#i actually need to walk this off and walk my dogs

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 3

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex. (sukuna x reader)

Note: fem!reader

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

“And after you get your cast removed, you’re gonna go meet your therapist. You’re due for a session.” Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to listen to Uraume’s rambling. Not when you walked around in his apartment in those shorts that made you look so enticing. Those shorts wouldn’t have lasted a minute in his sight two years ago. Your body moved swiftly behind Uraume’s frame, which was slightly below face-level with him. 

As you cleaned his living room, his eyes followed your figure, putting away misplaced books and flash drives containing important fight compilations. You looked less exhausted now compared to when you first started working for him. It’s crazy what two weeks' worth of difference could do. Your figure looked a little fuller than before because of all the food you were eating with him, and the dark circles beneath your eyes were slowly disappearing. You also began replying to him with two sentences instead of one. 

He desperately needed to know what you had been up to. Most of your icing sessions with him were silent if you didn’t account for the loud sexual tension that was always there with how close you’d be next to him- smelling like his most ardent daydream. 

“Did you get all that?” Sukuna looked down to see Uraume with their eyebrow raised. 

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” Uraume asked. 

Sukuna nodded. “Yeah, yeah, eat my vegetables, do my exercises.” 

His manager sighed and turned to see you bent over the couch, trying to pick up a pillow that fell behind it. “You’re such a dog.” The shorter individual grimaced before placing a binder full of information about shoulder exercises on the kitchen counter. “Do these every night. Make sure you ask her for help.” He said as he gestured towards your oblivious figure, still cleaning around the couch in a compromising position. 

“Uhuh,” Sukuna said with eyes trained on your bottom. He noticed that you were gaining some volume after eating meals similar to his. It worked out well for you because your shorts showed off your shape well. 

“Gross.” They pinched the bridge of their nose.

“She’s gonna drop you off at the therapist’s office, by the way.”

“Wha- why?” Sukuna’s eyes squinted. It was embarrassing enough for him to have his ex be hired to pick his life up; having her escort him to his appointments was another thing. “Someone has to make sure you actually walk through that door and not escape with an Uber. Besides, I have a hair appointment right after your cast removal. This bob doesn’t stay sharp on its own,” Uraume said while adjusting their hair. 

Short grey wire-like strands starkly stood out on your scalp. They looked like tiny plant stems sprouting from sod. You had always complained about being stressed from school, but Sukuna wasn’t expecting the effects to be this apparent. He wondered if your body was on its last thread before you moved in with him. 

He knew your dreams were important, but you had this knack for ignoring everything else and focusing on your goal. His hands itched to grab you by your shoulders and yell, ‘This isn’t you!’ 

You looked up at him after tying his shoes. “Shall we go?” 

Burning red irises stared back into yours. There was so much to say, yet so little came out of his mouth. “Yeah, let’s get this damn thing off.”

He smiled inwardly at the bunny loop laces on his trainers as he watched you pack your bag. 

-

Everything was unsettling. The clock ticking, the familiar smell of artificial vanilla wafting through the room, the blinds covering exactly three-seventh of the window (Sukuna knows too much about ratios because of all his training),  the propriety of the entire office (who even has coasters for different types of cups?), and worst of all, his therapist’s impassive face. 

Sukuna’s knees bounced as he watched the blond man in front of him write down his notes. The sound of his ball pen scratching against the paper created an uncomfortable ambiance. “You gonna prescribe me something? Don’t bother if weight loss is one of the symptoms.” 

“No, I was just doing my crossword puzzle. You’re well enough to avoid therapeutic drugs.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “Look, Nanami, reverse psychology won’t work on me. I know you’re prescribing me some shit.”

Nanami turns his notepad around to show Sukuna the latest New York Times crossword puzzle. “I’m much too educated to use reverse psychology.” And he was right. The PhD certificate displayed on his office wall and numerous awards in a small glass cabinet in the corner indicated that the man was good at his job. He was the only therapist who could approach Sukuna’s concerns without making him feel small.

Sukuna hated that. He hated when he felt like he was being poked and prodded at by doctors. He did not cope well with having moments of weakness, hence avoiding treatment. Everyone treated him like a broken doll. 

Which he wasn’t- he was a skilled fighter who just couldn’t push himself any further. 

