#he's got the whole fallen star thing going on

[anisohtropy]

actually I don’t think we’re processing how good a howls moving castle AU would fit Kavetham. a romance in the midst of political conflict? Kaveh being a dramatic, self destructive blonde? Haitham’s gray/white hair and simple life that is disrupted by the aforementioned blonde and a political conflict? annoyances to friends to lovers? THE THEME OF DESTINY?

[ghostofskywalker]

Tabloid Buzz

Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader

Fictober 2024 Day 20 of 31

Words: 1,082

Summary: The rest of the Avengers like to tease Natasha about her (extremely obvious) crush on one of the biggest pop stars of the day. She just lets it happen, because they don't actually know the whole story.

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

The sound of a trashy gossip talk show was playing on the TV when Natasha stepped into the communal kitchen, and she just rolled her eyes as she registered the topic of discussion. Of course all her friends’ eyes were going to be on her now, no matter what she did to try and get them to give the topic a rest. 

“Pop sensation Y/N L/N has secured herself the number 1 spot this week once again for her newest album, and all eyes have been on the singer in recent weeks. Despite the outwardly dark album imagery, this album hints at a new presence in her life, as evidenced by songs like “All I Wanted” and “Head In The Clouds.�� Fans have been ravenous to know more, and are hoping that the upcoming Grammy awards will be a chance for Y/N to show off the person who’s got her so smitten. Even the title track…”

 Natasha rolled her eyes as she pointedly ignored the television and began to pour herself a cup of coffee. However, Tony  was apparently not going to let this go. “It seems you’ve missed your chance with your celebrity crush Romanoff,” he said, a teasing smile on his face. 

“You do know what a celebrity crush is, right?” she asked, smiling as she watched Steve try not to laugh out of the corner of her eye. “It’s usually someone you never had a chance with in the first place.” 

“For normal people maybe,” Tony responded, taking a sip from the mug in front of him. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Natasha said. “Besides, half the people in this room also have a crush on her.”

The quiet bustle of a busy morning stopped for a moment, and the look on Natasha’s face almost challenged someone to speak up and disagree with her statement. She knew she was right about it though, because between her, Sam, Wanda, and Clint (even thought the latter wouldn’t admit it) there was a startlingly large amount of your merchandise in the compound. The four of them had sat in the living room last year with every set of eyes glued to the TV as you crossed the red carpet at one of the many award shows, in an outfit that had made Natasha drool a little (which thankfully, no one else had noticed). 

“Besides,” Natasha said, not really thinking before she spoke. “How do you know it wasn’t me who inspired this new album?” 

That statement got the desired effect, and the kitchen was suddenly full of laughter, pushing away the silence that had ruled it seconds before. “That’s good!” Tony said, almost spitting out the sip of coffee he had just taken. “Romanoff, sometimes I forget how funny you are.” 

The conversation shifted quickly after Tony’s comment, as different people in the room had to head off off to their meetings and missions for the day, and Natasha just smiled, content in knowing that there was so much that her teammates didn’t know. 

Her phone buzzed right as the last person left the kitchen, and she couldn’t help but smile at the text that lit up her screen, from a contact labeled with your name and the heart emoji in your favorite color. Good morning love, it read. Are we still on for date night later? 

Of course, Natasha texted back. I’ll pick you up at 8 <3

***

She had been doing well, hiding her budding relationship with you from the rest of her teammates, but her inevitable downfall came when she decided to sneak you into the compound one day when everyone else was away. In her defense, the various assignments, missions, meetings, and conventions that the rest of her team were on had a return date two days in the future, and these things never ended on time. She supposed it was just her luck that this time things would be different. 

The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch, with the various half-eaten snacks you had enjoyed left on the coffee table (it was fine, they were tomorrow’s problem). When Natasha opened her eyes, she could see the clock across the room read 2 AM, and your head was resting on her shoulder. The simple sweats you were wearing were completely different than the glittering ensembles you wore on stage and at events, but you looked just as beautiful now as you did when she first saw you. 

Her plan to fall back asleep was interrupted by the sound of the living room door opening, and Natasha’s eyes widened as she realized that someone must have come back early. There was no time to sneak you into her room, and she doubted that whoever had just walked in would simply not look in her direction, as the TV was still playing in the background. 

Natasha turned her head right as Steve stepped into view, and immediately he raised his eyebrows at her. She wasn’t sure if he realized who was currently snoozing on the couch next to her, but she was not about to ask that question. 

The look on her face was something between a plea for him to keep quiet and embarrassment that this even happened in the first place, but she trusted Steve. No words were exchanged in the moment, but an agreement was still made. 

She could hear him in the kitchen filling up a glass of water, and her phone buzzed with a text. No one else is supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon, it read. If you need any help sneaking her out, let me know. 

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, sending a thank you text in response, along with a promise to let him know if she needed him to run interference. Yes, she would have to tell everyone about this eventually, but she wanted a little more time to bask in the glow of her new relationship, and maybe even shock them by accompanying you to an event or awards show (since they seemed so dead set on teasing her about her feelings). 

Her phone buzzed once more, and this time the text contained a link to one of the music videos from your newest album, titled “Only For You.” I guess we know who her muse is now, The message read. Natasha playfully rolled her eyes, but didn’t really bite back. She probably would have done the same thing for him anyway. 

- the end -

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[reaping-the-benefits]

Part 1

Part 2 to my omegaverse au

MDNI!!!! Content warning: omegaverse, alpha Simon, omega reader, mentions of knotting and cock-warming, p in v, reader has a vagina, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), return of the shitty ex (sorry if your name is Devin)

Your heat ends three days sooner than you had expected. Maybe it’s because you finally have an alpha to help take care of it. Maybe you’re pregnant. Who knows? These are thoughts for later. Right now, you’re just ecstatic to have an alpha, especially one as wonderful as Simon.

Speaking of the devil…

Simon groans softly, rocking his hips into yours. “What’s got you squeezin’ like that?” he mumbles into your ear, still a little groggy from sleep.

You must’ve fallen asleep last night with his knot still inside you, cockwarming him all night. The thought must make you clench around him again, because Simon’s groaning into your ear, rolling you onto your stomach. 

“Hips up, love,” he commands. He doesn’t wait for you to follow the demand, already lifting your hips and shoving a pillow underneath them. 

The pillow really doesn’t help much when Simon presses his body against yours, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. His thrusts are slow, almost lazy, as if he’s got all the time in the world. Between his weight on top of you, and his cock rearranging your insides, it’s almost impossible to get out anything besides a whiney moan, struggling to get any air into your lungs. It makes your head spin, and Simon groans in your ear, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to trail kisses along your bare skin.

“Needy fuckin’ thing, ain’t ya?” he groans into your ear, his hips gradually picking up the pace. “Kept you full all night, and it still wasn’t enough.”

You whine in response, trying to push your hips back against his. You dig your hands into the sheets, hoping to find some leverage to help you, but Simon tuts softly, leaning back onto his knees. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand, twisting your arms back. The new position makes you arch your back, face pressed into the sheets. It also gives Simon a better angle to drive himself into you, each thrust hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“S-simon,” you stutter out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. The pleasure is so good, the kind that has your toes curling, and that all too familiar feeling builds up in your abdomen. 

Simon’s free hand snakes around your waist, the touch almost scorching as it trails down your stomach and between your thighs. You must still be sensitive from the previous night, because he just barely swipes his fingers over your clit and you’re cumming, pussy clamping down on his cock. Your whole body shakes, vision blank for a moment as you cry into the sheets.

Simon doesn’t slow down, hips rocking into yours, fucking you through your orgasm and into his own. His thrusting gets sloppy, until he lets go of your hands to drape himself over your back, his face buried into the crook of your neck once more, letting out a rough groan as his hips finally still, shooting his load into you.

It takes both of you a second to come down from that wonderful little high, chests heaving. Simon peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders, nipping teasingly across your bare shoulders. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he murmurs into your skin. 

You can’t help the whine that you let you, when he slips out of you. There’s an ache in your hips, one that’s been building up over the last few days. Simon just huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss between your shoulders before he leaves the bed.

He comes back a few minutes later with a towel, murmuring soft apologies as he carefully cleans you up. One hand gently rubs over your hips, and you scrunch your face up for a moment, muttering out, “You’re too fucking big, Si.”

“Don’t remember you complain’ yesterday,” he huffs out in response, but there’s amusement in his voice, and it makes you smile in response. “Think you can get up?”

You flop onto your back, eyes narrowing as you think about it for a moment. Technically, yes, you probably could. But walking is a whole different task, and with the ache in your hips and the jelly feeling in your legs, you highly doubt you’d make it out of the bedroom.

“Mmm… no. Carry me?”

Simon rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed with the request. But there’s no hiding the smug feeling in his chest, the smirk on his lips, when he scoops you out of the bed, carrying you bridal style out of the bedroom.

***

You’re in a good mood, as you step out of the apartment, wearing shorts and one of Simon’s shirts. It hangs loose on you, one shoulder visible as the neckline keeps trying to slip off. You have no idea how these shirts always look so tight on Simon, but are so loose on you. 

You had been planning on going to the mailroom. A plan short lived, because your ex is stepping out of his apartment at the same time. You hadn’t really thought about Devin over the last week, far too occupied with your heat and Simon. And Simon’s hands, and tongue, and… well, you get the idea.

Devin stares at you, his eyes narrow for a moment. You can practically feel his gaze, as you turn, still planning on heading to the mailroom. Subconsciously, you pick up the pace, trying to get away from him as quickly as possible.

But Devin’s taller, and he easily catches up to you.

“What? No hello?” he asks, grabbing onto your arm to stop you.

You yank your arm away from him, hissing as if his touch physically pains you. There’s nothing you have to say to him, nothing meaningful at least. Really, if it were up to you, you’d never speak to your ex again. He’d been demeaning your entire relationship, and you had been ready to leave far earlier than now.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you reply curtly.

Devin steps closer to you, a dark look flashing on his face. “Is that any way to speak to your alpha?” he growls at you.

“You’re not my alpha,” you spit back.

Devin snarls, reaching out for you, but he hesitates, his eyes drawn to your neck. To your bond mark. Something akin to anger flashes across his face, and he hisses at you, “Are you fucking kidding me? I knew you were fucking cheating on me, you little-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. Not when Simon scruffs him like a kitten, yanking him back by the back of his shirt. While your ex had been tall, Simon is practically a giant, towering over Devin with a dark look on his face. Simon leans down to snarl something into Devin’s ear, too quiet for you to hear. But based on the fear on Devin’s face, it’s probably a threat. 

Simon shoves him away, sends him stumbling off down the hallway, back to his own apartment, before turning his attention to you. You’d just watch him get aggressive, but he’s so gentle with you, hands reaching out to cradle your face.

“You okay, lovie?” Simon asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nuzzle your face into his hands, smiling sweetly. Maybe you should be a little scared, with how easy it was for Simon to manhandle another person around. But you’re not scared of Simon, not when he looks at you with such a softness in his eyes.

“I’m okay.”

He nods, hands dropping away from your face, only for him to wrap an arm around you, tugging you closer to him. “Where we going?”

“To check the mail,” you reply, letting him tuck you into his side, feeling safe and sound.

[writerbuddha]

"All these years Ben has been waiting for Luke to come of age so that he can become a Jedi and redeem his father."

"The part I am working on now is mostly about Darth Vader, who he is, where he came from, how he became Luke and Leia's father, what his relationship to Ben is. In Jedi the film is really about the redemption of this fallen angel. Ben is the fitting good angel, and Vader is the bad angel who started off good. All these years Ben has been waiting for Luke to come of age so that he can become a Jedi and redeem his father. That's what Ben has been doing, but you don't know this in the first film." - George Lucas in Star Wars: The Annotated Screenplays

“A Jedi can’t kill for the sake of killing. The mission isn’t for Luke to go out and kill his father and get rid of him. The issue is, if he confronts his father again, he may, in defending himself, have to kill him, because his father will try to kill him.” - George Lucas, 1981 story conference, from The Making of Return of the Jedi

"[Obi-Wan] knows that, eventually, Darth Vader is going to come looking for them. He knows this whole thing is going to blow up into a big war. He knows a confrontation is brewing between Luke and his father. Ben hopes Luke will either save his father or kill him, because whatever extra powers Luke’s got in his lineage, he is the one person that can probably fight his father and win." - George Lucas to Paul Duncan in Star Wars Archives

[patscorner]

kate fic idea ! okay so you and kate have been best friends since you can remember, but something happens around third grade were you had to move away. a few years later (towards college or so) you guys reconnect (bc yall decided to apply to the same college) then it ends up on them going on a date and kissing 🙏🏽

will do! 🫡

ALL OF THE ABOVE

Summary: You and Kate grew up together, but when you move across the country, you lose contact with her forever. Or so you think.

wc: 2,339 (she's a long one, buckle up folks)

Contains: mentions of alcohol, nothing...?

______________________________

For as long as you can remember, you have always had a best friend. Whether it was your first imaginary friend, your dog, or your brother. One of the most memorable of them all, though, was a short, dirty blonde girl in your third grade.

