#i hope people can follow my thought process

[slutsareteacherstoo]

This was sooo lovely. You will have a message from me shortly but my reactions are below. Thank you soooo much 💜

The split vision of them in the store >>>

Chipping and shattering??? Baby why????

Love Terry’s acceptance of what could potentially be and also keeping in mind that Patrice is THEE deciding factor

For all his mixed bag of positive and negative traits, Terry's sneaky optimism was Patrice's favorite. A short, airy laugh came through Patrice's nostrils as she tossed her head back and groaned. 

"You're always so sure of things and I'm sitting here about to throw up my lunch." 

⁃ LOVE THIS OPPOSITES DYNAMIC ALWAYS!! Like soooo cute!!

. "But waiting always brought me something better than what I had. How could I not trust the process when I have the result standing right in front of me?"  - this was a word i needed to hear today like omg!!!

AND NO BC THEY NEED TO SLOW DOWN FR!!! Like yeah the wedding was cute and everything but NIGGA SHE SAID A YEAR!!!!!🗣️🗣️🗣️

UGHHH HE GETTING HIS WINS FR!!!!😩 (highkey forgot this was fanfic or rather the content of the source material. Honey, you have built a WORLD here!)

The parallel of their social blunders 🥺 like yall are twins!!

“High cheekbones passed down from a long line of majestic women. Soft, mahogany skin that mesmerized him in golden hour light every evening. Dark, expressive eyes that told the story of her inner thoughts, even when she tried to hide. Full lips he couldn't resist. The total package. Everything he hoped for was wrapped in one person.” 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Also ugh a fated romance 😩😩😩😩😩😩 he love him some Treece!!!

Damn a lot can change in year fr!!!

“but I kept coming back to you acing that pop quiz in a pink strawberry sweater." - SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE!!!!😩😩 like ugh omg

“A jawline fit for a man meant to be showcased to the world. Piercing eyes that shifted and changed with his emotions. Skin marked with blemishes telling countless stories – some he'd share and others that would follow him to the other side. Full pink lips that talked her through good, bad, and intimate times. All the features that might grace a child not yet named and growing in her womb.” - YOU KILLING ME WITH DESCRIPTION!!! I love their parallel moments of internal adoration of each other

NEVER STOP FALLING IN LOVE!!!! The description as they counted down!!! Oh so very excited for the new year!!!

LIKE WE ARE EATING IT UP ON HERE BUT IF YOU EVER CHOSE TO PUBLISH THIS SO WOULD OTHER PEOPLE IM TELLING YOU!!!! But im not telling you what to do cuz thats not my business. 🌚

Me and Your Mama

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,436

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy

Recommended Reading: Spoiled, Caught

Author's Note: We're at the end of Ficmas! Thanks for all the requests sprinkled in the middle. This has been a fun little ride and hope you feel fulfilled at the end of this one. Stay safe this New Year's Eve. See you in 2025.

Several mornings passed between Christmas, New Year's Eve, and their five-hour drive up north with no attempt to confirm Patrice's suspicion. She'd purposely avoided all conversation about it, preferring to push the thought to the back of her mind until she and Terry could no longer tiptoe around the growing elephant in the room. 

Moments after luggage was rolled into their downtown D.C. hotel room, the pair braced themselves for punishing winds and bitter cold in search of the nearest convenience store to pick up comfort snacks and three different pregnancy tests. Terry did the honors of selecting what he thought were the best options based on his research, while Patrice forced herself to take an interest in potato chips and snack cakes a few aisles over. 

She couldn't bring herself to engage. Talking about it, whatever it was, would make the dreams more real. And if what she dreamed wasn't true, she didn't know how she could pretend that all was well while her heart chipped and shattered inside her chest. So, she stayed away and let Terry put on his brave face for the both of them.

In the bright convenience store nearly empty as people prepared for a night out to celebrate the incoming new year, they felt like children caught doing something wrong instead of an adult couple on the precipice of discovering what the rest of their lives could look like. 

Terry mumbled through passive small talk with the smiling cashier, staying just vague enough in his answers to avoid the glaring topic of the day before ushering Patrice out of the automated sliding doors and back toward their home for the next few nights. 

Once they returned, neither of them spoke. Patrice slowly unpacked plastic bags filled with items, leaving the slender white boxes for last. 

She drug a fingernail across the box on top, then looked at Terry, who couldn't take his eyes off her. "I think I'm gonna pee by myself if that's okay." 

"That's cool," he answered, offering support with a weak smile. "I'll be out here if you need me."

Most of Patrice's time in the bathroom was spent staring at her reflection in the mirror. She slowly lifted the hem of her thick, cashmere sweater to examine her stomach, twisting side to side for the best angle. Nothing of note. The small bump that did exist was no different than any other day. At least, that's what she told herself as she ran her fingers along the slight curve. 

Unfolded instructions littered the bathroom counter, each saying a variation of the same thing: Pee, wait, have a minor panic attack, then check the results. Or something like that. Patrice's eyes were starting to cross from information overload. 

On the other side of the door, Terry stared out of the large bedroom window at nothing in particular as thoughts quickly ran in and out of his brain. He'd never considered being anybody's dad unless Patrice was on the other side of the fantasy. Maybe once or twice when other partners brought it up, but nothing concrete. Nothing this real, nothing that felt this right. 

Sure, it was quick. And sure, it was probably not a great idea to introduce a child into a relationship that was only recently recognized by the state as a legal union. Any boy, girl, or otherwise would be dropped into a marriage not much older than them and cared for by two humans still trying to understand life. But they'd be loved. They'd be showered in affection from sun up to sun down. He had no doubt about it. What greater joy than to hold a child that was half him and half the woman he loved with every fiber of his being? 

But he was only one part of the equation. Ultimately, Patrice was the deciding factor. Patrice and a collection of three pregnancy tests two minutes away from unveiling their fate.

The toilet flushing made Terry blink back into reality from daydreams of diaper changes and kindergarten graduations. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window's faultless glass before turning in enough time to see Patrice poke her head out of the bathroom for his attention. 

She fiddled with her fingers and rocked on her heels. "You can come in if you want." 

He nodded, careful not to appear too eager or unconcerned, and moved to join her for the wait. 

The soft click of the door closing sealed them into the room together. Terry silently shuffled into the room past Patrice to sit on the closed toilet lid and nervously ran his palm down the back of his head. He took a deep breath before looking over at Patrice, who'd gone back to obsessing over how her stomach looked beneath her clothes. 

"Hey," he spoke in a sweet, low tenor to avoid startling her. She looked over, eyes shining from suppressed tears, and found him looking at her with round doe eyes. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "Come here, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart. To Patrice's soul, the word felt like warm chicken soup on a winter evening. She could never question how Terry felt about her. He'd been there to offer comfort through a tumultuous, frightening week. Feeling his large hands grip her waist to pull her between his legs grounded her in the right there and then. Regardless of the results, he'd still be around to kiss away the bad times and laugh with her through the good. 

Patrice lightly placed her cold hands on his face while he looked up at her, waiting for anything she decided to say. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "What if it's negative?" 

"Well. We'll go out and drink champagne all night like we planned. I hate the taste on its own but know I'll love it on your lips when we kiss at midnight. Then we move on. Maybe have a conversation that we should've had a long time ago on the drive home." 

"And if it's positive?" 

Terry took a deep breath, allowing the words to come out in a mind-clearing huff. "We skip the champagne and keep the kiss. But we have to celebrate either way, baby. Time's gonna pass no matter what." 

For all his mixed bag of positive and negative traits, Terry's sneaky optimism was Patrice's favorite. A short, airy laugh came through Patrice's nostrils as she tossed her head back and groaned. 

"You're always so sure of things and I'm sitting here about to throw up my lunch." 

Terry rubbed his hands up and down the back of her legs with a smile. "I'm not sure of shit, really," he laughed. "I just know that we'll be alright in the end. This Gunny I was close with told me everything goes back to baseline. Don't sweat the bullshit in between. So, that's what I'm doing. Waiting it out."

"That doesn't scare you? The waiting?" 

"Sometimes." A quick glance down convinced him to slowly lift Patrice's sweater with one hand and hold it in place while he pressed feather-soft kisses across her abdomen. Kisses for her? Kisses for who he hoped lived inside? He didn't know. But he spoke against the area to communicate with whoever would listen. "But waiting always brought me something better than what I had. How could I not trust the process when I have the result standing right in front of me?" 

A rush of emotions broke the levees holding Patrice's tears back, sending a wet stream sliding down her hot cheeks. Terry wiped her face with the back of his hand in silence, the gentleness in his care working double time to soothe whatever thoughts and feelings were coming forward for her. 

When the short bout of crying had ceased, and she was left with nothing but her husband, a timer ticking down to mere seconds and a looming result hanging over their heads, Patrice ran her thumb along Terry's cheek and smiled down at him. 

"I love you more than I ever thought I could, but we gotta slow down, Terrence. I'm worn out." 

Terry answered her joke with a low chuckle that bounced his shoulders and spread his smile wide. "I'm with you, baby. That should be our New Year's resolution." 

"Either that or finally getting around to that budget we've been talking about. Might have to add a baby fund line item." 

"We got it. Don't worry." Terry assured before kissing the inside of her wrist. "Whatever happens, we're okay. Gimme a kiss."

Sweet affection in the face of potentially life-altering change offered some sense of normalcy as they allowed the world to turn into abstract concepts with shared, tender smooches. 

They'd almost forgotten what brought them into the bathroom until the harsh trill of Patrice's phone timer ripped through space and time, again placing them smack dab in the middle of the present. 

When Terry reached to grab one of the tests after silencing the noise, Patrice jolted forward to grab his wrist. "Okay, wait!" she panted. "I-I'll grab one, and you'll grab one. Then we'll do the third one together. Does that make sense?"

"Alright. Which one do you want?" 

"I don't fuckin' know! Choose for me! I can't do this, TJ!" 

Terry wore a crooked smile as he calmly plucked two tests from their containers and placed the digital option into Patrice's palm face down. He took the analog test and covered the result with his thumb before swallowing the lump in his throat. 

A deep breath rushed through parted lips. "Turn it over on three. One, two…" 

Three never came for Patrice. Even after Terry had uttered the number and turned his test over slowly, Patrice kept her eyes closed, waiting for him to spill the beans. She couldn't bring herself to verify on her own accord. He'd have to be her eyes and ears. 

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, making the wait agonizing until Terry broke the seal. 

"Treecey," he called out. "Please look with me. I need you to see." 

A deep breath helped her blink her way back into clear eyesight. She didn't look at Terry or try to peek at the pink test in his hand. Instead, she flipped her test over with trembling fingers and stared at the small digital screen displaying a single word. 

"Oh –" was all she managed to choke out before looking up at Terry's beaming smile and tear-soaked face. "Does yours say –?" 

"Two lines, baby. Two!"

Disbelief gave way to unadulterated shock. "Oh. My. God. Look at the other one!" 

"You have to do it with me!"

Another countdown as they held on to the final test together preceded an excited flip and harmonizing reactions that could only be described as happy sobs. 

Patrice rocked Terry in a tight embrace while he clung to her, crying into her sweater's soft fabric more than he'd cried in years. An avalanche of emotions wrapped in disbelief that he'd been immeasurably blessed after his year started with so much strife. His losses came with gains ten times above what he could ask or think. 

His wife brushed tears from her already stained face before kissing the crown of his head and repeating, "You're gonna be a daddy, Pooh. You're gonna be a daddy!"

Emotions distorted his deep voice. "Swear?"

"Swear, baby. You're gonna be a daddy."

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, not caring who he disturbed. Then, he'd run down the hallways, through the lobby's doors, out into the cold D.C. air, and holler to anyone who would listen that his wife, the girl he fell in love with before he could legally drink, was carrying a child that might look just like him someday. 

But he couldn't get past sharing the excitement seemingly gushing out of his pores with the only other person who could understand his joy. He chose to lift Patrice up in the air as he stood tall, spinning her in a slow circle before gingerly placing her back on her feet and pressing his forehead against hers. 

"What the fuck," he laughed as he tickled her sides, causing her to giggle back. "I'm having a baby. With my baby!"

"I guess I couldn't beat teen pregnancy. My parents are going to be so disappointed in me." 

"Stop it." The thought of his parents sitting in their living room without a clue that their firstborn was miles away receiving such big news flipped on a light bulb in Terry's head. "Our parents! Should we call? We should call them now. Do you wanna do a group FaceTime or like a conference call or what?" 