“You’ve been skipping your last few sessions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for paid lounging, but I’m also curious. Why’d you come now?” Nanami asked, still not looking up from his engaging activity. 

“I want to get better. I-” he took a deep breath. “-have someone I have to get better for.” He couldn’t look Nanami in the eye while saying that. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious before a man for a very long time (except for Coach Yaga). It’s part of the reason why he avoids visiting Nanami.

“Is it-”

“Yeah, it’s her. So just tell me what I have to do.”

Nanami put his notepad down and crossed his legs, iron-pressed tan slacks refusing to crease. “I’m not a relationship counselor. I’m only here to help you.” The pro boxer could only stare out the window, where the car you dropped him with was parked. If he squinted, he would probably be able to see your sleeping face.

There was a hollowing void in his life after the breakup. It seemed he had lost his reason to live, even though Yuuji was there for him- someone willing to support him even after the big incident. With a wistful heart, he yearned to be someone significant in your life again.

“I want to be with her again, but I’m scared of what she’ll think of me.”

“Is it because of what happened in the past?” Nanami asked, calculatingly to the athlete on the couch across from him.

“Yeah.”

“There’s no right way to tell her. You can’t run away from what’s inevitable. How about we talk about the incident from two years ago? It might help you gather your thoughts and decide how to come clean to her.” Sukuna indolently nodded at his therapist’s suggestion. 

“But first, I must ask you something important- what’s a five-letter synonym for abdominal pain?” 

“Can’t believe I’m paying you three hundred an hour for this shit.”

-

Sukuna had been staring at you since you both returned from the therapist’s office. It wasn’t like his usual scrutinizing stare, where it felt like he was examining every inch of your skin. It was more like his head was in another universe; you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He was going to do it. Today was the day he’d tell you why he really broke up with you. 

He didn’t visit Nanami for nothing. He just needed to ease you into having a proper conversation with him.

You were massaging his shoulders after his routine shoulder exercise, and you were glad to be standing behind his head while seated. At least you wouldn’t have his intense gaze on you. He was shirtless again, and you were finding it challenging to keep your eyes on his shoulder rather than the expanse of his broad back. On the other hand, kneading your fingers through his firm muscles was quite relaxing after staying at the edge of your seat with him all the time. “You gotta massage near my collarbones now.” 

And your relaxation period ended. 

Without missing a beat, he pulled your arm and made you stand between his legs. His firm grasp then placed your hand where you needed to massage him. You wanted to reprimand him for moving you around as if you didn’t know what to do next, but you kept to yourself to avoid pointless arguments. 

Your skin felt hot, massaging around the socket of his joint. Your heart couldn’t help but waver with how his shoulders’ muscles rippled with every little movement. The tattoos made him hotter. You didn’t want to find him hot. There were better things to focus on.

Like his thick neck with veins popping out of them whenever you’d accidentally press too hard while massaging. Or his strong jaw. His sharp, bold jawline. Up to his beautiful cheekbones, to his beautiful nose, down to his perfect plush lips. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to bring yourself back to reality. You should not be thirsting over your boss (you weren’t sure if you would call him that, but without Uraume around, he was the closest to one).

“...so why this?” 

“Huh?” You were so distracted by his beauty that you didn’t even realize he had asked you a question. 

“You told me you were gonna go to medical school after graduating, so why are you working?” It wasn’t hot in Sukuna’s room, but you could feel yourself break into a sweat. It felt humiliating to announce your goals to the world just to fail at achieving them.

“Oh, I thought Uraume would’ve told you by now. But I, uh- I got rejected.” There, it was like ripping off a bandaid. 

“They didn’t mention anything about it. Also, all five of them rejected you?” You ignored how your heart jumped over the fact that he still remembered your dream schools.  “Yeah, all five.” You had to look away from his bewildered face to hold on to some of your already deteriorating pride. 

“But that’s crazy. You worked so hard for it since the beginning.”

“Well, it wasn’t hard enough.” 

“Bullshit, they were blind.” Sukuna’s breathing started to become shallow, and Uraume instructed you not to get him worked up during his resting period. “Sukuna, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re done with the massage.”

“But-” 

“Kuna, please.” 

You said it. You said his nickname. He would have been elated in a different context, but right now, it just felt like you were trying to shut him up. So he let you escape. He let you go back to your room. He knew he couldn’t pressure you into talking to him, but he was ready to be patient. 

