#garage rec room

[sprwiphonetips]

Pergolas - Deck Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary backyard ground level glass railing deck remodel with a fire pit and a pergola

[wolvietxt]

𝓓RAWN TO 𝓨OU !

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader  warnings : reader has a cat mutation, fluff, hurt comfort, past traumas, shy!reader wc : 1.8k

logan’s first mistake was being nice to you. 

you’d only been at the x-mansion for a couple of weeks, still getting used to the overwhelming energy of it all. after years of isolation and trauma, being thrown into a lively, bustling environment like this felt like stepping into a different world. you’d barely been able to keep up, senses overloaded with all the new faces, noises, and scents around you. everything was too much, too loud, and you felt like a stray cat caught in a storm.

it was one of those days when you were trying to find a quiet corner, somewhere to hide from the noise. the rec room was packed; laughter, conversations, the clatter of cutlery and plates filled the air, setting your nerves on edge. you sat in the corner, tail flicking anxiously, ears flattened against your head as you tried to drown out the chaos. you could feel your claws digging into your palms, a desperate attempt to ground yourself before you bolted. 

but then you caught a familiar scent - woodsy, rugged, with a hint of cigar smoke. it cut through the haze like a lifeline, something steady to latch onto. you turned your head and saw him: logan, walking through the crowd with a beer in his hand, that permanent scowl etched onto his face. 

you didn’t even think twice; you just got up and followed him. 

he didn’t notice you right away. he was too busy glaring at the world, lost in his own thoughts as he made his way through the mansion. it wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he paused, glancing over his shoulder and finding you trailing behind him like a shadow. 

“the hell’re you doin’?” he grumbled, eyes narrowing as he took in your anxious stance, the way your tail was flicking behind you, betraying your nerves. 

you froze under his scrutiny, unsure how to explain it. a soft mewl escaped you, one you hadn’t meant to make, and his scowl deepened. but he didn’t tell you to go away. instead, he just let out a resigned huff, turning back around with a muttered, “fine, just... don’t get in my damn way.”

you stuck to his side after that. 

logan found it annoying at first - he wasn’t exactly a people person, and having someone constantly following him around like a lost kitten was grating on his nerves. but no matter how many times he tried to shake you off, you’d always find your way back to him. it was like you had some kind of sixth sense for where he was in the mansion. if he was in the garage, you were there, perched on an old crate, watching him work on his bike with wide, curious eyes. if he was out back, smoking a cigar, you were sitting a few feet away, basking in the quiet comfort of his presence. 

he didn’t get it. 

“don’t you got somewhere else to be?” he’d grumble every now and then, but there was never any real heat behind it. 

you’d just shake your head, a small, shy smile on your lips. “i like being here... with you.” 

and maybe that was the turning point, the moment he stopped trying so hard to push you away. it wasn’t like you were causing trouble - you were quiet, easy to ignore when he wanted to be left alone, but always there when he needed an extra hand or just... someone to share the silence with. 

the others noticed, of course. 

“she’s like your little shadow, ain’t she?” rogue teased one day, leaning against the doorframe of the garage, her eyes twinkling with amusement. 

logan just shrugged, wiping the grease off his hands. “she’s harmless,” he muttered, like that was enough of an explanation. 

“she’s cute too.” rouge muttered under her breath, a smirk forming on her face. “hey, do you know why she’s even following you around in the first place?

“i got no fuckin’ clue. says she’s just drawn to me?”

the smile on her face grew tenfold, “oh logan...”

he shot her a confused look, her teasing eyes only twinkling more, a little snort that she seemed she couldn’t hold in forcing it’s way out.

things took a turn one night when you showed up outside his door, clutching a blanket to your chest, looking more skittish than usual. it was late, the mansion quiet except for the distant hum of the generator, and logan had been looking forward to some peace and quiet. 

but then there you were, eyes wide and pleading, ears drooping like a scolded cat. 

“what is it?” he asked, voice gruff, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. 

you shifted on your feet, not meeting his eyes. “can i... stay here tonight?” you whispered, so soft he almost missed it. “i... i don’t want to be alone.” 

logan stared at you for a moment, torn between his instinct to tell you to go back to your own room and the strange, unfamiliar urge to protect you. finally, he just let out a heavy sigh, stepping aside to let you in. 

“fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just for tonight.” 

you nodded quickly, slipping past him and settling on the floor next to his bed, wrapping yourself in your blanket like a cocoon. he watched you for a moment, the way you curled in on yourself, small and vulnerable, before turning off the light and getting back into bed. 

but it wasn’t just for one night. 

you kept coming back, night after night, until your pillow and blanket became a permanent fixture in his room. logan didn’t say anything, just grunted in acknowledgment whenever you slipped in after dark, but he never turned you away. 

“you know you could just take the bed,” he said one night, half-asleep, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. 

you shook your head, though he could barely see it. “i’m fine here,” you whispered. “i don’t want to be a bother.” 

logan just huffed, turning over, but he didn’t press the issue. 

he didn’t realise how used to your presence he’d gotten until you weren’t there. 

you’d gone on a mission with some of the others, promising him you’d be careful, but he couldn’t shake the bad feeling gnawing at his gut. he tried to distract himself, burying himself in his usual routines, but everything felt... off without you trailing after him. 

when they brought you back, bruised and bloodied, something in him snapped. 

“what the hell happened?” he growled, stalking over to where hank was tending to your injuries, his fists clenched at his sides. 

“it was my fault, lo” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “i... i thought i could handle it.” 

logan just shook his head, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “you’re not fuckin’ ready for this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

you flinched, your ears flattening against your skull, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone. 

“dammit,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “i didn’t mean it like that. just... don’t scare me like that again, alright?” 

you looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, brimming with unshed tears, and he felt something tighten in his chest. 

“i just... i feel safe with you,” you whispered through your watery expression, so soft he almost missed it. 

logan’s expression softened, the anger draining from his face. 

“yeah, well,” he muttered, looking away, “you are. safer, i mean.” 

one night, as you were curled up next to him, your tail wrapped around his leg, you murmured something that made his breath hitch.

“i’ve never felt like this before... safe, i mean,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost lost in the darkness.

logan went still, his heart pounding in his chest, but he didn’t pull away.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice rough, unsure of where this was going.

you nodded against his chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin. “with you... it’s different. i don't feel like i have to look over my shoulder all the time. i’m not scared when i’m with you.”

he was silent for a moment, trying to process the weight of your words. the confession hung between you, fragile and tentative.

“you mean that?” he finally asked, voice gruff, his hands tightening around you just a bit.

“yeah,” you breathed out, turning to look up at him, eyes wide and honest. “you... you make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.”

logan swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting right through him. he wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew he didn’t want to mess this up.

“that’s all i need,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, and logan felt something warm and unbreakable settle in his chest.

logan swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting right through him. he wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew he didn’t want to mess this up.

“i don’t know what the hell i’m doin’,” he muttered, looking down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “but i’ll stick around if that’s what you want. i’ll try... for you.”

you smiled softly, leaning into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was still holding back, afraid to take the next step. so, you did it for him. with a hesitant breath, you lifted your hand to his face, gently tracing the rough line of his jaw with your fingertips.

“logan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. his eyes softened at the sound of his name, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something unspoken. 

slowly, he dipped his head, bringing his face closer to yours. you could feel the warmth of his breath, the way it hitched slightly, as if he was still unsure. but then his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking you. 

the kiss was gentle, almost shy, a stark contrast to the rough edges that usually defined him. his hands cupped your face so carefully, as if you were something precious and fragile, something he never wanted to lose. your eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping you as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth and tenderness he rarely showed to anyone else.

logan’s thumb brushed against your cheek, a silent question, asking if this was okay, if this was what you wanted. you answered by pressing closer, your lips moving against his in a slow, careful dance that spoke of trust, of finding solace in each other. 

when he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed. he stayed like that for a moment, just holding you, as if he was afraid that letting go would mean losing this fragile connection.

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, voice rough with emotion, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“maybe,” you whispered back, smiling softly, your eyes shining as you looked up at him. “but i think i found something special too.” 

logan just held you tighter, his lips ghosting over yours once more, a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

🌀 logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[besinaao3]

Craftsman Porch Idea for a sizable, screened-in back porch in the arts and crafts style with an addition to the roof

[hometoursandotherstuff]

NOOOOOOOOO! Why did they buy this gorgeous, 6bd, 4ba, colorful 5,340 sq ft, Hood River, OR home for $1,964,700 and do THIS:

OMG, let's revisit what it USED to look like before these charlatans bought it.

I could cry. It was so delightful.

There was a colorful, bright, dining room.

And, I wonder what they did w/that stove.

The kitchen had aisles of cabinetry with colorful cats capping the ends.

Love this room.

Look at the 2nd fl. addition they did.

Fabulous.

I don't even know if any of these architectural features remain.

Such lovely glass rooms.

So many light, sunny rooms with windows for great views.

Lots of built-in shelving in the large primary bedroom.

The home has shelves galore, which would've been perfect for an avid reader or someone with an extensive collection to display.

There is a real library, too. Look at the stacks.

This looks like a walk-in closet. Very elegant.

Look at the tile in this bath.

All of the bedrooms have windows w/beautiful views.

There was a home gym in the lower level, plus a rec room.

A colorful gazebo stood on the garage roof.

Delightful deck facing the Columbia River.

The evolution- When it was built in 1920, then it was renovated and colorful, and now, the latest reno in dark gray & brown.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/603-Sherman-Ave-Hood-River-OR-97031/84581523_zpid/?

google maps

[coco-loco-nut]

Hii!

Can I please ask for an angsty fic with Max, where the reader defends him from Jos after not finishing his race in Melbourne...idk if you remember when Max kept his helmet for four hours after a race because he was afraid of what Jos would have done to him after not winning...and the reader basically tells Jos to get lost even if she's like 5'4 and definitely not as intimidating as them both lol.

And then maybe after the win in Suzuka, they "reconcile" but she still reminds him to act right around her boyfriend, who's now a man and not a little boy he could pressure like he once did.

Sorry if it's too long!! Thanks for taking your time and reading my request!

Guard Dog

Pairing: Max x Reader

Summary: You are sick and tired of watching Max take Jos' shit

TW: verbal abuse

A/n: thank you soooo much for the rec, I love writing these out so much <3

requests open masterlist

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

"Maxie... are you okay?" you wait patiently by the door to his driver's room, careful not to barge in like Jos would, as you have for the past year since you first witnessed Jos' beratement of his son. He is sitting on the couch with his helmet between his hands. The fire causing an unpleasant start to the race, and you are just glad you got here first.

"I'm okay," his voice cracks and you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault," Max looks in your eyes, the fire brewing behind them. You were genuinely the sweetest girl he's ever met, and to get you mad took a lot. God help you if Jos shows up, you are tired of Max feeling bad even when he podiums.

"You're right, you didn't do anything wrong, the car failed you today," you stay calm, sitting beside him and cuddling into him. Max stays quiet, enjoying your warmth, and decompressing from the start. He can understand why the fans were so happy to see him lose, in fact, if he wasn't himself, he would join them. No, the fear of his father is what has him on edge. Rightfully so, because a few seconds later the door is slammed open again.

"Max, what the hell did you-" Jos starts and you launch yourself off the couch. Jos and Max were big guys, and you were average height for a woman, 5'6 or so, but you didn't seem like it in that moment.

"Shut the hell up and leave. You have nothing useful to say and you are going to shift blame to Max who had NO fault in the DNF," you snarl, setting yourself up as a barrier between the two, Jos still in the doorway and Max on the couch.

"Girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am Max's father, and I can-," You cut Jos off before he can continue.

"No, you aren't his father. A father doesn't talk to his son like that, you are simply a man who shares the same last name as Max. A father is someone like Carlos Sainz Sr or Lawrence Stroll. No, you are a man- sorry a boy in a man's body- who can't cope with the fact that he doesn't race anymore and wants the man who shares the same last name with him to be impossibly perfect and win every single race, even when the car breaks down." You sneer at the man. "You need to leave, before I call security and make them remove you," you don't back down, instead you step closer. Max watches in both awe and fear.

"I-"

"Leave, Jos, now. Don't make me repeat myself," you say, practically slamming the door behind him. You turn around and look at Max, seemingly calm and normal. He looks at you bewildered.

"That was the sexiest thing ever. Thank you, Schatje, you didn't have to do that," Max hugs you, a large weight off of his shoulders.

"Of course I did, who else will be your guard dog?" You smile at him, squeezing him tighter. "Now, get changed and get back to the garage," you tell Max, stepping out to the room. You let out a deep breath, surprised with how you treated Jos and stood up for Max. A couple minutes later, Max rejoins you, quickly stopping inside hospitality for a snack.

The two of you avoid Jos, going extremely low contact, not that he was trying to. Jos would never admit it, but he was embarrassed at how you spoke to him, and his retreat allowed him to ignore it. Instead, you and Max enjoyed your time together in Japan. The both of you were aware Jos was there, but chose to ignore it. After Max won, Jos warily approached the two of you.

"I wanted to congratulate you on winning. You drove well," Jos says stiffly, silently calling for a truce. You let Max take the lead on the conversation.

"Thank you," he says, feeling like a little boy again, but accepting the temporary truce.

"It was good seeing you Jos, but we need to go," you interject, sensing the still tense atmosphere. The older man, still a little scared of you despite your sweet demeanor, lets you go, not quite willing to cross you again.

"Love you, Maxie"

"Love you too, Schatje,"

[mydearzero]

bday sex w/ spencer?

thanks for the request! ♡♡

Hunger | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Penelope has decided enough is enough and throws Spencer a small birthday celebration. Your only duty was to pick up the cake. How could you have known the bakery would give you the wrong one? It's the first time you notice something off about Spencer. He has this look in his eyes you couldn't place, nor shake.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, oral sex (f rec), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, fluffy really, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.7K words

take a shot every time I say 'look'. This is also the second fic in a row where I mention he keeps his socks on during sex. idk why. he just seems the type, I suppose. it wasn't a conscious choice I made, it just happened - nik

"And you're picking up the cake, right?" Penelope's voice flooded through the speakers of your car. You chuckled at her frantic behaviour. 

"Yes, Penelope. I'm on my way to Spencer's now. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." 

After Spencer hadn't properly celebrated his birthday several years in a row, she insisted on throwing him a small party. She'd dragged you along in her shenanigans. 

Which is why there was currently a nondescript white box on the passenger seat of your car. You hadn't dared to open it, even to have a peek. Penelope would have your head if it spoiled in any way.

"Don't you dare drop it! I mean it!" She hung up after her empty threat. 

You drove into the parking garage and got out of the car. You walked around and picked up the cake with the utmost care, placing it on the roof and closing the door. You held the cake with both hands and took it to the apartment building. 

Penelope met you at the door, taking the box from your hands, putting it in the fridge and ushering you to 'Go sit somewhere and act normal!' 

"Calm down, Garcia. Derek's keeping him until at least 19:30. You'll be fine," JJ interjected. You turned to her, sharing a knowing look. If there was anything to love about Penelope, and believe me, there was a lot, then it was her complete devotion and commitment to make her friends happy. 

She got everything ready in the living room. Balloons, garlands, presents, the entire childhood dream. Derek gave Garcia a heads-up that they were bound to arrive any minute now. 

You walked into the kitchen and got the cake out of the fridge. You grabbed some plates, forks and knives and took everything to the living room. 

Spencer wasn't an idiot. He knew when Morgan was holding him hostage from his own apartment, his coworkers must've been planning something for his birthday. 

"Oh, I wonder what we'll find when we open the door," Spencer's joking voice could be heard through the door. The sound of keys entering the lock brought a large smile to your face. 

When he finally got to walk in the door, his suspicions were confirmed. 

The duo joined everybody eagerly awaiting the birthday boy. Penelope looked like she could implode from the excitement. You were sure that if you had enhanced vision, you'd be able to see her vibrate on the spot.

"Surprise!" 

Spencer was grinning from ear to ear. Derek clapped him on the back and guided him into the group. 

Penelope sat Spencer on the grandpa chair she'd situated in the middle of the room, placing a party hat on his head. She'd insisted on them. Even Hotch could not look stoic and rigid with the polka-dotted cone placed on his head. 

You walked from the commotion to go put the candles on the cake. You opened the candles, looked for the lighter and finally breached the seal on the white box holding the cake. The sight before you had you perplexed.

Happy Birthday Sexy!

Right. The hot pink cake with white frosting was most certainly not the one intended for Spencer. You let out an uneasy laugh and placed the candles anyway. Cake is cake, I guess. 

And it's not wrong. 

You lit the candles and walked over just as the others started belting their hearts out. Spencer cringed awkwardly like you're supposed to when people sing you Happy Birthday. You sought panicked eye contact with Penelope but to no avail. She was busy snapping pictures of the birthday boy from every angle. 

Spencer locked eyes with you as you set the cake down in front of him. Derek barked a laugh, obviously the first one to notice the mishap. "Way to be bold, mama!" 

Spencer gave him a confused glance before turning his eyes to the cake, mouth opening and closing a couple of times due to a loss of words. 

"Well, they do say "Aging like fine wine' for a reason," Emily snorted.

"What!? That's not the right cake!" Penelope exclaimed, turning to you. You gave her an apologetic expression, shrugging your shoulders. 

"They must've given me the wrong one at the bakery! I didn't want to mess it up, so I left the box closed. I'm sorry, Penelope. But hey, I'm sure it'll taste just fine." 

You cut into the cake and dealt out the slices. You contemplated giving the slice reading just the word 'Sexy' to Spencer and gave in. It couldn't do any harm. You brought it to him with a crude attempt at a wink. The man of the hour turned red, if only slightly. He took the cake, thanked you and tentatively tasted the frosting, eyes lighting up in delight. 

You swiped a finger through the frosting, putting it in your mouth and tasting it. You nearly had to stop yourself from wincing. My God, that's sweet. But Spencer seemed to love it, which was the crucial part. 

You caught his gaze, finger still resting between your lips. Your heart skipped a beat as an unreadable expression on his face before he ironed it out with a smile, raising his plate in a toast. You raised yours back, but your heart wasn't in it. 'What the hell was that?' You wondered as you took a proper bite of the overly sweet cake. 

Spencer's gaze had been on your face, his eyebrows furrowed in what seemed like worry. His mouth had been slightly agape. But it was his eyes that struck you. His pupils were dilated as they seemed to be filled with contemplation. 

The expression stuck with you. It wasn't one you'd seen before, not from Spencer. You tried to come up with the right words to describe it throughout the party. 

Emily handed you a drink, toasting to another year with Spencer. 

Intrigued? 

Penelope whispers in your ear, asking what you'd gotten Spencer as a present. 

Calculating, maybe? 

Rossi tells a life story, wishing Spencer a bright future with many similar experiences. 

It was almost ambitious. Or eager, perhaps. 

Whatever it was, it was burned into your brain. What made it so compelling was that Spencer clearly hadn't wanted you to see it, seeing how he schooled his expression the second he'd realized you were watching. 

You nursed your drink as your coworkers started trickling out of the apartment one by one. You shamelessly watched Spencer as he was engrossed in an animated conversation with Penelope. Emily took a seat next to you, following your gaze to the enthusiastic duo. 

