#he’s so funny. I also don’t know what has gripped me but I filled like. 15 pages of my sketchbook today

[guilty-pleasures21]

Can you do a Jason todd x half dragon reader? (As in, she has wings and a tail, and personally, I imagine that her wings and tail are like a Night Fury's.)

With tooth rotting fluff and wholesome cuddles. And maybe a sun and moon dynamic, but Jason is the sun, and she's the moon? Also, if at all possible, I love it if she acts like a literal cat. Cat eyes and all.

Thank you for your consideration! ❤️

(This is going to become a common opening for me now) Sorry I took so long! I really hope this is what you're looking for! I only realised after I'd finished it that I'd put in a bit of a slow burn instead of an overload of cuddles and fluff, but I think that's because I was focusing more on the sun and moon dynamic 😅. Anyway, if you're not happy with it, just let me know and I can always try again 😅.

Jason Todd x Half-dragon!Reader

Warnings: none.

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     The Red Hood perched on a rooftop, surveying the darkened alley for any hints of a shady deal. Thankfully, the drug dealers in the area seemed to have taken his threats seriously and stayed away from the routes he knew the teenagers in Gotham frequented on their way to and from the usual hangout spots in the city. Jason pushed himself to his feet, ready to call it a night and head home, but then he spotted something unexpected. He crouched down and watched curiously as something dark and elegant flew through the air, its outline barely illuminated by the moonlight that shone down on … scales? 

     Jason straightened, utterly confused by what he was seeing … but that only drew the strange creature’s attention to him. Jason stepped back as the creature flew towards him, but he knew he was much too slow to escape it if it intended on attacking him. So, he reached for his holster, ready to defend himself if it came to it. But then the creature stepped into the light and Jason found himself even more confused by the sight before him. 

     She stepped forward and studied the strange man curiously. He was wearing some sort of … helmet? A bright red one with little indentations for his eyes, it seemed. It looked quite ridiculous, really, but she supposed that only someone not entirely in his right mind would have been bounding across the rooftops of the city this late at night. 

     Holy shit, she was beautiful! With her (dark/light) and (curly/silky) hair, her smooth and (fair/tanned) skin and her long and toned limbs. And those stunning wings he’d caught a glimpse of before she’d folded them into her back? Wide and dark with just a hint of a shimmer as the moonlight reflected off of her scales. He abandoned his grip on the handle of his gun and clasped his hands behind his back instead, rocking back and forth on his heels as he tried to figure out what to say. 

     “Funny, I … I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight.” Jason chuckled awkwardly, then immediately berated himself mentally. F*ck. What an idiot! ‘I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight’? Ugh, she was probably going to set him on fire now and honestly? He completely deserved it. 

     She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his relaxed demeanour: people - if they ever managed to catch a glimpse of her in her true form - didn’t usually react in such a manner when they saw her. Usually, they’d start screaming in fear and begging for their lives. Or they’d try to shoot her down and hurt her with any sort of weapon they could find. Both options were horrible in their own way. But this man … He’d … made a joke? 

     Jason folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the ground, growing more nervous with each second of silence that passed. He was just about to open his mouth to let another idiotic sentence spill out when thankfully, she decided to fill in the silence instead. 

     “I don’t remember the forecast calling for little matchsticks running around in the middle of the night,” she retorted calmly, her intense gaze still suspicious. Jason let out a short bark of laughter - much to his own surprise - and relaxed slightly before striding slowly over to her. 

     “Oh, sweetheart,” the strange man chuckled softly, causing an unexpected shiver to run down her spine. “I can assure you: I am not little.” 

     Her eyes widened with surprise at his crude comment, but she couldn’t deny the curious warmth that bloomed in her stomach at his suggestion. She took a step back, nervous to be confronted by such an unfamiliar feeling, and stumbled when her foot met nothing but air. She reached out, her arms flailing desperately as she tried to catch her balance, then she found herself pressed up against a broad chest, her fingers grazing hard muscles as the strange man held her close to him. She held her breath as her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, her body heating up with excitement at their sudden proximity, then she ducked out from beneath his grasp, putting some much needed distance between them. 

     “I-I … T-Thank you,” she stammered out, studiously avoiding his gaze, “but … you know I can fly, right?” 

     He grinned beneath his helmet, delighted by how flustered he seemed to have made her, but his own breath caught in his throat when she finally looked up at him again with wide eyes. Shit, she was gorgeous. 

     “Oh, I know that,” he reassured her, his arms still folded across his chest so she wouldn’t forget how large and strong they were, “but you looked like you forgot that for a second there.” 

     He took a step towards her, bringing them close to each other again, then he bent over to murmur softly to her. “Unless … you were just looking for an excuse to get me closer to you?” 

     She sucked in a breath and clenched her fists by her sides, outraged by the accusation. But damn, she looked cute, a soft little blush colouring her cheeks without her even realising it. Jason snickered softly, thrilled by her adorable and unwitting reaction, but suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in the back of his head. 

     “Ow!” the man exclaimed, clutching the back of his helmet where she’d just smacked him with her tail. He straightened and spread his arms wide, shooting her what she could only imagine was an incredulous look beneath his helmet. “This is the thanks I get for helping you out? Shit. What the hell do you do to people who actually try to hurt you, princess?” 

     She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by how rude she’d been - but the hint of laughter in his tone let her know that he wasn’t really bothered by her reaction. 

     “Sorry,” she apologised, reaching out to curl her fingers around his bicep and rub her thumb against his arm. Jason held his breath, terrified that even the slightest movement might cause her to pull away again. But thankfully, his easy demeanour seemed to have put her at ease. “I … I’m just not used to … to people … being nice to me.” 

     Jason swallowed down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat and reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

     “That’s all right,” he reassured softly, his voice so gentle and understanding. Then he bent over again slightly, leaning towards her like he was about to share a secret with her. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what that’s like either.” 

     She lowered her head as a snort of amusement escaped her mouth and Jason felt his heart melt at the sight of the cute little smile that lit up her face. She bit her lip, barely suppressing her smile, then let her fingers drift down to his forearm as she considered her next words. 

     “Well …” she began slowly, hesitating before speaking the words out loud. “Maybe … we could … figure it out … together?” 

     Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest as she waited for his answer. She didn’t know why, but something about this man just made her feel … comfortable. And that wasn’t a feeling she’d felt … ever? She dug her fingers into his arm as she chewed on her lip nervously, then she quickly released her grip on him, dropping her hand back to her side. “I mean-”

     “I’d like that!” Jason replied quickly, not giving her the chance to take it back. He knew how out of character it was for him to let someone in so quickly, but … there was just something about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was just that she knew what it was like to be outcast by society; to be forced into the darkness where no one would ever be able to hurt her. But whatever it was, he found himself curious to find out. 

     “I …” Jason began, trying to figure out how to contact her again. He scanned his surroundings, searching for some sort of idea, then it struck him. “Do you know that old bookshop on the corner of Apple and Kyle? The one run by that old man who’s just, like, somehow immune to every crazy thing that goes on in Gotham?” 

     She let out a soft laugh at his description and again, his heart melted into a warm puddle. 

     “I know the place,” she replied, doing her best to dampen the wide smile tugging on the corners of her lips. He was cute, but … she didn’t really know anything about him, so it was probably best if she continued to keep her guard up. At least until they got to know each other a little better. And besides, what if he turned out to be absolutely hideous beneath that helmet of his?! 

     “Great!” the man exclaimed, his enthusiasm starting to rub off on her. And he had such a nice voice - surely someone with such a smooth and buttery voice couldn’t be that hideous, right? “I’ll meet you there tomorrow night? Say … ten pm?” 

     It was late enough that most people would be off the streets, but not so late that she wouldn’t be able to get some rest before whatever she had planned for the next day. She flushed at his thoughtfulness and holy f*ck, that smile was going to lead him to some bad decisions someday soon. 

     “Sure,” she agreed, her tail flicking back and forth behind her with what he could only assume was excitement. Jason’s chest warmed at the thought and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

     Her tail flicked lazily over the sofa, occasionally brushing against Jason while they watched a movie on his television. It had turned into a weekly ritual - making popcorn and putting on an old movie from a list they’d found online. They’d been hanging out for a few weeks now and X had gradually allowed herself to become comfortable in his presence, letting more and more of her dragon traits show around and interact with him. He’d never bring it up for the fear that she might change her mind and retract into herself again, but he knew how important it was that she was willing to share that part of her with him. 

     “Okay, but, why is he building a death ray on a boat?” Jason asked, lifting one arm from where he’d slung it over the back of the sofa to gesture to the TV in confusion. “Is he planning to, like, kill the ocean or something?” X bit down on a smile, refusing to encourage his embarrassingly cringy sense of humour, and took a moment to smooth her features back into a neutral expression before replying. 

     “Killing the ocean is quite a serious crime,” X pointed out calmly. “You would destroy entire ecosystems and cause massive damage to the Earth. It is quite a brutally vicious plan, I must admit.” Jason narrowed his eyes at the hint of approval he thought he could hear in her otherwise emotionless tone. But he knew she was just teasing him: he could see the tiny curl at the ends of her lips as she chewed gracefully on her popcorn and the way she kept trailing the tip of her tail across the back of his neck and shoulders was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t being serious. It was something she’d started doing quite often lately, but she never seemed to notice when she was doing it - like it was some involuntary reflex she wasn’t aware of or something. But that only made it all the more torturous; how she didn’t even seem to realise the effect she was having on him. He’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom numerous times on multiple occasions and she probably thought he had some bladder infection or something by now. 

     “Careful, princess,” Jason warned her, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl she’d perched carefully on her lap, “you’re starting to sound like you’re impressed by him.” 

     X lowered her head as the smile overtook her features entirely. She still wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he genuinely had no idea what effect it had on her whenever he made his voice all low and breathy like that. Surely a man as large and confident as him had to know how attractive he was! But … X snuck a glance at Jason, his attention back on the movie now, and recalled all the things he’d told her about what he’d been through so far. He probably didn’t have the room to think about shallow things like that. X cleared her throat, pushing the inappropriate thoughts out of her mind, and shuffled a little closer to her friend, closing the minute sliver of distance that remained between them. 

     “Well, his plan is rather creative,” she admitted, always so thoughtful with her words. “If it truly even is his plan anyway. It’s a rather intelligent one, capable of causing great damage. I must applaud him for it.” 

     Jason curled his fingers around her wrist immediately - like she was actually going to raise her hands and start clapping for him - and X’s breath hitched in her throat when she turned to face him and saw how close his beautiful moss-green eyes suddenly were to hers. “Mmm, you really don’t have to, princess. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t applaud a mass murderer for, well, mass murdering. Or trying to, anyway. I promise!”

     And she laughed - a full-on cackle that started in her belly and poured out of her mouth and into his ears. Jason grinned at the sound, always so happy whenever he managed to provoke the rare reaction out of her. She was always so serious - so carefully composed - and he loved it when he managed to fluster her enough to make her take an even longer pause between her sentences or just lose control entirely. 

     She glanced up at him and stopped suddenly when she saw that he was watching her. She quickly settled back into her seat, focusing her attention on her popcorn so he wouldn’t see the blush she could feel lighting up her cheeks. But when she slid her gaze over to him, he was still looking at her with that admittedly handsome smile on his rugged features. 

     She picked up a kernel of popcorn and popped it into her mouth, but it did nothing to hide the shy little smile tugging insistently on her lips. Shit, she was so! Cute! He wished she’d just hurry up and make a move on him already. He was pretty sure that she liked him in the same way that he liked her, but he’d come to know her well enough to know that any attempts to initiate a … more intimate relationship on his part would only end up scaring her off. But he could be patient - it wasn’t like he’d ever met anyone who’d made him feel so … comfortable before, so at ease with himself. X pulled her legs back up onto the sofa, resuming her straight-backed, cross-legged position. But her tail continued to run across his body and the grin continued to stay stretched across his face as they watched the rest of the movie. 

     Jason moved fluidly between the large metallic crates of the docks, taking out thugs left and right. They’d gotten a tip about one of Falcone’s new shipments coming in that night and he, Dick and Tim had volunteered to go after it. 

     “All that money and this is the best Falcone could get?” Jason joked, easily knocking out yet another goon. “I could take these guys out in my sleep!” 

     “Careful what you wish for, Hood,” Tim warned him, tossing aside another two goons trying to stop them on their way to their target. He clapped his hands together, dusting them off, then joined up with Jason when he turned the corner. 

     “Yeah, this seems a little … underwhelming,” Dick pointed out, still holding onto his escrima sticks as they approached the containers they’d been looking for. Jason shrugged, already thinking about what he and X could do with the extra few hours he had now that their mission had ended so early. Maybe they could watch another movie? But they always watched movies. She liked watching movies though. And he liked the quiet moments with her, their bodies brushing up against each other as they cuddled up together on his sofa - yes, they’d reached the cuddling stage. But she still wouldn’t confess her feelings to him! 

     “Ah, shit,” Tim sighed suddenly, breaking into Jason’s thoughts. Jason looked up and let out a tired huff when he found more than a dozen thugs slipping out of the shadows and surrounding them: ‘shit’ was right. He glanced over at his brothers, a moment of silent understanding passing between them, then the three of them dove into the fray. 

     “Did Falcone … get a cloning machine … or something?!” Dick yelled as he tried to stave off a seemingly never-ending stream of thugs. Jason didn’t respond, too focused on trying to defend himself from the group swarming him. But his efforts were futile and he soon found himself struggling to stay on his feet. 

     “What the f*ck?!” one of the goons yelled, dropping his baton as he stared at the sky in shock. The others turned to follow his gaze and panicked when they saw a strange creature swooping through the sky towards them. It blocked out the night sky with its large, bat-like wings and flicked goons away from them with its long, agile tail. 

     “What the hell is that?!” Tim screeched, trying to come up with a plan to deal with the terrifyingly powerful creature after they’d managed to overpower the army of thugs. It was official: Hell was empty and all the demons were in Gotham. 

     “That’s my friend!” Jason yelled back quickly, fighting to get to X’s side before either of his brothers could even think about hurting her. Dick nodded in understanding, convinced by the relief evident in Jason’s voice, and finally allowed himself to turn his back to X. Jason brought the handle of his gun down on the last goon standing between him and his friend, then he rushed forward to help her. “Took you long enough, princess. I was worried you weren’t going to show up this time.” 

     X felt her cheeks heat up at his mischievous tone as she swiped her tail at the last few stragglers of the pack, easily knocking them off their feet, and her eyes widened with horror when she heard a giggle escape her own mouth - a giggle! What was the world coming to?! She cleared her throat quickly, hoping Jason hadn’t heard it, and smoothed her expression before turning around to face him. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted down to her slightly, and she just knew that he was wearing one of those smug grins he’d flash her every time he managed to provoke such unseemly reactions out of her. She rolled her eyes and cast her gaze to the ground as she waited for the flush to dissipate from her cheeks … but now she’d gotten the image of his smile stuck in her head! And Gods, he always looked so handsome when he smiled. 

