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appocalipse · 10 months ago

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MAKE IT EASY (part 2) : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2・❥・3k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

Steve has a problem.

No, scratch that. He created a problem for himself, actually, about a week ago. A big, confusing problem that he now has no idea how to solve, so naturally what he's doing is plan B, which is the next best thing: avoiding the problem until it somehow resolves itself.

You are Steve Harrington's problem.

You, with your disarming smile, your gratuitous kindness and your impossible-to-forget laugh. You had made his parents like you, for God's sake. If that's not proof enough that you have some kind of magic working behind your smile, Steve doesn't know what is.

Oh! And of course, there is that damn dress.

Steve lowers his head until his forehead rests on the counter and sighs. Ah, that dress. Steve probably shouldn't think about it, let alone what was beneath it, the warm skin he touched for just a few seconds…no. He shouldn't think about it if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. But apparently, he likes to torture himself.

Steve stays in this awkward position for all of five dramatic seconds until his spine hurts. He straightens up again, with another sigh.

"You should talk to her."

It's Robin (of course) giving her opinion (that no one asked, Steve thinks bitterly) as she walks past him with a stack of tapes in her hands.

"I should never talk to her again. In fact," he argues, speaking a little louder so Robin can hear him from the back of the store, "if you're really my friend, you should make sure that I don't talk to her for the rest of my life."

"Coward."

"Maybe I am."

Even from this distance, Steve is under the impression that he hears Robin sighing.

She walks so fast that he doesn't even register the sound of her footsteps until Robin is in front of him, on the other side of Family Video's front counter, looking at him the way a mother would look at a child throwing a tantrum.

"You are going to talk to her," says Robin, with the certainty of someone who says the sky is blue.

"No."

She smiles. Steve is certain he recognizes that smile. It's the one that scares him, the same that precedes the moment when Dustin or one of the other kids says something like "just trust me, I have an idea", and the idea usually involves a robbery, a murder or interdimensional travel. Sometimes, all three of them.

"Robin-"

She has her backpack on her back.

"End of my shift," Robin hums, suspiciously happy. She takes a step back which, Steve thinks, is quite prudent considering what she says next, "…which means, my dear Steve, that you are obligated to serve our customers. Any customer. Even if you don't want to speak to this specific customer, you'll have to-"

Steve leans over the counter — to do what exactly, he's not sure; strangle her, perhaps — but Robin, as always, is faster. She laughs, and before he can do anything other than practically beg her to stay, Robin is out the front door yelling I'm sorry! over her shoulder, even though Steve knows she's not sorry at all.

Less than ten minutes later, the bell above the door rings again, and Steve wouldn't even have to look to know it's you.

You enter the store and your steps are quick, hurried, a clear goal in your mind.

You stop in front of Steve, almost exactly where Robin had stood a few minutes ago, but the look in your eyes is completely different for more reasons than one.

Steve swallows hard. You had been here two other times this week, and both times Steve managed to somehow force Robin to distract you, acting as if he was too busy to see you. You had clearly decided to talk to her behind his back, because all this had definitely been an elaborate plan between the two of you so that Steve couldn't get away.

You get to the point, crossing your arms. "You are avoiding me."

You're not asking; you're telling him. You know. You noticed.

Well, of course you did. You're smart. Smarter than him for sure.

Steve can only hope you haven't found out about the reason why he's avoiding you these past few days. That would be hard to explain.

He clears his throat. It's like he's trying to breathe with a couple of birds inside his ribcage.

"I'm not avoiding you," he says, but he looks away so quickly he doubts you believe him. "I've just got a lot going on lately…" he trails off, racking his brain for an excuse that would make sense without revealing too much.

It isn't fair — you're the last person he wants to hurt, and yet it took some elaborate plan between you and Robin to get him to stand in front of you again.

Pathetic.

You don't seem impressed. In fact, you laugh before he's even finished speaking, but it's not your usual light, happy laugh; It's a low, wry chuckle that makes Steve feel instantly irritated, even though he knows he probably doesn't even have that right after everything.

He knows he hurt you. He knows. He never wanted that. But you…you have no idea how torturous that night, that dinner had been for him. So yes; he does get a little angry.

"You've got nothing new going on lately!" you retort, growing angry yourself. "You just- I don't know. Have I…done something wrong? Did I make your parents mad that night or something? Because all of a sudden-"

"No!" he snaps, the word coming out harsher than he intended, and definitely louder. His cheeks flush with anger, and then embarrassment, and suddenly Steve desperately wants to crawl into a hole somewhere.

He clears his throat.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he repeats, softer this time. "It's just…it's complicated."

"It's complicated?" you ask, and now you're all but yelling too. Great. "That's your excuse for flat out ignoring me for the past week?"

"I'm not ignoring you!" he protests, his voice a bit higher than usual.

The truth is: he has been avoiding you. Every time he sees you, he feels this strange pull towards you - a mix of attraction and annoyance that he can't quite figure out. And every time he talks to you, he worries that maybe he'll say too much, or worse yet, say nothing at all and you, with your annoyingly sharp mind, will read him like a book.

As if that wasn't enough, Steve thinks, tormented, you decide to walk around the counter to literally stand in front of him, nothing else between the two of you besides a couple of steps.

This proximity feels like a trap. Steve takes another step back and his hipbone hits the counter. Dear God.

"Yes, you are!" you argue, crossing your arms and taking a step forward almost without realizing it. "You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night so that your parents would leave you alone, and I did. I thought it was okay. But then you pretty much ran out of my house afterwards and refused all my attempts to talk to you ever since."

You sigh. You lift your chin and look up at him, and, alarmed, Steve notices that your eyes are a little red, as if you're holding yourself back from crying.

He's making you cry?

Shit. The last thing he wants in the world is to make you cry.

"Tell me what I did wrong," you say, and the sudden softness of your voice catches Steve off-guard. "You owe me at least that, don't you? If seeing me is such a problem for you, just..tell me what I did wrong and I'll leave you alone. I'll go…clearly that's what you want."

"No, that's not what I want," he says quickly, stepping closer to you before his mind can catch up on his intentions. "Look, I'm sorry. I just…I don't know how to handle this."

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you probably notice the desperation in his tone, because you just stand there, looking at him. Waiting, he realizes. You don't move.

Then you ask, sounding so innocently confused that Steve almost feels like screaming:

"How to handle…what?"

It's not possible, he thinks. There's no way you didn't notice. You would have to be blind, deaf and…well, maybe not even then. Steve had thought things had gotten pretty clear the week before, at your place, when you had asked him to unzip your damn dress and he had gotten so carried away he almost kissed you and…

Well.

"You," he answers immediately, looking you square in the eye with all the genuine honesty he still has the capacity for. "I don't know how to handle the fact that I…" Steve swallows.

"That you..?" you encourage, taking a tentative step closer.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks, not moving an inch.

"Yes."

Steve's heart skips a beat, a beat that could very well be his last. "Look-"

"Tell me."

"I think you already know."

"I don't."

"Oh, come on," Steve says, his voice cracking as he lets out a humourless chuckle. "You can't tell me you didn't notice the way I looked at you last week. I mean, Jesus, I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend for dinner with my parents, and then I almost…"

He trails off.