Kate was assigned as your table partner in art. Even as an eight-year-old, you knew she was the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. You both instantly clicked, bonding over favorite colors and working on your math problems together.

You both would play outside in recess together, swinging on the swings, or you’d play in the dirt while Kate played with a basketball. You guys were instantly each other’s ride or die, going to one another’s houses for sleepovers almost every weekend. Even throughout the seventh grade girl drama (canon event), and even after both of your friend groups crashed and burned, you two stood strong.

But sometimes things happen that you can’t control, like your parents separating in the middle of your eighth grade year. When you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your dad decided to return to his hometown and move across the country to Iowa, taking you and your brother with him.

You’ve never fought anything harder. You spent most of your time screaming at your dad and begging him to let you stay. When he kept refusing, you eventually accepted the fact that you were leaving. Leaving everything behind, your childhood home, your memories, your best friend.

At the time, the hardest thing you’d ever done was tell Kate you were leaving. You were in tears the whole time, even before you told her. She’d looked at you with worry and concern before embracing you, telling you that no matter what it was, she’d be there for you.

That’s the moment you knew you had fallen in love and that there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

After you told her, you both cried together, vowing to write everyday (this was before you guys owned phones), and promising to never forget each other.

And that’s exactly how it started out. You wrote to her everyday, filling her in on everything that was happening in your first year of high school. And she’d write back, telling you about how she made the basketball team.

But soon, she started getting busy with all the media attention on the sophomore star, and your letters every day turned into nothing at all. You kept writing to her, but you never got anything back, even after you told her you got a phone.

You figured it was because you both got busy, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that she didn’t write to you back. Eventually, you distracted yourself with finding your love for soccer and her, creating her future in women’s basketball.

You wouldn’t say you forgot her, because how could you? But you didn’t think about her much anymore, and she fell to the back of your mind. You’d moved on with your life, and you were certain she did, too.

Eventually, you graduated and got a full ride to the University of Iowa because of your amazing talent in soccer. Little did you know that a year later, so would Kate. Of course, hers was for basketball, but the same campus nonetheless.

You lay on your bed, watching old soccer highlights, trying to see if you could predict the plays and the fouls before they happen. You look up as you hear your dorm door open and watch as your two roommates drunkenly stumble in. One of your roommates, Sarah, fumbles with the keys before dropping them and leaning on your other roommate, Devon, doubling over in laughter. You roll your eyes and close your laptop. Guess we’re done with that for now.

“What happened to ‘not getting too drunk’?” You asked with raised eyebrows, helping Devon, who is much more drunk than Sarah, to the bed. She mumbles incoherent words, so you look up at Sarah to translate as you take Devon’s shoes off.

Sarah shrugged. “The football team showed up. They’re the life of the party.” She slurs the last bit and then covers her mouth before rushing to the bathroom.

You shake your head as you turn back to Devon, who’s staring down at you. “You’re hot as fuck.” she mumbles.

“You’re drunk, and you have a girlfriend.” You say. You’re far too familiar with Devon when she’s intoxicated. All she does is flirt with people, whether her girlfriend is in the room or not. Luckily, most people on the Iowa campus know her and who her girlfriend is, and they know to stay away, not engaging or encouraging any of her behavior.

“Cait is so annoying.” Devon whines. “She didn’t wanna come to the party with me.” she throws her head back on the pillows, flinging her legs on the bed when you finish taking her shoes off.

“Or.” You grab her a water bottle from the fridge before opening it and making your way back to her. “She has a game tomorrow and doesn’t wanna play hungover.”

You’d been to a couple of Caitlin’s games, and it’s even more amazing to watch her play in person (she’s also fine as hell, but you’d rather keep your life, so this one stays in your head). And with your brother being on the college baseball team, he’d go to many sports events, whether it be basketball, football, women’s basketball, or baseball itself.

Devon sighs before taking the water from you, practically drinking all of it before handing the mostly empty bottle back to you. You put a blanket over her before making your way to check on Sarah.

Opening the door, you notice that she’s taking her makeup off and her hair down. “Oh, shit, you’re all good then?” you say, surprised to see her standing. She turns to you and nods. “Unlike Ms girl in there, I can hold my liquor.” You laugh and turn to leave.

“Oh, you comin’ to the game tomorrow?” Sarah asked, turning to look at you. You sigh deeply before shaking your head. “Nah, I gotta study.”

“Bitch, you’ve studied for like three days, you’re gonna burn yourself out. You’re allowed a break.” Sarah says in a light-hearted manner but you can tell she wasn’t all the way kidding. She wasn’t all the way wrong either. You’d been studying relentlessly for a test in your business class, and gave yourself little room for a break.

“Come on, a small break isn’t gonna kill you.” Sarah persisted. You sigh defeatedly. “Fine.”

She grins widely, already planning outfits to put you in. You shake your head at her antics, when in reality, it was one of your favorite things about her.

Guess you're going to a game tomorrow.

Big mistake. You completely forgot that it was the first home game of the preseason, so the stadium was packed. The people looked like little bees, swarming around in their yellow and black jerseys.

But you and your roommates made sure to take shots before you left the apartment, so the alcohol eased your nerves a little. Since your brother was a baseball player and your roommates girlfriend was Caitlin fucking Clark, you guys had scored courtside seats, right behind the coaching staff.

You shuffle into the aisle, pulling your short black dress down as you settle in. You sit down, and turn your attention to the court. The teams are doing warm ups, and you watch as they do layups. One girl catches your eye, her dirty blonde hair tied back into her signature braid. She looks painfully familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it.

That is until she turns around to sit on the bench , and you get a good look at her last name.

Martin.

Your jaw drops in shock, as your brain tries to process all the emotions that hit you at once. On one hand, you’re pissed that she left you in the lurch, but on the other hand… she’s Kate, and Kate is your best friend, someone who you once didn’t think you could live without.

She’s sitting in front of you, conversing with Caitlin. You obviously couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you’re an expert at reading lips (thanks to your parents), and you make out the word ‘single’, to which Kate nods her head at.

For whatever reason, this made your heart tingle, hope flashing through your mind. Maybe things could go back to how they were.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Sarah nudging your shoulder. “Stop staring, girl, you’re gonna burn a hole into her head.” she teased. You bit your lip as your cheeks flushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mutter unconvincingly. You knew you weren’t being subtle, but at this point, you didn’t care. Your best friend, your first actual best friend, was seated no more than 15 feet in front of you.

Sarah rolls her eyes at your stubbornness. “C’mon bro, you're practically drooling.”

You shake your head. “I know her.” is all you say. Sarah shakes her head, giggling at your antics. “Yeah, everyone does. Her high school stats are off the charts.” You nod, although you’re not surprised. You’d watch Kate play in middle school, and she was a beast then, so you could only imagine what a powerhouse she was now.

And you were right. Kate and Caitlin dominated the entire game, piggy-backing off of each other, getting assist after assist. Whether it was Caitlin passing it behind-the-back to Kate, or Kate doing a no-look pass to Caitlin. The stadium was louder than you’ve ever heard it, most of the ruckus coming from the student section as they cheered on the freshman and their beloved Caitlin Clark.

The duo scored a total of 98 points together, and along with the rest of the team, Iowa won with 112 points, beating the opposing team by 67 points. The crowd storms the court, and you sit and watch as thousands of people in yellow and black attire swarm the players.

You and your roommates stay behind, as Devon waits for the people to clear out so she can hug her girlfriend. Eventually, most of the audience cleared out, only a couple of fans lingering. You take a deep breath as your roommates stand and make their way to Caitlin and Kate, who are laughing about something together.

Kate’s laughter is like music to your ears, a sound that almost makes you cry as an overwhelming amount of memories of hearing that beautiful noise every day swarm your brain.

You stand a little farther back as Devon goes up and hugs her girlfriend from behind, eliciting a yelp from a startled Caitlin. Caitlin turns around, hugging her girlfriend before kissing her passionately. You’d be disgusted, but you're far too distracted because at this point, the attention from Kate is on you.

You both stared at each other for a second before she spoke. “Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked. Her voice is just as amazing as you remembered it to be, only slightly deeper. You smiled nervously as you felt tears well in your eyes.

“I’d hope so. My brother used to drive to take us to the Phillips gas station, and you’d force him to buy you Skittles.” You smile as you watch her eyebrows furrow before they light up with excitement, just like they used to.

“No fucki-” she cuts herself off by jumping on you. Your hands go instinctively to catch her, hooking your hands under her thighs. Kate buries her face in your neck, squealing as she squeezes you as if you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I can’t believe…there’s- how are you here right now?” She asked as she pulled away from your neck. You’re still holding her, and you know for a fact that if you weren’t in shape, you’d be tired, but because of the workouts your coach has you doing, you’re able to hold her with ease.

“After the move, I got into soccer… it turns out I was pretty good, and they gave me a scholarship.” You say, looking up at her. She grins at you. “That’s amazing! After you stopped sending me letters, I assumed you had forgotten about me.”

Your eyebrows furrow at this. “Wait, what? No, I kept sending you stuff, I just stopped getting stuff back, so I just thought you got busy.”

She shakes her head. “I never got any of them.”

“Really?”

“Not one.”

You shake your head as you put her down. “I don’t know why, I wrote to you every day.” Her arms stayed around your neck as your hands navigated to her waist, resting there as you two looked at each other.

Kate bites her lips in thought but shakes her head, pulling you into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so happy you're here.” Your heart swells at this, hearing those words healed every single ounce of doubt about her that you’d ever had. She didn’t forget about you, she was in the same boat as you, waiting for a response. For years.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whisper, finally letting tears fall. Kate hears the way your voice shakes and pulls away. She looks at you with sympathy.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. You shake your head, shaking off her apology. “Not your fault.”

She smiles at you, and you're both looking in each other's eyes for a moment.

Everything freezes. This is the girl you grew up with. The girl who kicked the boy who purposely stepped on your brand new kicks with his muddy shoes. This was the girl who made fun of you for your shitty spelling, the girl who made you feel at home, even while yours was falling apart.

You look in her eyes and you realize home is not always a place. Sometimes home is a person.

Your rock. Your home. Your person.

And she is all of the above.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @breeloveschris

[discofama]

A Undertale/Hazbin Hotel AU I was keeping in my folders. I was waiting cause I wanted to draw other characters too but I got lazy.

Basically they take some of the roles in Undertale, but I've changed a lot of the implications to make it fit their characters.

Alastor would be the first monster Charlie encounters. He's a combination of Toriel and Flowey, acting friendly and fraternal but secretly plotting against Charlie about ways to get her soul, since he knows she can go back in time to save herself. He doesn't confine himself to the ruins, he'll follow Charlie through the whole underground, mysteriously appearing whenever she needs help.

Husk is more similar to Sans. He knows Alastor, they met at the door to the ruins, they're not friends tho. Still deciding if monsters in this AU make deals but you can assume Alastor has him threatened somehow and makes him work for him, since Husk has connections to the royal guard as a sentinel.

He lives in Snowdin and is neighbours with Angel Dust, the celebrity (not sure about making him a porn star here). They meet at the bar regularly and Angel always tries to flirt with him, to his annoyance. They become closer and Angel even gets him to do some magic shows at the Hotland hotel. The hotel belongs to the Vees and Angel would be under Valentino as his manager or something. The role of Mettaton is divided between the three Vees and Angel Dust as they use the fallen human to create clout in the media, though Angel also takes some things from Papyrus.

Sir Pentious is a lonely scientist like Alphys, obviously, and he's obsessed with making weapons for Cherri Bomb, a member of the royal guard (she'll change her mind and help Charlie btw). Romance muah muah muah blah blah blah.

Adam would be the leader of the royal guard. Nobody -besides his lieutenant- likes him, but his power and position is indisputable. Him and Lute hunt Charlie mercilessly to try and collect her soul.

Niffty is, like, around, idk. Maybe she lives with Alastor in the ruins and helps him.

Vaggie would be a monster kid being trained by Lute to become a royal guard too. She super gets along with Charlie, and you know the rest. I guess she would take some of Monster Kid's interactions.

About Lucifer and Lilith as the royalty and their relationship with Charlie... that's where it gets complicated. Can't unfold my ideas about it so if you think of anything share it!

[comradeocean]

"I have found myself talking out loud to you, hoping you can hear me" is a bonkers way for a celebrity to begin a public memorial statement less than 24 hrs after the death happened by someone who has possibly not personally spoken to the dead person in question for almost ten years. I cannot stop thinking about it.

In 2013, Channel 4 did a documentary called Crazy About One Direction that featured a number of high octane waaaay out there fans. I think the band was asked about it during an interview; Louis and the others basically disavowed it, saying it was an unfair representation of girls who like One Direction and the fanbase in general. He wasn't being totally selfless in sticking up for the fans, because some of those girls were profoundly sad and lonely, maybe unwell. And if your mission is to be marketed as a fun-loving carefree boyband, the last thing you'd want to be associated with are young, maladjusted, friendless girls.

