walking to your chair as you glanced back at the man.

"Nah Cap, I' like it slow'~ Especially with Becks Sh's a romantic~" Gigs said with a laugh patting the helicoper stick at the made up nickname for the vehicle, earning a few giggles from the boys in the back.

"Ohh A romantic I see, well a romantic with this many men with big guns? Would mistake for a slag-" Price said earning a loud laugh from Gigs as they went through a mountain pass, the trip had been smooth sailing so far.

However it seemed smooth sailing wasnt a guarantee. Ghost glancing back as he saw two dots coming behind them- Fast.

"Gigs!- Company" He loudly announced, the crew looking back as Gigs clicked her tongue.

"Well Shit! Hold on tight, boy's it’s ’bout to get rough!" Gigs cackled, fixing her helmet as she kicked up the helicopter towards a tighter canon pass, seeing two attack copters getting closer.

"Price! Look in my bag 'eal quick, you need a good shot"

She hollered out, the men preparing for a air attack as Price went to the back of the copter to the pilots coop, reaching in as he couldn't help but raise a brow.

Pulling back a Pila Launcher, With a few rounds of ammo as well. Price walking to the door as he slid it open, the men taking a look at the launcher of choice.

Alejandro looking to Gigs with a terrified laugh- "You keep this on hand!?"

"Oh Bless You Darlin' you shou'd see wha' I keep in my panty dra'er" She said with a wink and smile as she flicked up some keys, Grunting as she saw the two on her tail and flicked up the gas.

Lets Fuckin Go-

As she zips through the canyon, dodging enemy fire, the team bracing themselves hard, holding the leather straps as they felt gravity slamming against them. The enemy helicopters are hot on their tail, as sound of gunfire from them heard- but Gigs is in her element. She dips the chopper into a tight barrel roll, narrowly avoiding a missile that streaks past, exploding against the canyon wall.

"How the bloody hell are we still in the air!?" Gaz shouts, gripping his seat for dear life. Ghost grabbing his vest to keep against the seat as he hissed himself at the harsh movements.

"Cause I’m just that damn good baby!" Gigs yells back, her voice full of adrenaline-fueled excitement. Price loading the Launcher as best as he could, his body slamming into the copter side, Alejandro grabbing him to steady as the doors swung open. Price holding steady as he aimed at the closest helicopter-

"One Down! Need to reload!" Price yelled out as contact was struck, Starting to reload as fast as possible. Gigs glanced around quickly however, knowing the second copter could take them down especially when she saw missles fire- till her eyes spotted the canyon wall.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!"

Gigs pulls the chopper into a steep climb up the canyon, gaining altitude fast.

"Come on Beck's!, Clime for me sug!" She yelled out as the boys felt themselves go vertical.

"You're Fuckin' Mental!" Soap yelled out with a laugh as he felt his feet dandle from the seat.

"Time for some fireworks, boys!" She flips a switch, and flares shoot out from the helicopter, confusing the incoming missiles that explode harmlessly in the sky perfectly turning the guns on the remaining copter-

"Gotcha You Bitch!"

A whistle of excitement leaving Gigs as she howled and shot down on the copter watching it explode fust a few hundred yards from them.

"WOO!"

Gigs laughed out as she zipped through the canyon to a lower pass, close to the drop off point were she would need to hide out.

The men in the back a bit frazzled by the fast pace combat and worrying excitement from their female pilot.

0600 Landing Spot

After securing their landing the group disbanded from the helicopter, Gaz who was familiar with helicopter trauma seemed ready to simply walk back to London at this point..

"Ill be here waiting for y'all" Gigs told them, The men nodding in understanding as they gave a short brief at the task at hand. However Soap eyes began to wonder over the female pilot specifically her ass.. Seeing how he couldn't tell if he saw attracted to her, attracted to the crazy- or both- however his wondering eye was quickly caught as she looked Soap immediately and locked eyes with him.

Soap felt a bit intimidated by how she looked him up and down, like she was mentally doing math on him.

"What?" He questioned, which seemed to make her smile.