     Jason’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he watched her try to hide her adorable reaction to him. She’d started joining him on his missions a few weeks ago, swooping out of nowhere just when he thought he was going to be overpowered by whichever lowlives he was fighting that night, and he couldn’t not look into it, right? Look into what it meant that she’d fly around the city, keeping an eye on him even when he’d told her they wouldn’t be able to hang out that night because he’d gotten stuck on another mission? Always saving his skin exactly when he needed her? 

     “Hey,” Dick greeted X cheerfully, holding a hand out to her in greeting. “Nice to meet you, friend of Jason! I’m Dick - his insufferably-better-than-him-in-every-way older brother.” 

     X studied his hand carefully as Jason punched his brother in the arm, still cautious about interacting so closely with anyone. But Jason seemed to trust him, so she was sure that she could too. She reached out and hesitantly took hold of his hand, shaking it gently before releasing it and burying herself into Jason’s side. 

     Jason grinned happily beneath his mask as he reached an arm around her waist and ran his fingers along her reassuringly. She’d been so averse to human touch when they’d first started hanging out, always so careful to keep at least an inch of space between them. He’d respected her boundaries though, silently reassuring her that she could trust him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable with him, and soon, she’d be seeking him out, quietly sauntering over to him and curling up against his side no matter what he might have been doing right then. He’d jumped at the opportunity at first, eagerly wrapping his arm around her and running his fingers along her surprisingly soft body, but she’d practically hissed at him the first time it had happened and he’d quickly learned that she had to be the one to ask for it first. Honestly, she was more like a cat than a dragon, sometimes. 

     “I’m Tim!” Tim introduced himself, coming up beside Dick. “The objectively best brother out of us all.” X let out a little snort at his declaration and Jason narrowed his eyes at his brother beneath his helmet, suddenly overcome with a wave of jealousy. But then X pressed herself deeper into his side and that victorious smirk returned to his lips. 

     “So, we done for the night? Great. See you tomorrow.” Jason waved them off as he spun X around to where he’d parked his bike and X snickered softly when she heard Tim and Dick’s exclamations of confused outrage behind them. 

     “So,” Jason began, getting onto his motorcycle, “you wanna get some ice cream, princess? As a thank you for saving my life? Again?” 

     X fiddled with the helmet he’d handed her, taking a moment to examine the rush of delight that swept through her at the thought of laughing over ice cream with him. She liked spending time with him - loved it, in fact - but she still couldn’t figure out why he seemed to enjoy it so much too. She didn’t have much to offer him, after all, with her strange build and her serious demeanour and her quiet nature. But he always seemed so happy when he was with her; so relaxed, like there was something about her that made him feel comfortable enough to just be himself. “Is there anywhere that sells ice cream this late?” 

     Jason sucked in a breath as her hands travelled up his body, running along his chest before landing on his shoulders and gripping onto them. Then he shook his head and forced himself back down to reality. “Uh, yeah! McDonald’s is open twenty four hours, right?” 

     X squeezed his shoulders gently in agreement and the two of them sped off into the night.

     X tucked her wings tightly against her back as she took a careful step into the darkened warehouse. Jason had sent her a text earlier cancelling their usual movie date and asking her to meet him at one of his secret warehouses by the docks instead. His message had been vague, so she didn’t know what to expect once she’d arrived, but … she trusted him. X stopped just inside the entrance and was about to shift her eyes so she could look into the darkness, but then a light ‘click’ sounded and suddenly, the room was illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped elegantly from the rafters and around the beams. X smiled as she surveyed the wide, open space, and her delight only grew when she saw a cosy little nook in the corner decorated with piles of pillows and blankets and a projector set up to display movies on a blank wall. 

     “So, what do you think?” Jason asked from behind her. X turned around to face him and found him rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for her reaction.

     “What is this, Jay?” she breathed, that adorable little smile still stretched across her normally stoic features. Shit, he loved her smile. 

     “I-” he paused to clear his throat, trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy running through his veins: he’d never done such a big gesture for anyone before. But he’d never liked anyone as much as he liked her! Ugh! “I made it. For you. So you wouldn’t need to worry about people spotting you anymore anytime you wanted a flight.” 

     Oh Gods. She wasn’t completely certain, having never experienced such an emotion before, but she was quite sure that she was in love with him. He was just so sweet and so thoughtful, always so patient and gentle with her. X reached up to wipe away a stray tear before it could fall down her cheek, then she clutched her hands close to her chest and took a step towards him. 

     Jason rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly, unused to the adoring look on her face. It wasn’t that she’d never hinted to him how she might have felt about him, it was just that she always kept such a tight hold on her emotions, never letting anything she felt show on her face. He waited patiently as she continued to walk slowly to him, until finally, she’d buried herself in his chest, snuggling up against him and waiting expectantly for him to slide his arms around her. Jason chuckled softly and did as she wanted, wrapping her up comfortably against him. 

     “Why …” X pulled back from him slightly, a little confused, but still with that smile lighting up her face. “Why would you do all this for me, Jason?” 

     “Because I like seeing you happy,” he replied easily, as if the answer was as simple as that. “It makes me happy.” 

     “But …” X paused to giggle softly and Jason’s heart swelled at the way she let it linger instead of quickly swallowing it down like she usually did. “But that’s so silly!” 

     “Why is it silly?” Jason asked, bending over to brush his nose lightly against hers. X laughed again and slid her arms around his neck, letting the front of her body brush up against his. 

     “Because … Because it’s not fair,” she pointed out, stretching onto her toes to rest her head on his shoulder. “How can I make you so happy when I don’t even do anything?! I’m just … I’m so boring!” 

     She pulled back to look at him, her lips pushed out into a cute little pout, and Jason let out another soft chuckle. “You are not boring, X. You like the same music as me, the same movies as me, you’re killer at bowling and you fight even better than Dick!” 

     Her chest warmed at the face that he hadn’t mentioned her dragon abilities at all: he liked her. Half-dragon or not, he would have liked her anyway, it seemed. X lowered her head as her cheeks flushed with happiness then, before she could second guess herself, she bounced up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. 

     Jason let out a muffled exclamation of surprise, caught off guard by the sudden action. Then he bent over to make it easier for her to reach his mouth. X giggled softly as she kissed him and he didn’t know how much time had passed when they finally pulled away from one another. 

     “So … you wanna watch a movie?” Jason suggested, gesturing to the cosy corner he’d set up for them. X nodded eagerly and pulled him over to the pile of pillows before pushing him down and settling herself in his arms. 

     “Should we watch a romcom tonight?” she asked, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. Jason grinned and leaned forward to give her a few quick pecks on the lips. 

     “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

[fantasymusicwarrior]

“I see your wife with a man that is haunting

A man with a trail of bodies”

WHOO?!?!?

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.”

Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.”

He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

“Not gonna tell me it gets easier?”

He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know.

“I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs.

She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.”

He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back.

“You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.

“Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go.

She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.”

He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.”

He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly.

“You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.”

He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.”

“Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.”

Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.”

He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock.

“He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.”

“Madelyn and Daniel?”

She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.”

One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.”

Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.”

“Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.”

“Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table.

“Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.”

She makes a humming noise.

“C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.”

Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle.

He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.”

“Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.”

He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?”

Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.”

Logan both blushes and preens at the same time.

Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?”

She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.”

He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.”

She laughs, “good gin and tonic?”

He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.”

She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,”

“Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.”

Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.”

“We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts.

“Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused.

“Ah.”

“Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.”

She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases.

The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?”

She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.”

Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.”

“Your work allows you to do that?”

Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.”

“You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.”

“I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious.

“No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.”

“Manager?”

“God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.”

“Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.”

“Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?”

“Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him.

He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice.” She smiles.

Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.”

Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him.

“You seemed a bit more relaxed.”

“No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.”

Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.”

Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?”

He shrugs as best as he can.

“I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.”

“You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs.

Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.”

“What happened?”

“She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.”

Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.”

The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies.

“What?”

“I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.”

“Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar.

“I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.”

Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?”

Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?”

“The one that gave Fred shit.”

“I thought she died?”

The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?”

“Mate, you didn’t hear about that?”

“No!”

“She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.”

“How do I not remember this?”

Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,”

“No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.”

“Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.”

Logan groans, “Os, no.”

“Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.”

“Oscar, please, it’s my mom.”

“She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush.

He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.”

“Lando was looking.”

Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.”

He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.”

“He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns.

“I saw that too.”

“But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?”

Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.”

“Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?”

“I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.”

Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.”

“We all want to age like her.” George agrees.

“What are you saying?” Fernando frowns.

A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.”

Fernando frowns, “Lines?”

Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank.

Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.”

The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.”

“Fuck.”

“Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,”

“He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her.

“He did it! He did it!” She cheers.

The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.”

“Got it. Where’s Alex?”

She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.”

Both of her hands fly up to her mouth.

“Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.”

She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control.

“What? What do you mean?”

“You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.”

“Holy fuck.”

The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes.

“You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.”

She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.”

“Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.”

“I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried.

“You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.”

She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?”

He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.”

“He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her.

His smile widens as he takes the seat.

“I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear.

“I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?”

She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.”

“Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.”

She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?”

“You did.”

“Sweet.”

“Very. How’s the head?”

Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.”

She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.”

“Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it.

She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.”

“True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.”

“I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.”

“Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.”

“I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.”

“Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?”

“It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.”

His brows press together. “Max?”

“Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?”

Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.”

“You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.”

“I go on dates.”

“Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.”

She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists.

“Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?”

“Yes.”

“Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?”

Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,”

Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?”

“Oh.”

Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.”

“I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!”

He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces.

“Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?”

He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press.

“But how are you feeling about it?”

Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.”

He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.”

Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.”

“P10 and P9.”

He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.”

Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.”

“Not yours?”

He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.”

Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?”

Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.”

“Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.”

“And if I go into the wall?”

Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?”

Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.”

“Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.”

Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.”

He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him.

“And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his.

“So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say.

“I’m a mom.”

He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.”

“Logan is important to me.”

Oh, god, did Logan not like him?

“The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.”

“Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?”

She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.”

“I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?”

Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.”

He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.”

“His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right.

“His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?”

“No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.”

She stares at him, lips pressed together.

He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.”

She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?”

“The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears.

“I am his mother, just adopted.”

“Not that either of you see it that way.”

“No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.”

“Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?”

She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-nine.”

He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.”

“Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.”

“How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch.

“Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun.

Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach.

“What?”

“How was your date last night?”

Her smile widens. “It was good.”

“Yeah?”

She nods.

“Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?”

“No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.”

“About what?”

“Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well.

She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.”

“What about Max?”

She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.”

“You know, I’m okay with it.”

“I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.”

Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.”

Logan flushes at the words.

“He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age.

He flushes even more. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.”

“I am an adult.”

“You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.”

He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?”

She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?”

“Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?”

“First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder.

“Am I late?”

“Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen.

“Can I,”

She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.”

“Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.”

“Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her.

“Logan and you are both going to get on too well.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye.

“You both don’t like when I lift anything.”

“What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back.

Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.”

“One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.”

“See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head.

“I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.”

Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.”

He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.”

“Are you sure?”

Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage.

The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at.

“Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.”

“Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely.

“Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?”

The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member.

“Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?”

He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.”

“And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases.

“No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.”

“I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.”

“Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.”

“Oh?”

Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.”

Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room.

“Hi, schat.”

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats.

His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.”

“Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask.

“He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.”

Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?”

She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.”

“Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.”

“Anything I can help with?”

She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops.

“Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.”

“Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?”

His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.”

“The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.”

“They have to be not performing well.”

“They’re a rookie in a back marker team.”

“They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about.

“They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.”

His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?”

“Nine.”

“I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.”

She shakes her head.

“Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?”

She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.”

“I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his.

“The driver’s Logan.”

“What?”

“Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.”

Max stares at her. “How?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.”

“He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.”

“I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.”

“It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it.

“Why’s that, honey?”

He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team.

“I guess you are a bit spoiled.”

He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle.

“That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.”

He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more.

“I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.”

She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.”

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends.

“Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder.

“How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner.

She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.”

He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?”

“I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.”

“I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside.

“I know.”

“Logan still wanting to do his new routine.”

She nods, lips pursed.

He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?”

She throws him a look. “Us?”

“You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that.

“Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.”

“Will Logan be joining us for Florida?”

“Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.”

Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,”

“You go to Milton for a day after.”

He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.”

“Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.”

“Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.”

“Yes?”

“Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend.

He freezes.

“Max.”

“I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport. 

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made. 

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really. 

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next. 

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together. 

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling. 

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it. 

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you. 

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t. 

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow. 

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.” 

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later. 

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations. 

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake. 

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too. 

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end. 

But it does. 

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you. 

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom. 

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed. 

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes. 

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream. 

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation. 

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed. 

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.” 

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her. 

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it. 

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now. 

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her. 

You love her for it. For this. 

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes. 

You’re staring at him. 

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him. 

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework. 

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him. 

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left. 

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you. 

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is. 

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences. 

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted. 

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know. 

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this. 

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive. 

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit. 

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it. 

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box. 

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser  - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag.  - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels? 

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways. 

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework. 

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat. 

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force. 

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him. 

��Me?” you look dumbfounded. 

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater? 

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline. 

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best. 

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too. 

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better. 

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model. 

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her. 

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe. 

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that. 

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower. 

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back. 

And the fact that you didn’t answer him. 

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch. 

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study. 

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim. 

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image. 

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark. 

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line. 

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you. 

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?” 

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker. 

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply. 

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window. 

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to. 

He can’t help it. 

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious. 

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak. 

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching. 

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some. 

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies. 

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice. 

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains. 

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses. 

You give him an unimpressed stare. 

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?” 

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one. 

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline. 

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.”

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly. 

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always. 

Never your name. 

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[sooniebby]

Bae I’m back! This time with a Drabble request because asking for full length fics makes me feel guilty. Anywayssssss

Iida…. Hear me out. I’m a SIMP for nerds who are secretly freaks and I feel after the stain incident it’s clear this man is one of those. He def has a size kink I mean he’s built like a god but he also has a brat taming kink. Just imagine him with a lil delinquent reader who simply doesn’t respect his “authority” and he finally gets fed up and puts him in his place. Idk this man just does things for me

Consensually ofc

xx

ఌ 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀

꧁ 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙮𝙖 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Smut 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You didn’t exactly know how you got yourself into this situation. Face pushed down onto the bed with your ass up in the air. A slap jolted you forward as you cried out in pain. Your ass was aching from the continuous spanking.

Iida was someone you liked pissing off. It was funny to see him yell at you about the rules or what not but you never really imagined he’d do this to you. You and Iida were studying together, not sure how that happened, and you mentioned something to piss him off.

You didn’t even remember what you said. What you really remembered was how easily Iida picked you up and put you in this position. The sound of the harsh slaps against your skin was the only noise in the room, with your muffled whimpers to accompany it.

Iida wasn’t saying anything and somehow that made it hotter in way. As if he was so angry that the only way he thought you could learn was if he discipline you like the brat you wanted to act like.

“Iida…” you whined. “I’ll be good, promise…”

He stopped for a moment, as if he was thinking before you felt him slip in a finger inside of you. It went in easily, due to your previous masturbation before you went to see him.

A chuckle was heard as you bit down on the sheets to muffle your gasps. “Did you want this to happen? That’ll explain why I don’t need lube.”