Anyway, at one point, one of the girls interviewed says:

Twitter is like a prayer place. When you go to a prayer place, you feel like you’re connected to God. So when you’re on twitter, you feel like you’re connected to 1D. You just have hope. [audio description alt-text: an image of Louis as Jesus Christ]

Zayn is also the only one of the boys to have crossposted his message to twitter.

The thing about One Direction being an accident, sure, a manufactured accident, but an accident nonetheless, is that they were guileless going in, and it showed. I've been mainlining old videos this week, trying to compare those early xfactor days with their contemporaries who were trying to break out around the same time. With everyone else, it was always a band full of Liams: intensely driven little freaks. Sorry, freak is maybe too mean a word to describe that particular mix of hunger and desperation to be accomplished, to be famous, and at the bottom of it all: to be liked. There's been a conscious shaping of the persona in service of those goals: they've learned to dance, to perform, to give pitches, soundbites, hit camera marks on cue. Most of them were also older, in their early to mid twenties. It's not inconceivable to imagine such a trajectory for the most diehard theatre kid you knew from school who decided after uni or whatever ~ to follow their dreams ~. That was the more typical boyband background. (not Liam though. lad was fourteen. he was closer to another subspecies of the genus: the child star)

And 1D in contrast were unpracticed, unstudied, as Zayn put it in that slightly off-kilter way of his (which I always imagine to be indicative of a disjunction between the vocabulary one encounters in school and what everyone around them is used to speaking), "novice children."

Like, truly, they did not give a fuck cos it hadn't yet occurred to them they were supposed to. Liam aside, industry norms were a complete mystery to them, and for many years, they managed to inhabit that sweet spot of flippancy without contempt, whether it was about the project, themselves, or their audience. Liam tells the story about being the go-between for xfactor stylists and the boys and getting into so much trouble on their behalf for wearing human-sized babygrows during a video diary. "Because Westlife would never wear those." [The punchline he then delivers is that Westlife members were pictured wearing onesies soon after. (quite possibly due to how viral anything 1D-related got)]

The boys were so immature. The whole boyband thing had fallen into their laps. They were just happy to be there! This thing that they didn't even know they wanted, they somehow got, and it took the shape of four other boys in exactly the same situation. It comes across very strongly how taken they were with themselves and each other. Find yourself a guy who looks at you the way blah Larry Stylinson blah blah Ziam blah blah blah. Never mind that cos they were all actually so hyped with each other. Any time any of them says anything remotely clever, or funny, or notable, the rest of them lose their shit like they're in on the same hilarious joke. Even if there was no actual joke. Their entire existence at that point was the joke bc how on earth had they landed from where they'd been — small deadend towns hollowing out from deindustrialization — to where they ended up — the xfactor house headed for the very top about to win it all, in the way they did — saved from bootcamp elimination at the last minute, with who they did — four other working class boys they would have never been friends with in another life. It must have been a high like a kind of limerence, like finding long lost family members on the exact same wavelength, like love.

And that was the other key thing about the stratospheric rise of One Direction. We didn't love One Direction only because we loved this or that member. We loved them because they loved each other, because they loved themselves, because they loved us. And they used the internet to show it.

In 2010, mass social media platforms were in their nascence, which is to say, the exploration of how to be a person, with other people, online, at a broad level not limited to specific subcultures, was in its nascence. For many years now, given the levels of extreme over-exposure, the dominant mood has become the mortifying ordeal of being perceived and so on. We've somehow all adopted mini-celebrity mindsets of our own, weary of being exposed to the maw of an unseen public. To be known is to be surveilled.

But the boys individually and at the collective level invited surveillance back then. Because the inverse — to be surveilled is to be known — seemed more relevant for that moment, at the beginning. They made a point of living their newfound lives at least partially online.

They were constantly on twitter, they livestreamed with a dedication that rivaled x-factor video producers, and none more so than Liam. It was already reality tv, this was just the next bleeding edge of "real": the unfiltered, unedited, direct sharing of yourself and what you loved in the last days of the old free-as-in-freedom internet.

When they said, over and over again, that it was all about the fans, it was meant in a very literal sense. Social media and the reality it created produced a feedback loop between the love they had for each other and the band, and the love we had for them, until it was inseparable: their relationships, our relationships, the process itself. Parasociality as it is currently manifested might have found its first mass expression through One Direction.

In separate interviews from This is Us (2013) deleted scenes, Liam and Louis say that Zayn wears his heart on his sleeve. Yet within the best-friends-slash-brothers-for-life schema cultivated as the One Direction vibe, he did not seem necessarily exceptional in his frequent declarations of love and fellow-feeling for various band mates. What he did ultimately end up doing was pulling the trigger on the contractual form their relationships were bound within, such that the I-love-you's inevitably passed from unpracticed to rote to a mandatory matter of their livelihoods. Someone had to be the first to explicitly and consciously decide that this "love" was no longer something they could continue participating in.

From the same set of deleted interview, in a somewhat fitting twist of symmetry, Louis and Zayn go on and on (much longer than Niall or Harry) about how Liam had been the serious and sensible one, but they've managed to corrupt him a little. It makes sense to assume that Zayn is referring to the band in general, but one can also read it to mean the two of them specifically, being the eldest, and their meta-cognition of the terms and conditions imposed by One Direction as a phenomenon.

The love the members of One Direction had for each other and the band and the fans was undeniably "real." The making of that "realness" was conditioned by the x factor throwing together four boys who had very little reference for what the fuck they had gotten themselves into, and Liam. Liam was the intermediary. He was already a creature twisted up and contorting, trying his level best to wedge himself into whatever spaces there could be found in the juggernaut of the entertainment industry. His neuroses and anxieties made the rest of One Direction possible, made One Direction "real" and "not like the other boybands" because that DNA, that what-not-to-do instruction manual could just be crammed into him, and the rest of them could be let loose into the world, unburdened by expectation, free to not give a fuck.

Louis and Zayn's raw, unpolished, typo-ridden letters were the most direct and irrefutable way they knew to swear fidelity to the boy they knew, the band they built, and the lives they lived together. The unfathomable ether of the internet, of the fans, of the massed publics seen and unseen made them, it destroyed their senses of self in ways they could weather until they couldn't, and it's into this ether they send their words, their grief, something real of themselves. Because in the universe of One Direction, this is the orthopraxis by which one proclaims one's faith and one's hopes. This is the prayer place that transcends distance, time, even death. This is how their brother could somehow, some way, still feel their love.

[emphistic]

Greedy

A/N: requested by @charbunxxi — i did something a little different, lmk if you would rather me repost a more accurate version to your request

The first thing Sukuna thought about after getting off his shift was you. You were the only thing he thought of while working, too. And, on the drive home, he almost crashed his car due to the fact that you were the only thing on his mind.

Some might say he's obsessive. Some might say he's deranged. Some might say he's a man deserving of nothing.

But then there's you, who says he's just a man in love.

He's a man who makes you breakfast and coffee — the way you like it. He's a man who draws you baths and washes your hair. He's a man who carries your bags after having gone shopping — with his card, obviously. He's a man who arrives at the apartment and — even then, still looks for home. He's a man who looks for you.

However, this time — unlike all other times, after slipping off his footwear and coat, he is unable to find you.

Maybe you were taking a shower? No. Maybe you were watching TV in the living room? Nope. Maybe you were doing laundry? Not even close.

When Sukuna finally succeeded in his search for you in your shared bedroom, he facepalmed. "'m so fuckin' stupid," he grunts out, as he crawls into bed.

You had fallen asleep while trying — but failing — to stay up in order to greet Sukuna after he returned home from work; but, he had had a longer shift than usual, and forgot to tell you.

He didn't mean to wake you. After all, it's not his fault that your pet cat just had to let out the world's loudest meow, announcing his arrival.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whispered, glaring at the little nuisance laying in the bed, cuddled up in your loving arms. The loving arms where he should be, not some ugly, good-for-nothing feline.

"My bad, baby. Swear, didn't mean to wake you—" He goes in to place a kiss on your cheek, but you simultaneously swerve away from him.

"No," you softly whine, shoving your head into the pillow.

"The fuck you mean 'no'? You seriously gonna deprive me of my well deserved kiss? After working a twelve hour shift?"

"No kisses." You mumble, your voice muffled.

Sukuna blinked at you, once, twice, thrice, until he finally concluded that you weren't just fucking around with him, and you were actually denying him of something totally essential to his well-being.

How was he meant to go on without your kisses? How would he live, breathe, eat, sleep, without your affection?

He tried to remove you from the pillow, but you instantly shoved your face back. "Noo."

"Sweetheart, I love you, y'know that already. And I wouldn't force you to do anything against your will. But, you don't understand, baby. What you're doing is completely and utterly cruel. This is wrong, on so many levels." He tried, again, to peel your face away from the pillow. And he succeeded, this time. But this time, you had a nasty pout on your face.

"You wanna know what's cruel? The fact you haven't showered, and yet, still have the audacity to crawl into bed. I'll have you know, I just replaced the bedsheets, and now here you are — dirtying them up."

"Babe, please—" He started.

"You are stinking up the whole goddamn apartment, Sukuna."

"You don't gotta be this way. We can talk it out."

"Sukuna—"

"C'mon, pretty girl. Just one? For little ol' me?"

You grumbled, but complied, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, only one. But you have to take a shower after—mmph!"

Sukuna grabbed your face in his hands and tackled you down onto the bed, smashing his lips against yours so zealously that even the cat jumped out of your arms and off the bed.

-

It, indeed, was not just one kiss. But, it wasn't a total loss. Sukuna did end up taking that shower. And he gave you a reason to, as well.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

[st4rtar0t]

Some channeled songs for you from a loved one

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

These pictures do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners. I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

You are the innocent kid of the Pious God,

The dearest to his royalty…

Innocent kid of the Pious God,

You are his beloved child,

The worries that God has given,

He only will take them away.

The Girl has become like the Peepal (tree),

Everyone worships you,

But no one ever sows your seeds,

And no one can arrest you at home…

Treading the roads fearlessly,

She is akin to rain water,

When she comes near the real world,

She becomes a little dirty.

If you be the cash

I'll be the rubber band

You be the match

I will be a fuse, boom

Painter, baby, you could be the muse

I'm the reporter, baby, you could be the news

'Cause you're the cigarette and I'm the smoker

We raise a bet 'cause you're the joker

Checked off, you are the chalk

And I can be the blackboard

You can be the talk

And I can be the walk, yeah

Even when the sky comes falling

Even when the sun don't shine

I got faith in you and I

So put your pretty little hand in mine

Even when we're down to the wire, babe

Even when it's do or die

We could do it, baby, simple and plain

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Picture 2

My eyes choose only you, my eyes only listen to my heart.

He forgets the whole world and gets lost in thoughts of you.

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

When I see a shooting star I will pray for you.

I pray that when our bond is joined, it will never break.

I didn’t realize when night turned into morning.

Ever since you’ve been mine I’ve stopped noticing time.

I want to call you mine, I want to be with you.

I keep looking for an excuse to see you.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

You're so hypnotizing

Could you be the devil?

Could you be an angel?

Your touch, magnetizing

Feels like I am floating

Leaves my body glowing

They say, be afraid

You're not like the others

Futuristic lover

Different DNA

They don't understand you

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension

You open my eyes

And I'm ready to go

Lead me into the light

Picture 3

I will live by your name

I will die by your name

To be with you I can do anything for you

What you have done to me; The ego in me has died; been erased;

Yes, I have become

Yours, I have become mad for you

When the wildness of love crosses all the limits

The lovers hang themselves with smile

The magic of love overpowers the mind and proclaims

You may guard (the paths) but the lord will create a way

This is the will of love

This is the will of God

Without you, How can I live ?

Yes I know, this is the selfishness

I became crazy and play in all colors

I am innocent, mad and wild

I sing, I dance, I make everyone happy

Now I do not follow any religion or rules of society

Because I am mad and crazy in love

And if I may just take your breath away

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

The goosebumps start to raise

The minute that my left hand meets your waist

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour.

[cupidsarrcws]

fucking frat boy!patrick one night at one of the social mixers not knowing who he was <3

you weren’t apart of a sorority— your friend was and she practically begged you to come to one of the social mixers her sorority was throwing (one of her attempts of getting you to continue rush season).

you were in red dress, floor length and silky, with a champagne glass in your hand while you stood in the corner, watching as your friend talked with one of the frat guys who had wandered over to the two of you and dragged her away from the conversation.

that’s when patrick swooped in.

“i haven’t seen you around before, what sorority are you apart of?”

you looked around, almost confused as if he was talking to you or someone behind you. you blushed a bit when you realized no one was around, clearing your throat before speaking.

“uh, i’m not— i’m a plus one. for rachel,” you murmured, pointing out your friend who was giggling and talking across the room. “more like her keeper now, she told me not let her go home with any frat brothers so.”

this got a laugh out of patrick, which shouldn’t have set off the butterflies in your stomach but it did. you couldn’t deny that he was attractive either— he was wearing a light blue shirt, slightly unbuttoned to where you could see his star of david necklace, and slacks that made him seem taller than he actually was.