Patrice watched Terry fumble around his pockets for his phone until he came up empty-handed and reached for hers. She pushed the device further away and shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Can we just…enjoy the news by ourselves tonight. I want it to be our secret a little longer. Is that okay?" 

"Of course, Piggy. Whatever you want. I'm sorry, I just - shit. This is insane. You have a baby in there. Should we tell them we're a party of three tonight at dinner?" 

"No," Patrice laughed, finding his unbridled excitement adorable. "If they cancel this reservation because you playin', me and you might have a problem, Daddy." 

Terry bit his lip and lowered his head to kiss at her neck. "Damn, I love hearing you say that. Say it again."

By the time they were approaching a swanky steakhouse on Patrice's long list of places to visit, she'd called him Daddy so much in jest that she almost told the hostess that that was the name on their reservation. 

Pockets of quiet conversation held over candlelight and crisp white tablecloths greeted them as they were led through the dimly lit restaurant to the table for the evening. Terry moved to pull out a chair for Patrice, but she stopped him with a kind smile. 

"I'm gonna run to the restroom. Mommy bladder is starting early. Order something cute for me?"

Her joke made Terry smile like a little boy until she was out of his sight and safely inside the ladies' room. 

Romantic jazz music oozing out of speakers concealed inside the walls like smooth red wine gave Patrice time to replay the day in her head, unable to contain the elation on her face as she washed her hands at the sink. 

Another woman, tall like a model and beautifully sepia-toned, applied lipstick in the mirror and noticed how she tried but failed to stop grinning. She smiled at Patrice before speaking. "You're glowing," she complimented. "I need whatever you've got going on tonight." 

Patrice chewed the inside of her cheek after a bashful thank you. She wanted to keep the words in and pleaded with herself to walk out of the restroom and return to Terry without uttering another word. 

"I'm pregnant," she blurted, unable to fight the urge. "My husband and I – he's the tall one out there waiting on me – we just found out that I'm pregnant. We were best friends over a decade ago, and I still can't believe we're married. Now, there's a baby inside me with half his DNA. I'm having a baby with Terry Richmond. Oh my God." The realization of her social blunder hit her like an 18-wheeler. "And I just told a stranger all my business. I am so sorry!" 

"No, no! That's incredible, girl! Can I hug you?"

Patrice didn't know why she obliged, but she did, allowing herself to sink into this woman's arms like she was an old friend and not someone whose name she didn't know. The woman rubbed her back and squeezed tight before pulling away. 

"Congratulations, sis. Happy Holidays." 

While Patrice received well wishes on the other side of the establishment, Terry gave his full attention to the cocktail menu as a server attempted to provide recommendations. 

"That one is a crowd favorite," the young man pointed out. "Is she a rum lover? It comes with top shelf Appleton Estate if so." 

Terry chuckled to himself. "She is, but she can't have any right now. We just found out she's pregnant before we got here." Further explanation caught in his throat. He didn't mean to offer up their secret. Excited Terry had done the talking, not calm and reserved Terry. 

He watched with wide eyes and an internal scolding rattling around the container of his mind as the server smiled and jotted a note on his pad. "First, congratulations! I'll note that to the staff and see if we can't do something special for you and your beautiful date. Second, no worries at all. We can turn that one into a mocktail and not lose too many of the flavor notes." 

"Thanks," Terry breathed out. "Hey, can you make sure you don't tell her I said that? It was supposed to be a secret." 

"Our lips are sealed, Mr. Richmond. Consider it a little something extra to celebrate the new year." 

Terry made a mental note to leave a handsome tip behind as Patrice reappeared from her time away. Her smile hypnotized him until she was close enough to remind him about her chair. He scrambled to his feet to take care of his duty, nervously pushing her to the table as if this were their first date. 

When he was back in his seat, he watched her survey the room and menu, taking in each of her features. 

High cheekbones passed down from a long line of majestic women. Soft, mahogany skin that mesmerized him in golden hour light every evening. Dark, expressive eyes that told the story of her inner thoughts, even when she tried to hide. Full lips he couldn't resist. The total package. Everything he hoped for was wrapped in one person. 

Terry sat across from her, smitten. His grin showcased all of his teeth and then some while she scanned the appetizers for something to satiate her peckishness. 

Prolonged silence made Patrice glance up and then double-take when she noticed Terry's one-sided staring contest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"Just trying to remember how you looked on the second most important night of our lives." 

Sudden bashfulness sent heat rushing to her face. "The third," Patrice corrected with a smile. "Don't leave out New Orleans." 

Terry chuckled at the memory. "Baby, the sun was barely in the sky when you decided to disturb the whole third floor."

"It was time to wake up anyway. That's what's wrong with the world now." 

Jokes and discussions about the possibility of dessert before dinner dominated the conversation until their server returned with two drinks meant to loosen their lips and hips for the evening. A subtle wink between Terry and the server communicated all he needed to know without tipping off Patrice as she excitedly watched beautifully decorated glasses hit the table. 

"To our first night out as Mom and Dad," Terry toasted, prompting Patrice to raise her glass. 

Mom and Dad—parents to be—two bodies forming one in a few months—a culmination of thousands of experiences leading them to a fate written before they were born. The concept sounded so foreign yet so familiar. 

Patrice dabbed at misty eyes, sniffling out a breathy, "To Mommy and Daddy." 

Glasses softly clinked before she joined Terry in a long sip and starry-eyed gazes across the table to officially kick off a night of celebration. 

Or so they'd hoped. Full bellies caught up with exhausted minds and bodies once silver forks hit clean porcelain plates well before their planned 10 p.m. exit. They tried to negotiate the next move with each other: a little walk for digestion, maybe a minute to listen to street performers play go-go renditions of oldies their parents would enjoy, perhaps another dessert to keep the mood high. 

All of their suggestions paled in comparison to hearing the mechanical whir of the hotel's lock precede the door swinging open to a warm room. There were no crowds trying to cram their bodies onto a rooftop brimming with eager folks anticipating good fortune as the clock flipped forward on a new year. There was only each other and the comfort of familiarity. 

Bottles of Sprite from the downstairs market acted like expensive bottles of bubbly poured into scavenged plastic cups next to a collection of fatty snacks, and cell phones switched to silent mode to avoid distractions. 

Terry and Patrice two-stepped hand in hand to jams playing from the television broadcast, dressed down in comfortable clothes and sporting ever-growing smiles. 

Under warm lamplight, Terry held Patrice's hand over her head to help her spin like a wind-up ballerina before pulling her close. "What were you doing last year around this time?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," she groaned, a sour look making her frown momentarily. "I was in a bathroom stall breaking up with my ex. Then Phee got us so drunk that we ended up blacked out before the countdown. I still don't know how we got back to her house or why we were cuddled up in her bed like that."

"Sounds like the kind of chaos you three get into when you're unsupervised."

"Whatever." Patrice laughed before making her fingers dance across Terry's broad shoulders. "What about you? What were you doing?"

Terry let a wry smile creep across his face. "Alone and sleeping. I didn't think there was much to look forward to, and I had to work in the morning anyway. Don't even think I turned the TV on."

The thought of Terry sleeping in on the night handpicked for blind optimism drew a sympathetic look from Patrice. "We both had a rough go at it, huh?"

"I don't know, mine was pretty chill. You were the one missing chunks of time." Patrice took faux offense at his joke, slapping across his chest before they let off laughs that slowly dissipated into a comfortable silence. 

Terry rested his head atop Patrice's, his mind taking a winding road back to the beginning while she hummed a made-up tune to herself. 

"Fifth-period Forensics with Mr. Turner. Junior year. You were wearing little strawberries crocheted on a pink sweater and your hair in a high ponytail. Kind of like tonight."

Patrice looked up and tilted her head in confusion. "What?"

"That's the moment I fell in love with you. I'd always liked you, but that's the moment I realized that I loved you," he clarified. "I spent so much time denying it, tiptoeing around how I felt and trying to find you in other women long after we were done, but I kept coming back to you acing that pop quiz in a pink strawberry sweater."

Patrice chuckled and smiled, recalling the time when her feelings blossomed beyond butterflies in her tummy at the mention of his name into a full-bodied, ever-present yearning for his heart. 

Terry waited expectantly, longing to know if there was a moment for Patrice – if her love had a spark that rocked her world the way she did so long ago for him. 

Flashes of bright light and distant cheering cut in just as Patrice seemed ready to confess, stealing her attention for a second too long. 

She gasped like a child on Christmas morning. "Look, baby! We can see the fireworks from here." Patrice tugged Terry along, all two hundred plus pounds of him yielding to her will slowly but surely. 

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Bright flashes of light turning into whimsical bursts kept him captivated as the clock ticked down the final minutes of the year. He slowly embraced her from behind, needing to feel her warmth combined with his for comfort. Patrice watched in content silence, smiling to herself while Terry watched the show unfold from the reflection in her glasses. 

Two minutes left. Two minutes to cap off a whirlwind 365 days and march triumphantly into a new slate. Two minutes to release long-forgotten truths buried in the recesses of Patrice's mind. She leaned back against Terry and craned her neck to admire him from her vantage point. 

A jawline fit for a man meant to be showcased to the world. Piercing eyes that shifted and changed with his emotions. Skin marked with blemishes telling countless stories – some he'd share and others that would follow him to the other side. Full pink lips that talked her through good, bad, and intimate times. All the features that might grace a child not yet named and growing in her womb.

"Senior prom night. You told me you loved me, and I said it back because I always said it back. But, that time, it felt different. It wasn't like sayin' it to my parents or my friends or the stray cat Mama let us feed. A different part of my heart meant it. That was the first moment."

Terry looked down at her, smirking and silently encouraging her to continue. She turned in his arms and then took hold of his ears to rub gentle circles against them. 

One minute left. Seconds dwindling. She continued. "The second time was today. And I hope there's a third, a fourth, and one hundred more to come. I never want to stop falling in love with you, TJ." 

Terry squeezed her a little tighter as if she might vaporize and blow away if he didn't hold on for dear life. "Yeah, me too," He whispered, drawing closer to her lips. "Never." 

Faint voices shouting a countdown in unison floated through empty streets and up to the 10th floor to surround a couple preparing to embark on a new journey. 

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…”

An excited buzzing, nearly perceptible by touch, sparked across the city. Heartfelt 'I love you's' shared as one breath passed between Terry and Patrice just before they connected lips and tongues. 

“Six…five…four…”

Colors painted their bodies from the window, bathing them in light one last time from January to December. A final salute from the Most High. 

"Three…two…one! Happy New Year!" 

Endless possibilities coated in an extra dose of magic felt real for the first time in forever. A lover's embrace carried hope and a promise. They'd start anew in lockstep the way the stars intended, with an extra set of fingers and toes to usher through life at some point in the future. 

But, for a moment, Terry and Patrice stood suspended in time, drunk off the taste of each other, ushering in the new year the only way they knew how. 

Together.

———————————

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[ylangelegy]

𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝙀𝙒𝙎. Kae Celebrates 1K Followers!

TUMBLR, YLANGELEGY — Kae (colloquially known as user ylangelegy) marks a thousand followers with a milestone event. This event will feature writing for groups SEVENTEEN and Stray Kids. Asks for the event will be open until January 25. More details under the cut. STATUS: OPEN.

Editor's Note: Requests for this event should be sent via my ask box. A separate masterlist will be made for all accomplished requests. Likewise, they will all be under the tag #📰 ylangelegy hits 1k. You can check out all my writing here.

Anon asks/requests are okay. Please only send one request per ask, and make distinction between the two Chans (Lee Chan/Bang Chan) that I write for.

📝 READ BETWEEN THE LINES.

Send an 📝 emoji with a member of SVT/SKZ + a prompt from this Soulmate AU Story Ideas post for a ficlet (less than 1,000 words). Your ask might look like this: "📝 Hyunjin & 'Because the universe is sadistic af, it only gave you the first letter of your soulmate’s name', please!"

📱 THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS.

Send an 📱 emoji with any verse from my SVT SMAU blog, @xinganhao, for a drabble (less than 500 words) or headcanons on that verse. My masterlist for xinganhao can be found here. Your ask might look like this: "📱 Would love to hear more about Spider-Woozi, please!"/"📱 Can we hear more about Minghao in 'svt detective x thief au'?"

📰 HOT OFF THE PRESS.