"Youre goin on a date with me pretty boy" She said suddently, Patting his vested chest with a smirk before walking off.

"Pretty boy?" He scoffed, glancing around at the rest of the team staring at him and Alejandro suppressing giggles.

"How it feel Soap getting a date with her?" Gaz said as he slapped the man's back who was just now realizing what happened.

"I got a date?-" He innocently asked, looking to Ghost who nodded softly in confirmation.

"I got a date!?"

[heartf0ul]

I’m finally gonna do it *sigh*

REDACTED CHARACTERS AS THINGS ME AND MY FRIENDS AND SIBLINGS HAVE SAID *sob* mostly just shaws and solairs but oh well 🤷‍♂️

—————————————————

Asher- “so how much ARE padlocks?”

Darlin-“free if you steal ‘em”

—————————————————

*silence*

Baabe-“the forlorned autistic scream was angel”

David-“yea I got that”

—————————————————

*Asher walks in and hands tank a cup of apple juice*

Tank:” what did you do to it.”

Asher:”I didn’t do anything to it”

Tank:”did you piss in it?”

Asher:”I didn’t do anything!”

—————————————————

Angel:”🎶I just took a dna test turns out I’m a hundred percent adopted.”

—————————————————

Asher:”can I have a sip”

Milo:”yea”

Asher:” thank you bro *takes a bite of the foam cup*

—————————————————

Someone:”you need a hobby”

Porter:”I have a hobby, being lonely😒”

—————————————————

Porter:”IM ALOUD TO HAVE AN OPINION”

Vincent:”NOT WHEN THE OPINION IS WRONG”

—————————————————

Baabe:”the 4th of July would be a great time to bomb America because all the fireworks already sound like bombs”

Sweetheart:”it’s a good things you have anxiety or you would be a villain”

Asher:” LMAO you’re to anxious to do your monologue”

—————————————————

Asher:” you need an exorcism”

Sweetheart:” I do exercise”

Asher:” we need to exorcise the British out of you”

—————————————————

*playing roblox*

Tank:”where’s the train?”

*gets hit by train*

Tank:”oh”

—————————————————

Angel:” stop saying those no no boo boo words :(“

Tank:” stop being a no no boo boo BITCH

—————————————————

*playing sb on roblox*

*Gregory: there’s something here!*

Milo:” there’s nothing here”

*moment of silence*

Asher:” something killed Milo”

—————————————————

*still playing Roblox 🤷‍♂️*

Angel:” there’s nothing down here I think I’m fine”

*scream*

Angel:” I AM NO LONGER FINE”

—————————————————

Angel(again):” I’m gonna get him, I’m gonna lick his ass”

*immediate regret*

Sh:” WOW Angel 😕”

—————————————————

Porter:” idk but I hate it, I hate my life”

Sam:” you should”

—————————————————

Vincent:” I have BPD, bitch pretty dumb”

—————————————————

I tried my hardest- istg if u tell me I grammard wrong I’ll fight u

[ageofevermore]

SO SCARLET IT WAS

REQUEST — can you do a blurb of Wanda and reader? where reader has been sending wanda love letters anonymously. in the end it's revealed it was reader and wanda asks why they would do that when they are already married

WARNINGS — mentions of canon age of ultron events, mentions of canon civil war events, mentions of natasha’s death in endgame although very brief for my own sanity more then yours, parent clint and nat although it’s more nat focused, fluff to the max

AUTHORS NOTE — i don’t wanna talk about how this was supposed to be a blurb. also, for the sake of this timeline, wandavision is genuine not a scripted reality. wanda and reader did everything the right way and found a life together in westview

AGE OF ULTRON

You shouldn't have fallen in love so easily, especially not with her, you were a trained Avenger for thors sake, love was supposed to be at the bottom of your priorities barrel. That was easier said than done, because from the very first time that your eyes met across the battlefield, everything inside of you froze, skipped, and stuttered all at once. You should’ve been alert enough to detonate the blast before it could wound Clint, usually you were steps ahead of it, but her eyes were absorbing all the explosions around you and the soft watercolor green was alight with fireworks so beautiful you couldn’t look away. After that, you stood no chance of ever clearing her from your head. Even if she was supposed to be the enemy, even if you’d never experienced love before. Nat and Clint gave you the benefit of the doubt at first. You never missed your mark on a mission, but the cold temperatures and the fact that Helen said your heart rate was alarmingly high for your average bpm had given them the slightest indication that something was bothering you. That maybe, you hadn’t been so recovered from your history with Hydra as they thought. So, they sent you back to therapy.