“i’d like to know the names of people before they start ogling me if that’s okay with you.”

his words pulled you out of your trance, your face flushing up in embarrassment as he chuckled at your demeanor. “i’m just joking with you, i enjoy the attention.”

“r-right,” you said before telling him your name, reaching out your hand for him to shake. he glances down at your hand before reaching forward, pushing a piece of your hand that had fallen behind your ear.

“i’m patrick, patrick zwieg.”

you don’t know how the conversation led to you being shoved up against the door of the broom closet, but all you could think of is how your legs were about to give out with how fast he was going.

“p-patrick,” you gasped, feeling his hand bunch up the front of your dress before placing his fingers over your clit, the groan he let out going straight into your ear.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he panted, driving his hips into yours at a pace where anyone who could walk outside could definitely hear what was going on. your soft moans and whimpers were only fueling him to go faster.

your back was arched against his, your face being smudged against the door as he pounded you into it. it was almost uncomfortable but hearing how his grunts went directly into your ear made the soreness you’d feel after worth it.

“f-fuck i’m close, i-im gonna cum!,” you whimpered loudly, feeling his other hand slap over your mouth.

“fuck— do it, cum all over my cock, wanna feel your tight fucking pussy squeeze around it,” he groaned. those words and the pressure from his fingers on your clit sent you right over the edge, feeling your whole body being covered in bliss.

you’re surprised that you didn’t collapse onto the floor with how much you were shaking, just babbling nonsense about how good he felt, thanking him for letting you cum on his cock— if you knew half of the shit you were saying, you’d die of embarrassment.

but patrick thought it was the hottest fucking thing he’s ever heard— immediately pulling out and cumming onto your ass.

you both panted heavily, bodies still close to one another as you recovered. you finally regained consciousness when you felt him wipe up his mess that he left on your body, turning your head to look at him.

you gulped softly, seeing his smirk as he got redressed. you looked around for your panties, furrowing your eyebrows when you couldn’t find them.

“i’ll give these back when the time comes,” he spoke, holding to your pair of black lacey panties in his hands, his smirk only growing wider when your face turned even more red.

he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, reveling in the soft moan he got from you before exiting the closet, leaving you with your thoughts.

“fuck me,” you muttered to yourself, leaving the broom closet just in time to run into your friend. her eyes were wide and her jaw was slightly gaped, causing you to look over yourself, thinking that your makeup was still smudged or that your hair was out of place.

“what?”

she didn’t give you any time to say anything else, grabbing your hand before taking you into the girls bathroom, making sure that no one else was in there.

“who were you with?”

your face heated up once again, gulping softly as you fidgeted with your hands. “look, i know what you said about fraternity guys but he was actually-“

your friend stopped you, holding up her hand. “i don’t care that you hooked up with a frat guy, i just care about who specifically.”

“his name was patrick, his name is zweig i think,” you shrugged, raising your eyebrows as your friend rubbed your face in frustration. “what is it rachel.”

“do you remember that guy that hooked up with tashi, my sorority president? how they dated for a while before it became a whole shit show? that he’s the biggest piece of shit and cannot be trusted?”

your stomach churned at where this was going. you heard about these stories from multiple people— hearing about how he slept with a lot of girls from the sorority, how he was an asshole— the whole spiel.

“that was patrick… and if im correct, that’s who walked out of the janitors closet a few minutes before you.”

fuck.

[holllandtrash]

last call | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

a one shot based on the song last call by jamie miller, i highly suggest listening to it 'Cause when it's last call I wanna be your first call I wanna be your ride home You're gonna be my downfall

word count: 7.4k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, alcohol consumption

Max Verstappen was a lot of things.

He was a world champion, for starters. A two-time world champion, a title he carried proudly. He was on his way to claim that title for the third time, but he didn’t let the arrogance or the ease of it get to his head, there was still work to do this season.

He was a son and a brother. He cared about his family more than the media would ever know, always painting him as some sort of villain on and off the track to which it got to the point that Max simply stopped trying to change people’s opinions. His family knew who he was, he didn’t need to make any adjustments for them.

He was a friend, and a damn good one if he said so himself. To be fair, it was difficult to see the mates he grew up with when his job took him around the world and back, but he never forgot his roots. He cherished any time he got to spend with those in his close circle. He had a rule too, no phones. If he was with his friends, nothing on his phone mattered. That was also why he was deemed ‘antisocial’ during any breaks, however long. God forbid he not take any photos of him having a good time to prove he knows how to have a good time.

Last but most certainly not least, on Friday and Saturday nights in Monaco, he was a chauffeur. 

Your chauffeur.

Neither of you were quite sure when this whole arrangement started, but did that really even matter?

Max pulled up alongside the curb of the club and sent you a text. A minute later you came walking out the doors, a grin plastered on your face as you said your goodbyes to your friends. 

As you walked around the front of the car, Max tried to not let his gaze linger on the way your skirt showcased the length of your legs and how in a matter of a seconds you’d be sitting next to him and he’d be thanking his lucky stars he drove a manual so he had a reason to keep his hand off of you.

You climbed into the passenger side of his car, the seat was already adjusted to your height. There was an unopened bottle of water in the cup holder. An artist you listened to was already quietly playing through the speakers. Even if Max didn’t get a heads up that you were going out tonight, he knew what to do when you called him.

He knew that if the seat was pushed back you would complain, jokingly. He knew that you’d ask if he had water somewhere in his car and he knew that you’d ask for help to connect your phone to Bluetooth, if it hadn’t already died. 

And while Max liked that routine, he also liked seeing your face light up when you realised you no longer needed to ask for anything. 

“Hi,” you turned in your chair to face him. You were smiling, but you had been smiling all night. Did you mean any of them in the last few hours? The answer was unknown, but you certainly meant it now. You took one look at Max and you couldn’t help but smile, it was your body’s natural reaction, just like how you turned to face him as soon as you sat down. 

“Fun night?” He asked. He always asked that, but you both knew he didn’t care about what you got up to inside the walls of the nightclub. If he cared, he would have joined you the number of times you politely asked him to when you saw him in passing when you left the flat. But Max just wasn’t a nightclub kind of person. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Yeah, Rina’s a bit of a handful, but it was fun.”

“You stayed out late,” Max pointed out, but not in a type of way you would expect a parent to discipline their kid. It was simply Max calling attention to the time, the same time as always. 

This was a habit you had fallen into, unintentionally. 

Wherever you were, whatever establishment, when their bartenders yelled for last call, you pulled out your phone and called Max. The call for the last round of drinks was your reminder that you needed to go home and luckily, there was someone who would pick you up, every time, without fail. 

It was convenient that you two lived in the same building. It may have been in passing that Max offered for you to ever call him if you needed something, but neither of you expected it to spiral into this. 

He was just being friendly. It was the neighbourly thing to do. 

Which is why you were hesitant the first time you called Max when you needed a ride home. But all of your friends had left you, you lost your credit card somewhere on the dance floor and in your state of mind, you were in no position to try and walk the streets of Monte Carlo alone. 

So you called him, apologising about a dozen times but through the line you heard him get up from bed with a quiet sigh. You heard the jingle of keys and it wasn’t long before you finally heard Max’s car roar to life and he told you he’d be there in ten minutes.

That pattern of sounds became music to your ears before you knew it. The faint grunt as he stood up, the keys twirling around his finger, his car turning on. 

Breath, keys, car. It was clockwork. It was something you pretty much expected at this point when you called him. 

And Max, well Max knew it was pointless to even lay down, but he did on the off chance you didn’t go out. You always went out. 

Max had a good heart. He wanted his friends to be safe and somehow, you had wormed your way into that layer of his life. You were one of his friends. And he would rather you call him every Friday night than have to wake up in the morning and not know if you got home at all.

It was convenient that he was home for the break. He was in Monaco. He could be there for you when you needed him, and he would be.

But that pegged the question, what did you do when he was away? When he was racing? When he was across the globe fighting for championship points, who did you call to pick you up at the end of the night?

Max never asked. In fact, the topic of his job never came up with you. You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, he mentioned it subtly, well he thought it was subtle, it really wasn't. And when you said “Oh yeah, my dad watches that. He likes Josef Newgarden,” Max bit his tongue so as to not tell you that your dad was referring to an IndyCar driver, a completely different series.

You knew very little about the sport. Even with Monaco being the pinnacle track of Formula 1, you never bothered to learn about it or keep up with it. Maybe that’s why Max found it so easy to talk to you in the first place. You never once saw him as a driver. You just saw him as your neighbour and on some nights, your chauffeur. 

So one could imagine his surprise when you brought up his career during that drive home.

“When do you go back?” You asked, slight hesitancy in your tone as this was not a topic you knew well, your vocabulary was limited. “To racing?”

“Two weeks,” Max answered. “It’ll be my home race.”

He pulled up to a red light and glanced at you, instantly recognising that the term home race was not one you were familiar with, but you nodded as though you did. 

“It’s in the Netherlands,” he further clarified. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you were reminded that he was Dutch. 

“That’ll be fun,” you added. 

Why was this awkward? Neither of you were usually ones for small talk. Usually you would get in the car and talk about the characters you saw that you knew he’d get a laugh at. You would be chatting his ear off, that was part of the routine. 

And tonight, you were struggling to fill the silence. Max couldn’t tell why. 

You knew why, however. 

It was because when you were out tonight, your friend Rina was whisked away by someone who asked to dance with her. She blushed, her cheeks and neck turning bright red before saying yes and taking his hand to lead her towards the dance floor.

You watched with amusement, happy for your friend, but there was that sinking feeling of jealousy settling in the pit of your stomach. Granted, the man she was dancing with was not your type. He was tall, too tall, with dark features, an arm of tattoos. Sure he seemed charming and he certainly knew how to dance, but you weren’t jealous he had chosen Rina instead of you.

You were jealous that your friend had someone to dance with. 

And you had been asked a few times by strangers to join them under the lights, but you turned down all of them. They weren’t people you wanted to spend your time with. They didn’t give you butterflies when you thought about the potential of starting something new with a stranger from the club.

No, you got those butterflies when you climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s car. They were faint, they came as fast as they went. They could have been mistaken for nausea if you weren’t certain you only had two drinks tonight.

But they were there.

Which led to your next thought, if Max ever asked you to dance, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. 

And you had been attracted to Max since the first day you saw him, basically, but you kept those feelings to yourself, even as they grew from a physical attraction to more.

Recently, however, they had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

So maybe that’s why you were struggling to move past this silence right now. You were suddenly looking at Max in a very different light. He was your friend, yes, but he had proven time and time again that he would show up for you, that he wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up no matter that hour. None of your other friends made that commitment to you. 

But you would never act on any of it. The thoughts, the feelings. Max had never once hinted that he was interested, he was just nice. He was wholesome, despite what you had heard in the media. He was just looking out for you.

So when he walked you to the door of your flat that evening, you said goodnight like you usually did and you headed inside.

You had no idea that Max lingered in the hallway for a minute, debating with himself whether or not he should knock on your door. He’d done it before, making up some excuse to talk to you for just another few minutes. 

Because the truth was, Max enjoyed the time he spent with you, even if it was limited to those car rides from the club to your apartment complex. He liked not knowing which version of you would climb into the passenger seat. While you were almost always talkative, there were times when all you wanted was a coffee at an ungodly hour. There were times when you were complaining about the people you met. There were times when you couldn’t stop laughing to the point that Max had to pull over because your laughter was angelic and contagious and he wasn’t about to risk getting into an accident because the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves.

Max liked the fact that you always called him at the end of the night. 

For some weird reason, he liked that you were thinking of him. It made him so unbelievably happy to know that when the bartender yelled for ‘last call’ at the end of the night, he was your first call. 

But those phone calls were only ever restricted to Friday and Saturday nights. And only when he was in Monaco. While you didn’t understand Formula 1, you must have followed it a bit to know when he wasn’t home. You never called him during a race weekend. 

Except that one night last year when he was in Austin. It was just after 2am in Monaco, but Max was sitting down and having dinner in his hotel room. For you, it was early Sunday morning. For him it was still Saturday.

And it was because you didn’t recognise the pattern, you didn’t hear the breath, the keys, the car, you instantly knew that this was a weekend where he was away. He was working, racing, whatever he wanted to call it.

“Oh fuck,” you blurted out before Max could say anything. Your exclamation was met with a hefty laugh. He wasn’t annoyed in any means that you had called him while he was away, just a bit surprised is all. 

“I can order you an uber,” He instantly offered. You heard the sound of him shifting on the bed and his voice then echoed as it bounced off the walls of his hotel room, like he turned on the speakerphone, like he was already looking for the app to order you an uber from halfway across the world. 

“I can do that myself,” you argued. 

The line was silent for a moment. You were both thinking the same thing. Why didn’t you just always call an uber? Why did you always rely on Max to drive you home? 

Neither of you voiced that question. You had your own answers, but if they didn’t match up then that would lead to an entirely different conversation, one that you could do without, one that had the risk of ruining whatever sort of pattern you had fallen into.

“You okay? Did you have a fun night?” Max moved on, not wanting to think about how you were probably ordering that car for yourself. If he was in Monaco right now, he’d already be in the elevator down to the parking garage. 