And there it is; that funny feeling inside your chest, that warmth you can't even begin to explain.

"You almost what?"

He chuckles again. "Why do you think I left like that?"

"I honestly have no fucking idea, Steve."

"You asked me to unzip your dress."

"And?"

Steve looks at you like you'd just grown an extra limb.

"You can't be serious."

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry I asked you to do that, but I didn't mean to make you, uh…uncomfortable. You could have said no if-"

"That's not it." Steve cuts you off, frustrated because God help him, you don't get it. You still, somehow, don't get it. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

So what he does instead is turn around, placing his hands on the counter, his back turned to you so that he can think clearly for a moment without being distracted by the way you're looking at him.

But you…oh, you never let things go, do you?

"What is it then, Steve, huh?" you ask, shortening the distance between the two of you by half. You know the answer, or at least a part of you does. But the other part, the part that's stubborn and insecure and tired…wants to hear him say it. Needs to hear him say it. "What is it? Because it feels like you just want to hurt me. You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, but it didn't feel like we were…"

Pretending. Is that what you were going to say?

You stop speaking abruptly, eyes wide as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own. Judging by how angry you sounded, Steve thinks that's exactly what happened.

"Then you just…decided to ignore me."

For one moment, the only thing between you two is the silence.

"I didn't do that to hurt you," his voice is a whisper.

"Then what the fuck were you trying to do, Steve?"

"Get over you!"

"I...what?"

It feels like you're taunting him at this point.

"What, not what you expected?" He says, voice tight as he turns around to face you again, a bitter laugh trapped inside his throat. "C'mon, are you that oblivious?"

He's getting closer to you as he speaks now, voice growing more intense, more desperate; but you don't back away, he notices. You don't move, don't push him away. All you do is look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, waiting, searching for something in his expression.

"I-I fucked up, okay? I told you it was just play pretend but the truth is…I didn't have to pretend one bit," he confesses, eyes finding yours, and immediately that anger — or whatever it was — dissipates, his tone softening as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I should have known that having you for one night, even if it was just pretend, would just make it that much worse. That's why I tried to avoid you. To get over you…and clearly that didn't work."

There's so much you want to say that you feel like you're choking on your own words. "I don't- you, I mean-"

"No, it's alright, just…" He looks down at the ground, then steps back again with a small, empty chuckle. "Go ahead and reject me. Make it easy for me."

"I-what? Reject you?" If a demogorgon suddenly showed up and swallowed your left leg whole, you're pretty sure you would have been less taken aback.

"I know it's not what you want to hear. It's not how I wanted things to go either. But I'm trying to be honest here," he says, taking another step back, feeling more and more exposed with every stupid word that comes out of his mouth. "I care about you. And I know that if I don't get over this, it's going to ruin everything. So, please, just-"

"Oh my God, you are so stupid!"

Your tone of voice changed completely. Steve lifts his head to look at you, and to his complete and utter confusion, you're laughing.

Laughing.

For a terrible moment, the thought that you're laughing at him crosses his mind, but then…

You hug him. You hug him so tightly, in fact, that Steve is pushed back a step or two, and suddenly he's pressed up against the counter once again.

“You didn’t kiss me,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair and feeling the soft cotton of your shirt under his fingers. He can feel the warmth of your body against his. It's almost painful, how good it feels to be this close to you.

He wonders if he heard it wrong.

No — he certainly heard it wrong. He's hallucinating. Must be.

"Wait, I…what?"

You don't move an inch, but Steve feels as you take a deep breath against his shirt. He wishes he could see your face.

"That night," you explain, finally looking up at him. You look more flustered than he's ever seen you. Closing one of your hands into a fist, you hit Steve's chest without any real force. "I thought you were going to kiss me, but then you just ran off without saying anything. How was I supposed to guess that you actually liked me, Steve Harrington?"

He almost chuckles. Steve feels like his heart is in his throat, he can't believe what he's hearing. You like him? You, the girl he's been crushing on for what feels like forever, actually like him?

It's too much to process. He tries to form a response, but all that comes out is a strangled sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

So instead of trying to use any stupid words, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. He leans down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, and finally, finally, when you don't move away…he brushes his lips against yours.

It's just a soft, tentative touch, but it's enough to make him forget about everything else.

Steve pulls back then, waiting for you to pull away, to tell him no…but you don't. You close your eyes and lean into him, opening your mouth a little more against his, inviting him in. He takes the invitation, pressing his lips against yours again, more firmly this time, feeling your soft, warm tongue slide against his. He presses harder, deepening the kiss, feeling your hands curl into his shirt as he pulls you even closer.

You feel dizzy, light-headed, and utterly, perfectly lost in this moment.

Your hands cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there as you, too, attempt to pull him closer, as close as possible…and then, the bell above the front door rings, announcing that someone just entered the store.

Fuck.

Steve groans as you pull back immediately.

It's just a customer, an older man with a newspaper under his arm, looking around curiously. Steve knows it's not his fault, but he doesn't think he's ever hated anyone quite so strongly.

He looks down at you and it's a mistake; you look so beautiful with your cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, a soft, embarrassed smile on your mouth. Steve doesn't know what to say, he's not even sure he knows how to find his voice right now, so one of his hands finds its way up to cup your cheek again, fingers curling gently while the man walks around the store looking for God knows what.

Steve feels like he's on cloud nine. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in you again, and to hell with Family Video's customers. But you, on the other hand…

You grin. "You should probably-"

"Don't go anywhere," Steve tells you with a grin of his own. "I'll be right back."

Apparently, he wasn't aware that he wouldn't be able to get rid of you if he tried.

tags (i hope i haven't forgotten anyone, sorry!): @siriuslysmoking @sebastiansstanswhore @sorchateas @boomitsallie1 @vivzzi @mel119g @skrzydlak

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

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seonghwaddict · 11 months ago

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ateez and their top 3 kinks — masterlist

genre. hc, smut...? rating. mature. warnings. sexual content mdni, yn wears a dress in one part, kinks and stuff, marking, rough-ish, mentions of toys, somnophilia, size kinks, praise, degradation, bdsm themes, public/semi-public sex, breath play, it’s like a lot of kinks. wc. 1.1k.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] uh yeah i wrote this at 2 in the morning i have no fucking idea why i decided to do this but anyways- enjoy :3

hongjoong

marking. he’d mark you and fucking love to have you mark him… he’s literally so possessive and would never pass the opportunity to physically show people you’re his and he’s yours. hickeys literally everywhere and so many of them you’ll have a hard time covering them up—neck, chest, thighs, back, anywhere.

orgasm control. he’s a natural leader, what he says goes. so, of course, he’d want to be the one to control when you finish. which leads me to my next point.

overstimulation. he personally doesn’t like to be overstimulated but god does he love doing it to you. he loves the whines and twitches as he continue pressing a vibrator against your clit because, let’s be fr, he’d definitely be using plenty of toys (as well as himself).

seonghwa

shibari. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again and again and again. this man loves nothing more than to tie you up in the most intricate and borderline artistic ways for his own (and your) pleasure.

