#it's my first time draw max so hope it does looks like him...

[evelynduole]

[verstappen-cult]

PRAISE, M. VERSTAPPEN.

✶ SUMMARY. Max knows he’s good at his job, he was raised to be the best driver, the perfect son, and knows he’s talented. The bad thing is that he has to listen to people complimenting him almost everyday. He really thinks he’s good at hiding how shy and uncomfortable it makes him, and it’s just that Max can’t seem to take compliments from anyone but you.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. lots of fluff. my favorite kind of max: flustered max. P in V. sub/dom dynamics. praise kink. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it kiddos. breeding kink. redbull racing slander because we are tired of them not doing their job. english is not my first language.

GWEN RAMBLES — i started writing this after the awful events of sunday, and finished it today! this was requested a while ago and to the person who asked for it – i’m sorry it took me so long! hope y’all like it. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Max gets uncomfortable when people compliment him. He knows he's good at what he does, knows he’s talented. And when people call him handsome? Compliment his hair? His arms? He has a hard time trying not to show how affected he actually is.

However, you know him in ways the rest of the world doesn't.

Max likes it when you compliment his cooking. It's not deserving of a five star Michelin rating, but good enough to eat and perfect the dish.

"How did you came up with this?" You ask, raising a spoonful of vegetables with a sweet and sour sauce.

Max can't keep his eyes off of you, waiting for your reaction patiently and anxiously. "I saw it in a video. But it was my idea to add the sauce to give it a little spin." He shrugs, his cheeks gaining a pretty pink color the second you make eye contact with him.

"It's delicious," You whisper, licking the rests of sauce from the spoon. Max's eyes glaze over and he forces himself to look away if he actually wants to make it through dinner. "You're such a good cook, Max. If you weren't a racing driver, I'm sure you would've had a restaurant."

Now, Max blushes furiously, the spoon falling from his fingers and on the plate. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind, and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing at his flustered state.

Max likes it when you jump into his open arms after a good qualifying session or podium celebrations, all happy and giddy as he still tries to shake off the adrenaline.

"You did such a good job!" He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground. He's still pretty much on cloud nine and with you in his arms it can't get any more perfect. "You were flying out there!"

��Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” You are not looking at his precious face, but you know he’s blushing for the way his voice falters. Once he puts you down, Max hides his face away by busying himself with getting rid of his champagne-soaked race suit.

His reluctance to accept your compliment doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, he always brushes them off. You thought he didn't like it at first, it was really awkward when you started dating and he would ignore you, but as time went on you learned that he just doesn't know how to react to them. His PR training has helped him a lot for when the press and the public in general praise him for his excellent driving and fast reflexes almost every day of his life, but Max still gets flustered when you are the one complimenting him. You love to tease him about it.

Max likes it when you praise him during sex.

Especially when he surrenders himself to you.

"Look at you," You coo at him, the back of your hand caressing his cheek ever so slightly. "being so good for me." Max draws in a sharp breath, your touch burning in the most delicious way even if you're barely doing it.

You press a kiss on his naked shoulder, his smooth and warm skin shining with sweat.

“I’m always good.” He rasps, leaning his head to the side and presenting his neck to you.

You laugh softly, moving away to look into the depths of his ocean blue eyes. “Of course you are.” The smile he gives you makes your heart hammer in your ears.

Max opens his mouth to speak but falls silent as you continue to kiss along his collarbones, running your tongue and creating a path down over his chest, your soft lips making contact with his nipples.

He arches his back when you capture a nub between your teeth, hands grabbing the sheets because he knows he can’t touch you unless you allow him to. And he’s good. He wants to be good.

Max bites his bottom lip as you pinch his other nipple with your fingers. He’s having a hard time trying to stay still, his whole body shivers at your ministration.

“Always so sensitive.” You say, swiping your thumb over the pebbled flesh. Max only nods, his blushed face twisted in pleasure. “Such a good boy, uh?”

You lift your skirt up to straddle his hips, sitting just above his hard cock, still tucked away in his trousers.

“You did such a good job today.” You say, rocking your hips and planting your hands on his stomach. Max groans, shaking his head. “What was that?”

“It was,” He sighs, closing his eyes to try and regain some control over his body, but he’s sensitive and can feel your slick dripping over his clothed cock. “It was awful today.”

You tsk, nodding your approval. “It was.” His face falls for a moment, expression somber. “They don’t deserve you, not at all.” His eyes shine again, just like that. “You’re practically doing everything by yourself, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes.” His knuckles are white from gripping the sheets trying to follow your earlier instructions, so you take pity on him. Your touch is soft as you take his hands and place them on your waist, and Max doesn’t waste a second on gripping you so hard you know you’ll have bruises the size of his hands tomorrow. The mere thought of walking around with his bruises makes you clench around nothing.

“No one is doing it like you, Max.” You purr his name, and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Max lets out a low groan, hips thrusting up with force. He needs release. He needs you.

“Please.” He whispers, and you lower yourself to be at the same level, lips grazing his.

“What do you need?”

“Please,” He says again, almost whining. “Please.”

“You need to use your words. I don’t know what your please means, Max.” You pinch his nipple and he gasps, tilting his head.

His pupils are blown wide when he opens his eyes to look directly into yours. “I want – please I want you to ride me.” His voice breaks in a moan.

“See?” You cup his jaw, thumb caressing his bottom lip. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Max’s mind is blank except for thoughts of you. You on top of him. You taking care of him. You fucking him. You, you, you.

You use his chest for support as you help him get rid of his trousers and your skirt. Now, both of you are completely naked and Max can’t fight the moan that slips from his lips when he feels the heat of your cunt against his hard and leaking cock. It’s painful.

Max gazes down and his mouth waters. The thought of laying you down and claiming his favorite spot between your legs to taste you is almost enough to send him over the edge.

You trail your hand down his chest, not breaking eye contact, not wanting to miss any of his reactions. Like the way his entire face twist in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth hanging open, when you wrap your hand around his cock.

Max still has a little of self control but it’s exhausting, he doesn’t know how much he can actually take before reaching his limit and spilling his seed. And he doesn’t want to waste it. He wants to come inside of you, wants to fill you up and stay there. So he says it.

And you shudder in response. You’re soaking wet, so it’s enough to not need prep, even though Max is big and he loves to prep you for it; you want it to hurt today, you want to be sore and feel him all day.

You guide his cock with trembling hands, feeling the tip fighting its way into your cunt.

You place both hands on his chest as he grips your hips as his life depends on it. You sink down on him, adjusting and pressing down slowly. It is torture for Max, you see it in the way his jaw tenses and sweat coats in his forehead. But he doesn’t protest, he takes everything you give him in silence.

“You feel,” You gasp at the sensation of finally having him deep inside of you. Max tosses his head back when he feels you clench around him. “so,” He moans louder, bucking his hips into you as you start riding him, fingernails scrapping his skin. “good.”

You take him deeper every time you raise your hips, letting yourself fall down hard, your clit grinding against his skin and making you moan loudly.

Max is mesmerized by the view.

And Max really doesn’t know where to look. If your contorted face and mouth open, moans and praises falling from your lips mixing with the squelching sounds of your cunt. Or your breast bouncing with every move. Or the connection between your bodies, how his cock disappears inside of you over and over again, driving him closer to the edge.

“Fucking me so good,” You start babbling, and Max knows you’re close to your orgasm.

He pulls you down against him and starts thrusting into you with urgency. You tuck your head against his neck and sink your teeth into his skin, marking him. Claiming him.

His cock digs deep inside, the tip rubbing against that sensitive spot that makes you tremble and see stars behind your eyelids.

Max reaches his climax with loud moans and calls of your name. He fills you up and continues to fuck his seed into you until your whole body goes still and the whole world cease to exist except for you and him.

Max doesn’t pull out until he’s certain you’ve taken every last drop. It is only when it gets cold and you want to cuddle under the blankets that you move off him, his pout at not having your weight on top of him making you giggle.

“Did so good.” You whisper, not recognising your own broken voice. “My sweet boy.”

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[fanficgirl429]

Mike has a feelings for you (fluff)

Prompt: While babysitting Abby she tells you that Mike has a crush on you

Pairing: Reader x Mike Schmidt

----

“I can’t believe I have to fucking work today,” Mike says, pulling his gray security shirt on. “I told them I can only work during the week!”

Your best friend scrambles around the living room, looking for his phone, keys, and wallet- all of which are in various places. You are currently sitting on the couch, watching all of this unfold. He was always leaving his items in various places. How many times had you told him to leave them in the same spot?

He finds his keys and phone and shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Where is my wallet?” he says, running his fingers through his already messy brown hair.

“Did you check your room?” you ask.

He quickly leaves the room and returns moments later with his wallet in his hand.

Mike let’s out a sigh and looks over at you. “Are you sure you’re ok watching her? I can always call Max.”

“I don’t mind watching her at all,” you tell him.

You stand up and walk over to your best friend. Wrapping your arms around his waist you pull him into a tight hug. He instantly relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“You have no idea how amazing you are,” Mike tells you, smiling.

You laugh as Mike takes a step back and towards the front door.

“Thank you so much for watching her,” Mike calls. “I owe you!”

“Hey Abs,” you say, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “What are you drawing?”

Abby smiles and passes you the sheet of paper. There is a white house with a large tree and three people standing out front. A man, a woman, and a child.

“You have to tell me who everyone is,” you say, pointing to the three people.

Abby stands up and comes to sit besides you on the bed. Her small hand points to the man on the page, “That’s Mike,” she moves her hand to the woman, “you,” and points to the child, “and that’s me.”

You weren’t shocked that you were drawn- Abby tended to draw the three of you alot. Mike and you had been best friends since middle school and you loved Abby like she was your little sister. Most of her drawings were things the three of you had done together or what she wanted to do with the two of you.

“And who’s house is this?” you question.

“We all live there together,” Abby states.

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you reply.

“Yea! Because you and Mike are going to get married!”

Abby’s comment throws you off. Not once has she ever asked about your and her brother's relationship.

“What makes you think we’re getting married?”

“Because Mike has a crush on you,” Abby says, shrugging.

You laugh. “No he doesn’t.”

Abby nods her head. “Yes he does. He says your name a lot in his sleep.”

“But that doesn’t mean he has a crush on me,” you tell her.

Abby’s silent for a moment then answers quietly. “You make him smile and laugh and he’s always happy when you’re around. He’s not like that around anyone else.”

Her answer surprises you but kids are very perceptive. Instead of pressing any further, you tell Abby to start to get ready for bed.

“Do you have a crush on Mike?” Abby askes as you tuck her in to her bed.

“Oh…um…yea, I do,” you tell her.

Little does Abby know but you are in love with her brother.

Abby smiles and nods and you turn the light off, closing the door behind you as you walk back to the living room.

—-

Abby falls asleep quickly and you sit in the living room watching tv. Your mind keeps going back to conversation with Abby. Does Mike really have a crush on you?

Abby doesn't know it (well maybe she figured it out) but you’ve had feelings for Mike for a long time. You loved your relationship with Mike and didn’t want to jeopardize it so you never made any indication or moves towards him. You had hoped that maybe he would be the first one to make a move but he never did.

All of the sudden it hits you, how tired you are. You stand up from the couch and stretch and slowly walk back towards Mikes room. This isn’t the first time you had slept over. Many times after Abby had gone to sleep, you and Mike would stay up together, hanging out. At first Mike insisted that you sleep at his house but now he didn’t even have to say anything- you would just crash on his bed, next to him.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep and a few hours later, the bed dips slightly as Mike lays down next to you- waking you but only for a brief moment.

—-

The sun peeks through the curtains in Mikes room and the smell of bacon and pancakes wake you up from your sleep.

The spot on the bed next to you is disheveled -the only evidence that Mike has slept there.

As you lay in bed for another minute, you hear voices drifting down the hallway. You can’t make out what they are saying but you can tell it’s Mike and Abby.

Standing up, you walk into the hallway but hang back for a moment- waiting to see what they are talking about.

“Did you know that Y/N had a crush on you?” Abby tells Mike.

“How do you know?” you hear him ask.

“She told me,” Abby states matter of factly.

It’s then that you decide to walk into the small kitchen. Abby and Mike are both sitting at the small kitchen table, eating bacon and pancakes.

“Morning,” you say, walking over to the coffee maker.

“Morning,” Abby and Mike say at the same time.

Mike's hair is sticking up in various directions and he looks like he just woke up. His dark t-shirt hugs his frame and you know he’s wearing his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants.

“I’m going to go draw,” Abby says, leaving you and Mike alone in the kitchen.

Mike watches as you pour yourself a glass of coffee but don’t turn around to face him.

“So,” he begins. “Abby told me something interesting…”

“And what was that?” you question, although you already know the answer.

“She said that you have a crush on me.”

“Oh. Why would she say that?”

“She said that you told her you did.”

You turn around to face your best friend, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks are slightly pink and it makes you feel better that this conversation might be slightly embarrassing for him as well.

“I-uh-,” you stammer.

Mike stands up and walks over to you and your back presses against the counter. He slowly moves his hands to your waist, waiting to see how you’ll react. When you don’t move away, he grips your waist, his brown eyes locking with yours.

“What if I told you that I had a crush on you?” he says.

A soft smile crosses your lips and Mike reaches up and places his hand against your cheek, his thumb moving in small circles.

You move your arms up and snake them around his neck, waiting for him to make the next move. His body is pressed against yours and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

Within moments, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours before pulling away.

“Why did you stop?” you tease him.

He smiles as his presses his lips against yours and they move together, almost as if the two of you had done this before.