You didn’t answer, twitching at the way Iida had easily found your prostate. He grazed it each time, making you whine at the teasing. Your cock twitched from beneath you—precum leaking onto the bedsheets.

A sudden pull at your shirt’s collar forced you to lean back against Iida’s chest. You couldn’t really see him but it was scarily horny at how easily he could move you around with no extra strength.

“Answer me. I asked a question.”

“No…”

Iida hummed as he slipped in another finger, pumping them in and out. He didn’t even try to touch your prostate, leaving you to whine at the lost.

“I know you don’t really have manners for others but with me, I thought you would’ve known I don’t tolerate disrespect,” he whispered into your ear. It felt like Iida was a whole different person.

But you certainly liked that.

Iida pushed you down into the bed and pulled out his fingers from your ass. You could hear the faint noise of his zippers being unbuttoned. A small feeling of glee was felt as you wiggled your hips.

“Huh, you think this is for you?” Iida moved his hand to grip at the back of your neck. His hand almost covered the entirety of it. Even with just one hand, he effectively had you pinned down.

“This is for me and only me, (Name).” It was the first time he had ever said your first name. Iida’s cock, that you wished you could’ve seen, was harshly shoved inside.

He was true to his words. His thrusting was mainly focused on chasing his own release. But you didn’t care. If he was using you, you’d gratefully allow it.

You moaned pitifully, hoping he’d at least try to touch your prostate but it seemed he was purposefully missing it. His hand around your throat moved up to your hair and pulled it, gaining a cry from you.

He held onto your hair tightly as he used you like a fleshlight. The sound of skin slapping together paired with your moans and bed creeks filled the room. Whoever this new Iida was, you wanted him to last.

“Iida… I wanna cum!” You whined.

“No.”

A pathetic whimper left your throat. It was hot to see him not care for you and be so set on teaching you a lesson but you at least hoped he would try later. Your cock was just leaking for its’ release.

Suddenly, Iida turned you around to lay on your back, giving you a full view of him. His glasses were off and his hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. He didn’t look particularly happy or horny, more calculating.

As if he was thinking about what particular moves to do. And you soon learned why when he moved your legs up to your ears, something you didn’t know you could do, and began to thrust downwards inside of you.

This angle was hitting your prostate constantly. A scream left your lips as you tried to get used to the sensation. You arched your back as you reached over to grip at his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. But he didn’t kiss you—he pressed a finger against your lips instead.

“Only good boys get kisses.”

You whined in embarrassment. Iida really had you now didn’t he. You came right after that. Iida was someone you dreamed of having sex with—but this right now was hotter than any dream.

Much to your surprise, Iida pulled out before his orgasm and pushed you down on the bed. He moved to aim his cock at your stomach and rubbed himself until he came, coating his cum all over your stomach.

“And only good boys get to be rewarded with cum inside.” He said, patting your sore butt as he got up to get some wet wipes.

You frowned at the cum on your stomach. Maybe you should rethink your little delinquent attitude.

But maybe a balance. Where’s the fun in being entirely good?

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You said brat taming and I ran with it… trying some new kinks, whatcha think?

Also don’t feel guilty about requesting! It’s what my blog is for

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo

(Ask to be added to the tag list/you’ll be tagged in every fic I post)

[ghostgirl-22]

OBSESSED with your stupid cockslut art!! Needy little baby too stupid to think about anything other than getting wrecked by his teammates…. The first time it happens…. They’re changing after training and the new kid - some handsome clearly gay guy - is flirting with art, leaning over him, putting his hands on arts chest, on his waist and Patrick’s being his typical jealous about it until he realises arts brain has completely turned off and he’s spacey and giggly and blushing and Patrick is immediately hard and like. Needs to explore this immediately actually. Drags art away and back to their room and arts so different to normal and Patrick just can’t help himself he has to fuck art immediately because as if he’d miss out on the chance to have him like this????

Ah yes…yes… I hear you anon…<3

So like Im taking it as the first time Patrick realizes that Art goes brainless or something like that (idk enjoy lol)

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It takes a little while for him to notice, if Patrick’s being honest. He’s not really paying attention at first. He’s joking with a couple of his teammates about how predictable one of their regular opponents serve is. They’re all laughing and out of the corner of his eye is when he sees it.

The new kid, Craig Reynolds, is also the only openly gay kid on the team. He’s this tall, handsome, conventionally attractive athlete from a rich family. That’s pretty much why he gets away with it, integrating seamlessly while taking little if any flack from his teammates.

He’s talking to Art, talking up close, the way Patrick might. Barely giving him any personal space. Art’s leaning with his back up against the lockers, half dressed, smiling at him. Letting him touch, letting him grip at his arm, at his waist.

“God, Craig wants to fuck him so bad,” One of Patrick’s buddies mutters when he notices Patrick staring.

“Put him in make up and a dress and I’d wanna fuck him too,” another teammate snorts and they both laugh.

Patrick feels his stomach do a somersault and he’s suddenly burning up with irritation. Of course Craig is into Art, it makes perfect sense. Art is the pretty boy blonde on the team with the perfect ass. What’s bothering him is the way Art is mirroring his attraction.

It’s the way Art’s leaning back, letting himself be played with. Eyes wide, posture submissive. Smiling the way girls do when someone really attractive is giving them attention. When Craig leans in to play with his hair and Art starts wetting his lips is when Patrick decides to interrupt.

He gets first dibs. He gets last dibs. He gets everything in between. “Hey so you wanna go?” He asks Art.

“Patrick, Craig said he can help me with my backhand,” Art says, he’s chewing bubble gum, always has something in his mouth. And Jesus Christ up close it’s even worse. Patrick can see his eyes are dilated and his cheeks are pinkening. If he had longer hair he’d be twirling it for him.

“Oh yeah?” Patrick glares at Craig.

Craig glances at Patrick, eyes filled with amusement before his gaze returns to Art. “I mean, whenever. If you want to come play with me Donaldson, you know where I live.” His eyes fall over Art’s body, his desire so fucking obvious.

“Okay but promise you won’t go easy on me?” Art says, softly. Flirting. It’s so silly and irritating. Patrick’s one step from grabbing him and dragging him away.

“Don’t worry, you’re strong,” Craig rubs Art’s bare chest, “I know you can take it.”

Art’s grinning now, like it’s funny. It’s so not funny.

“Can you go get dressed?” Patrick demands. “I want to get food before the cafeteria closes.”

Art blinks, “Oh yeah… um…” he stumbles forwards running into the bench and he bends over to rub his shin as Craig laughs.

“Careful pretty boy.”

“Shuddup,” Art says, playful. “Um… wait… where’s my bag?”

Patrick narrows his eyes, “where it always is?” He says, incredulous when Art looks around helpless. “Other side of the room. Under the bench,” He points. “Near your locker.”

“Oh yeah,” Art grins.

“I think your roommate likes boys,” Craig’s sing song voice sounds teasingly in Patrick’s ear as they watch Art make his way over to his bag. “But of course you already know that… you’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows, turning around to face him. “Did he—”

”He didn’t say anything but it takes one to know one. Everyone talks about you guys like you’re one entity and then of course you show up all jealous,” Craig smirks, bending over his bag on the bench. Patrick rolls his eyes.

Impressively, Art hasn’t even made it five feet without being distracted by another boy.

“This is his right?” Craig hands Patrick a razor phone that definitely belongs to Art.

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Fuck.”

“Be careful with that, someone might steal it away from you.” Craig pats his arm. Patrick shrugs him off and follows Art to the other side of the locker room.

He’s no more dressed than he was a minute ago. Instead he’s like a little space cadet, straddling the bench and bouncing his thigh while the guys Patrick was chatting with earlier are teasing him about Craig.

“Do you have any more gum, Donaldson?” One of them asks, sitting across from him while idly rubbing Art’s thigh. It’s their teammate Tyler Fitzgerald, who everyone just calls Fitz. Art smirks and blows a bubble which Fitz pops with his finger.

“Someone gave it to me.” Art says, soft. Pretty little grin on his face as he licks all the gum back into his mouth. Someone’s always giving him something.

“I like how you blow bubbles. You wanna blow something else?” Fitz smirks, still rubbing Art’s thigh. “I don’t think Craigs is bigger than mine.”

Art leans back on his hands, still chewing, skin flushed. “You’re so gross,” he says, but he scoots his body closer and sticks his gum coated tongue out.

“Art,” Patrick sighs. Fitz glances up at him at the same time Art does, pulling his hands away from Art’s thighs and getting to his feet with a not so subtle wink in Art’s direction.

“Patrick I’m— I’m coming,” Art says. He reaches for his bag and then sits up straight patting his pockets. “Wait I can’t find my—my—”

Patrick pulls the silver razor phone out of his own pocket and hands it to Art. ”Oh wow. I- where did you—?”

”Don’t worry about it, come on,” Patrick interrupts. He’s anxious and not for food. He thinks he’s starting to understand what’s happening.

Art is so shy when girls flirt with him, but he’s absolutely ditzy when he’s taking Patrick’s cock. Maybe with Craig flirting and Fitz flirting, maybe just the thought of getting fucked has him in that same drunken silly state. Unable to focus on anything but the idea of getting filled. And suddenly Patrick’s jeans feel so much tighter.

“Come on,” Patrick holds out his hand and Art chews a little longer before he spits the gum out, gazing up at Patrick, lips parted, eyes dilated, pink tongue tracing the surface of his white teeth. Patrick thinks about fucking him right here… taking him in the bathroom stall just to get it out of his system. Everyone probably already fucking knows by now. Art reaches for Patrick’s zipper and Patrick barely stops him, stepping back to go throw the gum away. “Get dressed,” he says.

Craig smirks at him from across the locker room.

Art just barely manages to get his clothes on. Patrick has to help him collect his gear. He’s all over the place. A little bit of boy flirting and he’s a fucking mess. Teasing the whole time, desperate for Patrick’s attention… for his…

He barely gets Art home. They’re kissing in the elevator. Art is dizzy, grabbing at him. Climbing all over Patrick as soon as they get onto the bed. Hes such a fucking cock slut he’s moaning before Patrick even gets inside, he’s moaning just for the promise of it. Falls apart all over it. Doesn’t recover till they’re sweaty and breathless, covered in lube, spit and semen.

And then Art’s back to normal. It’s fascinating. The way he comes back down to earth with little or no recollection of the way he was acting in the locker room. They clean up and go to dinner and it’s Patrick’s turn to fall apart. Tripping over himself to open doors for him, pulling him closer where they sit in the cafeteria. Patrick’s practically on top of him, consuming all his time, his attention, all the food he wants but can’t finish. Art’s not even eating his dessert, just licking the icing off. Patrick’s asking him what he remembers still trying to understand this particular tick.

Art denies flirting, says he was just talking to Craig, says he would never cheat and or let another boy fuck him. “I mean, unless…” he shrugs licking the frosting off his spoon. “Unless you wanted me too.” He bites down on the spoon and gazes at Patrick.

Patrick stares back at him, he can’t help but to smirk. “Yeah, okay.” He says but his mind is screaming because whatever the fuck this is… he knows he wants it. It’s only a matter of time before Art gets hit on by another boy and Patrick decides he’ll just have to be there so he can do more research.

[obsidianluxury]

Yandare Sub Todoroki Shoto x slightly Yandare Dom (fem?) Reader

Hello everyone, i’m a new nsfw writer (idrk what to say) but like yeahhh this is my little story yknow and likeee yeah enjoy??. (Also im deff gonna be editing my profile and things like that ik it looks so bland and boring right now but not for long)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Todoroki Shoto is an interesting person, to say the least. He’s the type of person you’d expect to always be calm and collected, but the Shoto Todoroki that’s standing in front of you is far from it.

“Who’s blood is that?” You ask, not knowing if you should be scared or disgusted. “Kaminari”, he answers immediately; he knows better than to make you wait for his replies. “You laughed at his jokes." "Am i not funny enough? I can be funny too,” he says, lightly raising the pitch of his voice. “please?” He raises his eyes to meet yours but brings them back down, seeing your disgusted look.

Todoroki sits on his knees, you can see the protruding indent of his cock twitching being suffocated by the tightness of his pants.

You walk around Todoroki, examining his body and the blood that has lightly decorated his clothing. “Did you get caught?” you say, caressing his hair. "No, I was careful." I grab a fist full of his hair and tighten my grip. "Of course you were." "You hurt my friend and you want me to give you a reward?” You tauntingly speak in a sweet voice. “Bad dogs don’t get treats; maybe I should get a new dog." You yank at his hair. "fu-h, mng-h, no, only me; you only need me." He cries out,dizziness spreads in his head, his lightheadedness making him unbearably hard

You grab his cock, massaging it at first, then grabbing it harshly. While still holding his hair, you force his head closer to yours. You whisper into his neck, “Now that I remember, i saw you talking to a girl.” You continue strengthening your hold on his cock as time passes. “She was very pretty—a friend of yours?” He opens his mouth but moans leave his throat instead. "Ah, I don’t know, mnnngg fuck." You bite into his neck. “As pretty as she was, cleaning her up was really annoying.”

As fucked up as it was he loved knowing you were as equally as obsessed with him as he was with you. Almost immediately a wet warmth fills the palm of your hand. “did you just cum? you’re seriously disgusting you know that.” you look at his dumbed out face and he’s smiling like an idiot. “i’m your disgusting boy.”

idkkk i felt like this little draft was cute guys!!

[tinkerbelle05]

We are Done

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x black!fem!reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: Miles being a shitty bf & lying

Summary: Miles has been hiding things from you and after he leaves during your date, you have had enough.

Notes: first time writing Miles, might be a bit occ. Some cussing too.

You were sitting in your and Miles' favorite diner for over 20 minutes on a sunny Saturday afternoon. It was somewhat filled, mostly with teens on dates, like you are supposed to be. You try to drink some water and play a mindless game on your phone to distract yourself from the irritation you are feeling. But those do not help.

You had a whole date planned for you and Miles to catch up. Lunch at the diner, next catch a movie, and then go to an arcade. And Miles promised he would be here and instead, you were staring at an empty booth across from you.

When things were, it was so good. Miles is kind, funny, and he's everything to you. You two have been through a lot together in the last year and came out stronger. But when things were bad, they were downright terrible. He is constantly late to most of the dates you planned and you are trying to be understanding. School is hard and he is under pressure but you don't know how long you can keep giving your hopes up like this. You are reaching a breaking point.

You hear his voice before you see him. You hear him apologize for bumping into someone and watch as he hastily sits down. He looks frazzled; curls sticking out a bit, eyes darting around, and heavy breathing.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you say in a collected voice but your face says what you are feeling from his pained expression. He knows he's in deep shit. Good.

You have many, many things to say to this boy right now. Most are cussing him out and yelling at him, all is deeply inappropriate to say in a public space. So you leave. You exit the store without saying a word to him because it will get ugly if you do. You just need a cool down and things will hopefully be fine.

But of course, he follows after you with yellings of “Wait” and “Slow down a bit", and all they do is make you walk faster.

Maybe in the past, you would've stopped walking and waited for him. Listen to the pre-planned excuses he would have for why he’s so late and listen to his lies of doing better. Of being better. You don’t want to hear it, you won’t listen to it. Not this time.