Send an 📰 emoji with a [fake] headline or title + any member of SKZ, and I'll write a ficlet (less than 1,000 words) for it. Your ask might look like this: "📰 Can we get Jisung with the title 'emails I can't send'?"/"📰 Felix + 'Stray Kids' Felix Wrapped Up In Dating Rumors With Olympic Athlete', please!"

🎤 OFF THE RECORD.

Send an 🎤 emoji with anything you want to know about me! ´･ᴗ･` My writing process, my resources, my life outside Tumblr, etc.

with love, kae 𓂃🖊 hey, hey, hey! this is all a little crazy to me, because i truly had no idea my silly little stories would reach the amount of people that it has ´◡` i'm grateful for every thoughtful ask/comment/reblog that i've gotten, and i hope to get to keep doing this with y'all for as long as you'll indulge me. thank you, everyone. to borrow from jihoon and seungcheol: take all of my happiness! i hope you're happier than me today!~

[noxusstrap]

"I'll Get It Right This Time" An Ekko Time-Travel Fix It Fic

Ok so Hi! This is my first time ever dipping my toes into Tumblr posting besides just coming on here and reading some godly one-shots.

Im posting my fic here, as well as AO3, just in case!

Hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTER I : THE BOY WHO SHATTERED TIME

Ekko felt like he was gonna hurl.

 Heimerdinger wasn't supposed to- he wasn't supposed to sacrifice himself like that, Powder wasn't supposed to come in during the process, wasn't supposed to see the real him, and he was so sure he wasn't supposed to see the expression she made at him so full of Love and Affection; but it all happened and he didn't know what to do now. He always thought himself to be the most sensible and sane of his former friends; but, now? Now he just wants to go back to his Jinx and save his people.

But the Universe had other plans.

He felt the hairs on his neck begin to stand up and he instinctively knew. The Hex Core was acting up, and he didn't know what to do. All it took was a single glance at the Z-Drive before everything went white.

_____

The first thing he could feel was the paved road beneath him, followed by the sounds of a bustling street and that distinct smell of Home.

It worked. 

Ekko sat up and silently cheered.

He was back! Only-

He paused and looked around, and everything was bigger than what he remembers, and that's when he noticed it; his hands were tiny. His child-like hands were just barely hanging onto the Z-Drive, or rather, what remained of it. The Hexcore glowed softly within the now shattered confinements of the Z-drive. The monkeys seemingly rusted like they've been used for decades rather than just a handful of times and all he could do was stare.

Oh Janna.

The device worked alright, but it worked too well, now; he's stuck in the past with no way back to the future.

It was supposed to only be four seconds…HOW COULD IT HAVE THROWN HIM OVER A DECADE TO THE PAST?!

“Fuck,” he sighed, just barely stopping himself from banging his head against the alley wall; he wasnt going to look a gifted horse in the mouth; he had gotten a once-in-a-lifetime chance and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. First things first, he had to figure out what day he was sent back to, and more importantly, what can he prevent from happening this time around to benefit the future?

Just as he was about to take a step out of the alley, he paused. He took a small glance at the Z-Drive; it was too big to disguise it as anything, and it would look suspicious if a small little child was carrying a device that looked like it could be worth millions even though it was severely damaged. He looked around, ducking between the dumpsters in the alley before finding a satchel, it was big enough to hold the broken Z-Drive but not big enough to arouse suspicion.

Ekko hummed, put the machine in the satchel and made his way out of the alley.

_____

His body instinctively carried him to Benzo’s Pawn Shop though his mind was absent, stirring with thoughts and possibilities of a different future, one where Jinx, Vi, Vander, and everyone else are still alive and well; it was dangerous to hope for that future. (he wanted to hope so so so badly-)

His thoughts come to a halt when they reach Jayce and his dear friend and partner, Viktor. He knew there was a universe out there where Hextech was never invented and it was an almost perfect world; of course he would know, he lived through it.

He paused right at the entrance of the shop, everything he could hear around him quieted to a light hum.

Just because Hextech went bad in one future doesn't mean we can't have good Hextech ideas and innovations. We just have to stop whatever the fuck Viktor did with the Hexcore; whatever it was. And- maybe bring Heimerdinger into this mess he made.

Ekko smirked and pushed open the doors. The ding of the bell rang resolutely throughout the small shop, and his false bravado fades as quickly as it appeared.

What if Benzo’s already Dead?

What if I arrived so much later than I predicted?

Was Powder still Powder?

Is Vander still Alive?

What if-

“Hey little man, where have you been all day, ey?” 

Ekko slowly looked towards the back of the shop, where the noise originated from. He knew that voice; he knew it better than anyone, but he couldn't just let himself hope before seeing him for himself.

He clutched the straps of the satchel holding the Z-Drive and took a single step towards the back room, before he could take another, a hand emerged from the back. He KNEW that hand.

And then he saw him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to the shop, you just ran off and it’s dan-” Benzo gets cut off by Ekko slamming into his stomach at nearly sub-human speeds for a hug. He stumbles slightly, taken aback at the sheer strength Ekko showed, and lightly chuckled. “Woah there! Almost made me fall there, when did you get so strong Little Man!” He teases. 

Ekko let out an inaudible whimper, tightened his hold just a little more before releasing Benzo.

“Always been this strong Benzo.” Ekko’s voice miraculously kept an even tone despite everything in him wanting to cry and bury his face into the arms of his pseudo-father.

Benzo knew something was bothering Ekko, and he knew it had something to do with whatever he was carrying in that satchel of his, but chose not to pry, he could tell me what's going on if he really wanted me to know, he reasoned. Instead, he nuzzled Ekko’s hair and hummed, nodding to himself before slowly making his way to the back of the store.

“Listen kid-” Benzo stops in his tracks and calls over his shoulder, “Whatever you do, just be safe.” He smiles, and with that, he leaves. Ekko tries to get his body to move, to do anything, but it refused to listen. All he could do was watch the man he admired so much go back to his work.

Calm down, you need to calm down,Ekko chided himself, trying to psych himself up.

Everything’s okay, Benzo being here means Vander hasn't died yet, that means Claggor and Mylo are still alive and Power is still Powder. Ekko looked around the various shelves of knick knacks and useful items, his eyes gliding through them before stopping on a particular piece of hardware. It looked familiar, but where had he seen it before?

He narrowed his eyes, his mind fixated on this one piece; he knew this was before the deaths of everyone he loved but why was this specific piece of scrap ringing some sort of bell in his brai-

It was the last piece Jayce bought from them to complete his work.

Ekko felt bells frantically go off in his head; this means he was sucked back two months before Jayce’s apartment got blown up, two months before Ekko told anyone about the young scholar he scammed over the last couple of mechanisms needed to complete a project, two months was all he got to work with.

He cursed silently, his mind scrambling to make a cohesive plan with the amount of time he had at his disposal. If he could fix the Z-Drive, it would make his life so much easier, but as he took a single glance into the satchel, he decided it was best to leave that particular project on the back burner for now. He wouldn't even know where to begin with the Z-Drive without Heimerdinger's help, and even then, this wasn't his Heimerdinger anymore, this wasn't the brilliant Professor casted out of the Council; this isn't the Professor who found solace and companionship within the Firelights; this isn't the professor who sacrificed everything for him to be here right now.

Speaking of the Firelights, would they even be able to form now that he’s trying to fix everything? Would he be willing to establish the Firelights again for the sake of providing a sanctuary for the people of the Lanes? Oh without a doubt. But, he muses, it would be a couple of years from now that it would happen; for now, he needed to think of what to do, and he needed to write it down fast.

He scrambled to his little hideout on top of the shop, his fingers gliding through the first piece of paper he could find at lightning speeds, his mind running a hundred miles a minute, trying to formulate a plan that's feasible in two months, or 8 weeks, or if you really want to get technical, 1,460 hours. When he stopped writing, his hand was cramping, seemingly bruised from all the back and forth on the paper, but his mind was clear and his heart was finally beginning to hope for a better future this time around.

EKKO’S PLAN FOR ABSOLUTE WORLD DOMINATION (SAVING EVERYONES ASSES)

Stop Silco from mass producing Shimmer (Stop Silco in general by ANY means necessary) ((I want whatever they had in the Other world to happen here))

DON'T LET POWDER BECOME JINX! (maybe recruit her in his plans?) ((who is this ‘Isha’ girl I keep seeing in my dreams of my reality? Was she real? Why was she with Jinx?))

Prevent Jayce from fucking things up this time around (maybe help out with his experiments? Perhaps give him a reason to not fuck up the trade with Zaun with the Hexgates?)

Never let Claggor and Mylo die this time around. (They deserve a better future than what they got)

Get Heimerdinger to help turn Zaun into a Utopia (he mentioned doing so much in such little time? Was he the one who made Zaun a better place?)

Re-Establish the Firelights in case things go awry.

Fix the Z-Drive whenever possible (I don't want it to malfunction and bring more problems with it)

He looked at the now hung plan on his wall. He had two months to do everything on his list, and if they tried to stop him, he would make it EVERYONE'S problem. He knew the first thing on his agenda was regrettably the most time-consuming; but he couldn't afford to waste more time. He had to find a way to stop Silco even if it meant killing the guy, (he knew he had some good in him; he saw it in the alternate timeline, if he could just figure out what cause him to turn good in that timeline, it would make his life so much eas-). He had everything on the line, and he wasn't going to LOSE this time.

Let the games begin. Ekko smirked.

Am I gonna go insane writing this? Oh ABSOLUTELY!

Do I Care? FUCKKKKKK NOOOOOO!!!!!

Let me know what yall think; its my first time posting kinda nervy..

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

“Det Modsatte” (Angst?)

2003!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: Felt like writing another songfic, as I’m honestly having a blast with these. I’ve also been looking at was to add the songs in my post, so you can listen to it, or at least parts of it, but it’s still a working process. So far I’ve started with a snippet from Spotify at the bottom of the post, for those of you that are interested. Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy🧡

Song: “Det Modsatte” by Mumle.

Danish song with English translation provided. "Det modsatte" means "the opposite".

Due to American drinking laws, all characters are at least 21.

Warnings: Horrible girlfriend?, smoking, cheating?

Til nytårsaften / Det første møde med / Dit nye vedhæng og hendes attitude / Hun siger dig ingenting / Så hvorfor skal hun med? / Jeg hader, at hun tror, at du en dag ku' glemme mig.

(At New Year’s Eve / For the first meeting with / Your new pendant and her attitude / She doesn’t tell you anything / So why does she have to come? / I hate that she thinks that you one day could forget me).

After making friends with four mutant turtles, with the youngest of them becoming your best friend shortly afterward, you pretty much expected anything to happen at that point. But even after several years of friendship, with you and Michelangelo pretty much doing everything together, there was one thing you didn’t expect.

But then, as you, the turtles and all your mutual friends were planning a New Year’s party at April and Casey’s place, Mikey dropped the news on you: Mikey had gotten a girlfriend, and he wanted to bring her for the party.

At first you were shocked - more so shocked at the strange pit that was forming inside your stomach. But you pushed it aside, smiling at Mikey, telling that you were excited to meet his new girlfriend. if she made your best friend happy, it was worth getting along with her for him. Especially given the nature of Mikey and his brothers, partners most likely didn’t come easy to them. So you decided to give it your best shot. Who knows, maybe she would be really nice.

New Year finally came around, with fireworks shooting outside the windows of April and Casey’s apartment. Mikey arrived a bit later than the rest, with his new girlfriend following with her arm linked with him. And og boy, she was… something. You didn’t want to judge a book by its cover, but she was… not what you had expected. Especially not for someone like Mikey. She smiled way less than him, and ever once seemed to enjoy any of his jokes. At one point you swore you could hear Mikey whispering to her, asking her what was wrong, to which she gave him a sharp and dragged out “nothing”.

As the night continued on, something became very clear to you regarding Mikey’s girlfriend. She wouldn’t let you and Mikey talk at any point during the party. You really couldn’t help but notice the way she always seemed to place herself between you and Mikey, cutting off your conversations. But when you caught a sharp look from her, it was very clear what she thought of you. She did not want you anywhere near her boyfriend - your best friend.

Og hendes synspunkt er noget for sig selv / Får appetit ude, og så spiser hun hjemme / Er du nu sikker på / At du ka' stole på hende? / Men når kalenderen er fyldt, når det bli'r midnat.

(Her viewpoint is something for itself / Gets an appetite out, and then she eats at home / Are you sure / That you can trust her? / But when the calendar is filled, when it becomes midnight).