[lightsoutletsgo]

flowers are a language of their own — mv.1

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 4.2k warnings:  slight angst

four times max gives you flowers and the first time you reciprocate, a childhood friends to lovers oneshot this is basically inspired by gwen and for gwen 😭 @verstappen-cult once again thanking you for my max brain rot bc these conversations are just DOING something to me skskksjsj but MWAH! I hope you like it my love 🤍 happy reading! mimi

i. daisies; new beginnings, innocence, cheerfulness (age 6) You hadn’t been at your new school very long, having moved to the town recently. You’d struggled with making new friends, the new language making things even more difficult. But this had really ruined your day. Your bottom lip jutted out and began to wobble as you looked at your drawing you’d spent the whole morning perfecting before tidy-up time. What had once been a beautiful explosion of scribbled crayon colours across one page now lay in two halves. It was more than your poor six year old brain could handle and so you immediately burst into tears. Wailing and sobbing, your teacher hurried over to see what the issue was. Between gasping inhales and snotty sobs you pointed to your crumpled torn drawing. She picked it up and turned to address the class of wild six year olds, “Alright class, does anybody know what happened to Y/N’s picture?” Your teacher’s voice was gentle, “You won’t be in trouble but our friend is very sad so we need to apologise and make it right okay?” Your bottom lip wobbled as your sniffles quietened a little and a small voice could be heard from the back of the classroom, “I didn’t mean to!” A small boy stepped forwards, bright blonde hair with blue eyes and you glared at him. He looked down at the floor as he awkwardly scuffed his shoe against the carpet. The teacher approached him and crouched down, “Thank you for being honest Max… Can you come and say sorry?” He nodded and took the teacher’s hand as she lead him over to you, “I’m sorry…” His apology was accented by a slight lisp and you frowned, arms crossing in front of your chest. “Thank you Max, Y/N? Max said it was an accident and that he’s sorry okay?” You let out a slight ‘hmmph’ as the teacher straightened up at the sound of the lunch bell. Max was quick to run out of the classroom with his friends but you plodded behind the group, still sad about your artwork. 

You grabbed your lunchbox from your locker and looked for a chair in the lunch hall. Spotting your favourite yellow chair you couldn’t help but gasp as your little legs headed over as fast as they could carry you. You sat down and opened your lunchbox, legs swinging under the table. You’d barely taken two bites of your sandwich before a boy approached the table. You looked up and saw Max standing there, his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I broke your drawing.” Max did his best to speak so you’d understand.  “‘S fine.” You grumbled, annoyed he was talking to you. Six year old you could really hold a grudge… His cheeks tinted pink as he removed his hands from behind his back to hold out a small bunch of daisies he’d clearly picked from the playing field. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “Here, for you…” He took a step closer and you held your hand out for him to gently place the flowers in your palm. Your eyes looked at him and you noticed how his knees were slightly muddy and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. You giggled and he beamed back at you, you suddenly felt very shy,

“D-do you want to sit here?” You patted the seat next to you, “We can eat lunch together?” Max nodded, racing off to grab his lunchbox. He dashed back and sat next to you, unzipping his lunchbag to compare the contents with yours. “Are we going to be friends Max?” He nodded enthusiastically, taking your hand in his, “Mhmm! Best friends Y/N! So you can call me Maxie!” 

ii. yellow amaryllis; pride, happiness, strength, determination (age 18) “Smile!” You stood with your friends, taking pictures in your graduation gowns and giggling together. But your heart panged, something - or rather someone - was missing from your day. Your eyes scanned the hall, desperately looking for a familiar blonde head. Despite knowing he was currently halfway round the world at a Grand Prix, “Boo!” A hand covered your eyes and a grin spread across your face at the familiar voice, “Maxie!” Turning around, you jumped into his arms and he laughed out loud, “Easy there bug!” You could hear your friends and family laughing and taking pictures of the two of you behind you but you still didn’t pull away, too embarrassed to let anyone see that you had tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it…” Max squeezed you a little tighter, “I left as soon as the race was over, there was no way I was missing this!” You pulled back and he wiped the tear that had slipped down your cheek. He let go of you and extended his arm towards you, holding out a beautiful bouquet of yellow amaryllis flowers, complete with yellow and white ribbons. 

“Max,” you gasped “they’re so beautiful!” he nudged your shoulder with his, “Hey, you deserve it. They stand for pride, strength, happiness and determination.” “Determination” You spoke at the same time, finishing the sentence together. His eyes stared at you so adoringly, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. The moment was broken by your parents urging you to stand together for a picture. “What a beautiful couple!” You heard a teacher say as they walked past, “Oh no we’re not-” “Me and him? No way-” Both you and Max spoke over each other, completely missing the knowing looks your friends and family all gave each other. You couldn’t help the fresh wave of giggles that overtook you as Max pulled you into his side. You could have sworn that for the briefest of seconds, butterflies took flight in your stomach but you quickly brushed it off, blaming it on the excitement of the day. 

iii. - yellow roses; friendship | bluebells; comfort (age 22) Max couldn’t deny the way that panic flashed through his entire body when he answered your call and heard nothing but your sobs on the other end. “Maxie!” You hiccuped, “Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?” He stood up, not caring that he was interrupting an important team meeting. His alarm grew even more when your only response was to cry even harder. He looked back at the group of people sat around the conference table, “I’m sorry but it’s a family emergency, I have to go.” He raced down the corridor and poked the elevator button far more times than was necessary. “Talk to me bug… I can’t help if you don’t explain what’s going on.” “He cheated Max! I went to his place and he was in bed with my roommate.” Max felt a weird combination of calm and anger wash over him at the same time. Calm because he knew you were safe and anger because who the fuck did your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, think he was? Fuck the elevator, Max headed for the stairs, wanting to get to his car and book a flight to you as soon as possible. “Oh Y/N…” “Said he only did it because he knew that I’d been cheating on him with you.” You heard Max scoff, “God he’s so fucking dumb Y/N… I never really liked him, you know that right? You’ve always been too good for him…” You heard Max sigh on the other end of the line and you curled up into an even smaller ball in your bed, pulling Max’s hoodie up even more as your nose inhaled the comforting scent of him, 

“Can we move to facetime? Just wanna see you.” You choked out and he obliged, quickly filling your request. Max felt his heart breaking as he looked at you in your bed. “Hey! Is that my hoodie, bug?” You nodded with a sniffle as he did his best to cheer you up even just a little, “Traitor! You told me you didn’t know where it had gone…” A watery smile spread across your face. “Look, I’m gonna come see you okay?” You sat upright and stared at him hard, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you cannot do that! You have important meetings this week.” “Ooo full name?” He hissed through his teeth, “I am in trouble.” You shook your head at him, “You’re incorrigible.” “Big words we’re using today hmm?” You flipped him off and he laughed, “I’ll be there soon, bug okay?” You nodded and he smiled at you once more, “Just hang in there for a little longer.” He ended the call and immediately your smile dropped. In those brief few seconds you’d forgotten why you’d even called him in the first place. But now in the quiet of your apartment, the sad feelings crept up once more, smothering you and dragging you down. 

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep the night before, but the combination of the doorbell ringing and the knocking on the door jolted you awake. Rushing to the front door, you threw it open, still slightly disorientated from your rude awakening, “Hey bug.” “Maxie!” You felt wide awake staring at Max who now stood on your doorstep, a warm smile across his face. You immediately felt like bursting into tears once more and Max was quick to see that, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on top of yours. “It’s okay bug,” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” He waddled with you in his arms, through your doorway and into the hallway to close the door and give you some privacy. As he held you, he felt his heart race a little, thinking how he would never make you or let you cry like that if you were his girl - wait what? Now was not the time to be thinking about those kinds of things! Max held you until your sobbing had quietened down again, “Sorry,” you sniffed all snotty and he just poked your nose and laughed gently, “It’s okay Y/N.” His hand gently rubbed your arm as he watched you take a few deep breaths to compose yourself, “Here.” He pulled a somewhat squished bouquet of flowers out of what seemed like nowhere, “Sorry, they got a little uhhh… too involved in the hug?” You let out a breath of laughter and took them from him, a finger gently tracing the petals, “Yellow roses? For friendship right?” Max nodded with a smile, “Yellow roses, because I’m always gonna be your best friend who has your back and bluebells because they’re comforting.” You couldn’t help the way your heart clenched hearing his words. It seemed that Max not only bought you flowers often but he even thought of the meaning of what he was buying. For some reason, the thought had those pesky flutters appearing in your stomach but you quickly reprimanded yourself and shook them off. You hadn’t even broken up with your ex for more than 24 hours yet, but here you were thinking about Max romantically? You shook your head, that was a line you could never think of crossing, no matter how much it seemed to be crossing your mind more and more the older you got. 

iv. pink tulips; perfect love, affection (now) Now that you were living in Monaco, not too far from Max, movie nights were a common occurrence, with evenings being split between your apartment and his. Food would be ordered and wine would be drunk, movies would be played but barely watched as the two of you would end up talking into the night and continue long after the credits had finished rolling. If there was one thing you could count on Max for, it was his promptness and so when the clock read seven o’clock exactly, you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before you heard his footsteps down the hallway to your apartment. You were proven correct as Max let himself into your apartment, calling out as he did so, “Hey bug! It’s just me!” “In the living room!” You called back, smiling as he appeared in the doorway, holding something behind his back, “What have you got there hmm?” Max’s smile wavered for a second and you frowned, sitting up on the couch, “Max?” He exhaled and bit his lip nervously, “Maxie?” You tried again much more softly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, “I’m about to say something and…” He sighed, “I just want you to let me finish okay?” You nodded confused as he came to sit next to you, holding out a bouquet of pink tulips as he did so. You felt yourself gasp as you stared at the flowers, admiring the pretty wrapping and how the ribbon matched the flowers. You wracked your brain as you stared, desperately trying to recall the meaning, Max always gave flowers with meaning. Appreciation? No, apology? Nope not that... No. It couldn’t be? Could it? “Affection?” You didn’t even realise you’d spoken the word out loud but a sharp inhale from Max was enough to tell you he’d heard you. Your eyes shot up to his face and noticed he wouldn’t even look at you, instead choosing to gently trace over the bouquet ribbon, “Yes.” His cheeks were pink and you could have sworn you stopped breathing. It was silent in your apartment. The only noise coming from the traffic outside and the thump of your neighbour as their work boots clunked over the floor before their door slammed. The noise pulled you out of your silence as you stared at Max, “What did you just say?” Max finally dared to look up as he gazed into your eyes, “Pink tulips, affection, perfect l…” “Perfect what?” There was no way he was going to say what you thought he was going to say… “Perfect love.” You stood up from the couch, immediately pacing back and forth as your hands started to fumble together, “Max…” You breathed, finally stopping to look at him sat staring at you. “Okay so this is the part where I need you to listen…” You let out a laugh of disbelief but said nothing as he swallowed, hands nervously rubbing the legs of his jeans. “I like you.” You froze as he continued, “I like you and I think I honestly have for a while… I know that this might not be the best time to tell you but I just can’t keep kidding myself anymore. The feelings I have for you? They’re not things I would be feeling if you were just a best friend to me Y/N. God I think I always knew it was you… From the day I ruined your drawing and then when I surprised you at your graduation… And then that horrific breakup,” You both winced, “I swore then that I would never let you cry over another man like that again. Because I wanted to be the only man that you had from then on.” Your lips parted as a nervous exhale left you. He stopped his rambling, panting slightly as he looked at you, “If you have anything to say, now would be a good time to say it…” You looked at him. Max, your Max. The boy that had been there for you through everything, your best friend.

“No…” You whispered out, your own heart breaking at your words, “I can’t…” Max looked absolutely crushed, “No?” His voice was quiet, “Why?” You shrugged, bottom lip trembling, “I can’t risk losing you.” Max scoffed, “Losing me?” “What if we break up hmm? You’re telling me we would be able to go back to being best friends like nothing ever happened? What if it doesn’t work hmm?” Max shook his head as your spoke, “You think I would say this to you if I didn’t think it would work?” “I-I… I don’t know!” You exclaimed as Max stood up, “You won’t even try?” “I’m too scared to Max…” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you stared at him, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, “Me too.” he said before turning and walking out. The door hadn’t even closed behind him before you’d collapsed to the floor, your legs giving out. You’d never cried so hard because of him before. Not when he’d ripped your drawing, not when he'd surprised you at graduation, not even when he’d held you after your breakup. 

You stared at the pink tulips as they lay on your couch, their bright happy hopeful colour taunting you. You stalked over to them and picked them up, heading straight to the trash, pulling your arm back to throw them away but you found yourself physically unable to do it. 

i. flowers are a language of their own You weren’t sure whether it was convenient or not that Max had a double header after that conversation. Usually you would spam him while he was away and he would pick things up when he could. Often late at night in his hotel bed, a goofy grin plastered across his face as he opened your fit pics and food diary pics of the day, reading through your spam about work, friends and cute cats you’d spotted on the street.

But this time there had been nothing. From either of you. It had been strange and hurtful. You sighed as you checked your phone again for the millionth time that day, already knowing there would be no new notifications from him. Why would there be? The guy you liked had confessed to you and you’d broken his heart because you were too scared he’d break yours. Groaning you dropped your head to the kitchen counter, thumping your forehead against it a few times in the hope of gaining some sense of clarity. It didn’t work. You sighed and stood up straight. You were still kicking yourself for shutting him down so quickly. Yes, he was your Maxie, your best friend, but wasn’t that the point? He knew you so well, he cared for you and loved you, in whatever capacity. He would never intentionally hurt you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, there had been a continuous pull in your stomach and a slight ache in your chest the longer you went without talking to him. You knew if you could do the situation over again you would give a completely different answer. You didn’t want him to break your heart but now you had lost him completely. 

Your head shot up as a plan began to form in your head. Grabbing your phone you looked up plane tickets for the country you knew Max was in at the moment. You knew things would be tricky without his help and you didn’t even know if it would work out, but for him you had to try. Selecting your seat you rushed to pack a bag, noticing how the now dry and dead tulips still lay on your bedroom vanity, the pink now much less vibrant and tinged with brown. Your stomach flipped and you hoped to god it would all work out. You knew which hotel the team usually stayed at when they were racing in that specific country and so after making a quick stop you headed straight there, planning to just wait until you were spotted by someone from the team who recognised you and took pity on you. You didn’t have to wait long as one of Max’s race engineers was exiting the building just as your taxi pulled up. Clambering out of the vehicle as you spotted him, he smiled and waved, “Hey! Didn’t know you were coming this weekend? Max usually says something.” “Ah,” you shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to give anything away about your strained relationship, “it’s a surprise!” His eyes widened and he grinned at you knowingly, especially when he spotted what you carried in your arms. “Well… Seeing as it’s you, I’ll give you his room number.” After obtaining the information you needed you thanked him and headed inside, getting on the elevator and pressing the button for his floor as you thanked whatever higher powers there were that so far the plan was working. As the bell dinged for your floor you gulped, a whole new wave of nerves and anxiety washing over you. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he got angry with you and sent you away? But what if he heard you out? Oh crap, what were you gonna say? 