—

I can’t wait for you guys to read what I have in store for the next chapter 😼

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife @missthatgirl @iluv-ace @emoedgylord

[tojisun]

[head in my hands] diabolical hockey au just hit me rn-

thinking about being the specgru’s head coach’s controversially young gf, and most of the team are fucking enamoured.

so taken by how you look that, sometimes, they’d chirp at their coach (it’s nikto.. i have been bewitched 😣) about how maybe they’d get to focus if he just brought around his little sweetheart and nikto stares at them with pursed lips and deadpanned eyes before making them run lines for hours.

but nikto’s… intrigued by this. because he is the first to say that yes, you are a doll. god, the prettiest of them all - he still doesn't understand why you even chose him but it's not like he'll let you go anymore, darling. not a chance.

but mactavish's chirp is still bright in his ears that nikto realizes that maybe, just maybe, he can indulge the boys a little bit.

just a smidge. not enough to actually give them a taste, but just a spark; light up that hunger they're feeling, and maybe nikto can even get a reward for himself. maybe they'd finally lockdown on that powerplay or even solidify their defense, but whatever it is, nikto's quite excited.

it's not often that the solution to your team is right there, in the palm of your hands.

.

in the next practice, nikto pretends that nothing's changed in the routine. the boys are still doing their stretches, with garrick leading them to it, and the assistant coaches are gearing up for diverse set of trainings. keller, for one, already's got the backup goalie with him while they set up drills for him and price.

the practice goes on, with nikto amping up the intensity just so the reward falls sweeter than it is, before winding them down for the natural break. nikto gets off the ice while the team makes a game out of gathering up the pucks to dump them back into the bin, and he watches, almost with anticipation, as time trickles.

then, the inevitable-

you, bounding in from the locker rooms at nikto's message, and the team's attention easily being snagged.

it started with johnny, elbowing riley, then it was everyone turning to watch as you walk towards him you don't even give the others a second glance, laser-focused only on him. on nikto.

look at you. a room full of men who wants you and all you care about is him.

nikto feels his gums throb with something like pride, and he doesn't even notice that he's began posturing too - back straightened as he rolls his shoulders and stands up straight.

"baby," you breathe out, giggly almost, as you fold yourself into his arms.

"kotenok," nikto rumbles out, pulling you impossibly closer. sure, half of it is for show, but the stronger half is thrumming with obsession. with possessiveness and desire. because the team doesn't need to chirp for nikto to know how perfect you are.

the team's gone all quiet and laughably docile, and nikto would tease. would chirp back just to see all of them grumble at the realization that nikto can bring you around all they want, it won't change the fact that you don't even care about them.

but you're already in his arms and they're looking on with vivid envy that nikto dismisses the idea and calls for the end of practice.

that doesn't stop the boys from flirting with you, apparently - johnny catches up with you on his way back to the lockers, chatting up about your dogs like they're not nikto's dogs too. simon's brooding, quiet as he shadows you and mactavish on the way back, and only pipes up when you turn to include him in, like you're truly his weakness.

price is more subtle - stealing your attention as he stands beside nikto, like he is truly challenging his coach for his coach's girlfriend. it sort of works too because you're vibrating from where you stand as you ask him about his recent shutout - against washington - all starry-eyed like the fan you are.

but garrick. nikto thinks he might just be the worst because it's him who has you acting all shy, your eyes flicking up to kyle's face before ducking down as you busy yourself with the zipper of your jacket like you couldn't handle prolonged eye contact. it's kyle who speaks to you with such quiet timbre that you're visibly quaking when he leaned forward to whisper directly into your ear after another stuttered, "huh?"

it's kyle who walks away first too, and the one that had you tripping on your feet as you subconsciously followed even when nikto's already waiting by the car.

damn it. maybe he'll make garrick do suicides tomorrow.