Truthfully, therapy distracted you from her for a while, revisiting your past could distract you from anything for a short amount of time, but then you started having dreams. Not the nightmares that tickled your belly and drenched you in sweat and had you knocking on Natashas bedroom door at three in the morning looking for evidence that you really had been saved, but dreams of what ifs that all included her. Dreams where Natasha and Clint weren't the ones who found you barely clinging to life in an abandoned facility in Russia, dreams where it was her. That should’ve been the second indicator that you were never going to escape the curse she laid upon your heart without a single word. But you still tried to convince yourself that you could get over this, that you could see straight with clear judgment.

When she got inside of Natasha’s head the second time you crossed paths, you should’ve been enraged. You should’ve been cured of any delusion you harbored in your heart, but the attack only made you hurt for her. If things had played out differently, if Natasha and Clint had found her like they’d found you, maybe she wouldn’t be the enemy. If Natasha and Clint hadn’t found you, maybe you’d have ended up in her shoes, afraid to go against the only orders you knew. In moments like these, where Natasha’s half unconscious lost in her mind, and Clint is rolling in panic, and Tony is enraged and defeated, you seem to be the only one aware enough to recognize that maybe this is all she knows. That maybe, she’s just trying to not to get hurt again.

Natasha sees your feelings for what they are a few hours after landing at the farm. You had been sorting through your small selection of clothes that Laura organized in the back of the guest room closet while Natasha took a shower. You wanted to find something loose that didn’t irritate the healing wounds on your side from the first mission, but you were so far in your head you’d looked at the same shirt four times without realizing. Natasha had watched the entire event unfold, and like she never could when it came to you, fought feelings of rage and pride. You are the closest thing she’s ever going to have to a daughter, and watching you fall in love with someone so dangerous, she doesn’t know what the appropriate reaction is.

“You like her.” The assassin's tone was even, not giving away if she felt one way or another about the predicament you’ve landed in, but keeping her posture open so you wouldn’t shut down like you had a habit of doing. She and Clint knew you like the back of their hand, how had it taken them this long to realize you weren’t just reeling at the confrontation of your past, but falling in love with the enemy. You hadn’t even noticed she was still in the room with you, and that the shower water hadn’t been running at all. Every muscle in your body tensed, you were caught, and this could only go so many ways.

“I'm sorry.” With wide eyes, you faced your mentor who had become like a mother to you in the last decade. You weren’t a kid with heavy PTSD anymore, you had overcome most of it, not without extensive work and self-reflection, but for the most part, you were just an ordinary teenage girl who saved the world on occasion. That’s what Clint and Natasha saw when they looked at you. That wasn’t the girl Natasha was looking at now. She was staring eye to eye with a child tortured by Hydra. A child without family and without confidence in herself. A child who thought she was about to be hurt.

In that moment, Natasha abandoned the rage she was clinging onto in her belly. At that moment, Natasha decided to lean into her pride, to just be your mother instead of your mentor. You had found somebody you cared about, and as your mother, she would be elated to help you recognize that feeling without holding onto the shame you were undoubtedly forcing yourself to remember. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Malyshka.”

“She’s the enemy! She hurt you, she-she could’ve killed Clint!” You spluttered, trying to reason with yourself that this wasn’t a good thing. That you were insane for trying to redeem a girl who had almost torn apart the only family you have.