Through your internal rambling, you had somehow managed to walk to his door and now you stood frozen. Unable to knock and unable to move. Swallowing the lump in your throat you knocked the door gently. You heard a crash and then a curse in Dutch came from inside and you winced. Oh god, if he was already in a bad mood… This wouldn’t help. The door swung open and a tired looking Max stood there. Dressed in cosy sweatpants and navy hoodie, no logos in sight but still fitting his team colours. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in front of him.  “Y/N?” You gave the softest of smiles nervously, “Hi Maxie.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you saw him. You’d thought about how he might yell or cry or get mad or slam the door in your face but you certainly hadn’t expected him to grab your arms and pull you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, “Fuck, I missed you so much I’m so sorry…” You sniffled, pulling back and looking at him, “Why are you sorry?! I’m sorry! I never should have doubted you-” “I never should have pressured you-” “You didn’t! I never should have jumped to conclusions about how things would end. God. It’s been so miserable without you…” You noticed his eyes growing tearful. “Here, come in.” He gently pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. Your eyes swept the room and zeroed in on an object on his bed, “Is that my t-shirt?” You asked incredulously, mouth gaping at him slightly as he rushed to shove it in his suitcase, “N-no!” “Max Emilian…” Your voice was low, “M-maybe…” You gave him a pointed stare and he relented, “Okay yes fine it is.” He sighed, “I found it at my apartment that night when I got back and… I just… I didn’t have you and it was the closest thing…” He trailed off, sitting on the bed. You padded across the room to take a seat next to him, one hand gently rubbing his back, “I know Maxie… Me too.” His head rested on your shoulder and you inhaled shakily, it was now or never. 

You looked back across the room at where your things lay in the entrance. You stood up and made your way over, picking up what you needed before turning back to him with your arms behind your back. “I’m about to say something…” His head shot up to look at you, “and I need you to let me finish.” You gave him a tearful smile and he swore he felt his breathing quicken as you practically echoed his words from a few weeks ago. You approached him and offered him the bouquet from behind your back. He stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked up to look at yours.

“Red roses?” You nodded, unable to keep looking at him - partly shy and partly terrified of his answer, until he gently held your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze once more, “Red roses.” “You know what they mean don’t you?” “I picked them for a reason.” He stood up and gently took them from you, one hand sliding round your waist to pull you into him, “Baby’s breath?” “Baby’s breath.” You looked down, breathing your answer as his face got closer to yours. “Is this your speech then?” You let out a breath, “I figured I would let the flowers speak for themselves, god knows you’ve been doing it long enough.”

His lips were practically on yours and it took everything in you to keep standing as his next words were brushed against your lips, “Is this your answer then?” You nodded, “No schat, please… Let me hear you say it…” His eyes closed as he felt your shuddering breath, “Yes, Max. Yes, I want to try with you, I love you and that’s enough to tell me we should try-” Any further words you had were cut off by Max’s lips meeting yours. His grip around your waist tightened, the flowers sliding from his other hand to the floor as he gently cupped your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek. You couldn’t help the way you smiled against his lips and he laughed at the feeling, the two of you giggling and grinning between kisses like the lovesick idiots you were. 

Red roses; declaration of love, Baby’s breath; eternal love.   

[leaawrites]

Good Graces (LN4)

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: when he does something suspect, he has to live with the consequences. Unless he stays in her good graces.

Warnings: swearing, talk about insecurities, almost breaking up, fluff, a bit of angst, secret relationship

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

She could tolerate a lot, she really could. But a line must be drawn before everything and a thin one can have contrasts like no other. White can turn into black in a mere second by one wrong step. Or one too much.

“You’ve been acting so weird lately,” Lando said, standing on the opposite side of the room. Hands on his hips and a sour look on his face.

The photos and the rumors were enough to make her mad, though she decided to keep quiet until she saw him in person again. Now, that he was home, standing in front of her, she cornered him the moment he walked into the apartment. Instead of a sweet kiss he was greeted by red eyes and a mad woman.

It wasn’t the first thing he said, it wasn’t even the second or the third. But slowly, with every question following the last, his worry turned into annoyance. The jet lag taking a tool on him. All he wanted was to lie in bed with his girlfriend and cuddle until it was all over, but she wasn’t having it. She could tolerate a lot, but him overstepping the line with every rumor he doesn’t shut down and letting people believe what was not true and only feeding into their take on his reality even more was becoming too much.

“I’m acting weird? You’re being out more with this girl than your own girlfriend at this point,” she defended herself. Tears threatening to spill once more. Spilling more of her feelings than she ever meant to reveal.

“I’m with you every second I can get off from work. I take time off from my sleep to talk to you no matter how late it is, what are you talking about?” His voice got harsher the more he talked.

“You know how I feel about you hanging out with her so much,” she tried getting her point across. “You know it and still you go on vacation with her! Fucking vacation, Lando! I wasn’t even there, I was working and had to find out over fucking Instagram.”

“I told you, that I was going with friends and you were fine with that!”Lando stepped closer to you, his arms flying around the air with every word he spoke.

“I thought it would just be Max or so.”

“Why are you so god damn insecure?”

When you overstep that line it’s hard to get back, but it’s easy to notice. It’s easy to notice to everyone involved. Lando notices as his eyes go wide, filling with guilt, noticing his stupidity. He started stuttering and stumbling over his words, trying to fight his way back but she wouldn’t let him. Not like that.

“Oh, I’m sorry that I actually care about this relationship,” she said, walking past his frozen body and towards their bedroom. “Seems like I’m the only one.”

Flowers and chocolates in the morning wouldn’t get her to soften at the mere sight of it, Lando knew that. He needed something more, something better and more validating. Something that truly showed he cared about them. And when she walked into an empty apartment the next morning with flowers and chocolate decorating the dinner table, she knew it would just be the beginning of a very long week of putting down her lover.

Messages were next, hundreds of texts and even more little letters hidden away in pockets or on his pillow when she woke up alone once again. ‘I love you’s’ or ‘I hope you’re having a great day’. Sometimes little drawing were next to the words, and sometimes he left a flirty comment. But after all it were just written words, not spoken ones.

“Maybe you’re expecting too much?” One of her friends said as Y/n complained to her about the situation and how Lando seemed to still not have time for her. It even seemed like he was just more distant now. Maybe she was too much. Maybe she wanted too much for a woman in love with a racing driver.

“I just want to feel validated,” she confessed, taking another sip of her drink. “Is that really expected too much?”

Maybe she expected too much from the wrong person, she thought as she laid in bed that night.

“Lando,” she called out once she heard the door to their apartment open. Footsteps stopping for a moment to listen carefully if he’d just imagined her calling out to him or if it was real. When she repeated it he finally closed the door and stepped into the living room.

Seeing his girlfriend up at this hour with her laptop prepped up on her legs and working, the TV playing some show or movie in the background. Glasses on her face.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted her, walking up to her and kissing her head.

Looking over her shoulder to see the screen in front of her filled with work stuff. Stuff she assumed he was never interested in. Truth been told, he enjoyed listening to her talk about her job. It felt like a completely different life in contrast to his. Nothing there was filled with paparazzi or strict diets and work-out plans. She actually had time off. Colleagues she didn’t had to fight with in order to keep her job. Colleagues that were completely different people on and off track. For her, it was all one straight, maybe with some curbs or turns on the way, but never too many for her to get as impacted by it as he did.

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, nothing important. Just lousy work stuff.” Shutting the laptop as he sat down next to her, she put it away to turn to him fully. She didn’t want to loose him, she really didn’t. But some things were meant to be spoken out loud, no matter the outcome. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. That’s why I stayed up.”

“What about?” He threw an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer and resting his lips on her hair.

“I knew, I couldn’t talk to you in the morning because you’d already be busy when I wake up and after training and everything you’d pack your stuff, game a bit and then get ready for bed early to get your plane tomorrow.” She took a deep breath, sitting up and looking at him properly. “I want you to be completely honest with me and I want you to know I will not hate you, OK?”

“Baby, you’re scaring me. What’s up?” Lando looked genuinely, sickly worried. Sitting up straight to show his concern, taking her hands in his.

“If you wanna break up with me, say it. I can’t take more distance or confusion. I just want clearance and if that is us breaking up, I think it’d be better than dancing around each other as if we’re just roommates or some shit.”

His whole face dropped at the proposal, she could see it all unfold in front of her. His jaw went slack, his eyes grew wider and it seemed like all of the colour left his face the moment her words were spoken. “No, no, no, no,” he quickly said, taking her shoulder and rushing out every word he could think of. “I - fuck, no. That was never even a thought I had. God, please don’t think that. I was just so busy with everything going on at the moment, you know. The potential Championship and having to show that I deserved that seat at McLaren. I don’t want you to think that, ever. OK?”

“I just thought, maybe you were getting bored of me. With all the other stuff happening around you.”

“I could never get bored of you.”

If only there was proof to his words. Proof she could rely on. She was supposed to trust him blindly, so why did it seem so unbearable now? The thought of relying solely on one person and their words. He said that now, but what would be in a few years? What would be after another holiday she couldn’t accompany him on? What would be after another long, drunk night in a club he was in alone? Without her. All because of work, all because she couldn’t go with him and had to stay home. All to keep their relationship hidden and safe from the public. Only that it was breaking behind the curtains.

“I don’t think I can go on like this any longer,” she finally said what had been on her mind for weeks now. “I love you, I really do. But I can’t help but think that maybe we aren’t meant to be together for longer than now.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous?”

He had to be kidding, right? He had to. How was she being ridiculous in this moment? All she said was valid, right? Right?

“How can you firstly think, that I’m gonna get bored of you, when you’re literally the most interesting, funniest, most beautiful person, I’ve ever met. Secondly, I believe I have a word to say about this relationship and it’s future as well. I hated the thought of sharing you with the public and all it’s opinions. But the more I thought about it, I don’t hate showing you off.”

“Hold up.” She put her hands up to make him stop talking, looking at him directly and serious. “What are you trying to say? I’d like a short summary of the whole speech and all I haven’t yet heard, of course.”

“Of course,” he nodded with a smile on his face. “Y/n Y/l/n, I love you and if you’re willing to, I would like to make you my publicly known girlfriend.”

“I think I’m gonna faint actually,” she joked with a still rather straight face. “Are you being serious?”

“You can take Thursday and Friday off of work and come with me and Max on his private jet. Kelly said she missed you, so that would be the prefect opportunity for you to catch up and meet all the others. I’d be perfect,” he started rambling his already made up plan. A huge smile covering his face and excitement radiating from him not going unnoticed by no one. “What do you say?”

“I-,” she started talking, but quickly cleared her throat when her voice went an octave higher than normally. “Yeah, I’d love to. I’ve thought about it as well, actually. I know it could be hard, but I’m willing to go through that, with you.”

Capturing her lips with his, she knew this was worth it. The sole feeling of him against her was enough to make was between them worth fighting for. A simple touch and he made her feel whole, and vice versa.

Pulling away from his lips, she pointed her finger at him, “But I swear, you do something suspect and you can kiss my ass goodbye. I’m not kidding.”

“Me neither, baby. Me neither.”

[cutielando]

secret | m.v.

synopsis: in which you're in love with the enemy

my masterlist

You couldn't stop giggling, desperately trying to keep your lips on Max's. 

"Shh, you're gonna get us caught, you know" Max mumbled against your lips, searching his pockets for the hotel room card.

"I don't even care right now"" you whispered back, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck to hold yourself up.

Max had officially been crowned the World Champion for the third time in a row and, seeing as you couldn't celebrate with him in the paddock, you were desperate to get your hands on each other the moment you arrived at the hotel.

You had told your uncle, Toto, that you weren't feeling well and would call it a night early to make sure nobody would mind you missing the team celebrations and debriefs.

"God damn it" Max cursed as he pulled away from you and frantically searched his pockets again, smiling when he finally pulled out the card.

"Allow me" you whispered sultry, turning around and pushing yourself against him, which made him groan.

You smiled to yourself as you pushed the key card in, eager to celebrate your boyfriend the way he deserved to be celebrated.

However, as soon as you pushed Max inside the room, before you could even think about following him, a voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Y/N?" your first instinct was to freeze on the spot but you immediately shut the door to Max's room, trying to make yourself look presentable before turning around and looking at Max's engineer, Lambiase.

"Hi, Gianpero" you were trying to keep the emotions which were running high through your body at bay, hoping he hadn't noticed anything that would raise his suspicions.

"What are you doing here? This is Max's room" he was confused, but it didn't seem like he had any suspicions whatsoever about what you could have been doing there.

"Oh, I just figured I would swing by and congratulate him because I didn't get around to it at the track. Wasn't feeling well so I didn't go out and saw this opportunity before he went to bed" the easiness with which you just lied to this man surprised even you, as well as Max who had his ear against the door and was listening to your conversation.

"Oh, yeah, makes sense. Isn't Toto looking for you? Does he know you're here?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah, I told him I would stop by Max's room to say congrats before going to bed" you nodded, eyeing the engineer to make sure he would buy your story.

He thought for a moment before nodding, wishing you a good night and departing down the hall to his own room.

After making sure there was nobody else that could see you, you knocked on Max's door and he was quick to open it, tugging you close and kissing you again.

"You're hot when you lie" he whispered, teasing you as you rolled your eyes but fell deeper into the kiss.

"Shut up"

♡♡♡♡♡

Working for Mercedes this particular Max-dominated season was a bitch, to put it like that. You couldn't even congratulate your boyfriend on his wins in public, fearing it would draw attention to both of you and your relationship would become public.

Something neither of you wanted, for now.

You knew it would give Toto a heart attack, so you preferred to wait and see if the relationship was as serious as you thought it was before you told him anything.

However, Max was getting tired of hiding all the time. He loved you, and even though sneaking around everyone's back was fun, he wanted everyone to know how happy he was with you.

He didn't want to hide anymore.

"Babe?" he had been meaning to talk to you about this for a while now, and figured the end of the season was as good of an opportunity as you were going to get.

"Yes?" you were in the bathroom, doing your skincare routine before getting ready for bed.

You had both decided to remain in Abu Dhabi for a couple more days after the season finish, all the other teams having already packed and left for their homes.

Your uncle was especially finding it weird that you wanted to stay longer and even offered to stay with you, but you insisted you would be fine on your own and just wanted to go on an adventure by yourself.

"I've been meaning to ask you something for a little while" he started, fiddling with his fingers.

You didn't say anything, only speaking once you exited the bathroom and took a seat next to him on the shared bed of your hotel room.

"What's up?" you were caressing his slightly damp hair, having taken a shower just before you.

"I know we've been having fun sneaking around and so for the last couple of months, but I think it's time to let everyone know about us? The season's over, everything is cooling down" he explained, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles.

You thought it through in your head, not speaking for a couple of moments. He was right. The season was over, the public attention would soon die down, the tensions between the teams were always gone during the winter break, your uncle was always relaxed and let go of everything during the holidays. It would be the perfect opportunity.