[sjyzip]

ᯓ ✈︎ paradise found .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

⤷ 9. busted📍

wc: 913

warnings: swearing

“you can do it, you can do it” was all jake could hear at the moment, he was trying to hype himself up to actually go and talk to you and say the truth before things got out of control and also before riki ended up bankrupt.

jake took a deep breath and left his hotel room. walking down the hallway to get to the elevator, while he waited for the elevator to arrive he was repeating your room number in his head as if somehow he stopped doing it he would immediately forget. “406, 406, 406…” once the elevator arrived he pressed the fourth floor button and waited for the doors to close. the elevator ride seemed a bit longer this time, even if it was a pretty short ride of just three floors, it felt incredibly long this time but jake ignored it, thinking his nerves were acting up.

the elevator doors opened, signaling the arrival at the fourth floor, he left the elevator and looked around the hallways before turning left to get to your hotel room. once he finally got to your hotel room he started to doubt this whole thing “what if she gets mad at me? what if she thinks me and riki are some kind of weirdos?” But he left all his doubts behind and knocked on your door. he anxiously waited for a response until the door, eventually, creaked open, except it wasn’t the response he expected.

“hey! you’re that guy!” a red haired girl pointed at him. “uh i don’t know, i guess so?” jake replied a bit confused. “yeah you are! the dog-“ yunjin said before being cut off from inside the room “never mind, so what do you need?” yunjin asked jake. “oh actually can i talk to y/n? I need to clear something up” jake said while rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “oh yeah sure! let me get her” yunjin said before backing out a little bit and then shouting your name. you appeared a few seconds later, fixing your clothes after sitting down for a long time. when you appeared, jake smiled softly unconsciously, well at least that’s what yunjin thought.

“oh hi! didn’t expect to see you here” you said while glaring yunjin to get the message that she should give you two some privacy. “so what did you want to talk about? is it about that day..?” you asked, remembering the awkward encounter you both had. “oh no it’s not about that, it’s actually about your.. secret admirer” he said, lowering his voice after every word till the last words were just some whispers. “OH! Are you my secret admirer? well woah, I’m flattered actually-“ you started rambling like you always did before jake cut you off. “not really, I mean yes?? I picked the gift, riki bought it so-“ jake rambled too before you cut him off, totally shocked.

“YOU PICKED THE GIFT?? AND RIKI BOUGHT IT??” you shouted in confusion, looking at him bewildered. “yes and yes but let me explain first pleaseee?” he asked with a small smile before proceeding anyways. “the thing is.. when riki asked for your room number it was actually for.. me! FOR NOTHING WEIRD BY THE WAY! I just liked talking to you that day on the beach and wanted to be your friend” he clarified, slightly embarrassed about revealing the true reason for riki getting your room number.

“Oh! yeah that makes sense, but what about the secret admirer?” you asked him again “okay so riki is a terrible liar! And he made a terrible lie with the secret admirer thing instead of just telling the truth, which I apologize for, he’s a little weird sometimes” he giggled before continuing. “And the gift.. I can’t really explain the gift, I just looked the bag and said it was cute but when I saw the bag up close and i noticed the price, I literally gasped and riki just went with it and bought a thousand dollar bag” he said, jokingly disappointed in him. “well, thanks for clarifying the whole thing and also thanks for the bag, it’s pretty cute, you got a pretty good taste” you said with a smile.

“yeah? well.. you’re welcome” he nodded with a small, shy smile as he spoke. “hey, you said you wanted to be my friend right?” you asked him. “uh yeah I did” he nodded again. “well can you give me your phone? I’ll give you my number” you said as you looked at his phone in his hand. “my phone? oh sure, take it” he agreed, a bit bewildered before unlocking it so you could give him your number. you wrote your number carefully before handing him his phone back. “there you go! I think we’ll be good friends” you giggled. “yeah I also think that, see you around?” he said as he put his phone in his pocket. “see you around” you repeated with a nod as you closed your room door.

jake stared for a while at the closed door in front of him before snapping off his thoughts and turning around to head back to the elevator. he knew that if he told his friends about this he would get teased for it but he didn’t really care now cause he was surprisingly in a good mood after clarifying the whole situation like if a weight got lifted from his shoulders.

previous masterlist next

taglist: @domfikeluva, @keylimejake , @starry-eyed-bimbo, @rairaiblog , @tkooooop , @right-person-wrong-time