sensory deprivation. he absolutely loves the trust and vulnerability that comes with this. specifically, he likes to blindfold you and run his hands all over you as lightly as he can, barely brushing over all the spots he knows make you feel good, soft plushy lips ghosting over your skin. and no matter how light it is, you’ll always feel everything ten times more intensely, having nothing else to focus on but his voice and his touch. also, ice cubes.

praise. this is something he’ll incorporate into your everyday lives outside of bedroom a activities. he’ll make sure to tell you you’re doing well while your working on something. gentle head pats and approving nods.

yunho

size kink. this is so obvious but like literally look at him, he makes everyone seem so tiny compared to him. he likes to stare as he pushes his huge dick into you, jaw practically dropping as his huge hands pin your hips to the mattress. speaking of hands…

fingers in mouth…(?) i have no idea if this is an actual kink, but i just know this is so yunho. he’s the type of guy to have you suck your own release off him after he fingers you, getting off on the way your lips wrap around his digits. he would definitely have two fingers or his thumb stuffed in your mouth as he fucks you.

breath play. is it obvious i really like his hands? anyways, i will not be elaborating on this for the sake of my sanity.

yeosang

body worship. is this a seonghwaddict post without body worship being involved in some way? that’s right, no. he’s more into giving the body worship, but when he’s receiving it he becomes the ultimate softie (in my head, he’d be leaning towards being a hard dom tho)

edging. oh he would absolutely love your subtle frustrated huffs every time he stops whatever he’s doing, thinking you look so so cute when you’re desperate and practically begging. and then he’d finally let you finish, giving you the best orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

wax play. usually yeosang is a pretty calm guy outside of the bedroom and he likes to maintain that when it comes to foreplay, building up the anticipation. he specifically likes those candles that melt the wax into massage oil.

san

bondage. i think shibari would also be suitable for san, but he would do it with the usual ropes unlikes seonghwa. additionally, san is totally into marking. bondage/shibari would include exactly that—bruises and rope burns.

locations. ok so i didn’t exactly know what to call this, but he would not give a single shit about where and when he fucks you. backstage during an intermission? you’ll be dragged into a dressing room so he can give you some quick head before going back on stage, someone pounding on the door but he ignores them. at a dinner with some friends, you looking as ravishing as ever? he’ll either discreetly slip his hands up the skirt of your dress to finger you, drag you to a bathroom when no one’s looking, or drag you into the backseat of his car and rip that dress of you. this man has no patience and would rather not wait until you’re in the private confines of your home.

manhandling. he has all those muscles for a reason.

mingi

size kink. the twin towers have very obvious size kinks. like, how could they not? they’re fucking huge.

praise. giving and receiving. mingi likes being told how well he’s doing as much as he likes to be the one telling his partner. he needs the reassurance to make sure what he’s doing feels good for you, he’d hate to hurt you.

somnophilia. ok idk if this counts as it, but he thinks it’s so cute when he fucks you to sleep. his touches and his words and the way he fills you up so gentle soothing it’s like you’re being lulled to sleep. like he’s literally such a softie, okay? he knows his dick game’s good.

wooyoung

humiliation/degradation. giving and receiving. come on guys he basically admitted this already. he would be such a menace in bed, he would coo at you and mock you as he fucks you stupid.

biting. is this even a surprise? he loves to sink his teeth into you as a form of affection, listening to your whimpers and feeling you writhe beneath him as he… multitasks.

dry humping. he doesn’t care that it makes him seem like an inexperienced high schooler making out with his partner. he loves the friction he gets when he slowly grinds against you through your layers of clothing (and he knows you love it too). idk and like he would get desperate at some point, almost there but not quite there yet because it’s not quite enough, and yeah i just like the idea of that.

jongho

sir. he would love to be called sir. or daddy, but i think sir is just so jdjsjhcjsnc like i’m literally pacing in my room as i write this. JUST IMAGINE IT FOR A SECOND PLEASEEE- “please” “please what” “please, sir” “good. very good, darling” AHHHHHHHH

location. couldn’t care less about where he fucks you pt 2. kitchen counter, living room couch, dressing room in a clothing store, in the shower, bathroom stall, up against a wall, the list could literally go on forever.

eye contact. whether it’s forced or not, he thinks eye contact is one of the hottest things. he likes missionary for that exact reason—so he can look you in the eyes, look at you in your fucked out state, as he makes you feel things you know no one else can make you feel.

ot8 (aka things i wanted to give to all of them, with no explanation)

thigh riding.

i want them so bad.

　　[ networks ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist — open ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb

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enkvyu · 1 year ago

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8:12am — gojo satoru ;

your sneeze cuts off your sentence and you sigh, apologising into the phone. “sorry, i really don’t think i can carry out the mission.”

you can imagine yaga rubbing his temples on the other side of the line. “just worry about getting better. we can always have someone else fill your absence.”

“thanks, yaga. i’m really sorry for this.”

“don’t worry about it. take care.”

you end the call and sniffle, shoving your hand and phone deep into your pockets to try and conserve heat. the sniffle does little to clear your nose so you do it again, inhaling harder. by the end of it, your airways are no clearer than before.

a doorbell interrupts your suffering and you need to clamp your mouth shut to stop from groaning. dragging your feet behind you, you painfully walk over to your door. when you peer through the peephole, you’re met with a bright blue eyeball peeking through lifted black fabric.

“what the fuck.” you pull open the door. “gojo?”

your colleague stands on the other side, adorned in his typical work uniform with a white bag of something hanging off his arm. “you took so long to open the door i thought you might have died!”

“don’t sound too upset.” you roll your eyes.

gojo pauses and leans in, causing you to take a step back. his face falls into something you’ll call the equivalent to serious considering that you were talking about gojo, and he tilts his head to study you further. “is that a new makeup look? can’t say it flatters your features.”

you growl and it sounds sickly. “i’m not! i’m—” you shake your head as a migraine threatens your sanity. “doesn’t matter, what are you here for?”

“we work together! do i need a reason to come over and hang out?”

“at eight in the morning? yeah, you kind of do.”

“it almost sounds like you don’t want me here.”

“what gave it away?” you say, drily. of course, either gojo doesn’t get the nuance behind your words or he finds pleasure in testing you because he keeps bothering you with his presence.

“my feelings are hurt.” he sulks.

"i don't give a fuck about your feelings."

gojo's eyebrows shoot up. "wow, are you mad at me?"

you shake your head, sighing. “no, i'm not."

"right? after all, i haven't even done anything."

when he doesn't elaborate and the conversation dies, you ask, "was that everything?"

“why do you want me gone so fast? are you hiding something in there?”

you open your mouth to retort when a pulsing pain in your head cuts you off; the migraine was here. you groan, rubbing your temple as gojo’s voice zones in and out. “listen gojo, i am way too sick to banter with you right now. if it’s nothing important, can you talk to me another day?”

“you’re sick? how bad?”

you try to give him patience. “bad.”

gojo hums thoughtfully. “well it’s lucky for you that i’m super great at taking care of sick people.”

you stare at him. “you? really?”

“yeah! i’m incredible at it.”

you level with him a stare before slowly closing the door, intending to shut him out. his foot comes in a blur, holding it in place and you huff.

“you don’t believe me?” he says, looking the part of a wounded animal.