"Let's do it" you finally spoke up, watching his face slowly lighten up and his eyes starting to twinkle.

"Really?" he was slightly shocked, having been sure that you would be opposed to the idea altogether.

"Yes. I know I've been asking a lot from you, hiding this for so many months because I didn't want to tarnish your reputation. You've been patient with me, plus it was about time I showed the world you're mine and only mine" you cupped his cheek and pecked his lips, smiling once you saw the happy expression on your boyfriend's face.

"I love you" he said before attacking your face with kisses, making you giggle.

"I love you too"

♡♡♡♡♡

y/n.y/l/n & maxverstappen1 you make me a better person <3

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[s-rosie]

Javery Hcssss

hi guysssss! I hope you like these hcs and enjoyed them as much as i liked making them. I took some of the tips. I got from my last post and used to them to make these. Please comment any more ways I can improve. I’m always trying to get better. Thank you.

when jameson first started dating her, she had never received romantic affection, so she had no idea to react to it and just combusted

jamie leaves the biggest and darkest hickeys on her and she sometimes doesn’t even realize until she hears snickering

at a gala, one time avery pulled jameson into the bathroom and they made out until alisa came looking for them, averys red lipstick stained his face and there was no makeup to cover it up causing alisa to just scream at them for like 20 minutes and he walked around the gala with lipstick stains on his face the rest of the night

avery once told jameson what she always wanted her first dance song to be, and a few hours later he called her to help her find her phone and her ringtone for him was that song (in my mind it is timeless by ts but you decide)

she had so much trouble showing jameson just how much she loved him at first, so she would write him letters telling him her feelings, jameson then incorporated some of the things ave wrote in the letters into his wedding vows (she also included some of things he said in his love confession in tfg in her vows (they both started sobbing and no one else knew why))

avery and jamie make each other scrapbooks about things they do together

jameson goes up randomly to ave and takes a 0.5 of her, that photo then becomes his lock screen for the day

whenever the song call me maybe comes on, jamie SCREAMS that song to ave no matter if they are in public or not

they watch disney movies and go to the parks together all the time

sometimes when it rains, they go to a secluded part of the estate and slow dance

they once got food poisoning together from a 3:00 am taco bell run and they held each other while the other threw up

when they were still in school, jamie did theatre and avery was the assistant director just so she could watch jamie preform. he also had to stage kiss and almost dropped out because he felt like he was cheating on ave. she assured him it was fine

jameson once did avery’s makeup and hair and it looked so good people thought it was professionally done

once ave asked jameson what she should get done to her nails, and he responded with something like “rounded square nude french tips” and she just sat there like “how the hell does he know that”

when jamie gives avery one of his jackets, he always pretends like he’s not cold and ave finds it adorable

jamie was once on avery’s phone and read some of the texts she sent max about him (like her absolutely thirsting for him) and he was so surprised because it was a major flip from her usual self

he always opens car doors and pulls out ave’s seat

like i said in my last hc post about them being theatre kids and dressing up like eliza and ham for halloween, he was posting stuff the whole night like “my life is going fine because elliza is in it” and she was posting stuff like “he better say no to this” while he looked over at another girl in a red dress (everyone thought it was adorable and hilarious)

jameson can sketch and draw pretty well, and ave can paint, so they once made a custom chess board

no matter if they admit it or not, they cannot sleep without each other. like if the other is out working late or sum, the one in bed cannot fall asleep.

jamie loves braiding avery’s hair and he even watches tutorials on how to make complex braids so her looks unique. when people ask who/how she did her hair, she responds with an excited “oh! it was jamie, hes the best!” and he just smiles proudly.

they make up very complicated yet super cute handshakes that they do often

they once made a tiktok of them singing promiscuous and the fans went BALLISTIC

avery once waxed jameson’s eyebrows and gave him acrylic nails for fun (he looked absolutely fabulous)

i really hope you liked theseee! please let me know how i can improve. also my inbox is open if you have any requests or recommendations. thank you so much!

[leighsartworks216]

How the LADS men would react to some of my favorite games

All x Reader (separately, and it's not the main focus)

Picking out games for them all was kinda difficult, bc I have so many favorites and I wasn't sure what they'd react to or how they'd react. But I'm pretty happy with these

Based on this post

Warnings: crackfic (kinda?), one horror game, slight angst with Zayne, swearing

Word Count: 1,123 (oh hell yeah)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Psst fill this out to be tagged in future fics! - Updated to include Xavier)

Xavier:

I think Xavier would love The Outer Worlds

I mean,, it’s a game that takes place entirely in another solar system where you crash land in an escape pod on a strange planet and gotta figure out how people here work without letting them know you’re “not from here”

They literally call the player “The Stranger”

I think he’d love looking up at the sky in game

Every one of the sky boxes is gorgeous but Emerald Vale especially

I think he’d find a safe area in game and put it on just to stare up at the sky (and fall asleep too)

Tries to choose the best outcome for every situation

Which means fucking over the government and not feeling an ounce of guilt for it

But fucking over the underdogs even for a minute feels awful

Has to ask you which choice is better or how to get the best outcome

Scarily good at fighting with melee weapons

Esp considering the heavy reliance on guns

Accidentally min-maxes the characters

He’d also love Coffee Talk

The music is so calming he usually ends up falling asleep to it

Spends a lot of time and consideration into every drink

Draws a little bunny in the lattes every single time

Probably accidentally clocks the plot twist of the game on the very first run

Tries making you the drinks irl and uhhhh he shouldn’t

-

Zayne:

Of the games I’ve played, I think The Silent Age would be very interesting for him

Helps solve the puzzles (even if you’ve played it before)

Says he finds the art style to be “charming”

Sits through every piece of dialogue no matter how long and doesn’t go forward until he comprehends it

Gets so concerned when Joe starts coughing

Generally doesn’t like seeing the bodies

It makes him unsettled and has him thinking about those he’s lost to such gruesome deaths

The twist at the end absolutely fascinates him so much

And the SECOND twist pulls him out of it

Was lowkey hoping it would be something more… fantastical

But does have to admit that horror in the now-mundane is interesting too

I also would LOVE to watch him play Ace Attorney

Could you IMAGINE???

“This is illegal.” “I know, but so is murder.” “They don’t cancel out, you know.”

“If somebody on the witness stand is overreacting that much to one small detail, I think the judge should be a little more concerned about it.”

He’d kinda love Miles Edgeworth ngl

Understands exactly what he means with the entire “unnecessary feelings” business

Wishes the autopsy reports were more in depth, for his own amusement

Accidentally says “objection” when you’re trying to lie to him about not taking care of yourself

Can’t live it down for the next week, at LEAST

-

Sylus:

Little Nightmares, straight up

He finds the concept absolutely fascinating

Doesn’t play, but enjoys watching you play

“Careful, kitten. His long arms almost grabbed you.” “YES, THANK YOU, I NOTICED.”

Loves to see you so panicked and freaked out

Laughs if something small makes you jump out of your skin

But he does try to comfort you after chase sequences when it feels like you’re having a heart attack

Pulls you into his lap and promises to protect you

Will not complain if you choose to stay there for the rest of the game

Helps you solve puzzles if you’re struggling with them for too long

But he always asks to know if you want the answer

He doesn’t need you pouting and upset just because you couldn’t figure out how to do something relatively simple

Warns the twins not to scare you for a while

For their own safety tbh

You have a gun and you WILL use it

He’d also like watching you play Animal Crossing

You can and will bully him into joining

Will catch the scary or difficult bugs for you if you’re struggling

Doesn’t need to look up any guides to find the real artworks

The very second he can get his hands on the cat cap, it’s going to you

Might ask what color you want, but he’s more likely to pick it for you so its a surprise

Wraps it up too

“Sweetie, I got you a gift.” “Awe, really?.... Really, Sylus?” “Put it on, kitten.”

Luke and Kieran have their own town

It’s extremely flushed out and scary how impressive it is

Runs turnips with them so you have nearly a billion Bells to spend on anything you want

He lets you design his house, even if you make it silly

-

Rafayel:

Tell me why my first thought was Pokemon Art Academy

He would love it tho

Sitting on the couch together, watching over your shoulder as you follow the tutorials to draw the Pokemon

They turn out like shit but he claims to love them

Passing it over to him is a bad idea, but he won’t stop whining until you do

Creates an entire masterpiece

That creature is in a damn candid shot, shaded and everything

You should have known it was a terrible idea to show him the game

When he doesn’t feel like painting or just needs a break for his mind, he’ll play it

Honestly I see him at one of his own exhibitions, standing in the corner and playing it

Thomas complains to you about it all the time

Rafayel texts you about how much the Pokemon miss you and want you to come over :’(((

Beats the game

Somehow

Not just the lessons either, literally every single drawing they give you to do, he does it

When you look at the gallery, you can see when you stopped playing and when he took over

He’d also love Little Inferno

Sings the jingle all the time until you’re threatening him to shut up

Doesn’t honestly understand the appeal at first

He can literally make and control fire, why can’t you just give him some stuff to burn and he’ll do it for you

But he slowly gets the appeal

Especially when the batteries explode

Hates the pooping cat plushie with a passion

“If that thing ever shows up in a claw machine, we are NOT getting it.”

He either fully completes the game, combos and all, or he gets to the second catalog and gets bored, no in between

Will happily watch you play tho

Loves the way you focus on trying to decipher the clues for the combos

No shame, WILL be looking up the combinations and WILL spoil them for you just to bug you

May plan a date around throwing shit into a fireplace and watching it burn in real life

There’s a fire extinguisher nearby, just in case

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44

[lilyrizzy]

day 3 of 12 days of the maxiel advent calendar lol. this one is sad in a bittersweet way. content warning for a discussion focused around the loss of a newborn child. Please don't read if that is something too upsetting to you <3 set in the same universe as this.

Underneath the apple tree in their garden, there’s a patch of daffodils.

They bloom every springtime, the vibrant shades of sunshine yellow enough to light up whatever room they are put into. The first bunch, Max always likes to arrange in the vase Grace and Joe gave them as a wedding gift, the second, third and fourth into each of the babies rooms. The air of the ranch becomes sweet with their scent, and at lunchtimes when Livia and Oli are called inside from playing, sticky pollen covers their fingertips.

“Papa,” Livia says to him on one of these September days, and Max knows to brace himself for a question by the curiosity laced in her voice. Like always, she does not disappoint.

“What happened to our big brother?”

The breath catches in Max’s throat.

He and Daniel had always agreed they would never keep their first son’s existence a secret from their children, no matter how hard it might be to help them understand. The idea of Theo becoming something that could only be spoken about in hushed whispers at convenient times was too painful when every day they felt his loss. The absence of a fourth pitch of giggles to hear playing from the next room every day, a second curly head for them to tuck safely into bed each night.

But this is the first time Livia has ever mused the ‘why’, of that out loud.

She is drawing a picture titled my family, her ‘homework’ for nursery. Max can see their flattering stick figure portraits, her and Oli almost as big as he and Daniel are, while Toni resembles an earthworm on the ground beside the four of them. In the top right-hand corner, just underneath the sun, she has drawn her eldest brother, complete with a set of pink angel wings.

“Me and Daddy told you, remember?” Max reminds her, but gently. His patience for his children is endless in a way it never was for racing. “Theo is in heaven.”

Max isn’t sure he believes in heaven, knows for a fact Daniel doesn’t, but he also knows how important it is for children to have good things to have faith in and to hope for, like the tooth fairy or Santa Clause. A source of comfort, the way his mum lighting candles used to be for him.

Livia nods seriously, busy scribbling what Max guesses is supposed to be Daniel’s hair if the twisting lines are anything to go by. Then, seemingly no longer satisfied with this answer she asks, “Why is he not with us?”

Daniel is out with Oli and Toni at the aquarium. The only reason Max and Livia aren’t with them is because in thirty minutes, they have to leave for the under 5’s football training Livia loves so much.

She get’s that from her Papa, Daniel likes to remind him, as though mashing keys on FIFA is comparable to the overexcited way their daughter squeals when she scores a goal.

Alone, Max feels totally unprepared for this. Daniel is so much better at wrapping the world up into words their children can understand and make peace with. For a moment, he almost asks her for a cuddle, the selfish reassurance of her warmth and the rise and fall of her chest as he holds her, but he doesn’t want to clue her into how hard this is for him.

He is her Papa, one of the two people who are meant to stand between her and all the bad in the world. Instead, he reaches to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she continues to draw and thinks back to how Theo’s little tuft had been all brown.

“When he was born, he was very poorly,” Max explains, and though it has been a very long time, it is as easy as anything to remember him in his hospital bed, tubes, wires and needles all protruding from his skin, tinged a sickly grey. “He wasn’t strong, like you, Oli and Toni.”

“Because he didn’t eat his carrots?” Livia asks, looking up at Max with owlish eyes, and Max has to laugh, charmed by her childish logic, her belief in everything he and Daniel tell her. He knows this phase won’t last forever, that they’ll soon be replaced with teachers and google, but for now he lets himself enjoy it.

“No,” he promises, shaking his head. “No, because something went wrong, when he was inside the tummy. Remember like me and Daddy told you that you used to be, also?”

She nods, enthusiastic suddenly to show off her knowledge.

“You had to find a lady to keep us in their belly so we could be borned,” she recites, and Max smiles. It feels like yesterday she was as small as Theo, and now she is big and smart, and her own little person, the way all of his babies got to be except for one.

“Exactly,” he encourages. “Well, when Theo was in the belly, something bad happened, so that when he was born he was sick. It made him very tired, and so he had to go to sleep forever, in heaven.”

Livia chews her lip like that still might not be enough to appease her. Max is just thinking about how to reword it, when-

“Will I ever get to see him?” She asks, like this has been the real reason for her line of questioning all along.

Thinking about the patch of daffodils where he and Daniel scattered the ashes of their first born’s, Max considers telling her that she sees him every spring, when Daniel goes out to collect a bunch to place in vases all around their home. That in a way, Theo has watched over her every year from his spot on their dresser, bringing added sunshine into their bedroom.

She is too little now though to truly understand. In time she will, but for now he wants to hold onto all the ways she is still his baby for just a little while longer. He is in no hurry for her to grow up.

“I don’t think so,” he says honestly, with an apologetic smile. “But I think he see’s you, watches you and your brother and sister play from the sky.”

Livia pauses, like maybe she has more questions and again Max braces himself.

“Okay,” is all she says though, and then she is picking up her crayons again. Max can’t help but lean over to kiss the top of her head, then tickle her side until she giggles, and swats him away telling him seriously, “Papa, you will make my drawing wonky.”