“Yeah, it was good,” your words slurred together. Not enough to alarm Max, but he knew you. He knew that the more you drank, the more honest you were. 

You proved that point about two seconds later.

“Honestly, Jordan’s just fucking annoying,” you sighed. Max could picture you running your hands through your hair, you did that often, but especially when something was eating at you and right now, it was your friend Rina’s boyfriend. Boyfriend? Boy toy? Ex? Max tried to keep up, but there was a new label every week. It’d be easier to stay up to date with your life and the ‘drama’ that circled it if you saw him more than once or twice a weekend, but he wasn’t about to put that thought in your head and potentially scare you off. What you had was fine. The late night calls, the last calls turned first calls was fine.

“What happened now?” Max asked. 

“Well we literally told him not to come out, Rina’s still pissed after what he did last week- oh shit, hang on.”

While you searched for what Max could only assume was a credit card or your lip gloss or something that should have fallen out of your pockets by now, he thought back to what Jordan did last week. 

You sighed heavily into the receiver, “...what was I saying?”

“Rina’s still mad,” Max reminded you. “She hasn’t forgiven him for getting drunk at her parents anniversary dinner?”

You laughed, “God you have a better memory than me. I had to ask Rina why we were giving him the cold shoulder tonight.”

Point for Max. 

Why did this little victory mean so much to him?

“Anyway, he tried to make it up to her tonight by buying all of her drinks but then his card declined like an hour in, who lives in fucking Monte Carlo and can’t afford drinks? He’s a fake, is what he is and Rina deserves so much better. I have a theory he’s-”

“That he's from Nice,” Max finished with his own chuckle. “Want me to hire a P.I. to look into it?”

There was a pause and then a very serious, “Can you actually do that?”

“I could but I was joking,” Max said. He could picture your pouty bottom lip. It was a good thing you weren’t actually with him. He probably would have given in and found a private investigator within an hour. 

“Oh I think my uber- yeah that’s it,” you said, more to yourself than to him as your voice trailed off at the end. “I’m sorry for calling. I knew you were in Austin, I just- I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Max told you. “You don’t ever need to apologise for calling me. You know that if I was home I’d come pick you up, right?”

A faint inhale, one that held so many feelings that your words could never express, “I know.”

“Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him. “And good luck today. Or- tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ll kill it.”

This was how Max knew you weren’t keeping up with Formula 1. He had officially claimed his second world championship title last weekend in Japan. He could quite literally sit out of the remaining races and still hold enough points to safely stand at the top of the driver standings. 

But he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knew you’d instantly feel bad for not knowing, for not congratulating him. In your head, the championship fight went until the end of the season and typically it would, but this year was different for Max. 

Max just said thank you and you both hung up. You climbed into the backseat of an uber where there was no water waiting for you and you didn’t dare ask for the driver to play Harry Styles. Max laid back on his bed, pushing his tray of room service aside as he stared up at the hotel ceiling. 

When he returned that following Monday, Max was surprised to see dark blue streamers hanging on the outside of his door. There was a card shoved halfway underneath the door and he opened it up, looking at the delicate handwriting that read ‘heard you’re a world champion or whatever, let me know if you want to celebrate, I don’t mind picking you up for a change’. 

Max laughed as he read the card. It was very you. You didn’t give two shits about the driver championship and Max loved that. He loved that you found reasons to be his friend outside from the fact that he was a Formula 1 driver. You didn’t care that his name came with power, wealth, fame, but you still showed your support with the little you knew about racing. You were a good friend to him.

And that’s what it was. Friendship. Why else would you have written, ‘I don't mind picking you up for a change’? You weren’t offering to celebrate with him, you were offering to be the designated driver after he went out with his group of friends, the friends that did care about his career. 

Max would have gone out and celebrated with you. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, if you asked.

But you didn't. The closest that you came to going out with him was when you politely invited him to join you on your evenings out with your close circle, but Max was an afterthought. You never knocked on his door and invited him out, it was only if you passed him in the hallway or if the elevator doors opened and he was standing on the other side.

And Max said the same thing every time. ‘Nah, you have fun. Let me know if you need a ride home.’ 

Max thought you were just being friendly, neighbourly, but the truth was, you were waiting for the day where he said ‘Yeah, why not?’. 

You never went out of your way to ask him out because of the rejection you had received in passing. How embarrassing would it be if you knocked on his door only to be met with the same rejection? To see the look of pity on his face as the door slowly shut. 

There was a lot of uncertainty when it came to how you saw him or how he saw you and the only thing that was certain, was that you were friends. 

So that’s why Max didn’t knock on your door now and make up some excuse about how you left his lip gloss in his car. He returned to his room and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his flat at 2:30 in the morning, something he had gotten quite used to, until sleep took over as he was thinking about how maybe next time, maybe next Friday, he’ll make a proper move.

But a wrench was thrown into his plans when your name lit up his phone screen a few days later. It wasn’t weird that you were calling him, what he couldn’t understand was why. It was a little after three on a Wednesday. Your conversations, the phone calls, the late night drives, they were confined to weekends.

Max answered though, maybe you left work early and accidentally drank too many sangrias on a patio. He’d pick you up, of course, this was just very unlike your pattern.

He expected to hear the slurring of words. He could understand drunk you enough to piece together what you were saying.

But the sharp inhale through your words, this was new. It was clear you were actively trying to not cry into the phone, trying to hold yourself together but Max heard it as your meek ‘hi’ came through the receiver.

And god did it break him. 

“Where are you?” Max asked, already sliding his shoes on practically sprinting towards the elevator. Of course it was stuck on the main floor. No matter how many times he pressed the button, that steel boxed moved too damn slowly for his own good.

“Horizon,” you sniffed. Max recognized that restaurant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know who to call. Can you-”

“I’m already on the way.”

It wasn’t far. Max pulled up outside the restaurant in under ten minutes. You were sitting on a bench, dark shades covering your eyes but Max caught the way you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks before climbing into the car. 

He didn’t even think to grab tissues before leaving his flat, but he had a feeling you would just deny them anyway. If he knew anything about you, he knew you weren’t one to cry. You had a very hard exterior, you felt things deeply, but you didn’t cry. Not in front of other people.

“Can we just- I don’t know, can we just drive for a bit?” you kept your gaze on the road in front of you. This wasn’t like you and Max would do anything to see the light in your eyes, to see your bright smile that made getting out of bed at 2 in morning worth it every time.

Max nodded, getting the idea that you didn’t want to talk. Or if you did, it would be on your own accord. You crossed one leg over the other and Max glanced at the beige romper you wore. He didn’t point out the dark red stain on your hem, but you rubbing at it was certainly not going to get it out. He could only assume it was wine? Did you spill wine on yourself at lunch? Who were you even out for lunch with?

And then he noticed you playing with the ring on your middle finger, again this wasn’t like you. You didn’t fidget and if you did, you’d play with the strands of your hair. 

Max had seen you drunk, he’d seen you a few drinks in, he’d seen you sober. 

He’d never seen you so upset over something before, though. The silence in the car was heavy. Whatever was on your mind, he wished there was a way for him to take some of the weight off of you. 

He wasn’t travelling in any particular direction, just aimlessly around Monaco, but after the seconds turned to minutes, Max saw you visibly relax against the seat of his car.

“Do you know what I do?” You asked him, pulling your sunglasses off. 

You both turned your faces towards each other. Faint mascara smudges stained the corner of your eyes. Your cheeks were still rosy, your jaw was clenched in anticipation of the rest of the conversation. This wasn’t the you that Max was used to, but it was a version of you he wanted to get to know. He wanted to know every side of you, even the sides you tried to hide behind sunglasses and spilled wine and choked back tears.

“Job wise?” Max asked for clarification. “Yeah, you’re ah- an environmental consultant? Right?”

You were a little impressed that he knew, but to be fair, you’ve had hundreds of conversations with Max and you weren’t sober for all of them. The discussion of jobs probably slipped your mind.

“I like my job,” you stated.

“Good. That’s important.”

“So why do I feel stuck?”

Max licked his lower lip, “Elaborate.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing since I graduated,” you told him, looking out the window again. Slowly, the Monte Carlo skyline was disappearing into the side mirrors. “And I like it, I do. I like the company I work for. I like the people I work with, but why does it feel like that’s the only thing I have going for me in life right now?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Max sighed, but if he was being honest, he had no idea. What he knew about you was minimal and it killed him.

You nodded, but it was just out of politeness so as to not argue that he was wrong. 

A few more minutes passed before you inhaled the heaviest breath your lungs could take.

“My sister’s engaged. Rina’s moving to Milan at the end of the summer. My brother travels for a living and I just- I’m not doing anything.”

So that’s what this was about. Max was smart, he could put the pieces together. You talked about your siblings a bit, but you never mentioned your sister getting married before. The way you were looking down at your hand throughout this drive told Max that this late lunch was you meeting your sister so she could announce the good news.

And something as big as that would undoubtedly send someone spiralling, making them question their own life choices, the path they were on. As long as Max has known you, you’ve had the same job, same friends, no partner. 

Your best friend moving was not new either, you had excitedly told Max about her job offer a few weeks back, but maybe it was just sinking in now. Everyone around you was moving onto bigger and better things and you were, as you put it, stuck. 

“I think I need a change of scenery,” you admitted quietly. 

Which was not what Max wanted to hear.

Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave Monaco. Even though he was the one who was gone so many weeks out of the year for the races, he liked knowing you would always be there when he returned home. That you were just down the hall. 

Before Max could try and talk you out of moving, you reached across the centre console and put your hand over his, the one that rested on the gear stick. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, Max knew you to be a little handsy when you were drinking, but you seemed to be sober this time. 

“I’m sorry for calling you,” you said, even though you really didn’t need to apologise. “I didn’t know who else to call and I just, I needed to breathe.”

Max found comfort in that. 

That he was someone you could clear your head with, that you didn’t need to put on an act around him. In a way, you trusted him. You must have if he was your first call after your sister dropped a bombshell.

When the two of you found your way back to the apartment complex, Max walked you to the door like he always did. Your flushed cheeks had returned to its normal colour. Your eyes no longer looked glossed over. And the smile you gave him seemed genuine.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open and something in Max screamed now or never and before he knew it, he was reaching for your hand to keep you from going inside. He pulled you back to face him and the expression you wore was unreadable. 

Max froze. 

Something that he never did.

He was always calm and collected, always ahead of his thoughts, always knew what to do and when to do it. 

But that was thanks to his training and his training only prepared him for driving at ridiculous speeds and navigating dozens of race tracks and thinking on his feet in tough situations while he sat behind the wheel of an F1 car.

His training didn’t prepare him for how stunned he would feel as he met your eyes, grabbing your attention for the first time outside the safety net of his regular car.

Whatever Max wanted to say, it had now vanished and he had no choice but to rely on the words that he had told you many times before.

“You know you don’t need to apologise for calling me, right?” Max said, his hand falling from yours. 

“I know,” a faint breath of laughter followed your assurance. 

“And for the record-” Max paused. “I don’t think you’re stuck. I think you’re right where you need to be.”

Max’s words stayed with you for the next few days. In fact, they were all you could think about, even when you met Rina Saturday night at your usual spot. She had ordered you a drink, she was a few in herself already and you had barely taken a sip when she brought up the idea of you moving to Milan with her.

You almost spit out the cocktail, “I- what? Move with you? Rina, my job’s here.”

“Yeah but you’re so experienced, I’m sure you could find another one in Milan,” Rina stuck out her lower lip. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my best friend.”

While you might have contemplated moving a few days ago, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave Monaco. This was your home, you loved it here. Despite what you said to Max about feeling stuck, his words were burned into your mind.

You weren’t stuck. You had no reason to leave. You wanted to be here. 

You just had a momentary lapse of judgement. 

“I’m not moving, Rina,” you sighed, connecting your hand with hers. “But I’ll visit and you can too. I’m still your best friend, even if we’re in different countries.”

She knew better than to plead her case any more, deciding that spending the night drinking and dancing was more fun than thinking about her upcoming move. 

And before you knew it, the DJ made an announcement for the last call at the bar and you were pulling out your phone to call Max.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Rina said, or rather, yelled, as the music was still blaring. She saw his contact on your screen, she saw the way the corner of your lips were pulled upwards when you thought about being with him shortly. 

“Because I don’t feel anything,” you shouted back. It was a lie. A bold faced lie that your friend saw right through but didn’t push you any more on it. 

She walked with you to the curb. Max rolled down the window and waved to her, offering her a ride as well. But Rina denied it, she knew this was your time to be with Max. 

“Get home safe, I love you,” you called out, hand gripping the handle of the passenger side door. Rina blew you a kiss and then you climbed in. 

Max reached into the backseat and grabbed the bottle of water he had tossed there when he left his apartment. He waited until taking a sip before asking if you had a fun night.

“Yeah, Rina asked me to move to Milan with her,” you answered, wiping the corner of your mouth. You looked at Max expectantly, trying to gauge what his answer would be. Surely the man who told you that you were in the right place wasn’t going to encourage you to move.

