#once again thank you for sending the ask ^^

[meanbossart]

Are you new here? This is for you!

I've gotten a HUGE influx of new followers since the comic, so, first of all, welcome and thank you so much for liking my art!

If you happen to be totally new here, this is a blog where I post stuff about my nameless durge, DU drow (Dark Urge + "drow"), and theories/thoughts about the game and characters in general, because of that I happen to have a frankly insane backlog of asks that I have managed to tag to a fairly thorough degree, if you'd like to peruse through them!

You can find them all to be easily accessible through my archive (link only works on browser), but here is an index of the major ones/ ones I consider to USUALLY contain the most interesting information:

#DU drow lore #DU drow and astarion #DU drow and shadowheart #Bhaalist DU drow #Orin the red #companion du drow #ask compilations

I also have individual tags for each character if you look up #cazador szarr, #gale dekarios, #astarion, #du drow, #enver gortash, etc. I do suggest doing that in my archive page for easier sorting, rather than on my blog's main page.

You can also look up #advice, #tutorial, and #resources for stuff I've said about the more technical side of creating and posting my art.

If you'd like to read some of my fictional writing outside of ask responses, I have posted a couple of short stories in the #writing tag, and I have an ongoing fic on Ao3 called "A Novel Experience about the aftermath of the game!

Also please take a quick look at my pinned post for links and a couple of frequently asked questions!

Lastly, as a heads up, I get a lot of asks! This is not to discourage anyone from sending more in (I have some that are MONTHS old that I still plan or drawing something about, or character questions that I have replied to after weeks of them sitting in my inbox) but rather just a disclaimer that I cannot reply to all of them, nor would it be a very practical use of my time to 😅 so please don't think anything of it if you don't get an immediate response!

Anyways, thank you once again for the crazy response to the comic and welcome aboard, I hope you like it here!

[dantes-jacket]

My whole world

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends with benefits to lovers, no smut but there is sexual innuendos, confessions in the rain, you guys argue.

I fall in love with him more and more everyday.

Today was a great day or so you thought. Dante brought you your favorite breakfast to bed and spent the whole morning cuddling you. You then went out with Lady and Trish to go shopping in the early afternoon. You saw a cute dog while walking back to Devil May Cry and the owner let you pet him then give him a treat. You then got ready for a night out with your little squad.

Now you’re at the same old bar your group always goes to but you have to watch many women ALL over Dante. If looks could kill they’d all be dead. Dante too on accident. Or is it an accident at this rate? You and Dante probably have the most complicated relationship.

You’ve know each other for a couple of years because he helped you move into your apartment. You ironically moved into the open apartment right next to Lady. They were coming up to her apartment when they saw you struggling to carry everything by yourself. Dante quickly rushed over to you and took the extra boxes in your hands and asked if you needed help.

Lady also pitched in and after a couple of hours, you three got everything into your apartment. To thank them you ordered a pizza and gave them some beers. You all sat down eating and drinking while introducing yourselves. Before they left they each gave you their numbers to keep in touch since you didn’t know anyone in town.

After that night you three regularly met up to hang out in your apartment. Within a couple of weeks they introduced you to Trish and she ended up moving the get togethers to the bar. You don’t mind of course because sometimes cleaning up after the four of you got tedious.

Dante would always stay to help you clean up though. He would also check your apartment to “make sure everything looks good still.” You believed him at first then once you found of the groups profession, you now know he was making sure no demons were lurking anywhere.

But that is the reason why you and Dante got close fast. The little clean up sessions would end up being late night talks or motorcycle rides. You two would talk everyday whether that be over the phone or meeting up.

The relationship didn’t change much until a few months ago. You two were hanging out in Devil May Cry watching a movie and eating pizza. Before you even realized you were in his lap making out with him. Neither of you two know how you two got there but that didn’t stop you two.

That night you ended up sleeping together too. You woke up before him, in his bed. You were also stuck in place because Dante had a tight hold on you. So you just laid there and thought about everything. How did this happen? Will this change things? What will Dante think? Will this ruin your friendship?

You hear a groan in your ear so you wiggle around to try and face Dante. He realizes what you’re trying to do so he loosens his grip on you. Just enough to let you turn around but once you’re facing him he holds tightly onto you again.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he mumbled deeply. You already thought his voice was deep and beautiful but his morning voice is something else. It sends a warmth back to your core. Trying to ignore the heat of your lower area you bury yourself into him.

“Good morning,” you murmur back.

“Want some breakfast? I think I got some stuff. I actually went grocery shopping this week.”

You laugh at his comment knowing that he hates grocery shopping and always “forgets” to do it. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He lets go of you and sits up. He lets out another groan while he stretches then hops out of bed. He grabs his discarded underwear from last night puts them on. He then grabs his shirt and throws it over to you. A silent request and you listen. You throw the shirt on and hop out of bed.

You follow Dante down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dante opens the fridge and looks at the small contents of food he has. He asks, “Is eggs and toast good?”

“Yep, sounds good to me. I’ll make the toast while you can make the eggs.”

Dante nods and goes to prepare the eggs. You grab the bread that is on the counter next to the toaster funny enough. You take out four pieces and pop them into the toaster. While the bread toasts you zone out thinking about this all again.

Dante isn’t acting any different than he normally does. So does he regret this? Is this a one time thing in his opinion? You don’t know. There’s so many questions unasked that are obviously going unanswered. But you don’t know how to start the conversation.

You then feel two strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a warm embrace. Dante’s whole body engulfs you. He leans his chin on your shoulder, “I was calling out to you. Are you okay?”

You just nod your head but that doesn’t convince him. He squeezes you tighter, “Are you thinking about all of this?”

He feels you stiffen for a second, that’s how he knows he’s right. Dante lets out a deep breath and tilts your chin so you can look at him.

You look into his beautiful blue eyes. You can see the message he’s trying to put across. It makes you ease up a bit because if he thought negatively of this situation, he wouldn’t give you such a tender look.

“How about we just go with the flow?” He suggests. “We both know I have a messy life and can’t exactly do relationships so let’s keep it casual. We do what we want when we want to. We can obviously set more rules later but what do you think?”

You think about his offer, so he wants to do a friend’s with benefits situation. The idea isn’t all that appealing because you’re more into being in relationships, but this is Dante. The man you’ve been into since he helped you. You selfishly want him in whatever way you can have him. If this is the only way then you’ll do it. Even if it means sacrificing your emotions.

You look at him and give him a light smile, “I’m in, let’s do it.”

Dante smirks and lowers his hand to your butt and gives it a squeeze, “Atta girl.”

Since that day for months you and Dante have been “secretly” hooking up. It was a secret at first until Trish walked into Devil May Cry and see Dante pounding into you on his desk. Trish then told Lady and those two jumped you one night after work demanding answers.

You sigh and lead them up to your apartment where you sit down and tell them the situation. They are not happy with you or him.

“You like him so why put yourself through that? Get a real man that will actually take you out and be your boyfriend,” Trish and Lady lecture you.

“But- I just… this is the only way I can have him. I’ve liked him for so long and I don’t want anyone else. If this is how I can have him then I’ll take it. Even if it means it’ll slowly break my heart,” you gently whisper not being able to look at them.

Trish walks over and kneels in front of you placing a hand on your shoulder. “I get it that you like him so much but he’s only hurting you.”

You snap your head up to look at her, you don’t like how she’s talking down on him. “No he’s not! He takes me out on dates all the time. We don’t always sleep together. We still hang out normally and do everything we use to just with the addition of sleeping together. He’s really protective and sweet. He’s even gotten me some gifts. So don’t talk down on him like he’s some random bar guy. I love him and I don’t want to hear you belittle him.”

Your eyes widen at your own confession and you slap your hands over your mouth. Trish and Lady both stare at you owlishly.

Lady clears her throat, “You love him?” You nod your head. “And he takes care of you?” She asks to confirm.

“Yes he does.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, “Then why isn’t it official?”

“It’s complicated. Don’t question it, let me deal with all of this.”

That talk was a couple weeks ago and now the two girls watch you seethe in your seat. They see the white haired man talking to all the ladies and making no effort to push them away. You all are too far to hear what they are saying. It’s probably a good thing for your emotional well being.

Trish turns her head to see you knocking back another shot. She’s lost count of how many you’ve done and that’s not good. Normally you barely drink and now you’re pushing it.

“Hey,” she calls out to you. “Take a break yeah?”

You turn to glare at her, “I’m perfectly fine!”

Lady rolls her eyes and just continues to watch this all unfold. Trish has the patience of a saint.

“Why don’t you go dance for a bit? Blow off some steam.”

You beam at her and lighten up. “Oh yeah! I’ll be back later!!” You then run off to the middle of the dance floor.

“Why the hell would you send her drunk and emotional self onto the dance floor?” Lady questions.

Trish slips slowly on her drink, “Because Dante is going to clean his mess up.”

As if she could predict the future Dante comes marching over, “Hey where the hell is she?”

“Who?” Trish asks.

Dante says your name aggressively. Trish then looks over Dante’s shoulder to find you. She finds you in the middle of a group of guys trying to feel you up while dancing. She smirks to herself thinking this situation is perfect.

“Oh she’s just on the dance floor with a bunch of guys over there.” She points to where you are.

Dante snapped his neck so fast. If he was just human he would have definitely broke his neck. He looks to see a crowd of guys all over you trying to lay their hands on you.

His blood boils watching the scene. Before he realized he is marching over to where you are. He’s pushing past people mumbling “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s”.

You don’t even fully realize what’s going on. You’re just trying to dance to one of your favorite songs then suddenly a group of men are around you. They all are trying to get close but you keep dodging them until they have you in the middle of the circle.

You try to keep your head down and keep dancing but that isn’t helping. They are trying to grind on you or try and wrap themselves around you. You hate this. You wanted to dance to get Dante’s escapades out of your head. But now you’re in a stupid situation.

You see a hand reaching out to you in your peripheral vision, you squeezed your eyes shut hoping to delay the event. But the touch never comes. You open your eyes to see Dante holding the man’s wrist. “You better leave her alone if you know what’s good for all of you.”

The men feel this murderous aura pouring off of Dante. They all quickly apologize and scatter off. You’re happy that Dante helped but you’re still mad at him. You turn away from him but he places his hands on your waist and turn you to face him. He then takes your arms and wraps them around his neck before placing his hands back on your waist.