“Sorry, liefje,” he says, matching her tone, and then reaches for his phone.

Livy just asked me about Theo, he texts to Daniel. The last thing in their message thread is a photo of Oli, nose and palms pressed against the shark tank, and beneath it four words, our brave little fucker.

Unsurprisingly it’s only a few seconds before Daniel is typing a response.

its normal for her to have questions, and Max resists the urge to roll his eyes fondly, because of course, Max knows this.

Then, big kiss coming your way in approx 78 minutes, Mr Verstappen-Ricciardo.

Then, I love you.

I love you too, Max texts back, pocketing his phone. There isn’t much to be said over text, or even in person maybe, other than an repeat of what Livia asked, what Max explained to her. Everything else has already been said and these days can the pain can be shared with a simple kiss, and an evening holding each other as they watch their children play.

 Turning his attention back to Livia now, her little hands clenched tightly in fists around a black crayon, he notices the strange circle shapes she is drawing over angel Theo’s eyes.

“What are these?” He asks bemused, pointing to them.

“Glasses Papa,” she says, like she thinks this should be very obvious. “Theo needs them to see us, if he is so high up.”

[danifesting]

A birthday present for my dear, beloved friend @nobrakesdown. Cove, I hope you have the wonderful birthday you deserve. Thanks for being my friend, writing buddy, sounding board and everything in between.

*****

Daniel's heat is late. First one week, then two, then three. At four weeks he starts to worry. He's usually like clockwork, has been since his first heat at 15, but now, not even a skin prickle at the back of his neck. He makes an appointment with his gynecologist and goes into the office more anxious than he'd like to admit.

The nurse gets him in the room and takes his temperature, a little high but not a fever. His blood pressure is high too.

"Ha, sorry," he says to the nurse, a pretty beta with long blonde hair. "Just a little anxious."

"That's okay. It's not uncommon and it's not in a danger zone or anything," she assures him. "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

Daniel hums. He's been on birth control a long time. "I doubt it."

"Well, either way, we have to have you take a pregnancy test." She hands him a cup. "Just pee in here and leave it on the counter next to the door. When you're done, undress from the waist down and press the button on the wall to let us know you're ready, okay?"

Daniel gives her a thumbs up and does as he's instructed. The wait for the doctor is agonizingly slow. He scrolls through Instagram on his phone but it doesn't do anything to speed up the passage of time. Eventually the doctor knocks.

"Come in," Daniel calls out and Dr. Bernard comes in.

"Well, Daniel," she says, sitting down on the stool next to the table. "I'm just going to start with this. Your pregnancy test came back positive."

"But…" Daniel says, starting to sweat.

"I know you're on birth control but have you missed any doses?" She asks kindly.

"No, never. I take it at the same time every day. I have a special alarm and everything."

"Have you been sick? Taken any antibiotics?"

"I had a sinus infection about a month ago and the doctor gave me something for it."

"Did he warn you that antibiotics can make birth control less effective and that you should use backup contraception until after your next heat?"

"Uh... He did not. Was he supposed to?" Daniel asks with raised eyebrows.

Dr. Bernard sighs. "They never tell people what they should. Well, I'm sorry if it's bad news, and we'll take a blood test to confirm just to be sure, but you're pregnant."

Daniel puts his face in his hands. Fuck, what is he going to do? What is he going to tell Max? They've really only just gotten together. Only a few very happy months and now Daniel's gone and ruined it.

Dr. Bernard pats Daniel on the knee. "I'll give you a moment and then we'll do your pelvic exam."

She steps out of the room and Daniel texts Max.

Daniel: are you busy today?

Max: just finished at the sim

Daniel: can you meet me at mine in like an hour?

Max: i'll be there

Daniel sighs and sets his phone down. They do the pelvic exam, take Daniel's blood, tell him they'll call him with the results tomorrow and to talk about next steps from there.

Max is already in his apartment when Daniel gets home, sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. He looks up when Daniel comes in and smiles, wide and happy but his face falls when he sees Daniel, turning to concern. Daniel kicks off his shoes and crosses the room.

"Hi Maxy," he says and collapses down onto the couch next to him. "I have some news."

"Good or bad?" Max asks, eyebrows drawing in.

"Um, I haven't really decided yet. Still kind of in shock about it." Daniel rubs a hand over his face. "I'm pregnant." He keeps his face hidden in his hands.

"Daniel," Max says, voice hushed. He pulls Daniel's hands away from his face.

Daniel gives him a wry smile. "Surprise? I'm so sorry. I know we didn't plan for it, but I think I'm keeping the baby," he says, which is a surprise to himself as he says but it's true. He is. Fuck, he's gonna be a dad.

"Daniel," Max says again and his face is broken open into a wide grin, eyes scrunched tight and happy. "This was, of course, not something we have talked about before but if you want this, I want this, yeah?"

"Really?" Daniel asks, feeling his eyes well with tears. Stupid pregnancy hormones.

"Of course, Daniel. Yes. I have always wanted children and…"

"But we've only been dating a few months."

Max laughs. "And I have been in love with you since I was 18. Let's have a baby Daniel."

"You and me, huh?" Daniel asks, matching Max's laughter.

"You and me," Max assures. "I'll be with you the whole way."

And now, now Daniel feels hopeful instead of the terror he felt sitting in that doctor's office listening to his test results. He won't be in this alone. He has Max by his side and maybe they can do this. Maybe it will be okay.

The blood test results come back positive the next morning. Max holds Daniel's hand as they listen to Dr. Bernard lay out their next steps, the ultrasound appointment he'll have next week, the email she'll send with pregnancy nutrition and prenatal vitamins, all of it, and instead of overwhelmed like he thought he'd be, Daniel feels happy, like this is the right choice, like he and Max are starting a life together along with the life inside him.

Max kisses him when the phone call is over. He puts his hand on Daniel's belly and kisses him again, and Daniel knows things are going to be alright, better than even. Things are going to be great.

[herohimbowhore]

Daniel Ricciardo: Castles Crumbling

Revisionism and recency bias are perhaps two of the most common things that you'll see in Formula 1 and discussions of how we view drivers. It all goes back to the saying "You're only as good as your last race." This, while true in some sense, is only part of the picture when it comes to a driver and the legacy they'll leave in the sport. One race does not define a driver, just as a small portion of a driver's career does not define the driver.

But in commentary and fan discussions, we continue to see that revisionism and recency bias continue to define driver's careers on everchanging standards.

This season, the argument would be that that Carlos Sainz is a better driver than Charles Leclerc due to any of the following reasons:

He's won a race this year

Ahead in the points

Consistently finishing races in the points

But looking at their careers as a whole, the argument falls apart.

Another case of this is Lewis Hamilton in 2022. He finished behind his teammate in the points, didn't win a race, etc. And that year alone had people questioning if Lewis Hamilton was washed or if he should retire. But again, looking at the career as a whole and not zeroing in on one piece of it, makes the argument fall apart.

A driver's legacy isn't based solely on a piece of their career. Alex Albon's career isn't going to be defined just by the Red Bull years, nor is Pierre Gasly's. Sebastian Vettel's career isn't just defined by his time in Ferrari or Red Bull or Aston Martin. Nor is Carlos Sainz's career going to be defined by his time in one team.

However, when it comes to Daniel Ricciardo, the revisionism and hate is strong. Especially in fan spaces like Twitter.

The two years at McLaren are by many considered to be a definer of Daniel's career, completely ignoring or disregarding what he was able to do in Red Bull and Renault.

In one instance he's a PR merchant, in another he can't draw a crowd.

He gets the car to Q3, qualifies 4th, and spends the whole weekend in 10th -> well then people will say it's the car.

Both he and his teammate don't make it out of Q1 with about .006 separating them -> well then obviously the driver and not the car on that specific track

Castles Crumbling is a song that inherently fits the change in the narrative around Daniel. The premise of Castles Crumbling is your legacy falling apart and no longer being loved by people who were once fans. This is a defining feature of Daniel Ricciardo's public perception in recent years as everything he does is defined by the McLaren stint.

Once, I had an empire in a golden age

I was held up so high, I used to be great

They used to cheer when they saw my face

Now, I fear I have fallen from grace

Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty

Crowds would hang on my words, and they trusted me

Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far

I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart

Despite what people perpetuate now, coming into McLaren, Daniel was highly regarded and considered a great driver. He was THAT guy.

Netflix's Drive to Survive did a lot in helping Daniel transcend from the normal bounds of an F1 driver. He was the first one to be fully on board and give them so much access to him, his thoughts, and his life. A move that wasn't reciprocated by other drivers, so in that first season, it was all about him from start to end basically. He also had the personality to match.

But even before that, Daniel has been the the guy. Just look at any number of grown men that have taken his sweaty race boots and drunk champagne out of them.

Gerard Butler (USA 2016)

Christian Horner (Malaysia 2016)

Max Verstappen (Malaysia 2016)

Nico Rosberg (Malaysia 2016)

Mark Webber (Germany 2016)

Lance Stroll (Baku 2017)

Sir Patrick Stewart (Canada 2017)

Martin Brundle (Austria 2017)

Adrian Newey (Monaco 2018)

Lewis Hamilton (Imola 2020)

Zak Brown (Monza 2021)

Lando Norris (Monza 2021)

Any number of Red Bull staff over the years

People all around the paddock

Some happily, some with pure disgust, others taking the shoes right off Daniel's feet for a shoey.

Daniel at Silverstone in 2017: "DC took my shoes off and then in Austria, Martin was frothing for it."

Daniel wasn't just his personality as so many would like to say. The racing was there.

In 2014, Daniel came into Red Bull and beat his four-time world champion teammate. He was Red Bull's only race winner that year with three wins. During his first year with Red Bull, Daniel finished third in the championship, just behind the two Mercedes.

Once more in 2016, Daniel finished third in the championship, just behind the two Mercedes. His only win of the year was Malaysia 2016 and with it came the iconic podium of Daniel, Max, Nico, and Christian all taking turns to drink out of the same race shoe.

Nico Rosberg in 2023, talked about his time racing against Daniel in 2016 and said:

"He's such an awesome personality, one of the best wheel-to-wheel racers out there. If I saw in my rear-view mirrors, [Ricciardo] was one of the last guys I would like to see there at the time, with Max Verstappen."

2018 for Daniel was filled with reliability issues and engine problems. Out of the 21 races that year, Daniel retired in 8 of them. He had two wins that year - China and Monaco.

Going into Renault, Formula 1 World Champion and Renault Advisor, Alain Prost, called Daniel worth every penny that the Renault would be paying him

"Daniel is more expensive than other drivers. When you need that to help the team we did it. Money is not a problem but it has to be justified. We have two top drivers, maybe one of the best lineups in F1 today."

With Renault, people forget that 2020 was one of his best years. While he didn't win any races, Daniel did have two podiums. He gave Renault their first podium in about nine years. Additionally, Daniel finished 5th in the championship, higher than anyone would have expected out of the unreliable Renault. He was doing wonders with that car.

Going into McLaren, Daniel was a highly valued asset. And while many like to say he went to McLaren for the money, salary estimates show that going to McLaren was actually a significant pay cut.

With an approximately $22 million pay cut in cash earnings, the move to McLaren cannot be defined as a cash grab. Doing something for the money doesn't usually mean lowering your value by millions.

My foes and friends watch my reign end

I don't know how it could've ended this way

Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor

People look at me like I'm a monster

Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name

Now they're screaming that they hate me

Never wanted you to hate me

So how did we get from being a highly valued driver to endless public hate by fans?

Well revisionism and recency bias.

Daniel’s time with McLaren was admittedly very bad.

(sidenote: Dropping Daniel was the best thing that McLaren could have done for all parties involved. No one can deny that, but how McLaren and Zak Brown conducted themselves was wrong. Say what you will about Red Bull's ruthlessness; Red Bull is upfront about it, and they don't drag the driver around making apologies or videos promising to try harder and signing another driver while doing all that.)

The car and driver did not mesh. But what most people tend to ignore is that the car design was inherently difficult to drive. It was unpredictable. One could argue that Lando was performing well in the car., but Lando has only driven a McLaren. Whereas Daniel's driven an HRT, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, and a Renault. Instead of helping Daniel with the learning curve or setting the car up in a manner that aligned with his driving style, Daniel had to change how he drove.

With all the McLaren struggles, people have chosen to focus on just that phase. Completely ignoring that Daniel was doing wonders with the Red Bull when the car wasn't great and he was doing wonders with the Renault.

Daniel's time post-Red Bull was not all bad and certainly not deserving of the vitriol and hate he receives when there are other drivers who have much less to show for on the grid.

He got two podiums with Renault in 2020 -- the first podiums that Renault had gotten in years. He was 5th in the standings.

And let's not forget that Daniel got McLaren its only win since 2012. Maybe you can say that the only reason Daniel won is due to the Max and Lewis crash or that Lando was told to stay behind. However, Daniel overtook Max at the start while Lando lost a position to Lewis. Daniel had been the one to take his shot when it mattered. As for the team orders to hold position, well Daniel could have gone faster if he wanted to as we can see with him pulling out the fastest lap on the final lap.

(A random thought that came to me during the research for this: do we think Christian Horner wants a Daniel-related tattoo as well and hates that Cyril and Zak have Daniel-related tattoos? Because if I was in Christian's position, I would want that tattoo. Like you put all this time and investment into a driver and then two other team principals that either took him away from you or couldn't get the most out of him have tattoos chosen by Daniel.)

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 ao3

Steve doesn’t exactly dispute Eddie’s words, but he does manage to smile and laugh again (“Oh, God, huh?”), a little dance out of sincerity that Eddie lets him get away with—because it’s late, and for a moment, Steve had pressed his forehead against Eddie’s before drawing back, and it felt something close to a thank you.

Steve leads the conversation into how hilarious Dustin had been, how he took the bait every single time Robin had tried to rile him up. Eddie follows easily, quips back with meandering movie commentary so that it doesn’t really matter if either of them loses the thread of it, doesn’t matter if their conversation dissolves into softly spoken, unfinished sentences and the occasional yawn…

He doesn’t know which one of them falls asleep first.

Just knows that at some point, he seems to wake at random.

The room is still dark, but they’d left a lamp on at the side of the couch, so Eddie blinks through the temptation to just shut his eyes again. Looks over to see Steve’s face twitching in sleep, mouthing something soundlessly.

His eyebrows are knitted in quiet distress: not a full blown nightmare, not yet, but it could turn into one.

“Not…” Steve says, and even as the weight of dreaming dulls his voice, Eddie can hear the determination in it.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve’s eyes are moving underneath his eyelids. “Not… Max. Not Max.”