Natasha forced herself to see the situation from your shoes, something she admittedly should’ve done from the get. She forced herself to remember that you had been with Hydra for six years of your life, that had she and Clint not found you, you might’ve ended up on the same field with Wanda playing against them. She never wanted to think about that possibility, never wanted to think about how little her life would mean without you, but in another universe, she’s sure that's how it played out. “She’s just a kid who doesn’t want to get hurt. But you didn’t fall in love with the enhanced, did you?” Natasha asked, and your cheeks flushed so violently scarlet they were almost maroon, almost the same deep shade as the magic tendrils that danced between your crushes fingers. “When the blast hit Clint, you were frozen. I thought you were stuck in a flashback, that the cold had brought you back to that abandoned base, that wasn’t it, was it? You were looking at her. You were seeing her as a person, not a weapon. Something we all should’ve done a lot sooner.”

“She has the greenest eyes, Nat. But-but after the blast hit Clint, she-she was so scared. She’s just trying not to get hurt. Something happened to her, I think she’s still scared because of it.” You admitted, tears welling in your eyes at the possibility of her getting hurt at your hands, because at the end of the day, you would never sacrifice Clint and Nat for her. At the end of the day, your side was with the people who raised you.

“Whatever you choose, Clint and I support you.” Natasha hated that her voice shook with tears, she hated that you were growing up, she hated that you were being shoved into a corner where you had to pick between finding out who you were as a person, or being an Avenger.

At the mention of your mentor who was like a father, your chest grew tighter. She almost killed him. She almost took him away from you, from his kids, from his wife. How would he ever forgive you for choosing her? “She almost killed him, Nat.”

“You will never, never lose us. Get that thought out of your head, right now.”

You sniffled, shuffling your feet against the carpeted floors to feel something other than stabs of aching pain in your chest. How did you end up here? “I don’t blame Clint if he doesn’t forgive her. If it comes down to his life or hers. I don’t blame him if he chooses to live.”

“Malyshka, I could’ve shot him the first day I met him. There is not an ounce of self-preservation in his bones. He sees the good in people too easily to just give up on them. Just like you. If it comes down to him or her, he’s choosing the both of them. You know that as well as I do.”

“Nat?” You asked softly after silence had fallen over the two of you for a beat, her words circling your head and your heart on a loop. When your mentor hummed, you spoke again, this time admitting what you’d been trying to deny. “I think I love her.”

CIVIL WAR

You didn’t want to believe what you were hearing. You didn’t want to believe that half of your team and mentors had signed the accords, that they had agreed with Secretary Ross to an extent and therefore fed into the bullshit propaganda that the enhanced were dangerous. You were almost enhanced. If Hydra had succeeded, you would’ve been all the same as Wanda and the new vigilante Spiderman. Had they forgotten that? Did they really only see Wanda for her powers? Not for the teenage girl that had lost her parents and her brother and been manipulated and abused and used as a test-subject? Had they just let that slip their mind so easily?

You hadn’t left Wanda’s side since Natasha broke the news to you. Almost a year had grown between now and the events of Ultron, and the former was trying her best to fit in, to make up for all the red in her ledger at the hands of Hydra. She was making leaps of improvement, but that still wasn’t enough. She was still just another enemy in the eyes of Secretary Ross, and he had asked you to do the impossible. Choose a side. Why was everyone making you choose a side?

Wanda tried not to let you see how much this was upsetting her, but from the moment you saw her across the battlefield you’d been able to read her like she was your favorite book. When she held you at night, you could feel how tense she was. When she walked around the compound, you could see how uncomfortable she felt and how she wanted to just melt away and not exist. It broke your heart, but once again, you’d been put in a situation where you couldn’t do anything to help. A situation where the majority saw you as just a kid unfortunate enough to have no real family.

“Let's run away.” You suggest one night when you’re wrapped up in nothing but a thin blanket and Wanda’s arms, far far away from reality and for this one single moment in time, it’s just the two of you. Just Wanda and Y/N. There aren’t any superpowers, or any Avengers level threats, or United States government officials trying to control them like objects the same way Hydra had. It’s just them. Just two teenagers broken by life and in love.