“What, no praise for your knight in shining leather?” He jokes.

You roll your eyes and ignore him. But that doesn’t stop him from pulling you closer and leading you two in a slow dance.

You keep your eyes off of him while you dance and don’t really seem focused in the moment. He can tell you’re drunk but there’s something else bugging you.

He calls your name, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Dante,” you snap.

“Whoa there’s definitely something wrong. Come on you have my full attention so tell me what’s wrong.”

This makes your blood boil. You push him away from you and jab your finger into his chest, “You really have some fucking audacity Dante.”

You then spin around and rush out of the bar. Dante stands there in shock and confused by your sudden shift in emotions. You’ve never yelled and snapped at him before. He’s seen you drunk but you’re more of sleepy drunk. This is really coming out of nowhere in his eyes. He knows he can let your drunk self be by yourself at night so he goes after you.

He pushes open the door of the and steps outside. He feels the rain coming down and he curses to himself. He looks left and right then sees you and takes off after you.

You rushed out of the bar to be greeted by a downpour. Great! Just what you needed after this terrible night. You cross your arms over your chest to try and keep as much warmth as you can.

You sniffle which makes you realize that you are crying. You mutter out “fuck” and wipe your tears. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this agreement. You knew something like this would happen but you just couldn’t say no to such a tempting offer.

You feel someone grab your wrist while saying your name. You know exactly who it is. You try to rip your wrist out of his grip but he’s not budging. You stop the futile fight, “Dante, let go,” You beg.

“No, not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

You turn your head to face him and he gapes at your reaction. He sees your red eyes with tears streaming down your face. He’s never seen you fully cry before. He doesn’t even realize he loosened his grip until you pull your hand away and bolt again.

He quickly takes after you again and this time he runs in front of you to stop you. He’s breathing heavily not because of the running but because of his nerves. “Okay tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“No. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you!” He yells finally tired of your constant dismissal.

You clench your fists and stare right at him, “You wanna know the problem?” Dante quickly nods. “It’s you Dante! You’re the fucking problem!”

Dante feels like he’s been punched in the gut. What do you mean he’s the problem? “What- how… what do you mean I’m the problem?”

You laugh at his answer, “Of course you wouldn’t know!”

“Oh enlighten me then,” he says sarcastically.

“Just go back to your other girls and leave me alone! You did a great job of doing it already, I bet it wouldn’t be hard.”

“Oh so you were jealous? That’s why you’re upset? I was planning on going home with you tonight and fucking you until the sun rose so don’t worry.” He deadpans.

Your jaw drops, the audacity he fucking has. You can’t even right now. You try to walk past him but he sticks his arm out preventing you from getting around.

“DANTE GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY!” You scream.

Dante is even more confused, he thought he fixed this. “Why are you still mad?”

You push past his arm and continue on ahead. “Stop avoiding me!” He yells out to you.

You spin on your heel and stare at him. “You wanna know why I’m so mad?” Dante just nods.

“It’s because I love you Dante! I loved your crazy self ever since you helped me move in.”

You see Dante freeze up completely this time. He opens his mouth then immediately closes it a couple of time then finally mutters, “I didn’t know-“

“Of course you didn’t know because I couldn’t show it or tell you! I was so nervous that morning you were going to tell me that it meant nothing to you and that we should never talk about it. But then you offered the goddamn friends with benefits option and I just couldn’t turn it down.” You throw your hands up in frustration, “I knew doing it would hurt me but I didn’t care. I wanted you. I know it’s selfish but I couldn’t say no. Having you this way was better than not having you in some way. So I decided to do this even though I knew it’d kill me slowly.”

You let the tears flow now and you hiccup, “We gotten so close these past months and have basically acted like a couple. It made me think we really were one. But tonight made me realize we didn’t have a label and I’m not yours and you’re not mine. You can have anyone you want. I got ahead of myself and now we are fighting over my selfishness. We made rules and I broke them. Just do me a favor and go back to having your eyes wander all over those girls.”

You don’t bother to look at Dante. Your heart won’t be able to take it. You decide just to turn around and leave this in the past. You can’t come back from this, especially not after your confession. You start getting further and further from the man you love.

Dante has stood there frozen since your first confession. After every new confession it felt like he was getting stabbed over and over again. He couldn’t bear it. But you were obviously in more pain than him. Yet he is the one that caused it. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t mean for all of this to happen.

He was in the same boat as you. He is in love with you. That’s why he made you the offer. He thought he would get to have you without forcing you to give up a lot of things to be with someone in his profession. But he ended up taking more from you. The exact opposite he wanted.

He watches you get further and further away. Dante can’t watch you get any further because he can’t lose you for good. He can’t turn his back on you two.

He yells your name but you don’t stop. That doesn’t stop him, he’ll chase after you no matter where you lead him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath then yells, “WHY WOULD I HAVE WANDERING EYES WHEN MY WHOLE WORLD IS IN FRONT OF ME!?” Now he watches you freeze and turn around. You two are still at least a hundred feet apart still. He slowly makes his way over to you.

“I’m selfish I know. I caused you more pain than you deserved and I hate myself for it. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. All I ever wanted to do was keep you protected and happy. I’d do anything to make that happen. Those girls that were with me tonight did flirt with me at first but I shut them down. I explained how I am so in love with the woman I brought tonight but I don’t have the balls to tell her. So they tried to help me make a plan to confess.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “How funny is that? I can fight demons all day long but I can’t tell the woman I love that I love her. I made the arrangement because I thought like you, I thought I’d lose you. And god if I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t even bear the thought of you not spending the night anymore.”

He is now only a few steps away from you but stops to give you some space. Dante lightly calls your name, “I know I fucked up but please let me fix it.”

You slowly nod your head indicating him to keep going. He doesn’t waste his chance, “I love you. I am so in love with you and have been since I saw you. Please be with me. No more stupid friends with benefits. Just us in a relationship, where I am yours and you are mine.”

You stare deeply into Dante’s eyes and speak up, “Dante you better not be lying just to try and fix everything. I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it, I truly love you. I swear to you,” he responds without hesitation.

“Okay then yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Dante smiles ear to ear and you can’t help yourself from mimicking his reaction. He doesn’t waste another second before pulling you into a bruising kiss.

His big hands brings back so much warmth you have lost in the rain. His tongue runs along the your lips begging for an entrance. You allow him access and he pushes his tongue to meet yours.

He easily dominates your tongue while having your teeth clash from the intense messy kiss. Dante then lightly bites your bottom lip which makes you moan. Dante pulls you closer after your reaction.

The kiss tastes like alcohol and rain. It feels so right and warm. You never will get tired of the intensity of which Dante kisses at.

After Dante feels your movements slow down a bit he breaks the kiss and leans back to look at you. You’re not crying anymore but you’re completely soaked from the rain.

You break the silence first, “Can we head back now? I’m really tired.” You request.

Dante laughs, “Yeah we can head back.” He turns his back to you then crouches down. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, “Hop on, I’ll carry you back.”

You hop onto Dante’s back and hold onto him tightly. You lay your head on his back and whisper loud enough for him to hear, “I love you Dante.”

“I love you too.” He feels your grip loosen a bit indicating you feel asleep. He smiles to himself then whispers, “Sleep well.”

[ijustwannabecool]

I love the way you write soft! Max so much. Would you write max and best friend reader who’s been in love with him for years but it’s one sided, until he realizes after she’s starting to date other people that he is in love with her?

Late Realizations

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

Summary…You’ve loved Max for years. Quietly. Completely. When you finally start dating someone else, he realizes—too late—that he might’ve been in love with you the whole time. But love, if it's real, always finds its way home.

Warnings: Unrequited love (turned requited), jealousy, emotional tension, soft heartbreak, cursing, comfort, fluff, past almost-kiss

A/N: I hope I did the story justice and that you enjoy it! Thank you for your request, it meant the world to me. Happy reading and have a beautiful day :)

Like, reblog, and comment :)

----

You’ve always known where you stand with Max.

Right beside him.

Not behind. Not in front. Just beside.

It started like this:

You were nine. He was ten. You were the new girl at the track, tagging along with your older cousin who karted on weekends. You were trying to tie your shoelaces and stay out of the way when a boy crashed into you—literally.

His kart spun out. Your laces weren’t even tied.

“Shit!” he’d yelled, hopping out and brushing gravel off his arm. You were crying. He froze, wide-eyed. “Don’t cry! Are you—are you okay?”

You nodded, barely.

He blinked. Then scrambled to pull something from his pocket: a tiny, squished chocolate bar.

“Here,” he said, shoving it into your hand. “Don’t cry. I’ll get in trouble.”

It was the worst peace offering. You took it anyway.

You saw him again a week later. Then again. And again. Until he started waiting for you by the snack cart. Until his dad learned your name. Until you became the girl Max always talked about.

Somewhere between shared ice creams and races watched from behind fences, you became friends.

Somewhere after that, you fell in love with him.

——

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝑫𝒂𝒚 — 𝒀/𝑵’𝒔𝑷𝑶𝑽

You set your phone down slowly after sending the text.

Date tonight. 7:30. Wish me luck?

You hadn’t planned on telling Max. It’s just dinner with someone from the gym. A guy with a charming smile and average conversation skills. But it feels… momentous.

The first real step forward in years.

You stare at the screen, waiting. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Finally:

Max 🦁: Why are you going out with him?

Not good luck or have fun. Just that.

You sigh. You don’t reply.

You leave the apartment in a soft dress and your favorite lipstick—the one Max once said made you look like a movie star. Your hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel the whole way there.

You wonder, as you park, if he’s still thinking about it. If he cares.

——

You don’t expect the flood of messages midway through dinner:

Max 🦁: Did you lock the balcony door? Do you think your spare charger’s still in my travel bag? What’s that restaurant we went to after Spa? The one with the weird lights?

You stare at the screen, heart thudding. He’s never needed this much attention. Not like this. Not from you. Not all at once.

And then your phone lights up again.

Incoming call: Max 🦁

You excuse yourself, heart in your throat.

“Max? What’s going on?”

A pause.

“I’m at your place,” he says. “My ceiling light’s not working. Can I borrow your toolbox?”

You blink. “…It’s not.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Another pause. A breath. “No. But I didn’t know who else to call.”

Your voice is softer than it should be. “I’ll be home soon.”