As the New Year’s party went on, one thing became very clear - Mikey’s new girlfriend had very different ways of viewing the world from those of Mikey. While Mikey was happy and warm, with a bright smile, and a love for hearing what other people had going on, she was closed of and cold, her resting expression looking like she purposely tried to create something that could best be described as a resting bitch face, and a total disregard for what other people were saying. She even looked like she was bored when she heard you or the others talk, only lighting up ever so slightly when Mikey spoke. But even that wasn’t much.

It got to the point where you and the others shot each other looks, as if you all were thinking the same about her, wondering why Mikey would want to get involved with that. It almost spilled over to outright rage, when you overheard her asking Mikey if he could come and cook for her after the party, while you all ate the dinner April had made for you, with Mikey’s girlfriend not having touched any of it.

Mikey, who was still eating when his girlfriend asked if he could cook for her, seemed slightly confused, yet not catching on to what was happening at the table. He offered to cook for her the next day instead, to which she told him - with a pointed look - that she had other plans. That didn’t go unnoticed by anybody, with a slight awkward tension building around the table. But still Mikey didn’t seem to notice, nor did he seem to notice the irritation the girl as his side was causing you. And just as you found the girl irritating, you found Mikey’s seeming oblivion frustrating.

For du ved ikk' hvor hun er, når hun ikke er derhjemme / Så når du finder ud af hvor, ska' du høre det igen.

(Because you don’t know where she is, when she isn’t at home / So when you find out where, you’re going to hear it again).

You and the others’ first meeting with Mikey’s girlfriend wasn’t much of a success, yet he didn’t seem to notice, or chose not to. Nor did he seem to notice the death stars she gave you, whenever you hung out with him. But with Mikey suddenly wanting to spend time with his girlfriend, during the periods of time she finally declared that she had time for him, you didn’t see your best friend as much as you used to. But that didn’t stop you from hanging out with his brothers in the lair. Just because Mikey was your best friend, it didn’t mean that you weren’t very close with his older brothers.

One day you found yourself in the lair, playing video games with Mikey’s brothers. It was fun. You were laughing and enjoying yourselves, when Mikey suddenly came in, looking confused and somewhat distracted, staring at his phone with an unsure expression.

You asked him what was wrong, watching as Mikey seemed more and more anxious. That was not a common sight for someone like Mikey, and it honestly made you nervous. But then Mikey asked if you or any of his brothers had heard from his girlfriend. He didn’t know where she was, and she wasn’t answering his calls and texts.

“Again?”, Raph asked. “I thought you talked it out with her last week, after she turned that same trick on you”.

“It’s not a trick”, Mikey said, checking his phone again for a text or a call that still hadn’t gone through. “She’s… just hard to reach sometimes”.

“Yeah, she’s just hard to reach”, Donnie mumbled, giving Mikey a flat expression, as if to tell him that he believed very little in that statement. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Mikey when you saw how his expression faltered for a moment, before looking down at his phone, with still no notifications.

Hun er det modsatte af alt, du ku' ha' tænkt dig / For hun skider på principper, som du altid har haft / Så når du tænder sidste smøg, inden I tager hjem / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til-.

(She’s the opposite of all, you could have wanted / She shits on principles, that you’ve always had / So when you light your last smoke, before you go home / You should remember, I will never get used to-).

After Mikey got a girlfriend, it was actually quite hard for you to spend time with him like you used to. He was very often busy with plans, with her for some reason only being able to see him, the times you and he would usually hang out. You had little doubt as to why, but Mikey still didn’t seem to notice how his girlfriend purposely tried to make it hard for the two of you to hang out, changing her plans the moment she heard he was going to see you. To everybody else other than Mikey, that she was trying to keep you apart. But she couldn’t always do that.

Once again April had a celebration at her and Casey’s place, meaning that you and the turtles were invited over for a few drinks, good vibes and maybe a few board games. Mikey’s girlfriend couldn’t be there. She had some kind of plans with some of her friends, and that was all she told Mikey.

It was nice. It was fun. You laughed and joked, and you even had a great time with Mikey. But suddenly, Mikey’s phone started ringing. It was her. Mikey excused himself, before walking away from the table you had been playing board games at, picking up the phone. It wasn’t long into the phone conversation, before Mikey stepped out on April and Casey’s fire escape, to continue the phone call. Not a word to you or the others.

After some time, you started to feel worried for Mikey. And so, you decided to go out and check on him. You found him out on the fire escape, elbows on the railing and his shoulders slouching, a lit cigarette between two of his three fingers on his right hand. You stopped for a moment. You have never known Mikey to smoke, so why was he suddenly doing that? Was it something she had gotten him into? You couldn’t find any other explanation. She always smelled of smoke and her voice was harsh, as if she had been smoking 20 a day.

“Is everything okay?”, you asked, leaning against the brick wall.

Mikey hesitated for a moment, taking a drag from the cigarette. You really didn’t like that sight. That was not the Mikey you knew. There was no smile, a strong contrast to the Mikey you had played board games with just moments ago in April and Casey’s apartment. He looked stressed, and you wondered if she was the reason why.

“She had a fight with her friends and is all out of it. When I’m done with this I’ll be heading to her place to make sure everything’s okay”, Mikey said, nodding toward the cigarette in his hand. You nodded, nervously biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t have asked, but you did anyway.

“Did she get you into smoking?”

Mikey froze for a moment, before looking down at the tobacco in his hand. He did not answer you, but gave you a small shrug. You took that as a yes.

Hendes humor og syge energi / Og når du tror på, at hun kunne være min gode veninde / Så når du spørger om, jeg vil hjælpe med at finde en ring / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til hende.

(Her humor and sick energy / And when you believe, that she could be my good friend / So when you ask me, if I want to help you find a ring / You should remember, I will never get used to her).

You and Mikey stood in silence on the fire escape, with Mikey’s cigarette only growing shorter and shorter with each drag of it.

“You know”, Mikey suddenly said, breaking the silence. “Maybe you two should hang out one day. Maybe you could become good friends”.

You were shocked at Mikey’s idea. Had he really not noticed the way she looked at you? Had he really not noticed how she would do almost anything, to make sure that you and your best friend wouldn’t spend time alone together? Was Mikey really that blinded by her?

“What makes you say that?”, you asked. But when Mikey started avoiding your eyes, you became worried. “Mikey, what’s going on?”

“I just thought it would be great for you to get to know each other, before…”, Mikey flattered, seeming nervous with what he was about to say.

“Before what?”, you asked, pressing him further.

“Before I ask you to help me find a ring”, Mikey finally let out, still not looking at you.

Hun er det rene vanvid, når I er alene / Den mørke sandhed, for kaos jagter hende / Og starter kappestrid / Som du ikk' kan vinde / Når det ender, ka’ jeg smil’, og sige "hva' sagde jeg?"

(She’s pure madness, when you’re alone / The dark truth, because chaos is hunting her / And starts battles / Which you can not win / When it ends, can I smile, and say “what did I say?”)

It was as if that comment snapped something inside of you. Up until that point you had kept your opinion to yourself, feeling bad for Mikey whenever his brothers would make comments about his girlfriend, thinly wailing what they really thought about her. But now, that last bit of barrier was not enough to stop you anymore.

“You can’t be serious”, you said, sounding quite a bit harsher than what you had intended to.

Mikey looked at you, seeming somewhat shocked by tone, as if he truly hadn’t thought you would react like that. “What do you mean?”

“You’re telling me that you seriously don’t see what she’s doing?”, you asked, feeling your last bits of patience disappear. Mikey frowned, seemling forgetting the cigarette that was halfway up to his mouth. “Mikey, she’s the complete opposite of you”.

“Sometimes opposites attract”, Mikey said, shrugging his shoulders, still seeming confused.

“You can’t be serious”, you said, finally letting your build up frustrations out. “Mikey, she’s not good for you. She’s never been good for you. Hell, she even got you smoking to cope with the stress of being with her! She won’t even let me hang out with you, and you really don’t seem to care or notice! Your brothers see it, and I know if you think about it a little longer, you will see how they have been hinting at it over and over again. So no Mikey, I don’t want to become her friend, and I don’t want to help you look for a ring! And if I have to be absolutely honest, I think she’s mad. I think she’s a horrible human being, and I often wonder why someone as nice and wonderful as you would get with her in the first place!”

Mikey didn’t say a word. Instead he stared at you for a moment, his mouth parted in shock. He looked hurt, yet there was something in his eyes. Something that kept him from getting mad at you, but instead actually thought of what you had told him.

Mikey dropped his cigarette, before turning towards the railing, mumbling something along the lines, that he would go check on his girlfriend.

“Go ask her about it”, you said before Mikey could make his way off the fire escape. “Ask her about it and see what she says”.

Mikey didn’t say anything. Instead he sat on the railing for a moment, before taking a jump, disappearing into the night, heading for her apartment.

For du ved ikk' hvor hun er, når hun ikke er derhjemme / Så den dag hun stikker af, ska' du høre det igen.

(Because you don’t know where she is, when she isn’t at home / So the day she runs away, you’re going to hear it again).

It wasn’t long after that you decided to go home yourself, suddenly feeling very tired after your talk with Mikey. The others seemed very understanding of your sudden departure, having heard your emotional outburst at Michelangelo. Even Leonardo came and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder with a small smile, as a way to say that he understood. You did the thing many of them had been too scared to do.

You got home, feeling absolutely drained, kicking off your shoes before dropping down on the couch, rubbing your forehead with a sigh. You started to wonder if this was it. Was this the end of your friendship with Michelangelo? Would he go home to his girlfriend and decide to cut you out? Would he listen to her and whatever crazy reasons she had for not liking you? That was at least what you feared.

It was there, sitting in your own unsurety and fear, that your phone started ringing, the name of your orange clad friend lighting up your screen. Confused and slightly concerned you picked up the phone, holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey…”, Mikey’s voice sounded on the other side, slightly out of breath, wavering a bit. “Can I come over?”

“Why? What happened?”, you asked, feeling worried for your friend.

“I- I tried to talk to her”, Mikey said. “And then she left. Can I please come over?”

Hun er det modsatte af alt, du ku' ha' tænkt dig / For hun skider på principper, som du altid har haft / Så når du tænder sidste smøg, inden I tager hjem / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til- / Hendes humor og syge energi / Og når du tror på, at hun kunne være min gode veninde / Så når du spørger om, jeg vil hjælpe med at finde en ring / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til hende.

(She’s the opposite of all, you could have wanted / She shits on principles, that you’ve always had / So when you light your last smoke, before you go home / You should remember, I will never get used to- / Her humor and sick energy / And when you believe, that she could be my good friend / So when you ask me, if I want to help you find a ring / You should remember, I will never get used to her).

There was an awkward silence when Mikey entered through your window. He just kind of stood there, his head low, his eyes avoiding you. But the awkward silence didn’t last long before you offered him a seat next to you on the couch. He in turn gave you a weak smile, before heading to sit next to you. Here Mikey sat in silence, staring at his hands, as you asked him what was going on.

“I did as you said”, Mikey finally said, his voice small and low, as if he was scared of what would happen if he spoke.

“And what did she say?”, you asked, keeping your voice soft and low.

“She got… very mad and started screaming”, Mikey said, dragging a hand over his face. “She ended up leaving the apartment. I don’t know where she is right now”.

Du ku' ha' valgt en kassedame eller hjernekirurg / Du ku' ha' valgt en dealer på det store casino / Du ku' ha' sunget hele natten med en sangerinde / Og alligevel valgt' du hende.

(You could have chosen a cashier or brain surgeon / You could have chosen a dealer at the big casino / You could have been singing all night with a singer / And you still chose her).

“I’m sorry to hear that”, you said, honestly feeling bad for your terrapin friend.

“No you aren’t”, Mikey said in a strange chuckle, still not looking at you. “According to you, this is probably the best thing that could happen”.

“Mikey”, you said, turning your whole body towards him. “Just because I don’t like her, it doesn’t mean that I can empathize with you”. Mikey momentarily glanced at you through the corner of his eye. It was not a harsh look, not a side eye by any means, but more of a cautionary look, looking at your body language to make sure that you were speaking the truth. “My frustrations probably got the best of me, and I didn’t say it to you the right way, but what I was meaning to say, is that you can do so much better, Mikey. She isn’t good for you, but you’re amazing Mikey”. You placed a hand on his shoulder, watching the both of them lose their tension. “You could have anyone, Mikey. You could choose anyone, and yet you chose her. And that made me sad. I really don’t understand how or why you got with her in the first place, but it made me sad to watch you with her, seeing how she treated you, me and your brothers. My intention was never to make you feel bad, but to help you. Maybe I should have said something sooner, but it felt wrong, but today I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’m so sorry if I hurt your feelings, it was never-”.