[unfriendlies]

it was pretty obvious at this point that there must have been some sort of feelings beyond friendship that darius had for angel, especially if he believed angel would only be safe with him and nobody else. "it's okay if you talk about what happened to you, i don't want people knowing what he's done to me. you're my best friend, the way you looked at me last night," he looked away, shaking his head. "you were disgusted with how i looked. i can't begin to imagine what other people would think of me." his voice grew softer as he spoke, speaking just above a whisper by the end of his statement. there wasn't a whole lot that he remembered from last night, just little moments and angel lifting up garam's shirt to see the bruises on his torso was one of those moments. really, garam had no idea what angel might have said to darius, or even other people. and that scared him. garam didn't want to feel pitied, he didn't want to be looked down on for the choices he made. he thought he was in love, he was looking at the world through rose colored glass. the last thing he needed was for the details of his relationship to become public knowledge. with the fans he had as a popular streamer, he also had his fair share of haters and he knew that they would use this against him if they'd found out. darius barely knew him and he already holding garam's relationship against him. he found himself rolling his eyes dramatically, "i didn't mean like an actual dog. he's just big and scary like a good watch dog would be." he truly didn't mean any harm by it. garam nodded his head in agreement to the shower, knowing that the water would probably help the dull throbbing ache in his head from their night of drinking. he waited until angel had left before going into the bathroom and turning the water on. garam didn't particularly like using other people's shower products simply because the ones he had at his place were formulated specifically for his hair texture, and he was a bit sensitive to smells but he liked angel's scent so he figured using his shower products wouldn't hurt too much. but of course, being left alone, garam got too into his head and he began to worry. was this guy right? was angel really not safe with garam or was it his own feelings for angel that forced his bias? until his ex decided to give on garam, there was no way angel was really safe. he began to panic, the only thing he could think of doing to calm himself was to sit on the floor of the shower. his arms wrapped around his legs as he hugged his knees against his chest, letting the water run over his body. he didn't realize just how long he'd been sitting there until the water had run cold. garam had gotten up, turned the water off, and quickly dried off before walking back into angel's room and into the closet. he wasn't too picky with what he chose to wear, knowing that he'd be practically swimming in anything he chose, so he went with clothes that would hide both his arms and legs. once dressed, he made his way back out to the living room. he didn't look at either men as he sat down on the couch, picking up his phone in the process to look through the dozens of unread notifications. he remained quiet as he read through some of the texts, none of them worried garam until he scrolled down to another picture. he glanced over to darius but quickly looked back to his phone just as another text was coming in. i'm going to work but i'm going to swing by your place once i'm out, i hope to see you there. he sighed heavily, at least his ex wasn't hanging around and they were safe to go back to his apartment to pick up the things he needed. "you should know i would never let anything happen to angel while he's with me." his words were almost mumbled. if he was brave enough, he would have told darius he was used to his ex's aggression, just as he'd told angel, and would easily take the man's fists if it meant angel was safe. but how could he say that without leaving way for the other's curiosity to swell? "he's my best friend, i'd leave if i thought angel was in any danger."

For some reason Garam questioning him upset Angel. He knew Garam was just upset about hearing someone talking about him. Anyone would be. Maybe it was lack of sleep but the taller man snickered and shook his head. “He doesn’t think I’m safe with anyone but him” Angel let out a deep sigh rubbing his hand over his face. Ever since the other man’s confession he had been rather over protective of Angel. Questioning his every decision which he wasn’t a fan of. But he knew Darius heart was in the right place. Longing after Garam for so long it felt nice to have someone who openly shared his feelings with him. Who cared for him as deeply as he cared for Garam. He hated being in the middle of the two. He wished they could get along. However, from the way they were both talking that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. “Listen I know what you heard didn’t sound the best. But I wasn’t talking behind your back. He asked if I was okay and what happened last night. Garam it affects me too. I need to talk to someone.” Angel frowned now crossing his own arms. His glance went to his feet as he tired to calm himself down. Snapping at each other would make a tense situation worse. At the end of the day it wasn’t either of their faults. “I’ll be sure to steer clear of talking about you specifically. It’s not my intention to make excuses but I wish you would see my side. Garam you showed up here battered and bruised. He was sitting right in the living room with me. Would you not ask if you were him? Especially after I kicked him out as soon as you got here? And I also defended you immediately.” Angel could feel himself getting worked up again. The feeling of Garam questioning him felt personal. Angel did his best to always put his best friend first. He went silent for a moment taking a step back. “He won’t come into your apartment. I’ll be sure he respects you. But respect is a two way street. Don’t call him a dog. He is only here to help.” Angel muttered glancing back at the door. Leaving Darius to his own devices for too long would only make the situation worse. “Take a shower. You can borrow whatever you want from my closet. I’m going to finish breakfast. We can all eat together and have a proper conversation. Clear the air. How does that sound?”