And you are.

——

You don’t talk about it. You never do. But when he’s sitting next to you later, watching some rerun in silence, you feel it building. The thing you’ve always avoided naming.

You glance at him. His arms crossed tightly. His jaw clenched.

“You okay?” you ask.

He nods without looking. “Yeah.”

But his voice sounds like no.

You don’t push. You just lean back into the couch and watch the glow of the screen dance across both your faces.

And you wonder—how much longer you can keep pretending this doesn’t hurt.

——

Max’s POV — The Realisation

It hits him on a Tuesday.

He’s mid-sim training, watching old data, and something feels off. The rhythm’s wrong. His head’s not in it.

He pulls off the headset. Stares blankly at the screen.

His mind wanders—to your laugh, your handwriting on his fridge notes, your perfume lingering in his car. Your stupid, charming date.

He remembers your hand brushing his in the grocery store two weeks ago. How he felt it for hours after.

He remembers Monaco. The almost-kiss. How his heart beat out of sync for days.

He remembers last night. You sitting on his couch, too quiet.

And suddenly, it clicks.

Oh.

He’s in love with you.

Has been. For longer than he wants to admit.

He fucked it up.

And now?

You might be moving on.

He bolts upright.

He can’t let that happen.

Not without trying.

Not without telling you first.

——

He tries. He really does.

He sees you again three days later, standing at the paddock hospitality with your sunglasses pushed up into your hair and your arms crossed as you laugh at something Charles says.

Max doesn’t like it. At all.

He walks up. You smile like nothing’s changed. Like you don’t notice the chaos beneath his skin.

“Hey, stranger,” you tease. “Did your light survive the week?”

He forces a laugh. “Barely.”

Charles raises a brow, watching the exchange like a hawk. He knows. Of course he knows.

“So,” Max says casually, trying to sound unaffected, “any more dates lined up?”

You pause. Not because you’re caught off guard, but because you’re deciding how honest to be.

“Maybe,” you say, voice light. “There’s this guy who works with the F2 team. Nice smile. Very single.”

Max’s jaw twitches.

Charles coughs into his drink, trying not to laugh.

You don’t mean it to be cruel. But Max feels it like a punch anyway.

He doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, heart hammering.

You’re slipping away from him. Slowly. Quietly.

And he’s the one who left the door open.

——

It’s late. Quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with something unsaid.

You’re both in his kitchen, after a long evening—just the two of you. You came over to borrow a jacket for a costume party, but stayed for wine, leftover pasta, and some old F1 replays you always pretend to care about.

Max is sitting on the counter, legs swinging gently. You’re across from him, barefoot, in one of his oversized hoodies.

The kind of night that used to feel normal. Effortless.

But now, there’s tension in the air. A weight behind every glance.

You’re laughing softly at a story he’s telling, one you’ve heard before but still love. And then—

You both go quiet at the same time.

The pause stretches. You look at him. He looks at you.

It feels like Monaco. Again.

His eyes flick to your lips.

Yours don’t move.

“Max,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You’re not sure what you were going to say. It’s stuck in your throat.

He leans in slightly. Just enough to test the air. His knees brush yours.

You lean in too—barely—but he feels it. Feels the shift.

“Why haven’t you ever…” you trail off.

He looks at you, eyes wide. Vulnerable.

“I was scared,” he admits. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

You nod slowly. “And now?”

Max swallows hard. “Now I think I’m losing you anyway.”

It’s too much. You look down. You stand up. Break the moment before it breaks you.

“I should go,” you say, voice too soft.

Max doesn’t stop you.

Not yet.

But he will.

——

Flashback — Monaco, 2019

The suite was quiet, the champagne buzz soft behind his temples. Max had just finished a round of interviews, still riding the high of the podium. His hair was damp from the shower, his voice low and tired.

You were curled into the couch in his hotel hoodie, legs folded beneath you, mascara slightly smudged from laughing too hard an hour ago. He remembers that moment too vividly—how peaceful you looked. How close.

You’d been teasing him, saying you were going to steal his last protein bar if he didn’t stop winning.

He laughed. And then he looked at you.

Really looked.

The lighting was warm. Your lips were pink from the wine. You weren’t saying anything. You were just… smiling at him. Eyes soft.

He leaned forward. Slowly. Testing the air between you.

You didn’t move away. Your lips parted just barely. Your hand was resting close to his thigh. Too close.

And then—

His phone buzzed.

Loud. Jarring. A reminder.

You blinked, pulled back first.

“It’s late,” you whispered, standing. “We should sleep.”

He never reached for you again after that.

But he never forgot it.

——

Max’s POV — The Confession

He shows up at your door like he’s done it a thousand times.

Except this time, it’s different. He’s not coming to borrow sugar. He’s not here to drop off race merch you forgot at his flat. He’s here to undo years of silence.

You open the door, eyebrows raised. “Hey. What’s up?”

Max doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightens, then relaxes. He looks like a man on the edge of something big.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

You step aside. “Of course.”

You expect him to sit. He doesn’t. He stands in your living room like he’s holding his breath.

“I need to tell you something,” he says. “And I need you to just… let me say it.”

You nod. Slowly. Carefully.

Max rubs the back of his neck. “That night in Monaco. You remember?”

Your heart skips. You nod again.

“I was going to kiss you,” he says. “I wanted to. More than anything. And I didn’t. I let it go because I thought if I crossed that line, I’d lose you.”

He steps closer.

“And then I watched you go on dates with guys who don’t know your coffee order. Who don’t know your favorite movie or that you cry when you see baby ducks.”

You laugh wetly, one hand covering your mouth.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Max says. “And I think I was just too stupid—or too scared—to admit it. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want it to be me.”

You don’t say anything. You just stare at him, eyes glassy.

“I know I’m late,” he whispers. “But if there’s even a chance… please. Let me catch up.”

He finally takes a breath.

And waits.

——

You don’t speak right away.

You just stare at him, eyes stinging, throat tight, heart beating somewhere near your ears.

Of course, you remember Monaco.

You remember everything. The way he looked at you. The breath you held when he leaned in. The disappointment that lingered for days when he didn’t close the space.

You remember convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

It always did.

You wrap your arms around yourself like a shield. “Do you know how long I waited for you to say that?”

Max blinks, startled.

You laugh, and it’s watery. “I used to practice it, you know? In the mirror. What I’d say if you ever told me you loved me.”

His voice is soft. “And what would you say?”

“I don’t remember the exact words,” you admit. “But I remember the feeling. That maybe, someday, you’d show up and say everything I was too scared to believe.”

Max steps closer, eyes searching yours. “I’ve been talking myself out of this for years. Every time I looked at you, I felt it. And then I’d hear myself say ‘best friend’ and convince myself that was safer.”

You nod slowly, tears threatening to spill. “I thought if I ever said anything, it would ruin us. But not saying it… ruined me too.”

There’s silence for a second, then Max reaches for your hand.

“I thought maybe if I kept you close, I’d never lose you. But I did lose you, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

“Almost,” you whisper. “You almost did.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“You were always there, Max,” you continue. “But you were never mine. And I wanted to be yours. I wanted to be the person you called first, the hand you held in front of the world.”

“You are,” he says, voice cracking. “I just didn’t let myself believe I could have you.”

You finally step into his arms.

He holds you tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“You’re late,” you whisper again, resting your head against his chest.

“But I’m here,” he breathes. “I’m finally here.”

——

You sit on the couch together, a blanket thrown over your legs, two mugs of tea long forgotten on the table. It’s quiet—not the kind of silence that’s awkward, but the kind that hums with something new. Something tentative. Sacred.

Max looks over at you. “So… are we?”

You tilt your head. “Are we what?”

He flushes slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “Together. Like, officially. Do I get to call you mine now?”

You smile, slow and soft. “Only if I get to call you mine too.”

His grin breaks through. It’s the kind of smile that makes your stomach twist and your heart finally relax.

“You always could’ve,” he says.

You nudge him with your knee. “You’re unbearable.”

“Unbearably in love with you,” he quips.

You groan. “Okay, we’re dating, but don’t get cocky.”

He leans in, forehead to yours. “No promises.”

——

Epilogue — The Finally

It happens at a dinner in Monaco. One of those post-race gatherings that’s half celebration, half chaos. The whole crew’s there—Charles, Lando, Daniel, Lily, Kelly. Even Christian drops by for a minute before getting pulled into a conversation about tires.

You’re tucked beside Max at the end of the table, his hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your jeans.

You’ve never done this before. Not like this. Not with the world watching.

Daniel’s halfway through a story about a disastrous prank on Yuki when someone asks—point blank.

“So… are you two finally together or what?” It’s Charles, grinning like he already knows the answer.

The table goes still. All eyes shift to you.

Max squeezes your knee.

You smile, fingers intertwining with his. “Yeah,” you say simply. “We are.”

The reaction is immediate and chaotic.

“FINALLY!” Lando groans, dropping his head to the table.

“I told you!” Lily shouts, pointing a victorious finger at Daniel.

Kelly’s eyes glisten as she reaches for your hand. “You two were always meant to be. We all saw it.”

“About time,” Charles mutters, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Daniel just whistles. “I lost money on this happening before 2022. You owe me, mate.”

Max laughs—really laughs, the sound full and warm—and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Told you they’d lose their minds.”

You beam, resting your head on his shoulder. “Worth the wait?”

He turns his face, presses a kiss to your temple.

“The best thing I’ve ever waited for.”

You stay like that for a moment, tucked into him as the people you love most celebrate what they’ve known all along.

That you and Max? You were never just friends.

You were always heading here. Together.

——

The party is long over. The voices, the laughter, the clinking glasses—they’ve all faded into memories wrapped in candlelight.

Now, it’s just the two of you.

You wake to the soft rustle of sheets and sunlight slipping through the linen curtains of Max’s apartment. His arm is around your waist, his nose pressed into your shoulder. He’s still asleep, breathing even and slow, like this is the first real rest he’s had in days.

You turn slowly, careful not to wake him.

But he stirs anyway, lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you with that sleep-hazed softness you secretly adore.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Hi,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.

He tightens his hold, pulling you a little closer. “You stayed.”

“I always used to stay,” you say softly.

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes. “But this is different now, isn’t it?”

You nod. “It is.”