Somehow Miles catches up to you and holds you to stop. He pulls you into an alleyway away from the public.

“Hey, hey, I’m so-“, he starts off.

“Don’t, Miles. Just stop talking.” You scowl up at him.

And he does. You look at him to see him looking at you with those brown eyes you love. They're deep and rich, you feel like you can fall in them forever. It looks like he’d gotten a fresh new haircut too.

“Why were you late, Miles?” You asked, calmly.

“Uh, well you see the train wasn’t working, you know how they are on the weekend,” he tells you and avoids looking at you. You couldn’t help the scoff you give him and breaks loose of his grip.

“You're lying,” you tell him and your voice becomes louder with every word. “You’re always late and you just keep lying to me, Miles! Is there someone else?” But at this question, your voice is quiet and on the cusp of breaking.

“What!” He asks, eyes wide and taking some steps back. “There is no-. Why would you even ask that?!”

“Because you keep lying, Miles. Lie, lie that’s all you seem to be doing these days. And you have the nerve to ask me that?” You rant at him and walk away.

“Woah, woah.” He grabs you by the arm again and turns you around. “I know I’ve been…distant lately and I’m sorry. But there is no one, I swear. I will-”

“Do better. I will be better.” you finished for him. “That's what you always say and you never deliver. So, not only are you lying about where you are, but you're also lying about doing and being better. I can't do this right now, Miles, I can't.” When you move to go home you notice that his hand's grip on your arm isn't as tight anymore, and when you look up to see his face, his eyes are distracted and he looks spaced out.

Tears are starting to swell up in your eyes, “Are you even listening to me, Miles?!”

"Yes, of course, I am," he answers but his eyes aren't even on you.

He looks at you and at the street, obviously torn between something. But he so clearly wants to leave. You ripped your arm from his loose grip and glared up at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you Miles, but if you leave me right now, we are done. I’m done, do you understand?”

He starts to walk closer to you, and for a moment your heart feels a bit light but the moment is gone as quickly as it came. He was hesitating, stuck in between movements.

You give a teary laugh and start to walk away. Feeling like a fool, “Goodbye, Miles. Don’t come looking for me after this and lose my number. You clearly have made your choice.”

See ya in the next one guys 👋🏿

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

Taglist: @justbeethings, @butterfi

My Reqs are open!!

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest - Day 7

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader Kink: Aphrodisiacs/Overstim WC: 3.6k Summary: Thick as thieves you’ve seen Wooyoung on good days and bad days. Both of you have done some admittedly dumb things but you’re young and hot and a little reckless. So why is Wooyoung sitting on the sofa pouring sweat in the middle of February when you come home? TW/CW: Bratty!wooyoung, sub!wooyoung, dom!reader, undernegotiated kink, painslut!wooyoung, aphrodisiacs, dubcon, lots of humping (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), degradation (m receiving), inhuman amounts of climaxes, coercion (heavy amounts underline bold), no pronouns used for reader but fem presenting body parts (vagina, breasts), Wooyoung is called names (toy, slut, dumb, bastard), unprotected penetration, multiple creampies

Additional discussion below the cut of TW/CW

Wooyoung is VERY much under the influence but also pressures the reader past their set boundaries. The reader does “consent” after a bit and has wanted to in the past but neither thing should truly count as consent. Neither party should be doing this and for that I’m labeling as dubcon. Do with that what you will. I wanted to stress again, this is fiction and you should talk to your partner outside of the bedroom before doing ANYTHING like this in the bedroom.

Wooyoung is sweating which is weird because every window in the small apartment you share is wide open with the fan on high. And it’s the middle of February. “Dude, you good?” Your smile is disconcerting despite your best efforts to look casual. Wooyoungs head snaps to look at you, eyes fluttering as he presses a pillow against his crotch. “It was a joke, a funny haha joke.” His eyes well with tears. “You know those miracle fruit tablets? You know when we all took them for fun and then did a blindfolded taste test and Hongjoong ate a radish but he liked it so he asked for more and we all made fun of him and called him radish boy for a week even though we all ate weird things that day and really it was good that he ate a vegetable for once in his life without making a face so I joked I was going to force feed him miracle berries every day?” Your eyes glaze as he rattles on, noting his uncomfortable wiggling and pressing of the pillow, mouth dropping open into a pained whine as he performs his one man show. “Yeah Wooyoung I remember, the tablets.” “Well I got more but I also got these sex gummies.” “Viagra.” “No. Maybe? I don’t know they just said ‘aphrodisiac’ and i thought ‘oh cool like oysters and chocolate covered strawberries I fucking doubt they’ll do anything’ but…” he trails off, eyelids fluttering. “God damn you look so fucking good today.” “Wooyoung is that my pillow?” You cautiously inch towards him. His knuckles are white gripping the blue cotton of your pillowcover. As you get closer you realize he smells like sweat and cum, the room being spared by the copious amount of ventilation. “No but really you look…” his speech is slow and dumb. A hand releases the pillow and grabs the zipper of your jacket fumbling with your outerwear. You swat at his hand, “it’s fucking freezing Wooyoung.” He whimpers like a hit puppy. “If I can close the windows you can take this off of me.” With a snap the living room is sealed shut again, Wooyoungs hands yanking your winter weather gear from you all the way down to your tshirt and jeans. “Do you always smell this good? You smell so fucking good.” Hands wandering everywhere his nose pressed to your chest rubbing his face into you. Wooyoung feels the room spinning, the closed windows allowing your scent to flood the space. He can barely hold onto a sliver of himself that isn’t a hormone filled sex crazed psycho. You stumble as his fingers grab and dig into the flesh of your ass. There's an obvious tent and a damp spot on the front of his sweats, no doubt soaked through by his predicament. “I think I’m going to die. I think my dick is gonna just pop. I don’t want a neo penis I like the one I have! Would you love me if I had a neo cock? People are into those these days, right?” Wooyoung sniffles and burbles frantically. There’s no way to escape his needy grasp so you opt to stroke his back. Endorphins flood his system, knuckles whitening. He shudders and moans, squeezing his eyes tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants, guilt settling heavy in his stomach. “It felt so good I’m sorry.” “Woo-” your voice low and soft and soothing, “did you just cum?” He nods, eyes cast down in shame. “I’m so sorry I can’t-I can’t-” his chest feels tight, eyes brimming with tears. “No Woo, it’s okay,” you continue to pet his back and speak softly. “Hey we can get through this together okay? Okay. How long has this all been happening?” He tries to think, nose wrinkling cutely in concentration. How long has it been? Honestly it felt like forever but in the scheme of things probably had only been an hour. Available snacks in the apartment had dwindled towards the end of the week and the bag of funny little penis shaped gummies were supposed to be his mid afternoon sugar hit to jolt him into productivity. It wasn’t until an hour or so after that he started to feel…strange. Antsy almost like a pot of coffee had been injected into his veins. “Maybe an hour? I think I ate it two hours ago so…an hour? I don’t know, I've cum three times already and I can't stop. It feels so good like you wouldn’t believe how good. Each time I feel like I’m going to die and piss and shit myself and you’d come home and see me dead covered in cum and piss and shit with my cock in my hand-” “WOOYOUNG,” you grab his face. “I don’t need to hear it, okay?” He mumbles an apology. As he’d warned he was already hard again, hips moving of their own accord rutting against your thigh again. “Let’s get you out of those pants okay?” You help him gingerly remove the pants, soaked with sweat and cum. The sight below makes you regret removing them, his boxers are far worse, the raw stench of sex filling the air. Wooyoung is already grappling back to you, almost physically unable to bear being apart. “JUNG WOOYOUNG,” you snap, “change your FUCKING boxers right now.” You wrench your arm from his grasp, summoning all the sternness in your soul to send him to his room. He scuttles sheepishly away, slamming drawers dramatically. In the meantime you go to investigate the kitchen, looking for the bag. Luckily you don’t have to look hard, the crumpled plastic conveniently placed just beside the trash can, as was his habit. Willy World’s Addictive Aphrodisiacs, emblazoned on the bag in pink bubble letters. A bearded lanky cartoon cowboy riding an erect penis sits in the lower left hand corner. No wonder he didn’t think these were serious. In bold subtitled below the heading “eat no more than four or you might need to get yourself a whore.” You grimace. Wooyoung’s slight but muscular body presses you into the counter, arms snaking up your front, cradling you close to him. “Couldn’t find you, thought you’d run,” he sniffs. “Don’t run okay? Please, I’m scared. You can’t leave me.” “Woo- how many were in the bag?” You try your best to hide the streak of panic in your voice. “I don’t know, many. I ate them all I didn’t count.” He’s rubbing his cheeks and nose all over your neck and shoulders again, not so subtle erection pressing into you again. “More than four?” You try to politely ignore the prodding of his cock as he squeezes your body in his hands. Grabbing fistfuls of your flesh as he groans. “Oh yeah. More than four.” He sighs, dragging his cock over the cleft of your ass. His spindly fingers already helping themselves to the top button of your jeans. “Fuck. Wooyoung.” He sighs dreamily, “yeah?” Sliding your fly down, tooth by tooth. You swat his hand again. “Wooyoung. You had more than four, it says no more than four.” He whimpers, loosening his grip just barely. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think they were serious,” he whines, slowly reestablishing his hold on you. “You get it now don’t you? I’m so fucked. Please help me. Help me.” His hands return to your fly. “I promise, just let me grind on you a bit and I’ll be good. I’ll let you do what you need to do I just need-” You sigh and roll your eyes, sticking your ass out against him, phone in hand. “Fine. Rub your dumb dick on me. Just shut the fuck up and let me figure out how fucked you are.” Wooyoung thinks he might cum just from sheer giddy excitement, hastily yanking down your jeans and pressing his bulge to your ass, still covered in cute striped underwear. You let him practically drape himself over you as you lean forward on the counter, both elbows anchored to the stone counter. He pants in your ear, jostling your body with each thrust as you try to google reviews of the aphrodisiacs. The first listing is the site Wooyoung bought from, a gag gifts and tchotchke store with no written reviews opting for simple star ratings. The next listing is full of clearly automated reviews lacking substance and information. Your lips press into a thin line. The next three sites are just as hopeless and Wooyoung’s humping is getting more vigorous. He tries to bury his moans in your shoulder, the high pitched whines still reaching your ears. Still you are focused on helping your friend. Trying to hold your arm still to scan the ingredients list for clues you groan in frustration. Wooyoung grabs your breast with a gasp and a grunt, cumming in his boxers, leaving a suspicious damp spot on your ass. His full weight laying on your back relaxed he strokes your breast with his thumb where he assumes your nipple might be beneath the layers of clothes. 

You’d turn around to scold him but you’ve finally found something. A website that looks straight from the late 90s, black background with red comic sans burning itself into your retinas, and it seems to be an older woman’s sex toy review blog. Darla, a 50 year old housewife, reviews her finds on a bi-weekly basis and Willy World’s Addictive Aphrodisiacs is listed. She jokes about her dog accidentally stealing the first bag and needing to buy him four new stuffed plushies over the course of a full eight hours. The vet finally recommended a fertile female mate currently in her care to see if it would encourage quicker cessation of the symptoms which seemed to work.  She gave the product a seven out of ten, recommending both partners take the recommended dosage for best effect.

Both of Wooyoung’s hands cup your breasts, squishing and massaging their weight between his fingers. “You’re so wet you know. It’s not just because of my cock. I can feel it.” “You humped me within an inch of my life, it makes sense.” He presses two fingers against the crotch of your underwear, a sticky squelch of soaked fabric exposes your half truth. “My dick was nowhere near here, that’s all you. You wanna fuck your poor desperate friend, don’t you. You like that I need your help, that I’m all fucked out and needy for you. C’mon take advantage of me. I want you to. Use me. I deserve it. Use me like the dumb fuck toy I am.” His fingers rub against your clit in small insistent circles as he pleads. You gulp. He’s persuasive. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of it once or twice before, shamefully in the late night silence of your room. Maybe you’d even thought about cuddling up next to him on the couch, marathoning a drama. How nice it would be to just fuck him like you owned him. Struggling to keep yourself in line you force your brain back into emergency mode. One of you has to be the one in control, even if the other is steering in a dangerous direction. “Woo, you know I can’t. You’re my best friend. You’re my roommate. You’re my partner in crime. I can’t risk-” Sensing your weakness he launches his three pronged attack, hands working in tandem, one at your breast the other at your button, burying his teeth in the junction between your neck and shoulder right where he’s seen you shudder before when massaging you. Everything you fought with crumbles like it was made of sand. Phone clattering against the countertop you mewl, an undignified high pitched whine as you grasp at the smooth surface to ground yourself. “Extenuating circumstances,” he mumbles, kissing the red splotch, pleased with the small shudder he causes. “I could die. I really could.” In reality at worst he’s in for another 4 hours of this, you assume based on previous experiences with his metabolism, unlikely that he dies. But the one reviewer did say that- the train of thought is cut off abruptly by the thrumming of your clit. How the fuck did he get so good at that? This was not how you’d imagined it at all. “You fucker, you bought c minus sex gummies and didn’t even leave any for me,” you turn to face him, having to arch your back over the counter to look him in the eye. “Okay well next time-” You smack his arm. “Bed. Now. You’re going to fucking pay for this somehow.” Wooyoung practically skips to his bedroom, heart light and grinning from ear to ear. Tossing ruined socks and underwear in the approximate direction of his hamper he hears the soft patting of your feet approaching. He could cum just from anticipation. Turning he sees you there in his door. The demon inside of him stills. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself. Wearing only your underwear and t-shirt, hair in a messy bun, smudged mascara fallout coating your lower lash line, you’re so fucking sexy to him. It’s better than any lingerie because it’s how he knows you and he finally gets to have you to himself. Sat on the edge of his bed, eyes half lidded with lust, boxers doing nothing to conceal his prominent bulge. You watch his eyes drink you in and you make up your mind right there. Go with it. Whatever shenanigans Wooyoung got himself into before you’d always been there and you’d be there until the end. A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as his hand clenches his thigh, chest rising and falling with a shaky exhale. Sauntering over you place one leg between his, straddling him to place your other knee on the bed. “You sure about this?” He turns his head to the side and kisses your wrist softly, earnestly, so carefully your heart hurts. Gazing up at your face, your flyaways forming an angelic halo, his eyes clear from the lust induced haze if only for a second. “You won’t regret it.” “Big talk from a man who came from a single back rub.” He tugs on your panties, face buried in your lower belly, kissing and sucking red spots into your hips. “You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to eat you out. Can’t wait to feel your thighs tremble around my face,” Wooyoung rants like a crazed man, tangling himself around you as you try to step out of your underwear. “You smell like candy and strawberries. Do you know that? Every time after you shower the whole apartment smells like you.” His hands scoop under your ass nearly pulling your legs over his shoulders. Tongue running up your inner thigh he dives in messily sucking and licking your slit, burying his face deep between your thighs, bridge of his nose eagerly grinding into your clit. You grab onto the mop of hair that is Wooyoung to try to steady yourself. “Fuck Woo-what the fuck-” you gasp as he flicks his tongue. “Why are you so good?” The more you wiggle the harder he grabs your ass. His whiny moans vibrate your most intimate parts, tip of his tongue just able to tease your entrance.  Your thighs tense, “Woo-Wooyoung-Woo- I’m- I don’t wanna- hurt you” you grunt,  tugging his hair sharply, forcing him to look up at you. “Use me. Use me to get off.” His voice is hoarse and desperate, your sounds driving him to the brink. “I like it.” His eyes are hazy, slowly pushing his tongue forward to kitten lick your clit, waiting for your next move. “Fuck it, fine,” you groan, pushing his head to you again, his mouth buzzing your mound in delight. Looking down into his eyes you roll your hips against his face, his eyes rolling back to whites, arms assisting each drag of your slit. “You’re right Woo- you got yourself into this mess and you made it my problem. I should get to have some fun from your dumbass mistake.” Slowly trailing a hand up your shirt to play with your nipple you fuck his face with abandon, losing yourself in the loud pops and gasps of your lovers ministrations. Your thighs tense once more so hard you fear you could pop his head clean off but you’re too far gone, walls clenching and pulsing as you cum. Wooyoung whimpers, threatening to topple backwards onto the bed as his abs seize up, cumming untouched in his already ruined boxers. Cupping the back of his neck you roll him back onto the bed, a drunken smile plastered on his ruined face, tongue circling his lips to clear himself of the remnants.