She didn't have to speak a word. Years as colleagues and friends were bound to create an implicit form of communication. Add a bunch of profilers, and much went unspoken. You sighed and leaned against the cushions. 

"I don't want to hear it, Prentiss." 

She laughed fondly. "I'm just saying, I'm gonna be driving Penelope home soon. Just humour me and talk to him about it." 

"There's nothing to talk about," you dismissed. You looked down at your drink, refusing to meet her eye. 

"You really haven't been present at all tonight. What's got you in your head?" Emily put a hand on your shoulder. 

"It's nothing to be worried about, Em. I'm just overthinking. He gave me this look earlier, and it's frustrating me that I can't figure out what it meant," you shrugged. 

Emily looked contemplative. "He's been watching you, you know. Not just tonight. It's been a while since I've noticed, though he's really ramped it up." 

"What do you mean?" You wondered genuinely. 

"I don't know..." Emily started. "He just has this look on his face when he thinks nobody's watching. Believe me, you can ask JJ about it. She's seen it, too. We've talked about it." 

"What kind of look?" You asked, curious if it could've been the same thing you spotted earlier tonight. 

"I can't really describe it. I'd almost call it... Greed? Maybe? It's a bit off-putting if you ask me. It's only you, though." Emily shrugged, clearly holding back on her explanation. She seemingly weighed her options before continuing. 

"You want to know what I think, profiler to profiler?" Emily finally broke. You urged her to continue. 

"Objectively speaking, and only looking at the facts, I think it can only be described as hunger." The tone of her voice implied that it wasn't a silly implication she was making for the fun of it. 

"Hunger?" You asked, glancing at Spencer from the corner of your eye. 

"Yeah, hunger. And not the food kind." 

You choked on your drink at the implication. "Are you out of your mind? We're at his house, Emily!" You whisper-shouted. 

"Yeah, well, whether I tell you here or at the office, the jet, or any other place, the man looks at you like he's starved. You have desire, and then you have this. It's concerning, really."

Of all the things it could've been, hunger wouldn't have been your first guess. Emily sure picked a convoluted way of telling you he undressed you with his mind on the daily, according to her.  

You panicked a little when Emily got up from the couch, asking Penelope if she was ready to go home. You glared daggers at her. Don't leave me here with him! Not after what you said. 

You could make your exit now, but you'd seem too eager to 'have an out' if you went with them. 

Spencer thanked Penelope generously for the party. He was genuinely appreciative of all the thought and effort put into it. You bid your goodbyes to the girls, and with that, you were alone with Spencer. 

"Hi," he spoke softly, sitting opposite you on the couch. 

"Hey," you replied, laughing a little. You took a sip of your drink, which had gone flat. You put it on the table and turned back to Spencer. There it was again, the look. 

He observed every crevice of your face as you did his. Much like with Emily, your communication with Spencer often went unspoken. But you couldn't read him, and it bothered you. 

"What's with that look?" You finally dared to ask, ignoring Emily's implication. 

His eyebrows furrowed. "What look?" 

"The one you gave me just now. And earlier, after I gave you your cake. According to Emily, it's not the first time." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He didn't meet your eye, opting to pick at the threads of the couch. It was a lame attempt at deflection.

"Don't bullshit me, Spencer. You look like you want to eat me alive." 

Spencer bit his lip and seemingly calculated every possible outcome of the conversation. He shook his head in defeat, toying with his fingers. You awaited his answer, tension rising in your stomach.

"I guess that's one way to put it," he finally sighed, meeting your gaze. His eyes were intense. After his admission, you finally found the correct adjective.

Lust. 

Without a thought, you threw your body forward, putting your hands on the side of his face and bringing your lips to his. He kissed you back with a sense of desperation. Your hands went up to his hair, tugging experimentally. A low groan met your ears as Spencer pulled away. 

"Are you 100% sure about this? I don't think I can go back to how things used to be if we continue," Spencer admitted, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You leaned against it and closed your eyes, slowly nodding. 

"Yeah, Spencer. I want this, want you." He searched your expression for doubt or uncertainty, but only found conviction. 

He nodded. "Okay. Okay, lie back," he motioned to the armrest behind you. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Spencer noticed your questioning face and ran his fingers over your scalp, moving to speak into your ear. "So I can eat that pretty pussy of yours." 

Your breath hitched, scrambling to lie back as he'd instructed. Spencer's hands made quick work of your bottoms, leaving you exposed. You brought a hand to your face and closed your legs in embarrassment. 

"Hey, none of that. Let me see you," Spencer urged. You silently complied, opening your thighs and letting Spencer rest between them. He let out a soft moan at the sight of you already dripping. 

"Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous." Spencer complimented before running two fingers through your folds and collecting the fluid. He held them up, glistening in the dim light. He brought them up to your mouth. You didn't need any instructions, hesitantly opening up and sucking them in. 

Spencer groaned at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his fingers, feeling his cock quickly come to life after having been half-hard all night. You sighed in satisfaction at the tent forming in his slacks. 

"Couldn't think straight when I saw you try that icing. Looked so good sucking on your finger like that," Spencer revealed. So that's what the look had been for. 

He took his fingers from your mouth and brought them back down, pushing both inside without further preparation. He pumped them a couple times, trying to find the right angle. A low moan fell from your lips when he found it. Spencer grinned, adding his other hand to rub at your clit. 

"I think this is my new favourite look on you," he murmured. He moved his body back on the couch, bringing his face between your legs. He placed a string of small pecks on your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. 

You couldn't help but exclaim when his tongue finally licked an exploratory stripe between your folds. "Shit, Spencer!" 

He ate you out like a man starved, gazing up through his lashes to watch your face contort in pleasure. Your hands searched for something to steady yourself, finally finding their resting place in his mop of gorgeous curls. 

When he sucked harshly on your clit, your fingers clenched instantly, tugging at his hair harshly. "Fuck, Spencer, oh my God, don't stop." 

You felt him moan against your clit, head tilting towards your grip. He continued licking and sucking every good spot while you realized he enjoyed having your fingers yanking at the messy strands.

"Hmm, just as sweet as that cake, if not more." The feeling of his moans against you was a foreign, albeit welcome, one. You quickly felt yourself get closer, tugging his hair and pulling him impossibly close. You needed more.   

"Fuck, Spencer. If you don't stop, I'm gonna come," you let him know. Spencer had a devilish smile, increasing his speed. He added a finger back inside and curled it just right. 

"Shit, just like that. Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged. 

"Come for me," Spencer spoke, intent on having you finish on his face. You felt your toes curl and legs tense. Spencer's head was the only thing keeping them open. 

"Spencer!" You moaned as you rode out your high on his tongue. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Your legs felt numb as Spencer got up from between them. 

"You're wearing too many clothes," he decided, helping you tug your shirt over your head. 

"Well, what about you? You're fully dressed, Pretty Boy," you motioned towards his body. He shrugged and took off his vest before unhurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. You put your head on the armrest as you enjoyed the show. He smiled at your antics, humming Marvin Gaye's ' Let's Get It On' before carelessly throwing his shirt to the floor. 

He continued humming the song as he undid his belt. You bit your lip, raising an eyebrow at him to continue. He shook his head as he chuckled, tugging his pants down. You smirked at the sight of the tent in his black boxers. 

"You're not gonna take your socks off?" You looked towards his feet, clad in one hot pink and one neon green sock. 

"Shut up, my feet get cold easily." Spencer pleaded. You held up your hands in mock defence. 

You watched as his hands reached for the hem of his boxers. You stopped him, sitting up and hooking your fingers under the elastic. You looked up at him as you slowly tugged them down, freeing his cock. It was achingly hard, precum already collecting at the tip. He removed the boxers and softly pushed your back against the soft cushions. 

He leaned over you, putting his hands beside your head. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your lips. He grinned, and you felt love surge through your body at the admiration on his face. 

"Do you want to know what I wished for when I blew out my candles?" He asked, placing kisses down your jawline. 

"If you say you wished for me, I'm gonna have to get all the vegans out of your vicinity because that's so chees- Oh, fuck" Spencer cut your joke off by sucking on your neck, under your ear. 

"Hmm, I guess I won't tell you, then," Spencer threatened, reaching behind your back to undo your bra. He took the straps off your shoulders and down your arms, throwing the bra in the same direction he'd thrown his shirt. 

"No, tell me. What did you wish for," you urged. Spencer looked down, admiring your figure.

"This, you, under me, to be specific. Thought it would've made a very nice sight, and I was definitely right," he grinned, softly kneading your breast. He placed another kiss on your lips, and you were convinced you could get drunk on just that. 

Spencer bent further down, finally bringing your hips together. He ground down, and you winced, still sensitive from your orgasm. It felt too good, though. To finally have him where you wanted him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his lips to your roughly, kissing him with desperation. 

Spencer reciprocated, grinding his hips and moaning into your mouth. You pulled away to speak. "Please, Spence. Need you inside." 

"Protection?" He questioned, moving his mouth back to your neck and sucking feverishly. You shook your head. "Don't care. Need you now." 

"Good, because I don't have any in the house." Spencer groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed the tip inside, and you had to take a deep breath before he continued. 

"Shit, Spence. So big. Fuck, you're really full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Hmm, there's more where that came from," Spencer joked, groaning when he bottomed out. He allowed you to readjust, not being used to having anything his size inside of you. You brought your hands to his shoulders, fingernails gradually digging into his skin when you nodded at him to move. 

"Feel so good around me, f-fuck," Spencer moaned, closing his eyes. He slowly started moving. His hips snapped forwards, sending his cock deep inside of you. 

"Oh, fuck, oh my God," you moaned deeply.

"Perfect fit," Spencer sighed. "Like you were made just for me." His pace picked up as desperation set in. 

"J-just for you, Spence," you agreed. You wrapped your legs around his waist. The new angle made you throw your head back against the couch. 

Spencer trailed a hand down to your clit, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts. You wrapped your arms back around his neck and tugged him close, desperate to feel his lips again. You could understand how people got addicted if this is what it felt like all the time. You wanted to spend the rest of eternity with his mouth on yours. 

"So pretty. Had to have you. You've been driving me crazy for months," Spencer's voice was strained with effort as he spoke. 

"What do you think about me, doc? When you kept looking at me like that, kept finding subtle ways to touch me. I was going insane." 

Spencer smiled as the movement of his hips sped up. Your moans got higher in pitch. His breathing became laboured, losing himself in the pleasure. 

Moans of "So good," and "Fuck," joined your name in falling off his lips repeatedly. If there was any sound you could be met with in heaven, it would be Spencer moaning your name in pure bliss. 

"O-Oh, Spencer, please," you begged, unsure what for. You just needed more of him. Needed him closer. 

"Fuck, oh my, fuck-" Spencer sighed. His pace was frenzied, cock feeling so fucking good. 

"I-I'm close- Spencer," you informed him, eyes squeezing shut. The hand on your clit increased it's speed. You couldn't believe you were so close to coming so soon after your first orgasm. 

"Wanna cum inside you. Can I please cum inside you?" Spencer asked, groaning at the idea of you dripping with his cum. 

"Yeah, yeah, fuck. Please, cum inside me. Wanna feel you, shit, Spencer!" You moaned. 

 "O-oh," Spencer's hips stuttered as he exclaimed your name in a loud moan. The sensation of his cock pulsing sent you over the edge yourself, joining him in his climax. 

He thrust inside lazily a few more times, riding out his high, before slowly pulling out. You felt empty without him, grimacing at the loss of contact. Spencer leaned down and pecked your lips before getting off the couch and walking to the bathroom.  

He returned with a warm washcloth and a towel. He helped you clean up, all while kissing you everywhere he deemed fit. He ushered you to go pee, laughing at your wobbly legs. You threw a pillow at him for that. 

When you were both clean, he offered you a big, loose shirt to sleep in. You grinned at the implication. He hadn't even hesitated. Needn't even ask if you wanted to stay over. 

You tucked yourself under his cold sheets. He soon joined you, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you close. Spencer Reid, notoriously weird with any physical affection, seemed like an entirely different person once you allowed him to love you. And God, were you going to allow him to love you. 

"You know, it's still my birthday in Alaska," Spencer spoke when you were almost asleep. You snorted. "Good night, Spencer." 

"Good night." You could hear the smile in his voice.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Fly on my own - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angst, but it's worth it

wordcount: +3K

song rec: Ordinary People - John Legend (sugested by @goldenroutledge )

a/n: This story broke me to write it, but the final chapter is finally here. Hope you guys like ❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The ringing of his phone sliced through Lewis's concentration, startling him from his review of the upcoming season. His first at Ferrari.

He glanced at the caller ID, surprise following as he saw the name.

Y/n. Her name, a whisper on his lips, hanging heavy in the air.

He hesitated for a beat, the past months replaying in his mind like a cruel highlight reel.

The raw vulnerability in that garage, the unspoken promises left hanging, her sudden disappearance. Every unanswered message, every silent night, echoed with a question he hadn't dared to ask.

With a shaky breath, he pressed accept. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was barely a whisper, shaky and choked with emotion. "Lewis... it's me. Are you in Monaco?" A beat of silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions, before a desperate plea escaped her lips. "Please tell me you are."

Lewis's heart hammered against his ribs. "Y/n?" His voice was a low rumble, laced with concern at her tone. "What's wrong?"

He could practically hear her take a shaky relieved breath on the other end. "Can we talk? Now?" she rushed her question, almost as if she was about to regret it.

The urgency in her voice startled him. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that whatever had brought her back wasn't good.

Without another word, he blurted "Yeah, tell me where you are."

There was a brief pause before she replied “I’m outside your house”

He slammed the phone down, his mind already racing. As he threw open the door, his breath caught in his throat.

There she stood, Y/n, a contrast to the composed, confident woman he used to know. Her normally vibrant eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her flawless makeup smudged with tears.

But it was her white dress and the sight of her hand that stopped him cold.

A blinding diamond sparkled on her ring finger, the size of a small rock, impossible to miss. Symbols of a future that wasn't theirs, a life he hadn't been a part of.

For a moment, they stood there, a storm brewing in the silence between them. Y/n's gaze followed his and flicked towards the ring, pain crossing her face at the realization, then back to Lewis, her voice barely a choked sob as she took the ring off and threw it in her purse.

"Lewis" she started, her voice cracking, "I need to tell you something"

Lewis blinked, the sight of her vulnerability ripping through the carefully constructed walls around his heart. He stepped forward, concern overriding every doubt or anger he had "Y/n, what's wrong?"

He reached out, hesitating before gently ushering her inside. The moment they reached his living room and she turned to him she really saw her.

Her composure shattered entirely, fresh set of tears streaming down her face, her body wracked with silent sobs.

Lewis pulled her down on the sofa and knelt before her, his hand hovering over hers, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and a yearning he couldn't quite explain. "Hey," he murmured, his voice rough. "Whatever it is, you're safe now."

But the words felt hollow even to him. Safe from what?

Lewis stood there, feeling the weight of the months they had spent apart, the words unsaid, the emotions left hanging. He had a million questions, but seeing her so broken tore at him, leaving him feeling helpless.

He waited patiently until she finally looked up, her eyes a reflection of the storm inside her. "I need to start from the beginning," she croaked, her voice raw with emotion. "I need you to understand why I'm here, Lewis. Why I ran in the first place."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, the white of Lewis's light apartment blurring with the memory of that night in the garage. The harsh overhead lights mirrored the coldness that had settled in her gut.

"I begged you to let me go" she whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

It hadn't been easy, admitting her fear. Her world, her future, had always been mapped out, a neatly paved road with clear expectations of the strong woman she had been raised to be.

But Lewis, with his intensity and the way he challenged everything she thought she knew, had been a wild detour, a thrilling adventure she wasn't sure she could handle.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, his smell and his taste that night, make her head spin again. His voice echoed in her mind. "Y/n, are you sure? This isn't something you can take back."

But the fear, the sheer terror of letting go of who she was supposed to be, had been overwhelming. "I need time" she had choked out, her voice betraying her resolve.

He had cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a wayward tear. It was a simple gesture, yet it was enough for her to lose all control.

Their gazes locked, the unspoken tension crackling between them. She saw a depth of emotion in Lewis's eyes that she'd never witnessed before in anyone else, a vulnerability that mirrored her own.

And then, their lips met.

A spark that ignited a wildfire. The world around them seemed to fade away, the only reality the press of his lips against hers. An explosion of emotions, a heady cocktail of bravery until fear took over, and it all started to taste like what a forbidden passion does.

It had been a terrifying confirmation of what she'd been desperately trying to deny. The intensity, the way a single kiss had her ready to throw everything away, how it could send her thundering like a drum solo, was more than she was prepared for.

She pulled away abruptly, gasping for breath, the taste of him still lingering on her lips. Shame and fear warred within her. "I can't," she stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Lewis's brow furrowed; confusion etched on his face. "Y/n?"

She couldn't look at him, the whole thing overwhelming. "I need to take you up on your offer," she choked out, referring to his suggestion of giving her time to think.

"But..." Lewis started, his voice almost a whisper, but she cut him off.

"No goodbyes, Lewis. Please," she pleaded; her voice thick with unshed tears she was trying to hold. "Just let me go."

And she fled. Slipped out of the garage into the cool night air, leaving Lewis behind with nothing but unanswered questions and the echo of a kiss.

"It was too much, Lewis," she whispered coming back to his living room and finding his gaze, the memory of that kiss still imprinted in both of their lips. "The way you made me feel... it scared me. Because I knew if I let myself dream about you I could never move on. I begged you to let me go because I couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me to figure out what this is.”

Her voice choked on a sob as the weight of her actions settled on her shoulders. For weeks, she'd convinced herself it had been the right decision, the safe one. But the emptiness that had followed her every step told a different story.

Lewis's hand tightened around hers, trying to ground her, to show her they were in the present now. "Y/n, I didn't want to scare you. I just wanted you to know you had a choice."

Her tears flowed freely now. "I took your offer, you know? To think things through. But every time I wanted to run back to you. And it scared the living days out of me. I ran because I was scared of how much you meant to me, of how much I felt for you."

She paused, her breath hitching as she fought for control. The raw vulnerability in her eyes cutting through him. "I got into self-defense mode. I’m sorry."

Lewis's heart ached with the memory of watching her walk away, the emptiness that followed her departure. He had tried to contact her, to understand, but her silence had been deafening.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You could have told me. We could have faced it together."

She shook her head, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "Except I couldn't. I was too scared, I wouldn’t let anyone in, not even you, specially not you."

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of the distance her fear had created.

"Y/n, why now?" he asked, his voice confused and hurt. "Why are you telling me this now, after all this time?"

Her eyes met his, filled with a mixture of desperation and hope. "Because I can't live with the what-ifs anymore. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with the life I chose. I need you to know what happened for me to end up here. Why I chose him, Why I ran from you”

He retracted his hand, his heart clenching at the vulnerability in her voice. "Alright," he said, forcing a calmness he didn't quite feel.

Y/n took a shaky breath, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "I went back home, and a couple weeks later Francis showed up..." her voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Lewis nodded, his jaw clenched tight. He knew who she was talking about.