Max shifts onto his side, propping himself up with one elbow. “I want to do this right,” he says. “Not just the dinners and kisses. I mean… really be with you. Wake up next to you. Make coffee with you. Go to races knowing you’re mine.”

You smile, heart warm and full. “Then let’s do it right.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Start today?”

“Start now,” you say, pulling him down into a kiss.

The rest of the world can wait.

This moment—this soft, unhurried, long-awaited beginning—is yours.

——

A/N: As I said earlier, I hope I did your story justice and that you enjoyed it. If you have any more requests please feel free to send them my way. I can't wait to see what you guys send my way and what we can create together. Have a beautiful day today and I hope this brings you joy (:

[theangeltopaz]

“TEDDY BEAR.”

SYNOPSIS. You finally decide to take Whitney on a proper date. Of course, as all things with Whitney do, it evolves into something more. WC. 4.9k

CONTENT. SubBot!Whitney, DomTop!Reader, amab reader, implied taller reader, pre-established relationship, smoking, soft sex, dacryphilia, praise (char. receiving), Whitney has tongue and nipple piercings, unprotected sex, anal, fingering, spit as lube, oral (char. receiving), overstimulation, cum eating, exhibitionism? (yall do it with the window open, but i was picturing it as a screened window that just led to a backyard so)

AUTHOR’S NOTE. This was definitely an excuse to write sub Whit. I fucking love a Whitney that’s a loser for his boyfriend, if you couldn’t tell. Might be ooc Whit. Partially inspired by @hellsslibrary ‘s headcanons. Please be merciful if this is bad, as I’ve never written smut and I haven’t written fanfic in a while. Also I’m acearo and a virgin, so we’ll see how this goes. I may end up writing a hard dom reader in the future, but for now take soft dom reader. I wrote the majority of this whilst listening to Mitski. Constructive criticism and tips are very much accepted and appreciated!

If you choose to click ‘Keep Reading’, you are consenting to reading smut.

Yeah, this date was probably the smartest idea you’ve had in a while. Or Sydney had. 

Because now you were cuddling a soft Whitney after sex.

Pretty nice, ain’t it?

       Let’s go back to when this started. You were in the library with Sydney, absentmindedly picking up books and admiring the cover or reading the synopsis. “Syd, do you know of any good date spots? I feel like Whit and I haven’t gone on a proper date in a while.”

       Sydney probably wasn’t the best person to ask this, considering the fact that you’re pretty sure he’s never been on a date. But you guys were close friends, so who else were you supposed to ask?

       “I mean, if I were to go on a date, we would probably go for a walk near the temple-“ he started.

       “No temple.” 

       “Fine. No temple. Uhm, you could go to the park-“

       “We have been to the park. Many times.”

       “Right, I forgot about that,” he said, recalling some of the tales of your… escapades with Whitney in the park. “Uhm, the arcade?”

       “…We have an arcade?”

       “Yeah…?”

       “Okay, thanks so so much Syd.  You’re a lifesaver,” you said, beginning to walk away. You then realized something and turned back around. “Where exactly is the arcade?”

       He laughed a little. “I’ll send you the address.”

       Your shoes squeaked against the hallway tile as you walked. Entering the cafeteria, you took in the many lunch tables. “Where the fuck is Whitney?” you mumbled to yourself. Which was reasonable, considering the fact that you saw Whitney’s friends, the ones you so despised, but not Whitney himself. You needed to talk to him about that date idea Syd had given you yesterday. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t see him in math class either. Sometimes you feel like pulling a Kylar and putting a tracker on Whitney. Once again, reasonable considering you never seemed to know where he was. Maybe he was skipping school, but wouldn’t his friends be with him? You got out your phone to text the blonde. Strange. You had one unread message from him, sent this morning.

       “There you are, slut,” someone said, grabbing your wrist. You slipped your phone into your pocket and let the person lead you. Of course, you knew immediately who that someone was, considering their voice and choice of a vulgar nickname.

       “Hello to you, too, Whitney,” you responded. You didn’t question where he was dragging you, much to his surprise. Instead, you decided to inquire about something else. “Where have you been?”

       “Don’t worry about that,” he grumbled. Did you always look this pretty? Why did you always worry about him?

       “Where are we going?”

       “Shut up, slut.” Nevermind. You asked too many questions.

       “Okay, fine.”

       Whitney pushed you into the bathroom and locked the door. It’s clear that his actions are fueled by lust. He pressed you against the wall with his own body. He’s been thinking about this, about you since this morning. “Did you not see what I texted you?” he asked, seething with both anger and desire.

       “No? I actually try to pay attention in class,” you said, rolling your eyes. Whitney often found himself hating that you actually tried in school, because that’s more time you spend in the library and less with him.

       “Whatever, slut,” Whitney said, then he pulled you down and pressed his lips to yours. Finally, he got what he was waiting for. The kiss was rough, deep, desperate. You wrapped an arm around his waist, whilst your other hand traced up and down his spine. You were always so gentle and rough at the same time. He wasn’t usually this needy for you, but sometimes Whitney’s mind got the better of him.

       The blonde continued pressing up against you and you continued kissing him. One of your hands trailed from Whitney’s back to his jaw. You tilted his head up to make this a little easier for yourself. In turn, the kiss grew more forceful. Your hand on his jaw moved behind his head, gripping on his hair roughly. He groaned in response to your treatment. Fuck, why did you always do this to him?

       You bit down not-so-gently on his bottom lip. The oh-so-scary Whitney let out a goddamn low whine and opened his mouth. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, forcing his jaw to open wider. His own tongue slid into your mouth, the cold metal of his tongue piercing brushing over your tongue. The blonde could taste something saccharine on your tongue, a taste that was so distinctly you. Whitney could feel himself losing any train of thought. He hated that you always knew how to make his head feel fuzzy and his body feel warm. He started leaning on you, relying on you for support.

       You broke the kiss, only to ask,“Was this what that text was about?” You were seriously choosing now of all times to start talking to him? “Hurry up, slut,” Whitney muttered as he grabbed onto your hair, making you moan. You pulled the blonde’s head back by his hair and latched onto his jaw. You made your way down his jaw and neck, sucking hard, just how he liked it. He was sure his neck would be purple tomorrow, if not just later. You licked over a certain spot, your teeth grazing over it. He whined again (how did you always know how to make him whine?) and just as you were about to bite down…

       The bell rang. You rolled your eyes, obviously annoyed, and pulled back.

       “Keep going, slut,” Whitney grumbled, looking up at you and glaring. Since when did you stop because of the bell? It wouldn’t be the first time you both had gotten in trouble for skipping class to fuck.

       “I’d rather not get detention, considering the fact that we have plans after school,” you responded. Plans?

       “The fuck do you mean we ‘have plans’?”

       “I’m taking you on an actual date, for once. To the arcade.”

       “…Why?”

       “When was the last time we went on an actual date?“

       “…Fine.” Whitney hated to admit it, but you had a point. It had been a while since your last date. And, he could use this as an excuse to get you to come home with him and finish where you left off…

       “Okay, baby. Love you.” You always insisted on being so affectionate, not that he minded.

       “Shut up, slut,” Whitney muttered, “Love you too.” He could feel a hint of red in his cheeks. His body was betraying him at the worst possible moment right now.

       You laughed. Fuck, your smile was gorgeous. Did your voice always sound that good? Maybe he was going insane. “See you after class, Whit,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead and walking away. He let you leave. He couldn’t help but look forward to tonight.

       Jesus fucking Christ, Whitney hated it here. As soon as the final bell rang, he was out of class. He could see you chatting with Sydney as you walked out of the doors. Little did he know that you were really just trying to keep your eye out for a certain blonde that you so adored. 

       Sydney wished you goodbye as he started walking away, probably to the temple. You were still looking for Whitney.

       “Hey slut.” You seemed caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the person you were looking for. You intertwined your hand with his. “Hey, Whit.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead for the second time today. Whitney could pretend he hated how soft you were with him, but you could always make him melt. Sure , he liked when you were rough too, but with your gentle kisses and your reverent way of touching him and the pleasant nights you spent together… God, his thoughts were trailing again. He could feel himself turning red.

       “What are you thinking about, Whit? You’re blushing a lot,” you said smugly, pulling Whitney out of his thoughts. Fuck you and his perceptiveness. You were unfairly good at reading him.

       “Shut up, slut. Are we going or not?” the blonde said, attempting to change the subject. Anything to get you to stop talking about him. Otherwise, Whitney might end up begging on his knees for you to fuck him. And he did not beg.

       “Okay, okay.” Whitney watched you take out your phone. Your background was a photo you took of you and him, back when you had first started dating. You had managed to get him to begrudgingly do a hand heart with you and you were so proud of that moment that you made it your wallpaper. As much as Whitney didn’t want to admit it, he liked that photo.

       You opened your messages with Sydney and plugged the address that he gave you into your maps. He felt you tug his hand and you both started walking in the direction of the arcade.

       “It really has been forever since we went on an actual date,” you said, sounding rather excited. Whitney could tell that even if you sounded eager, you were just trying to occupy the silence. If he was being honest, and as much as he did like your voice, he was content to just admire you, to trace your features with his eyes, and to think about everything you could do to him… Fuck, his thoughts were trailing again.

       “Yeah, it has,” Whitney said in response, sounding completely out of it. Probably because he was.

       “You feeling okay? You’ve been zoning out a lot.” You sounded concerned. You were always worrying about him, caring for him. God, even in the bedroom, you were so… sweet. He was blushing again. You really had made your way into his heart. You had the first day you both met.

       “I’m feeling fine, M/N.”

       “Hm, you didn’t call me ‘slut’ for once.”

       Whitney smiled a little. “Don’t think too much of it, slut.”

       You smiled in turn and said. “You’re so pretty when you smile genuinely.”

       The arcade was a short walk from the school, probably to attract students who just got off. You don’t know how you didn’t know about it. Your steps transitioned from loud to almost silent as you went from the dull sidewalk to the colorful carpet of the arcade. There were people everywhere and screens flashing with various game titles. It was filled with the buzz of laughter and noise from various machines. You looked at Whitney, meeting his eyes. “Where do you want to start?”

       “Hm…” He smirked and dragged you to one of those two-person shooter games. “Here.”

       “Alright!” 