“if i say i do, will you leave me alone?”

gojo tuts, shaking his head. “this won’t do, we can’t have you believe in a false truth. i’m crazy good at taking care of people, i’ll prove it to you now!”

“no, that’s okay gojo, i don’t need your help— and you’re already inside. great.” the door closes behind you with a soft click as you stumble to your living room. “just stay out of the way, okay? and for god’s sake, keep quiet.”

"it'll be like i'm not even here. i promise."

"i don't believe in your promises." you grumble, stomping over to the bathroom. you notice, notice very clearly in fact, that the tall white-haired man follows after you. you stop at the entrance, looking back at him. "are you seriously following me to the bathroom?”

"i was going to stand guard outside!"

"i don't need you to. all i need is for you to leave." you hiss, entering the bathroom and slamming the door in his face. when you come out, he's still standing there, guarding.

you scrunch your nose up at him but leave anyway. he wasn't worth it, you remind yourself.

you make it to your next destination safely, thanks to your new and improved guard dog. checking out the fridge in your kitchen, you realise there was nothing to pop in the microwave and eat whilst wallowing in self-pity.

you do the next best thing and place a pot over your gas stove. bending over, you turn the small knob and watch as the blue flame arises. you let go of the knob, and the flame dies.

this was not something you needed right now but the emptiness of your stomach is all too prominent. so you try again, bending over and rotating the knob over the small fire symbol and watching as the stove flares up. carefully, you release the knob. the flame dies again.

“you okay?”

you grit your teeth into a smile. “yes, gojo. i think i might be better if you could stop looking over my shoulder.”

“the stove does not like you.” he ignores, side stepping to try himself. and because he’s so irritatingly perfect in every way, the blue flame rises and stays when he lets go.

gojo turns to you with a bright smile.

you sniffle and nod. “thank you.”

“what are you making?”

rummaging through your pantry, you remove a packet of instant noodles. the bright red icon on the packaging causes gojo to raise his eyebrow.

“super spicy?”

“i can’t feel anything in my nose right now. i’m thinking of flushing it out with something else.” you go to fill the pot with water but he stops you. “what?”

“you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating something like that.”

“do you have a better idea?” you ask. “this is all i have in the house right now.”

gojo grins. he lets the white bag he was still holding onto slip down from his arm to his hand and he opens the two handles with enthusiasm. because it was so contagious, you can’t help but feel excited, peering into the bag.

you blanch. “is that medicine, creamed corn and one single egg?”

“yes!”

“that isn’t a meal either, gojo.” you think again, flickering your gaze up to his eyes. “but that’s sweet, thank you. i’ll take the pills after.”

you start to move around but he stops you with his arm. “didn’t i say i was here to take care of you? i’ve got this, just go over and relax on the couch.”

“the last thing i’ll be doing is relaxing if you’re in the kitchen.” your migraine disagrees so you eventually nod, shuffling away. casting one last glance, you point at him. “don’t start a fire.”

he gives you a cheerful wave and you stumble to your couch. you fall into its cushions and exhale, deeply.

time passes in a blur as your illness takes a hold of you, digging its finger into your brain and shaking it, displacing your cerebral spinal fluid. with your face deep within a pillow, you almost miss the scent of smoke.

almost.

you spring yourself up on your arms and dart back into the kitchen, almost running into a wall. coughing, you fan away a puff of smoke as you enter, finding the culprit wishing a tune and stirring something in a pot.

"gojo?" you choke.

gojo spins around and you find that he'd somehow pulled out the "kiss the chef" pink apron shoko gifted you on your birthday which you had immediately hid. it fits him terribly, straining to cover his torso. "you're up! why are you up?"

you cough again, stepping closer. "can't you see past that blindfold? you're starting a fire! i'm surpised my smoke alarm hasn't gone off!"

you reach over and turn the exhaust fan on, something he hadn't even done, and squint through the fog to look at what he was making.

"what is that?"

"it's soup! i heard soup is good for you when you're sick."

you look between the lump of black coal in the pot and gojo's smiling face. "soup has water in it."

"i know, i added that! it just all disappeared." gojo stirs the pot, and you're no longer sure what exactly, he was stirring. "i even added the pills you wanted to take so it'll be easier."

you wordlessly reach down and turn off the gas stove.

he lets you. "thanks, i was just about to plate this."

gojo begins manoeuvring your kitchen with a familiarity you weren't sure how he obtained. he opens the overhead pantry and takes out a bowl, pulls out the utensils from its respective drawer, and uses your favourite spatula to transfer the black lump of something.

he places the bowl in front of you. "here you go."

you stare at it for so long, you start seeing black. eventually, you begin registering the item. "wait a minute, is this a cursed object? did you infuse your cursed energy into this?"

gojo has that stupid grin on his face, the one that he uses when he knows he's in the right. "it is! this should make you better in no time. i used to give this to megumi all the time when he was sick."

"but it looks so..."

gojo digs through his pockets, pulling something out and hiding it in his fist. he holds it out to you. "if you're good and eat it, i'll give you this."

"what is it?"

"it's a secret." gojo says. "c'mon, be a good girl and take your medicine."

you huff, pulling your gaze away from his hand and towards the black lump. it looks edible, maybe if you squint at it, and it didn't seem all too big. you could probably get it down in two big bites. so with the determination of a seasoned warrior, you square your shoulders and break off a chunk, throwing it into your mouth.

your face immediately scrunches up as the taste hits you.

gojo coos at you from the side. "you're almost done."

you glare at him through tears, gulping the substance down when you're able to, and stuff the remaining bit into your mouth.

when it's travelling down your oesophagus, you thrust the bowl back into gojo's hands. "you better give me that thing in your hand."

gojo places his fist in your hands and opens it. a single candy stares up at you. "it's strawberry flavour, your favourite."

you murmur curses at him under your breath, something about him treating you like a child, but take the candy anyway. when you pop it in your mouth, the sweetness is almost enough to make you forget the taste of the cursed object. gojo's sweet smile fills in those absences as he gestures you to follow him.

perhaps the cursed object gets to you, or gojo’s presence has wormed its way into being comforting because you find yourself following.

"where are we going?" you ask as he leads you around your own home.

"to bed. the medicine will only work if your parasympathetic nervous system is working and considering who you are, you'll never know true relaxation if you're awake."

"hey." you sniffle indignantly. "i know how to have fun and experience leisure."

he hums but doesn't answer, leading you into your room. thinking that a nap would indeed do you good, you start to pull off the shirt you were wearing and wriggle out of your pants. perhaps the sickness had done more to you than you realised, because you forget gojo's presence, whipping your head to find him still standing at your door, his back to you.

"i didn't see anything." he says, immediately.

you grumble, throwing yourself into your bed and sliding under the covers. only then does gojo turn to you.

"you're really docile when you're sick."

"i'll put my foot in your mouth."

gojo laughs, turning around to head out when you call his name.

"are you leaving?"

he smiles, peering over his shoulder. "miss me already? i'll be back, i promise."