Max just hummed and put the car into drive. He waited until you were a few minutes away from the club to say anything, as if seeing Rina standing on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror was somehow going to make this conversation harder.

“What did you-” Max stopped himself and chose something else to say, “You’re not moving, though. Right?”

And then you saw it. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. The way his hand clenched over the gear lever. The way his jaw tightened as he fought with himself before asking if you were in fact leaving.

Max didn’t want you to go. 

That thought alone made your stomach turn in knots, but not the kind you felt when you were sick. You were most definitely not sick, you could have been floating on cloud 9 when you realised Max wanted you to stay in Monaco.

“Are you kidding?” You retorted, feeling a burst of confidence. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you had been drunk before and never once tried flirting. No time like the present. “Think of how inconvenient it would be for you to drive to Milan every time I go clubbing.”

Max chuckled, his features softening as the lines around his lips made an appearance. God you loved his smile. 

“Oh so you’re staying for my sake? Well that’s- that’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. The heavy weight that was lingering on his shoulders when you mentioned moving had disappeared instantly. You weren’t going anywhere. You would still be here when Max returned from his races. You’d be here during the break. You’d be here, calling his phone on those Friday and Saturday nights when you needed a ride home.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke quietly, waiting until you nodded before getting something off his mind that had been there since this whole driving arrangement started. “Who do you call when I’m not in Monaco?”

Your smile was soft as the corner of your lips were tugged upwards. Max, if he wanted to, could have convinced himself it was the alcohol that caused you to be all smiley, but he also wanted to believe he had something to do with it. 

Dropping your gaze for a moment, you parted your lips, closed them again, and then took a breath as Max waited for your response.

“Max, I don’t go out when you’re not in Monaco.”

He was thinking he didn’t hear you correctly. Maybe you said you called some guy named Marco. That made more sense. You called a back-up rather than put your evening social life on pause while he was away.

He needed clarification, “What?”

You laughed this time, looking out the windshield. The traffic light was still red, but Max didn’t need to rely on the soft glow of the street light to make out the shade of pink that was climbing up your neck and cheeks.

“I don’t go out clubbing when you’re not in Monaco,” you repeated. He had heard you correctly.

Max wasn’t sure what to think. 

He felt like an idiot, for starters. If he had known you wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he would have put an effort in to join you during your nights out. Or better yet, maybe he would have asked you on a date. 

But he was clueless. He didn’t know that you relied on those calls at the end of the night because you were too shy to actually ask him out like a normal person would. You were too afraid of stepping outside of this pattern you both fell into because what if it didn’t work out?

Now it was all out in the open. The only reason you went out as much as you did when he was home was because you used it as an excuse to call him, to see him. 

The blaring of a horn from the car behind him caused Max to shift gears, quite literally and metaphorically. He took off, having missed the light turn green, and his attention went back to the road. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at you, he did. He very much wanted to continue this conversation but he was at a loss for words. 

The silence only grew during the drive back to your building. In the corner of his eye, he could see you shifting in the seat. You kept turning your phone on and off, hoping there would be texts to distract you from this hush that had fallen over the car. You were overthinking everything now, did you say the wrong thing? Would it have been better if you didn’t say anything?

Max too was overthinking everything. Had he misread signs you had tried to give him? Was he now making things worse by not acknowledging what you had said? With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable as you sat in anticipation for what sort of conversation was going to come next.

When Max finally pulled into the parking garage underneath the building, you couldn’t have reached for the door handle faster. You wanted to go inside, to forget you had said anything. God you even debated deleting his number from your phone so you didn’t risk calling him again the next time you went out.

But Max was quick too. 

He knew he had to do something to make up for how painful this car ride was, something that showed you he was on the same page as you, that he too looked forward to the moments he was home just so he could wait for your phone call.

He stepped out of the car when you did, walking around the front instead of heading towards the elevator. You kept your eyes down, planning on just walking right past him, and you would have, had Max not grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you into his body.

His fingers moved from your hand to your waist as his other hand cupped the side of your face and you finally looked at him for the first time since you got into the car. 

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like you had time to say anything before Max took that leap, crossed the line, and pressed his lips to yours. 

And it was everything you had been waiting for. 

Max leaned against the hood of his car as you slid your hand up his shirt, grabbing the thin material as you wasted no time in kissing him back. His mouth was tender and soft as it moved against yours, both of you feeling the same intensity that had been building up for weeks, maybe even months now. 

It took everything in Max to not drag you back into the car and pull you on his lap in the driver's seat, an image that he had painted in his head a while ago. Instead, his grip on your waist just tightened, holding you against his chest the way he had been wanting to for a while now.

Your nose brushed against his when you pulled back, your gaze lingered on his lips before finally darting upwards. 

The parking garage was quiet, there was a low hum that came from the pipes above you. The overhead lights did nothing to set any sort of mood, but you couldn’t imagine a better place to share a first kiss with Max.

You weren’t in the safety of his car, a place that had become so comfortable to you. By waiting until you stepped out, by stopping you from walking to the elevator, Max was showing you that this was something he wanted and he wanted it when the car ride was over. He wanted it before you called him, before you went out for the night, before the weekend even started. 

He relaxed against the hood of his car, both of you sharing similar looks of serenity. There was no more confusion, no more wavering uncertainty. 

His fingers brushed through your hair before bringing your lips to his once more. 

And then there it was, that smile of yours that made getting into his car two in the morning so fucking worth it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Max asked. He now knew the answer wouldn’t be going out with friends, that was reserved for when he was home.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Well you said you wanted a change of scenery, right?” Max recalled your conversation from earlier this week. “How about the Netherlands?”

“You want me to come to a race?” You were probably the last person who should be invited to a Grand Prix and Max knew this, he even laughed at your doubtful response. 

“I really do,” he said. 

“I don’t know anything about Formula 1.”

Max rubbed his thumb over your side, the simple gesture was enough to have your body curving against his once more. 

“I have all of next week to give you a crash course,” he pointed out. “If you’re interested.” 

And of course you were. There’s nothing else you wanted more than to spend your evenings with Max, to learn more about his career, to learn about him. When your lips curved upwards into another smile, Max knew you were on board. 

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You go out with me the next weekend you’re in Monaco.”

Max dipped his head back and laughed. You rested your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face back to yours. 

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckled. “And I will, but we’ll be leaving before last call.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you still take me home,” you pressed your lips together tightly, trying to contain your eagerness for the night that was still far in the future. Max brushed his thumb over your lower lip. He too was thinking ahead. 

Not just to that upcoming weekend, but every weekend after and all of the days inbetween. 

Coming home to Monaco was always something he looked forward to, but now he had even more of a reason to anticipate the breaks between races. You two didn’t have to wait until a Friday evening to see each other anymore. 

He didn’t have to be your first call at the end of the night, but you both knew he still would be, and so much more. 

He’d be your first call when you got home from work and you’d be his when he landed in a new country. You’d be the first person to call him after watching his winning performance of a race and likewise, you’d be the first person he wanted to talk to, the first person he wanted to celebrate with.

There’d be a lot of firsts moving forward, but you didn’t need to wait until last call anymore. 

masterlist here

this was mostly for @tsarinablogs and @estevries

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

[justporo]

Shooting Stars

A night of star showers is imminent in Baldur's Gate. You couldn't think of a better way to spend it but with Astarion and a sparkling glass of champagne in your hand - and lots of teasing banter- until the first star comes shooting. Because of course: there are wishes to be made and hopefully to be fulfilled.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Time to cook of the 2024 season! I originally wanted to use this for the Winter Challenge as well but eh, I rather wanted to take my time (and I'm happy about it - I'm only getting back in the saddle with writing now, break was very much needed). So have this piece of fluff, that is hopefully something for the soul to kick of this year of writing! This wonderful artwork was done by the lovely @britonell (thank you so much!).

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: none, just tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2,9k