“To where.” Wanda hummed, her lips flush against your neck as she fought sleep to instead spend this moment with you. The vibration of her voice tickled your belly in the sweetest way you had ever experienced, and a flush spread across your cheeks so scarlet in color it was almost maroon.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Ohio. I hear it’s the best place to create your own reality.” You admit shyly, picking up the cold hand that's draped across your midsection, and beginning to play with her fingers and pull at her knuckles to hear them crack the way she loves, especially after training sessions with Natasha where their main focus had been working on controlling her magic. Secretly, you love the way her muscles contract after her knuckles pop and how she involuntarily squeezes your hand in hers. Secretly, its not a secret at all.

Wanda lets you play your game, knowing your intention but having never shared her knowledge with you. She finds it cute how eager you are to feel her, even in ways as innocent as this moment. And secretly, although it's no secret to you, she loves feeling you all the same. She loves coming up behind you and hugging you tightly, she loves when you just lay against her and shudder every time her breath tickles your neck, she loves when it's just the two of you in a moment as nothing more than girlfriends. “What would we be in this reality?”

“Fiances.”

Wanda snorts, laughing so hard the muscles in her belly tighten and her face goes scarlet. “We’re a little young for that, detka.”

“Childhood lovers. We would’ve been best friends since Kindergarten. You would’ve asked me to be your girlfriend in the fifth grade, after I failed a spelling test and wouldn’t stop crying. I would have said yes without a pause. We would’ve never broken up, and our parents would have loved it. Pietro would’ve teased us, but he would be happy for you. And when we graduated high school, you would’ve gotten down on one knee right then and there. We wouldn’t waste a single moment. And Nat and Clint would be elated. Your parents would call me their daughter. It would be perfect, our life in Ohio. Nobody would bat an eye at how young we are, because love doesn’t know numbers, it just knows feelings.”

Wanda sniffled, wondering how she could get so lucky to have you. “Would we have kids?”

“Two. Twins. I would think they were girls the entire time, and I would ask that we name them Natalia and Lauren, but you would know that they were boys. You never told me that, but when they were born you’d tell me you dreamt it. Two boys, William and Thomas. We’d call them Billy and Tommy. They’d be just like you. Stubborn and silly, but the sweetest angels. Our life would be complete.”

“And we’d raise them in Ohio?”

You shook your head, twisting in Wanda’s arms so you could see her watercolor eyes. Even without explosives lighting up the room, there are fireworks in them. “I would find us the perfect plot in New Jersey. We would build a home for them, where they could just be kids, and we could be the cool moms who host sleepovers and invite the entire town to birthday parties. Nat and Clint would visit on holidays, and they’d be sad that we moved away, but they’d be so happy for us. We would be so happy.”

ENDGAME

How could this be happening? How could you spend five years without the woman you love, and the second you have hope of getting her back, lose the woman who was the closest thing you had to a mother? How could you gain the weight of hope, and lose it in seconds. Five years without Wanda was agonizing, but you never feared for a second that you wouldn’t get her back. You had lost too much to give up, and when Tony had come to the compound, saying he found a way to get everyone back, how did you not know that you would lose everything all over again? How had you let his words sound like a fairytale? Why was the world always sacrificing the things that completed you? Why did you think for a second you could ever be completely happy?

WANDAVISION (wandayn sounded wrong)

“This is the sixth letter I’ve found since Monday!” Wanda was exasperated, coming into the kitchen with her arms full of babies and letters. Her messy red hair was tied back, away from her face, no doubt due to the fact that Billy and Tommy had just entered a phase where they loved to grab and yank at your hair if you left it down and in reach.

“Oh? What’s this one say?” You quizzed, brushing flour off of your hands and grabbing the dishrag. The kitchen was a disaster as you attempted to bake a cake for the twins first birthday, but you couldn’t care less about the mess as you took in the sight of your wife. She looked absolutely ethereal, with hair so red it was almost maroon and love in her eyes so exuberant it was like a never ending firework show.

“Something about how I complete them!” She was completely at her end with these letters, and the anonymous slash at the bottom that gave away nothing about who it could be from. The both of you had come a long way since mourning Natasha and finding a life for yourself in New Jersey, and the last thing Wanda wanted was somebody tearing apart everything that was finally good. That was finally easy. You both deserved this more than anybody else.