       You both sat down in the seats provided for the game and you slid some money in the machine. While the beginning cutscene played and you watched, Whitney was staring at you. He knew you liked these sorts of games and he liked how focused you got during them. The light from the screen highlighted your facial features and the grin on your face. 

       As the actual game started, you immediately delved right in and started shooting the black tar monsters. Whitney snapped out his trance and started playing too. You both easily passed through the first few rounds of the game. There were points where you had to revive each other, but you both were having fun. When you both had finally died without being able to revive, you had accumulated a ton of tickets. 

       Whitney wasn’t focused on that, though. The look of joy and determination on your face was his entertainment right now. He loved how you looked when you were focused. After the game, you looked at Whitney with an emotion in your eyes that could only be called adoration. “You lead the way, Whit.”

       By the time you both were done, you'd played almost every game in the arcade. Right now, Whitney was watching you as you concentrated on a claw machine. You were trying to line up the claw perfectly to win Whitney a teddy bear. Of course, you knew of his collection of plushies, so you were determined to win this for him.

       Whitney, of course, was more preoccupied with looking at you. For the millionth time today, he thought about your face now and compared it to the way you acted in the bedroom. He loved when you focused solely upon him, when you fixated upon pleasuring him. The way your eyes and hands and mouth ran over him… You were probably the best lover he’d ever known, with the way you treated him. He was far from ready to admit that, though.

       Your laugh brought the blonde out of his thoughts. Whitney watched as you bent down—he hardly resisted the urge to slap your ass—and excitedly grabbed the teddy bear you had been trying so hard to get for him. You handed it to him triumphantly, saying,“For you, baby.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his nose, then to his mouth. He, shockingly, let you get through all three before (lightly) shoving you off him.

       “Thanks, slut,” he muttered. He was blushing and clutching onto the teddy bear tightly.

       “So, what are you thinking we do with the tickets?” you said, grinning at his flustered expression.

       You ended up buying another plushie for Whitney and some candy with the tickets you both collected. He was laying his head in your lap as you sat in Whit’s bed and passed back and forth a cigarette. Whitney was holding onto the teddy bear you won him. The sun was starting to set outside and casted a golden glow on the room, making it look like the confession scene of an 80s romcom. The first wisps of the cool night air passed through the open window.

       Whitney could feel you gently trace the line of his jaw as he breathed in smoke from his cigarette. He tilted his head toward your touch. You were looking at him with that look in your eyes again, the one he had seen many times before. That look of pure love. You were the only one to ever look at him that way. As much as Whitney loved your affection, he didn’t know how he deserved it.

       The blonde breathed the smoke out, and clumsily sat up in your lap whilst still holding the bear. He straddled your lap, each of his legs bordering your hips. The golden rays of sunlight hit your features perfectly and reflected in your eyes, which met his. Although the room was silent, a thousand words were spoken in that moment.

       Whitney brought the cigarette to your lips. You closed your eyes and breathed in deeply as you continued to trace his face. Whitney pulled the cigarette away from your face as you exhaled. The smoke framed your head like a halo. It was almost ironic, because, in Whitney’s eyes, you were simultaneously so close and so far from being an angel. You were compassionate and affectionate, but you could be downright sinful with your gentle hands and honeyed kisses.

       Whitney inhaled from the cigarette again. This time, before exhaling, he connected your lips. He breathed the smoke into your mouth. You pulled back and breathed out.

       Whitney extinguished the cigarette, before reconnecting your lips. You kissed him back with a certain reverence. Earlier, your kisses were quick and rough. Now, they were sensual and tender. 

       You cradled his face in one hand, whilst the other rested on his hip. Whitney leaned into the gentle caress of your hand as he continued kissing you slowly.

       You broke the kiss with a soft smile. “Relax your jaw for me, yeah?” you had asked in that fucking enticing tone of yours that always compelled him to listen.

       After he nodded, you kissed Whitney again, and he did as you asked of him. You pushed your tongue past his soft lips and traced the inside of his mouth with it. Whitney let out a soft groan as he sucked on your tongue. You tasted like the tobacco of the cigarette you had just smoked.

       You pulled back from his lips, causing the blonde to let out a soft whine. “It’s alright, Whit,” you whispered reassuringly, as you started pressing soft kisses to his neck that was already littered with bruises from earlier. Whitney tilted his head up so you could have better access. Your mouth caressed his skin continuously, occasionally nibbling or licking him a little. Your persistence caused the blonde to let out soft moans of pleasure, which got a little louder when you bit down a little harder.

       Your hands moved to the buttons of Whit’s shirt. You asked, once again in that soft tone of yours,“Do you want to go further?”

       Whitney nodded his head, muttering a soft ‘yes.’ His brain was a little too fuzzy to focus on words right now. He still held on to the teddy bear you won him, fidgeting with its fur as you unbuttoned his shirt.

       As soon as you undid the last button, you slipped the shirt off him. “You’re always so pretty, Whit.” Whitney blushed at your shameless admiration of his body. You looked at him like an angel fallen to earth.

       You flipped your positions, making Whitney lie down on the bed with you over him. His body hit the mattress with a silent ‘umph’. You resumed pressing kisses to his body, this time to his torso. Your mouth ran over his collarbone, before moving down to his chest. 

       Your tongue flicked over the cold metal piercing in one of his nipples, whilst your hand came up to play with the other one. He moaned and shivered at the just feeling of your touch, the sensation going straight to his dick. Fuck, his head was spinning and you had hardly don’t anything.

       Whitney arched his back up into your stimulation of his chest. You switched, sucking on the other bud whilst you rolled the one you were sucking on between your index finger and thumb. “More…!” Whitney moaned. He was pretty sure you knew his body better than he did, as you knew how to pleasure every sensitive spot that made him so vocal.

       After you were sure you had given each of his tits equal attention, you pulled off. Whitney tried to seem angry at you, but he just ended up whining instead.

       “Mm, it’s okay, Whit. I’m gonna take care of you.” Whitney looked up at you, meeting your eyes. You looked at him softly, like he meant the world to you.

       You slipped off your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind you. Whitney traced a hand over your torso, the other still clutching the bear, as you made him spread his legs a bit wider. He let out a low moan when you gripped his thighs and slipped one of your legs against his crotch.

       Your hands moved to the waistband of his pants, and your fingers traced the line where skin met fabric. “Hurry up, slut…” he muttered, but there was no malice behind it.

       “Alright,” you whispered against the skin of his neck, causing him to shudder against you. “You’re planning on holding onto the bear?”

       Whitney silently nodded his head, too embarrassed to admit it out loud.

       “Okay, baby.” You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, slipping them off his legs. You thumbed at the edge of his boxers and cupped his dick through it, causing Whit to whine. Why were you choosing now of all times to be unfair? You laughed a little at his whine, biting down gently on the junction between his neck and shoulder whilst massaging his tip through his boxers. “Agh- please…” Whitney moaned. He then blushed, realizing he was practically begging for your affection. He attempted to hid his face in the bear his was still holding.

       “Patience, Whit,” you said, but proceeded to contradict yourself and gave him what he wished for anyway. You slipped your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down all the way. His dick slapped against his stomach, already dripping pearlescent precum.

       “You never fail to take my breath away, baby.” You and your dulcet words often left Whitney desperate and wanting. With the way you looked at him, one could have sworn the blonde had hung the stars by hand. 

       You slipped off the rest of your own clothing as quickly as you could, revealing your own hard cock. Once completely stripped, you caressed both of Whitney’s thighs and brought his legs to wrap around your waist. Your gentle touch had him feel like he was floating.

       Your fingers traced up Whitney’s dick, collecting beads of precum that had dripped down. “P-please! need you…” he moaned, clutching on tightly to the teddy bear. Whitney’s usual facade slipped only a little when he was with you normally, but during sex, you stripped him down with your persistent hands and unwavering gaze.

       “I know, Whit, I’ve got you.” You brought your fingers, which were lightly coated in Whitney’s own fluids, to his mouth. He parted his lips, allowing you to push two of your fingers in. The blonde whimpered at his own salty taste and the inherent intimacy of consuming his precum from your fingers. He sucked on them, swirling his tongue as you scissored the digits in his mouth. He looked at you wordlessly, but you knew him well enough to tell he was begging for more.

       You pushed a third finger in his mouth, thrusting in and out. Once you determined that your fingers were wet enough, you removed them from Whitney’s lips. You brought the digits back down to his pelvis, grazing his flushed tip teasingly, before bringing them to his ass.

       “Please…” Whitney muttered. He looked up at you with desperation in his gaze in an attempt to get you to conform to his whims.

       “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whispered. Two of your fingers breached the tight ring of muscles, aided by Whitney’s saliva, and began to stretch him out. You thrusted the digits in and out him, scissoring occasionally.

       This contributed to the loss of Whitney’s already slipping control, as he was already having trouble forming coherent thoughts. He attempted to bite back a moan when he felt you slip a third finger in him.

       “Taking it so well, hm? I wanna hear you. You’ve been so good for me so far, you’ll get something better soon, Whit,” you said, your voice a bit gruff with arousal. You continued thrusting your fingers into Whitney, drawing more moans and whines from him.

       Deeming him stretched out enough, you pulled your fingers out of Whitney. He whined at the sudden emptiness and clenched around nothing.

       “What did I say, Whitney? You’ll get something better soon.” You used any remaining liquid on your fingers to slick up your own dick, before lining your tip up. You tilted his hips up a bit for better access and pushed the tip in.

       Whitney keened. You groaned, saying,“Fuck, you’re still tight. Relax for me, okay? Don’t want this to hurt.” He listened to you, relaxing his muscles a bit. Although he was still a little tense, Whitney was loose enough that you could push in deeper.

       You grabbed onto his hips, tightly enough to bruise, as you finally bottomed out, causing both Whitney and yourself to moan. The blonde’s breathing was labored, and sweat was beading on his brow. You filled him up so well. He clutched the bear tightly to his chest in an attempt to ground himself. “God, you feel so good Whit. So pretty for me. I’m gonna move now, okay?” 

       Whitney nodded in response, already struggling to form words. He gasped as you began to pull out of him and thrusted right back in. You began with a slow pace, much to Whitney’s disappointment.

       As you continued at that slow pace, Whitney’s desperation brought him to tears. He felt so close to cumming, yet so far. “Please…” he sobbed, finally breaking completely down,“Need more…” He held on tightly to the teddy bear, staining it with his tears.