"i don't believe in your promises." you say again, but let him go, sleep taking over you. you slip in and out of consciousness as the fever reaches its peak, time slipping away from your knowledge.

every now and then, you hear footsteps, and the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. one time, you open your eyes and find gojo standing over you, a towel in his hands. "good morning."

you mumble out something that even you couldn't understand, and slip into another fever-induced sleep.

the next time you open your eyes, you're relatively more lucid. you sit up slightly and something wet falls off your forehead. you catch the towel in your hands.

gojo looks up from his spot in your chair, placed beside your bed. "you're up again. here, hand me that."

you wordlessly pass it over to him and he replenishes it in the basin he'd placed on your bedside table. you say without thinking, "maybe you really are good at taking care of sick people."

gojo grins, lightly pushing you to lay down again. "i told you so. you're alot less of a handful than megumi was."

the warmth of the towel soothes you and you close your eyes against the sensation. you hear gojo flicking through a book in his hands, and the sound of paper against fingers lolls you into another comfortable slumber. a nagging thought tickles the back of your mind and with effort, you peer up at him.

when you mumble something incoherent, gojo looks over at you. “what?”

“i said.” you lick your lips and try again. “what did you come here for? you never told me.”

he gives you a slight smile and reaches over, adjusting the towel. “you said you were sick. i wanted to check up on you.”

“but—”

“you can’t fall asleep if you keep talking.” he reprimands. “shall i sing you a lullaby so you can sleep quicker? megumi never lets me.”

even before you can reply, he starts beatboxing and you realised in your sick state that it was the intro to twinkle twinkle little star.

regardless, having gotten an answer, you close your eyes again and let the sleep drag you under. vaguely, you realise gojo must have arrived at your apartment immediately after you had informed yaga that you were sick, stopping only to grab the ingredients to his cursed object cure. you'd have to thank him when you wake up, if you remember.

with a soft exhale, you slip away, gojo's rendition of twinkle twinkle little star your escort.

guess who is sick. guess who is sick studying anatomy. guess who is sick studying anatomy and with a gas stove that is out to get her. the answer may shock you!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #fushiguro megumi #gojo satoru x you #ieiri shoko

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starhvney · 3 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the very thing that he wishes to protect is the same thing that causes him torment.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, reverse comfort, love confession, lots of self loathing from laurance, violence, i love elaborating on how terrifying shadow knights are

𝐂𝐖: mentions of violence and gore, he is in fact going crazy, he almost kills you whoops

𝐀/𝐍: that boy is a monsterrrr mo mo mo monster that boy is a monsterrrr (me after writing more mcd laurance angst instead of finishing my requests)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the constant traveling your group has had to endure has been difficult on everyone, but lately it seems as if laurance has been even more on edge, barely hanging on to his temper by a thin thread. he's usually reliable for being calm and collected when tensions are high, yet somehow it seemed like any little thing or comment sent your way was some sort of veiled threat. it wasn’t a mystery why he was acting this way, with the calling tormenting his thoughts and chipping away at his sanity.

you'd hoped to coax him into talking about some things that had been on his mind, and possibly calm the build-up of stress that he seemed to constantly carry on his shoulders. however, the walk through the woods went from anything from tranquil, the thread holding him together snapping when bandits had decided to ambush the two of you. you wanted to stop him, to calm him down. but when the meadow was covered in blood and that same shade of hellish red turned to you in the form of fury-filled eyes, you found yourself frozen in terror.

weapon still in hand, laurance stalks towards you with his sword raised, only seeming to gain back a piece of awareness when a frightened sob leaves your lips. he stumbles back, horror in his eyes as he looks down at you, nothing but pure self-loathing on his face when he sees the pure fear in your eyes.

your breath shudders and you quickly gulp back the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. you knew that if you didn’t speak now he’d distance himself from you, closing himself away for the sake of your safety. “…laurance?”

he falters at his name being said, snapping out of his own thoughts as he stares down at you. his lips curl in an unmistakable expression of mental anguish.. "…you're…you're scared of me. you're scared of me."

the tone of his voice was something you'd never seen him have before. self-hatred, horror, and the sheer amount of pain in his tone was nearly overwhelming. you find yourself in one of the few moments where you've ever seen laurance nearly speechless.

shakily you stand up to your feet, clearly trying to deny his claims. your silent attempt was not very convincing, though, with the trembling of your body and your eyes blown wide. blood from the practical slaughter of the men had splattered onto you, smearing on your skin and soaking into your clothes.

“no…” you breathe, shaking your head as you gulp, taking a shaky step closer to him. “i’m not. i'm not.”

“yes. you are. you should be. i’m a monster, and you should not be getting closer.” he practically snarls out the words, though the look in his eyes was desperate.

“no, you’re not.” you quickly say. there’s a pause as you take another shaky breath, staying in place. “they were going to kill you and me—if not something worse—if you hadn’t done something.”

a flash of anger resurfaces and flickers across his face at the slightest suggestion of that outcome—of you ending up hurt.

“that doesn’t change the fact that i’m a shadow knight.” his voice is nearly a hiss, his sword shaking loosely by his side. “it doesn’t change the fact…that i almost hurt you.”

you take another small step closer to him, chest heaving unevenly as your mind raced. he was right. he did lose his grip on reality and almost eliminated you in his crossfire. what were you supposed to say to that? what could you say to that?

“you may be different, now… but you’re still laurance. my laurance. even after all this time, that will never change.” you whisper.

he’s visibly trembling, jaw clenching and breaths short as he stares at you. he almost stumbles when you take another step forward, eyes squeezing shut as a shuddering breath leaves his lips.

“don’t. don’t come any closer, please, i may lose control again.” he pleads, voice a hoarse whisper.

“no, you won’t. i know you won’t.” you say, voice still hushed and soft, and the trembling in your tone still there. “…sheathe your sword, laurance.”

slowly, he sheathes his sword, the loud noise of it sliding into its case sounding loud against the silence of the forest. yes, you realize, any animal or insect nearby has stopped its chatter, sensing the danger of laurance’s presence and likely fleeing in terror. any living being should, if following their instincts.

slowly you close the distance between the two of you, relying on his closed eyes and concentration on self-control to keep him from backing away from you again. he’s usually so observant, so alert. the fact that he wasn’t even reacting to your approach was telling in itself.

you know the risk of approaching him now. how dangerous it is. in order for him to succumb to the calling all he’d have to do is lose control and kill the person most precious to him, and here you were serving yourself on a silver platter.

“you’re here. with me. you’re not going to hurt me.” you’re just inches from him now. raising up on your tiptoes, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.

the moment your arms wrap around him, a shuddering sob leaves his lips, his arms flinching to hold you back yet hesitating as if to push you away. his brain is in a constant state of internal conflict, one part of him screaming at him to shove you away for your safety and the other part begging to hold you closer.

the possessive part wins.

unnaturally hot armor presses against your ribs as he pulls you up into his arms, his face burying into your neck. shuddering breaths brush across your skin, heated against your collarbone while you watch the flickers of embers leave his armor.

“you didn’t hurt me. i’m fine.” you murmur near his ear, reaching your hands up to run through the hair near the nape of his neck.

your fingertips meet the sensation of thick warm blood, and for a moment you’re frightened it’s his before you realize it must just be from one of the bandits he’d torn through.

laurance’s breathing stutters again when your fingers soothingly scratch against his scalp. he slowly drops to his knees, bringing you down to the ground with him and cradling you to him.