It sounds like a promise. A litany.

“Hey,” Eddie repeats. He shuffles a little closer. Hopes that even in an awful memory, Steve can sense that he’s not alone. “Steve.”

Steve’s hand moves, and then he’s pinching the skin just before his thumb. Eddie knows that technique, has used it himself while getting tattoos done—pinching there to try and stop himself from feeling pain coming from anywhere else.

“Not…” Steve’s breathing catches. “You won’t… touch them.”

“You’re not there anymore,” Eddie says quickly. He strokes a finger along Steve’s knuckles, reassured when Steve’s hand starts to go lax—it doesn’t look like he’ll need to wake him up.

“it’s over, Steve, it’s all over. You’re safe, so’s Max. Everyone’s fine, okay?”

He has to say it a few times, but eventually Steve begins to settle.

His hair is falling into his eyes again. Eddie lightly moves the strands away without a thought—keeps his thumb there, smoothing across Steve’s brow until the frown lines gradually disappear.

And then Steve stirs at the touch. Sighs in his sleep. “Eddie.”

Eddie holds his breath. But Steve doesn’t wake up, just turns his cheek further into a cushion. His breathing is calm and deep.

God, you’re beautiful, Eddie thinks. The thought seems to rise from somewhere in his chest. He holds it close, aches with it.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

-

“You’ve got a call,” Steve says around a mouthful of cereal, when Eddie heads back downstairs after a shower.

“Ooh, I’ve got a call,” he says smirking, “you sound like a secretary.”

And that’s how he finds out that Steve had just left the phone dangling so that whoever’s on the other end can listen in on everything. Because when he picks it up with a, “Hello?”, he hears—

“Turn my back for one minute, and you’ve got a secretary,” Wayne says, amused. “Ain’t you going up in the world?”

“S’the company I’m keeping, Wayne.”

He catches Steve’s eye as he says it, laughs when Steve mouths, Don’t make me sound like a dick.

“That so?”

And while the smile in Wayne’s voice is still there, Eddie can also hear him trailing off in thought.

“Wayne?”

“We’ve got a new place.”

-

They’ve been given a condo—not too out of the way from Forest Hills so the surrounding area still feels reassuringly familiar. The size of the rooms doesn’t differ all that much, either: larger than the trailer’s rooms had been, sure, but not so big that it’s daunting, none of that eerie, echoey feel.

The layout of the kitchen and living room is different enough—the walls white, the fridge slightly to the left—so Eddie dares to think he might not keep seeing Chrissy out of the corner of his eye.

And his new bedroom has that freshly aired smell of a space that’s recently been painted; the blankness of it means that the memory of Steve sitting right on the carpet, eyes rolling back, is no longer quite as close.

But it also means…

“It doesn’t feel ours yet,” he says, turning back to look at Wayne leaning in the doorway.

Wayne hums thoughtfully, a sound that’s more an acknowledgement rather than a point blank agreement. He knocks on the doorframe, runs his hand down the wood.

“We’ll make it work.”

Wayne’s brought the electric guitar over, and seeing it propped against the wall helps reduce the blankness of the place a little—it’s then that Eddie realises he’d left the acoustic over at Steve’s, unplayed since the hospital.

But there are a couple of things he has remembered.

Wayne chuckles when Eddie brings out Robin’s mugs.

“What in God’s name are those?”

“Housewarming gift, Wayne, don’t be rude.”

Wayne nods at the neon polkadots. “Think I’ll need sunglasses to use that one.”

But his eyes soften when Eddie explains where the mugs came from, and he picks up the homemade ones, makes their first coffee in them.

Eddie smiles at Wayne clinking their mugs together. As toasts go, it’s more of an unusual one.

They don’t say anything; they don’t need to.

-

They go on a grocery store run, and the woman on the register only does a double take without uttering a word, which Eddie counts as a success.

After lunch, they watch T.V, old reruns of quiz shows where whenever Wayne cuts in with the right answer, Eddie accuses him of cheating: “You’ve seen this one before.”

It feels weird, to not have to intermittently hit the top of the T.V so the picture stays clear. Feels weird to be able to do this at all, almost like they’ve picked up from how Spring Break should’ve rightfully begun.

Almost.

Wayne gives Eddie a pointed look before he leaves for work, says that he can drop him off ‘somewhere.’ The offer would be easy to take, but Eddie shakes his head, insists that he’s fine. He’s honestly not completely sure why he does. Maybe he’s trying to prove something to himself. He lasts just over an hour after Wayne leaves, and then the silence starts to get to him. There’s a wall mounted phone in the kitchen. He picks it up and dials before his brain can play any sort of flashback on repeat.

“Just thought I’d check the line’s working,” he says, and Steve’s answering laugh seems to banish some of the shadows he’s watching creep up the wall.

“Yeah. Well, it works,” Steve says. “Hey, it’s, um… it’s quiet without you.”

It’s not true; Eddie can hear a definite ruckus going on in the background, what sounds like Dustin and Erica ragging on each other. But he thinks he already knows that’s not what Steve means.

That what he’s really saying is Come back.

-

“New place is good,” Eddie says evasively, as Robin takes competing takeout orders from Dustin and Erica. “And I, uh.” He gestures at the acoustic guitar in his arms. “Realised I forgot this, so.”

Steve smiles. When he speaks, his voice is low, like this is just for them. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

A shrug. “You know. Come up with, like… an excuse or something. ‘Cause I…” He looks right into Eddie’s eyes, honesty shining through. “I like having you here.”

Eddie is saved from answering when he strums the guitar strings almost without thinking, winces at the sound.

“Sorry, baby. Been neglecting you.”

Erica snorts, comes to sit astride the top of the couch by Eddie’s shoulder. “Wow. Should we leave you two alone?” she says archly.

“Oh, gross,” Dustin says.

“Hey, pipe down,” Steve says. “Maybe I woke up ‘cause Eddie was so…” He tilts his head questioningly. “Flat?”

Mid-tuning, Eddie fights a smile. “I was sharp, but sure, I’ll take it. Whatever got us there, y’know?”

For a moment, Steve looks touched. “Yup. First thought I had was man, I’ve gotta tell him how incredibly bad he is at that.” But his tone is just on the cusp of being too soft to really pull off the insult.

“If out of tune stuff worked,” Erica says, “we would’ve just had Dustin sing at you.”

Robin’s hiccuping laughter drowns out Dustin’s protests. And then Eddie hears both Steve and Erica launch into…

“Okay, seriously.” Eddie grins. “What is it with that song?”

Dustin glowers. “If any of you say shit, you’re dead to me.”

Robin ruffles his hair. “Ooh, I’m scared.”

“Okay, relax, Henderson,” Steve says. “Talent or, uh, lack of aside, I don’t think singing your own favourite song would’ve—”

“NeverEnding Story is not my favourite song.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Dude. You don’t need to pretend to be cool, or—”

“It’s not!”

“It’s Take On Me,” Erica says.

Dustin points at her. “Thank you.”

Erica shrugs. “It’s probably mine, too.”

Eddie gives a final strum, satisfied with the results. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Steve echoes. He sounds genuinely curious.

Dustin’s expression so perfectly says You’re being stupid, you’re lucky I love you that Eddie has to cough a laugh into his sleeve.

“Steve. Hello? Last summer.”

“What?”

“When you tried to sing every high note. Tried.”

“Surprised all the neighbourhood dogs didn’t start chasing after your car,” Erica says.

“Oh.” Steve looks like he’s both moved and embarrassed at the same time.

Robin laughs. “Yeah, that’s right!” She looks at Eddie says, “It was, like, what, a few weeks? Yeah. A few weeks after Starcourt, um, was no more, and Steve, he just pulls up at my house, wearing sunglasses, and goes.” She mimes tilting said glasses down her nose. “He goes, ‘Hop in. We’re going on a wild ride.’ Which, like, turned it to be a ride to the nearest ice-cream parlour out of town with these two schmucks, so—”

“Hey, it was.” Steve clicks his fingers. “What’s it called? Exposure therapy.”

“Yeah, because it was the ice-cream that was traumatic,” Erica says.

“The hot fudge at that place was lukewarm,” Dustin points out. “That was pretty traumatic.”

Eddie plucks out a few notes to Take On Me, and Steve laughs, shakes his head.

“Nope, not singing.”

“Leaving the dogs in peace, Harrington?” Eddie asks.

Erica giggles, and Dustin and Robin both boisterously start impersonating Steve singing anyway—and Eddie thinks about how something as simple as all of this says so much.

-

Robin, Dustin and Erica don’t stay that long—Erica’s parents want her back before eight, and that prompts Robin to offer her a ride home, which Dustin accepts too, as he’s also staying over with Lucas.

Technically, Eddie could’ve gone with them, got a ride back to the condo. Hell, he could’ve ordered a cab with just the prospect of sitting in uncomfortable silence for ten minutes.

He doesn’t.

Because while Robin was corralling the kids into their jackets, Steve had tapped Eddie on the wrist, just once. Murmured casually, “Hey, you’re staying, right?”, like he was expecting it.

Still.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Eddie finds himself saying when they’re alone. “It’s just—”

“Shut up,” Steve says, so obviously fond that Eddie is immediately set at ease. “I meant what I said. Besides, I can be—like, if I really didn’t want you here, you’d know about it, trust me.”

Eddie smirks. “Yeah, forgot that you could be a passive-aggressive bitch when you wanted to be.”

“God, I wish that had been my title at school.”

“Oh, it was—in my head, at least. You got plenty, actually, there was a mental list.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Well, since you’re asking…”

But Eddie drops the list barely halfway through. Clears his throat and says, “Hey. Thanks. It’s just… the new place, man, I’m fucking grateful to have it, don’t get me… It just.” He bites back a sigh. “Doesn’t feel like home right now.”

Steve nods. “You don’t need to… I get it, Eddie.”

And oh, Eddie thinks, you really do, don’t you?

[chronically-ghosted]

First Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5212

summary: you agree to his every precaution. he's not going to kill you, just bite you, a little bit. You hope a lot.

warnings/tags: making out, talking in bed while half-naked, max comes with his own warning, blood but only a lil, the discovery of a new vampire ability (this is so self indulgent), established friends with benefits situation but not a relationship, #pedrostories1k, @pedrostories

a/n: i've only got two parts written. lemme know if you'd like more!

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The instant he heard the term, Max was obsessed. He’d whisper it in your ear in the hallways. He’d growl it into your throat as he split you open on his mattress, fingers wrapped like iron around your wrists – those were times he had to be especially careful. He’d leave notes addressed to you at your desk, or in the apartment kitchen, with it written across the top. He’d even occasionally put “my” before it. Hell, it was your name in his phone’s contacts. 

Monsterfucker. 

Monster. Fucker.

Monsterfucker. 

His little monsterfucker. 

My monsterfucker.

Does my monsterfucker like that?

You’re being so good for me, little monsterfucker. 

I’m gonna come on your chest now, you monsterfucker. 

Was it an unhealthy nickname that he said far too often around the office and dangerously close to your coworkers? Yes. Did you regret showing him that tweet and explaining what it meant? Absolutely not. Because you were. His. And a monsterfucker. 

Unfortunately, outside the truly staggering stamina he displayed, an occasional nip at the kitchen counter after a particularly long bout of mind-blowing sex, and a flash of a toe-curlingly long tongue he gave you only after you’d begged for it for hours at a time . . . Max was often more an annoying, smug fucker than a monster to fuck. Which is to say, the fangs rarely made an appearance. Only recently had he started leaving bags of blood in your apartment’s refrigerator and even those were wrapped up in special bags that prevented freezer burn, as if to say, nothing special here. He still wouldn’t eat in front of you, always more eager to pick up dinner and watch you eat, as if the memory of human food alone would satiate him. 

He resolutely hadn’t let his fangs out anywhere near the bedroom. 

And that monsterfucker in you was finally starting to be annoyed by it. You’d done everything you could think of, short of drawing a bullseye around your jugular vein. For being a vampire with enhanced peripheral senses, he really couldn’t quite take a hint.

“Max?”

“Hmm.” 

“Can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Sure, baby, what is it?”

“I want you to bite me during sex.” 

His fingers pause in their path along the curve of your waist, over the knots in your spine. You face away from him, having just woken up, and you hope that by posing this question so early in the morning and so bluntly, it might unsettle him enough to at least consider it. His hand hovers just above your ribs, before sliding forward into the soft skin between your bones, and he chuckles.

“No.”

You scowl and sit up, glaring down at him over your shoulder. Shit, maybe asking him first thing in the morning was a bad idea. Hair perfectly tousled in a deadly combination of post-sex and sleepy morning bedhead, Max grins up at you, his right arm tucked up behind his head, giving you a full display of his solid biceps and carved chest. You’d never seen him once lift anything heavier than a stapler. Well, except for the one time he picked up your couch with one hand because your earring had rolled underneath it. 

And whoever said vampires don’t sleep was only partially correct. Max didn’t sleep, he went unconscious. Trying to wake him up before he was ready was like trying to crack open a boulder with a rubber hammer. 

You twist your mouth down to perhaps look more serious than you actually are to hide your recklessly ogling. But the instant he sees your naked torso and your tits he is the one staring shamelessly. 

“Why not? We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you hardly even let me see your fangs, much less feel them.” 

“I bit you last week on the couch when we watched that one movie.” 

“You bit me to scare me and didn’t even break the skin.” 

Max’s eyebrow jumped. Arching slightly, he settles deeper into the pillows, a small smirk dripping across his lips. His hand skims up your knee, over your thigh, his intention very clear. 

“And you want me to break your skin, baby?” He purrs.

“Max, stop. I’m serious.” 

“What were we talking about?”

“Max!” You toss his hand off your thigh and he chuckles again, far too pleased with himself. With a big sigh, he stretches, long arms spearing through the slats in your headboard, toes curling under the sheets, before dropping his hands over his stomach, shivering. He reminded you so much of a cat sometimes, it was sinful. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you blinked up at him and his eyes were yellow. 

The sheets are frightfully low on his slim hips.

“Baby, look, that kind of shit is dangerous. It’s not that I don’t want you to see that side of me – you’re welcome to look as much as you want –,” he lifts his hands as if to demonstrate his own personal work of art, “but it’s not a joke. It’s called bloodlust for a reason. I’ve worked hard to control it, it’s not always that simple.”

Softly, he drags his fingernails over your knee, more affectionate than sultry. 

“And despite my cool and aloof exterior, I would be pretty bummed if anything ever happened to you.” That easy, devil-may-care smile fades from his face and his wide palm flattens across your knee. When he looks up at you, his eyes are soft, concerned. You rarely get Max’s vulnerable side and when you do, it makes you immediately go gooey on the inside. “Especially if it was me who hurt you.”