       Seeing Whitney cry only led to more arousal on your part. “Fuck, Whit, you look so good, taking me so well. I’ve got you.” He whined at your praise. 

       You started to pound into him faster, finally doing what Whitney wanted you to. When you began to thrust into his prostate head on, he practically screamed and came without warning. His neediness surely contributed to his quick orgasm too. You groaned at the feeling of him clenching around you. The white liquid coated his stomach, some of it (unfortunately) getting on the bear. 

       However, when you went even faster—fueled by the lust seeing him cry brought you—Whitney started wailing more. One of his hands still held the teddy bear for comfort, whilst the other dug into the skin of your neck.

       Your extreme pace has Whitney seeing stars. His dick started leaking again when he wasn’t even fully recovered from his last orgasm. “T-too much!” he cried out in overstimulation, tears still slipping from his eyes. 

       “Hm, baby? Do you want me to stop?” You slowed down, sounding concerned. Fuck, you cared so much, it only made him want to cry more.

       “N-no, please, keep going…”

       “Mk, you’ve done so good so far. Just let me know if it gets to be too much.” You resumed your fast pace, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room, although you made sure to go a little bit slower now. 

       Whitney’s face was completely flushed with crystalline tears dripping down. Your praise only increased the rush of blood throughout his body. He was panting and sweating and he couldn’t speak beyond small phrases or words. 

       Your own hips began to stutter, and you could feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen. “Fuck, Whit, I’m gonna cum.” 

       Whitney hardly processed your groaned words, too lost in his own head. As soon as he felt the warmth of your cum fill him up, he moaned something along the lines of ‘cumming!’ and came for the second time that night. He still held on tightly to the bear.

       You pulled out, much to Whitney’s disappointment. He whined at the sudden emptiness he felt.

       “Hey, I’ve got you. I’m gonna do one more thing and then we can take a bath, okay? Are you alright with that?” 

       Seeing him nod, you lowered your body closer to the mattress, aligning your face with his ass. You pushed his legs up to his and licked a stripe over his hole. You could taste your own salty cum leaking from him.

       Whitney moaned at the feeling of your tongue. Sure, you had eaten him out before, but this was different. He was already really sensitive.

       Your tongue dipped inside Whit, licking up the cum dripping out of him. He whined as your nails dug into his upper thighs, and you continued eating him out like a man starved. You’ve managed to make him hard again with merely a few deep strokes of your tongue. 

       You pressed your own dick against the mattress in an attempt to get yourself off whilst your tongue repeatedly fucked into him. Your hands moved, one now kneading his ass whilst you used the other to get yourself off. 

       Whitney struggled to form a coherent thought. The pleasure you gave him only led to further loss of any sense he might have. All he could was moan and sob your name.

       It didn’t take long for Whitney to orgasm a third time, too fucked out to warn you. Cum spurted from his spent dick, as you licked into him deeply one last time. 

       You pulled off of the blonde and jerked yourself off. After cumming on your hand, you brought it to his mouth for him to clean, which he did obediently.

       “You did so good, baby,” you said, then pressed a chaste kiss to his bruised lips. “Can I clean you now?”

       Once you had Whitney’s nodded approval, you got off the bed and went into his bathroom. You came back with a wet towel, which you used to clean his body.

       You used the rag to wipe down the blonde’s face, which was stained with tears in cum. You cleaned off the parts of the bear that had bits of cum on it. You then cleaned the rest: the lower half of his torso, his thighs, and inside of him.

       Once you finished cleaning him, you cleaned yourself. Whitney watched through glazed eyes as you re-entered the bathroom. You came back and crawled in bed beside him, pulling the covers over you both. You’d decided you’d wait until tomorrow to clean the bedsheets, instead opting to relax with your boyfriend.

       The sun had long set by now, the room only illuminated by serene moonlight. The brisk night breeze floated in through the open window, only blocked by a screen. Your arms were wrapped around Whitney’s waist. He gently dozed against you, small snores escaping him. Whitney could surely be rough and arrogant, but at times like these, he was just as soft as the teddy bear he was still holding.

[capri-ramblings]

It is a Concept but;

Leona is a distant cousin, so much so you like to joke you're barely even related any more at this point.

"If I were to have cubs of my own, I bet they wouldn't even make it in the family scripture." Your laugh is loud and clear and without a hint of wariness as Leona frowns and sends an annoyed look your way from where he is sprawled on the raised platform of the King's—His brother's—waiting lounge.

"Ha? What was that? Couldn't really hear yer from all the way here."

"I said you look as majestic as ever,cousin. Almost like a King yourself."

The sneer you sent him is coy and confident. Despite your lower disposition in the family, as Leona would like to say, your stride has never once wavered and the way you carried yourself mirrored the striking white fur of your ears and tails. White lions were a rarity amongst your people, and you took great pride in that.

"Watch it,cotton ball." His canines are showing, ears twitching in irritation. The nickname is one from your childhood and it was made right on your first day of meeting Leona and his brother. The elders took your birth as a good omen and decided to let you grow up alongside the two princes as a symbol of good luck.

A younger, more expressive, Leona had padded up to you and immediately went; "She's like a cotton ball!" And laughed when you stared at him. He had been told off by his mother but then his older brother had agreed and said it would be a good nickname for you, and it's been there for years.

You found it amusing. You enjoyed the company of your cousins and since you spent more time with him, Leona was considered your closest companion. What most people overlooked easily as his mean spirited nature and so called laziness, you saw a highly capable hunter and leader.

Though he may believe you use the word 'King' as a taunt, you know you're genuine with it.

"Anyways, cousin," you ignore the glower he sent your way as you move closer to him and plopped down onto the amassed cushions near the platform he was on.

"Where's that hyena you keep around?"

The question makes him raise his brows.

"Ruggie?"

You nod your head. Lips set in a sly grin as your tail sways from one side to the other.

"What's that gotta do with you?" He asked in a dry, uninterested drawl.

"Well," You're beaming when you say this, the white of your fur practically bristling with excitement. "You won't mind if I borrow him for the day, won't you?"

Leona looks taken aback for a brief second before he lets out a barking sort of laugh.

"I knew it. You have a thing for him don't you?"

You don't deny this, but still, you purse your lips and petulantly sunk into the pillows.

"If you knew then why don't you bring him over more often? You're such a terrible wing man, cousin."

"What are you an idiot? What made yer think I was ever your wing man?"

"Yap,yap, yap. You're such a bore, cousin. It's the least you can do after I spent my years being your so-called token of luck."

Leona's growl is evident even in the way his nose scrunches and his green gaze darkens at your words. Most people would have found this a very dangerous predicament to be in, but you knew you'd be able to take him on easily if he decided to attack, which of course,he wouldn't do in the first place.

"No need to be so angry, you know I enjoyed my childhood. Being seen as some sort of good luck totem only to become a menace when I'm older is my greatest satisfaction in life,after all. And it's really all thanks to you."

Leona holds his glare a while longer before he clicks his tongue and tilts his head.

"What about him gets you kneading your paws anyways?" He asked and despite the gruffness, you sense the earnest curiosity.

"Hm,well, he's very appetizing to look at."

"Ha? We talkin' bout the same hyena here? The most meaty part he has is probably his thick head." Leona's canines are glistening again, the scrunched up lines on his nose as he looks down at you making you laugh and roll on your back as you flash him a sight of your sharp fangs.

"His tail isn't so bad."

"That's mostly fur, boar brain." His eyes narrow when he says this and you can tell he's searching for something to read from you. A trick or a lie. He doesn't trust you with his friend. You know that much already.

Leona could go on and on about not caring for the people under him, but it's all simply an act. If he didn't care he was probably not even Leona in the first place. Leona always cared. It's why he was so angry most of the time.

"If you keep looking at me like that, you're gonna make me feel like some kind of predator." You're pouting. Ears folded down and tail curling around your body but the glint in your eyes is of excitement.

You like him. You really do.

It's the nimble way he moves and his attentive eyes. The quick witted intelligence he has is also something you don't often see in other hyenas you've met and you wonder if conversations with him would be just as interesting as you always imagined it would be.

You grew up in the presence of Kings. Made to be a sentimental decorum for their well-being, and though you've never despised it, it had held you back from many things in your own life. It was a privileged life but also a rigid one.

When you first met Ruggie, there was barely any talk. He had been occupied with Leona but you found yourself drawn to his character and every little detail of his mannerisms. You simply couldn't look away, nor did you want to, really.

"Idiot." Comes Leona's voice as he snaps you back to the present moment. Your eyes are wide and wandering—So lost in the thought of the hyena boy, you almost forgot your cousin.

"Last time I checked, you are a predator."

And maybe that's why. Maybe that explains the rush of adrenaline running circuits in you while you search for him. Maybe it was pure instincts—One you've been deprived of for your whole life.

"I mean, he looks like he'd out run me fast enough,right?"

With those lithe muscles and lightweight frame, and the fact he's used to extreme living conditions would work well in his favour...A bit malnourished, true, but I bet his bones are stronger since he has depended on them more...sturdier despite his size. A treat to gnaw on—

"Tsk. I thought so." Leona has a dark, knowing look to him now as he sends you a sneering smile. There is no actual hostility for you were not an actual enemy to him, but you can feel the warning in his words as they leave his mouth.

"You're no better than a starving hyena yourself."

You sit there and stare up at him—And then, you smile back, canines revealed in a sign of beastly amusement.

No. You weren't. In fact, you were probably worst.

[bumbled-bees]

The Truth About Me

So. It’s time I was honest about something. For those who didn’t already know or hadn’t put it together—I’m Hato. Yes, that Hato. The one from Lily’s old Discord server. The one she used to hold up as a loyal fan, depending on the day. The one she turned on, of course, as she inevitably does to anyone who shows too much independence.

I left Lily’s circle a long while ago. And no, it wasn’t some big dramatic fallout. It wasn’t a blow-up or an argument or anything juicy. It was a slow realization. A pattern I couldn’t ignore anymore. A hundred little moments that didn’t sit right until they couldn’t be waved away. And once I saw it—I mean really saw it—I couldn’t unsee it. The cruelty. The hypocrisy. The manipulation. The double standards. The blatant, often weaponized misuse of terms like “boundaries” or “accountability” to shut down even the mildest criticism. The refusal to ever take the high road.