You unceremoniously strip him of his boxers, bunching them and wiping his thighs clean of his fluids. A moment of gentleness. As the gummies had advertised, he’s still impossibly hard and ready to go. Thick and veiny and nearly throbbing purple and red, you see what he meant by thinking it might just burst.

“I’m going to fuck you now Woo, okay? Where are your condoms?” You break your character, backing away from his bed. “NO,” Wooyoung sits bolt upright. “I need to feel you. I need to. Please I can’t. I’ll go insane being that close. I really will. I need to - I need you to let me - please let me-” “Jung Woo Young, do you really think-” “I’m clean, I know you’re clean after that asshole cheated you went to the clinic and I know i wasn’t supposed to but i overheard you and I know I see you take pills every day and I can go buy plan b when this is all over-” he babble just like he was when you found him, lower lip quivering. “I’ll be so good and if you if we-if it takes I’ll be the best dad if you wanna or I can wait in the waiting room and I’ll cook your favorite meal-”

Closing your eyes you sigh, putting the role back on. You push him, both hands to his shoulders, back onto the bed. Crawling over top of him he continues prattling on and on so far into the future it’s nearly nonsense. “Woo-” you speak lowly, looking up through your eyebrows at him. He doesn’t notice. So you slap him. Not enough to turn his head but enough to shock him back to earth.with wide eyes and a moan. ”I’m going to fuck you now Wooyoung, you better watch carefully because it’s only happening once.”

Hovering just close enough to slot him snugly in your entrance you steady yourself with one hand on his side and slide down onto him. Wooyoung pupils dilate with each disappearing inch, veins in his neck bulging as he focuses on where you meet, afraid he might miss even a millisecond. He feels velvety and warm and fills you nicely, stretching your walls from tip to base as you settle with him fully inside you.

“I’m gonna-” “Shut the fuck up Wooyoung.” You grind your hips on him. “Toys don’t talk.” His jaw drops, abs tensing. Two potent drives tear him apart. The need to cum and the need to please. Brows furrowed and eyes closed he tries his best to focus on anything but how good he feels. The second he dares sneak a peek he throbs against your walls, spilling into you. “Sorry.” He squeaks. You both pause, waiting. Worried it might be over just as it starts. Your hips continue swiveling on him in small circles. He doesn’t soften. “You still good Woo?” “Fucking Willy World’s Addictive Aphrodisiacs. Yeah. Very much.” “Can I just- I’m going to do what feels good for me because everything seems to do it for you.” “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

You drag your hips back and forth, one hand holding his thigh, the other on his stomach. Chasing your high you close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting out a deep throaty moan. Sweating and trembling you tug at the hem of your shirt uselessly. Two hands trail up your thighs to help it off of you. “Woo, you feel really good.” You whine, taking his hand and placing it on your thigh, holding it there.

Wooyoung could die then and he wouldn’t care. The softness of your skin, the way your breasts bounce as you rut against him, the pout of your lips in a soft “O” shape, and best of all his cum dripping slowly out around him mixed with you. He can feel another climax on the horizon. Almost painfully cramping his muscles as your cunt milks him for another load. Seeing white it’s all worth it for your choked moan. His fingernails dig into your thighs as his hips thrust up and push him even deeper into you, head of his cock just kissing your cervix as he coats your walls once more with a painful grunt. Deep relief washes over his whole body, like a weight lifts off and his soul floats halfway between life and death. Rest. Finally rest.

“That’s it, my good boy. My Wooyoung. My good little horny bastard. Still there? Still with me?” Your eyes are equally as unfocused as his now. Exhausted but still slowly working down your aftershocks. In the pleasant haze you feel him drop out of you as he softens. Trying to shuffle off him to clean up he flips you onto your side wordlessly and pulls you to him. “It’s over?” “Mhmm,” he buries his nose in your wilted bun. “Your sheets-” “Later.” “Wooyoung.” You flip yourself onto your stomach to look at him, scowling as a glob of cum drips from your used cunt. “I love you. Sheets later. Cuddles now.” His palm rubs between your shoulder blades as you snuggle into his side. “Next time I’ll save some for you.” Because of course there would be a next time.

Okay so yes i let this one get away from be but I’ve been wanting to write some good ol’ fuck or die sort of scifi bullshit for a while.

[lunaeclips]

Here is how far I am in writing my book/novel/whatever I'm doing.

I want feedback on how good it is, what needs changed, and I also need a title because you can't have an untitled book.

(Prologue) Many people believe there to be some sort of god, and the ones who don’t traditionally think that the universe is all on its own and that anything sentient has to have originated from a planet with advanced life. I, however, am part of a small group of people who believe that there are four higher powers, each of which being stronger than the last. No one else in the group is brave enough to go on the journey to search for them though, leaving it all to me. 

Some people have called us a cult, and to be fair, we certainly act like one. There are a few key differences though, one being that none of us worship any of the higher powers, we just believe that they are there. This is a sort of retelling of the story, with some parts being filled in by the others. Please, sit back and read, have some water and food as well, because this story is one hell of a ride.

(Chapter one: The Awakening) “Where is that damn satchel!” Brush yelled, growing more and more frustrated with every failed attempt at finding it. We were meeting at his house, due to him wanting to show something that was very important and yet he couldn’t find it. I’ve always found it funny when people couldn’t find something they lost, even if I was the one who was hiding it. “Maple, where did you put it?” Marsh said. Marsh was the leader of the group, and being the oldest sibling in her family, she often took control of sparratic situations like this. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Marsh,” I said “Maybe blame someone else for once?”

“Just get it out, it might actually be important and if it is, we need it.” She was being more demanding now, a tell-tale sign of her becoming agitated. “Fiiiiine, but stop blaming me, ok?” “I’m not promising anything like that to you, Maple.” She said, yanking the satchel out of my grip. Everyone sat at their designated spots around the circle as Marsh called for the meeting to be officially started.

“So,” Brush started, “We all know that there is a special artifact that leads us to one of the powers, right?”

Everyone nodded, with a few sparse yeah’s and yes’s scattered around.

He dramatically pulled a glowing orb out of the satchel. It was small enough to easily fit into the palm of one’s hand. “I found this while wandering around the woods, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I thought that maybe this could be that artifact.” He held it out for everyone to see, glowing with a substance unknown to the planet. 

Everyone leaned in, hoping to get a better look at the strange orb. He passed it towards Bristle, who took it with glee, looking at every detail they could before passng it to Brush. It slowly passed around the circle of people, landing last on Maple, who took it into her hands with much more caution than the others. She inspected the stuff inside, a swirling mass of black and another color that keeps changing by the second. 

What could this be? Maple wondered, racking her brain of vast knowlege on the legends of the four powers. As soon as it started to click, Marsh yanked it from her hands, making her train of thought fly off and everyone jumped at the suddenness of the action. 

“What’d you do that for?!” yelled Brush, angry at him for doing that.

“She was getting too handsy,” he explained “and I found it anyway so I should get a say on what happens.” At that statment, everyone started to shout at him, saying things similar to “That’s not how this works!” or “Are you serious?!”

The only person not talking was Maple, trying to catch that train of thought that had almost given her the answer, but it was to no avail because as her parents always said, If you lose something incomprehensible, it’ll take a while to get it back.

@aroacedragongirl @sombrathedragon @inkyxsmiles @yellow-computer-mouse @gay-witches-are-the-best @scrollwyrm @spookys1fan @verrixstudios

[hintsofhoney]

Bad Moon Rising

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: The world's ending, and Dean has something to confess.

Square(s) Filled: free space for @anyfandomangstbingo

Tags: 16+, kinda fluffy, kinda angsty

Word Count: 492

A/N: I'm (semi) back! I had a baby, so writing has been on the backburner, but this was my first time dipping my toes in the water since I gave birth and I'm hoping it's the first step in getting over this postpartum writer's block. This was written for @deanwanddamons' rock flash fic challenge! The song I got was Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival, and whatever this is was born. GIF is mine. Enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been an hour, maybe two, since they accepted their fate. They don’t know exactly when the world is ending, but Cas thinks it’ll be within the next few hours or so. 

Y/N needs to find Dean. Not because she thinks he’s found a way out of this mess — there is no way out — but because she loves him, and whether he knows that or not, she wants to spend her last moments on Earth next to him. She finds him right where she knew he’d be — sitting in Baby, in the bunker’s garage.

She walks over and opens the door, sliding into the passenger’s seat without saying a word. Dean’s staring out the windshield, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. He doesn’t move to look at her. He doesn’t say a word.

“Dean,” she whispers, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He lets out a long, shaky breath. “We can’t fix it this time.”

“‘fraid not,” she replies with a soft chuckle. Not because it’s funny, but because if she doesn’t laugh, she��ll cry.

“God dammit!” he shouts, hitting the center of the steering wheel, causing Baby to honk. 

Y/N flinches, but keeps her hand on his shoulder. 

Dean sighs and lets his head fall back, resting on the top of the seat as he fixes his eyes on the car’s ceiling. 

“I thought we had more time,” he says, barely audible. 

“Yeah, we all did,” she replies with a sad smile.

“No, I mean — I thought we had more time.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Us, Y/N. This isn’t how I thought we were gonna go. I thought —”

He stops himself, but she so desperately needs to hear the rest. 

“You thought what, Dean?”

He takes a deep breath. Fuck it. The world is ending, right?

“I thought I’d at least get to kiss you before I died. Tell you I’ve been in love with you for the past four years. Settle down one day. White picket fence. Maybe a dog. Get out of this life, start our own.”

He turns his head slightly, his green eyes searching her face for a reaction.

She’s stunned into silence, but then the silence turns to soft laughter, and she’s shaking her head in disbelief while she thinks about what to say. 

She settles on, “I can’t believe you waited until the end of the world to tell me you’re in love with me.”

He shrugs and huffs a quiet laugh. “You know I don’t like talking about my feelings.”

She chuckles. “You’re better at it than me, ‘cause I was gonna take my feelings to the grave.”

There’s silence as he processes her reply. His eyes fill with hope as he realizes what she’s saying. “Wait. So you…?”

“Since I’ve known you, you idiot.”

He smiles like the world isn’t ending in a few hours. She kisses him like it is. 

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @pizzagirlxoxo // @boeshaneboy // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995 // @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

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You can join my taglist(s) here!

[violettavonviolet]

Tim Drake fic recs

All fics are finished and absolutely amazing. The word count goes up as you scroll. This rec list is entirely platonic but do check tags for triggers!

Janet Drake Is Alive And That's Officially Everyone's Problem (But Mostly Tim.)

Tht0neGal666

Summary:

They still hadn't looked at each other. It was starting to get a bit creepy.

"So you are satisfied, living like this?" She asked, with the slightest twitch of displeasure.

Quickly, Drake's eyes flashed over each of them, and he nodded. "Enough."

"Are you necessary?" She followed immediately, something dangerous in her tone, and there was the quickest flash of fear in Drake's eyes.

"Enough." He repeated firmly. She scoffed, but didn't say anything.

1.5k Janet centric teen

Wash Your Mouth Out

fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary:

Tim shows his worry in a different way than most.

2.3k tim & damian teen

Shutter Bug

Heartslogos

How could i not notice the stutter? Jason snorts.

3k gen batfam

A Worthy Father

Crowlows19

Summary:

Jack Drake forces his son to give up being Robin. He could never have predicted the consequences of parenting a Robin-less Tim Drake. He may never sleep again and Bruce Wayne certainly has no sympathy for him.

3.7k teen Jack & Tim

A Recipe for Disaster

Calypso_Rambles, JUBE514

Summary:

“You’re crying.”

That’s the Red Hood, standing in the doorway into the hall, a hulking figure filling the frame, head tilted in question and hands on a gun that’s pointed to the floor. He looks uncertain, head tilted to the side like a goddamn bird.

“What?” Tim asks, because Tim is confused– he knows this is Jason Todd, kinda hard to miss with the red helmet and when the dude tried to blow up Dick and Bruce about a week earlier in the same outfit, but what the actual fuck is he doing in San Francisco–

“You’re crying.” Red Hood repeats, forgoing a one handed grip on his weapon to gesture to his– well– his everything.

Tim moves his hand up to his cheeks because he is definitely not crying over something as stupid as his dinn–

Huh. 

Okay. 

Maybe he is.

✦✦✦

Tim and Jason make food, drink and talk about parents. Jason was meant to kill this kid, but plans have a way of being derailed.

6k teen Tim & Jason

Doctor, Except for Everything, I Am Perfectly Fine

Mouse_in_this_house

Summary:

Alfred and Bruce decide they have to update the kids' medical information. If the others aren't a fan if this, then Tim is even worse. Guess who's missing his spleen?

6.9k gen humor

A Cure For Starvation

PrinceJakeFireCake

Summary:

Tim has always had problems with people touching him. 

Jason also has problems with people touching him.

They try to work it out.

7k gen jason& tim

Little bird

Ididloveyou_once

Summary:

Tim knew he was fucked if only for the way that his brain was chanting Jason, like a litany. So he definitely didn’t need to hear the cold, mechanical chuckle or the chillingly delighted 'lucky me' to know that this was not good.

He took a second to look down at his coffee mournfully. 

Then, he threw it at Hood’s helmet and bolted down the Tower corridor. 

Or: Tim is supposed to be at Gotham Academy for a parent-teacher conference. Hood has other plans (Titans Tower AU).

8k teen Jason & Tim

lost treasure

adelfie

Summary:

“Dad, I don’t want to do this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want. This is why we brought you here,” Jack hisses. “So we can get paid.”

Or: When a cozy night out with his parents turns into a night of captivity and torture, Tim is forced to seek protection from his worst nightmare - the Red Hood.

9k angst teen Jason & Tim

wither on the shore

Scarlet_Ribbons

Summary:

“Replacement.”

Tim freezes, gaze still locked on Jack’s prone, silent form sprawled out on the floor, and pulls the phone back to look at the number.