You sigh and thread your fingers through his. “And that’s exactly my point, Max. I know you would never hurt me. This is about trust as much as it is about the . . . bloodlust, or whatever. I feel safe with you. Safe enough to try this.”

Together, the two of you had tried pretty much every other kink, toy, or play out there and to you, this was no different. Double penetration would take on a new meaning. You didn’t let yourself even consider triple. One thing at a time.

Max’s thumb rubs thoughtfully over the meat of your hand. “We’d have to work up to it, if we’re going to do this. Make sure I remain in control.”

Your heart picks up speed. “Yes, of course. Same rules as always.”

Max pouts. 

“But I’ve been wanting to change our safe word for a while now.” 

You bring your knotted hands up to your lips and gently kiss every one of his knuckles. “If we do this, you can pick our next safe word.” 

Quick as you can, you slip the nail of his thumb into your mouth and nip him just a bit. His eyes go dark.

“That’s cheating. You’re manipulating me.” 

“Just helping my case along. But what were you saying about working up to it?” You can tell he’s losing focus, that it’s only a matter of minutes before he pulls you into his lap, but this is when he’s most pliable. He had the manic attention span of a dog tempted with a squeaky toy. You kiss the back of his wrist. “Max, c’mon.”

“We’d have to start slow. I’m talking high school, baby leagues. Making out. Light petting, then maybe heavy petting.” 

You shift closer to him, breaking your hands apart as you put an arm over his chest to the other side of the mattress. Instinctively, his hand slides up your inner thigh. His gaze watches your breasts as they swing in movement. 

“Damnit Janet . . . but okay, then we’ll go through the bases.”

“Mhmm hmm . . .” 

You brush his hair back from his forehead and he puts both hands on your hips. You have seconds now. “So, we start with first, go up to second, which is under the clothes stuff. Then third. Oral. But that’s for both of us, right?”

His thumb traces your nipple. “Totally.”

“So that just leaves home plate, right, baby? That’s it then.”

You’ve got your hand around his cock and you stroke once. His mouth parts and his eyes flutter. “What’s it?”

You laugh out your nose.

“You’re impossible, Max Phillips.”

First Base.

“Is this entirely necessary?” 

“I’d prefer you in a snowsuit or nun’s habit, but this will have to do.” 

“At this point, I’ll take the Bugs Bunny onesie you wore for Halloween.” 

Max smirks, lighting the last candle in your bedroom. He shakes out the match until it smokes and he turns back to you. You’re pouting in the middle of the bed. 

“I’m gonna sweat my tits off in all of this.” 

As part of his rules, he made you put on thick woolen socks under your straight-legged jeans. In addition to a black bodysuit as the base, he told you to wear:

A long sleeved turtle neck

A sweatshirt

A jean jacket

And a scarf

His aim was to minimize any open and available skin except the bits you intended to use or for him to bite, but the scarf you refused. It was the middle of summer for god’s sake!

But in the end, he had agreed. He was going to bite you during sex so if you had to roll around naked in a giant bubble for two weeks to get to that, you were more than willing to forgo some comforts. In addition to all but wrapping you up in a burlap sack, Max also insisted on a few extra precautions. 

The first one being that a chain of silver is within reach, next to the bed. Max drained a bag of blood about thirty minutes ago so the hunger wasn’t all consuming. A box of Chips Ahoy cookies sat on your dresser for afterwards, along with a bottle of Gatorade, a brown bottle of disinfectant, a bag of cotton balls, and some bandaids. 

“Are we making out or am I donating blood?” you teased. 

But Max only shrugged. “A bit of both, actually.” 

He also laid out an enormous white towel on your bed. You’d offered to do this in his apartment, but he wanted you as comfortable as possible, to which you frowned.

“You weren’t anywhere near this nice to me when we did anal for the first time.”

He hadn’t even dignified that with a real response but just a swat on your ass. 

But, to your enormous surprise, Max Phillips was a romantic at heart. The candles were to set the mood. 

“Plus,” he says as he crawls onto the bed with you, “it’s very gothic, isn’t it?”

“What, porking by candlelight?” 

He rolls his eyes and swoops in to kiss you on the mouth. 

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow. 

“Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.” 

He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek.

“Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

“Would you make her wear five layers of clothing in the dead heat of summer?” 

“Nah, I’d just eat her outright.” Max snaps his teeth just under your jaw. He is only playing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He chuckles at your reaction. 

“It’s too easy, baby. Sometimes I think you only like me for my fangs.” 

You bite your lip in thought, as you lean forward, draping your arms over his shoulders. His hands cup your waist.

“Well, not only. The Jag’s a nice perk too.” 

You bend your head to kiss him again, but he draws back, his hand against your cheek, gently stopping you. His dark eyes are serious. In the candlelight, they look almost gold. Despite the almost stern expression, you see something else, but you so rarely see it on him, you aren’t sure you recognize it at all. Fear. Max is genuinely fearful he was going to hurt you. 

“What are the rules again?” 

“Use the silver if and only if you don’t stop when I use the safeword.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere as long as it touches your skin.” Your stomach knots. You know it would hurt him, burn him, and you can’t imagine doing that. But he wants you to have that kind of power over him.

“Keep going.” 

You huff, knowing exactly what he’s after, that verbal confirmation. That agreement on your end as much as his. 

“We’re only going to make out. No groping, licking, or grinding.” 

“That’s right, missy, and you better be home by nine.” 

You bend over and tug his ear lightly with your teeth. But that same sincere look is on his face when you settle back again. He taps your chin with his thumb, eyes watching your lips. 

“What else?”

“After you bite me, if I start to feel dizzy or lightheaded, I also say the safe word immediately. 

Max nods, his thumb moving to anxiously skim against your cheek. “I’ll be taking less than what you’d donate to any blood drive, but it might be faster than you’re used to, so I’m not sure how you’ll react.” 

His gaze searches your face as if you are about to crack and crumble under him. The mere suggestion that the boardroom-schmoozing, bad-boy-batman, bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips is this apprehensive over a little bite is almost mesmerizing to you. He’s never been one to handle you delicately and this is the first and only time you’ve seen him so ill-at-ease.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You scratch your nails into his hair just above his neck, a place that usually has him oozing into relaxation, but not this time. 

He frowns.

“No, I want to. I really, really want to. It’s just . . .” He swallows, further separating you from him and only letting his hands touch your knees. He seems to be on the verge of something and he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “It’s just . . . it can be harder to control it, for a vampire, when they have a connection with the person they’re feeding from.”

You huff. “Max, of course, we have a connection. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for months now and –,”

“An emotional connection.” If he could blush properly, he would. “A deep emotional connection.”

“Oh.” 

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? And he’s telling you now? 

Sometimes it’s rather shocking. That an immortal creature of the night can have the emotional intelligence of a six year old. 

With a gentle sigh, you inch towards him and hitch your leg across his thighs. His eyes widen momentarily before you sit down on his lap. You card your fingers through his hair. His hands hover just over your hips. 

“Do you trust me?” 

He nods without hesitation.

“Well, I trust you too. Quite literally with my life. This is just the first step, Max. But it can be the only step if it’s too much. I won’t bring it up ever again, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

It’s like your words are a balm to a sunburn. He nods again, closing his eyes. 

He goes up to your neck with his hand, but waits for you to initiate. Your heart threatening your throat with swelling emotion, you fold over him and gently, with care, press your lips to his. 

The hand at your neck pulls you in closer and you turn your head to deepen the kiss. 

It stays like that for a minute. Your hands just resting on his shoulders, his fingers cradling the back of your head, and the other hand sitting contently on your knee. The kisses are almost innocent in their sweetness, curious, as if you’ve really never touched each other before. They smack of puppy love and cotton candy and necking under the bleachers. They’re lettermen jackets and prom-posals. Carving names in trees and promising forever with cheap rings in the shape of hearts and hands. 

But sweet is not what you came here for. 

At the first nip of your teeth, his mouth parts instantly, and all but sucks your tongue against his. You take him in long, rich, wet swipes, tasting the heat gathered in the cup of his mouth, in the muscle of his tongue. You think you taste the faintest hint of copper and you do your best not to shiver under his palms. You remind yourself to not let your tongue go searching for sharper things.

Your hips hitch forward and down, off your knees and into his lap. You’re already warm and despite the layers, you know he can feel it. He groans, air rushing out his nose, the hand in your hair tightens down, and his arm curls up against your lower back to pull you even closer. Your fingers knot into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp just the way you know he likes, your heart already pounding, your thighs clutching his waist. He claws at your back, pressing you harder against him, but beneath the layers, you can barely feel his touch. You whine at the growing heat between your legs and the lack of sensation. You have to feel him. 

With a tug, you jerk off the denim jacket, sweat already sprouting against the valley of your spine. He whines, this time a sound of protest. 

“Baby, don’t–,” he pants, your mouth inches from his. He claws at you and the jacket, needing you nearer and distant all at the same time. “It’s for your own good–,” 

“Just one layer. Please, I’m burning up,” you beg. He relents, letting out a breathless frustrated noise. You hurl the jacket off your arm and onto the floor.

He lifts you both then, hands digging into the back of your thighs, your hands going to his collar to keep the seam of your chests pressed together, and he turns to bury you in the mattress. Despite the countless times you’ve been in this exact position, it somehow manages to feel like the first time you made out with him. That same frantic heat, that buzzing energy, that need to touch and explore but not wasting a second to linger. A pulsing warmth swells between your legs and your hips jerk up a fraction of an inch, but they keep from making contact with the seam of his jeans. He’d never do this again if you broke his rules. 

Showing him where you want him to go, you nip his earlobe as he pries your thighs apart with his hands around the back of your knees, out of habit more than anything. You suck down on the back of his jaw, the smell of his hair and aftershave scratching against the rough of your insides to burn you a little bit hotter. Your teeth worry his skin just to the right of the knot in his throat and he jerks, moaning. He shifts his weight down, his pelvis tilting into the cradle of your hips and you eagerly receive him. You’ll go as far as he’ll willingly allow, but you want him to know this isn’t all on him.

“Color?” You tear your mouth away from his, hands nestled around the backs of his ears, you push back to look him in the eye. 

He answers you a second before he lunges in to kiss you again. “Green.” 

“You wanna keep going?” Don’t grind, don’t grind, don’t grind. 

He nods, eyes closing for a second. “‘m okay, I’m okay. Put your hands up my shirt.”

You blink up at him, chest still heaving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” So you do. You rub your palms up under the lip of his shirt, smoothing them against his sides, his chest, his stomach, which tenses as if your hands are cold. With a gasp, he drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot, almost burning. You wonder if his fangs are out. He shifts, pressing up against your chest, deeper into your neck, rocking his hips once, and he sucks on that soft place beneath your earlobe, making you keen.

“Can I see them?” You blurt out. “B-before–,” your voice catches and you swallow the desire in your throat. “Before you bite me.” 

Max’s shoulders still. You’re both breathing heavily and you stare up at your ceiling, afraid to meet his horrified face. Maybe you’d gone too far. Asking to be bitten was one thing, but maybe he didn’t want you to actually watch when he –

“Really?”

He peels back from you, his elbows locked out on either side of your head. He meets your gaze with trepidation and . . . awe.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, please. I even want to–,”

He’s staring at your mouth like if he thinks hard enough, exactly what he wants to hear will come out. 

“You wanna what?” His voice is deeper than gravel, lower than the graves of the earth.

“I want to touch them, Max.” You’ve never felt more exposed beneath him as he stares down at you. His hair is mussed, as if as shocked as he is. 

You think his jaw drops in surprise, but in the glint of the candlelight, you see them shine. White, glistening fangs. Slowly, he parts his mouth even more, jaw opening, and his upper lip raises a quarter of a fraction of an inch. 

In the far back of your mind, in your undeveloped lizard brain, the thing that squeezes out primal, dripping fear when confronted with things unknown, it’s pumping adrenaline. It’s working overtime. It’s going to catch fire. It’s screaming, begging, sobbing at you to run. To run fast and as far as you can because this? This thing that has you pinned beneath him – is a predator. It’s an apex monster at the top of the food chain, a precise killing machine designed specifically to prey upon your weaknesses. You can feel your muscles tighten, adrenaline roaring in your veins, you actually see his face better in the dark light as your pupils dilate, every fight-or-flight instinct you’ve ever possessed knotting together in a snarling, hissing, petrified void, all saying one thing:

Run, you idiot, run. Run. Run! 

But you don’t. You can’t. 

When you first discovered that Max was a vampire you asked him if he’d ever hypnotized you and he said no. And then you made him swear on point of stake that he would never, ever do that to you. 

You wondered vaguely if now he had broken his promise. Because you cannot look away. 

You exhale shakily, blinking up to his glistening wet mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach for his cheek, sliding it along his jaw, over the top of his upper lip, and then down. Down a single white fang, an obscene mockery of your own canine teeth. You’re surprised to find it smooth, just as hard as any of your own teeth, but you continue your thumb down to the very point of it. 

“Careful–,” he warns, the sound garbled, and a second too late. 

You prick your thumb on the razor edge of his fang. He shudders, head dropping between his shoulders. 

Wide-eyed and mortified, you immediately suck your thumb into your mouth at the first well of blood. 

“Max, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I–”

“No,” he says gently, but his voice is hoarse. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He lifts his head, eyes unreadable, but the candlelight brings color back to them, as if they had been consumed by shadow. “It’s okay.” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, easing your thumb out of your mouth. Watching you for any hint of rejection or fear, Max guides your thumb, wet with your spit and a dribble of blood, between his lips, between his fangs, and smears his tongue across the wound. He tries to maintain eye contact, but he groans, eyes fluttering, his hips swinging down. The noise he makes sends static directly into the pit of your stomach like a hot flare. You can’t fight it; you clench down on nothing. 

Holy fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Max,” you whine softly. He hums around your thumb, tongue lapping at the tip, eyes still closed as though he was drunk and trying to get the room to stop spinning. Finally, he parts his lips and removes your finger from his mouth. You can feel his rock-solid erection pressing into your pelvis. 

He breathes, slowly, as though he was focusing on every molecule of air entering and leaving his lungs. Finally, Max lifts his eyes to you again and, again, you feel that white hot spark down between your legs. His fingers around your wrist loosen, thumb and forefinger catching around the cuff of your sleeve and slowly push it down. 

“Color?” He husks, his breath coasting over your exposed wrist.