That’s why I started this blog.

People always ask me how I know so much about how Lily operates. Why I can predict her moves before she makes them. Why I notice the little rhetorical tricks, the repeated behaviors, the same stories with different coats of paint. It’s because I was there. I watched it happen. I played the game, until I couldn’t anymore.

I know how Lily keeps people close—love bombs them, flatters them, makes them feel like they’re in on something special. I also know how quickly she turns when you stop echoing her word-for-word. I’ve seen how she encourages people not to ask questions. How she reframes genuine concern as betrayal. How she always paints herself as the victim, even when she’s the one who hurt people. Even when she’s done it over and over again.

This blog wasn’t made for revenge. It wasn’t made to “take her down.” I’m not here to speculate about her personal life or start drama. I’m here because I’ve seen firsthand how easy it is to get pulled in, how subtle the pressure can be, and how hard it is to explain to people on the outside why you stayed as long as you did. And I wanted to make something that breaks that down. Piece by piece.

I’ve had people send asks thanking me because they were starting to feel the same discomfort and couldn’t put it into words until they read something here. That’s why I do it. Because I know the playbook. Because I recognize the cycles. And because, frankly, no one else was documenting it this way.

So yeah. That’s the truth. I’m Hato. I used to be close to Lily. Now I’m just someone who’s choosing honesty over silence. And I’m not going anywhere.

[pazziiiiiiii]

Hey guys, this is more of a filler chapter to describe what changed after she admitted what her dad told her. Thanks for the feedback so please keep sending it through and ideas for the next part pleaseee!! Next one coming very soon if you guys give me more ideas…

Part 4

It wasn’t like they talked about it.

What Paige had said that night at the court—about her dad, about Azzi—it wasn’t brought up again. Not even in passing. It settled into the space between them like dust in sunlight. Quiet. Unspoken. Still.

And if Paige had hoped telling Azzi would change something, maybe she didn’t realize how much of her didn’t actually want it to. She couldn’t afford it. Couldn’t even let herself want to want it.

She still hadn’t gone back to the guest room, though.

Her bag had stayed in Azzi’s room. Her clothes in the closet. Her shoes lined up by the door. The bed they shared—two pillows, one blanket, space between them that felt like a line she dared not cross.

But even in Azzi’s room, Paige felt far away.

She’d smile at the right times. Laugh, sometimes. She’d go through the motions. Lay there at night, stare at the ceiling, and listen to Azzi breathe like she was measuring her own steadiness against it.

But she wasn’t there. Not really.

Azzi noticed.

Paige could tell by the way Azzi would glance at her during long silences. Or how she’d watch her with a question that never made it past her lips. She’d try to draw her in with little things—“Wanna make pancakes?” or “Wanna shoot around later?”—but Paige always found ways to say yes and still hold herself back.

Azzi didn’t press. Not in the way she could’ve. Not in the way Paige might’ve wanted her to.

Instead, she started talking around it.

“Do you ever feel like… people just expect you to always be okay?” Azzi asked one night, their room lit by the faint blue of her laptop screen. “Like, if you’re not okay, it’s like… disappointing or something.”

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. “Yeah.”

Azzi waited.

But Paige didn’t add anything.

And when she finally glanced over, Azzi had turned back to her screen, earbuds in, lips pressed tight in that way she always did when she was pretending something didn’t sting.

⸻

A few weeks passed.

Long, slow days. Azzi’s family kept their bubble tight—home, court, backyard, repeat. Paige got used to it. Used to the rhythm. The quiet hum of Katie moving through the house, the smell of fresh coffee in the mornings, the way Azzi’s younger siblings knocked before barging in anyway.

It all felt normal.

Too normal.

Like she had almost convinced herself everything was fine.

Because on the outside, it kind of was.

She and Azzi were still best friends. They still did TikToks. Still played HORSE. Still stole food from each other’s plates at lunch. Still sat shoulder to shoulder during dumb Netflix movies, Paige tucking her knees into her chest like she was cold when she just didn’t know where to put her body.

But it was there. In the pauses. In the things they didn’t say.

In the way Paige flinched when their hands brushed and Azzi didn’t react at all.

⸻

The first time Paige saw the text, she froze.

Devon 🙋🏾‍♂️:

“Azzi I know your gonna be cute for me”

“pick u up at 7”

She hadn’t meant to see it. She was looking for the charger they always passed back and forth, and Azzi’s phone had lit up beside her.

Paige didn’t ask. Azzi didn’t offer.

But a few hours later, she came downstairs in jeans that actually fit and a hoodie Paige didn’t recognize. Her curls were a little more defined than usual, lips glossy.

“Where you going?” Paige asked, too casually.

Azzi glanced up from tying her shoes. “Just out for a bit.”

“Out?”

“Dinner.”

“With who?”

Azzi looked at her, and something flickered in her eyes before she shrugged. “Just a friend.”

“Right.” Paige nodded once. “Cool.”

She turned and walked away before she could give anything else away.

⸻

The clock on Paige’s phone glowed 8:47 when she went back into Azzi’s room. She lay on her side of the bed, alone, fully dressed, blanket untouched. The silence felt louder than anything.

She stared at the ceiling. Tried not to imagine who Azzi was with, what she was saying, what it looked like when she laughed at his jokes.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

And somewhere beneath it all, shame started to bloom like rot.

Of course Azzi was out with a guy. Of course she’d say yes when someone like him asked. Why wouldn’t she?

She was normal.

And Paige?

Paige was a mess. A secret. Something shameful even to herself.

She pressed her palms into her eyes until the pressure made her see stars. It wasn’t even about the boy. Not really.

It was about knowing that Azzi didn’t see her that way.

And worse—about knowing that it was wrong to want her to.

She thought about her dad. The way his face had twisted when he yelled. The disgust in his voice. Why don’t you just go live with her and ask her to be your girlfriend…

Like just thinking about it was enough to be condemned.

She curled in on herself.

Maybe he was right.

⸻

Azzi didn’t talk about the dinner when she got back. Paige pretended to be asleep, back turned, breath even. She felt the bed dip when Azzi got in, heard the rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of her sigh.

She wanted to turn around. Ask. Was he nice? Did you have fun? Do you like him?

But she didn’t.

Because she didn’t want the answers.

⸻

They stayed like that for days.

Azzi never brought the boy up. Paige never asked.

But she noticed the subtle shifts—how Azzi smiled at her phone more. How she wore the same hoodie again a few days later. How she didn’t stay as close during movie nights anymore.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But it felt like everything.

⸻

They were out on the court one afternoon, just shooting around. Azzi looked lighter than she had in days, her laugh bright as she nailed three in a row from the corner.

“You’re off today,” she teased, passing the ball back.

Paige forced a smile. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You’ve been tired for a while.”

Paige caught the ball. Let it sit in her hands.

“I’m fine.”

Azzi watched her. “You always say that.”

Paige didn’t look up. “Because it’s true.”

“It’s not.”

Paige took a shot. Missed. The ball bounced long and she jogged to retrieve it.

When she came back, Azzi was sitting on the edge of the court, arms around her knees, watching the sky.

“Do you want me to stop asking?” Azzi said quietly.

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Because I will. If you want me to.”

Paige sat down next to her, the concrete warm against her thighs.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said finally.

Azzi turned her head slightly. “Then what do you want?”

The question sat heavy in the air.

Paige stared at the court. “I don’t know.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t scoot closer. She just nodded like she understood and let the silence settle again.

Paige wanted to thank her.

And scream.

And cry.

She did none of those things.

⸻

The next night, Katie made pasta. The house smelled like garlic and roasted tomatoes. Azzi was on FaceTime in the other room, laughing about something, her voice soft and fond. Paige stirred the sauce even though it was already done.

She didn’t ask who was on the other end of the call.

She didn’t want to know.

That night, Paige turned away from Azzi in bed again.

Azzi didn’t move closer.

⸻

The thing was… they still were best friends. That hadn’t changed. Not on the surface.

But every laugh felt a little shorter now. Every touch a little less certain. Every moment just a little too carefully navigated.

Paige felt like she was walking on a tightrope above something she couldn’t name. And every time she thought about Azzi—her laugh, her eyes, her kindness—something twisted deep in her gut.

It wasn’t just the fear.

It was the shame.

The knowledge that what she felt might ruin everything.

That maybe it already had.

⸻

On the second Friday of the month, they went for a walk. Just the two of them. No phones. No plan. Just wind and sky and space.

Azzi talked about her brothers. About how they were driving her insane. About how she missed AAU. About the show she started watching without Paige.

Paige listened. Nodded. Laughed at the right times.

But she felt like she was watching it all happen through a window she couldn’t open.

⸻

That night, Azzi finally said it.

Not everything. Just enough to make Paige freeze.

“You haven’t hugged me in weeks.”

They were sitting on the floor folding laundry, socks and shirts in scattered piles around them.

Paige looked up, startled.

Azzi wasn’t mad. Her voice was soft. But her eyes were serious.

“I didn’t notice,” Paige lied.

“I think you did.”

Silence stretched again.

“I just…” Paige started, then stopped. “I’ve just been in my head a lot.”

Azzi nodded slowly.

“I don’t want to push you,” she said. “But it’s weird, not having you with me. Even when you’re right here.”

Paige folded a shirt with shaking hands.

“I know, I’m trying really hard,” she whispered.

“I know. But you have to let me in at some point.”

Paige only nodded.

They finished folding the laundry without another word.

⸻

That night, when they got in bed, Paige lay stiff as ever. But this time, she said something, eyes locked on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry Azzi, I really am,” she said, voice quiet.

Her throat burned.

“I know P. I know. I’m always gonna be here. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Paige didn’t sleep for hours that night. Too caught up in her own thoughts. Like she had been for the past weeks.

[pearlywritings]

Blade + the erhu, please and thank you!

(Miss pearly, is that another reference to the phantom of the opera? Just asking)

Crazy but this prompt was asked for Blade twice! And once again - yep, that's the reference! (hopefully you all are not fed up with me yet--) On side note - it's been always a challenge to write for this man and every single time I pray that I didn't fuck up his character,,,,,,,

Always there

pairing: Blade x reader

prompt: "I will wait for you"

word count: 812 words

~ The Music of the Night event ~

The ever-sullen Stellaron Hunter has always had a hard time understanding your reasons to stay by his side. It isn't obnoxious clinging or following him wherever he goes, or even intentional lingering in the shadows nearby like you are some kind of a stalker.