“i could’ve hurt you. had i been a little later, had i lost a little more control…” his voice is nothing but a strangled whisper.

the thought alone nearly sends him spiraling into a panic, arms almost squeezing you uncomfortably tight against the firm metal of his armor.

“no, don’t think about that,” you say, gulping as you let him mold you against him how he needed. “you’re fighting something bigger than you, than both of us. you… you just…”

you trail off.

it’s true. if he hadn’t regained control just a moment later, you’d likely not just be hurt—but dead—and laurance would’ve completely transformed into a shadow knight.

“that’s the problem.” he hisses out through his teeth, the horror in his tone replaced with frustration and hands trembling against you. “i’ve barely been holding on by a thread, one wrong word or comment, and i could lose control. and i could lose you. because of me. what about the next time this happens, huh? when i can’t control myself anymore?”

you’re stunned into silence, mouth opening to speak but no words coming out. “i…”

hands clench against your shoulders as he lifts his face back up, his irises a duller shade of red as he stares down at you. the look in them was silently begging for you to say anything, anything to distract him from the monster he felt himself deteriorating to.

“i could kill you, and you’re defending me. why do you defend me?”

tears fill your eyes as you stare up at him, breath hitching as you reach up to brush your hand against his cheek. “because i love you.”

a quiet groan leaves his lips, eyes squeezing shut and his face tilting to rest his forehead on yours.

“i’ve dreamed of you saying those words to me.” he murmurs, voice thick and full of emotion. “but it was never supposed to be like this. i’ve wanted you so long, and now i can’t have you.”

“you can.” you quickly say, eyebrows twisting up and chest constricting in pain. all this time he’s waited for you to reciprocate his feelings and now he can’t act upon them, with this horrid overpowering urge to harm what he wants most in his head.

a ragged breath leaves his lips, the sound a bitter, frustrated noise.

“no, i can’t.” he sounds like he’s forcing his voice to be harsh, the tone gruff yet trembling in pain. “i want you. i want you so badly, it’s eating me alive. but i can’t have you, not with the calling.”

your lips tremble and tears finally spill over the lids of your eyes. a moment later you’re leaning up and kissing him, hand cupping his cheek and the other over his chest.

the sudden action pulls a strangled sound from his lips, his whole body tensing and freezing in place. for a moment he stays that way, not even breathing before he breaks all at once.

he makes the most pathetic noise against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and yanking you flush against him. the way he kisses you back is desperate, his lips trembling and hands attempting to pull you impossibly closer to him.

you could feel his internal struggle with every tremble of his muscles against you. it was like he was begging you to stay while screaming for you to run away from him while you still could. having you here in his arms now, after all this time, felt like both the highest blessing he could receive and the worst curse sent to torture him for eternity.

“i love you.” you breathe against him, barely able to get the words out in the times you part before his lips crash down against yours again.

“don’t.” he mutters against your lips, his next sentence barely a gasp against your lips. “you’re going to drive me mad, saying those words. you should hate me. you should leave me.”

his body continues to contradict his words as his hands squeeze against you. he knows he needs to let you go, but he’s starving for the feel of your body against his. he knows he needs to push you away. but the selfish… the possessive part of him wants to mold you to his body and to keep you there.

“i love you,” you repeat, fingers digging into… not into firm, unyielding armor, but soft shoulders through the fabric of the linen shirt he was wearing before.

you can’t bring yourself to pull away, too caught up in the feeling of his lips against yours to confirm that he’d transformed back into his human form. but you know. he feels closer, like you’d stepped back into your home and smelled the familiar scent of your belongings after a long and tiring journey.

drinking in each shuddering breath and soft murmur from your lips, he’s pulling you in like you were his first drop of water after wandering through the desert for years. finally, you pull back, regaining the air in your lungs as you look up into his eyes.

and there he is again.

the hellish flicks of firey ashes no longer surround him, and the red veins that showed through his sickly skin have receded, leaving the familiar olive tone of his skin under your fingertips. no longer are his irises an unsettling bloodthirsty red, but back to the cool grayish blues. for a moment, you think you even see a flicker of the green that resided there all that time ago, but then it’s gone once again in the next second.

“…you just need to remember who you are. to ground yourself.”

his eyes squeeze shut at your words, still struggling to catch his breath as he attempts to gather himself, leaning forward into your hands that cup his cheeks.

“…i feel like i’m slipping away more and more.” he whispers out suddenly, voice breaking slightly. “it’s like i can feel it eating at me. i don’t want to lose myself.”

“i won’t let you.” you quickly murmur back, thumbs brushing under his eyes. “you’ll still be you, and i’ll still be me. no matter how much time passes.”

laurance can feel himself leaning further into your touch, desperate for the comfort of it. when he looks down at you again, his eyes look so… incredibly exhausted, dark circles lining underneath them.

you glance back towards the bodies of the bandits around you. there was so much more that needed to be said. to be discussed. but you know the energy to say anything was lost between the both of you.

“let’s go back and rest for now. okay?” you whisper, eyes trained on a splatter of blood against the grass, before looking back up to him.

laurance tenses, following your gaze to the bodies surrounding you. he looks horrified, lips pursing in disgust at the amount of bloodshed and gore he’d left behind. it was easy to forget while in that state, but now, looking back at the lives he so easily extinguished, he feels nauseous.

before he could spiral again you turn his face back towards you, brushing your fingers across his skin. he tears his gaze away from the death surrounding you, hesitating for half a second, before slowly nodding.

“…okay.”

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet, @bakugocanstompme

#aphmau #x reader #aphblr #minecraft diaries laurance #aphmau laurance #laurance x reader #laurance zvhal x reader #laurance zvahl #mcd laurance #mcd laurance x reader

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cursedcatchild · 3 months ago

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Ok, so I watched TOTTMNT and I am here to rant. Also, SPOILERS ahead!

So First of all, if I had to sum up my thoughts into a single sentence it would be: For the love of God, put those turtles back together, where they belong!!

I didn’t hate the show, but I didn’t come to like it either. And no, I did not have any prejudgment just because it was a new iteration. Honestly I was super hyped for this version, because the movie was a blast. Yea, I ended up being disappointed. But let me just elaborate on that:

First let’s take a look at our turtles from worst to best in my opinion.

Mikey:

Yepp, ladies and gentlemen so far I have never seen a single iteration where I didn’t come to like a Mikey. He’s always among my favs. But this version felt super shallow. He had just as much screen time in the series as his brothers and yet I still have no idea who this guy really is. His jokes were lame not really landing, I couldn’t really point out any particular goal or insecurity that anyone could relate to. Also, the guy is super oblivious. Like he took ten minutes to realize he walked into a robbery when he went for groceries. Heck he was having a casual conversation with the robbers.

Leo:

Another kinda shallow guy. Sure we seen a bit of insecurity, he literally quoted Rise Leo saying “ I’m nothing without them!” but it felt irreal. Because Rise Leo had a reason to think that, he wasn’t as much of a functional member of the team and he was always taken for jokes. But right from the beginning of TOTTMNT we see Tales Leo commanding his brothers, they listen to him and even say it multiple times how planning is Leo’s thing. So at this point this Leo is just fucking blind. ( Also April slaps instant self confidence into the boy.)