“G-green,” you stutter out. You know it can’t be helping him but your heart is pounding, rushing, vibrating behind the thick wall of your sternum. That same adrenaline that told you to run before has now locked you flat on your back, a different kind of instinct taking over. Your thighs ache to drop open around him. Take me take me take me.

He lowers his head to your blue, pulsating vein and lets the skin rub against his smooth incisor. Your back arches just off the mattress as if he’s fucking you with his tongue. 

“Is it going to hurt?” 

He’s not looking at you now, every sense within him entirely anchored to your wrist. But he shakes his head steadily, as if staving off sleep.

“I won’t let it.” 

A prick. Nothing more. Nothing more hideous or crude than a shot in the arm. And yet you know it’s deeper, closer to bone, through flesh and sinewy muscle, into the deep thready vein. You know it’s deeper because a red ribbon of blood trickles down the flesh of your forearm. You watch it with fascination, your vision going a bit blurry as a sense of peace and ease rises up and greets you. You’re not lightheaded, but there is an ease, a delight, as if something had dulled your senses to the world. Your face breaks into a smile, even though you don’t feel your cheeks moving. 

His licks are gentle, curious, tongue a little cold against your flesh. With your other hand, you stroke his neck, then tangle with his hair. You scratch him like you would the family dog.

“Good boy, Max, you’re such a good boy.” 

And then the noise that’s been hovering at the edge of your awareness ratchets so loud you can’t ignore it any more. A buzzing, a humming, as though a thousand heartbeats were all racing in sync with one another. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what it is, but you don’t mind it – it’s soothing, sweet, peaceful. You ease your hand from his hair, back down his neck, to the knot of his spine and –

“Max, are you purring?” It’s undeniable. His entire chest is vibrating as if powered by a jet engine. 

He muffles a response into your wrist, tongue more forcefully pressing into your skin. 

“Oh my god, you are! Vampires purr?” You giggle. “If we do nothing else, figuring out you’re capable of purring has been entirely worth it.” 

Again a muffled grunt. Your heart beat skips for a moment – what if he doesn’t stop – and then another pinch and you hear the faint chunk of his fangs retracting. The humming from his chest softens, quiets smoothly, fading to silence, as he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You giggle louder, that pleasant, sweet feeling still cradling you like a cloud, as he sits up from the bed. 

“Okay, now I’m kind of offended you never purred when I sucked your dick. Or that time I put on that strap-on! Or –,”

“Quiet you,” he grumbles with a bit of a smirk as he kneels down beside the bed and using the white towel beneath you, he wipes your wrist clean. Then, with his head hung down, he swipes his thumb against his mouth again. 

“What are you–,”

The pad of his thumb bright red, he gently brushes his blood over the two pin-prick holes and, to your utter shock, the skin knits itself together. You watch, transfixed, as any evidence that he ever bit you slowly disappears. With the wounds sealed and gone, Max presses a kiss to your wrist. He stands up and goes to pour the disinfectant on your dresser into one of the cotton balls. You sit up and you emerge instantly from that cloud of serenity. You’re clear headed and awake, that adrenaline rush gone. You rub your wrist, the dried blood making the skin there tacky and sticky. 

“That was . . .” You swallow. You know you didn’t orgasm but you still feel that lingering pleasantness, that almost syrup-y haze. 

“How are you feeling?” Max asks over his shoulder, his frown serious. He sits back on the bed and gently takes your wrist from your fingers. His gaze keeps flickering from the dried blood to your face as he cleans your wrist and forearm. “Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? Do you want to eat something – or drink –,”

“Max.” His mouth snaps shut, his brown eyes open and pleading and concerned. Something dislodges from your chest and pricks your eyes. This is only the first step in getting to what you really want, but you feel infinitely closer to him, like you’ve peeled back a layer and found something as warm and as comforting as sunshine. “Max, honey, that was perfect.”

You all but fall into him, your hand tugging on his collar to bring him into your atmosphere, your orbit, and you kiss him with fervent urgency. He groans in relief, in surprise, his hand cradling your jaw. You pull back, actually a little dizzy, but you’re quite sure that has nothing to do with blood loss. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips and you nod before kissing him again. He smiles, his thumb petting your cheek as if to calm you. “Good. That’s really good, baby. You did so well.” 

You scoff. “I don’t think I’ve ever been less of a participant in something so sexual.”

His eyebrow arches. “You got off on that?”

“Fair question. I guess you have to ask . . . since I wasn’t the one literally purring with delight!”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “That’s actually the reason I didn’t want to do this. You’re never going to let this down.” 

You pout at him, tilting your head. “Aw, poor pussy.” 

He plucks a kiss from your cheek and snags the cookie box from your dresser. You realize how starving you are and you nearly tear open the box.

“So you’re really good, with everything?” 

You nod, waiting until another time to ask him about that rather orgasmic haze you found yourself in. 

He bites his lip as he watches you lick chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Then it’s off to second base we go.” 

Next | Series Masterlist

[anavatazes]

Hi. *shuffles feet* Been a while. Might still be a bit yet before I start posting regularly again. Long of the short? Had a bit of mental break and needed a break. Slowly easing my way back into things. Slowly.

Obligatory picture of Mara, taking the youngest to school. Her favorite thing, next to eating ❤️.

Anyway, heart is still in a stranglehold by Joel. Pedro as Joel is NOT helping, as he does 😏.

And what really prompted this, was one of my original heartbreakers from when I was a teen, in combination with one of my most favorite characters in comics are coming together again to expand on their time together in the Savage Land 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠.

Is it January yet 🤤🤤?

Uncanny X-Men 269, 274 & 275 were my favorites when they came out. Rogue was already my favorite character among Storm and Nightcrawler, but this story really captured her essence. She was depowered, just arrived out of Siege Perilous, no one else around, and is attacked by the Mauraders. She uses Gateway's ability to escape but ends up in the land of dinos, fighting Carol Danvers, and being saved by the missing Magneto?! Who Jim Lee really could draw 🤤🫠. It's a great story, and I recommend it.

And now, this January, they are revisiting that story to fill in some gaps. I do hope they don't do any retcons. There is enough hate from Rogue/Gambit shippers as it is, that if they even get a hint of Magneto anywhere near Rogue, they explode. It's like, dude, fucking chill. Gambit has been the end game all along. We all knew it from the moment the Cajun first laid eyes on her. They are married now. If ya'll don't stop, I'm gonna start hating a favorite couple of mine... and it's not the one you want.

Also, no retcons in this, because, well, Magneto is the king of retcons, and I am tired of it. The major being his children Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver. Sorry, not sorry, you cannot still draw Pietro like Max, and say Max did not birth that boy. Nope. Even acts like him, still. It's Max Eisenhardt, Jr. So, no retcons. Don't cheapen the Legacy romance nor ruin things in the ROMY world.

Seeing more of Magneto helping Rogue figure out what is wrong with her powers, please! The man is a fucking genius. Self-taught in so much, too! Let the man show off! Part of what makes him so hot 🔥.

I want to see Colossus' son. Other than a blip here and there, we saw him last in the 80s, I think? Even if it's in passing with the tribes Ka-zar and Shanna are helping, just something!!!! The X-Men know he’s there. WTF happened to him?! This would be perfect for it.

Zaladane. More backstory, please. We were never given 100% yea or nea if she is, in fact, another of Magneto's children or what her exact connection to Polaris is. Not sure what I want, other than closure. This is as close to a return for the character as we're gonna get, and I will enjoy every minute.

I read a good chunk of Tim Seeley's run on Nightwing, and he's good. There is hope that this just won't be a wet dream of a scantily clad chick with two half nekkid guys and dinosaurs! Dick Grayson is a pretty complex character, as are Rogue and Magneto, so I feel they are in good hands.

As a few who are reading this know, I've been looking for pre-order information. I still haven't found any. But I did find an exact release date for issue #1 -

January 15, 2025. It's already on my calendar. I will probably blow my husband's mind and buy both digital and physical on this straight away. I always get digital on the Kindle and use the points I earn to buy more digital, which saves me tons of $$$$. Then, I will buy the TPB or individual issues of the books I want. It's rare I go straight in. But I want more Rogue stories, and this is how you get more Rogue stories.

Hope all that was understandable. Thanks to a stupid change in insurance, I am without one of my meds, and I am feeling it. Lack of sleep, high anxiety levels, and a breakthrough migraine that won't stop. I may not have been all that coherent 😄. Anyway, love you bitches. I am making my way back. Slowly.

[bellysoupset]

Hi Soup! Hoping you can spill your secrets about how you write your characters fighting with each other and making it both realistic and still loving? I'm always so scared about writing arguments even though I know they are a natural and healthy part of a relationship. For some reason I hate admitting my characters have flaws, but I know it makes them less interesting to always be so nice to each other. You have such a knack for balancing their personalities and the reasons they get upset with each other and then their apologies later.

Hi Lis!! Its so nice answering your asks off anon 😝

Alright so I've been thinking on how to better answer this, since I was literally writing a conflict when you sent it.

I think my tips to writing arguments/conflict are these:

Start small: anything can be a source of conflict, if you're inflexible enough. You don't need to give your characters these huge flaws, you can literally write fights out of one character thinking taking the main avenue is the best way to avoid traffic, while the other think they should do a shortcut and then when they get stuck they're both frustrated. None of these things make them evil or bad, it just gives them different perspectives and that's more than enough to start a conflict.

Everyone has flaws and everyone has bad behavior. Even your most precious OC. Being very harsh: Luke is too much, Jonah is selfish, Wendy is vain, Bella is proud, Leo is possessive, Vince is spineless, Max is judgmental. These don't make them terrible people, in fact, most of these traits have their own happy flip side.

Luke is too much, so he loves with his whole heart and with absolute no sense of consequence. Luke is the type of guy who brings everyone together and that people want to impress and be liked by, but this also the type of person who's highly susceptible to criticism (in his case, his father's), who takes reckless decisions, who is scared of being alone and who clings to people too tightly.

I often think a character's flaw and biggest quality can be quite similar. Vince avoids conflicts and that's what makes him this huge, likable teddy bear, but also why he's the type of person who omits information (cough, the whole deal with moving to Doveport), who'll avoid making up his mind for as long as possible and hurt those around him because of it.

So I do recommend looking into your OCs and thinking what makes them tick. Is Rory stubborn? Proud? He did go fishing into the deep sea and didn't want to own up to it to his friends, what does that say to you about him? Which situations would cause his worst side to jump out? And how would those around him react to that?

It's okay if not all characters are understanding to your character's flaws.

Jonah gets tired of Luke's intense personality easily. He's too secure in himself to want to be liked by Luke, like most people tend to, and he's too sullen of a person to tolerate his high energy. This doesn't mean he hates Luke, but it does mean that if Lucas' starts to lean into the worst of his personality, the first to lash out at him will always be Jonah.

Noa and Rory have been together for years, but how long did it take for them to get used to each other? Did they learn to avoid fights or did they compromise in certain aspects and keep fighting in others?

Another thing to keep in mind is to keep your fights clean. Unless you want to have a huge argument that will take you time to navigate and have your OCs changing their behaviors and personality, avoid fighting below the belt. If Nora brought up Rory's dead sibling in a fight, this would be below the belt. It's the type of hit you can't come back from, that requires not only an apology, but a change in behavior.

When Leo tells Jonah to not use his mental health against him, it's the type of fight that's drawing an invisible line and one that if I had Jonah repeatedly crossing, I'd be making his character toxic. That would be totally OKAY, by the way, if I meant to do that! Writing toxic characters is fun! But its not the story I'm telling, so I don't have Jon doing that, I have his character changing.

Uhhhh this is already so so long, so I'll quit the rambling. But I just wanted to say, don't be scared to make certain parts of your characters ugly and annoying and gross, we all are these things, and having someone who loves us despite our flaws and maybe even because of our flaws is much deeper than pretending to be perfect.

[genesisvirus]

What's the twiddlefinger mod?

oh man. time to look like a nerd (i'm also clueless af this is just what hyperfixating on this mod for two days does to you)

twiddlefinger is a fnf mod. i'm sure we all know what fnf is atp.. we're gonna ignore that tho. i'd probably recommend looking at this video first (link leads to youtube video), mostly cuz i think jumping into it without knowing wtf is going on adds to the humor of it all. i'm gonna explain more about the mod events surrounding it that i could uncover cuz tbh the absurdity of some of this stuff just NEEDS to be mentioned. so you can watch the video before or after the ramble tbh

okay so if you're like me you went wtf is this mod and why does the song kinda slap tho.. so here's the basics that i've found while trying to find info, as someone that lives under a rock

-the characters and everything are based on a youtube channel called max design pro, which is known for using the uhm.. gegagedigedagedago chicken nugget meme??? in their videos.. basically a content farm channel generating likes by making kids think their lives can help the characters in the videos. that's where the help = like mechanic in the mod came from

-the main character, max, is a monkey. i'm apparently one of few people that could tell immediately? i think i'm insane

-okay so this one's a doozy. this is part of a trend in fnf mods going on now where people make one-off mods based on typically children horror content with lyrical parts in the middle of the songs, and where the devs are hidden in anonymity. this was apparently started by endless aethos, a fnf mod based on.. supermariologan? analog horror shit?? trust me i'm WAY more clueless about that one. apparently the main dev used a one-off account but the mod got cancelled once people found out they were a controversial dev, so it's kinda becoming a joke now.

-the lore is there is no lore. i can't find it. the devs said they're gonna make a qna but from what i can tell it's not made yet, all i know is the mod is a love story, max was corrupted with SOMETHING.. cuz in the good ending he does revert back to normal once you save him. idk tho. also in the bad ending he accidentally kills nugget. oops..

-the animation in the lyrical part used to be a FAN ANIMATION?? i just gotta show that off cuz i'm like. obsessed with the art. the animation is so good and apparently the devs thought so too cuz they brought the dude in to make the animation in here..

-now for the crazy part. max design pro saw the mod. they first made minor references in a couple of animations but now more elements are showing up. max from this mod shows up in the animations now. the good ending of this mod is legit CANON to the channel it was based on now. they straight up made a fnf mod canon to their content farm channel i am not joking

-and before you ask "wait do they know the mod is lowkey shipping their characters-" they absolutely do. they referenced the ship art in their video. they fucking KNOW GUYS. i don't think y'all know how insane it is for a content farm channel to not only be aware of the content their fans are making but MAKE IT CANON IN THEIR VIDEOS.. LIKE WTF IS GOING ON

and that was my essay on a satirical fnf mod about a monkey wanting to eat a chicken nugget hope to see y'all guys once i draw gay angst again