Hun er det modsatte af alt, du ku' ha' tænkt dig / For hun skider på principper, som du altid har haft / Så når du tænder sidste smøg, inden I tager hjem / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vender mig til / Hendes humor og syge energi / Og når du tror på, at hun kunne være min gode veninde / Så når du spørger om, jeg vil hjælpe med at finde en ring / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til hende.

(She’s the opposite of all, you could have wanted / She shits on principles, that you’ve always had / So when you light your last smoke, before you go home / You should remember, I will never get used to- / Her humor and sick energy / And when you believe, that she could be my good friend / So when you ask me, if I want to help you find a ring / You should remember, I will never get used to her).

You were suddenly cut off by the feeling of Mikey’s soft lips against your, his hands on the sides of your head, titling you ever so slightly. You let out a small startled sound, but found yourself relaxing against him shortly after.

Mikey’s lips were soft and molded against your perfectly. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been wondering about how Mikey’s lips would have felt against yours. In fact, you had done that several times. Yet you had always pushed that thought to the back of your mind, acting like it had never been there in the first place. But now, here you sat with Michelangelo on your couch, your lips connected together, all these hidden thoughts came back in full force.

Your lips moved together in soft motions, the world around you forgotten with your arms wrapped around each other. That was when Mikey’s phone started ringing, causing the two of you to separate.

Mikey pulled out his phone with an annoyed sigh, when he saw the name of the last person he wanted to talk to lighting up on the screen. Yet he picked not, not trying to hide his annoyance in the slightest.

“What do you want?”, he asked annoyed, one of his arms still around you. You tried not to smile, when you saw him roll his eyes at the voice on the other side, as she asked him about something, while complaining about something else. “Yeah, figure that out yourself. We’re done”, Mikey said before hanging up, tossing his phone somewhere on the couch, ignoring it as it started ringing again. You and Mikey soon found that it was easy to ignore a ringing phone when your lips was engaged.

[rainystressed247]

Ohhhh!! Can we talk about the Pokemon AU?? What ideas do you have for professors and gym leaders? What about a regional champion?? I 100% think that Techno is the regional champion and Phil could be either a professor or part of the Elite 4! Tommy can be the scrappy teen that is trying to accomplish the gym challenges and try to fight Techno for the title! Dream can be his unofficial mentor the one that comes by when things get tricky with the evil team and then had a dramatic twist of “he is the villain but actually not, he is just a tragic figure”

*crack my back and rise* Be prepared for a long post because I have a lot of them in my brain.

Original pokemon AU (base plan):

The original headcanon I had for the pokemon AU is more based around cc!Dream with a dash of drama from canon linked here! You are absolutely right that Techno is the champion and has and will continue to challenge and enter competition even outside of his region! Phil can absolutely be one of the professors! He can be invested in the study of fossil or death >.< The gym leaders are pretty loose as I don't give much thoughts to that tbh, but I do think that Tina as grass leader, Puffy as water, etc. Maybe I will throw in the newer mafia, who knows? I definitely see Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo as the trio working their way through gym challenges, stumbling into villain organisation and accidentally saving the world hahaha.

Dream in this AU is more laid back, not liking to battle but his pokemon has maxed out friendship and can definitely rain hell on any trainers foolish enough to approach with ill intention. He works in a pokemon daycare during his free time and will give out friendship eevee for those close to him. His care to the pokemon means that most of the eevees have good EV! He definitely gets dragged into the plot unknowingly, much to the dismay of his close friends.

This AU is mostly chill and just shenanigans!

The B side of the Pokemon AU:

This, this is the part where things start to derail for me because if I can have a pokemon AU based on the cc why not go all the way to c!Dream as well.

So this is an alternate Pokemon AU involving c!character. In this side of the AU, c!Dream still possess the revival book and because of that, he forces himself to release all his pokemon with the intention to perish witht the revival book. In the process of destroying the book, he accidentally intergrate the book with himself so we now have an immortal walking revival book that is Dream. Worried that he and any of his close ones will get targeted, he devoted himself a life of a lone hermit and proceed to travel the land in hope to find a way to truly end his existence. He does, however, perform small miracle act subtly whenever he passes by someone or some pokemon in need of help as a way to atone for his sins. He makes sure to do it discreetly so that he would not gather unintended attention.

Alas, sometimes people still put two to two together so he still occasionally gets targeted. What he doesn't know is that most of the people he helped one way or another, does in fact help cover up his trail, misleading any hunters after him. Dream has one pokemon willingly follow him; a stubborn Charcadet, which prove to be a good helper by saving Dream multiple time in their travel.

Dream can hold his own against pokemons in this AU. He kinda has to, as he doesn't have a companion pokemon of his own for the longest time. Phil, as the angel of Death or the guardian in pokemon term is actively tracking down Dream to detain the revival book, but after he witness the bond between Dream and Ceruledge, he let Dream go with the condition that should Dream one day run into any problem bigger than he could handle, he would find Phil to help.

Techno is one of the child Dream helped revive on a whim. He was born sickly and wasn't supposed to make it past the night, well, if Dream hasn't shown up like a wet cat on his doorway. Techno still makes fun of him on the off chance that they met. Because of the second chance, Techno was able to become an extraordinary trainer. He helps out Dream whenever he can and even offer a roof for the homeless Dream to stay in. Dream refused ofc, but he would crash in from time to time to rest.

Speaking of the B side, it leads to an uncontrollable spiral in which I start imagining Pokemon with any and most of my AUs. Like would syndicate!Dream has an Eevee as well or would he has a Arcanine, I can totally see him accidentally taming Zygrade (Dog) without knowing it as a legendary. Also witch!Dream would have a Hatterene. Cornelius can have a Floette, Hubert and Indeedee works because of the bulter theme. Can you see how I am absolutely normal and not being able to talk about this has only made me more normal?

Anyways, thanks for the ask and sorry for taking so long to reply. It is...a lot.

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[faaun]

whenever i think/talk abt a "you" it's at least 5 different people usually

[yoihino]

So the author of a webcomic I really really love stopped updating after a seasons finale 2 years ago and the last post in any of his social media is in instagram stating that season 3 was in production and that it would not be long until they started updating again. That was a year ago. So.

[alchemiclee]

4 and 20 for the Artist Ask Game! 👀

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

not sure about character...but subject? probably poses/anatomy in general. still bad at it. brain can't quite comprehend shapes lol all the anatomy tutorials just go in one ear/eye and out the other. no brain process in between 😅 same with lighting/shadows. basic art things make me trip and fall

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

eyes?? do people think eyes are hard? I always enjoyed doing eyes. maybe hair. hair is fun but i've seen many people say it's hard

[malusokay]

5 Classics for girly girls 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Emily of New Moon

The bittersweet process of growing up and finding where you truly belong... The perfect read for the start of a new school year. After her father’s death, Emily Starr is sent to live with her snobbish relatives at New Moon farm. Thrust into an unfamiliar and often cold environment, Emily faces numerous challenges. However, as time passes, she begins to adapt and discovers the beauty in her surroundings. With the support of her new friends—Teddy, Perry, and Ilse—Emily not only finds solace but also discovers her own creative talents, helping her carve out a place for herself in this new chapter of her life.

“If it's IN you to climb you must -- there are those who MUST lift their eyes to the hills -- they can't breathe properly in the valleys.”

Jane Eyre

A true classic for all my fellow gothic-lit enthusiasts, Jane Eyre, reminds us that everyone deserves a love that consumes, challenges, and transforms the very core of your being, offering both profound joy and deep heartache (we love a good situationsship). Following Jane Eyre, an orphaned and mistreated girl who endures a harsh upbringing but grows into a strong, independent woman. As she takes a position as a governess at Thornfield Hall, she encounters the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, sparking a profound and tumultuous romance. Their intense connection is marred by secrets and personal demons, revealing the complexities of their relationship.

“Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." "I am no bird, and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”

The Secret Garden

Mary Lennox, a spoiled and neglected girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents. Initially ill-tempered and withdrawn, Mary’s curiosity is sparked by rumours of a hidden, abandoned garden on the estate. As she explores and begins to restore this secret garden, she experiences a beautiful shift (glow-up era). The once gloomy and sickly Mary starts to bloom alongside the garden, rediscovering happiness, vibrancy, and a sense of belonging, making the story a heartwarming tale of growth and recovery.

“At first, people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done--then it is done, and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.”

Pride and Prejudice

Truly a classic that has shaped my romantic expectations hahah... Elizabeth Bennet battles societal expectations and her own misjudgments in 19th-century England. When the aloof Mr Darcy (he'd totally be a ghoster in the 21st century just saying...) first crosses her path, their initial encounters are fraught with tension and misunderstanding. However, as Elizabeth delves deeper, she uncovers the complexities of Darcy’s character and her own heart.

“I could no longer help saying that I loved him. I loved him not only for his sake but for his own sake. I loved him because he was the only person who had ever really loved me for myself. I loved him because he had made me feel that I was worthy of being loved.”

The Little Prince

A young, otherworldly prince from a tiny planet travels across the universe, meeting various inhabitants and learning profound life lessons. His journey brings him to Earth, where he encounters a stranded pilot and shares his reflections on love, loss, and the essence of human connections. Through whimsical adventures and encounters, The Little Prince explores the importance of seeing with the heart rather than the eyes and reminds us of the value of friendship and innocence.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched; they are felt with the heart.”

you guys asked for more academia/book stuff so I thought this might be a nice start, especially since I know that many of you are just getting into classics; these are all very much suitable for beginners!! <3

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒 ꕥ MAX VERSTAPPEN

summary. celebrating max’s 4th title was not in your plans.

warnings. piastri!reader, max is kinda obsessed with reader, public s3x (?), unprotected pinv, fingering, just straight up dirty.

gabri speaks! i’ve been thinking about mexico gp max and las vegas sealed the deal for me.

THERE’S A BRIEF moment of silence, of anticipation, and of complete confusion. The DJ had paused the setlist less than an hour in announcing there was a special guest appearance. Then as if on cue tonight’s race is plastered on the giant screen behind him and the words, “Max Verstappen,” echo throughout the nightclub. You resist the urge to roll your eyes knowing someone might be recording you, or your brother at least.

“I thought he was flying back?” You cover your mouth with your hand as you talk with your brother.

“I thought so too.” Your brother hums in your ear trying to hide his annoyed tone. Your brother got along with Max just fine but all he wanted was one night without F1 getting mentioned.

You on the other hand…

You’d only been in the paddock a handful of times but every race weekend you had managed to have the worst encounter with the dutch man. The first time had been incidentally, you faintly recall the energy drink splashing all over your new dress. You knew from the get go that it had been an accident but when Max didn’t as so much as a muster a quick sorry and instead went on his way you had no choice but to hate him.

“He’s such a dick.” You murmur to yourself unaware your brother catches your words.

“Be nice.” Oscar motions towards the countless people recording him.

“I’m gonna get another drink.” You sigh.

The music resumes and you find yourself into a crowd of dancing couples. Your short orange dress sticks to you as you walk towards the bar. It’d been a long night with your brother not getting the result he hoped for. The post race recap inside the garage had been brutal as well. You had watched as the championship slipped from Lando’s hands and Max claimed victory once again. It had been the worst two hours of your life to say the least. You’re way too frustrated to even notice the man approaching you. In a split second you’re covered in something that smelled similar to…

“Asshole.” You mumble.

“Mini Piastri?” He gasps dramatically. “Why are you here? I wouldn’t think you’d be celebrating after tonight.”

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” You scoff. “Does it Max?”

“I’d argue that it does actually. Considering your mood, you’d be happier if your little boyfriend had actually managed to have a good race.” He taunts you.

“Look, can you get out of my way? I have to go clean up the mess you made.” You point towards the huge spots of alcohol on your dress.

You don’t even wait for him to respond before pushing past him, brushing shoulders in the process, to head straight to the bathroom. You do your best to dodge those who already have had a bit too much to drink, unaware that the dutchman is right behind you. It’s not until you’re opening the door and notice it takes a minute too long to close that you turn around and spot him. His white dress shirt is already half unbuttoned while his hair is a mess. You stare at him incredulously as he leaned against the sink.