Raph:

Ok, this is also the first time, but I never really took a liking to a Raph before Tales Raph. Boy is filled with anger and sass, yet he’s not coming off as a total jerk like 2012 Raph. And of course he's not a super softie like Rise Raph ( I don’t hate Rise Raph for being a softie, he's my second favorite Raph) either. He had some fun pipe up and overall a personality I got. I think he’s the most perfect Raph I have ever seen.

Donnie:

The best character of the iteration in my humble opinion. He was relatable, funny, honestly he was stealing Mikey’s job as the comic relief, but at the same time he’s the smart guy. The boy is ranting about not being the IT guy and then goes reprogramming an evil robot. Oh and he saved so many lifes, because he stopped a fucking train crash. He’s epic, I swear.

(My fave screenshot ever 🤣🤣)

Now story wise:

🔥What the fuck was this dumpster fire?! 🔥Who thought splitting up the turtles would be fine?! 😑Especially in a 12 episode season? Look, I don't mind solo or duo time. There were plenty of good ones, for example Rise. I adored the Mikey vs Leo cook off episode or the Gumbus one, but for the sake of my sanity Rise had twice as many episodes and the turtles were not split up for the majority of the story.

Like I'm not joking when I say they were together in 4 episodes intotal.😨😨

Now I heard rumors left and right that the fact that they need to make a show was thrown at the team at the last minute ( IDK how true is that) , but goodness gracious even if I was presented with the task with a “ Due tomorrow label” I could still write a better story. Especially with the goldmine what the writers decided to ignore.

Yes, something that would've made TOTTMNT be really unique….. School people! We were promised that we will explore the turtles from the teenage side. Ummm….Hate to break it to ya all but I think there is no better way to do that than putting them into school.

It would’ve been fire to see them trying to fit in, balancing all the cool hero stuff with school life, maybe wrecking the school, seeing how other teenangers adjust to the fact that now giant talking turtles are their classmates. It wouldn’t be some crazy mind blowing plot, but I swear it would've been amazing.

Now don’t misunderstand me. Despite the story feeling like being all over the place it wasn’t that super bad, but I’m pissed that it could've been better with ease.

Also another thing that bugged me, is the feeling of something missing. IDK if anyone else who watched it felt like this, but I legit felt like if we just grabbed the for example farm arc from 2012 TMNT and aired it as season 1. The fact that the turtles were split and they kept mentioning that they have always been fighting together made me feel like I should’ve seen them do that.

Anyways, If I did not take your will to watch it away, go and check it out. It's not horrible but not great either. I’m disappointed and I'm gonna need Rise back, thank you very much!

#tottmnt #tales of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tales of the tmnt #tottmnt donnie #tottmnt raph #tottmnt leo #tottmnt mikey #review #rant post #new tmnt series #tmnt #screenshots #THIS AIN'T IT MY LOVES #analysis

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meistwentyinchheels · 2 months ago

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LOOK AT MY LOVELY AND BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER THAT HAS BEEN ROTATING IN MY HEAD LIKE A ROTISSERIE CHICKEN SINCE LAST YEAR

ahem,,,my apologies. anyways!

here's the picrew that i used for her https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2288696 and the template for the profile was made by blank house !!

and now for a proper introduction to my main mc for keyframes, haerin 'may' han!! (under the cut)

i'm sure it's obvious from the profile colors, but she is a winter mc! i think she first started existing as an oc of mine in like august of last year which is when i played the demo for the very first time. tbh i could yap about her all day long (i already have done so several times to my friends i'm so sorry y'all), but for consistency sake i'll uh try to keep it short.

so! while her legal name is haerin han (한해린) she does prefer to be called may (due to not so cool lore reasons that you will not be privy to). she's korean-american, born in incheon, south korea while she grew up in los angeles, california,,,and before you ask yes she does have a very slight valley accent. she'll kill if you if you point it out tho lmfao 😭

her birthday lands on july 7th making her a cancer and she's like 5'6 so average height i'd say? oh! she's also extremely musically inclined which then led into her actually releasing music whenever she has the time to (when she's not dying from her homework and exams basically). i could share more, but this is already getting kinda long uhhhhhh (PLEASE ASK ME TO YAP ABT HER BC I WILL.)

my brainrot is actually so bad that i've made like 3 playlists just for may i fear i am slowly losing my sanity please send help,,,uh. anyways! here have one of her playlists actually as i feel like this one encompasses her character like a little better? her other two are more about her past which i am not gonna elaborate on as it's a complete hot mess

AND I ALSO COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MENTION THAT SHE'S MY PERCY ROMANCE ROUTE MC HELP

#keyframes vn #keyframes mc #original character #oc #author ely's shenanigans #guys i can't stop think about percy #he's just so...#DJKWNEHUFOJKJMFK #yk?#also pls ask me to yap abt may i fear i need to share her lore to everyone

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

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anything with max please! but please make it happy ending?

taking a little break from footballers, shall we?

you

despite all the success and achievements max verstappen has secured in his bag, there's still one thing he wishes to have but knows he can't.

max verstappen x doctor!reader

note: this is inspired by one of the scene from one of my favourite kdrama; hospital playlist (s1; 2020). i hope i do the drama some justice for its amazing rollercoaster ride (#spoiler) so max can be humbled for a minute. but this time, i happen to write during my family trip so this is not proof-read yet.

when the name of his very bestfriend popped up, max couldn't hold back from smiling.

he'd previously told her that he's coming back tonight and asked if she was free for a catch up session. due to the nature of their jobs, the two friends couldn't see each other as much as they'd love to.

if he had his way, she wouldn't be working as hard as she is now. nothing in this world can make max's life better—and this was saying a lot when he's achieved everything earthly possible—than to have her at every race. win or lose, max knows there's always someone waiting on him to cross the finish line, as long as he's safe and sound.

nobody ever asks that of him. it's always wins, titles. no matter the cost, no matter the consequence of this very dangerous sport.

"hi—"

"can you come over tonight?"

max's heart immediately took a free dive.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

"so sorry i called you very late into the night,"

she didn't let him express how much he'd missed seeing her. as soon as she opened the door, she strode back inside of her apartment. her hands immediately reached for the white pristine coat hanging on the wall as she passed by.

"i got a call from the hospital but my nanny's not picking up,"

max was still silent. they'd fallen into the habit of her saying the same thing and he'd remembered them all by now. after this, she'd cited her usual justification. "sorry, i forgot telling you about it because there's always someone calling me when i want to do that."

"sorry, i forgot to tell you—"

"i know, i understand," and max truly does. with how little monaco is, he understands she becomes a well-sought surgeon here. he's actually rather proud, if anything. "go save the world."

she looked up at him from behind the kitchen counter, and max swore she looked dashing as ever, with the gentle yellow lighting highlighting her features. she is one of the rare kind, one who never needs an elaborative piece of clothing to enhance her beauty. she is inner beauty personified—at least per max's standard, but supposedly it says a lot because max isn't kidding when he said he'd seen the bests of the world.