"He was everything I thought I needed," Y/n continued, her voice flat. "We understood each other, came from similar backgrounds. It was... comfortable."

She paused, her gaze searching his face. "There were no sparks, Lewis. No butterflies. There were no cliffs, no dizzying heights. Just solid ground."

Lewis felt a pang of jealousy twist his gut, but he pushed it down, focusing on her words. "But you chose him," he stated, his voice low.

Y/n winced at his tone but nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Everyone was happy. Especially his parents. Except for my dad." A flicker of defiance sparked in her eyes.

"He didn't say much," she continued, "but the night we told him about the engagement, there was this… look in his eyes. Like a part of him wished I'd chosen differently."

A memory flashed in her mind, a memory of her father's gruff words, spoken in the quiet solitude of his study only for her to hear.

"You can have your perfect life, Y/n," he'd said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But part of me... a selfish part, I suppose... would rather see you fall headfirst. Fall for something so passionate, so all-consuming that it scares the hell out of you. That's how I raised you, wasn’t it not, my darling?"

Y/n's eyes focused back on Lewis as she felt his hand on her knee, her voice breaking as she continued. "I was trying to do what was expected, to follow a path that seemed more predictable. We got engaged, and it almost a formality at that point, really. But The planning, the party, the guests. Every detail felt like I was building my own gilded cage."

Lewis watched her, his anger giving way to a painful understanding. "When did you realize it wasn't what you wanted?"

She looked down at her hands, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Right after putting on this dress this morning…for the engagement party.”

Lewis's eyes widened. "You ran away from your engagement party?"

Y/n's reflection in the mirror became a distorted image of a stranger. She ripped off the diamond necklace, its clatter against the marble vanity echoing the turmoil within. Tears streamed down her face, blurring the perfect picture of the perfect porcelain doll.

This wasn't her happily ever after. This polished, perfect persona wasn't who she was meant to be. It was a mask, hiding the yearning for something real, something raw, something that terrified her.

This was someone else's dream she was sleepwalking through.

With trembling legs, she reached her father's study, just on the other side of her room.

His voice, gruff yet familiar, filled the space as he took her in. "Y/n?"

"Dad," she choked out, her voice strangled "I can't… I can't do it."

A beat of silence stretched between them, then a sigh. "Sweetheart…"

Y/n poured everything out – the suffocating engagement, Francis's bland kindness, the yearning for something more, even if it meant falling. There were pauses, a choked sob on her end, but her father listened patiently.

When she finished, another sigh escaped him. "Remember what I told you? You can’t learn to fly until you take the leap, Y/n." he said finally, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"What do I do now, dad?" The tears evident in how her words came out in small puffs

"You fly, sweetheart. As far, and for as long as you need” his fingers trying to dry away the tears still falling.

"But what if Lewis’s not there to catch me?" The fear raw in her voice.

"Then you learn to fly on your own" her father said, his voice surprisingly firm.

The next hour was a whirlwind of activity. Her father pulled strings, booked a private jet, and cleared customs within an hour. As she stood on the airport, the roar of the engines a physical manifestation of her heartbeat, a pang of guilt stabbed at her.

She was leaving behind a future that was comfortable, secure, expected. Leaving her family, her friends, her entire life. Yet, the prospect of facing Lewis, of confessing her love and potentially being rejected, paled in comparison to the suffocating emptiness of the life she was running from.

She nodded, tears flowing freely. "I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't marry him when all I could think about was you." She said, her voice finally clear as if that was the only part of it all she was certain of.

"I flew here because I needed to see you," she continued. "To tell you everything, to take the leap I was too scared to take before. I needed you to understand why I did what I did, and to see if you could forgive me."

Lewis's breath caught in his throat. "So, this is your leap."

Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. "Am I crazy for doing this? Do I have to learn to fly on my own, Lewis?"

He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek, wiping away the tears. "Y/n, I... I don't know what to say."

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. "Just tell me how you feel. Tell me if there's still a chance for us."

The question hung in the air, a plea for him to catch her, to be the safety net she desperately needed.

Lewis stared at her, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions – surprise, relief, a yearning so raw it scared him. He saw the vulnerability in her tear-streaked face, the fear battling with the fierce determination.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached out his other hand to cup her face, his touch gentle yet firm. His gaze held hers, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt, any hesitation.

"Y/n," he murmured, his voice husky and eyes glossy. "Are you sure? Because once I start..."

She didn't let him finish. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was liberating. This wasn't the tentative touch of that night in the garage, fueled by fear and confusion. This was raw, a confession spoken in the language just the two of them could understand.

Lewis pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her like a lifeline. He held her tightly, as if afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, she might disappear again.

The kiss deepened, a tangle of emotions pouring forth – fear, relief, a desperate hope for a future they could build together.

As they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Y/n leaned her forehead against his. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic thumping echoing her turmoil within.

A wry smile tugged at Lewis's lips as he gazed at her, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear clinging to her cheek. "So," he began, his voice a low rumble, "about taking things slow..."

Y/n let out a shaky chuckle, a single tear escaping and tracing a glistening path down her cheek "After all that, is 'slow' still an option?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

The amusement in Lewis's eyes deepened. He knew she was right. This wasn't something they could afford to pace themselves for. This was a collision, their own little big bang that had finally found its release.

He leaned down again, his lips hovering a breath away from hers. "Then," he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "let's see where this freefall takes us."

The Tuscan sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the rolling vineyards surrounding Y/n’s family villa that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.

Lewis sat on a weathered stone bench in the back garden, a glass of chilled prosecco sweating lightly in his hand. Laughter drifted in from the open kitchen window, where workers laughed around, the familiar scent of garlic and rosemary teasing his nose.

Across from him, Y/n's father leaned back in his chair, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "Another win, Lewis" he said, his voice tinged with a playful amusement Lewis had grown used to. "You're making quite a name for yourself at Ferrari, my boy."

Lewis chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "We try, sir. It's a team effort, most of all."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Of course, of course. But a good driver can only make a good car go so far. It’s something to have someone like you on the family, a multiple times champion dressed in red."

Lewis caught the hint, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/n's father, once a formidable figure of quiet disapproval, had become a surprising source of support, a man who saw not just the driver, but also the man who loved his daughter fiercely.

"What exactly do you mean, sir?" Lewis feigned innocence.

"Well," the elder drawled, leaning forward conspiratorially, "a little birdie told me you've been spending a lot of time at a famous Milan jeweler lately, someone known for custom rings."

Lewis's smile widened. Y/n’s father’s network of informants was legendary, but somehow, when it came to Y/n, it didn't seem so intrusive anymore." I haven't quite found the perfect design just yet, but soon." he admitted, a playful defiance in his voice.

A slow grin spread across his face. He knew Lewis was nervous, still a little hesitant around a man who could buy and sell him ten times over. But he also saw the way Lewis loved his Y/n with a fierceness that mirrored his own.

"You know," the elder began, his voice turning serious, "I never thought I'd see the day I'd approve of a man who spends most of his time speeding around corners at breakneck speeds."

Lewis chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I’d never thought you would either."

"You and Y/n. You two were quite the storm when you first started seeing each other. A whirlwind of clashing worlds and stubborn personalities." He agreed, taking a thoughtful sip of his drink.

Lewis couldn't help but grin at the memory. It had been a wild ride, there were fights, misunderstandings, and moments when he'd questioned his own ability to let her be just the woman he loved and make her happy.

"But you weathered the storm," her father continued, his voice filled with a quiet pride. "You learned to compromise, to see the world through each other's eyes. That's more than most couples can say."

Lewis looked at him, a wave of gratitude washing over him. "Thank you, sir. We both learned a lot."

The elder chuckled. "I thought I had showed her everything she needed to know. But you…you gave the security for her to fly and know she has someone to fall back to. I could never do that. She’s always been fearless, and something else entirely, but she’s never been so carefree."

"Are you sure you're ready for a lifetime with her? She can be quite a handful, you know." he continued, his gaze sharpening playfully.

Lewis met his gaze, his eyes radiating a quiet confidence. "She's the only handful I want, sir. I can't see my life in any other way."

Just then, the roar of an engine echoed through the air, growing louder as it approached. Lewis and her father exchanged a surprised glance. The roar cut off abruptly, replaced by the unmistakable rumble of a vintage engine. Lewis's lips curved into a knowing smile.

Around the corner of the villa sped a wine colored Mercedes-Benz 190SL, its chrome catching the last rays of the setting sun. The top was down, sunglasses perched on her head, and a wide grin plastered across Y/n's face as she expertly maneuvered the classic car into a controlled stop in front of them.

Her father burst into laughter. "Well, well, well," he boomed, his amusement evident. "Looks like someone brought a little competition for the driveway."

Y/n hopped out of the car, her laughter tinkling as she threw her arms around Lewis. "Surprise!" she exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Just picked her" she gestured towards the car, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Wine red, huh? Quite the entrance, love."

Y/n smirked. "Just making sure you know who has the real classic taste around here."

The elder shook his head, equally amusement and exasperated. "You two and your competitive spirit. It never quite goes away, does it?"

Lewis and Y/n exchanged a playful glance. Theirs was a love built on respect, passion, and a healthy dose of friendly competition. It had been a long road to get there, but they knew that at the end of the day they were ready to catch the other.

Her father lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper leaning towards Lewis. "Don't let her fool you though. That smile hides a fierce negotiator. Be prepared to fight your ground on the restoration costs."

Lewis chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through him. He looked at Y/n, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and mischief.

As Y/n led Lewis towards the car, his hand brushed on her ring finger in a silent promise, one her father certainly caught on to, one he knew, from that moment two years prior, he would make sure to fulfil, every day.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

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[crappy-writings]

Safe

Maria HillxReader // Angst/Fluff

*Image is not mine, credit to its creator

Summary: When the Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. Facility is destroyed and you’re trapped under the rubble, Maria has to balance her job as Deputy Director and her relationship with you.

Trigger Warnings: FwB relationship (mentioned), Cursing, Guns, Death, Anxiety, Hospitals, Injuries, Amputation (mentioned), I think that’s it.

No pronouns for the reader were used, I think

Word Count: 6,970

A/N: Thanks to this Reddit thread for helping me figure out the timeline of The Avengers, as well as all the Marvel Wiki pages I visited, lol

Anyways, I'll forever be mad at Secret Invasion for doing my girl so dirty, so I'm jumping back to 2012 Avengers. Don't know if this sucks, so constructive criticism is always welcome.

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

May 2nd, 02:47 hrs

“Sir, evacuation may be futile,” Maria says as she steps down the stairs, right on Fury’s heels. “We should tell them to go back to sleep?” Fury turns his head towards her while still descending the stairs. “If we can’t control the Tesseract’s energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance,” she argued.

“I need you to make sure the Phase Two prototypes are shipped out,” Fury orders as he reaches the entrance to where the Tesseract was being kept. “Sir, is that really a priority right now?” she asks incredulously. 

“Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on,” he says, turning towards her, his tone leaving no room to argue, “Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase Two on a truck and gone.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says as she passes him by. She had her orders. “With me,” she orders the men who stood at either side of the door as she descends into the lower levels of the facility.

“Dispatch any available teams to the underground levels. Clear out any and all remaining Phase Two prototypes,” she speaks into her communicator. To say that Maria did not agree with focusing on the Phase Two prototypes would be an understatement. If anything, determining a minimum safety distance should be top priority, if there even is one. If not, destroying the Tesseract would be a better option. Regardless of what she thought though, she trusted Fury to know what he was doing. He is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a reason.

“Copied, two additional teams have been dispatched,” the deep voice of an agent rang through her communicator.

The two dispatched teams were already there by the time she arrived at the underground lot, yours being one of them. She takes in a deep breath and subtly braces herself. She was hoping she would not be running into you for at least a few days. 

The two men who came down with her began helping both teams with the prototypes. You load up a few boxes before closing the trunk of the truck, the slam echoing throughout the underground garage. 

“Davidson, you’re driving this one,” you said as you threw a set of keys to one of the agents. Davidson catches the keys easily. “Menendez, Martinez, and Lee, you’re going up with Davidson. Gold leader is already waiting topside.” 

“You,” you point to one of the new arriving agents, “What’s your name?”

“Agent Callahan,” the man you pointed at responded. 

“I’ll have you join Davidson,” you order as you turn to the other agent, “what about you?” 

“Agent Moore,” the agent replied. You nod in acknowledgement, “You’re joining my team in the meantime.” 

The five agents jumped inside the truck and began transporting the prototypes to the surface. 

“Harris, you’re driving that one over there once it’s loaded up. Williams, Parker, Garcia and Moore are going with you. Bennett, you’ll be riding with me,” you continue giving out orders, “Gold leader is waiting for us before moving to the established rendezvous point.”

As you turn to load more boxes, you notice the Deputy Director standing between the cylindrical columns of the large underground parking space. Your gaze lingered on her for a few moments before grabbing one of the small crates and putting it in the truck. Maria noticed this but ignored it. She cannot afford to be distracted by you and this… fling.

She did not know how to describe your relationship as it stood.

“Keep loading boxes, I’ll be back in a minute,” you tell your team, before climbing up the platform and standing beside her.

 “Most of the equipment has already been moved, Gold leader’s team is en route, and my team is taking care of the last few boxes. This should be the last truck from this level and Red and Blue leader reported their levels are cleared. We should be out of here in no more than eight, ten minutes,” you report, crossing your arms over your chest as you oversee your team along with her. 

“Make it five,” she says without looking at you, “I want everyone out of here as quickly as possible.” Her posture remained stiff beside you, and you couldn’t help but be upset by that. 

“Have you thought about what I told you?” you ask quietly. Her posture does not ease. She instead inhales sharply.

 “Yes,” her tone was tense, her answer short. “And?” you prodded after a few beats of silence. “I don’t know,” she answers. 

You sigh in disappointment, but you were not surprised. For as long as you’re known the woman beside you, her main focus has always been her job. You knew this going into this ‘relationship.’ The “friends with benefits” thing had been working out just fine. You met up whenever you wanted to, did whatever you wanted to with no strings attached. But just like one of those cliché movies you sometimes watched, you caught feelings for the woman who had become now more closed off than ever. 

Despite your attempts to keep your changed feelings hidden, she had noticed the subtle shift in your actions, gestures and the way you spoke to her. You yourself did not think you were doing anything different, but apparently, you were wrong. She asked you if anything had changed and you were honest. You told her your feelings about the arrangement had changed and were wanting something more with her, if she agreed. You were foolish for bringing it up at all to her.

She began to shut you out almost immediately, much to your anger and disappointment. Thus, you offered her a sort of ultimatum. She was to decide what she wanted out of the ‘relationship’, out of you, but if she could not, you would call everything off and you would go your separate ways.

The echo of a trunk closing snaps you out of your thoughts. The truck’s engine turns on and you watch as Harris and the other assigned agents drive out of the lot. “Green leader, do you copy?” your comms buzzed with the other team leader’s voice. “Yes, Gold leader, I copy. The remaining prototypes are already en route to topside. Do we have the green light?” you ask. 

“Yes, we do. We are awaiting you and the rest of our teams to arrive up here to head for the rendezvous. See you in a few minutes.”

“Will do Gold Leader, expect us in about 10 minutes, over and out,” you shut off your comms device. You take a deep breath before turning to her, your face serious. 

“I need an answer soon, Hill. I don’t like wasting my time,” you say quietly before straightening up and leaving her side.

“Alright Bennett, hop in, time to go,” you announce loudly as you jump down from the platform, “Let’s go!” 

Maria watches you hop into one of the unattended Jeeps and turn on the ignition. Her tense shoulders loosen up, but her jaw does not unclench. You began to drive as soon as Agent Bennett sat beside you. Her eyes trail after you as the car leaves the parking space.

“So,” Bennett draws out the word casually. “No,” you shut it down quickly.

“You and the Deputy Director?” he pressed on, a smirk creeping up on his lips. “No,” you insisted. 

“That’s a yes.”

“Bennett,” you say warningly. He did not take your tone seriously, knowing that it was all in good fun. Except that it was not very fun for you.

“HR would have a field day with the both of you. Do you think she would get suspended for it? Would you get suspended? Oh, do you think Fury knows?” he pressed on, going off on a tangent now like a gossiping hen. 

“Adrian Bennett, if you don’t shut up now, I will suspend you for spreading rumors,” you say in a serious tone, your grip on the wheel getting tighter.

“Oh, come on boss, it’s all in good fun,” Bennett replies, nudging your shoulder good-naturedly. 

“For you, maybe. Besides, there’s nothing going on between the Commander and me. So, don’t go spreading that around,” you say firmly. Part of you feared that your voice would betray you as you spoke those words, but you managed to keep your tells in check.

“Alright, whatever you say, boss.”

But what he said had struck a chord in you. Had you really been that obvious? You weren’t a spy after all, you were a soldier. Your confusing, undisclosed “relationship” with Hill could get you both in a huge amount of trouble.

You cast your thoughts aside. She could very well choose to end what you have, reject any potential future involvement with you. You sigh softly, opting to focus on the winding tunnel ahead of you.

“Thinking about your girlfriend?”

“Adrian.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m done.”

You watch as a few cars come into view from your rearview mirrors. It wasn’t until the sound of gunshots echoed within the tunnels that you figured out something was wrong. A blue flash of energy flew towards one of the cars, obliterating it in the process. 

“What the fuck?!” you yell as you watch the remains of the car lose control, going up a ramp and flipping over. The destroyed vehicle swung slightly, stilling in a parallel position, blocking the other cars that had followed behind. 

“Do I shoot?!” Bennett asks as he pulls out his firearm, waiting on your orders. “Stay vigilant but don’t engage yet!” you tell Bennett as you reach for the communicator on your hip.

“Agent Hill, we’re in line of a hostile force, do we engage?!” you yell into your comms as you continue to drive forwards, speeding up as you go. The earth beneath your vehicle began to shake violently. 

“Engage, if possible, but focus on getting out, I won’t have any heroes tonight,” the strained voice of Maria crackles through. The hostile force’s vehicle passes you by, and Bennett trains his gun on it. 

“No heroes, Bennett,” you remind him, but watch the vehicle for any hostility. A man dressed in strange clothes sat in the cargo bed of the truck. He looked ill, but his eyes were fierce. A man on a mission.

 A few moments later, a truck skidded into the tunnel, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. The car drifts, turning in a half circle to face the hostile force. Both vehicles collided, the backwards facing car attempting to slow down the hostiles. Shots flew from each vehicle, which prompted Bennett to shoot, too.

The strangely dressed man looked at the both of you, his eyes holding a cold determination. He pointed a bright gold staff at you and your eyes widened. Before anything could happen though, the hostile’s vehicle began swerving from side to side, shaking off the truck that was blocking its path. 

The driver recovered control quickly though and continued in hot pursuit. What sounds like a crackle of thunder follows closely behind you, much to your confusion. You stare through the rearview mirrors and watch as the tunnels begin to collapse, and it's gaining on you, fast. 

You press all the way down on the gas pedal, the vehicle lurching forwards with renewed ferocity. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the string of swears leaves your mouth as the tunnel collapse seemed to be faster than your car ever could. 