“Max, you can’t be in here.” You state bluntly.

“I don’t recall you telling Lando to piss off when he followed you into the bathroom in Austin.” He counters.

“How do- What?” You’re taken aback by his words. How did he know?

He ignores your question choosing to walk towards you instead. You’re now face to face with the man that had taken away your team’s championship. His eye bags are dark and you can tell it’s been a while since he’s gotten a good needed break. His tousled hair falls perfectly on his head and by the way his arms flex you can tell he’s been putting extra effort into them at the gym. All of a sudden you’re nervous to be under his glare.

“Does your brother know what you and Lando do in secret?” He questions.

“You should leave.” You try to sound confident but your faltering voice exposes you.

Max just smirks at your words knowing he was getting under your skin. He still recalls the first time he ran into you, when he spilled half a can of red bull on you. He doesn’t know why he didn’t apologize but when he saw the anger in your face he realized why. You had looked so beautiful that day with the short orange sundress that did nothing to hide your cleavage. He still remembers the disappointment he felt when he saw you and Lando walk out of the restroom all disheveled. So, when he beat Lando tonight he felt absolutely no remorse.

His lips ghost yours for what feels like an eternity. You’re frozen in place wondering how his lips would taste against yours. Maybe it was the alcohol or the way his arms flex around you but suddenly you needed to know what he felt like. His arm tentatively grazes yours as it sneaks down to your knees. A gasp finds itself leaving your lips as your legs spread open instinctively. He wants to make fun of you, of the way you melt under him so easily, but he knows better. He can’t risk ruining the moment. It’s when Max inches his fingers closer to your thighs that you suddenly realize what’s happening. In a matter of seconds you push him off you and head out the door.

You’re barely four steps out when Max yanks you back and you hit his built chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate and grabs your jaw pulling your face towards his. Your lips meet in a heated kiss as his arms find their way around your waist. This time you’re the one that moves his hands from your wait to your ass. The confidence was beginning to build up and soon enough you’re tugging on his hair as his tongue enters your mouth.

“Max…” You moan and somehow it becomes the indicator that you want this. That you want him.

He pushes you flat against the cold brick of the hallway, the dimmed lights helping hide your bodies from the crowd. You’re lucky he holds you up because your legs feel like jello and if he lets go you might lose your balance. His hands roam your waist, back, and neck before he moves your hair out of the way. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses around your neck as his hands work their way down to your legs. They slowly glide up until he’s playing with the hem of your short dress. You can already feel his growing erection press against your ass.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He groans against your ear.

You really want to tell him to fuck off but your body reacts differently. You’re shocked when instead of telling him to call it a night all you murmur is keep going. In a matter of seconds your dress is being pulled up towards your waist. You can’t help the whine that escapes your lips as he rubs your aching core through your panties.

“So wet already.” He groans. “For me or Lando?”

“Shut up.” You still find it in you to annoy him.

To your surprise he doesn’t hit you with another remark. Max had been an asshole to you long enough. Now, that you were in front of him practically falling apart he didn’t want to ruin the moment. There’s a brief moment of silence before his hand carefully moves your panties to the side exposing your core to the cool breeze. Your legs spread instinctively as his fingers tempt your folds. His fingers collect your slick as he explores you, the wet sound making him groan against you. Slowly, he brings one of his fingers to your hole entering it carefully.

“Fuck.” He moans against your ear as your cunt wraps tightly around his finger.

“Ma- Max. So close.” You’re barely able to say.

You let out a loud whine as he curls his finger inside of you leading to your climax. You come around his fingers as you coat them with your wetness. His fingers slowly move toward your mouth and you don’t hesitate as you take them into your mouth, tasting yourself. He almost comes undone as you lick his fingers seductively. Aggressively he grabs your jaw and kisses you. He groans as he tastes you.

You feel the tip of him first as he runs it up and down your folds teasing you. Your hands are weak against the wall as his tip approaches your aching hole. He enters you slowly, holding you tightly in the process. He stops halfway through not wanting to hurt you but when he hears your dirty moans he continues. Your nails dig tightly into his arms as he fills you up completely. He’s quite big and the new sensation has you spiraling trying your best to not fall against him. He takes advantage of your weakness and attacks your neck again making sure to leave love bites around your collarbone.

“Fuck, Max. You’re so big.” You whine without thinking.

You feel his dick twitch inside you at that. Your voice has him in a trance as he tries his best to not just start thrusting inside of you. It’s not until you start pushing your ass against him that he almost pulls out fully before thrusting back into you. His hands grip your ass tightly—surely leaving marks for tomorrow—as your cunt squeezes him. He’s never felt such a thrill, at least since Abu Dhabi, you were your own feeling. He couldn’t believe you had finally opened up to him in many ways you were way better than winning another trophy. Many curses escape your lips as he finds the perfect pace inside of you.

He manages to bend you over leading to the perfect position and somehow he’s even deeper inside of you. He grips your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he speeds up inside of you. His hand trails back to your cunt and slowly he starts playing with your folds. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your folds is intense and you find a camisole feeling in your stomach approach you. You squeeze him tightly as his dick hits the right spot and you find yourself coming undone. You’ve never had an orgasm so intense in your life you don’t even notice how you coat his dick with your wetness.

Max isn’t far behind and speeds up at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him tightly. Your nails dig behind you at the overstimulation and stretch of his cock. Max hisses at the sensation finding it the tipping point. It’s not long before you feel his dick twitch inside of you and in a matter of seconds you feel him spill his seed inside of you. He grunts as he empties himself and as he pulls out. He pulls you up adjusting your dress in the process.

You bite your lip as he zips up his pants. The aftermath of your little rendezvous is different. Usually with others you don’t stay long enough to watch them dress themselves. But then you notice Max struggling with the buttons on his dress shirt and you find your hands on his chest again. You only button half of the shirt before stepping back. Neither of you say a word but the silence manages to speak for you both. You decide it’s time to go back but before you can take a step Max pulls you in for a final kiss before he leaves.

You’re barely able to walk back towards the VIP lounge and stumble multiple times in the process. You try your best to brush your hair down and fix your dress as you come closer to your brother’s booth. You sit down carefully unaware your brother is staring at you wide eyed and wondering why it took you almost an hour to get a drink. You shift awkwardly in your seat as Lily begins telling you both about her mixup at the airport. You turn around briefly as she goes into detail when you notice Max walking past your table. You keep your composure not wanting to expose your actions of the night but you should’ve known better. Oscar almost bursts out laughing at Max’s completely unbuttoned shirt.

“Lando’s gonna be pissed.” Your brother smirks.

“How do-” Did everyone know? “Oh, fuck off.”

The night progresses with your brother ordering countless bottles of Dom Pérignon. It’s almost five in the morning when Max takes the stage again with the DJ playing a remix of Super Max. As if on cue someone hands him a bottle of champagne and it doesn’t take long for him to start spraying it amongst those on the dance floor. You watch attentively as his chest shows the marks you left completely unaware of how your phone buzzes for the hundredth time that night.

9 missed calls from Lan

Lan: Tonight was shit.

Lan: Come over?

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Edited to add: I was hoping that people that did not like this ship could still appreciate the art as I gave them two separate pieces, but people have been coming into my inbox on all platforms, so let me encourage you to block the Jongritte and Ygritte tags on tumblr or twt, as well as me so you will not have to see it if this is you. I also would encourage you to create your own AU as it is very fun. My AU is based on Jon becoming King before leaving the Freefolk, so following his psychology as a character, Ygritte is his only choice as consort as long as she’s alive. You can make your own with Val if you want, but I do not owe anyone to pay for commissions of their preferred characters.

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte, but also defeating the Others as fire is the way Jon originally tried combating them as a steward at the Wall. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[rosenclaws]

Lost || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You risk your life on missions when you shouldn't. Logan can't stand it. He thinks it's because you want to play hero. It isn't until something shifts that he realizes there's more to it. That the two of you are more alike than ever.

warnings: Suicidal ideation, implied Self harm (scratching), depressive thoughts and feelings, self hatred manifesting in different ways, mostly the reader is very mean to themselves, the reader is having a mental spiral basically, poor eating, angst, injuries, hopeful ending.

wc: 3.3k

a/n: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This fic contains very triggering topics and if you think that reading or being exposed to them will hurt you please DO NOT READ. I value peoples well being over this fic 1000%. If I'm being honest this was my own kind of therapy. The way I wrote the reader's thought process and feelings is a lot like my own. I've been going through it a little and I just needed to get something out. I would also like to disclaimer that I am okay! Please take care of yourself first and be gentle to yourself. If you need someone to talk to my dms and inbox are open or please consider reaching out to someone

Things worked like clockwork around here. The kid would go to class. Do their homework. Play outside. The adults would be training or teaching. Dinner was at the same time every night. Occasionally the team would get sent on a mission and even then things worked like they normally did.

Scott led the team with a plan, Logan usually ignored that plan, Ro got between them when their childish bickering got to be too much, and you all got home just fine.

"Again?" Beast is shaking his head as you hobble into the lab again. A pained smile on your face as Scott helps you onto the cold metal table. 

"What can I say beastie, I just love your company." You groan as he gently touches your side. A sharp pain shoots through your body and dark spots cloud your vision.

 "Broken ribs, definitely." He mutters as he writes something down. He asks you to follow his finger and you do your best. 

"Concussion. Again." You wince as his tone grows harsher.

 "Superficial cuts and bruises." The list goes on and on as you're examined.

"Can you just prescribe me some pain meds and let go? That's what we did last time." You ask and he just looks at you like a disappointed parent.

 "We did that last time and the time before that and the time before that. This is your third concussion and I can't even remember how many broken ribs." You feel like a child as he starts lecturing you on safety and the dangers of missions and blah blah blah.

Look you get that this isn't great but you're an X-Man right? They help people by any means even when the world seems to hate them. So you're helping people by putting yourself in harms way. Even your teammates.

 "I really don't understand why you continue to do this to yourself." Beast injects something into your arm and you flinch.

 "Fuck! A little warning next time please." You rub your arm and close your eyes as the exhaustion is starting to catch up to you. 

"No missions for at least three months." He says to Scott who you forgot was still there. 

"What!" You shoot up and double over in pain from your ribs.

 "Come on, you can't bench me for three months." You whine as you look at Scott. 

"Our top priority is that you're safe and healthy firefly." Scott says and you scoff. 

"No our top priority is helping people." He sighs and pats you on the shoulder. Great, is this another scolding? Beasts was like a parent but Scott was always more brotherly than anything.

 "Firefly, We understand the want to help but you can't help people if you keep getting hurt. You throw yourself into danger without even thinking about it." 

"So does Logan!" You protest but you know the argument is futile.

 "Logan has rapid healing factor. You don't. Look, just take the three months okay? Please? We worry about you." Scott says with such sincerity it makes you feel a little bad. 

"Okay fine." You mumble in agreement. Satisfied with your answer Scott leaves, letting Hank patch you up. You're silent as you think back to the mission.

It was dangerous. You weren't dealing with low level grunts or something. These people were deadly. They weren't going to spare anyone. Rogue and Jubilee joined the mission and as much as you loved them they weren't ready. The fight was getting messier and exhaustion was kicking in.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jubilee and Rogue barely fighting off their attackers. Without thinking you jump in to help them. The calls to retreat came and you saw Logan come help the three of you. His claws sliced his way through. 

"Get back to the ship!" He growled as he took down yet another man. Everyone else was safe except for the four of you. 

"Go, I'll be right behind you!" You yell over your shoulder.

You put up a wall to block the bullets as you walk back. In your head you know how this plays out. You get on the ship and they shoot it down, killing you all. Or you don't make it. Or a million other ways it can go wrong. As Logan grabs Jubilee and Rouge and pulls them onto the ship he holds his hand out to you.

 "We need to go!" Without thinking you take down you start to build energy in your hands. The wall wavers as the bullets continue. 

"Quit fucking around and get in here!" Logan roars. Sorry Logan, you tend to ignore him anyways on missions. Which is how you tend to get hurt but you always end up okay. 

"I got this!" You can hear Logan's angry shouting as the plane door closes. They had no choice but to listen to you. A bullet pierces your wall and rips through your side. You let out a cry as your knee buckles. Sweat pours down your face as you gather every last bit of your energy into your hands.

 "Eat shit." You snarl as you make eye contact with who you assume was the leader.