"thank you, max. you don't know how grateful i am of you," and that smile right there, radiating gentleness and calmness and pure yet gratitude, is the very reason why he always heeds to her whims. "but my kid's burning right now so can you do things i've listed down here while i'm gone?"

"sure."

there went another of max's resolution, even before he knows what she'd asked of him. he's so puny in her hands that his father once gaslighted him with her as a bait. so different to the cold, ruthless max verstappen everyone labels him to be.

after running through everything on the list together and making sure max understood them once more, for she wouldn't be able to be contacted for at least the next 3 hours, she finally put her arms to the coat hanging on her shoulder proudly. she reached for her bag, and when she was about to pick up the car keys, max halted her hand.

"please use taxi," he said, and she wondered why. "for my sanity sake, knowing you'll make it safe there."

she wanted to argue that there was no guarantee she'd make it safe with a taxi, no different than driving on her own, but she nodded wordlessly. she'd asked max to come down here in short notice, not long after he told her he was in town and only to make him babysit her kid, but he'd come with no question asked. taking taxi was the least she could do for him.

it seemed like the kid knew she left their home, for the cry ensued not long after, like a chick looking for the hen. thankfully it wasn't max's first rodeo, more over when his girlfriend has her kid of her own.

unfortunately.

"hey, hey," he cooed gently, and the little one scratched the teary eyes, crying stopped at the sight of max. he was always the favourite in this household, always coming here with something in his hands the kid doesn't know it exists. toys, actions figures, you name it. "are you okay?"

"maxie?" suddenly he remembered his sister's comment about his father instinct spiking whenever this particular kid was around. he'd even let them call him by his first name, no specific title else needed. so unlike him, when he taught leo and luka to call him by "oom maxie" or uncle maxie in dutch.

"thirsty or hungry, schatje?" max immediately picked up the split version of his best friend, and the feeling of being hugged back affectionately by his best friend's entire world contended the best feeling in the world for him. it was as if the little treasure was trying to get a hold of him entirely with their little arms and hands, like he meant the world for them.

like he is the world to them as much as the kid means the world to him. oh, if only they knew...

the kid passionately shook their head as soon as they tucked themselves comfortably against the crook of his neck. max paced back and forth for them, in hope his bouncy steps would calm them down.

"alright, lieve. you let me know when you do, okay?"

but he was only met by soft snores.

he peered down at his best friend's entire world, the axis to her existence, the reason behind her juggling her personal and professional world just to make sure they get only the best of both worlds. for that alone, max had already loved the kid like his own.

and he'd love to have them as his own, providing everything the kid's heart desire, knowing he could give them everything of it at a heartbeat. knowing he could give them what they deserve, after being deprived of a proper, fatherly love for so long.

if only she let him. if only she saw him as one.

but max knew it all boiled down to him. if only he'd denied her desire to get married to that good-for-nothing that turned out to be a cheating bastard she called her ex-husband, she wouldn't have to suffer everything of this on her own. the child didn't have to go through all the mess life would bring to someone so early in their age.

it pained him that he never let out the "marry me instead" that was poking the tip of his tongue when she'd asked you to be her men of honour. it hurt max verstappen to the point of no return, more than being robbed a championship win, that he could've had the smart kid with her instead from a long time ago, and a life he'd always dreamed of building.

with her, and no one else.

because he knew that whatever he was feeling right now, as he was holding her entire life in the home she built so hard despite the single-mother stigma, is the closest thing to right in this life that feels so wrong.

not even his multiple championship titles he had in his bag. not even the feeling of winning a race so many he'd grown accustomed to. per max verstappen's standard, that was given; with so much hard work he'd been putting since he could walk, thanks to his father.

his phone dinged, breaking his train of thought. it was the alarm that he'd set up to remind him of the checklist she'd made for him. the sound stirred the child in their sleep, and as they noticed him walking away from the room, they whined, "please stay, maxie."

like the effect of the mother had on him, he succumbed to the whim. but good lord, my goodness, there had never been something as liberating as that. it was a paradoxic feeling where you don't feel weak as you surrender yourself, instead it grew so much on him that someone needed him. it feels so damn good to be needed by someone, his heart soared so high as the revelation hit him.

maybe that was what max verstappen had been yearning for.

that one piece in his life that anyone around him didn't know how to fill the void. a home to go back to, he thought, as he fell asleep in such a ridiculous position to fit the crib's size.

but due to his lightning reflex towards every sound and movement around him, max jolted up when he heard a click of the door closing. it was small; he deducted it wasn't mean to be disturbing.

that could only be her checking up on him.

the kid was now drenched in sweat in his embrace, so he decided to change the pajamas first before heading out of the nursery. he did it as fast as he could because he knew she was making his favourite mushroom soup outside from the smell of it.

the pang on his chest came back as he got out of the child's room, only to be met by his best friend's back from the kitchen, busy scooping her signature delicacy to a bowl matching the set only designated for her and her child—his bowl—because it looked so domestic. they looked so domestic like this. they looked like they'd make a great family.

yes, it wasn't the first time they did this, but that was what made it hurt all the same everytime he came over.

"how was the surgery?"

just in time when she turned her body to him. she smiled immediately, both at the sight of a disheveled max and at the question thrown at her. max looked so bulky in the house full of her delicate touch, so different yet not out of touch, for his question brought warmth to her chest.

it'd been a while since someone had asked the question—the simplest question of asking how she'd been holding up at work—that didn't come out from her child's mouth. from someone who actually knew how hard it was to make a living. from someone who was genuinely interested at what she did. from someone all of the above.

"got a bleeding out of hand but all's good now," she'd spare the bloody detail later. right now, she just wanted to bask how peaceful their rhythms are as the f1 winner took a seat on the other end of the kitchen counter. "i hope my kid's not a hassle for you."

"you and your kid can never be a hassle to me," max made sure to stare down at her as he replied her, wanting her to know he wasn't kidding. "i love spending time with you two."

and it scared her deep down to see max so set on what he said. she could only hope he wasn't implying anything else behind his words, for she was afraid it would bring unattained hope to her heart.

despite her strong display she'd paraded around the town, she is only a human with two hands and feet and a heart. and she is a woman, first and foremost, who was once in love in max verstappen.

the real max verstappen before all the achievements, the fame, the titles. when max verstappen had eyes only for the glory, and never hungry for anything else.

but the one-sided journey could be so lonely, she never realised that. it resulted her finding love in a hopeless place. at least that was was she thought, love, until she discovered her ex was cheating with one of her fellow doctors.

so she knew she had to extinguish every kind of sparks before it grew stronger. especially now, where every of her decision doesn't only affect her, but her child also.

"spend your time for something else, max," she smiled bitterly now and max already hated whatever her mind fed her just seconds ago. "tell me, what's your favourite thing to do in your spare time? going for a vacation?"

"whatever it is we're doing now," max replied, soup still untouched. it frightened her that the eyes were not just set anymore; she'd recognised that winning determination anywhere. "wanna know why?"

she sat down, eyes trying to hold his, ignoring the fluttering feeling inside of her and set her mind to simply wanting to know the words he had in mind. max took it as an invitation to might as well break it down.

"because it's you. it's always been you."

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