Song: All This And Heaven Too - Florence + The Machine

~~~

“Shit, I think I ripped one of my stockings”, you cursed while you rearranged your seat at the edge of the roof. Astarion relaxedly sitting beside you clicked his tongue and looked judgingly at you - but you knew he was only teasing. The sparkle in his ruby eyes spoke of nothing but affection and admiration as he looked at you and then towards the glittering night sky.

Tonight a shower of shooting stars was supposed to happen. The whole city had been raving about it for days since astronomers had shared the news of the upcoming celestial event. Probably every one who could afford so would be out and about to catch a glimpse of some of nature's magic. And of course - as was custom - to make some wishes and hope for the falling stars to kindly fulfil them.

Some of the stars on the firmament were twinkling already, as if they were shimmying, getting ready to fall out of their sockets and travel across the night sky. To grace all beings below them with their fleeting beauty.

Never had you seen something like this and you had been brimming with excitement from the first moment you had heard about it. You wouldn't want to miss it for the world.

When you had asked Astarion if he wanted to watch the star showers with you he had lifted one eyebrow and given you a kind of condescending if playful smile. Then, when he had answered his voice had dripped with sarcasm: “Oh darling, why would we need to watch some beautiful fallen stars when I already have one right in front of me.”

You had almost barfed onto his feet. Astarion had looked offended.

Then you had lost it so hard laughing that your vampire had needed to hold you up by your elbows so as to not let you slide onto the ground while you suffered from your hysteric fit.

“Astarion, love, you already have me - you can scrap the cheesy lines - please?”, you had pressed out through laughter and buried your face in his chest while Astarion had pouted a bit more about your snide remarks regarding his flirting techniques.

Of course, he hadn’t stopped. In fact, he’d made it a game over the next couple of days to come up with even much worse lines while you always desperately tried to keep it together.

“But darling, all my wishes have come true already with you by my side.”

“Love, I believe the night's cancelled. All stars are already in your eyes.”

“Oh, my heart, I’ve already fallen hard for you, why would you need another star?”

They got progressively worse the longer he kept going - and incredibly less inventive.

But of course you were still swooning on the inside, at least a little. Because after all, how couldn't you? Knowing that Astarion was indeed in love with you and that he really meant his words. Well, once you scraped all the gooey honey off it. What lay beneath was very sweet and much less sickening.

This game of his had gone on for several days until the night had finally arrived - and until even Astarion had almost run out of stupid pick-up lines.

The both of you had decided to dress up, just for the hell of it. This being one of the things you had adopted quickly from Astarion: indulging yourself, taking care of yourself and dressing for yourself - and for him of course, because you could never get enough of the stunned looks he threw you.

You were in a dress that Astarion had gifted you some time back and that was embroidered by the man himself. And the vampire in a finely stitched doublet that made him look positively regal and smoking. There was a fair amount of staring happening from both sides, hopefully not distracting from the actual event later on.

Then with lots of giggles from your side and terrible cursing from Astarion you had climbed onto the roof of your little Baldurian townhouse. This man could never do anything without commenting on it. When you had pointed out as much, he had narrowed his eyes at you and looked tempted to drag you down the small ladder again that led up to the roof. But you had swiftly moved out of his reach with a cackle - not without also making sure to give him a good view of your behind first by deliberately swishing open the slit in your skirt.

Carefully, you had scattered towards the edge over the old shingles then, until you could carefully settle down.

Obviously not carefully enough though since you feared that the delicate sheer fabric covering your slender legs might have been torn on a sharp edge when you had sat down. But it didn’t really matter. Astarion had already promised he’d rip these stockings off you (together with the set of naughty underwear you’d chosen specifically for him) with his teeth later in the night. Really, you were just presenting an opening for your eager lover.

With another curse under his breath, the vampire sat down beside you although he did so elegantly and immediately evoked the image of a lounging cat. The grace of the rogue really was unmatched.

You leaned back on your hands and angled one leg, putting it up on the edge while the other dangled over thin air. Astarion almost mirrored you with the way he seemed to sit comfortably there, leaning back, legs slightly spread and hanging over the edge while he observed the glittering night sky.

“Love, that’s no way to sit for a lady”, Astarion teased you with a promising grin while he eyed your angled leg, clad in nothing but a gauzy stocking, adorned with a delicate lace rim at the very top of your thigh - which was almost completely on display for him.

You angled your head at him and swayed your leg a little so the slit allowed for an even better view of your leg - careful to only tease for later.

“Good thing I am not a lady then”, you replied to your vampire, tongue in cheek.

“Oh yes, my love, it’s for the best. The way I’d single handedly ruin your reputation later tonight would be scandalous,” Astarion replied while he devoured you with his eyes from under his brows. In his head you could bet he was already letting his teeth graze over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. Oh, it would be a night to behold.

You laughed softly, throwing your head back. But then you let your leg softly fall onto the other, giving at least the illusion of decency again.

You grinned at the vampire, the vampire grinned back with promise.

Nothing would ever come close to this, to being with him: the playful banter, the easy companionship, the intense intimacy. You hummed contentedly while you slowly ripped your loving gaze of Astarion and let it wander over your surroundings.

Below you the streets of the Upper City seemed to fill up with the whole population of Baldur’s Gate. Of course everyone wanted the best sight of the night sky - and Upper just had the best spots. And what a good thing that you still had the vantage point even with all those people trying to find a neat stargazing spot.

Idle chatter drifted up towards you. People had brought food and drinks and a continuous hum of anticipation filled the cold night air, but you barely even noticed. For you there was merely your soulmate and you up on the roof of your home.

Behind you you had two crystal glasses waiting to be filled with some bubbling champagne Astarion had insisted upon. “If you’re going to make me sit up on some godsforsaken rooftop during wintertime only to crane your neck at the night sky you can look up at every night, I might as well bring a drink”, he’d said and rolled his eyes while he had grabbed not one, but two of the expensive bottles. You had simply shrugged - you wouldn’t say no if drinks were involved. And since you had figured out that it had been nearly half a year already since most everything had been dealt with, you felt it was only appropriate to celebrate this fact with a drink.

The vampire had whole-heartedly agreed when you had told him your observation. Astarion, of course, had been very well aware of that even before. He hadn’t stopped counting the days since his life had taken a turn for the better and, perhaps, he never would.

Up on the roof the rogue now procured his dagger, threw it up to flip it artfully and only then - when he was sure that he had your full attention - he took the first bottle with a sly grin. And then, in his histrionic manner, he swished the sharp blade up along the curve of the bottle neck and cleanly took off the head along with the cork.

Champagne immediately started foaming out of the bottle and Astarion was quick to grab the crystal glasses, both in one hand, and elegantly pour you each a glass of sparkling wine.

Somewhere below you heard someone yelp - apparently Astarion had unconsciously managed to hit someone with his display of skill. You looked down and saw an older gentleman rub the back of his head and turn towards you.

Quickly grabbing Astarion’s arm to make him pull back with you, you dragged up your legs with a giggle, hoping you could hide from the unwilling target. The vampire grinned broadly at you while he kept pouring - that little rascal.

You had to be honest though that you’d been quite impressed with the display of this dextrous if wholly unnecessary talent. It was after all very fitting for the flamboyant elf. But your adoration must have shown because the vampire was grinning proudly at you as he handed you a glass.

Time to get his ego in check again before it became too massive.

“Where’d you learn that?”, you asked after you had clinked glasses with him. “Rich prick academy?”

Astarion almost snorted into the glass he’d been taking a sip from. He recovered quickly though. “Not my fault they taught you neither that nor manners, you insolent little thing.” He clicked his tongue and took another sip of bubbly.

You waited until he had lifted up the drink filled flute to slap his arm.

His drink sloshed, some spilling onto him.

The look of that combined with too much force you had used to get back at him almost made you lose your balance. You screeched, gripping your glass as if it could stop you from falling.

But thankfully Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist with roguish reflexes, pulling you back and thus prohibiting you from falling off.

Your heart was racing from the sudden rush of adrenaline. The vampire was only laughing as you recovered from your self-inflicted fright. And you hadn’t even drunk a single drop of alcohol yet. So you made to catch up and lifted the crystal to your lips.

“Darling, don’t break your back falling off this rooftop, yes?” Astarion said, choosing this exact moment to break the silence again. “I have way better options to achieve that if you should insist upon it, my heart.”

You choked on the prickling drink and started coughing. Immediately, you were almost ready to push that bastard again, risking falling off once more. Astarion in the meantime smirked smugly at you while drinking his champagne in peace now.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time”, you croaked pathetically after barely being able to talk again. Somehow you seemed to draw the short end of the stick fairly often when it came to trying to out-sass the pale elf. But he had more than 200 years on you with that - give or take. You’d get back at him one of those days.

The bickering went on for some more back and forth until you had each downed your first glass, then a second while you were both laughing profusely and you started to feel the alcohol make your mind a little hazy.

Astarion refilled the glasses once more and you just kept talking - about everything and nothing. It was always so easy to just spend time with each other. It almost felt like you had been together a whole eternity already, in the best way imaginable.

“So, what are you wishing for?”, you asked Astarion emboldened by the alcohol while you were working on emptying your next glass of champagne.

The vampire inclined his head towards you and softly shook his head in disappointment: “Love, have they truly taught you nothing? You’re not supposed to tell or it won’t come true!” He softly clicked his tongue while you stuck out yours towards him. You kept looking at him in anticipation - but he was firm on not losing a word on the matter.

After a while you gave up with a dramatic sigh and gulped down the rest of liquid in your glass. Neither pouting at him, bribing him or even offering another glance of your precariously clothed legs seemed to work.

You though knew exactly what things you’d be wishing for: for him and you to be happy - that was the most important thing, to find a way to allow Astarion to walk in the sun again, a long and happy life for all your friends you hadn’t seen in a while now, to have things stay like this forever or at least to be able to always come back to moments like these.

You really deeply hoped this would stay with you: the unconditional love, the deep trust, the easiness with which the two of you spent your days and nights now with each other.

Some time ago you had feared that once the permanent tension of your adventuring days was over there wouldn’t be much left for you. That Astarion would just realise that you were barely more than a former street kid and thief - and pretty much boring beyond that.

But it hadn’t been like that. Quite the opposite: every day seemed to make the vampire fall harder for you. And you knew that was surely true from your side. It was like every time you looked at him another small piece of your heart was permanently handed to the vampire who you trusted fully to handle it gently. And perhaps the same was true for Astarion’s undead and unbeating heart in his chest.

You kept gazing at him and enjoyed just listening to him talk beside you while you sipped on your drink. The wind was drifting through both your hair, pulling some light strands of your hair with it while it merely tugged softly on the rogue’s curls. His side profile was sharply illuminated by silver moon light, pronouncing his straight nose, sharp cheekbones. And not to forget his ruby red eyes that always caught when you were staring at him and then sparkled in delight.

You could just spend eternity with moments like these.

Astarion was currently telling you about a book of poetry he was reading at the moment, looking up at the moon and the stars with a slight smile on his lips when a murmur started to move through the crowd below you.

Both of your ears perked up a little as the people became louder. And then when someone even screeched and you saw someone pointing up at the night sky as you leaned forward you realised what it must mean: shooting stars.

Your head snapped up and you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye, just the disappearing tail of a star racing across the darkness. With a gasp you grabbed Astarion’s shoulder without looking to get his attention. The vampire immediately complained but was silenced when another falling star shot across the sky - this time clearly visible for both of you.

The people below were buzzing in excitement now, loud “oohs” and “aaahs” were heard in the chill winter night as the stars become more and more frequent until bright white curves of sparkles were drawn across the sky every few seconds.

Your eyes widened as you beheld the wondrous event in front of you, completely entranced by what was happening. Truly a magic that was unmatched in beauty, a spell woven over everyone that was lucky enough to catch sight of it even for only a moment.

The vampire observed the falling stars with you for a long while before he slowly turned to you.

Astarion looked at you, still fully smitten by stars falling from the sky, eyes wide and shining, lips parted slightly.. He drank it all in: the wonder in your eyes, your beautiful face, the love. You see the latter reflected on his face when your gaze flicked to the vampire and back up to the sky to not miss a single star.

But Astarion’s gaze kept lingering upon you. Not wanting to ever forget even the most miniscule of details of this moment while sparks of light kept dancing over your face and your ever broadening smile.

He hadn’t lied, calling you his star.

Because his biggest wish, although always unspoken, had already been fulfilled.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna

[bleeding0heart]

This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the Earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again

For this is the end

I've drowned and dreamt this moment...

🌟Starring🌟

Celestial Daifuku Cookie 🔮 (My OC—One the beasts who didn't get corrupted)

Shadow Milk Cookie🎭

The betrayal part is inspired by this amazing post🌟🌟:

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

As the seal weakened, the crack embedded in the bark getting wider, Celestial Daifuku Cookie could feel a way too familiar sense of dread stirring in his stomach.

No... Impossible... It can't be, can it?

And then the worst happened. The vines eventually withered, giving way for the gap to crack bigger, hence freeing the beast within...

”Ahhhhaha!... Doesn't this fresh air just smell DIVINEEE?"

Shadow Milk Cookie.

Shadow Milk's booming voice echoed through the empty forest of Beast Yeast as he popped out of the Silver Tree, staring down on them with a deranged grin, his eyes flashed with chaos.

He eyed them for a moment, until his gaze fell upon a particular cookie: Celestial Daifuku Cookie.

Even though millions of years had passed, his sugarcube has changed a lot, he still recognized, still remembered. The painful memories of his beloved, abandoning him and his friends to tend to the weakling crumbs, had been carved deep into him, soul and flesh, body and whole.

"Well, well, wellll~... Look what we have here~? Care to give your old friend a bigggg hug, sweetheart? I've missed you dearly after I got imprisoned behind those nasty bars and chains!" Shadow Milk faked a pout, before his iconic smile returned, along with his "unbearable" singsong tone.

"It seems like the seal has gotten weaker as time passes by so carelessly... You still haven't changed at all, Jester."

"Awwhhh.... Don't say it like it's a bad thing~! My poor little heart feels like it's being torn in two by your cruelty, sweetheart~! What do you say we have a dance to reunite after being separated from each other for so long, eh? I've got some moves that'll make even the moon jealous~!"

"No—" Celestial Daifuku didn't even have a chance to refuse, as the Jester grabbed him by his hands, fingers intertwining. Shadow Milk's hollow laughter filled the place, as he forced his sugarcube to dance with him by force, controlling their movements like a puppeteer with his puppet.

The other cookies could only watch in helplessness. "Let go of him!" Pure Vanilla demanded, concern etched across his face. He raised his staff and pointed it at Shadow Milk, who only gave him a mocking grin in return.

"Hmm... Now why should I do that? Silly Vanilly'! Did you really think that you're the one in control here? Oh, no, how terrible! But fret not, my darling audiences! Because I, Shadow Milk Cookie,..." The Jester pulled the Oracle closer, holding him by his waist and hand in his. "... And Celestial Daifuku Cookie will perform a once-in-a-lifetime show together, tonight!"

[heliads]

Hellloooo!!! I don’t wanna add to your workload so if this just piles on, please delete it! 😅😊 I just had an idea for a newt x reader fic where they’re in an established relationship in the Glade and during a bonfire one night the boys all ask newt questions about what it’s like to date reader and how it feels and newt just answers with the upmost sweetness. Reader overhears and fluff ensues!!!!