Your eyes sparkled mischievously, a glint of something chaotic catching Wanda’s attention. “They’re from you, aren’t they!” She gasped, handing you Tommy when he started to fuss, and adjusting Billy now that her other arm was free. You giggled, looking for an escape route but your moment was short lived as Wanda came closer and her hips pinned you to the island. “Why!”

“I’m in love with you. I thought you should know.” You answered simply, although it was so much more than that. Losing Natasha hadn’t been easy for either of you, leaving the Avengers was almost harder, because it was the last piece of Nat you had left, but you knew that she would’ve wanted this for you. She would’ve wanted you to be happy, to have a family, to find everything she wasn’t able to find because of her past. The life you lived now, as much as it was for yourself and for Wanda, it was for her and all that she had given to you.

“We’re married!” Wanda beamed, “I already knew you loved me!”

You giggled, leaning up to kiss her sweet scarlet lips, but a baby hand kept you from kissing her. “Do you want a kiss, Tommy? Do you want some love?” You giggled, showing his tiny palm in kisses before moving on to do the same thing to Billy, wondering how you had come so far from battlefields in only a decade.

[nrdmssgs]

Price comforting reader

Masterlist

Comforting series: Soap comforting reader König comforting reader

Hurt/comfort, fluff

Pairing: John Price x reader

Summary: You wake up from the nightmare, understanding, this is yet another night, when you won't be able to fall asleep again.

TW: reader has a PTSD, mentions of civilian surviving the aftermath of hostilities

AN: to my friend D. I miss you.

Third night in a row. This was becoming too much. You awoke with a heartbeat throbbing in your throat, echoing somewhere in between the temples. Only your hands clutching on a pillow are keeping your body from trembling of horror. 

White stars, sharp shards of white light descended on the city in a wide arc. You expected that the rumble of a volley was about to reach you. But there was silence all around. A deafening, painful silence. 

For others this could be a nice dream: watching the fireworks from your bedroom window. But not for you, because that window, that bedroom, that house and that part of the city were no more there.

Although it was so long ago, that you've got used to your new view out of the bedroom window, these nightmares of your previous life still haunted you. It didn't happen every single night - sometimes you even had full months without bad dreams. But they always came back sooner or later. 

This time it was particularly bad. You did everything, the doctors prescripted you to do: sport, walks before bedtime, chamomile tea with mint, medication. You even managed to start having that smartphone-free hour before bed.

Ok, to be absolutely honest: John managed to get you to put your phone down a couple of hours before bed. And all the week that he stayed with you, you repeated the same ritual. In the evening, he sat on the sofa next to you and held out his open palm.

“You know the drill, love: doomscrolling ends in a minute. One way or another. You can make it easy for yourself if you cooperate.” For the last three evenings, you didn't cooperate. But Price had his ways to make you forget, you even had a smartphone in your hand just 10 minutes earlier.

So you both did everything possible to get you relaxed and tired by the end of the day. Sadly, it didn't help.

You've slept at most 10 hours in total over the past 3 days. But what made you outrageous: John barely slept too, as he was up the very next second after you whimpered in your sleep. You still didn’t understand what happened, you didn’t wake up from a nightmare fully, and his hands were already wrapped around you.

“Sh-h-h, love, you're safe, you are safe, it's just a dream. Come on, breathe for me. Yes, just like that. Very good. Nice and deep inhale, now hold it for a few seconds and an exhale. I'm right here, you are safe with me. This won't happen ever again, I'll make sure of that.”

You tried to calm down and go back to sleep. Every time, you tried so hard, but it just didn't work. You ended up too hot, worn out with an aching head, incredibly tired and crushed by guilt as you notice dark circles under John's eyes.

So when you wake up on the third night and see John still sleeping, you sneak out of the bed and sneak into the only place that seems safe to you after such a dream. You stop in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway and slide down the wall. Then you shrink, curl up and wrap your arms around your knees.