“Fuck!” you scream as a large piece of the underground structure falls right in front of you. You turn the wheel hard in the attempt to dodge it to no avail. The rest of the structure continues to crumble, and you lose control of your vehicle. There was little you could do as the jeep was headed for what used to be a stone ceiling. You press down hard on the breaks and turn the wheel to the side. You crash against it, but not as hard as you expected. The last thing you see is what remains of the ceiling crashing on top of you as you raise your arms over your head.

Maria eventually abandoned her focus on trying to stop Barton and the hostile force. It would be all for naught if she was dead. She pressed down as hard as she could on the gas pedal, the vehicle going as fast as it could. It was not fast enough as the collapsing tunnel caught up to her.  

Maria’s head throbbed as she shifted from her position inside the trapped vehicle. She could feel blood dripping from her nose and fresh bruises forming in her arms and legs. The adrenaline from the chase was beginning to give out, exhaustion settling deep in her bones. She looked over the shifting rubble and debris of the now collapsed tunnels.

Did you manage to escape? She doesn’t remember seeing you or your jeep get out before she had. 

“Green leader, do you copy?” Hill spoke evenly into her communicator. She was met with the silent crackle of her device. “Green leader, do you copy?” she repeats herself, quietly begging for your response. Silence. Your name leaves her lips, dropping all formalities, her voice strained, “are you there?” 

There was still no answer from you. She began switching between radio frequencies, catching different snippets of reports as she did.

“--underground tunnels have colla–”

“--er coming in, several men are dow–”

“--act has been stolen from—”

She continued switching between frequencies until Coulson’s voice rang through her communicator, “Director? Director Fury, do you copy?”

“The Tesseract is with a hostile force. I have men down. Hill?” Fury’s voice quickly followed.

“A lot of men still under. I don’t know how many survivors.” She says, breathing heavily as she climbed out of her mangled vehicle. The image of you being trapped under all this debris and rubble flashed before her eyes. Her heart momentarily stops, worry pulsing in waves throughout her body.

“Sound a general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase,” Fury instructed.

“Roger that.”

“Coulson, get back to base. This is a Level Seven. As of right now, we are at war.”

Maria clenched her jaw as she processed the last few words. She knew what this meant, what was to come. Despite this, her thoughts wandered to you.

She finishes climbing out of the truck on shaky legs and moves past giant blocks of stone and rubble. Hill switched back to the channel you had last spoken through. She uses your call sign once more; it had dawned on her that, after the collapse, a signal might be non-existent, but she was still hoping to hear an answer. Once more, she was met with dreadful silence.

She calls out your name again, soft and anxious, “please be okay.”

May 2nd, 16:00 hrs, 14 hours later…

The Helicarrier was teeming with life, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents running around in preparation for the arrival of Fury’s new team. The Director had stepped out to recruit Steve Rogers himself, while the Black Widow had been pulled off mission to retrieve Dr. Banner and Agent Coulson had been sent to grab Tony Stark. 

Maria walked around the bridge, looking over the monitors of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents below her. Various agent profiles appeared on a few of the screens, other monitors occupied by mission reports, schematics, maps and graphics. 

Your picture on one of the monitors made her pause, a wave of anxiety courses through her body. She would not let it show though, presenting herself as the poster child of levelheadedness. She swallows hard as she walks closer to the monitor, crouching down beside the agent overlooking the incoming report. 

Her chest tightened when she saw you were still M.I.A. “What’s the status of the search and rescue?” Maria asks, subtly clenching her jaw as she stares at your picture. 

“It’s been slow, only about 31% of missing agents have been recovered, both dead and alive,” the agent, a short blonde, reported somberly, “There’s a lot of ground to cover and there are not enough teams available to work the mission.”

“Keep me updated,” Maria told the agent as she rose from her crouched position, “I want any and all new developments sent to my datapad.” 

“Yes, Commander.”

Maria returned to her position overseeing the main deck. She stared back down at the Main Deck Data Panels, overlooking the Helicarrier’s systems, routing ground teams for the search of Barton and setting up preparations for the Director’s team. Despite her attempts to focus on the influx of reports on Barton, Loki, and the status of Fury’s team, her mind would wonder and think of you. You, trapped under the rubble in the Jeep. You, potentially hurt. Potentially dead. A cold dread settled over chest as those thoughts consumed her mind.    

She stared down at the datapad, switching over to read the names of agents recovered from the facility.

Rodriguez, Vivian, M.I.A.

Porter, William, M.I.A.

Fitzgerald, Liliam, K.I.A.

Harris, Augustus, M.I.A.

Greene, Emiliano, Recovered.

She did not know what was worse, the fact that she had still not found your name on the list, or finding it and potentially reading K.I.A. The longer you went without being found, the less likely it would be a rescue and more of a recovery mission. She pushes the thought away. You will be fine. You are alive. You have to be.

“Commander,” Fury’s booming voice startles her out of her thoughts. 

“Yes, sir?” she asks, her voice firm, hiding having been caught off focus. She had not been informed that the Director had already returned to the Helicarrier. 

“Any progress on the Tesseract or Loki?” he asked, his voice stern. 

“Nothing yet, nothing has been reported on the ground and the techs are still in process of tapping all wireless cameras,” Hill reports as she looks up from her datapad.

“What about the rescue at the facility?”

“33% of agents have been rescued. About 12% of those have been found dead, but that statistic is slowly rising.”

The Director gave no reaction other than taking a deep breath. He raised his head slightly and his face remained neutral.

“Sir, due to those statistics, I want to reassign a few teams to aid in the search and rescue mission,” she states firmly. She held her head high and her posture straight. For a second, your face flashed in her mind and her heart sank a little deeper in her chest.

She was not doing it just for you. It was also for all the agents still trapped under the rubble and them being able to continue living their lives. That is what she was telling herself at least, feeling slightly guilty of the selfish part of her that was focused on you, and only you. Yet, for all she knew, you might already be dead. 

The thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably. She did not want to picture you trapped in those tunnels, crushed under the weight of an entire building. A heavy feeling made her heart sink to her stomach. Was there something she could have done to avoid this?

“Pull the remaining S.P.E.C.T.R.U.M. team and reassign them to the search and rescue, but that is all I can afford to compromise.” 

“Yes, sir,” A wave of relief momentarily soothed the drowning feeling in her heart. She began to walk away, to give the new orders before Fury called out for her once more.

“And Hill? I need you here,” Fury gives her a pointed, knowing look. The look made her somewhat nervous, but she nonetheless acknowledged him with a sharp nod, before returning to her position and reassigning the rest of your team for the search and rescue.

May 3rd, 20:37 hrs, 42 hours later…

Maria’s feet dragged her to her quarters, having been relieved of duty about ten minutes earlier. The last twelve hours had been rough, but the search for Loki had finally paid off. He was located at a gala in Stuttgart, Germany and Fury’s assembled team for the Avengers Initiative had just been dispatched to retrieve the Trickster god.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep and despite having just gotten off duty, her job was not quite done. She sat on top of her cot, her datapad in hand as she watched the stream of recent mission reports and updates on Barton and Loki. After reading those, she began looking through the recovery list, dread settling in her stomach once more. She scrolled through hundreds of agents' names, the status pinned right beside them.

Smith, Jonathan, K.I.A.

Badillo, Sarah, K.I.A.

Sullivan, Nina, K.I.A.

Pruny, Charlie, Recovered

Barrett, Daniel, K.I.A.

Maria swallowed hard as she continued to read the names of both fallen and recovered agents. She knows this is what happens in this line of work. She knows that as much as S.H.I.E.L.D. invests in making sure their agents come back safe, it is not a guarantee and that casualties are not something that can be avoided. There was still a lingering feeling of guilt and profound sorrow, knowing that not everyone gets to come back.

She rubs her eyes, trying to stave off the tiredness that settled into her bones. Your name has still not popped up on any of the reports, you are still missing. The sick feeling she had become well acquainted with returned. 

You cannot be dead. She refuses to believe that. Your last meeting replayed in her head. The disappointment and frustration in your eyes were burned into her mind. Your ultimatum rang inside her head.

Your face would appear every time she closed her eyes. She longed to see your smile again. For your eyes to sparkle with mischief, to feel your warm hand in hers. She wants to hear you laugh at a stupid joke. She missed the sound of your voice, the curve of your nose, the quirk of your lips. She missed you. She cannot lose you, not now, not yet. She loved you, you didn’t know that she lo–

Oh. Oh.

She was in love with you. 

The realization hit her like a bullet to the chest. She was in love with you. She had been so caught up in her job, so caught up in her own responsibilities, she never once realized how her own feelings had changed towards you. Part of her felt like a hypocrite. She had called you out on the near imperceivable changes in your behavior, but she had not realized how her own feelings had changed. How did she not realize it before?

She tries to think back to the last time she felt this way about someone. Has she ever felt that way before? She remembered her past relationships, having crushes and a bit of infatuation, but those had never developed into love.

She had always been married to her job. When she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., she worked tirelessly to prove her worth as an agent. She rose through the ranks through hard and consistent work, becoming quite a formidable agent. She knew not everyone was on board with the Director’s pick of Second in Command. She did not mind it though, she had nothing to prove to those who disapproved. She knew she was always damn good at her job.

Perhaps that is why she did not realize her feelings before. Maybe that is why she had unfairly pushed you away. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, the horrid, guilty feeling coming back with an unyielding vengeance.

Why did she realize her feelings now? Why not before? Why did you have to be trapped under the damn tunnels, potentially dead? Why has no one found you yet? Why can’t she be there, searching for you herself?

She takes deep, even breaths as she works herself up again. No, she cannot afford that right now. You can’t be dead. She’s holding onto the hope that you are not dead.

She looks down at her datapad once more, a new set of agent names scrolling upwards.

Maguire, Christian, Recovered

Duque, Cristina, Recovered

Taylor, Rosa, K.I.A.

Buchi, Mamelu, Recovered

Bennett, Adrian, K.I.A.

Her heart stops as she spots your name. Her hands shook as she stared down at your status.

Recovered

A relieved laugh escapes her involuntarily. You are alive. You are still alive. The report said that you were in critical condition and were en route to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Centrum based in Nevada. She needed to see you.

The relief that had soothed her anxiety is short lived as she realizes she cannot leave yet. Her duties, responsibilities and the current state of the emergency the world finds itself in would not allow her to be with you at the moment. ‘I need you here,’ Fury’s voice reverberated in her head. She sighs deeply in frustration, guilt and relief playing tug-of-war with her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers quietly as she stares down at your profile. 

May 4th, 15:24 hrs, 61 hours later…

“Oh, and uh, as for the matter that’s not in question? Where you morons tried to nuke New York? Well, that’s on the record. As in we recorded it. We do that. We’re S.H.I.E.L.D.,” silence hung between all the council members as Maria continued. The council members would not look at her, the shame of their decision hanging over them.

“So, if you’re thinking about coming after Nick Fury, ever,” she emphasizes the last word as her fingers work the control panel to open the privacy door of the Helicarrier’s main deck, “Think really, really hard.” 

With a pointed look and a victorious smirk, she turns off the screen before rejoining the main deck.

“How did that go?” Fury approached beside her shortly after. 

“Sold you down the river, sir. You should have your job within the month,” she replied as she began overlooking the Main Deck Data Panels. 

“Good work,” he says before continuing, “you should maybe ask for a chair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says with an amused smile. She falters briefly though, as the Avengers make their way into her mind. 

“Sir, how does it work now? They’ve gone their separate ways. Some, pretty extremely far,” she walked alongside Fury as they made their way towards the large windows that oversaw the outside of the Helicarrier. She had had no faith in the Avengers Initiative. How did such a disjointed group with such different backgrounds ever function as a team? Who was to say they could do it again? “If we get into a situation like this again, what happens then?”

“They’ll come back,” he replies as if it were the simplest truth in the world.

“Are you really sure about that?” She did not quite know how his faith in this group could be so unwavering, especially after witnessing all their arguments before and during the recent battle. 

“I am,” he answers once again as if it were the easiest question on Earth.

“Why?” she asked earnestly. 

“Because we’ll need them to.”

A silent understanding passed between them as they overlooked the outside of the Helicarrier, agents running along the aviation runway. It was there that she understood that it was a play of faith. What had consistently carried the Avengers team was Fury’s belief in them, individually in each of them as well as in a group. It is that very same belief that would bring them together if any other event were to occur. 

            She takes a deep breath, her thoughts wondering to you once more. She has not been able to follow up on your status with everything that had happened since early that morning. A naive part of her wondered if maybe her belief that you would be okay had anything to do with your survival. 

Silence hung between both Director and Commander for a few moments. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Agent Hill?” Fury asks suddenly, turning his head towards her and eyed her knowingly. 

“Sir?” Maria asks, startled. Did he know? How did he find out? Perhaps she had not hidden her emotions as masterfully as she thought. Perhaps they would both be in trouble for the duration of the month.

“Go, we’ll talk about this later,” his voice was stern, but it did not match his soft expression.

“Thank you, sir,” she replies in a similar tone, but a ghost of a smile makes its way onto her lips. She leaves his side and hurriedly leaves the main deck.

Fury watched his Second in Command walk away. With a small smile, he approved the take-off of a Quinjet heading for Nevada. 

May 4th, 20:12 hrs, 66 hours later…

Maria had not been allowed to see you for the first 2 hours since arriving at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Centrum in Nevada. She had to argue her way into seeing you, having been told that only spouses and family would be allowed to enter. She was successful in the end, though, having pulled her rank into the conversation. She was not entirely proud of it, but it got her in and that is all she cared about.

Eventually, she was able to meet with one of your doctors. She informed Maria that your next of kin had been notified of your current state. The doctor also explained your injuries and the status of your treatment. Several of your ribs had been broken, you had a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder, and had suffered a concussion. One of your arms was shattered and it had been a miracle they did not have to amputate. Maria was both surprised and relieved your injuries were not more extensive. You have still not woken up since arriving at the Centrum.

She was allowed into your room shortly after the meeting with the doctor. Your non-dominant arm was covered in a white cast. The side of your face was heavily bruised and slightly swollen. Other bruises, stitched cuts and patched-up scrapes littered your face, arms and chest. You were paler than usual, and your eyes were slightly sunken. 

Maria swallowed hard as she took in the sight of you. It was hard to see you in such a state. She approached your bed slowly, as if moving too quickly would make you disappear. A soft beeping was the only sound in the room, aside from the gentle buzz of the air vents. 

She sat at your bedside, watching as your chest rose and fell, slow, steady breaths leaving you. It was the most beautiful sound she had heard in the last few days. She took your uninjured hand in hers, the coldness of your fingertips sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. She did not let go though, as she began to gently stroke the top of your hand with her thumb. You were here. You would be okay. She shifted around in the hospital chair in attempts to get comfortable, exhaustion of the past few days finally reaching her. She continued to hold your hand as she began to feel the lull of sleep calling her. 

She woke up when she felt you squeeze her hand ever so gently. Her eyes fluttered open, her body demanding sleep but her heart demanding to see you. Maria first saw her hand in yours and she raised her head to see you. Your eyes met hers, a lazy smile spreading over your lips. She smiled back as she took you in. Your eyes were droopy and slightly red. It was clear you were desperately fighting off sleep.

“Hey,” Maria whispered, running her thumb over the top of your hand soothingly.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Your voice was hoarse and thick with sleep, your eyes fluttering open and close.

“How are you feeling?” Maria asked worriedly.

“I’m tired,” you reply breathlessly, giving her a small, playful smile. Maria smiles back, raising her hand to rest beside your head, and begins to gently stroke your cheek. You lean into her touch, your eyes beginning to droop shut.

“Rest,” she commands softly. You continue to fight off sleep, struggling to open your eyes to stare back into hers. “No,” you whine softly, “I don’t want you to go away.”

“I won’t go away,” Maria replied, a pang of sympathy and guilt spreading in her chest. “Promise?” your eyes begin to close against your will once more. 

“I promise.” 

You continued to struggle against sleep for about a minute before slipping back into unconsciousness. Maria continued to stroke your cheek soothingly, watching your chest rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern. You were here, you were alive. Her hand found yours once more as she laid her head on the bed.

 “I won’t go away,” she repeated quietly as she watched you for a while longer, eventually falling asleep once more.

You were still asleep by the time she woke up again a few hours later. She sat up in her seat, her back popping and cracking as she did, a dull ache having settled throughout her body. She rolled her shoulders in attempts to loosen up her muscles as she walked towards the bathroom, hoping to quickly freshen up.

She notices you shifting in your bed as she quietly steps back into the room, your head lifting up when you notice her. You adjusted yourself to sit up on the bed, a pained wince decorating your features as you did. “Hey, hey, be careful,” Maria scolded, her tone soft and gentle, as she approached your bedside, “You’ve been out for a few days. How are you feeling?”

“I’m better. Less tired,” you reply, your voice cracking as you speak, before giving her a lazy smile. 

Maria cannot help but smile back at you, “That’s good to hear. Do you need anything?” You shake your head gently before resting your head against your pillow, your eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds.  

“You’re hurt,” you ask as you notice the stitches at the side of her brow.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m okay,” Maria replies as she sits beside you once more. She placed her hand on the bed, inches away from yours. 

You take her in. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she no longer wore her S.H.I.E.L.D. suit, instead wore a spare physical training uniform. Her eyes were tired, darkened bags hanging under her eyes. Bruises and small cuts littered her arms as well. Despite this, she held a small, unwavering smile.

Silence settled over the both of you for a few minutes. There was a far-off look to you, your eyes holding a mixture of guilt, worry and fear. Maria sighed quietly, guessing what you might be thinking about. 

“Did… did my team…?” your voice was quiet and pleading. Your eyes did not meet hers, fearing her expression would give away the answer before her lips could.

“Agent Bennett… he didn’t make it, sweetheart,” she says sympathetically, the soft, gentle tone never leaving her voice, “I’m sorry.”

A pained sigh escaped your lips as your eyes began to water. He had a son, one who had been living at the facility with him before everything went to hell. The boy had been evacuated at the beginning of the emergency. But now his father…

“And the rest?” you ask shakily.             “Harris, William and Parker made it out unscathed. Garcia was treated for minor injuries and is approved to return to her usual duties,” she answered in the same soft tone, offering you a sad smile. 

A few tears escaped your eyes, a mixture of sadness for your fallen friend and the relief of knowing the rest of your team had made it out. Maria had inched her hand closer, her fingers ghosting over yours. She gently held your hand when you didn’t pull away, giving it a soft squeeze and returning to stroke the top of your hand with her thumb.

            “So, um,” you begin to speak after a while, your voice still shaky and unsteady, “what-what did I miss?”

Maria knew you wanted to distract yourself from the news of the passing of your friend. She offered you a sad smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand before beginning to tell you about the last two days. From gathering the Avengers, to the loss of Agent Coulson, to the Hulk rampaging in the Helicarrier, to the battle of New York. You listened as intently as you could, the thought of your dead friend still hung in the forefront of your mind. 