fluff ensues has got to be one of my favorite plot descriptions. like yeah it absolutely will do that (and no worries, nothing will stop the workload from being! newt just helps make it better <3)

masterlist

Newt is aware that he is a little bit luckier than most. This is a sentiment that he never thought he’d be caught dead believing. Not in the Glade. Not in the Maze. Not anywhere in this surreal mess of a place. Yet it’s on repeat in his head on a day to day basis nonetheless, ticking off the hours like an alarm clock consisting solely of his blessings. 

Newt didn’t think he’d have that much to brag about. No memories means no history he can mention to his equally luckless friends. Still, he’s got one important victory in his life that no one else can even dream of, and that’s the fact that he’s dating Y/N. Yeah, that certainly sets him apart in the world of good things given to kids who can’t quite convince themselves they deserve them. 

Some would say that Newt is being a little dramatic. He would argue that his response is perfectly within reason. One girl has been sent up in all the months that anyone’s been in the Glade, one girl and one girl alone, and she just happened to choose him. Around here, that’s grounds for being nominated for sainthood. 

Newt isn’t going to act like he’s not just over the moon every time he thinks about the whole situation. Against all odds, Y/N fell in love with him. That’s so unreal that Newt has to pinch himself every hour on the hour just to make sure it isn’t a dream. He never tries too hard, though. Just in case. 

He didn’t have many thoughts on love before she came up. There wasn’t really time now, was there? It was just him and the scores of other stragglers making do in their bloody terrible world. You don’t spend much time lingering over potential sweethearts when the closest thing to a Romeo is Gally yelling at everyone in the Glade except his friends.

Not great dating material, to say the least. Even when Y/N came up that one month, though, he still hadn’t fallen for her from the start. He liked her, obviously, she was nice and didn’t test his patience, but he was perfectly content to keep her as a friend, just that. Great expectations have a way of letting you down. Newt’s learned that if you keep your eyes on the ground, stop looking up at the sun and stars, you’ll be able to deal with it a little easier when all your brightest aspirations go away.

He’d done that before and he planned on doing it again. Even as time passed and he realized that his heart had a funny way of speeding up whenever she was nearby, when it occurred to him that his daily routines always had a way of working in chances to see her, Newt forced himself to ignore everything. Maybe he liked the way the morning sunlight always played on Y/N’s face, maybe he could have spent hours wondering over the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs. It was nothing that he could ever commit to treasuring above anything else.

It took several rounds of self-talk and about a dozen different interventions staged by his friends for Newt to get up the courage to tell Y/N how he felt. Hell, it took at least half of those interventions for him to even admit how he felt to himself. Newt had been internalizing for so long that bringing some of those emotions to the forefront of his attention was damned near impossible. Minho, Alby, and a few others, however, were so sick of seeing him ‘mope around like a lovesick fool,’ to quote them specifically, that they were dedicated to the task of getting him in order.

It worked, too. Newt had run through what could have been a hundred speech variations in his head, all mentioning her character or her sense of humor or any one of the millions of things he liked about her best. In the end, he didn’t choose a single one. The second Newt pulled Y/N away from a crowd of their friends for ‘something he needed to say in private,’ every single whirlwind of thoughts storming through his head came to an abrupt stop. He totally blanked out. 

Newt wouldn’t even know that he managed to force any words out at all were it not for the fact that the effects of that interaction are quite obvious. Somehow, Y/N ended up returning his affections, and they’ve been doing pretty well ever since. Newt doesn’t like counting his eggs before they hatch and all that, but he’d go so far as to say that he doesn’t see it ever breaking down for quite some time, if ever. They’re alright. They’re great, and they’re happy, and in a place like this, you take that and run with it for as long as you can. Maybe it’ll ruin itself someday, but Newt plans on pushing that off to the distant future for forever and a day.

In the meantime, Newt gets to think about how lucky he is. Despite the fact that Y/N’s apparently been crushing on him for just as long as he started liking her, and despite the fact that Frypan proclaims on a daily basis that he’s never seen two shanks more alike, Newt still feels like all of this is just one great coincidence. Maybe it was never supposed to happen, but it did, and he’s going to love that and her for as long as he can.

She’s waiting for him now, he thinks. Work is over for the day, and there’s a Bonfire Night happening this evening too, courtesy of the shivering Greenie fresh out of the Box who still can’t seem to keep his shock from showing. The fool to whom this celebration is owed looks like he’s going to keel over, what from the way he keeps half doing a backbend from continually craning his neck up to stare at the Walls, but the rest of them can get drunk and fuck around and generally have a good time. 

Greenies never appreciate their Bonfire Nights enough anyway. It’s up to the rest of the Gladers to show them what it’s like to have fun. Who knows the next time they’ll be able to stop stressing over the ruins of their lives anyway? Newt’s heard half a dozen Gladers proclaim that they only live bonfire to bonfire anyway. They might as well prove it tonight.

Newt meets Y/N on the outskirts of the bonfire just as the dark starts to fall. Dusk kicks up its heels, keeping watch over the revels and hiding the sun, which can never bear to see whatever mistakes they’re going to make next. Y/N holds out a hand to him, one Newt gladly accepts.

“I can’t believe it’s been six months now since I first showed up,” she grins, gesturing towards the Box with her free hand, “Feels like just yesterday.”

Newt snorts. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh? Trust me, the Greenie Days get faster and faster. I swear I just finished touring the last kid, and now we’ve got another one to keep pestering us with questions.”

Y/N shakes her head, considering this. “Nah, I think this one will be better. He’s too scared to speak above a whisper. If you try, you can just ignore him.”

Newt chuckles. “I’m not supposed to be bullying the Greenies. Alby says I’m meant to set a good example.”

“I saw Alby telling Minho to trip the new kid to see if he’d finally make a sound if he bit the dirt,” Y/N comments, “I don’t think kindness is really in our books.”

Newt arches a brow. “I could see that happening. Did it work?”

“No,” Y/N says, disappointed, “Kid was so scared to move a muscle that he didn’t fall at all. Just kind of stopped walking like he’d hit a wall instead of Minho’s ankle.”

Newt tries to bite back a smile. He’s only half successful. “Shame. That would have been fun to see.”

Y/N laughs. “That’s what I said. Anyways, they’re all over there, near the fire. I think the next strategy is to give the kid some of Gally’s brew in the hopes that it’ll coax something out of him other than his dinner.”

Newt shudders. “Best of luck to him.”

“And to me,” Y/N replies, “I think I’m going to get a glass of my own. See you in a second.”

Newt waves a casual hand in goodbye, watching as his girlfriend weaves through the steadily forming crowds of Gladers in an attempt to track down a drink. He takes a seat near an overturned log, staring into the fire as it disappears into sparks. Six months since Y/N appeared in the Box, so it’s been indeed.

Newt can’t decide whether that feels like a long time or not nearly long enough. Y/N’s changed him in almost every way, that much is obvious. Sometimes, in meeting someone you know will impact you forever, you almost want them to have been around for much longer. Strangers aren’t meant to become your best friends, not until you’ve known them for years and you have scores of memories to share. You want to give them decades in your mind, centuries, as a sign that they’ve been so important to you. Mere months aren’t enough. Surely it should be more.

It isn’t, and maybe that’s for the best. Newt has no memories save for when he came up his own share of months ago. All his friends are new, all his enemies still more recent. Maybe the girl he loves has only been in his life for a short time, but his recorded life is short indeed. Everything is modern. That’s just how it is.

Newt becomes aware of eyes on him and realizes that he might not be the only one reminiscing about when Y/N came up in the maze. A few Gladers have come up by Newt’s side, steadily appearing out of the gloom and smoke to stare at him.

Newt glances at them questioningly, and a few moments later the bravest of them dares to voice their collective thoughts. “What’s it like dating Y/N?” The boy asks, “you know, since she’s the only girl?”

Newt smiles to himself. “It’s great,” he says.

This clearly isn’t the response the other boy wants. “Yeah,” he repeats, “but what’s it like? It’s not like the rest of us have our own girlfriends to compare it with.”

Newt bites back a laugh. “Well,” he begins, noticing out of the corner of his eyes that the other boys draw closer to him expectantly, “it’s like having a best friend, but even better. She’s someone I can talk to at any time, but I don’t have to worry about seeming uncool or weird around her. Y/N knows exactly who I am, the good and the bad, but she’s chosen to be with me anyway. It makes you feel like you can do anything.”

The boy nods, accepting this. “Are you ever worried that she’s going to get tired of you and leave you for someone else?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m worried about competition,” Newt says slowly, “I’d say, don’t think you even have a chance. She’s my girlfriend, you bloody shank, not some object you can steal away. Anyway, obviously I’d like it if she stayed with me a while longer, but I’m not scared, no. I know that we’re happy, and that’s enough.”

The boy’s face flushes scarlet when Newt calls him out, but he seems to have made his peace with it at the end. Newt’s half expecting more questions, but all of a sudden they scatter to the corners of the celebration. A few moments later, the cause of the disturbance becomes obvious:  Y/N herself takes a seat next to him, glass in hand.

“It seems like you had a score of admirers,” she says, lips twitching up into a smile.

Newt groans. “More like your admirers, trust me. They wanted to ask about what it was like to date you. Not something I thought I’d be discussing with the Slicers-in-training, but why not?”

Y/N laughs. “Oh, I know. I have to say, though, it was very sweet. Being with me makes you feel like you can do anything?”

Newt feels his entire face heat up, and he briefly ponders launching himself into the fire to escape it. “I didn’t realize you were eavesdropping. That’s rude, you know.”

Y/N just grins. “I do apologize. It was very sweet, though. I appreciated it.”

Newt rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep a smile off of his face for long. “Does that mean you won’t leave me for some random boy who showed up a few months ago?”

“I’ll consider it,” she assures him, “like you said, though, I wouldn’t worry much. I happen to like being with you quite a bit as well.”

Newt reaches over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. Y/N leans her head on his shoulder, and they stay there for quite some time, watching the embers of the fire curl into ribbons of smoke up in the darkest reaches of the sky. The bonfire dances, their friends shout and clap and laugh all around them, and through it, they keep going. All is well.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

You blink. At some point you had picked up the hat, gripping the brim tightly between your hands. The weight is familiar in your hands; you rub the edge between two fingers, and it's just as soft as you remember.

Well. You don’t know how you started shuffling on the good ol’ mortal coil again, but you certainly don’t plan on advertising that fact to dear Stardust, so that means the hat is yours now!

(Maybe you should burn it. Y’know, symbolically! That would probably be fun!

But… someone made this for you. Someone looked at the snotty little kid you probably were, and made this for you to last your whole life. You couldn’t…)

You settle the hat on your head gently; it sinks down through the rays of light and lands, surprisingly, on soft hair.

Loop finds themself alive again, with a choice to make.

(Full fic below the cut)

You don't know how you are alive.

You had disappeared– blown away on the wind, specks of light, probably really pretty if it wasn't, y'know, you, and then you had blinked and you were lying under the Favor Tree, Dormont's party in the distance the only indicator that you weren't at the start of a loop.

You had booked it into the forest as soon as you realized what was going on. Wouldn't want Stardust and their family to find you, after all!

(The mysterious traveler Siffrin, the helpful guide Loop, the Universe's favorite (ha!) court jester, brought back to life again. It would be indecent to try and take something that wasn't yours, after you already failed once.)

Your foot hits something soft. You look down; Stardust's hat lies crumpled on the forest floor.

Oh, that's right! It had fallen off during his adorable little confession scene, blown away off the roof of the house! It's just your blinding luck to be the one to find it, isn't it!

Poor little Stardust, out there with a cold head; you're sure the Fighter is already coming up with ideas for a new one, and the Researcher wondering where exactly it could've landed, and maybe the Housemaiden is fretting over whether he's too cold–

You blink. At some point you had picked up the hat, gripping the brim tightly between your hands. The weight is familiar in your hands; you rub the edge between two fingers, and it's just as soft as you remember.

Well. You don’t know how you started shuffling on the good ol’ mortal coil again, but you certainly don’t plan on advertising that fact to dear Stardust, so that means the hat is yours now!

(Maybe you should burn it. Y’know, symbolically! That would probably be fun!

But… someone made this for you. Someone looked at the snotty little kid you probably were, and made this for you to last your whole life. You couldn’t…)

You settle the hat on your head gently; it sinks down through the rays of light and lands, surprisingly, on soft hair.

You stop, hands still on the hat. You… hadn't known you had hair. You had thought maybe the rays of light were your hair. But if you have hair, maybe…

You shutter the thought and pull your hands away. No need to dwell on that, haha! You must have just imagined it, you silly star you!

You got Siffrin’s hat! You think to yourself mockingly as you start walking again. If nothing else, you’ll always be the one to have it instead of them!

---

Eventually, after… a while of walking, you find a town. It's tiny, even smaller than Dormont, and you don't think it's one you've been to before. It's certainly a bit hard to remember anything from before the loops, though~!

There’s a market set up in the center of town, stalls selling food and clothes and all sorts of nice little things you don't have enough money to buy.

You wonder if this town had been frozen, and for how long. You wonder if they know the King is dead– well, they probably know something is up, what with Stardust's little light show having been seen for miles (and by the Universe, your head still hurts if you think about it).

"Hello?" A woman asks, walking up to you hesitantly. "Are you looking for something?"

You realize, abruptly, that everyone is staring at you. You also realize that, along with having a star for a head, you are technically naked.

"Just wandering through the area!" You say brightly.

She nods. "Well, alright… Do you mind if I ask your name?"

Huh! Well, you didn't expect that! You run your tongue along your teeth absently, wondering what name to give her. Siffrin is, haha, obviously not an option. Loop is–

wait. What had you just done? You had teeth? A tongue? A mouth?

"Actually." You say, most of the brightness dropping from your voice. "I am looking for something. Is there a bathroom I can use?"

...

You think maybe Stardust was right about something; bathrooms are great for breakdowns! This one even has a nice little mirror on the counter for you to stare at yourself in! They only had a door!

Oh. You can probably use it for other things, too, like seeing if you were imagining things other than big spikes of light on your head.

You take the hat off and hold the mirror up to your face, squinting. Underneath the light, if you look hard enough… yup! That’s definitely eyes and a mouth and all those other little important things that make up a face!

WELL! A fat lot of good that does, finally becoming human again when your precious little understudy has already left the stage with YOUR FAMILY–

The mirror cracks under your thumb. Whoopsie, you can't control your own strength and now it looks like now you have to apologize to that nice lady~!

You take a closer look at your face. You look… well, like yourself! Maybe that isn’t surprising! There’s more of those weird little star freckles that adorn the rest of your body. Your left eye is dull and lightless, which makes sense considering you still can’t see a BLINDING THING OUT OF IT–

Haha. Blinding! It’s funny because you’re half blind! Aren’t you a funny little fellow!

You put your hat back on and lean back against the sink, studying how it sits. It looks a little silly, honestly, because the spikes of light just sort of… disappear into it. You take your hat off and they spring back up. It would be kind of fun to watch, if, y’know, looking at light in a mirror didn’t hurt your eye.

There’s a tentative knock on the door. You jump a little and drop your hat back on your head.

“Bright one?” The nice woman says. “Are you alright in there?”

Oooh, you do NOT like that title! Not one bit! You’ve gotta come up with a name fast now! Hurry, hurry, hurry!

Stardust is your copy– well, you suppose now you’re the copy, so maybe you should reverse their name. Nirffis? Is that anything?

…That’s horrible, is what it is! It’s nothing! Do better!

Something flickers through your mind. There’s… a story? Something about twins and a sheep and a constellation? You can’t remember anything about the story, or even what a constellation is, but you and Stardust are certainly twins, aren’t you?

(Close enough, anyway.

And you like sheep well enough, too.)

“I’m fine.” You say cheerfully after a moment, clasping your hands together in front of yourself and smiling. “And call me Gemini.”

(You remember she can’t see you after a moment and feel stupid. Your hat is crooked and you’re still holding the mirror, too.)