You don't even have enough strength to cry. Your head is killing you, and visions from the nightmare still haunt you. 

Why the hell was everything dead silent in your dream? Just like here now, at this late hour.

The bed creaked a little, and you heard John's footsteps. He found you instantly and already knew what to do. He turned on the table lamp in the next room to illuminate the surrounding space a little, but not to hit the light in your eyes. Hastily returned and sank to the floor next to you.

“Which one this time?” He asks. “The white one.”

He froze for a moment. He wished his military background would never come in handy in his domestic life. At least not in this way.

“I was standing before the window like a complete idiot. I should have run, sought for a place to hide, reach the shelter… And just stood there.” You mumble, dropping your head between your arms. 

John engulfs you, cradles your limp, exhausted body and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“I`m sorry, you must have seen it for a thousand times on your… work. It must be insignificant to you John, please go back and rest. I don't want you to hate me for depriving you of sleep because of such a trifle.”

“Under no circumstance will I ever feel anything like hate, when it comes to you.” His voice is a tad husky after waking up in the middle of the night. “Those animals doing this to you, tearing your home apart, are the ones, for whom I have hate. A lot of it.”

He pulls you closer to keep you warm. “And your health, your wellbeing, is the most important thing out there. Believe me, whatever filth I've seen on a battlefield - it pales in comparison to the mere thought that you are suffering.”

He doesn't rush you off the floor, he gives you time to recover by massaging your wrists and talking softly. John knows that his deep voice has a calming effect on you.

He periodically leans closer to whisper how much he loves you and how much he appreciates every minute spent next to you. Even such a minute when you are both exhausted and sitting on the hard, cold floor.

He rejects all your offers for him to go to sleep alone.

“Go sleep knowing, that you are here in such a state? Not going to happen.”

He takes you to the couch, brings you water, and watches the first lights of the dawn with you. You tuck your face in the crook of his neck and let your worries gradually dissolve.

Maybe this is not the last bout of insomnia in your life. But from now on, you are sure, you'll always John by your side.

[fuckyeahsufjanstevens]

I don’t know if this is the right thing to say because English is not my first language, but some people fly too close to the sun. When I think about Sufjan Stevens or Ryuichi, Terry Riley, Frank Ocean, I feel like their music is great, but you love them because you can really hear their suffering, their agony, their pain. They have been given a role to filter not just their own feelings through music, but other people’s suffering and pain, too. I always feel so sad for them. Like, why them? Why do they have to bear that role of witnessing so much hardship and the difficulty of just being alive in this world and then translate it through music? I have endless respect and support for this type of artist. I went back to Japan for the first time since the pandemic and there were changes in my parents’ lives. I had to help my father change his living situation. It’s never easy to prepare them for the next chapter, the next chapter, the next chapter, and then you die. Yet I’m so grateful for that and to return to Japan and still feel like it’s my home. Sufjan and I share the same birthday, maybe one day apart [Stevens’ is July 1, Makino’s is July 2], so we’ve spent two birthdays together by his place in upstate New York. He made it so special. I was quite shy, and maybe being the same sign is why he’s just as shy as me, but I really appreciate his way of carrying himself. He wears super colorful clothes, he’s super different, and I love the way he’s not shy of being shy, like he just kind of stares at you and then doesn’t say anything. Everything about him hits close to my heart. He was obsessed with the fireworks then, almost like a child, and even though we didn’t talk much, I felt so much tenderness, intimacy, and warmth from him and his partner. Now I think about Sufjan and his surroundings quite often. His music has been helping me quite a bit: Carrie & Lowell, Call Me By Your Name, his recent piano work that sounds massive. I listen to him in the middle of nowhere in Japan, trying to clean up my parents’ shit. I’m amazed by his responsibility when dealing with very difficult stuff. He’s the type of person who flies quite close to the sun. I hope he’s doing alright, I hope he’s happy, and I hope he’s gonna manage. Because some people just have a very difficult role to feel things so intensely, and that’s not easy. It’s a big ask—even of someone phenomenal like him. - Kazu Makino (Blonde Redhead) on Sufjan