Silence hung between the both of you for several minutes after Maria told you what you had missed. Her presence here confused you. She kept her promise, she stayed, but that surprised you. Why was she here? S.H.I.E.L.D. was dealing with the aftermath of an alien attack, yet she was sitting beside you, comforting you. The state in which your relationship currently stood does not warrant this, so why was she choosing to be here?

“Maria?” you ask tentatively. She looked into your eyes at the mention of her name. You swallowed down the bubble of fear that formed at the pit of your stomach, “What are we?”

The words said were just barely louder than the medical equipment in the room. Your gaze fell to your hands, watching as you twiddled with your thumbs. 

You suddenly feel her warm hand cup your cheek, gently guiding you to look at her. Her eyes held an earnest, vulnerable look, one that captured your heart and attention. “I thought I lost you, when you were trapped in the tunnels,” the sincerity in her voice almost caught you off guard, “and that scared me more than anything else.”

She squeezed your hand gently, as if to emphasize her point. The vulnerability in her eyes and her voice were something you had never been privy to before, and part of you almost doesn’t know how to react to it. 

“Even an alien invasion?” you give her a weak smile, while also mentally kicking yourself. This was not the moment for you to be making dumb jokes. Maria takes it in stride though, as she gives you an amused smile, “Yes, even an alien invasion.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you into making a decision you weren’t ready to make. I know how important your job is to you, and…” you apologize, your eyes falling to your hands once more.

“No, I’m sorry for pushing you away,” Maria does not want to hear your apologies. You have nothing to apologize for. All she wanted was you, she knew that now. “I… guess I hadn’t realized I had fallen in love with you, and those feelings scared me.”

Your eyes open wide at her confession as you raise your head to look at her, “You-you what?”

Maria’s eyes widened as well, not having realized what she admitted. For a brief moment of panic, she wanted to take it back. Maybe you were not in that place yet. But she reigns herself in and pushes that feeling away, before taking a deep breath and looking at you straight in the eye. She whispers your name oh so gently and lovingly, “I love you.”

A mixture of emotions, good and bad, swirled in her ocean-colored eyes like a storm. She was laying out the most vulnerable parts of herself to you, allowing herself to drop the emotional walls she had built around herself, letting you see how much she cared for you, letting you know she had fallen for you the way you fell for her.

“I love you, too,” you say softly, almost breathlessly. A quiet laugh escapes you as you say those words. You see as relief and pure joy fills her expression. She joins your laugh as she gently holds your face in her hands.

She leaned over you, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. A warm feeling erupted in your chest, a childlike glee overtaking you. Your lips moved in tandem with each other, following a familiar rhythm. Even so, this kiss felt different, it felt renewed and exciting and right. 

You deepened the kiss, placing your hand behind her neck, your fingers getting lost in her hair. That was until you pulled away to gasp for air, your lung capacity not quite what it used to be. She leaned her head against yours, a soft chuckle escaping her.

“Cheeky,” she whispered, her hot breath hitting against your face.

“Can you blame me?” you replied with a mischievous smile.

The door opened suddenly, revealing two nurses. Maria pulled away from you to look at the door, all parties in the room momentarily freezing as the intimate moment was interrupted. Neither you nor Maria had realized until now that your heart monitor had begun beeping rapidly, despite how loud it typically is. Your cheeks felt warm as you looked between Maria and the nurses.

“We heard the monitor– we’ll-we’ll come back later,” one of the nurses said sheepishly. “Sorry for interrupting, go on,” the other one said as they both stepped out.

Soft giggles escaped your lips once the door closed. Maria looked down at you, as she began to laugh, too. She begins to gently brush the hair on the top of your head. You rested your head against your pillow as you looked up at Maria lovingly. 

Maria sends you a big smile, the ones that showed pure love and happiness. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and relief and pure adoration. After days of the awful sinking feeling in her chest and the uncomfortable churning in her stomach, there was finally a lightness in her heart.

She leaned over you, placing a soft kiss on your lips once more.

[casuallyimagining]

Two Hours || myg

otter hybrid yoongi x female reader

Summary: Your neighbor invites you to a work picnic that he's nervous to attend. You promise to only stay for two hours. Word Count: 2,870 Genre: slice of life, fake dating, friends to ???, fluff Warnings: none

Notes: Thank you to @park-jimin-isnt-real for the moodboard above, and to @rec-me-bts for the moodboard below that I used in the teaser. I had so much trouble deciding which one to use where. Also many many thanks to @oddinary4bts and @madbutgloriouspond for beta-ing this for me and for their endless sympathies while I basically had an existential crisis in their dms. Thank you for not telling me I am annoying 💙

The elevator dings and you step onto your floor. Your arm stings from carrying the grocery bags from the garage–they aren’t particularly full, but it’s just heavy enough and just long enough to get your out of shape muscles angry at you. The closer you get to your apartment, the more you notice a banging noise. And when you finally round the corner, you see its source.

Your across-the-hall neighbor, Yoongi, stands outside of his own apartment rattling his door angrily.

“Stuck again?” you ask, fishing out your keys with your free hand.

Yoongi grunts, the small ears on the top of his head pressing into his hair in frustration. Silently, he takes the bags out of your hand while you open your door. 

“You should call the landlord again,” you tell him. He follows you inside as if it’s natural. Which, really, it is. This is the fourth time this month his door has jammed, effectively locking him out of his home until a locksmith showed up.

“I’d fix it myself if he’d let me.” He sets the bags on your counter and starts to hand you items. Strawberries, a bottle of coffee creamer, cucumbers and celery. He picks up a box of frozen fish sticks and flips it around to read. “You know this stuff is garbage, right?”

You ignore his commentary on your groceries. “You know Krolmeir’s never going to let you fix it. He’d have to lower your rent.”

He hums, and you can hear the underlying ‘jackass’ in the tone. 

“Do you want me to call him?” you asked. Krolmeir–your landlord–likes you way more than he seems to like Yoongi. You’re almost positive you can guess why. But you aren’t afraid to use his skeeviness to your advantage.

“I called him just before you showed up.”

“And he said…?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yoongi imitates Krolmeir’s voice–a high-pitched nasally whine more than anything. He rolls his eyes. “So he’ll be here sometime between five minutes from now and next Tuesday.”

You hum sympathetically. “Hang out here until he comes? I’ll make dinner.”

“Are you making fish sticks?”

“Thought about it.” His face scrunches up in disgust, a massive frown parts his lips, revealing his longer than human canine teeth. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I was actually just going to order something. Want to get sushi?”

His eyes light up, but when he speaks, his tone doesn’t match how excited he looks. “Whatever you want to do. I’m the one crashing your evening.”

You wave him off. He should know by now that he’s not imposing. You’ve been neighbors for a few years now. You’d started off just going grocery shopping together–it’s easier to carry groceries when there are two of you–and quickly progressed to taking refuge in each other’s apartments when something went wrong in your own. First, it had been your air conditioning crapping out that had driven you to Yoongi’s apartment to avoid the late-summer heat. Then, his oven stopped working, and he’d hidden in your living room while the landlord and the handyman made the repairs. Back and forth until a friendship had formed.

The sushi arrives and you settle in together on your couch. You prop your door open so that you can hear if the landlord arrives. He takes two bites of his sashimi before Yoongi hums urgently, causing you to pause the show you’d turned on for background noise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “So we’re having a potluck picnic thing at work, and someone decided it would be a great idea to make it mandatory.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But I get a plus one, so I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me? Make it a little more tolerable?”

“You want me to go to your dumb company picnic with you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Nervously, he pokes at a grain of rice that had fallen off one of his nigiri.

“Sounds like it’s going to be not a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.”

You shrug. “I’m in.”

Yoongi is a ball of nerves as you shift into park. You’re definitely not the first ones here–there’s like ten other cars in the gravel lot, and you can see a large-ish group of people milling about the pavilion just up the hill. He alternates between patting his thigh and picking at the skin around his thumbnail. His ears press into his hair so far you can’t even see them. You know he doesn’t care for his coworkers, but you didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe it’s the crowd, or the fact that so many of his coworkers will be here. You aren’t sure, but you don’t like how affected he is.

You reach over and gently cover his hands with your own. He freezes. “Let’s make a game plan,” you say softly. He hums. “We’ll stay for how long? Two hours? An hour and a half?”

“Two I think. Since it’s mandatory.”

You nod. “Stay for two hours. We’ll talk to people, but if it starts to be too much, let me know.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. But then, he nods. “Let’s do this.”

You carry the dessert Yoongi made–partially because you’re a little worried he might drop it from nerves–and he sticks by your side. He’s got one hand in his pocket, but he’s so close that the other brushes against you every few steps.

The closer you get, the more the people in the pavilion notice you. You watch as one by one, then a few at a time, they watch you approach. And suddenly, you understand why Yoongi’s uncomfortable. Eventually, someone comes scuttling toward you.

“Hi Yoongi!” she calls, waving enthusiastically as she approaches.

“Oh. Hey Liz.” He presses closer. “We uh… we brought tiramisu.”

The woman–Liz–takes the container out of your hands. You make a small noise of protest, but she’s already gone, back up the hill to the pavilion and everyone else.

“Yoongi and his girlfriend brought dessert,” you hear her announce.

“Oh, tiramisu? Nice!” someone else–you can’t see who–says.

“No way. I thought he was going to bring something fishy.” Someone else, you can see them and you make a note that you hate them, laughs. A few others chuckle, too, and you also hate them.

They’re still laughing when you get to the pavilion. You’re introduced to each of them by finding out what they brought, and honestly, you don’t remember most of their names. It’s David that made the comment about the fish, so you’re sure to memorize his name so you can hate him fully. David’s dating Yoongi’s manager, Marcus, who apparently brought chicken that is very good. There’s Alison, who brought naan, and Rabia who brought chutney to go with it. And Donghyun brought some sort of seven layer dip.

For the most part, none of them talk to you. It quickly becomes clear that these people aren’t friends. Certainly, they aren’t friends with Yoongi, but they aren’t friends at all. They talk to each other, but it’s clear that this is just another mandatory work thing for them, and they don’t want to be here. You’re honestly a little glad that they leave you alone. None of them seem particularly nice. Or interesting.

So you grab food. And you sit together at a table far away from where the rest of the group is lingering.

“One hour, 45 minutes to go,” Yoongi mumbles, and you snort in laughter, almost choking on the naan you’d just taken a bite of.

“Maybe it won’t be so-”

“Mind if I sit?” You’re interrupted by a bright voice, and when you look, Liz is standing beside Yoongi, holding a plate of food.

You look to Yoongi and he makes a face that says he really doesn’t want her to sit with you. But he says nothing, simply gestures to the other side of the table. Which, of course, she takes as an invitation to sit right beside him. He practically squeaks in distress and scoots slightly over so that there’s a bit of space between them.

“I have to be honest,” Liz begins, oblivious. “No one really expected you to bring anyone. We kind of all just assumed you were single, you know?” He hums, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge what she’s saying. Briefly, you consider correcting her–you aren’t dating–but she continues before you can even consider a polite way to address the situation. “How long have you known each other? How’d you meet?”

“Years.” He doesn’t even look at her to answer her, his focus on pushing his food around on his plate. His current victim is the seven layer dip he’s stabbing with a tortilla chip.

“We’re neighbors,” you add, hoping that maybe if you answer her questions, she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

Liz nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cute! You guys are cute.”

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Yoongi announces suddenly, standing up. “Do you want anything?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods and leaves you alone with Liz. “I’m serious,” she laughs. “When we were all told we could bring a plus-one, I don’t think anyone expected Yoongi to bring someone. He’s usually so quiet around everyone at work.”

You’ve lost patience with her quickly. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, it grates on your nerves. “Sometimes, he only talks when he thinks it’s worth his time.” You shrug and make eye contact with her. 

Her smile falters very briefly, but then she recovers and it’s like nothing changed. “He talks to me, though,” she continues, as if you’d said nothing. “Mostly about new album releases and stuff.” You work at a music store, you think. But you let her keep talking. “He knows so much about music. He played the piano for me once.”

You hum and say nothing, craning your neck so you can look around her to see where Yoongi’s gotten to. He’s at the end of the pavilion, distracted by Marcus, his manager.

“He’s really good,” Liz gushes. “Like, really good. He used to want to be a music teacher–did you know that? He told me-”

You tune her out. Of course, you know that he plays the piano. You’ve seen the brown upright that sits in his living room, never dusty because he plays it too much. You often hear the soft melodies that travel through the walls at night when he can’t sleep. He’d even told you about wanting to be a music teacher–a long-dead dream that he’d abandoned in his early 20s. You wish he hadn’t, he had the patience of a saint and he was one of the smartest people you knew. But you also understand how needlessly cruel the world can be sometimes.

Finally, Yoongi returns, balancing a plate and two bottles of beer. He sits one of the bottles in front of you and, with a flourish, places the plate between you. “Someone made hotteok,” he says gleefully, nudging a pancake in your direction. “They aren’t hot, but Marcus said they were really good.”

He picks one up, gives it a satisfied pat. A wide, gummy smile spreads across his lips and his eyes crinkle in delight. He pats the pancake again a few more times, before nudging the plate toward you. It’s got one more hotteok on it, and a scoop of the tiramisu trifle Yoongi’d made. 

Liz makes a noise of annoyance, and the look on her face says that she’s not happy she’s being ignored. But she plasters on a smile when Yoongi looks over at her.

“Oh. Liz,” he says softly, one hand still gently patting his hotteok. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Her face falls. “I was just leaving.”

She leaves her plate behind.

He watches after her, eyes wide as she goes to join the group currently surrounding a bluetooth speaker. It’s blasting some sort of 90s pop song–you assume they’ve got a playlist going on someone’s phone. 

“That was weird,” Yoongi says finally. “She’s normally really nice.”

You hum and lie. “Maybe she’s having a bad day.”

And as tactless as you think Liz is, you want to believe that’s true. You’ve heard plenty of stories of her, how she’s the only coworker that Yoongi actually likes, how she’s nice to him, how she actually seems to be interested in what he has to say. You don’t trust her, but you hope for Yoongi’s sake that she’s just off her game today. 

Maybe if he clarified that you weren’t dating, it would help.

He doesn’t make any effort to do that, though, not even when Rabia brings around a QR code for you to scan to add songs to the playlist they’ve got going.

“Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would want to add some songs,” she says, offering a small smile. She waits patiently while Yoongi scans the code on her phone, and then she disappears again, back to the group over by the speaker.

“She seems nice,” you say, watching as he types into his phone and picks a couple songs.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve met her like twice? She works nights.”

After a second, he hands you his phone, open to some music website you’ve never heard of. You carefully consider what you might want to add. The site doesn’t let you see what else is in the playlist, so you aren’t sure what songs Yoongi picked, let alone what the others have queued up. But you pick two of your favorites that you think would be fun and hand him his phone back.

Apparently, the playlist is on shuffle, because a few songs later, you recognize the opening beats of one of the songs you chose. Immediately, Yoongi perks up, his little ears on alert as he listens. It takes all of about three seconds for him to break into a grin. 

He’d introduced you to this band back when you first started grocery shopping together. You were driving, he was playing music on his phone. They were his favorite, a small hip-hop group made up of three dog hybrids. It wasn’t common for hybrids to make it in really any industry, so the fact that these guys did and their music was good? You couldn’t deny they had quickly become some of your favorite artists, too.

He sways a little with the music, his eyes closed. He looks content. You smile watching him, rest your chin on his hands. You’re happy you came, you determine.

Two hours fly faster than you thought they would. And when you point out that you’ve hit your promised limit and ask if Yoongi’s ready to go, he immediately nods. So you stand, say your goodbyes. His coworkers make a big deal of you leaving so soon. Liz tries to hug Yoongi before you leave, but he dodges her by grabbing another hotteok–though whether it was a purposeful deflection or just a happy accident, you aren’t sure.

He barely speaks until you’re in the car and halfway back to your apartment building. He shifts around in his seat, digging around in his pocket. He pulls out a rock–his favorite rock, you note–and rolls it around in his hand.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming with me. I uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t dating.”

You frown, and when you slow to a stop at the next redlight, you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If it made the situation even a little easier, it’s totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, when am I going to see these people again?” The light turns green and you hit the gas. “Let them think whatever they want. You wanna come back in eight months and tell them we’re married? Go for it.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. “I appreciate it.”

The car falls silent, the only sounds coming from the radio–Yoongi’s phone connected to the aux cord. He continues to toy with the rock, rubbing it between his fingers and tapping it against the armrest on the door. It takes only minutes to pull into the garage under your building, and even less to find a spot.

While you’re waiting for the elevator to return to the garage, he says your name so softly, you almost don’t hear it over the whirring of the cables and machinery.

“Here,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your hand. Carefully, he presses his rock into your palm.

You look at him, confused. “Yoongi, I…” He loves this rock. He’d never said exactly where he found it, but it’s a little round and very smooth, and you’ve seen him pat his pockets down on numerous occasions to make sure he has it with him.

“Take it. Please. I… As a thank you.” He doesn’t look at you, his face flushed a shade of light pink.

You nod and close your fingers around the rock. You’ll have to find somewhere nice to put it. And maybe, someday, you can find him a new one to replace it.

I'd love to know what you thought! I had been considering making this longer, but I thought leaving it open might be a little more fun. if you're interested, I may do a part two later? idk let me know if you're feeling a part two. thank you again to yav and jay for the moodboards. they're both so pretty.

[amygdalae]

got any full album recs? like not just "there's a few bangers here" but "listening to this as an album will change everything"

im sooo picky the only two albums that've been 100% like this for me (so far) are as follows:

Dirt by Alice in Chains. - grunge/heavy metal

Cold by Lycia - darkwave/ ethereal wave

albums that have come really close to this for me:

Ghost Reveries by Opeth - progressive metal/death metal

Hidden Faces by Clan of Xymox - darkwave

Sonic Jihad by Snake River Conspiracy - industrial

Psycho Magnet by London After Midnight - darkwave/industrial

Doomsday Machine by Arch Enemy - melodic death metal

Green Room by Radkey - garage rock/punk rock sorta

Deep by Peter Murphy - Peter Murphy (New wave? does his solo stuff count as goth. less sure how to categorize. anyways its good)

[minniesmutt]

♱ ━━━━━━ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋: 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 

♱ ━━━ CONTENT: MENTION GUNS, MINHO SPEEDING, TEASING TOYS, THREESOME, USE OF TRAFFIC LIGHT SYSTEM, GROPING, SIR KINK, ORAL (F & M REC), BOOB/NIPPLE PLAY, HICKEYS, FINGER SUCKING, FINGERING, PET NAMES, LIGHT CHOING, CAR SEX, VOYUERISM/EXHIBITIONISM, CUMSHARING/EATING, MULTIPLE ORGASMS ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.9K ♱ ━━━ PAIRING: LEE KNOW X READER X HAN ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog ♱ ━━━ a repost from my old blog

     Minho and Jisung made Y/n aware of their presence in the home before relaxing in Chan’s living room. A few minutes later, Y/n walked out into the living room, having found her clothes from the night before and slipping them back on instead of wearing Chan’s shirt. 

     Both men looked over at her as she entered the room. “Damn,” Jisung commented as she walked over to the couch with her heels in her hand and bag hanging off her shoulder, “I'm shocked Chan didn't rip that last night.”