It’s kind of funny, he thinks hazily. Of course he would accidentally kill his dad and then mistakenly call Jason, of all people.

9.6k angst teen Jason&Tim

Boom, Boom, Pow!

LilaVaporizer9000

Summary:

If anyone asked the Batfamily which Robin had the funniest ’joining the family’ story? Well, everyone would start with, “Well it seemed like Jason had the spot taken for good after having the audacity to try and jack the Batmobile’s tires and hit Bruce with his tire iron.” And then they’d say, “But then tiny Tim decided to try and steal the whole thing.”

Or: When Tim is 11 he figures it’s not hurting anyone if he. Ya know. Takes a picture in the Batmobile. But then the power goes to his head and all of a sudden he’s hacking the Batmobile and tearing through Gotham on a rescue mission.

11k feral tim teen

Street Lights would Guide you (and flicker in my shadow)

StarryKitty013

There was a lonely kid, hanging upside down off a fire escape looking at the world through a long range camera lens. 

13k angst teen

buried hope

paperxcrowns

Summary:

“You’re a sorry sight,” Jason says, and forces a water bottle in Tim’s shaking hand.

“Had a bad day,” Tim gasps, shakily trying to twist the cap off.

Jason snorts. “I’d say.”

Tim’s too busy draining the bottle to glare at Jason.

OR

tim spends another birthday alone and makes bad decisions.

11k teen angst

Into the Deep Dark Night

siren_of_the_ocean

Summary:

Timothy Jackson Drake drowns in Gotham Bay with not a bang, but a whimper. 

Luckily...or not, Gotham isn't quite ready to give him up yet. 

“Spirits of children and women drowned, my child. They live in the ponds that glisten like tar. The Rusalka."

14.8k angst teen

I’m Pretty Sure Tim Steals Clothes: An Elaboration In The Form Of A Long Fic

PrinceJakeFireCake

Summary:

Basically what it says on the tin.

““How many shirts do you have of Superboy’s, again?” Jason asked, his brows furrowed.

“I stole fifteen before Clark told me to stop,” Tim said. “I did not stop. Those aren’t even all of them, I have more upstairs.”

“How many Superboy shirts is too many Superboy shirts?” Jason pondered.

“I’m approaching the thousands,” Tim admitted. “I’m admittedly not the best person to pose such a question to.””

15k core four angst gen

Prince and Pauper

Vamillepudding

Summary:

When Tim first proposes his plan, Jason calls him batshit insane.

"Why?" Tim asks stubbornly. “It’ll be a win-win situation – I get a new life without some guardian tying me down, and you get a new life where you can eat food every day and live in a big house. You’ll probably have to go to school, but that’s the only downside I can think of. That, and pretending to be me, of course."

*

In the wake of Jack and Janet Drake's untimely death, Bruce sets out to search for their missing son, determined to adopt him. After a long, arduous search, he finally brings home a new addition to his family.

He fails to realise that the new kid living in Wayne Manor is not Tim Drake.

16k Tim & Jason & dick gen

You put Tim in box? You BOX him like dog?? Oh! Jail for Jason! Jail for one thousand years~

antebunny

Summary:

Jason tries a kinder method of getting Tim to give up Robin. It goes even worse than his original idea.

17k jason & tim teen

falling without caution

coffeecrowns

Summary:

Jason is twenty, decidedly less into murder, trying to avoid developing agoraphobia, and putting together some pieces into a life. 

Tim is sixteen, riding the edge of burnout, and in a show of his truly baffling survival instincts, decides Jason is friend shaped.

17k child soldiers angst mature

 Grin and Bear It (I got blood on your carpet)

Alia_JuneBug

Summary:

When Jack Drake’s business trip gets canceled, he is forced to stay at home while the legal kinks get worked out. He’s not used to having a teenager underfoot, so it’s only rational that he’s a little snappish around Tim. At least, that’s what Tim tells himself each time his dad’s idea of discipline gets harsher.

Bruce had told him to take a break from Robin in order to spend some time at home with his dad, and Tim can’t say no to that. He knows Bruce is probably glad to be rid of him for a short while.

And he can handle discipline. This is a Tim Drake problem, not a Robin problem anyway. There’s no need for Bruce to know anything.

Things get a little muddled when an injured Jason Todd crawls through his bedroom window.

18k not rated

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne

theskeptileptic

Summary:

Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that.

When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything.

A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

25k gen

Dangerous and Noble Things

destiny919

Summary:

Timothy Drake was abducted by Ra's al Ghul.

Four years later, somebody notices.

45k angst

Let's be Brothers

Honeybuttons

Summary:

Jason was not the biggest fan of Tim, but it was clear that he didn’t hate him anymore. And if he didn’t hate him anymore, Tim could get him to love him. Right?

By his own carefully determined calculations, Tim could achieve this goal in 90 days or less. Day one started tomorrow morning with a surprise breakfast donut and an invitation to go watch the birds.

Or that time Tim was determined to be brothers and Jason was determined to be resistant and confused.

46k tim & jason gen humor 

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map

ebjameston

Summary:

CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us

Red Hood: He's fine where he is

CPS: He's a minor

Hood: Timbo, you a minor?

Tim: Can't prove it

CPS: I mean, I can. There are records –

Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records

+++

A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. 

It's a weird day for Theo.

51k humor teen

Into the Brighter Night

shoalsea

Summary:

When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. 

Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. 

Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

160k core four gen

[cass1opi4]

Hi! I've never seen a reader with Tourette's, do you think you could write a spiderman|peter Parker x m! Reader where they're on a mission and the reader's tics give away their location? That would be awesome <3

double trouble | peter parker

a peter parker x reader

he/him pronouns

˚₊‧��ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

for the first time in what felt like his whole life, y/n had finally felt like a real person. his whole life, he’d been spoken to with pity - or bullied and provoked. no middle ground. either people would purposely trigger his tics, finding humour in the condition that had come upon him at seven, or tiptoed around him, walked on eggshells after knowing about his tourettes.

the boy sat beside him had never, not once, dared to do either. partially because he somehow had yet to clock onto the repetitive behaviours, yet also partially because it was not who he was as a person to judge someone because of such a thing.

he talked to y/n like he was normal. because he was in fact almost completely normal, bar the ability to literally move things with his mind. “we can talk about anything, right?” he spoke, unsure about whether or not he should bring up his thoughts.

“of course.” peter nodded, turning his head away from the sunset and toward his friend. “whats going on in the head of yours?”

“i..” he sighed “i feel like my entire life - everybody else has been in on some massive inside joke that only i’m not apart of.” it didn’t make sense, yet at the same time it made perfect sense. “it feels as if they all know something i don’t, and because of that everybody finds a way to point out my cluelessness.”

peter took the words in for a second, before agreeing “i feel that, i feel crazy sometimes.” y/n ushered him to continue “somehow people always find something in me they don’t like, which is messed up because i try my best to do everything right - but it feels so easy to fail.”

“thats why your dad left!” the boy instantly regretted the statement, following it up with a rushed apology, being interrupted by his friend.

“thats why yo momma love me more.” he shrugged simply, smug smile on his face, a gasp left y/n’s mouth.

“my momma dead.” he frowned, peters face dropped, fear filling his face “she isnt! i saw her this morning!”

“thank fuck.” he sighed “do you remember when i first found out about your tics? that was funny.”

y/n laughed “i do.. you were so freaked out.”

the two were hidden behind a wall, listening in on a conversation - well. one of them was. whilst peter was hyper-focused on the talking going on right next to them, y/n was in his own head about everything, focusing so hard on not blurting out anything that could ruin the mission. though, his tics were like coughs - the more you focused on not coughing, the more likely you were to grow your need to do so.

his heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his head, and unfortunately, this distracted his thoughts. “penis parker!” he belted out, eyes widening after he did so. “fuck.” he sighed, being shot at. he floated a desk, throwing it at the group of bad guys before gripping onto peter as the boy webbed out of there.

“what the fuck?!” he yelled once they got to safety, dragging his hands across his face as he ripped of his mask “how did you even find that out? how-“

“you’re peter?!” y/n gasped, mouth agape. now peter was even more lost. if he’d just outed himself for no reason, why did the other boy shout out such a condescending statement? “i- er..”

“why would you do that?” peter looked hurt, watching y/n pull off his gas-mask and frown. “y/n? what?!”

“i have tourettes.. i- i like, say things that are out of control. sometimes my brain and my body don’t communicate that great, i dont want to do or say these things, but i just do? i’m really sorry.”

“why are you sorry about that? if you can’t control it you shouldn’t have to apologise about it.” peter spoke “im sorry for freaking out, i honestly had no idea - kinda thought you were just being mean..”

“a lot of people assume so.”

the sky was now dark, void of stars thanks to the light pollution in new york, but the scene was still strangely beautiful. the new found silence between the two was nice, not an uncomfortable one, just two friends reminiscing on one of their first missions together.

peter hesitated to break the silence, not sure if his next statement would mean enough to ruin such a nice moment between them.

“can i say something weird?” he asked, watching his best friend nod, yet let out a rather contradicting ‘nuh-uh.’ “i.. getting to know you this past year or so has been what i’d consider the best part of my life. you’re so good.. in everything you do, you’re so good. i don’t think ive ever met a person who balances kind, handsome and funny as well as you do. i just.. i dont know. i-“

“are you confessing to me right now, parker?” y/n grinned, praying his assumption was correct, if he was wrong he’d deem it the most embarrassing interaction known to man.

peter bit his lip, nodding. “yeah, i am. i’m sorry.” his eyes shifted from the sky, locking eyes with, what he considered to be, an even more breath-taking sight. “you’re just so.. you. and i like that. in a world of people all trying to be the same you get to be you.”

“i’m so glad i have you in my life.” y/n thought aloud, moving his hand slightly to touch with peter’s “penis parker! you treat me like a person. and you’re so fucking unreal, you look hot doing everything- which is weird, because most people have at least one thing they look disgusting doing. but, god, even the way you eat pizza knocks me the fuck out.”

peter just smiled to himself, leaning his head on y/n’s shoulder, earning an arm wrapped around his shoulder, and a small kiss on the head.

for the first time in what felt like his whole life, y/n had finally felt like more than a person. he felt loved.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

HI SKIBIDISSSS, im so sorry this is rushed i really want to go play royale high bc im brainrotted beyond belief unfortunately. im also just so out of writing motivation that writing feels like a choreeee. im ALSO sorry if this has inaccuracies! i have a friend with tourettes and got their help with a few traits in this. though, in my friends words their tourettes “isnt severe and mainly vocal.” so base it on that. thankyou for reading!!! sorry its short.

[brokebonewritings]

Sinking Waters

Matt Murdock x reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, language, mentions of alcohol/drugs, fluff, light angst

Summary: Matt and Foggy invite you out for a night. You wondered if Matt would ever make a move on you or if you would keep being mistook as a couple. Song: The Pink Phantom by Gorillaz

Word Count: 2K

Navigation || Series Masterlist

Your dorm room had filled with a haze as you blew the white smoke from your mouth. The blunt you held between your fingers had only been lit a few minutes, and it seemed like half of it was already smoked. 

This was the only nice thing about not having to share a dorm with anyone. You could sneak things like this in with no one snitching. Occasionally the kid from your Civil Procedures class would come smoke with you, along with his roommate.

His roommate. Matt Murdock. He was definitely a looker. Oh and Foggy was cool. Franklin Nelson. They both were definitely a dynamic duo. You all had become fast friends, finding lots of things in common.

A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You dropped the blunt in the ashtray and went to open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask, hand on the doorknob.

“Housekeeping.” 

You laugh as you open your door, Matt and Foggy stand there with the dumbest grins plastered on their faces. Foggy had his arm wrapped around Matt’s shoulder while the other man gripped his cane. 

“Why do I feel like you guys are coming to kidnap me.” You say as you give Foggy the side eye.

“We were wondering if you wanted to come to a bar with us?” Foggy says casually.

“A bar?” You stared at them blankly. “Like for drinking?”

“I sure hope so.” Matt says lightly.

“Sure, let me finish my blunt and grab my coat real quick.” You say moving aside. They happily walk into your dorm room.

Matt sits at the empty desk chair while Foggy sits on the bed. You walk back over to the window and pick up the blunt and take a long inhale. The smoke no longer affected your lungs as you let it all out.

The three of you joke as you finish, and put on your winter coat. Within 20 minutes, you all are walking off the Columbia campus and into the busy streets of Harlem. It was a much different dynamic

You let Foggy and Matt the way to this mystery bar. They were both pretty trustworthy of a fun time. However some of the places you’ve trusted them with were absolute dives. This looked like one of those places. 

“Josies?” You mutter.

“Don’t like how it looks?” Matt’s voice responds questionly.

“Murdock, what did Foggy tell you this place looked like?”

“I told him it’s the sistine chapel, let's get moving people.” Foggy said before Matt could respond.

Opening the door, all three of you step in one by one. It was definitely a dive, but it was charming. You and Matt found a table and waited for Foggy to bring over the drinks.

“How many times have you actually been here, Matty.”

As he folded his cane up, he replied. “A few times, I think the owner likes Foggy.”

You turn your head towards the bar to see Foggy pseudo flirting with the waitress. He had a charm to him, and she definitely found it funny. Giggling, you turn back to Matt who was also chuckling.

“Okay but I gotta know, how did you even find this place?”

“Foggy stumbled upon it, and then forced me to come.” He starts. “It isn’t the sistine chapel, is it?”

Snorting in amusement, you shake your head. “It’s definitely not, but it’s not a bad place either.”

Three glasses were slammed on the table in front of you. Looking up you see Foggy looking triumphant.

“Lady and Gent. I have brought the gift of free alcohol, won by yours truly.” He announced.

“No way, how?” You ask

“Like I said, the owner likes Foggy.” Matt replied.

“Ha ha, you’re just jealous that the bartender actually thinks my jokes are funny.”

“Sure, man, let’s go with that.” 

You hand Matt his glass before taking your own. The golden liquid looked refreshing in the chilled glass. Okay so maybe it wasn’t a dive, but still. You take a long drink before setting the glass back on the table.

Before you knew it, you all had gone through a few drinks. Foggy gets up once more to retrieve more drinks which meant more time alone with Matt. Weren’t you so lucky tonight. Or not.

“Hello, handsome.”

You and Matt look up from your conversation to see a girl standing in front of the table.

“Can I help you?” Matt responds.

“Well I was just wondering what such a good looking man like you was doing here.” 

You stared at the girl before turning back to Matt. His jaw was slightly slack, like he didn't know how to respond. Which didn't happen often.

“My friends and I were just having some drinks. You know, enjoying each other's company?” He states. She turns to look at you before looking back at him.

“Oh sorry I thought you were single.” The girl nervously said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

You side eye Matt trying to gauge his reaction, but he looked stunned. He cleared his throat before responding.

“Oh no, we’re not together.” He starts and this makes your heart drop just a bit. Of course you weren’t together, you had only known each other a few months. Why were you getting your hopes up then?

“In that case, maybe I could get your number?” She says, smiling and twirling her hair.