[amuseoffyre]

Fyre's convention adventures - Day 3 - Con O'Neill's Fanmeet

My final meet of the event was Con’s, immediately after the joyful chaos of his panel with Rhys.

Forewarning, this one contains some details of animal harm that happened to his pet before he got him.

He barely had sat down when someone asked if he’d been Whammed already and the look of feigned shock and “that’s none of your business!” set the tone of the thing :D He also told us in his best encouraging voice "You can be whammed as much as you like and don't let the right wing tell you otherwise!"

And also led into a discussion about whether it was Wham! or whether it was George Michael’s solo for Last Christmas and he had to sheepishly back down after a minute and admit, no, it was Wham, definitely Wham.

And of course, I had to bring up accent stuff and asked how it felt to actually be able to use his own accent, given how rarely northern English accents show up in media made elsewhere. He said it was a delight to be able to bring a bit of Wigan to the production.

He also talked about his drama teacher when he was a kid (who he did not name because she doesn’t deserve that respect) who – when he was sixteen – told him he would never be a successful actor because he had a weird voice. There was apparently a recent review for The Penguin series that someone said he had the coolest voice and he thought that was a lovely fuck you to that malignant boot.

He made a beautiful point that if you’re a teacher, especially a teacher in a creative field, you have a duty to be encouraging. Not talking BS about how everyone will be famous, he said, but realistic, supporting and encouraging the kids, because “we know it’s hard. We don’t need to be told it’s hard. We know, but when it’s good, it’s fucking amazing”. He also mentioned that it’s come so far from the days of RP everywhere.

I said it was definitely how I felt about seeing Buttons as well – having a working class Edinburgh accent, something that so many people have never heard. He was so happy to talk about how fantastic Ewen Bremner is as an actor (“even if I can’t understand anything he’s saying”) and that he saw him in the original run of the Trainspotting stage production in the 90s when Ewen played Renton, several years before the film happened.

It was surreal, he said, to have seen this incredible actor on stage and thirty years later, to be sharing the screen with him as Buttons (“and still not understanding a word he was saying!”) and that Ewen is genuinely one of the best actors he knows and that he’s also the best kind of people.

Someone asked about how they did the seagull stuff with Buttons and he told us about Jonathan, the gull on a string, but in the shots when they didn’t have the camera on Buttons, Ewen wore a stuffed seagull on his head to maintain the right eyelines. He had to admit it was quite challenging to keep his face straight when filming because when Ewen spoke, the plushie gull was jiggling on his head XD

And then, of course, he broke our hearts by telling us about how he and his husband adopted Cooper, their wee doggo.

Their previous dog had passed and they’d been adamant they weren’t going to adopt again because it fully broke their hearts when he died, but someone sent Con a picture of a dog in a shelter in Hungary, saying “does this remind you of anyone?” and it was the spitting image of their previous dog. They got a bit emotional about it and after a few days of trying to hold off, they called the shelter.

Cooper had already been adopted – in London – but it wasn’t working out, so they got in touch with the current owners and planned to go down and meet them. The first time Cooper saw them, he started barking excitedly and things only escalated :D

They took Cooper off for a walk to see how they got on, then got so distracted comparing selfies, that Cooper trotted off and they were so panicked about losing him that they rushed back to tell the current owners, only Cooper was there, patiently waiting on the step and ecstatically started barking when he saw them coming again.

So they go in and Con said he took one of the ladies aside to find out why the adoption hadn’t worked, because they needed to know why in case it was major behavioural things that needed work. She said that the dog was incapable of love or connecting with people. And Con, looking beyond her shoulder, could see his husband on the floor, dog on his chest, wagging his tail so enthusiastically his whole body was wagging, licking Con’s husband all over his face. Con be like MMHM. Sounds like a skills issue ;)

So they took him home but got a bit concerned when he had a tendency to bite and latch on if people touched his ears or ribs. Turned out Cooper had been horribly abused in Hungary: tattoos on his ear, broken ribs, cigarette burns and surgery without anaesthetic. They were worried it could be a problem because they have young grandkids.

Still, they decided do the trial adoption and see how he got on – usually, he said, the trial is for a week or two, then the dog returns to the original adopters and then the paperwork is done. They never saw the original adopters again.