     “I think he planned on letting me go before I saw your gun and got involved in this.” Y/n took a seat and set her heels on the ground

     “So we can thank Ji for the reason you’re staying.” Minho joked

     “I’ll gladly take the praise for it,” Jisung smiled

     “What did Chan say about the arrangement?” Minho moved to sit on the coffee table in front of her

     “To me, it sounds like a sugar daddy, sugar baby situation. From what he explained, I’d be shared between all eight of you, and you all provide me with what I need. And he wants me to be an informant for you guys as well.” Y/n explained

     “Not much for me to explain there.” Minho shrugged, “None of it makes you uncomfortable? Being shared by eight criminals?” 

     “No. Not really.” Y/n shrugged

     Minho smiled. That was all he needed, “Shoes on kitten. We’ll take you to pack your things.”

     Minho got up from the table and headed towards the elevator. Y/n sighed and went to grab her heels to put the dreaded contraptions back on.

     “Let me,” Jisung stopped her and kneeled in front of her.

     “Thank you,” Y/n smiled as he grabbed the shoes and strapped them on her ankles for her.

     “You’re welcome doll.” Jisung stood and offered his hand to her.

     Y/n gladly took it and Ji pulled her up off the couch, into him.

     “Hurry up!” Minho yelled from down the hall.

     Jisung rolled his eyes at his friend and pecked her cheek before leading her over to the elevator, hand on the small of her back. Minho pressed the button and eyed her in the dress as they waited for the elevator. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, letting the three inside.

     Minho pressed the button to head to the parking garage once they were all in. Jisung moved his hand to rest on her hip. Y/n figured Jisung was one of the ones Chan mentioned was clingier than the others. Not that she minded. 

     The ride was quiet and short. The doors open in the garage and the two men led her over to another blacked-out car. Minho opened the passenger door for Y/n and both helped her in. Y/n thanked them as Minho closed the door and went to the driver’s side while Jisung got in the back seat. 

     “Address?” Minho asked as he started the engine

     Y/n gave him the address to her now old home as he set it up on the GPS, took the car out of park, and pulled out of the garage, slowly. Once they were on the street, the speed limit was merely a suggestion. 

     Minho's hand landed on her thigh as they drove through the city to her old apartment. It honestly wasn’t super far from the penthouse so the drive was short. But speeding was rather fun. 

     Minho pulled up outside her building and let the two passengers out. Jisung got the door for Y/n and the two headed into her place while Minho parked the car. “Buildings kinda sketchy,” Jisung noted 

     “It was cheap and close to work for me,” Y/n said as she fished her keys from her bag.

     “You’re going to have to quit that job now too doll,” Jisung added

     “Oh, I already quit three days ago. The boss was an ass to all the female staff. I was looking for another actually,” Y/n got the apartment key out as they got to her place.

     “Well, we have perfect timing don’t we?” 

     Y/n smiled as she opened the door and walked in with Jisung behind her. She set the keys down on the small table by the door as Ji closed the door behind them, leaving it unlocked for Minho. Y/n walked into the apartment and headed down the hall “Make yourself at home.” She called

     Jisung took a look around the living area as she packed her things. It was decorated rather nicely. Fake plants and a few photos around. Chan had mentioned to them that he didn’t think she was entirely in her right mind and the two friends were curious. Maybe they could figure her out a bit from her apartment.

     “This place is a piece of shit,” Minho said as he entered the unit.

     “You’re telling me,” Jisung had made his way into the kitchen and was snooping through drawers.

     “What are you doing?” Minho asked as he joined his friend.

     “Looking around.” Ji shrugged

     “I texted Felix on my way up. He’s gonna look into her a bit,” Minho stated in a quieter tone

     “This place doesn’t scream crazy.”     “Not one bit. But the lack of reactions earlier?”

     “It’s odd. Felix will find more than we can here honestly.”

     Minho agreed and stated he was going to go check on Y/n. Y/n was up in her room, having changed out of her dress and opted for more comfortable house clothes— a bit to Minho’s dismay. He watched from the doorway as she walked around the room grabbing, and folding clothes and packing them in her suitcase.

     “You gonna stand and stare or are you going to help?” Y/n asked as she glanced over at him.

     “Standing and staring seems like fun,” Minho smirked as he walked into her room and over to the bed, sitting down next to her open suitcase.

    Y/n rolled her eyes at him as she continued. Minho looked into the suitcase, it was mostly clothing so he got bored quickly. His head turned towards the bedside table. Curiosity killed the cat, right?

     He opened the drawer, a bit disappointed to find nothing in there. “other drawer,” Y/n smiled at him

     Minho smirked, closed the drawer, and opened the one below it. Bingo. 

     “Since you’re there, do me a favor and pack them up for me.”

     Minho grabbed out a remote control vibrator. He glanced between her and it for a moment. Y/n didn't notice as she continued with her clothes. 

     He grabbed get waist and pulled her down onto his lap. Y/n let out a surprised squeak as her back hit his chest. 

     “Safe word?” Minho’s voice rang right next to her ear

     “Traffic system,” Y/n told him

     “Color?”

     “Green.”

     Minho bit her earlobe and chuckled. He trailed kisses down her neck, hands running up under her shirt, groping her breasts. Y/n just about melted into his touch. Glad she decided to say fuck it to a bra today. “Soft,” Minho chuckled against her skin as he groped her boobs. 

     “You two having fun in here?” Jisung asked from the door

     “Why don’t you come to help our kitten out, Ji,” Minho smirked as he looked up at his friend.

     The second male smiled and walked over to the two on the bed. Jisung grabbed her chin and tilted her head back a bit before bringing his lips down onto hers. Y/n moaned against Jisung’s soft lips as Minho’s hands kneaded her breasts and toyed with her nipples. The older one's lips left wet open-mouth kisses against her skin. 

     Jisung’s tongue slipped past her lips, swirling and playing with hers. Y/n rolled her hips against Minho’s crotch— eliciting a moan from the man under her— as her hands sought Jisungs body, wanting them both as close as possible.  “Think our kitten needs to be played with a bit more, Ji,” Minho stated as he pulled his lips away from her neck.

     Jisung pulled his lips away from hers a smiled at his friend. “You don’t need all these clothes on, do you doll?” Jisung’s big round eyes looked into hers, her hand still holding her chin.

     “No sir.” Y/n groaned 

     “Ooh. Did you hear that Ji?” Minho teased, Y/n could hear him smirk and she saw the smirk appear on Jisung’s face, humming in response

     “Good girl.”

     Jisung squatted down and pulled off her leggings. Kissing the skin as it became exposed to them. Tossing the fabric to the side, bringing one leg over his shoulder, and kissing her inner thigh. Minho was back to kissing along her neck, lightly biting the skin as Jisung kissed her clothed clit. Y/n let out a whine as her hips bucked forward, head falling back onto Minho’s shoulders. 

     Minho removed one hand from her breasts to grab her chin and make her look down at Jisung as he removed her panties. “Keep your eyes on Jisung.” Minho instructed, “Got it?”

     “Yes sir.” Y/n nodded as the fabric was taken off her legs and put to the side with her leggings.

     Jisung didn’t waste time licking a strip between her folds while Minho’s hands pulled her shirt up over her breasts, letting them be exposed to the cool air of her apartment. Jisungs lips wrapped around her clit, lightly sucking on the little bud. 

     Minho's hands came back onto her boobs and kneaded them once again like a cat. Lightly sucking hickeys onto her neck. Jisung’s hands held onto her thighs as he made out with her cunt. One of her hands gripping at Jisung’s hair and the other grabbing at Minhos groping her.

     A low whine escaped her from the stimulation. Jisung pulled away for a moment to look at her reaction. Smiling when he caught her eyes as she bit her lower lip, “Open up doll,” Ji instructed

     Y/n opened her mouth per his instructions only for two of his fingers to slip in. Her lips closed around his fingers and ran her tongue around the digits and sucked on them until he pulled them out. 

     Jisung licked up her juices that had accumulated before pushing his two fingers into her. Minho takes the chance to grab her face from under her chin as her head started falling back and kept her gaze down at the man finger fucking her and sucking on her clit. 

     Minhos hand snuck down to her neck and squeezed lightly. All the stimulation made her clench around Jisungs fingers and let out a strangled moan. Both men smirked to themselves. 

     Jisung sucked harder and curled his fingers into her walls. Minho groaned as she rocked slightly on his lap, her ass grinding against his half-hard cock. “Jisung making you feel good kitten?” Minho’s voice was right next to her ear and the tone made her clench her legs together around Jisung’s head as her back arched away from his chest.

     “Yes. Feel so good sir,” Y/n moaned before the not that had been building up in her lower belly finally slapped and she came on Jisung’s fingers.

     Jisung pulled his lips off her puffy clit as he fingered her through her orgasm before pulling them out of her. Minho grabbed his wrists and licked his friends’ fingers clean as Jisung licked Y/n clean from the remaining orgasm.

     Minho let her head fall onto his shoulder as he passed his friend the vibrator he had pulled out. Jisung pulled his clean fingers from his mouth and grabbed the toy. Neither of the men said anything as Minhos hands pulled her legs back open by her thighs and Jisung ran the toy through her wet folds and then slipped it in slowly. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n moaned as the two nestled the toy into before slipping her clothes back on. Jisung stood from his squatting position and pulled her in for another kiss before Minho did the same and helped her stand up and finish packing her things. 

     Both of them took turns throughout the packing turning on the vibrator and watching Y/n her stop when they turned it on. 

     Even when she finished and got everything down to the car, they still toyed with her. Jisung pulled her into the backseat with him as Minho drove them back to the apartment. Minho held the remote in one hand and kept one on the wheel. He took his time getting back to the building. 

     Jisung kept a hand on her thigh, squeezing occasionally. Y/n laid her head on his shoulders and hid her face. 

     “What’s wrong doll?” Jisung asked as he rubbed her thigh

     “Close…” She whined

     Jisung smiled up at Minho through the mirror before the vibrator turned off, making her whine more.

     “How about you help Ji out back there kitten,” Minho suggested 

     Jisung kissed the side of her head as he unbuckled his belt. His erection was obvious in his slacks. Y/n helped him get his cock out of the slacks and pumped him a few times— even though he was painfully hard. 

     Jisung was average compared to Chan in honesty. He didn’t have his length or girth, but he did have a pretty cock. Y/n maneuvered the seat belt off her shoulder to lean down and kiss his leaky tip. 

     Jisung groaned as he held her neck as she slowly took him into her mouth. Watching the back of her head bob up and down while her hand pumped what she couldn’t fit into her mouth. Tongue glided across the veins on his cock. 

     Minho glanced at the scene from his mirror as he pulled down Serpent Road where their building sat. Jisung pushed his head up from her neck to grip the back of her head. Fingers gripping her hair and helping her at a faster pace. 

     Saliva dripped down his cock and onto her hand as Jisung started pistoning his hips up, the tip of his cock almost hitting the back of her throat. Y/n moaned around his length. Minho turned the vibrator back on when his friend started running his mouth, a signal that he was about to come. 

     Y/n screamed around his cock as her eyes started rolling back into her head from the pleasure again. Jisung kept her head still as he fucked up into her mouth. Cock twitched when she hallowed out her cheeks for him. He threw his head back into the headrest as he pushed down her throat and got ropes of come shot down her throat. 

     Minho pulled into their parking garage as Jisung came down from his high. Pulling Y/n off his softening cock and up to kiss her. Some of his cum still lingered in her mouth as his tongue snaked into her mouth. Not the least bit bothered with the come as he tasted it on the tip of his tongue and moaned into the kiss, pulling some of the seamen and saliva mixture into his mouth. 

     Holding her hips as she grinded against the leather seat. Minho pulled into a free spot and tuned the vibration up another level. Once turned the car off he pushed his seat back as far as he could as Jisung pulled away from Y/n’s lips. 

     “My turn kitten,” Minho smirked as she swallowed the rest of Jisung’s come while unbuckling his belt. Y/n leaned over Jisungs lap to kiss the other man. Minho welcomed the kiss as Jisung unbuckled her seatbelt so she was more comfortable. 

     Minho pulled his own erection out and pumped himself as his tongue slipped into her mouth and he passed the toy remote to Jisung. The younger male accepted as Minho pulled her away from the kiss and guided her head down to his leaking cock. Y/n half laid over the center console of the car as he replaced Minho's hand with hers and her mouth. The male sat back and watched her take his cock down her throat, moaning along his length. 

     The position she was in gave Jisung a nice view of her ass. He smiled devilishly as he pulled her leggings and panties just enough to see the toy work her cunt and clit. He was surprised he hadn't soaked through her panties with how wet she was. 

     “Think our doll’s gonna come soon, Min,” Jisungs said as he pushed the toy in a bit more.

     Y/n moaned around Minho’s cock and clenched around the toy. Jisung watched as she came around the toy. Her head stopped moving and Minho took over and bobbed her head up and down, slightly fucking his hips up to meet her mouth. Fucking her face until he felt himself on the edge and buried his cock down her throat, shooting his load into her throat.

     Minho pulled her off his cock and held the back of her neck. “Good job, kitten,” Minho smiled as Jisung turned the toy off and fixed her clothes and theirs.

     “Still with us doll?” Ji asked as they got her out of the car and he picked her up. A couple of their men came out to collect her things to bring them up to her new home as the two other men headed up to her penthouse with her.

     “Mhm. Just tired,” Y/n nodded as she lay against his chest.

     “Don’t fall asleep just yet kitten.” Minho leaned over and petted her hair, kissing her forehead

     Once they got into the apartment, Y/n took a look around the place. Bare enough to decorate it to her desires. This was her new life.

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[alligatorcowboyboots]

🏡 Newtown Shelter - 3 BR / 3 BA

A medium sized family home furnished for a family of 4: master bedroom and 2 kids rooms. Features a garage, rec room, and basement.

Details:

CC free 20x30 Furnished Price: $63,620 Unfurnished Price: $36,446

Packs required:

Base Game, Ambitions, Late Night, Generations, Pets, Supernatural, Seasons, University Life *no stuff packs used*

Download (SFS)

Download (MEGA)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Bear with me with this one, b/c it has a surprise in the attic. The 19th century Scottish Georgian townhome in Halifax, Nova Scotia, has been completely renovated. The 5bds, 4ba, 3,448 sq ft home is listed for C$1,499,999.

There's a small entrance foyer with elegant wainscoting and original floor tile.

Then, enter a wide side hall with original stair railings and architectural details.

In the large, newly brightened sitting room, the pocket doors, moldings, and fireplace remain. The floors are the original 19th century wood and on all levels have been refurbished.

Check out the eat-in kitchen with the wonderful fireplace.

They kept the fireplace, antique radiator, and wide moldings, but I'm not feeling the Mediterranean tile and ultra modern cabinetry combination.

There's quite a huge laundry room.

The bedrooms are very large. This one was given a skylight and has a fireplace. They painted the original floors up here.

This room has a lovely fireplace wall with built-ins. The floor has an oddly uneven green finish. At first I thought it was green stain, but it's not.

Marble bath with skylight looks like it may have the original sink. I can't believe how gold swan faucets have made such a comeback.

I love the basement b/c it's very original.

Look at those brick walls.

And, this is where 2 of the 5 bedrooms are. These 2 have fabulous brick walls.

The rec room is all new and has a complete kitchen.

But, look at the bath down here. Isn't this cool? It looks like they may have used the original tub and sink from the upstairs bath.

Okay, you waited long enough. Up to the attic to the "tomb room." Artist Michael Lewis painted this Ancient Egyptian-themed room. You'll notice that there's a sink on the right.

There's a sink b/c there's a bath up here. Need to use the shower or toilet?

Just open the Sarcophagus.

The yard isn't very large and it's paved with old bricks, but there's a deck.

I think that's a shed, it's a little small to be a garage.

The semi-detached townhouse is on a 2,295 sq ft lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/5642-Morris-St-Halifax-NS-B3J-1C5/305681805_zpid/

[crimsonicarus]

GR RPF FIC REC MASTERLIST!!

Long post!

Big shoutout to @arsenalgbt for suggesting i made a list, here are my fave GR fics, im a multishipper so it will be a couple or ships here, anyway, enjoy!

I wanted to also thank all the authors here listed for their awesome contributions to this lovely fandom, im really grateful for all your work <3333333

If any of the authors here listed would rather have their work taken down from this list please let me know .

new year's resolution by @wormeo-and-juliette

Pairing: OT3 Fernando Alonso/George Russell/Lance Stroll

Lance gets the text from Fernando well into the afternoon on the first day of the year: I slept with George.

Um. What?

eagle eyed by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: OT3 Alex Albon/George Russell/Logan Sargeant

“He’s watching, you know,” Alex says, voice level and conversational, like Logan being in the room is a normal part of this experience, “he’s hard.”

i’m your number one (it’s so obvious) by @63historian

Pairing: OT3 Lewis Hamilton/George Russell/Max Verstappen

“Tell him what you want, Georgie.”

He clenches his hole just as he starts begging, “I need you to come inside me, please, Max, please, I want it so bad.”

And who is Max not to obey such beautiful cries?

positive negatives by @ctimenefic

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

George doesn’t regret that shoot, exactly.

He had for a long time. After the first high of seeing the rushes wore off; after overhearing a murmured warning in general casting, days too late; after he woke up at three am to reread the release he’d blithely signed without thinking, and spent the next four hours staring at the ceiling hoping to wake up. He’d regretted it then.

For years after, the memory of it could hit like an ice cube sliding down his spine. Always, of course, at the most inconvenient moments. When he was working, or networking, when he needed his wits about him, couldn’t afford to stutter over his words. They’d put him in white silk, or offer him wine, or he’d walk into a room with slow, warm jazz playing, and the whole excruciating mess of it all would come back. He’d learnt how to smile through it, then how not to blink at all.

June is the coldest month of the year by @beabnormal24

Pairing: Max Verstappen/ George Russell

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected.

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him.

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world.

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves.

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet.

nobody else by ginnydear

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

The Mercedes garage is almost overwhelmingly busy when Alex walks through the crowds of officials there.

or... what if the world was suddenly plunged into omegaverse and everyone started presenting at once... pt two.

 table in the back by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

“Okay, here’s the offer." Alex says. "I’m going to make you something and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay. How does that sound?”

“So I get a good meal or a free meal?” George asks. “Sounds like a no-lose scenario.”

“Keen eye, George,” Alex grins. “Figured out my terrible business sense on the first try. Alright, take it or leave it.”

 all green lights

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Sorry mate I think you've got the wrong number

chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line

Pairing: OT3 George Russell/Lance Stroll/Fernando Alonso

Lance and Fernando have been together for over two years and it is great. It is great apart from one minor detail. They are both dominant tops and the irritation is starting to grind them down. Enter Lance's ex-whatever, George Russell.

But George is not going to be as easy to get on board as Lance and Fernando think. He will give his whole heart but you have to open it up first.

DISCLAIMER: THE FIC IS NOW ON PERMANENT HIATUS

Very common crisis (series) by crimandclove

Pairing: George Russell/ Lance Stroll

January 2024 - George finds himself single, stressed, with a set of tits & one Lance Stroll in his home.