Looking around to avoid listening to anymore of the conversation, you see Foggy coming back towards the table. He looks confused as to why you’re staring at him, until he sees the girl.

Finally reaching the table, he greets you and Matt again and sets your drinks down in front of you. The girl finally satisfied with her winnings leaves before Foggy could introduce himself.

“I think I need to use the bathroom.” You said as your heart beat loudly against your chest. Getting up, you walk to the back hallway in search of the bathroom. Of course once you entered you weren’t surprised by the state of it.

Two stalls and a makeout session. Classic. You enter the empty stall and lock it. Waiting. For what exactly, you had no idea. Time to pass, maybe.

After five minutes, you exit the stall after pretending to flush the toilet. Lo and behold, Matt’s new plaything was standing at the sink. Stalking over to wash your hands, you feel her eyes burning holes in your skull.

“It’s a little sad that he can’t see huh?”

You freeze. Was she talking to you? Dingus. Of course she was talking to you.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah I mean like, he’s cute, but like if he can’t see then what’s the point?”

“Why did you ask for his number then?”

There was a pause. Your voice was filled with something other than curiosity. You continue.

“Maybe the point is that he’s funny, smart, and considerate?”

“Uhm right. Anyways…” 

Apparently she deemed the conversation to be over as she turns and exits. You stand silently for a moment, taking in the full conversation. It was the first time you had defended Matt’s honor. 

Finally you make your way out of the bathroom. Looking around to remember where you all sat, you notice Matt staring in your direction. Or rather his head was turned that way.

You caught yourself staring, even after his head turned away. Did he know you were coming back? Another crazy thought. You make your way back to the table and find three shots of fireball waiting for you.

“What’s the catch?” You say as you arrive.

“Hey! Welcome back!” Matt said slightly slurred. 

“Oh my god, Foggy, what’s wrong with him?”

“I think Fireball is his kryptonite, dude.” He replied with a laugh.

“Yeah I’ll drink to that.” You say before slamming each shot back.

Never before had you seen him drunk. Not even tipsy. How in the world did he manage to get like this? After a few more drinks, both you and Foggy cut the other man off. Deciding it was finally time to get back to campus.

The walk to get Matt back to the dorm was long and silent. It was the first time you had seen him get as drunk as he was, but you and Foggy had no qualms of taking care of your friend.

Once you had finally gotten him in bed and settled, Foggy had asked to walk you back to your own dorm. You agreed and said you would wait outside.

Waiting along the long concrete wall you pull out your pack of cigarettes and light one. The night had been eventful to say the least. Your crush always seemed to pick other people. Not that you have actually tried to make advances.

You turn your head to see Foggy step out into the cold. Throwing your cigarette on the ground, you turn to face him as he walks up.

“I get the feeling that girl ruined your night.” He states bluntly.

“Why does this always happen? Every single time we’re in public, he gets hit on!” 

“Why does it matter?”

There was a long pause. Foggy gasps before grabbing your shoulders and shaking you.

“You like him!”

“Foggy, stop!”  You grab his wrists. “It doesn’t matter because he’ll never like me back!”

“Oh common, you don’t know that!”

“No it’s true! I’m too timid to even ask him on a date.”

You both stood quietly. He was processing what to say, and you were waiting for his response.

“Then, maybe, I don’t know.” 

“Nice, Fog. Really insightful there.”

“Okay, look. Yes, the guy is attractive but maybe just be his friend?” He starts. “He has enough women swooning over him.”

Nodding, you understood what he was saying. He continued to speak.

“Maybe things will evolve if you just be his friend. That’s how a lot of relationships work out anyways.”

He was right. Lots of relationships sprouted from friendships. It would be a way to get to know each other.

“You’re right. Sorry I snapped at you.” You say.

“It’s alright, I know I can be a lot sometimes.” 

“Not at all, You’re very charming and any girl would be lucky to date you.”

“You’re too kind. Now, let's get you home.”

With that he offered his arm out to you and you gladly took it. You realize that you’ve finally found some friends who cared about you. Nothing like people back home.

New York had some strange characters. Nasty one, yeah, but also some that are fun to be around. Just like Foggy, and just like Matt.

Halfway back to your dorm room, you look up at Foggy. He was going on about how one of his professors had the hots for him. You giggle, and lean into his shoulder. Feeling him tense up a bit, you look back up.

“You okay?” You ask.

He nods at you and looks up towards the sky.

“You know, Aristotle said ‘Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.’”

“Since when did you pay attention in Philosophy?” 

“I’ll have you know that just because my eyes are closed, it doesn't mean that I’m not listening.” He chuckles. “Anyways, the point is it’s clear that you and Matt were made for each other. You just gotta wait.”

“That might have been the most comforting thing you’ve ever said.” You smirk. “But thanks. You’re a great friend, Fog.”

“And you know how you thank great friends?” He says stopping in front of your building.

“How?”

“By offering them to come inside and smoke a joint.”

You begin to loudly laugh, and he joins you. Not caring about the passersby staring at you both. Nodding you invite him in and give him a little extra for later on. 

After he leaves, you sit alone in the dorm. It’s dimly lit by the small lamp you have and the lights from outside. Being with one of the guys you realize how comfortable you feel and less lonely. 

Foggy’s words linger in your mind, “You just gotta wait.”. It was easier said than done, but you listen. You wait. The whole semester. Through graduation. Years. Until…

join my taglist!

[heckinconfusedparade]

The time Shadow threatened Tails and Tails fought back (SCU)

This was certainly not one of Tails’ better ideas. He had located Robotniks hidden (well not so hidden anymore) lab and decided he’s going to yoink the chaos emerald he has. If you had asked Tails what mindset he had going into this, he’d tell you “I don’t know.”

Tails sneaks down the corridor silently telling his stupid thumping heart to shut up. Every small sound made him nearly leap out of his skin. He knows Robotnik himself and his assistant is in the kitchen, but what is currently scaring him now is that he has no idea where Shadow is. Every interaction he’s had with the dark hedgehog up until now has been less than pleasant, and he is so not looking forward to their next meeting.

Tails takes some deep breaths. Ok. He can do this. Maybe. Hey is it getting hot in here? Maybe this was a bad idea.. maybe he should turn around, go home, slither into his warm bed, and forget any of this happened! Unfortunately it’s too late now. He’s already at the heart of this concrete cold base. Tails reaches a back room that looks preeeetty important! It’s the computer room! He starts shuffling around some files on the computer hoping to maybe catch a glimpse at future plans. He used his Miles Electric to take pictures of the screens whenever something of interest pops up. So far he’s received intel on chaos data, Ultimate Lifeform logs, and something about an ARK Colony in space.

“Interesting..” he says, “Robotniks grandfather created a space colony AND Shadow… 50 years ago?! Man.. maybe I should ask Shadow for his secrets on staying young!” Tails chuckles to himself. He’s funny. It’s also a way of settling his nerves.

While jotting down the coordinates of the lair to save for later, Tails hears some footsteps outside the room. He hides behind an island and covers his mouth to muffle his breathing. Tails can hear his heartbeat and feel it in his throat. Then he turns his head and spots something on a low shelf. It’s blue and it’s glowing! He recognizes it as “Sonics quill..?” He whispers. He starts to slowly crawl towards it.

But then he feels a hand that stops him in his tracks. The hand is cold, strong, and unforgiving. The hand grabs ahold of his two tails and drags him out of his hiding spot roughly, triggering Tails to whimper in pain. He is lifted upside down to dangle by his tails. He feels a cold shiver when he realizes it’s Shadow; holding him up like a prized fish.

“Hello, Tails.” Shadow says coldly. Shadow looks around and hums “looks like it’s just you here.. you came here alone. That’s dangerous.” He tightens his grip.

Tails shuts his eyes.

-

“Hey, guys, look who I found!”

“Hah! What a wimp! Thought you could hide from us, freak?”

“P-please put me down..!”

“Not a chance. You’re a freak of nature! You should be put on display!”

“Hey- hey I wonder.. how much that extra tail is worth?”

“Ohohoho I do wonder! Maybe if we keep tugging on one of em, it’ll snap off! Then he’ll finally look normal!”

“How’s about it, Tails? We’re doin you a favour.”

-

“Leave. Me. ALONE!” Tails roars and kicks Shadow right in the face. Shadow coils back holding his face in pain, dropping the young fox. With tears pricking his eyes at the unfond memory, Tails scrambles to his feet and balls his fists. He’s scared out of his mind, but that one kick filled him with the adrenaline he last felt fighting those badniks in Green Hills. Right when he’s about to reach for one of his weapons in his backpack, Shadow growls and looks at the fox with fire in his eyes, and chaos crackling around him. Tails gulps.

Shadow grins “that was a rough kick.. you’re stronger than you look.”

Tails feels the urge to move- and fast. Tails darts to his left, and discovers his gut was right, because right when he moved, Shadow charged at him. Shadow quickly repositions himself and prepares to deliver a round house kick to Tails who flies out of the way but feels the heat of Shadows air shoes graze against his side. Shadow looks frustrated “give up and submit. You know I’m faster than you!”

Tails, in a brief moment of absolute 300 IQ brilliance says “then how come I keep dodging you?” he feels his heart stop when Shadow grabs his feet and plucks him out of the air and pins him on the cold ground. Shadow makes a mistake of letting go of his legs and going for his arms. Tails learned this move from wrestling with his brothers.. the ultimate little sibling move! Tails delivers multiple swift kicks to Shadows torso to get him to back off. Shadow does back off, but to Tails’ both surprise and horror: he’s smiling. Shadow has deemed Tails a worthy opponent.

Orange and red chaos energy crackles around Shadow once more “I never considered you’d fight back more than your ‘brother’. He just wanted to talk to me. But you.. you’re smarter than that. You know the only way you’re getting out of this alive is by fighting.”

Shadows words resurface another one of Tails’ recent memories.

-

Sonic limps inside the Wachowski house alongside Knuckles, holding his side and dirty. His parents rush to his side along with Tails.

“Sonic, what happened?!”

“Oh my god- baby are you ok?”

“I-I’m fine..”

Sonic groans in pain, talking seeming to hurt right now.

“He and Shadow fought again. Sonic did not fight back. Sonic wanted to talk to him, but Shadow did not have anything to say. I found them right when Shadow kicked him in the ribs.”

“Sonic…”

“Tails. Buddy, I’m ok.. I’ll be ok. This is just.. a-a temporary!.. setback!”

-

The memory sets an angry fire within Tails ablaze. This guy hurt his big brother. Sonic is strong. It takes a lot for him to show pain outwardly. And this guy.. the Ultimate Lifeform, made Sonic hurt so bad he came home barely able to speak more than a sentence at a time.

He stands up.

Tails’ tails swish sharply. He feels some static around him, then the boost of chaos. Around his body, yellow chaos energy crackles along his fur. His eyes turn a bright shade of yellow. Tails seems to notice, but decides not to take long to address it now- balling his fists once more, allowing the strength of chaos to freely flow around him. Shadow has a look of slight surprise then lunges at him. Tails’ attempt to dodge doesn’t work this time, and he takes a low kick to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and his body slams against a cart. Tails shakes it off, the adrenaline dealing with the pain, and shoves the cart at Shadow to slow him down. Tails leaps into the air, taking Shadow by the arm along with him. He hoists him up, and uses a flurry of kicks to the torso to keep Shadow up, then swings his tails down to slam Shadow back down to the ground. The room shakes, Shadow now lies in a small crater. Tails finds it in him to smile. He just did that!!! Knuckles’ training is really paying off!

Shadows not done yet. He rises from the crater. Tails returns to the ground. He tries to hit him more, but Shadow keeps dodging him. There’s a scuffle of fists and kicks thrown back and forth. Shadow grumbles something about beginners luck then grabs Tails by his neck. Tails starts clawing at Shadows hand.

Shadow has some thoughts.

He could kill him.

He could snap this kids neck right now.

He could choke him to death.

They’d never find the body.

His parents would never have to bury their child, but be forced to wonder for the rest of their lives where their baby was.

His brothers would no doubt come looking for him with vengeance.

As great as that all sounds, killing a child is not what Shadow wants to do. Maybe that’s what Robotnik wants, but not Shadow.

Shadow locks eyes with Tails’, whose eyes are slowly returning to their original blue colour. Shadow throws Tails where he had found him, breaking the surrounding cabinets and shelves at Tails’ impact. Tails feels his consciousness fading in and out as he takes deep breaths to recover. His hand digs around behind him, not minding anything sharp that could possibly hurt him. He grabs Sonics quill from its place in the rubble. He clutches it in his fists.

The energy feels like a power up from a video game. Utilizing his own power and the power within his brothers quill, he dashes forward in a spin dash, knocking Shadow off of his feet and into the large monitor set. Glass shatters everywhere. Tails leaps back to avoid it. Tails can hear two pairs of footsteps running toward the room. Tails looks around in a panic. All this broken stuff.. then bingo! A green chaos emerald! He grabs it and stuffs his Miles Electric and Sonics quill into his backpack.

Tails holds the chaos emerald, now fully panicking. How does this work again???

He takes a deep breath.

“CHAOS CONTROL!”

. . .

Back at the Wachowski house, things were tense. Sonics injured, Knuckles is angry, and everyone is worried sick about Tails who walked out just little over an hour ago when they weren’t watching.

“Thank you..” Tom hangs up his phone “Wade says he’ll spread the word to surrounding counties and cities.”

“Oh, Tom.. I hope he’s ok.” Maddie wipes some tears from her eyes. Tom hugs her “we’ll find him, Maddie. Promise.”

Sonic blames himself. Had he been smarter and not let his ass get handed to him and get injured, Tails wouldn’t had felt compelled to leave.

Knuckles also blames himself. He wishes he had stepped in sooner. He wishes he had kept a closer eye on Tails.

Ozzy struggles to bring back the happiness to his people. His tail wags lowly and slowly as he goes to sit by Sonic and Knuckles for pats.

A bright light fills the room. When the light fades, Tails is standing there. Tails feels like he can finally breathe again, “it worked-! IT ACTUALLY WORKED!!” He holds up the emerald. Then he realizes his family. They all stare at him with wide eyes before smothering him in a group hug.

“Where were you?!” Cries Maddie, her tears now of relief.

“You had us worried sick, Tails!” Tom is so happy his boy is home.

“Tails, I’m so sorry..” Sonic whimpers, hugging his brother the tightest.

Tails shifts his gaze to the hedgehog “wait, what are you apologizing for?”

Sonic looks at him, now confused, “didn’t you leave because of stress or because you’re angry I got hurt?”

Tails raises his hands in a ‘so-so’ manner “I’m angry you got hurt, but I’m not angry AT you. I left to gather intel!” Tails pulls out his M.E. And shows the pictures he had taken of the computer screens. Sonic blinks in shock.

Knuckles asks the bigger question “did- did you just use.. chaos control? Where did you find that chaos emerald?”

Tails laughs sheepishly “yea.. uh… so. I found Robotniks lair.. and I. Maaaaaybe snuck in?”

“WHAT?!” The family all says together.

Knuckles’ expression turns to horror “TAILS YOU COULDVE GOTTEN KILLED!! Why did you go alone?!” His booming voice makes the room shake.