And while they were still concerned about the biting, Con had to go away for work for a few weeks, so they got a dog-sitter in to look after Cooper. When Con returned, he said Cooper crawled along the floor of the hall on his belly to Con, head and ears down, then crawled all the way up under his shirt, curling up against his chest, trembling and whimpering. The dogsitter – who is some kind of pet psychologist as well – said it was because he’s been abandoned and dumped so many times, he didn’t know they were coming back.

Con: right that second, I decided fuck the grandkids, we’re keeping him.

And now, Cooper is so happy and safe and loved and safe :)

There was one other question but I can’t recall what it was now. It was such a lovely chat and he is genuinely such a lovely, warm, funny guy.

[leslieseveride]

JUST WATCHED 4X20 OF CHICAGO FIRE AND YOU PEOPLE WHO ROPPED ME INTO THIS ARE SO SICK, SO VIOLENTLY FUCKING ILL. I DON'T THINK I'VE CRIED LIKE THAT SINCE SHAY'S DEATH.

[indiegame]

i just napped for like 4 hrs. uh. hello.

[kuromi-hoemie]

i can hear the frogs ૮˶• ﻌ •˶ა ♡⁠ there's this fenced off area nearby with tall grass and a pond in the middle they have to themselves. there are so many of them!

u can hear them in the distance from my back patio but i followed the sound one night and found the source 😌 it's good to hear them again.

[fingertipsmp3]

Should I get up at 6 in the morning to go for a run or is that an insane decision that I will hate myself for

[scrollypoly]

Did . . .

Did link and sidon just get married??

[keeps-ache]

been so bored and the idea-well has been dry, but for some reason i built a two-story house in minecraft with a neat little tower which is nice

[monsterbisexual]

things have been scary n hard n a lot but i do feel good sometimes..theres good things too they might not seem like big things or as meaningful but it still matters n makes a difference! things might get scarier n harder etc overall n probs will at least sometimes.. even when it feels like things shld be easy theyre usually not but im trying ! n thats smth i suppose

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[sunrizef1]

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[fingertipsmp3]

People need to train their dogs and I’m not asking nicely anymore

[deadsetobsessions]

It’s been months since he’s settled into life at Wayne Manor. It’s hilarious that they don’t think he knows about their obvious nightlife (and that’s coming from someone whose hero name was just their last name spelled differently) but they don’t know anything about his own past as a vigilante. To be fair, a dimensionally displaced Ghost King wasn’t really on the board for reasonable guesses. Danny Fenton blinked innocently at Duke, blue eyes watery and oh-so-trusting of his adopted older brother when Duke claimed that his bruising came from getting caught in Ivy’s attack on the busses today.

(“Oh my god he’s so trusting and pure what the hell?” He heard Steph whisper to Dick, who nodded emphatically.)

“Oh man, you should get some rest. You guys are seriously unlucky, you know? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Danny asked Duke, his core trilling as he allowed himself to fuss over a member of his ‘fraid.

“Nah, man. I’m good. I think I’ll take a nap and sleep it off.”

“Okay. Oh, here!” Danny fumbled for his bag, grabbing his prescribed pain meds- for his chronic pain, but they don’t actually do anything for him since his ectoplasm burns away most of it- and handed it to Duke. “Take one, and only one. Those bruises look nasty.”

And then Danny gave him the puppy dog eyes and Duke folded, because Danny knew that he wasn’t supposed to hand his meds out but these situations were kind of the reason he claimed chronic pain to being with (even if it was true and his hands shook with aftershocks).

“Thanks, Danny. I feel like death warmed over.”

Danny laughed, the opportunity to mess with the family sparking in his head. “Yeah, I’ve died before. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

With that, Danny threw Duke an easy going smile and walked towards his room, bag on his back.

From his peripherals, Danny watched Jason drop his bowl of snacks, Dick’s pale face, and the concerned and shocked look of everyone else. Except Damian, who just kind of scowled thoughtfully. Tim looked like he was going to rip Danny apart like an interesting puzzle, Cass sat up straight (and he made sure every micro expression he caught on others stayed unconcerned on his own body), and Duke froze.

He snickered- well out of regular earshot- as whispers and whispered shouts rung out after he left the room.

He can’t wait to drop the “I know you’re vigilantes” bomb on them. It’ll be hilarious.