Calls and Cats by @raewritesf1

Pairing: George Russell/Max Verstappen

Things go awry when George’s video call with the quartet is interrupted by the form of a familiar half-naked Dutch driver wielding a Bengal cat in the background.

spread before you like a picnic by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Now, weeks later, he thinks that was probably the reason he’d said it, why when he came back to himself and noticed that Alex had manhandled him on his stomach and was in the process of peeling George’s jeans down, his first instinct was to say, panicky: “You can’t fuck me.”

it's not about having someone to love me anymore by linearity

Pairings: Alexander Albon/George Russell, George Russell/Toto wolff

George is an omega. He kind of hates himself for it.

Brake Balance by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

"Why don’t you come dance?” With me goes unspoken, and George is eyeing him with a familiar look, like he’s sure Lewis will brush him off again, but he still wants to try.

Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol. Maybe it’s the shiny skin of a tanned collarbone showing through George’s three open shirt buttons. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the whole day in general, but for once, Lewis thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Stop overthinking, just go with it.

Bono’s words echo pointedly around his mind. Fuck it

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: Alex Albon/George Russell

They’d agreed on friends when Alex had come to collect the last of his things from George’s flat. George had been adamant about it, all uncomplicated smiles, like they hadn’t just spent six months living in each other’s pockets and having some of the most bizarrely intimate sex of Alex’s life.

And friends is a noble intention, but. Alex still only has one friend who’s sucked him off in their driver’s room.

Allow yourself this happiness by Sonnenscheintraum

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

i can barely breathe (when you're here loving me)

When Lewis wakes up he knows he's going into rut. He will be able to get through the rainy and cold race in Spa if he takes enough suppressants.

But what if George by his side is actually making it worse for him to keep the rut in check?

How is he supposed to keep himself under control when George looks and smells like the most delicious way and makes him want to claim him?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

Lewis Hamilton may be the sweetest person who ever stepped on earth and choose not to see the truth, but he deserves so much more than a broken, thirteen years younger college student.

So George does what is best for him.

 See my Vision (tell ‘em) by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

“Feeling a little desperate, sweetheart?” It’s clearly rhetorical, but George nods anyway, and bites his lip at the conflicted emotions he sees cross Lewis’ face.

He knows it’s late, closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, but it’s been so long since they’ve had freedom to do whatever they want. He loves racing with his entirety, he even loves the intensive training and strict schedules, but he doesn’t love how the need to keep his body in perfect function for a race keeps him from Lewis.

George and Lewis have three weeks break between Monza and Singapore, and they just can’t wait anymore.

[strangersteddierthings]

Gut Instinct: Chapter 6 - Saturday

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Interlude] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[This chapter is mature. MDNI. It does fade to black though because I got too shy about writing and posting smut]

Munson follows him upstairs. It'll be nice to have the help now, as much as he wanted space back in the kitchen. Munson can carry the pillows while Steve gathers bedding. The couches in the rec room are comfortable but the room itself gets colder than the rest of the house at night. Due to the proximity to the garage.

He enters his room with the intention of just pulling his comforter off and stealing the pillows, and Eddie follows after.

"Jesus, Harrington! What in plaid hell?"

Steve takes in his walls, the realization that it's been a long while since someone else besides him was in it. Well, Robin's been up here a few times, but they prefer to hang out in the living room.

"I didn't pick the wallpaper, man," Steve says even as he frowns at the walls, "but, uh, yeah. I really should move to a different room, huh."

Munson barks a laugh. "Just gonna move into one of the guest rooms instead of deal with this?"

"Sure," Steve agrees, amused, "I'll just shut this door and tape a sign up that just says Torture Chamber on it. Lock any of the gremlins in here for being too annoying or something."

That gets him a real laugh from Munson, who also looks surprised that he laughed. Which reminds him.

"Did you get to look at the note?"

Munson looks at him, confusion clear on his face.

“The one I gave you after the basketball game?”

The confused look clears and Munson says, "oh, uh, no. It's- I think it's in the van?"

"Your van!" Steve exclaims, suddenly remembering the abandoned vehicle. Macx had said she say Eddie flee in it. They should go get it before someone finds it. "we should go get it, while it's dark out. Where did you-"

Steve, who had turned on heel and was heading to the door, is stopped by Munson, a hand landing solidly on his chest even as he also moves to block the door. "Dude! No! It's hidden, and nowhere near your house. People are gonna know I'm here if they see it."

"Did you miss the empty three car garage we parked in somehow? No one will see it. Especially not if we go get it right now, in the dark."

Munson doesn't look convinced, as his eyes flick away from Steve to his window and back. It would have been missable, the tension in Munson suddenly, except his hand is still on Steve's chest and he feels the twitch of it as Munson seems to steel himself against his own thoughts and- oh.

Munson's entire life has been upended and it's just now coming up on the 24-hour mark. It was just last night that he watched Chrissy die. God, Steve's an idiot. Of course, he doesn't want to go on a midnight adventure to retrieve his van. He probably just wants to try and get some sleep.

Steve brings one of his own hands up to cover Munson's, and aims for reassuring and calm as he says, "Hey. Yeah, it can wait. We got more important things to do tonight."

That brings Munson's eyes back to his face, when they had previously been staring at Steve's hand covering Munson's own. Steve can see some of the old fight and fire back in Munson's eyes. It makes him look less like a traumatized man and more like the person he was when Steve was in school with him, ranting on cafeteria tables and unafraid of anything.

It makes Steve want to kiss him.

He pulls away before he acts on that urge and moves to his dresser. "I'll just get changed and then we can get cozy."

"What side do you normally sleep on? Or, do you have a favorite pillow I shouldn't use?" Eddie asks once Steve's retrieved his own pair of sweats and turned back around. Eddie is eyeing the bed but turns his gaze to Steve while he waits for an answer.

"Uh, no favorite pillow. Just, pick whatever. I'll be right back. Gotta brush my teeth," Steve dips out the room and down the hall to the bathroom.

He's not in the bathroom long. Brushes his teeth and changes, throwing the day’s clothes into the pile he made by the door earlier. He realizes he didn't bring a t-shirt and debates putting the polo back on but decides he doesn't need it. He can sleep without a shirt, it's not like Munson's never seen a guy without a shirt on.

“Okay, so I’ve got more blankets in the-” Steve starts to say as he enter his room, cutting himself off as he loses his train of thought. Munson has not stripped the bed, as Steve thought he would, but instead has crawled into it.

He’s on the far side of the bed, laying on his back, but his face is turned towards the door when Steve enters. He’s under the covers, his own shirt removed if the bare arms and shoulders he can see are any indication. His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see that Steve is staring at him.

It occures to Steve only now that Munson might have misunderstood where Steve meant for them to sleep.

“Are you going to actually get in the bed, or stare all night?” Munson grumbles without opening his eyes.

Steve should probably clear up the misunderstanding. He should.

Except that he doesn’t feel bad about not doing it. There’s no churning in his gut that says this is a bad idea. Munson seems alright with sharing a bed, and Steve’s slept in the same bed with friends before.

Steve flicks off the light and crosses the room, crawling into his bed and settling on his back, mirroring Munson.

It’ll be fine.

It’s about fifteen minutes of what feels like awkward silence when Munson rolls over in the dark, and Steve does his best to not move. He's probably just rolling in his sleep. It’s been long enough to fall asleep, right? And Munson’s probably exhausted.

Fingers brush his side and goosebumps break out in their wake. Those fingers retreat, and Steve thinks perhaps it was an accident, Munson reaching for something in his sleep that isn't there. But then, the fingers return, press more firmly to his side, sliding along the waistband of his sweats. He feels his muscles spasm beneath Munson's hand and he doesn't know if he wants to pull away or push into it.

"Eddie?" he whispers into the darkness.

"Is this- do you not want...?" Munson whispers back, trailing off his question. He doesn't move his hand away but he does halt its movement.

Does Steve want? Yes, of course he does. He's been simmering on just this side of horny since Munson manhandled him into the wall of the boathouse, bottle to his neck notwithstanding. However, Munson's had a shit 24 hours and needs decent sleep, not Steve being a horndog.

Although.

Steve knows a good orgasm can help with falling asleep. And if Munson is wound up, he's more than willing to help.

He's been silent too long, it seems, because Munson's hand starts to retreat.

"No, no, I do want," Steve breathes out in a rush, bringing his far hand to land atop Munson's -Eddie's- hand, because if he’s going to get off with him, he’s no longer going to be just ‘Munson’ in Steve’s mind. Steve placing his hand on Eddie’s does halt Eddie, so Steve trails his fingertips up Eddie's arm to his elbow and back down to his hand. "But, do you? It's been a long day for you, I think, and we can just sleep."

Eddie let's out a harsh breath, "I'm in thee Steve Harrington's bed and the only thing that's going to be happening is sleep?"

Steve doesn't know what to say to that. Doesn't get why Eddie said his name like that or what he means. Is he being sarcastic? Is he teasing? "I mean, yeah. Beds are for sleeping."

"Do you want this or not?" Eddie asks, slipping a couple fingers beneath his waistband.

Yes, Steve thinks, but you do? His stomach clenches, not really nausea but certainly not the good feeling of the Just Knowing he's gotten used to. He grabs onto Eddie's hand, lifting it from his body and shifting it so they're palm to palm. Steve links his fingers with Eddie's but he doesn't fully return the grip. He hears Eddie's soft gasp as he scoots closer, rolling over and propping himself up at the last moment, taking the hand intertwined with Eddie's as he goes, pressing that hand into the pillow near Eddie's head so that Steve is somewhat hovering over him now. The light is dim but it's enough that Steve can see Eddie's face, see that his eyes are open and wide. "Do you want this?"

He watches as Eddie's brow furrows, like Steve's asked a complex question and not for simple consent. "I- isn't this what you wanted?"

"What?"

"You!" Eddie basically shouts, and if Steve didn't currently have one of Eddie's hands pinned to the bed and the other trapped between their bodies, he's certain Eddie would have thrown them in the air. "You've been, like, super suggestive all fucking night, dude, and I thought- it seemed like you were implying a certain way you'd like to end the night! I... Did I get the wrong read here?"

Steve's a little embarrassed that he's been this obvious. He did try to keep his attraction under wraps, if only to not make Eddie uncomfortable. But he doesn't seem uncomfortable about realizing Steve's little crush on him. And he reached out first. "Yes. Or, no, you didn't read this, me, wrong, but I wasn’t trying to- it's late and you just learned monsters exists, so we can-"

"Great. You want, I want, can we get on with it? You said there were plenty of ways to distract from the horrors. So, distract me, or whatever," Eddie huffs and Steve feels him half roll towards him, hooking a leg over Steve's before falling back to the mattress, a move which pulls Steve closer, his leg slotting in between Eddie's, who now rolls his hips to rub against his leg.

A grin spreads across Steve's face slowly. "Oh, I can distract." He shifts, clasping tighter at the hand already holding Eddie's, gets his leg into a better position for Eddie to roll his hips against and leans down to nose at Eddie's neck, drags his lips along its wake. He's pleased by the soft sigh Eddie lets out, head falling to the side to allow Steve more access. His hair, wild and curly, is in the way, so Steve places his weight on his elbow and uses his free hand to sweep the hair away before dropping a kiss on his shoulder, then another further up, and another. "You okay with biting?"

"Fuck, yeah," Eddie hisses out and Steve grins against his neck, placing a few more kisses there before opening his mouth to nip playfully. Never fully biting down, not in the way Eddie seems to want if the hand that's freed itself from between them and found purchase on the back of his head, trying to push Steve closer is any indication. But that's not what Steve meant by biting; he's more a 'little love nips' kind of man, soothing them quickly with kisses and licks.

"I thought you were going to bite," Eddie groans, sounding annoyed even as he rolls his hips against Steve's thigh.

"I am biting," Steve ends the sentence by nibbling up and down Eddie's neck quickly, which earns him an honest to God giggle from Eddie, who frees his hand from Steve's grasp to shove it into Steve's face, pushing him up and away from his neck. Muffled by Eddie's palm now, Steve adds, "what, too much?"

"Jesus Christ, you are the biggest dork on the planet," Eddie mutters but from between Eddie's spread fingers, Steve can see he looks almost fond. "is this how you treat everyone you bring to bed?"

"Hmm, no," Steve mumbles into the palm still in his face before pressing a kiss there, "just the ticklish ones."

"I am not ticklish!" Eddie squawks indignantly, dropping the hand from Steve's face down to Steve's shoulder. "It just felt weird."

"Pretty sure weird feelings that make you laugh means you're ticklish."

"Yeah, well, you promised biting. Not... whatever the fuck that was," Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Just getting a nibble," Steve grins down at him before grinding his leg against Eddie's cock. God, the feel of him. Steve wants to touch him so bad suddenly. The desire to feel the weight of him in his hand, the velvety feeling along his palm, how his cock might feel in Steve's mouth, how a different a dick not his own in his hand might feel, all of it hits Steve hard.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a dork,” Eddie says, in a tone of breathless disbelief. Steve thinks the two, the breathlessness and the disbelief, are seperate from each other but he has no real way of knowing. “Have you always been a dork? Does this work for you?”

“It’s working on you right now isn’t it?” Steve lowers his head to whisper the words into Eddie’s ear, “you still want me to touch your dick, right?”

Eddie’s silence is enough to tell Steve that he’s right.

He turns his face into Eddie’s neck and presses his lips to the skin there once more. He drags his lips down to where neck and shoulder meet, pressing a kiss there and trailing them a bit across his shoulder before he finally bites down, pulling a pleased sounding his from Eddie then.

“Can I leave a mark?” Steve asks. He wants to, the possessive part of him wanting to leave a large hickey on Eddie’s neck for people to see and question. Nevermind that the only people who will be seeing him for an unknown amount of time is pretty limited.

“No,” Eddie is quick to say. Steve tries not to let it sting. It makes sense, after all. How would they explain the hickey when the only person Eddie’s been around is Steve? And no matter how much Steve trusts everyone, he still hasn’t come out to them. He wants to do it on his terms, and not because they put two and two together.

Also, Eddie definitely gets a say in whether or not anyone knows about him.

“Well,” Eddie adds, softer than his ‘no’ was, “I guess if it’s somewhere it’ll be hidden by clothing that’s fine.”

That sounds like a good compromise. “Good to know.”

Eddie’s snorted half-laugh turns into a groan as Steve’s hand, which he’d been slowly moving closer to Eddie’s dick, finally makes contact, rubbing teasingly through the boxers for just a moment. Steve adjusts his weight to get more space between his thigh and where he’s trying to slide his hand beneath Eddie’s boxers, tipping his head to look down between their bodies.

Turns out holding someone else’s dick in his hand does feel different. Everything he thought Eddie’s dick would feel like in his hand is true, though; the velvety skin, the weight of it, the warmth. The length is a pleasant surprise. Steve’s not going to whip his own dick out to measure right now, because he wants to focus on making Eddie feel good, but he would place good money on Eddie’s dick being a bit longer than his own.

Steve hopes that this isn’t a one-night, distract-from-the-horrors-only thing, because he really wants to have this dick inside him at some point. Despite the fact that all of Steve’s sexual experience has been woman, he’s experimented. He likes a dildo up the ass, so he thinks he’ll really like Eddie’s dick there.

“Fuck,” Eddie curses, reminding Steve that more than just Eddie’s dick is here in bed with him. A bit embarrassing to have forgotten the rest of the guy. “You’re quite a good distraction.”

Steve looks back up to Eddie’s face and gives a smirk. “I’m just getting started babe.”

[afoxintheuniverse]

Merry Christmas everyone and happy end of 2024! Good father in heaven help me this year has been a lot… but for now I’d like to share with you all a gift that I wrote for one of the best friends I could have hoped to make this year and in this new fandom: Transformers War Chronicles. Please check out her content on both instagram and YouTube as she is seriously so overwhelmingly talented! She loved this gift and insisted I share it with the world. So, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy this little geeky gift from me to you! Happy Holidays and God Bless!

“Mistletoes’ meaning” An Opilita Christmas fic Inspired by Transformers War Chronicles! Merry Christmas Bestie!!! Written By CJ The Fox

“Finally…” Elita groaned practically slumping through the door as Optimus held it open for her. “Thanks…” she sighed pulling together enough strength to smile up at him. He smiled back though not able to hide the exhaustion in his eyes any better than she could have. He slid the wooden door closed behind them before sweeping a bit of the fallen snow off his shoulders and arms. He glanced back at Elita who immediately flashed a look that paused his hand in the air beside her. “Fine…” she relented quietly, aggressive smirk fading into a soft smile and head tilting to the side, plumes of the snow to falling off and onto the ground. The faintest blue glow flushed against her cheeks as she quirked her eyebrow up at him. Internally, she fought to decide if she should avoid eye contact or maintain it harder. They both knew if he’d brought it up, she would try to blame it on the cold. They had just come inside after all! Oh, she would try~ They also both knew even with his battle mask still pulled up above his sinuses Optimus was no doubt giving her a delighted scrap eating grin beneath it. She huffed, smile still on her face as she jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. The two chuckled quietly together as he finished brushing the last little bits of snow off the top of helmet. His digits slid down the side of her helm just a bit to hold her chin up between his fingers. Elita gulped at his touch the glow of her face brightening ever further as he looked at her. Seemingly satisfied, eyes still alight with his hidden and certainly smugger smile, he slid his fingertips back up the side of her helm brushing the last bit of snow off her glowing cheek.

“The erm… The festival hall truly is something special…” He pondered aloud glancing to the side at the room they now stood in. Elita followed his gaze falling into silent agreement. It wasn’t any of the meeting halls of Cybertron. Hell, it wasn’t even one of the castles these humans had, but she couldn’t deny…they’d definitely put in some work for their guests. According to Optimus or at the very least what he said the officers had told him; this had been a bomb shelter that had been refurbished into a deluxe garage. What was once an obscure base in the middle of nowhere had become where farm equipment, racing and show horses and military balls would be held. The building had been decorated for just such an occasion and then some. Despite the minimal to nonexistent furniture, the room had a removable wooden floor placed covered in faded footprints of occasions come and gone. On both sides of the building were thick panel windows showing the regrowing storm outside. Since they were still bulletproof, the howls of the wind instead became whispering ambience against the swirly sky outside. Finally, there were the lights, hundreds of thousands of twinkling white bulbs wrapped around the cornering support beams and wooden roofing. Alongside more lights, a stone fireplace had been hollowed out in the final thicker support beam at the center of the room, glowing with the warm blaze crackling inside.