“B-because-! I dunno..”

“What do you mean ‘I dunno’? Tails, you know how dangerous that man is.” Maddie continues to hold her son.

Tails avoids eye contact with everyone else “he didn’t find me.. but Shadow did.”

Maddie starts immediately checking him over for any injuries. She finds some spots that could become bruises, but nothing major.

“M-maybe he held back?” Sonic says hopefully. Shadow has been quite a pain.

Tails makes a face. Should he tell them?

It’s Tom’s turn to look afraid “why are you making that face?”

“He didn’t hold back.”

“Pardon?”

“Holding me up by my neck isn’t holding back.”

Silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

Tails continues “he found me.. and held me up by my Tails, so I kicked him in the face.. it’s my first time in a real hand to hand fight! And.. it really hurt. It sucked, even. I didn’t have time to think, he moves so fast! Then something weird happened- y’know that thing Sonic and Knuckles do that kinda looks like electricity? That happened to me! I had the upper hand for a second! And! I had the high ground. So I brought him higher, then much lower. It was so scary.. but so empowering! It felt like I had enough energy to power the town!”

“You.. beat.. him?” Is all Sonic can ask at this point.

Tails looks down “when he had me by the neck, I think it was then he held back, in the middle of that. He coulda killed me.. but he chose not to for whatever reason. He threw me instead.. and I found this!” He pulls Sonics quill out of his backpack and hands it to his brother.

Sonic blinks “my.. my quill? He still had it?”

Tails nods “Mhm. That quill brought back the energy I had lost. So I ran at him. Things got real dizzy. And then he slammed against the computer wall. Then I heard people coming so I shoved everything in my bag and chaos controlled back here!”

Knuckles can’t hide the fact he’s impressed. He has no reason to doubt Tails. He pats his little brother on the back “sounds like my training was of good use to you.”

Tails smiles “sure was!!”

Everyone is so happy he’s ok. Tails gets to pick what to have for dinner to celebrate his victory!

. . .

Robotnik and Stone appear at the scene. Shadow drops to the floor and groans in pain. Stone rushes to his aid “Shadow, what happened? Can you stand?” Shadow shakily lifts himself to stand up. Robotnik boots up emergency monitors and pulls up security footage. Nothing in the corridors as of recent going in or out besides him, Shadow, and Stone. Then he pulls up the recorded footage from the room they’re in.

“A-ha! Found you, little one..~” Robotnik chuckles as he brings up the footage of Tails sneaking around in the room. Stone joins his side. Together they watch the recording of the fight. Robotnik narrows his eyes. "you let the child beat you?" he slowly turns to face Shadow who only says "he is a lot stronger than we thought. His strength, speed, and intelligence is something we need to keep tabs on."

The other two nod.

Stone gets to repairing the damages “he took Sonics quill and the chaos emerald. Should we retrieve them?”

“No,” Robotnik says “they’ll know we’re coming now. Let’s wait until our next encounter.. then we can get him and our belongings. That sly thieving fox won’t know what hit him.”

Thus begins the planning.. revenge is a fools game, and nobody here is foolish. The only one foolish is the fox who thought he could get away.

[superm4ks]

M [max/charles] on ao3 | re-published 2024-02-26

relationship study, unreliable timeline, unreliable narrator, time skips, reckless driving, unhealthy relationships, 2023 szn compliant, ‘something’s cosmic’ by angel Olsen 🔭🔮

before we draw

Need has a strange grip on him lately. Need filters through everything else, slips through the cracks and fills him up to the brim. It doesn’t spill, though, not until he has Max’s hands on him. It’s Max’s permission that he seeks, the wet glide of his lips and the press of his body, all-encompassing and hurried but also disciplined. Thorough. No need to rush. Rushing is for the gokart tires burnt down to the rubber and rain splatters on foggy lids that don’t close so well. Faulty equipment given to children who wanted to see death and more often than not, did. That was the time for rushing. If you’d ask Charles, his time is running out. He’s on a schedule, still, while Max collects what he calls 'bonuses'. No, Max has no need to rush. Outside the track, Max only chases what he wants. He never races, either. He chases right up until Charles realizes it’s futile to pretend he hasn’t been looking over his shoulder expecting to find him there. Then, they make a conscious bargain of mutually assured destruction. They draw. Need spills. And takes everything else with it. A great flood. 

Charles is walking home, or trying to, anyway, stumbling through narrow, dimly lit streets that he knows to be empty at that hour of the night, drunk and moody and overall a bit of a pitiful sight. He’s going on an adventure. Sometimes he gets into these funks, especially in Monaco. The music becomes too loud, and the arm around his waist isn’t welcome anymore, the smell of hard liquor is nauseating, and he wants to slap the vape out of his friend’s mouth and step on it.

He’s not a dramatic person. Not really. The solution to this is usually simple. He leaves, alone, or asks his girlfriend to go home with him. Tonight, he’s alone.

He hears the Porsche before he sees it, the engine’s sweet, gentle purr slow to a stop next to him, terrible EDM blasting from inside, before the window rolls down and Max wolf-whistles from the driver's seat.

“Oh my goodness, it’s Charles Leclerc.” He mocks, high-pitched and annoying. Then he laughs. There’s no one else in the car with him. He’s in boxer briefs, his shirt is on backwards, and his hair looks like it’s been tugged at. Charles wants to climb inside and check if his thighs are as warm as they look. They look warmer than his face feels. He settles for a smile. 

“Hello. How are you?”

Max’s grin grows like Charles said something funny. “I’m fantastic, man. It’s a lovely night.” Charles leans against the Porsche door, even though that’s rude, it’s a Porsche, and finally catches the haziness in Max’s eyes, his full blown pupils and bitten lips, gooey almost, slick with spit. Someone’s been kissing him, blowing smoke into his lungs. Charles licks his own, slowly, and Max’s hands squeeze around the steering wheel. Max is on an adventure, too. Charles has half a mind to make him chase tonight. 

“Not so lovely for me.” He comments. “See, I’m too hot, mate. Too fucking hot." 

“Ah, yeah. You need a ride home? It’s not a problem.” He says. Charles almost rolls his eyes. Easy come. Hard go.

Then, again, they’re the same.

“No, not home.” He says, affronted, almost. Charles looks across the street, checks both ends. He drops into the passenger seat like he’s done it a hundred times before. If he shuts the door too hard, Max doesn’t mind. He seems happy enough that Charles cut their little ritual short. It hasn’t even been that long. Max should count his lucky stars. God knows he’s got plenty. “Alright, then, drive me somewhere, racing driver.” Charles says. He meets Max’s hooded eyes with his own, faux-wide ones. “Oh, Max. Max, I know. Let’s do La Corniche. Whichever you prefer. You know what I mean, yes? Like, route nationale, by the sea. It's so pretty at night." 

Max takes a deep breath. “Yes, I know. I do live here.” Charles looks back outside so he can hide his smile.

“Oh, really? Sorry. We barely see each other."

“Monaco is such a big town, mate, 's easy to miss.” Max says under his breath. He fiddles with the radio for a bit, picks another playlist, a dirtier, matured selection, and lowers the volume, like Charles doesn’t know what he’s up to. Max does certain things, to focus. To calibrate, not just his car, but Charles, too, like an engineer. Rile him up, drag him back down. “You look nice, by the way.” Max adds, nonchalantly. He lays one hand on the back of Charles' neck and squeezes. “‘had fun? Where did you go?”

Charles hiccups on a breathless little laugh, and then another, louder one. He is sticky, red and disheveled. His hair is a mess. But Max has jerked off watching him wash yellow puke off his sleeves in a dirty bathroom sink. He’s seen Charles after maman got too bold with her scissors and ran his fingers through his hair with a stupid look on his face. Max is the easiest hookup of his life. And the most complicated. “Oh, you wouldn’t know the place. Max. La Grand Corniche, then. Allez.” Charles says, instead of, you’re so sweet. Don’t bother.

He’s not a dramatic person.

Once upon a time, he didn’t think about Max’s hands at all. Definitely not the way he does now, how they look on the steering wheel of a sports car, how they feel, inside him, barely outside, inside again, wet, dry, wrapped around his cock, covered with tape, and the marks they leave behind, the weight they carry, hours later, when Max is gone but Charles isn’t, and nothing lingers quite like being held by someone who could break him, and never does. Never rushes. Takes his time. A racing driver who takes his time. 

•••

Go karts are quiet before the start. Charles only qualified below third a handful of times, and one of those times, Max didn’t beat his lap, either. It wasn’t often that they were next to each other. Behind each other, in front of each other, but it was strange, and startling, to glance at the space to his right and find Max’s head already turned in his direction. Waiting.

Max held up his glove, and Charles watched as he brought his hand up to his own helmet and tapped on it, twice. Charles mirrored him, instinctively, and realized he’d forgotten to shut his visor.

He flickered it closed. There was a hint of something scary, there, something reckless, and oddly satisfying. Kind of like standing too close to open flame. Flame that you own, that belongs to you. Flame you can lick off skin, and spit down a cupid's bow.  A Strange feeling. It'll pass. They raced. Poorly, by all accounts. Charles isn’t sure who won that time, if they finished the circuit at all.

Some weekends it only took seeing the CRG motorhome to get a twitch in his jaw. It'll pass. 

He could find out, if he wanted, about their gokart classifications. Maman kept all his karting notebooks, even the stupid Spiderman ones. He hopes Max never asks to see those, although they’ve spoken about it. Max has vivid memories of Charles sitting next to his father in snack bars all over Europe, scribbling away after races. He told Charles he thought it was ‘impressive’ for a kid to have such an analytical mind. Charles was writing mean things about him. Whole pages. Sometimes racing had nothing to do with it. Just fucking mean shit. Big lips. Gay. Gay hands. My friends think you’re a cocksucker. I agree. If Max ever reads those pages--Charles doesn't know what he'd do. Max is a stranger he knows all too well. For a long time Charles made the mistake of underestimating just how fucking crazy Jos Verstappen's son was. Jos Verstappen's son would skim through Charles' Spiderman notebooks and sigh and purse his lips. Those fucking lips of his.

They’re adults now. Max chased to claim and he claimed Charles the moment they met. Why he still bothers to chase him, Charles doesn't know.

A week after the tournament, back in Monaco, Charles noticed a tiny crack on his practice helmet. He tapped on it with his finger. His heart beat faster, and he tapped on it again. He flickered his visor shut, then opened it once more.

It didn’t pass.

•••

Charles puts his head out of the window, then his shoulders and finally his waist. He holds onto the roof of the car for balance and keeps one leg hooked under the seat, just in case. He’s not that drunk anymore.

Warm air hits his face, thick and suffocating like the blow of an exhaust pipe. Max says something, probably a little annoyed, get down, but Charles isn’t listening. He takes a deep breath and screams, hard enough to make his throat hurt, “Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck you. Que veux-tu de moi? “His voice breaks. Charles heaves, laughs, tries again. “Fuck you.”

He gets no answer, nothing but the quiet echo of the night, the infinite stretch of the sea, a platform of darkness held suspended in some planet, of some universe, that is both uncaring as it is merciless. Charles hits the roof with a closed fist. “You see?” He yells. “You see what I get, Max? I get nothing.”

He tries to breathe in some fresh air, catch some of the cooler breeze. No relief. It’s too warm.

The car is too fucking warm when he slides back inside.

He slumps down on his seat with sweat pouring down his back, his shorts rucked up into the crease of his thighs. He spreads his legs under the glove box, arches his spine against the sticky leather, panting. He puts his hand on the ventilators and feels nothing. The AC isn’t on. Why the hell isn’t the AC on? Max is a fucking furnace.

“Can you, sweetheart, please—can you turn on the air conditioner? I’m begging you.” Charles heaves. He reaches for the touch screen and Max lets go of the handbrake to grab his wrist and hold it still. Max isn’t looking at him. His eyes are glued to the road, red but still watchful. Charles’ panic morphs into an urge of a different kind. Ah, but that is what he came for. That unshakable focus. All to himself.

“It’s on. 'have to wait a bit, yeah.” Max says, voice curt. He blows out a breath and adds, "You could've fucking dented my car, mate." 

“Aw, but it's too hot. I'm not thinking right. Look. Regarde moi, putain." 

Max huffs, drags a hand across his face. He looks at Charles, finally, and smiles. “I am. I like you like this.” Charles purses his lips and pretends that doesn’t make him blush.

His heartbeat quickens, still, as Max’s foot gets heavier on the pedal. They go faster on the straight. His stomach drops to his gut. “You're not angry?" He leans in to kiss the corner of Max’s lips again, but Max tilts his head. It catches him off-guard, and his heart soars. He makes a noise that Max definitely hears over the music and he doesn’t care.

Every time they kiss Charles forgets himself. It’s never like that, with other people. He's addicted to it, the ease with which they fall into each other. The way Max's spit coats his tongue and his lips, and when they part for air he takes Charles’ weight over the console and lets Charles hide his face in the curve of his shoulder. He lets Charles touch his waist, his stomach, his chest, every part of him he can reach, even the dampness under his arms. Max keeps dragging his hand over Charles' back, up and down, and it’s grounding and exhilarating all at once.

Charles does have a setup. And Max knows his setups. 

•••

The last time they slept together, Max left his phone behind in Charles’ living room, and Charles tiptoed into his apartment hallway and waited for the elevator to come back up. Max stumbled out of the cabin with the grace of a baby giraffe, face tired, usual spit-bitten smile, oh, Jesus, thank you, my fucking car told me, mate, because like, it didn’t connect to the blueftooh, and Charles almost asked him to stay. Almost. He thinks he might, one day. It feels that way, like they’re building into something truly terrifying. And when Charles does ask him, stay, and Max says no, because he has a family, and Charles has a girlfriend—then maybe that’s when it finally ends. Chase over. Nothing more to offer. 

Or maybe Max says yes. He stays. And saying yes would mean something like, I’ll keep chasing you for as long as you'll let me. I’ll chase you forever. In Monza, in a red racing suit, what could that possibly fucking mean? Jos Verstappen' son, what could he possibly fucking mean?

Charles likes to pull things apart so he can put them back together. Like puzzle pieces. Max’s piece never fits because the whole point is to build around him.

•••

It’s late. He’s in a funk. Max has terrible taste in music.

Charles buries his hand between Max’s thighs and squeezes Max’s cock through his briefs “You should probably stop the car.” He whispers in Max’s ear.

The breaks screech with a sharp turn of the wheel and the car comes to a sudden halt on the side of the road. The world tilts, spins, then freezes. He fucking drifted, the asshole. Max turns the engine off, and the radio goes with it. He keeps the headlights on, though. Red and blue beacons in the dark, pointed at the ocean right below.

The cliffs are empty. He starts shimmying out of his gross shorts, max starts tugging his own shirt over his neck, and there’s nothing in this world that could stop them from coming together tonight. Nothing. Charles knows that, even if nothing else. It’s the only truth he knows, has known, since he was a kid with an open lid and Max signaled him to flick it shut. Max lowers back Charles’ seat without much finesse and Charles opens his legs to accommodate him. It's a Porsche, not a truck. He doesn't fit. But he's Max. That's not his problem. 

•••

It didn't pass.