You release the energy and it blasts through everyone and everything around you. The ship is safe due to protective measures but you aren't. The blowback slams you into the hard jet doors. A sickening crunch as your body hits the cold metal. Your vision becomes hazy as you hit the ground hard. Spots dancing in your vision as you crawl away from the jet.

Everything fucking hurt. You vaguely hear the doors opening again and the hands-on your face. Someone's talking to you but you don't register a thing they say. Which landed you back in the lab. Right now getting patched up.

"Thanks Hank." You say as you hop off the table. You decline any help getting to your room and awkwardly walk to the doors. To your surprise, Logan stands right outside of them. Arms crossed a really pissed off look on his face. 

"Logan, always a pleasure." You flash a smile and he rolls his eyes. He stalks after you as you walk slowly to the elevator. 

"Did Charles send you to check up on me or something because I'm really not in the mood." 

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He snarls. He slams his hand on a button and the elevator stops.

 "Logan I really want to go to bed." You groan as you try to push past him but to no avail. It was like a brick wall.

 "No, you're going to shut up and listen. I don't know what compels you to be so incredibly stupid but you need to fucking quit it." You shrink under his harsh words.

 "I've seen people like you before, always trying to play hero. You're reckless. Putting yourself into danger so you can be the one to save the day." You let him rip into you. Not speaking a word he slams his hand on the button and the elevator moves again.

 "Nothing to say?" He rolls his eyes and storms out of the elevator. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper to no one as the elevator doors close on you.

No one sees you for a while. You stay locked up in your room. Not even coming out for food. Every day some student brings food to your door and leaves it there. You wonder who told them to do that. Jean maybe, probably 'Ro. 

Sometimes you take it just so they don't worry but other times you leave it there until the next plate comes. You spend your day staring at the ceiling or sleeping. Sometimes though you're too tired to sleep. Does it make sense? No but it's how you feel. Logan's words replaying in your head.

If Beast and Scott were like family, Logan was something more. As much as you tried to hide it your feelings had changed, evolved from friendly into something more. You cared so much about what he thinks of you even when you don’t want to. You can’t help it. 

So his words cut deeper than anyone else's. You aren't trying to be a hero or take the glory. But maybe you are? Maybe you want that love and recognition from people, from him. Does it matter though? What your intentions were?

Apparently, you come across as an egotistical reckless person with a hero complex. It's not like that. You argue with yourself about it all the time. Shifting from hero to villain in an instant. You're selfish. You do it for attention. 

No wonder he thinks that way. Does everyone else think so too? But you care. You're an X-men but you aren't one of the X-men. You're not the one people think of when they come to save the day and you're okay with that. Your expendable. Better you than them. Right? You've hurt people in your past. You aren't worthy of this life. This family. You need to prove yourself. Sacrifice yourself if needed.

The spiral won't stop. It never. Stops. You can't get it to stop. You just want peace. Just one day where you don't wake up and feel guilt in everything you do. A loud knock on your door rings through your room but you don't move. 

"Hey." It's Logan. What is he doing here?

 "Look I uh, I shouldn't have snapped at you. The other day." You can tell he's struggling to get his thoughts out. Not that he didn't want to do it, he just didn't know how.

 "I was angry." He waits a few moments and you hear a frustrated growl. 

"Come on firefly, you've been holed up here long enough." You roll onto your side to face the door. Looking at his shoes through the small crack in the bottom. He's pacing.

 "Seriously I-er We're getting worried alright?" You don't catch the slip of his tongue. Too wrapped up feeling guilty. Again. Guilty for hurting your team, for not understanding what was wrong with you. Guilty for even feeling this way in the first place. 

"I thought you should know that Remy's making your favorite dinner." You hear him sigh and walk away. More guilt creeps up on you. You're making everyone worry about you.

 You're being selfish, just pull it together. Beating yourself up over and over again. As the sun goes down the smell of dinner wafts through your room. It doesn't normally do that so you suspect someone is trying to lure you out. Enough of this.

You get up and change your clothes. You stop and look in the mirror, trying to put on your best smile. You don't look very convincing but it should be fine. Peeking your head out you hear a lot of voices coming from the kitchen. You quietly walk into the doorway.

It takes a second but someone notices you and then everyone does. The talking dies down as they just stare at you. It's really uncomfortable. You feel terrible for making them worry. You don't deserve to be worried about like this.

 "All this for me?" You joke and thankfully the room grows louder again.

You say hi to some of the people who come up to you. A plate is placed in front of you and you graciously accept it. Looking across the room you can see Logan staring at you. He's silent but watching your every move. 

"So how's recovery coming? You've been taking bed rest pretty seriously." Scott says with a smile.

You know he doesn't mean anything by it but for some reason, it stings. Like you've been lazy or something. You're a mutant. Recovery shouldn't take this long. You're not putting in the work. You're wasting your time. You don't get to rest. 

"Hey? Firefly?" You snap out of it and put on a smile.

 "Going great, it's nice being able to sleep without interruption." People seem to accept that answer and the conversation moves on.

You pick at your food, moving it around your plate and chopping it up but never putting it in your mouth. It's your favorite meal but you just, can't bring yourself to eat it right now.

The room is so full of talking and laughter but for some reason, you feel a million years away. Like you're lonely. Really, really lonely. How can that even be? To feel so alone while being surrounded by so many people. 

As dinner wraps up you quietly slip out. Sneaking out to the gardens instead. It's cold and you have no coat but you don't care. Some fresh air is what you need. Maybe the trees can tell you what's wrong with you. You find a small bench and sit down.

The stars shine so nicely tonight. You wonder what it'd be like to be a star. If it's freeing to be up so high. Or is it lonely? To lack the warmth of the sun and be a million light years away from each other. 

"What are you doing out here?" Logan stands in front of you. You hadn't even noticed him. 

"Nothing." He lights a cigar and takes a seat next to you. His legs spread out, knocking his knees into yours. 

"So you wanna tell me what's going on?" 

"What are you talking about?" You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hide away. 

"You may have fooled everyone else but I know somethings going on in that head of yours." You just shrug. 

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit." Logan scoffs. You watch the soft glow of cigar ash tumble to the ground.

The light dies out as it hits the cold cement. He wants to help, or at least he wants to listen. For some reason, you can't get the words you. Anger replaces any rational thought. You want him to leave, to not care so damn much.

"Why do you even care? Last time I checked you don't do these heart to hearts." You snap.

The cold air bites your face and you shiver. Your nails scratch down your arms harshly. The slight stinging soothes you in some fucked up way. Logan notices and grabs onto your hand. Taking it and holding it in his warm one. 

"Just leave me alone Logan." You try taking your hand away but he won't let you.

"No. You're right I don't do the sappy shit but this is different. It's more than you're letting on." You feel a pit forming in your stomach.

Everything in your body screams for you to run. To hide and put up your walls and ignore this ever happened. But then you look into his pretty hazel eyes. The rough and tough Wolverine was silently begging you to stay. To talk to him. 

"I don't try to be a hero, It's not a hero complex, or a savior complex or whatever you want to call it." His thumb rubs over your hand as you talk. He wants to butt in but he lets you talk.

 "I don't know. It's a lot. What goes on in my head." You start to count the blades of grass that you can see. Anything to keep you from breaking down. 

"I don't care if I get hurt if I'm helping people. I just. It's how I help. My life is worth saving people. Saving you guys. I don't care if..." You trail off. You can't get the words right.

 "You don't care if you die." Logan finishes. He swallows harshly. It breaks his heart to hear but that small part of him understands. More than you’ll ever know. 

 "Kind of. It's complicated alright? I'm not actively trying to die but...Look I don't think I deserve this life sometimes. I've caused a lot of hurt and I've lost so many people." Logan reaches up and wipes away a tear.

There's a lot of pain that sits with a lifetime of trauma. Pain that you've chosen to ignore over and over again. Burying it until you've convinced yourself this is what life is like. What you deserve. 

"It's stupid right? There's so much that I should be grateful for. What right do I have to complain about?"

 "You're a mutant, your life hasn't been easy." 

"Yeah I guess." Logan doesn't let go of your hand. He holds it, squeezes it. Its warm and fits perfectly with yours. 

"Life sucks, a lot. Trust me I understand. It's like the days blend together right? There's this massive hole that just seems to get bigger. You can stuff it with things, try and close it up or even pretend it never exists. But it never goes away." Logan says.

He understands because he feels the same way. Maybe not exactly how you feel but he knows what its like. To have this, hatred for yourself grow and fester until you can't breathe. You convince yourself that nothings going to change so why even bother? 

"I just want it to go away." You whisper sadly. 

"It will, we're tough. We survive."

"What if I'm tired of surviving? What if I don't want to be strong anymore?" You confess. You feel like you have to be strong all the time and it weighs you down like bricks. You're drowning. 

"That's okay, you come to me and I'll carry what you can't." He pulls you in closer and you bury your face in his neck. He's warm, protecting you from the chill.

 "Just please, promise me no more heroics on missions okay?" He mumbles. 

You scared the shit out of him. You were bleeding and in so much pain. You couldn't even register that it was his hands on your face. That he carried you to the jet and held you while you went in and out of consciousness. He stayed by your side until you got back. He disappeared to the background as Scott took you to the lab. His worry and fear of losing you turning to anger. Wondering why you continue to put yourself in danger.

 "Okay." You lean in and press a light kiss to his cheek.

"Logan, Can I ask why you're out here? How did you even notice something was wrong?" It's not that you weren't friends, in fact you were closer than most. But Logan isn't really the best with this kind of thing. Yet somehow, he always knows what to say.

"You mean a lot to me firefly..."

He could tell you that he loves you right here and now. Tell you that you're everything to him. How he's fallen in love with you over the years. But he keeps it inside. It's not the right time. Sometimes love isn't enough to get better and he knows that there's work to be done. He doesn't want to put this pressure on you to get better for him. He wants you to get better for yourself. He'll be by your side for the whole thing though. He won't let you spiral as long as he's there. 

"You mean a lot to me too Logan." You smile, a real one this time. He caresses your face, tilting your head as his lips kiss your forehead. You giggle as beard tickles your skin.

 "There's that sweet sound," He hums. He takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders. The worn leather smells like him.

 "You really think things get better?" You ask as you link your hand with his. He doesn't answer right away. He'd be a hypocrite to preach that everything's fine and dandy all the time. Sometimes he doesn't believe it himself. But he keeps going, every day. Just as you do. 

"Yeah I do, I don't know when. But someday it will." You nod and rest your head on his shoulder. It might take a long time until you truly feel better but you can keep going. Waking up and living.

With a hope, no a belief, that someday. It will get better. 

[acesofspadess]

Lucky Star

max verstappen x reader

warnings: PDA?? breaking up??? curse words,

summary: upgrades to his car were fine, but having his lucky star in the lone star was even better

Max had not won a race since June, many fans believed it was because of the breakup between him and his now ex Kelly, but no one really knew why his demeanour that was unfazed and really not up for fun changed over the summer break.

You did though, that’s because you were what changed. You had officially met Max at the Monaco Grand Prix a few months back. You were not new to the F1 world, having been to a few races in the past. You had a very strong love for the sport and went whenever it was possible. You had been invited by RedBull for your work in Tag Heuer- one of their biggest sponsors.

As a designer for one of the most expensive watch brands, you got paid very well, being able to live in the principality yourself, but not many people knew who you were, and you were more than okay with that. You lived yourself as you wanted, without the opinions you couldn’t care less about flooding your comment section.

“And this is Y/N from Tag Heuer. She’ll be in the garage this weekend.” Christian introduced you to Max. “Max, nice to meet you.” He shook your hand with a smile. You shook his hand with a greeting of your own. “Are you ready for this weekend?” You followed up, politely. “I hope so.” He laughed in his natural fashion. “It’s hard to overtake here, let’s hope you don’t have to.” You joked back and he looked almost happy you had an idea on what you were talking about. “You know in the chicane….”

That was the first time you met Max, you had small conversations throughout the weekend, but not enough to leave a lasting impression, or so you thought. Over the summer, Tag Heuer was creating a custom version of their Monaco watch for Max himself, and to the company, it only made sense that it was designed in Monaco, by the new head of design that lived in Monaco…you.

You walked into the back room of the store setting up for the appointment that was scheduled in a few moments. Nothing in you thought Max, who met people everyday would remember you, especially after his public breakup with Kelly and lack of a race winning car following Spain.