“I’m not sure if you bots need beds or anything but uhhhh here…” Optimus had remembered the building director saying as he’d showed him the giant gymnastic pads laid out in front of the fire. It was no recharge slab, but the thought was considerate. And sure, there was enough room for them to have their own mats to themselves… Optimus glanced back at Elita as she still slowly spun staring at the humble yet festive display surrounding them. Maybe it was that the snow had melted, making an already glistening paint job that much more reflective. Maybe it was that the humans had truly outdone themselves with the decorating for a place intended for mere safety. Maybe it was that it was just the two of them. Maybe… Maybe it was just her. As if in a trance he took slow yet purposeful steps toward her. The beams danced across her figure, like the fireflies they had seen in the summers on this strange new planet. Or the neon ribbons that decorated buildings almost matching Iacon’s own advertising. The shimmer seemed to accentuate all of the strength and beauty that made Elita well… Elita. From the scars and scrapes to the way she carried herself with the authority of a leader alongside the wonder of seeing this world for the very first time to the gentle elegance of what it meant to be a femme. She smiled again up at him before he even realized he had crossed the room over to her. She returned her optics to the wooden rafters now covered with glittering beams and fake yet lush foliage. Her expression and physique together were giving the glow of the fire and even Op’s own spark some serious competition. Yeah… separate mats… like that was gonna happen.

“Alright I’ll admit it. This is pretty nice…” She smirked crossing her arms and tilting her hips to the side. Optimus closed the rest of the gap between them, placing a hand on her shoulder as she shifted her weight onto her other hip against him. She leaned her head into the side of his chest plate, closing her optics for a moment before looking up at him then passed him. “It’s… Beautiful…” She sighed as if admitting defeat to the beauty of their building. Optimus leaned back warm eyes ever present, sliding his hand across her back before letting it drape across the other shoulder, thumb gently rubbing where her shoulder met her chest. “Huh… What’s that?” Elita piped, suddenly pulling away from Optimus yet also grabbing him by the hand.

“Hm?” Optimus blinked trying to process her having been so close, pressed up against him to suddenly pull him to the middle of the room optics still on the ceiling.

“That! Right there That plant’s different from the others. Is it supposed to be there? Or is it a ‘weed’ as humans call it? Or is the plant just blooming?” While still slightly confused, Optimus followed her fingertip, sure enough on one of the rafters, the false foliage had come to a stop to leave a small section of bare wood. Tied on the bark was what appeared to be a small upside-down bush with white berries or seeds sprouting in the leaves. The base had been tied with a shiny red bow that looped up around the wood plank as if turning it into a present.

“Oh!” Optimus blinked again in recollection; he had seen this plant before as well had its meaning explained to him. “O-oh…” He repeated, needing to clear his throat a bit.

“What?” Elita perked up at him. “What is it?” I can cut it out if it’s invading the other plant life. Or does the whole bush need to be disposed of?” Without skipping a beat, she pulled her laser pistol from her hip and aimed it at the foreign fauna as it hummed to life.

“Ah! No no! No no no!” Optimus half yelped half laughed reaching up to stop her weapon. “Th-That won’t be necessary my dear!” Besides it wasn’t exactly like they needed to test the durability of this place from the inside. Even if they were still learning about how earth worked, shooting a hole in the ceiling didn’t seem like the most polite thing to do… “There’s nothing wrong I can assure you!” He spoke as calmly and cheerfully as he could manage, nervousness not quite hidden from his voice.

“Oh ok.” Elita shrugged nonchalantly giving the gun a quick twirl in her hand before sliding it back into her holster. “So, what is it then?” “Well…” Optimus put a free hand behind his head nervously glancing at the floor. The building director had explained the meaning of this plant to him when he’d been shown where he and Elita could be staying to wait out the winter storm.

“Sorry sir, I think that was just left over from our usual holiday decoration set up. But we can take it down! I didn’t know if you and your uh… your friend there- Well, is she? Uh- sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Its fine.” Optimus had laughed, albeit a bit flustered at the topic, but shame was never an emotion that registered in his sensors. There was nothing to be ashamed of. He could NEVER be ashamed. Not of her. Not ever. “She… She is.”

“Oh thank, God…” The director heaved more to himself than to the massive living machine now harboring an entire event hall like a hotel. Ever since that conversation, a small part of Optimus both expected and hoped that she would find the spirited sprout on that ceiling just to have this very talk.

“It’s called a Mistletoe.” Optimus began. Sliding his palm and fingertips carefully down her arm until it once again connected with her hand. “Obviously it’s a type of plant here on this planet but the ones in here are all fake as to not extinguish any resources as well as save time on cleaning. I’ve done some research on the real blooms though!”

“Of course, you did...” Elita giggled, rolling her eyes ever so slightly as she leaned closer letting the backs of their arms slide and softly bump against one another in their swaying postures. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you book bot.” She could tell he grinned that typical yet classical geeky grin beneath his mask. Bashful yet not embarrassed of his knowledge nor the work he had put in to gain it. For that her respect renewed thought she would never admit it out loud… at least not right now… No matter how much of a fighter he had become deep down he would always be that shy archivist and student ready to learn and to cherish anything and everything he could see. “Heh…” So that was how she’d fallen for a geek…

“It can actually grow on common human foods such as the apple trees we saw on the way here!” He continued his voice carrying that usual professionalism he had acquired from leading teams but unable to mask the genuine excitement as he gestured with his free hand. “Or oak trees which as you already know provide them with portions of their atmosphere. You weren’t completely wrong in calling it ‘weed like’ though, as it is actually an invasive species.”

“Really?”

“Mhm!” He nodded. “It can actually cause a disease for the base plant leading to weakened sprouts, that need to be cut out or…” He pointed back to her holster. “What you had suggested. Though shotguns are typically the human’s choices for removal.”

“Well damn! I guess it’s a good thing they’re all plastic then, huh? Elita laughed bumping her hip against the side of his thigh before leaning completely against him. The back of her head was almost nuzzling his chest as she made herself comfortable, hand never leaving his.

“Indeed.” Optimus laughed as well though softer, almost politely as he lingered his gaze on her before returning it to the plant. “Yet despite that, it’s become a symbol on this planet. A signal of tradition.”

“Oh yeah? What of?” Elita mused, finally letting her weight fully against him and lifting their intertwined hands up to her shoulder. Op smiled closing his grasp and leaning a bit of his own weight atop her though cautious to not become too heavy.

“It’s meant to be a sign of… of connection, good will… or love.”

“O-Oh?” Elita stuttered suddenly. Optimus could feel her grip twitch in his own at the last word her entire body engaging in a split-second jolt against him. She tried to cover it up and act as if it hadn’t happened with that firm voice remark. Oh, she tried. He had to fight the urge to tease her, not wanting to risk ruining the moment or receiving one of her impressive right hooks in his arm. His smile practically peeking over the mask he kept going.

“And… when two people who just so happen to love one another… at least romantically…” Elita’s eyes widened. Yet another key word seemed to strike her like a blow, her face illuminating instantaneously. “…Stand beneath this plant, it is customary for them…to also… exchange a kiss.” Elita tensed in his grip her hand tightening slightly again, not quite a squeeze. It was the noticeable pressure and stiffness of her body locking in place.

“Huh…” It was all she could manage to get out and it was still a hoarse squeak. The attempt at nonchalance failed worse than one of StarScream’s leadership endeavors. He could feel the hum of her spark as it began to quicken its pace against his palm. She stared intently at the plant desperate to not look at him. Her eyes practically burned into it as much as her pistol would have, maybe even more so. It felt so obvious now… During the entire conversation she could feel his pulse rising too! Slower and calmer than hers, yes but still… She had just figured it was because he always showed that sweet excitement when sharing his knowledge with her. Or maybe it was because she had been enjoying it, like every time he did so. No... she should have seen this coming... She should… She looked up at him, just like at the door, it was a sight to behold. The lights sparkling around them tracing his every distinguished feature from the tips of his antenna to the base of that sharp jaw. Yet of course those lights could never compare to those eyes as they glistened in the gentle darkness. The humans were right, eyes truly were the windows to the soul or in their case, spark. Those eyes could tell his entire legacy without a single word in any language in any universe. They showed the exhaustion of maintaining so much and so many at once. The hours upon hours of research, reading and learning. The knowledge of so much good and bad in the galaxy. Secrets and truths that belonged to both of them and probably all of their loved ones too. Information that he would take to his grave if that’s what it took. The quiet sorrow of knowing too much and not knowing enough and seeming to wish for neither and both simultaneously. And despite all of it, the blue glow remained bright, just as it had when she had first met that geeky archivist all those cycles ago. It showed the intense focus it took to be quick thinking and deeply pondering. The curiosity of always being ready to learn something new and to share that knowledge with others. It showed wisdom gained from periods of lessons learned in easy and hard ways. It showed kindness, patience and composure, though there was clearly a silent joy gleaming beneath all that stupid stoicism. So powerful… eyes certainly belonging to someone with this level of strength. Not just the physical strength he had obtained over the years, not even the mental strength he had had before that, but the strength of his character. The strength of what it meant to be Optimus Prime. And yet his gaze was soft as if the massive hulking strength he possessed was merely an illusion as he gently rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand. She had almost forgotten she was holding it. Almost…

“Optimus?” She spoke before registering the words leaving her lips. Swallowing again almost as if wishing she hadn’t said anything. Her face showed all of the indecision and jumbled thoughts her mind was trying and failing to organize as her eyes itched to look away but didn’t. Optimus stared back at her; face as serene as ever. He tilted his head slightly to the side allowing his antenna to wiggle slightly at the movement as he waited for her to continue in the silence following his name. “Uh…Do you think that… that uh…” Her mouth hung slightly open with unspoken words before she swallowed the rest of the sentence. He quirked up an eyebrow at her before looking down to their hands as slowly grabbed the other one. Elita followed his gaze, trembling slightly as he intertwined the second set of digits between his own.

“Yes…” Optimus knelt onto one knee, his face now level with hers. He cupped both of her hands within his and pulled her slightly closer to him. Keeping her hands wrapped up snugly in his grasp, he raised his other arm to place it on her shoulder. “…Elita?” If she wasn’t at a loss for words before, she sure as hell was now. “Strong enough to be gentle” he had said once… In this moment, those words described him perfectly. His eyes overflowed with the most overwhelming yet soothing presence in the universe: Love. And that love, that presence that power, was directed at her. The glow of her face was making a mockery of the surrounding bulbs and flames. She could feel her Energon prickling behind her cheeks and spark pounding wildly in her chest as it echoed in her audials.

“A- ahh… Uhm…” Her failing words were going to give Starscream competition at this rate.

“Are you alright?” His brow furrowed eyes glinting in concern, He leaned in pulling her almost completely to his chest as he placed his hand holding hers just above his spark. Elita shivered at the touch of him tracing his thumb up the side of her neck to cup the side of her face in his palm needing to bite her lip and squeeze her optics shut to keep from making any noises. Well… at least more than the squeak that slipped out…How could something tickle so badly and feel like a massage at the same time?! She was gonna be as good as a smelting pot… He tilted her face towards his own as she vented shakily letting her eyes reopen to be met with his worried visage. He studied her lifting her chin with his fingertips before returning them to his hand at the side of her helm again. Primus, he HAD to know how sweet it was! It was the same way he always checked on her after a battle, making sure she was unharmed before making sure Ratchet examined her anyway. He cared for all his soldiers and friends, yes. He didn’t even treat her better than anyone else, no favoritism or biases to the best of his abilities. And still, the urgency, the protectiveness the compassion, even if it was just as strong as he carried it for all his allies, a difference was there, and it was obvious.

“Yeah! I- I’m fine!” Elita practically spluttered taking a slight step backwards yet not removing her hands from his chest, nor tilting her cheek from his touch. “I just…” She stared up at him, feeling his spark thrumming against her hands, her own still echoing in her audials. Though his face had lightened slightly at her reassurance, his eyes still wore the weight of a familiar concern, almost sadness. Even if that look was familiar to her, she hated seeing it in his eyes. Maybe she hated it because it was so familiar to her. It wasn’t like either of them had ever been given a choice for what gave him that expression… “It’s nothing” she sighed breaking their gaze to glance at her hands on his spark then the ground. “I’m sorry I- I shouldn’t have said anything…” Optimus drew back slightly at this, seeming slightly hurt as she’d gone silent again. He let out a quiet vent, closing his optics as Elita squeezed her own shut before hanging her head further towards the ground, guilt growing more apparent by the second. Optimus shifted his hand slightly lower on the side of her face letting one of the tips of her helmet slide between his fingers as he worked the others beneath her chin tilting her face back towards him but not pulling it up again either. Gathering her resolve Elita looked at him. His eyes still had the same softness, but it wasn’t quite sad, not anymore. Her brows lifted in surprise as face plate slid neatly into their slots alongside his neck and helmet allowing a full yet still mostly neutral expression to be shown. He exhaled softly again lips sliding up into a soft smile, then a full-on smirk as he playfully arched an eyebrow at her again. It was softer than how he’d looked at her before, but this was a face she knew all too well, one she’d seen him make and probably even made herself more times than she could count. It was the face he’d made when Bumblebee pulled off an impressive trick but got himself hurt in the process. It was the face he made as WheelJack would ramble on about his ideas for inventions before he’d need to be reminded of budget, limited amounts of fire extinguishers and sometimes even what was and wasn’t scientifically possible, whether he had something to say about it or not. It was the face he made as Ratchet would rant and rave about how this entire team was ‘comprised of idiots’ then work himself to the core making sure his patients recovered. Optimus didn’t need to say a single word as his expression said it all not quite mocking yet still slightly teasing. Not feeling sorry for her in a condescending way but certainly obvious sympathy even potential threads of pity. Yep… Optimus was giving her his best ‘Oh what are we going to do with you?’ face. Son of a- He was doing the slow head shake and even had the GALL to let out that stupid soft chuckle! Elita scrunched her face back up at him, letting out a little grumble under her breath of words she hadn’t come up with yet. Optimus only laughed louder, failing to keep his entertainment to a closed mouth anymore and making Elita’s eyebrow twitch in irritation. He composed himself again taking in another deep vent as Elita glared, though he could see the sides of her lips twitching slightly. She was clearly desperate not to give him the satisfaction of smiling or cracking up too. So, didn’t give her time to do so.

She could only gasp as in one soft yet fluid motion, Optimus pulled her hands back into his chest with one hand lifting her face slightly again with the other before leaning in and planting a kiss on her cheek. He firmly pressed then held his lips there, sleepily closing his eyes. Elita’s jaw dropped, and eyes widened as far as they could go. She could feel her spark practically doing summersaults within her chest. Slowly and hesitantly, he pulled back, blinking his optics open. Even though she could clearly see him smiling at her with his nose almost brushing against her own, she could still feel his lips on her face. Wordlessly she slid her hands out from Optimus’s to touch it to the side of her cheek where they had been almost as if not believing it had really happened. Optimus brought his now free hand back to the base of his helmet glancing away for a moment before reclosing his optics and laughing. It was a joyous yet sheepish expression of delight and with his optics reclosed it was now more obvious the glow of his face wasn’t just coming from his eyes. Elita remained silent as he composed himself again and stared a bit behind him at the ground while lowering his hand from his head.

“Ha Ha Ha… Ahem… Ah... Merry Christmas Eli- mmMPH!” Elita had also given him no warning as she grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back down towards her, shoving her lips on his with a muffled grunt. It wasn’t quite ‘slamming’ into a kiss, but she definitely wasn’t being slow or gentle as he was either. Optimus’s optics snapped wide open while Elita seemed to be squeezing hers as tight as they could go, face pressed hard against his. She dared to peek an eye open slowly beginning to pull away as Optimus was now the one with his mouth hanging open, their lips still brushing against one another. She paused, opening her eyes the rest of the way as Optimus placed one hand on her hip the other slowly tracing its way back onto her arm and up her shoulder. Optimus’s own eyes were a question, a request for permission that he never would have needed to ask, yet he always did anyway. She answered with her smile and the whisper of laughter she finally let out. He smiled back before reclosing his optics and resealing their connection. Elita sighed peacefully, finally giving into him completely as he opened his mouth further to further secure the kiss. She reciprocated, soft mewls escaping between any gaps. Smiling against her, he pulled her closer to him their chests firmly pressed and sliding against one another. Elita arched her posture into the placement of his hand as he slid his open palm from her hips to glide across her back. She shivered again, not bothering to hide it this time. Her own arms slid down tracing her hands over his chest. His spark hummed strong against her caress before she reached back up his shoulders to wrap her arms around the back of his head. Whether the neck hug had pulled her higher or him lower couldn’t be deciphered, all they knew was that their chests were now perfectly aligned, sparks beating as one. Optimus tilted his head into the embrace, letting out a content sigh of his own. He shifted his weight slightly on his knees to lean further over her. Pressing his hand firmly between her shoulder blades, his fingers twitched as they tried not to curl and scrape against her plating. His other hand dragged down the side of her body, outlining the delicate form in his arms. Elita slowly raised her leg, starting to wrap it around Optimus’s waist as he continued his graceful glide from the top, side and finally to the base of her thigh. She leaned further into his supporting hand as he gave her thigh a gentle squeeze before lifting her into the air. The sudden rush of movement causing Elita to let out a surprised

“Oh!” Optimus laughed, leaning his helm against hers before raising his eyebrows in an expression that both teased yet also asked genuinely if she was alright. Elita blinked a few times before returning his laughter. She let out a sigh rolling her eyes. Whether the eyeroll was at herself or at him he couldn’t tell but didn’t care though. Her lips were on his again still slightly snickering against the contact. Optimus let out a half laugh, half exhale and continued to stand. In a single slow spin, he allowed both of their full weight to return to the bottoms of his feet. Both of their forms were silhouetted against the soft glow of the fireplace embers glinting against the metal figures. It was a dance that no one needed to see, not even the dancers. Especially not the dancers. He slid his forearm completely under both of Elita’s legs, lifting her to where she was now the one leaning over him. Optimus squeezed her legs snugly with the inside of his elbow while now supporting her uplifted leg below the knee. He arched his own back now as she leaned forward almost laying across his chest at an angle slowly lifting one of her feet. She wrapped her arms up and past his shoulders to hold his face in her hands. Elita murmured, her expression hardening slightly as she wrapped an arm around his head. She tilted her face to the side and pressed her face harder into his. She practically had his head in a locked hug, one arm wrapped all the way around to have her knuckles brushing her shoulder. The other arm traced up behind the first, lifting her fingers and twirling them around one of his antennae. Whether he was too polite or too shy to tell her how much he enjoyed it, the appreciative groan as she firmly massaged the tip between her digits was plenty. He slid his arm further around her back to better hold her up, his hand cradling the back of her helm. The two pressed in hard on one another one last time before finally breaking the kiss. Both bots held their optics closed as they slowly flickered back into their senses. Steam softly plumed from their vents and into one another’s gaping mouths, combining into single white puffs before fading into the air. Optimus opened his optics finally seeming to have caught his breath. His quirked, almost embarrassed grin perfectly reflected the irony in beings lacking lungs to have become so winded. Elita followed suit her eyes fluttering open now looking down at Optimus instead of up like usual. She took in a deep vent before blurting out the first thought that entered her mind.

“Merry Christmas Optimus…” she whispered, tilting her head to the side and tracing her fingers along the side of his face. Optimus beamed up at her, before closing his optics and smiling wider, leaning into her touch. Her faint smile began trickling its way further across her lips as she considered another silent conversation. His own raised eyebrows and questioning optics let her know just how little he minded the thought. “I love you…”

Thank you for making it to the end if you’ve read this far! I hope you got in some nice holiday opilita feels or even learned something new about mistletoe as I did writing this!