“Y/N?” You looked up from your iPad to see Max walking in. “It is indeed. How are you?” Max seemed to go through the formalities and the extent of designing the watch easily, but you could tell something else was on his mind. “Well, this isn’t too far off the original design, only a few colour changes. It should be ready in a few months time.” You said walking out of the office with him in tow. “I’m sure you know if you have any questions you can always call.” You ended your speech. Max nodded looking out the glass doors before looking back at you. 

“I do have one question.” He started and you nodded at him to continue. “Would you want to have lunch with me?” He asked softly, a blush rising to his cheeks. You smiled at the question, of course you would love to, but until you handed these papers off and your process was done, that was a very strict…

“Max, I would love too,” you started softly, and Max was smart enough to know where your tone of voice was heading, “but until this,” she waved the small iPad, “is out of my hands, you know I can’t.” You finished telling him and he looked at the iPad like he would another car on track.

“How long?” The look on your face said enough about your confusion. “Until this,” he pointed, “is out of your hands?” you but your lip to keep your chuckle at bay. “Maybe two, even three weeks.” You admitted. “I’ll wait then.” He promised. “Max, not to say I’m not flattered, but we’ve had a handful of conversations in the past, months ago even, when you had a girlfriend, is this even a smart thing for you to do?”

Max seemed mildly taken aback. “You may have a point,” he nodded his head, “but I enjoyed our conversations a lot, I didn’t feel like Max Verstappen the world champion, I just felt like Max.” He reasoned and it was one you couldn’t argue. With a slight chuckle you agreed, “Three weeks it is.”

You had actually managed to get to Switzerland and set the watch into work within two weeks, but when you told Max, he had been in Ibiza with Lando and Martin Garrix. You two talked as much as you could over the time zone, and by the time you finally met up for your date, it felt natural, like you had done it plenty of times before.

Over the course of the next few months you and Max spent whatever free time he had in his apartment. You never minded just sitting on his couch while he streamed with Redline or just winded down, you simply enjoyed each others company. At first Max didn’t know how to attend to you, he was used to having to go out almost every day, buy things, order other stuff, or just constantly be running in his relationships. After you had told Max you didn’t need anything from him other than himself he relaxed and you two were better than ever.

You hadn’t been to any more races since becoming Max’s girlfriend. You were in the process of designing a new watch, and that took a lot of your time.

Austin was the first race of the triple header Max had made you promise you would attend. You were happy you did as well. You had watched Max win anything for the first time since Spain. You wiped the small tears that went down your cheek as you watched from the pit-lane but more filled at every wipe.

You watched as he got out of his car and ran to his crew that congratulated him. You hadn’t seen Max smile this much at a race in a long time. Despite having interviews- that Max didn’t care for- he came running to you and with no thought in his head and kissed you, shielding most of the kiss with his water bottle. ��I love you.” He whispered and you knew the tears were no longer from his win. “I love you.” You recited back to him and he kissed you again smiling as he pulled away before running off to his interview.

After making your way from the pit lane and into the garage Christian patted your shoulder, “I think you should be around more often.”

maxverstappen1 posted!

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maxverstapppen1 Perfect timing @/tagheuer

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forzamaxie33 oh he said fuck y'all for real

[starkwlkr]

i wait for you | sebastian vettel

part 1 part 2

this is the last part in this mini series!! thanks for reading <3 some lines are taken from the movie babylon :) (babylon, you will always be famous)

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading! you can read it here!

INSTAGRAM

liked by sebastianvettel, aussiegrit and 766,388 others

yourusername hi, i would like to start by saying thank you for all the kind messages i’ve been receiving over the past couple days. this is my only account on any social media. i know it’s been years since you’ve heard from me so here’s an update:

as of last week, i am now divorced and living happier than ever. i do a lot of reading and baking. i still think about my time on the track and all the wonderful people i met.

until next time, take care.

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TIME SKIP TO ABU DHABI 2022

you weren’t sure if you made the right decision, yet here you were in the aston martin garage about to watch sebastian’s last race. the aston martin team made sure photographers weren’t in your face with their cameras, which you thanked them for. yeah, your former job had paparazzi following you almost everywhere but you had gotten used to the quietness.

you hadn’t seen sebastian all day, it was killing you inside. you felt like this was a bad decision, but before you could leave the aston martin garage, you saw sebastian enter with britta by his side. you heard him speaking to her, but he stopped once he spotted you.

britta noticed the look sebastian gave you. it was like seeing two teenagers in love. “i’ll leave you two alone.” she said then left.

sebastian watched as you played with the ring on your finger. it was a habit he noticed in 2010 and somehow you never changed. “we can go in my driver’s room if you’d like. it’s more private.”

“yeah, i’d like that.” you reply. together, you and sebastian walked to his driver’s room.

several people from the aston martin team were secretly rooting for you two, it was clear that they knew about your history. even if they were big fans of you, they didn’t walk up to you to ask for a photo, not when you were with sebastian on the most important night of his life.

you finally made it to his driver’s room. it was small, but it was just perfect for you and sebastian to have a conversation in. you and sebastian sat on the tiny bed. “are you nervous?” you asked.

“more excited actually. it really is nice that you’re here. thank you for coming.” he said.

“i didn’t think you would want me here.”

“why?”

you looked at him. there he was staring at you with his beautiful blue eyes. “i thought you hated me all these years.”

“i could never hate you, y/n. i never stopped loving you even when you told me you were engaged, when i found out you said i do to someone else.” he confessed. “i’ve carried this love for you in my heart for many years. but you were happy.”

“i was happy . . then he broke my heart and i gave him the ring back.” you replied. “i realized I didn’t want that life with him . . . because i want that life with you and i know it all seems so sudden but it’s always been you.”

in that moment, seemed to stand still as he processed the weight of her words. he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of hope blossom within him—a hope that, against all odds, maybe, just maybe, they could finally be together.

you could feel a tear run down your cheek. “god, i’m sorry. i dumped all this on you before your last race—”

then she felt sebastian’s lips on hers. as their lips met, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

for you, it was a revelation—a confirmation of the love you had always felt but never dared to acknowledge it. for sebastian, it was a homecoming—a return to the one person who had always held his heart captive, even when you belonged to another.

their moment had been interrupted by a knock on the door then by sebastian’s father, norbert vettel, asking if he was ready yet.

“i’ll be out in a second.” sebastian replied. he turned to look at you. “i am considering that a good luck kiss.”

“you don’t need luck, you’re sebastian vettel.” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“well whenever i’m with you, i always feel lucky.”

and with that, you and sebastian exited his driver’s room.

SEB’S LAST RACE

you were feeling lots of emotions. you watched as sebastian finished his post race interview with jenson. you watched from a monitor inside the aston martin garage, you could see the sadness in sebastian’s eyes. you knew the feeling all too well.

“go meet him.” norbert said. “he needs you right now.”

“but—”

“go.” he assured you.

so you walked to the pit lane since sebastian was already making his way back to the garage. once he spotted you, he smiled. you made it clear that now you didn’t care if you were photographed, all you wanted was to be with sebastian.

“i really want to kiss you right now.” sebastian said when he walked up to you. many photographers and journalists were crowded around you, making sure to capture the moment between you two.

“then do it.”

and then, without another word, he pulled her in for a kiss. as his lips met yours, you felt a rush of warmth flood your entire being. as they finally pulled away, your eyes met in a silent understanding. sebastian took your hand and led you to back to the garage where his team was waiting for him.

“i’m so proud of you.” you whispered to him.

“you won’t be saying that when i’m bothering you constantly now that i’ll be around you more.” he joked.

“and i’ll be fine with that.” you reply with a smile.

sebastian turned to face you. he knew it was still early, but he always kept his promises. “one day, i’m going to marry you. i’m going to make you so happy everyday, okay? it’s my only job.”

hearing sebastian’s words filled you with a sense of comfort, joy and reassurance. you suddenly felt more alive and complete than ever before.

“i love you, more deeply than i ever thought possible.” you reply.

and suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

@woozarts @hc-dutch @lightdragonrayne @multiplefandomwritings @jggykhug09090 @neivivenaj @kissesandmartinis @barnestatic @avythef1addict @sam-is-lost @dampcelery0294 @shineforever19 @c-losur3 @lifeless-firefly @horsiegek @ares10156 @purplephantomwolf

[erwinsvow]

hii shea idk if someone has already made this type of request if that's the case please ignore me but i can't stop thinking about shy!reader absolutely cock drunk asking for the first time rafe to fuck her raw and the question caught him so off guard that he felt feral and dizzy, his composure slipping away just wanting to please his sweet girl<3

hi baby omg no i don't have any reqs like this here it is hope i did it justice <33

rafe was teasing you today.

after more than an hour of back and forth at whatever party you two had gone to for the evening—and only because rafe wanted to sell and your friends had already promised they'd be there—you were more than ready to go home.

except rafe hadn't taken you home yet. instead you'd been all around the house—on rafe's lap in the living room to start. leaning in to your boyfriend's ear, you know he can tell how desperate you're getting.

you don't do well with denial anymore—rafe had spoiled you too much for that.

"can't we go now?" the words are whispered to rafe, and you rest your head on his shoulder, blinking up at him while you wait for a response. one of his hands leaves the armstand of the sofa and grips your exposed thigh, skirt riding up a little too much.

"it's early. hold out a little longer. can you do that for me?"

you think your eyes are going to roll all the way back. the answer is yes, of course, you can do that for him. you would do anything for him. you just don't want.

following that, you accompanied rafe to the other side of the house where a whole swarm of people were chasing their next high. though you should really stand next to him, you just can't find it in you today, instead staying his back, peering out every now and then like shy children do.

it's all worth it, because moments later rafe takes you upstairs, murmuring something about how you're being a good girl for holding out. there's an empty bedroom that you think is the perfect place to spend the next hour.

rafe's talking to you—though you're so deliriously horny you can't really hear him. you nod and stare up, agreeing to whatever your boyfriend wants to do, just wishing he would hurry up and do something already, when the door opens.

you're not naked, though if they had barged in a few minutes later, you might have been. and normally you think your face would be burning, that you might die of embarrassment at someone catching you like this.

instead you're just mad.

it's the owner of the house—which makes sense, since your boyfriend has brought you up to the master. he's got a girl of his own on his arm, and you grind your teeth getting up with rafe, furious and impatient now.

"at least knock next time!" you yell when you shuffle through, ignoring splutters of it's my house!

you think rafe is going to ask you what you want to do next—but he doesn't. your boyfriend, like always, knows what you need before you can even know it sometimes. you follow rafe back to his truck, ready for, at the very least, some peace and quiet.

when you finally get up to rafe's room, the buzz of the party is wearing off a bit. your feet hurt from your heels and you can't believe you yelled at someone. lost in your own thoughts, you don't even process rafe sitting down next to you, until he takes your feet into his lap, undoing the strap of your shoes for you.

it's instant—one touch from him is enough to set your skin on fire.

"oh," you say, at the sudden realization you might finally be getting what you want. you stare at where rafe is holding your ankle in place, shoes on the ground now. "thank you."

"s'nothing, kid. get on the bed." eagerly, you comply.

in the vain hope that rafe was as impatient as you are—you thought he would just fuck you already. but it seems not, with the slow way he kisses up and down your neck, down to your tits and your stomach.

you find it a lot easier to ask him for things now—a new dress, dessert, money for your nails—but it seems impossible to ask him for this, so you opt for enjoying it and staying silent.

but even then—rafe always knows when something is wrong. you're practically vibrating from anticipation—you had wanted your boyfriend to fuck you hours ago on that stupid couch from that stupid house. it seems your body was only now realize how long you'd been clenching your thighs, biting your cheek and ignoring the tense knot in your stomach.

a few touches from rafe was enough to have you practically melting—staring up and still not saying anything.

"y'okay, kid?" he asks, and you really don't know how to answer. "s'okay. you're getting what you want."

you can do this. you're patient—you've always been patient.

"can you-please, just-" alright, maybe not. "can you please just fuck me raw, please, please, just fuck me-"

of course, rafe's not stupid. he could tell you've been on edge all night, he just hadn't known why. he stares down at you, all flushed, hot skin and heavy breaths, looking up at him. he knows whatever reaction he gives you will stay on your mind, and though he can try as hard as he wants, you are impossible to say no to.

"jesus. s'that really what you want?" you nod eagerly. "can't regret this later, baby. once we do that, it's-it's serious. what if i knock you up, huh?"

rafe watches you take in the words, facing twisting in understand.

"please knock me up."