No, it is none of that. You are just… there.

Obviously you are always there - working for Elio at the base as the Hunter’s personal chef quite literally predestines it. Blade doesn't remember the details, but it had probably something to do with Kafka and her complaints about Silver Wolf’s eating routine. And his. And the fact you poisoned someone to the point of royally pissing the IPC, which put “Wanted” posters across the universe with your face on them and landed you in the care of Destiny's Slave.

What he means is…you are strangely there for him.

You notice the dishes he takes liking in (despite him dodging all your questions) and cook him those when you think he looks especially gloomy. Every time he departs on a mission, somehow you manage to send him off with a packed meal - either you slip it into his luggage, or pass it on through his assigned partner or simply distract with conversation and thrust the container right into his hands. Lately, as you two got closer, you also started adding self-made sedatives and sleeping medicine to his meals. Did he try to kill you for that? No, but he did suggest adding poison next time.

Which you never did.

Why did his sleep get better?

Of course, you’ve grown to be caring towards every member of the crew - making Kafka her favorites whenever she had a shitty day, gently but sternly forcing Silver Wolf to eat properly, coming up with ways to feed Firefly delicious food too and letting her help in the kitchen, and managing to fulfil wild requests Elio sometimes has.

But Blade feels like he is special to you. Even if it took him half a year to admit it to himself.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” you once told him, as you were stirring the pot and Blade came to the kitchen to hide from the girls who, led by Kafka, wanted to mess with him. Too focused on wrapping clean bandages around the fingers of his left hand, the man didn’t let the thought sink at first, but once he did, he said nothing.

Something told him these were not the words you said to everyone.

Why did they bring him an allusive sense of peace?

Later on he started spending time with you - in training. Being a chef and knowing your way with the knife is good, but, as you reasonably noted, you are a part of the Stellaron Hunters now. It’ll never hurt to learn to defend yourself. 

Blade has never been known to be gentle. No matter if you are a sword master or a newbie - he’d go hard on you anyway, putting you through a hell of a routine. He was honestly thinking you would’ve soon realized that such harsh treatment wasn’t for you and turned to one of the female members. However, every day he’s at the base, you come. You whine and huff from exhaustion, but don’t complain. You listen carefully to his instructions whenever he stops the fight to give them (and he does so rarely, preferring the learning through the ‘life or death’ combat). You lie on the floor of the training area every single time the training ends, look up at him holding his sword and boring his red-hot coals of the eyes into you, and promise with a shaky smile, that ‘ten more minutes, a shower, and I’ll go make us an after-workout snack’.

Usually it’s more than ten minutes. Occasionally he has to carry your body to the showers, and you go limp on his shoulder on purpose. He quite often waits for you after he’s done with his own clean up. He rarely misses your cooking afterwards.

When did he start standing close to you as you cook, looming over you, staring at your hands over your shoulder?

He also doesn’t know how you two ended up sharing a living space, a bed even. Once, twice, a week, a month… At some point he just accepted it as a part of his life now. After all, you are not making it worse.

He is sane enough to be honest with himself - it got a little bit better.

You kiss his scars and run your fingers through his hair to calm him.

He lets you.

You are not clingy though.

He turned out to be one.

“I want you to see me as the place where you can always return to.”

He…bitterly laughs, but doesn’t say anything against.

“I will be waiting for you.”

…

He chooses to believe you.

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

very sorry, I accidentally requested when it wasn’t open, but since it is now I know you might have deleted my ask so I will say it again

if your comfortable doing so, could we have like a twisted Razzle and Dazzle seeing twisted reader again (angst) or if your not comfortable writing for RnD, same concept but with twisted Astro?

Twisted Razzle & Dazzle Seeing Twisted Reader Again!

Hey, dear anon! No worries, I'm not mad or anything! I won't delete requests anymore unless I deny them. If your request is at the bottom of my pinned post, it means I'll get to work on it eventually and it's accepted!

Aughh, I love writing for twisteds!! And angst too? Mhmm!! Count me in! I like this scenario a lot! I'm becoming more and more comfortable writing angst, hehehe! Here you go, dear anon! Thank you for requesting! <3

-Anna

-It hurt them to separate their heads so they would stick together as they sit on the floor, not wanting to open their eyes or wanting to move, having tied themselves down like that. They would close their eyes and take deep shaky breaths as they rocked back and forth. It was enough to calm them down, trying to focus on other things rather than the pain the ichor was giving them. They both lost half of their faces so they stuck together their heads for each other, so that they feel at least a bit normal for once.. like they haven't lost anything.

-They would get aggressive when a twisted made noise or run in the circle they have created without knowing themselves, as if wanting others to stay away from their safe space. The anger from wanting others to stay out of their comfort zone was strong enough that they send sharp red vines to push them out of there or injure them SO good that it made them run away, teaching them a lesson and not disturb them ever. Silence calms them down, even letting them close their eyes and doze off so they won't feel the pain as much.

-Oh, but when YOU stepped into the circle a bit too loud on accident, their eyes opened immediately and they got up, shaking a lot as they shot a vine towards the direction of your footstep with pure anger but they stopped it immediately once they saw who it was... It was you, but as a twisted. Their eyes observed your twisted form as the vine retreated to the ground slowly, their anger was replaced with something else. They made their hands a tight fist as they felt miserable.

-All they could do was stare at you with the usual intense red eyes of theirs, they felt ichor run down their cheeks as they started crying. Razzle's smile becoming a frown and Dazzle opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but nothing came out, the ichor had destroyed them completely, their thoughts, their bodies as they felt negative emotions like there was no tomorrow. They watched as you took steps back slowly, understanding that this specific zone will hurt you more alongside the ichor to pass safely.

-Sometimes you needed to pass through, so you tried to be quiet, seeing as dead silent made them calm down. While the ichor has destroyed your thought process a lot, at least you could understand somewhat some things such as this. It seemed to work and sometimes you accidentally stepped a bit too loud during the end and made them stand up as they shook, looking over at you silently, observing your every single movement. Sometimes you stayed and they sat down again, gripping their shirt tightly as they tried taking deep breaths as they split their heads apart.

-Sometimes you left without looking back, only caring to pass through and not disturb them and they would just watch as you got out of their sight and they shook, oh they shook alright as some ichor tears fell out. Small glimpses of memories of you hanging out with them would come into their minds and they might get even more aggressive as they try gripping the spot that hurt the most on their heads, shaking and grunting, trying to make it stop. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts and they don't want to deal with it, they want silence.

-It would happen a lot when they kept seeing you more and more, they had a feeling that you were someone very important to them but then pain followed and they didn't know what to do, often breaking down crying as they hoped it would pass fast. They knew you were the cause but something in them didn't want to hurt you at all and they didn't know why at all. It made them frustrated as tears would blur their vision, what was with you..?! They didn't know!!

-But one time, you happened to pass by when they were super frustrated. They thought it was another twisted on this floor and shot vines in your direction as they had their eyes closed, gripping their heads from all the pain but their eyes became open immediately when they heard your cries and looked in your direction, big frowns in both faces as ichor fell on the floor from you. You had fallen down as your leg was injured and it hurt a lot, you cried as it hurt and they froze completely after they realized fully what they had done.

-They could only watch as you got up and made a run for it and that's when they realized that they were crying again. They tried to yell for you as their hands reached out and they walked towards your direction but they couldn't move that far, being tied down on the floor and all. They weeped as their legs gave out, hiding their faces in shame from hurting you. They could always try to untie themselves but it was so hard when they felt so weak after all this time.

-So they could only stay there, next to the small pile of ichor from YOU. They can always hug their knees again as they rocked back and forth, taking deep breaths, they can always sit in an opposite direction so they can't see it but the fact that it's right there on the floor will never leave their poor minds. They never shot another vines to anyone else ever again, they were shaking more and were more paranoid, not wanting to hurt anything and anyone. They just want to be alone, so they don't hurt you and to minimize the pain as much as possible. They didn't know if you will ever get close to them ever again as they only stared at the floor, trying to calm down for minutes, hours, days, you name it.

Thank you for reading! <3

[prettydaisygirl]

doctor!James Potter x anxious!reader who comes in for an appointment ✿ 607 words

cw: James is a dermatologist, I don't think I wrote any identifying traits for reader, reader is very anxious, James is a flirt, medical talk

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You try to calm your shaking hands, breathing slowly through your nose. The room is plain, nothing exciting to look at or keep your attention. The exam table is cold below your legs.

The nurse who brought you back hadn’t made things any better. Questions about your medical and surgical history, allergies, medications. No small talk. You should’ve brought someone for moral support, but you didn’t want to seem like you couldn’t do this alone. You regret thinking that now.

A loud knock sounds from the door and you jump, heart leaping into your throat. The door cracks open, and a handsome man pokes his head in. 

“Hello, are you ready?” He asks kindly, and you nod, slow and nervous. He steps inside, tall and broad and taking up most of the space in the tiny exam room. He radiates confidence and charm, and his smile adds butterflies to the nerves already churning in your gut. 

“I’m James.” The doctor greets you, holding out a hand for you to shake. Yours trembles as you take it. 

“Shouldn’t I… call you Dr. Potter?” You ask, your voice as shaky as your hands and probably three octaves higher than normal. 

A charming grin takes over his handsome features. “Technically, yes.” He lets out a chuckle and your heart skips a beat. “But please, Dr. Potter was my father. Call me James.”

You think maybe he’s just trying to make you feel better when he smiles at you like that, but you feel your cheeks warming. 

“Well, seems as though you have a spot today that you’re worried about?” He asks, pulling a small light out of his coat pocket, holding it in his hand. 

“Oh, uh…” You swallow thickly, panic and fear running through you again. “Yes, it… it just came up and I was worried because it looks weird…”

He smiles softly, nodding and looking into your eyes so you know he’s listening intently. “Well,” he says, “let’s see it, then.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat for a different reason this time. You bend down to reach for the bottom of your pant leg. You lift it up, pointing out the spot that recently appeared. 

James nods, crouching down, and uses the small light in his hand to take a closer look at it. His hand rests on your leg, warm and big and bringing you more comfort than it should.

“Well, good news,” James tells you as he pulls away, smiling up at you like an angel in round glasses. “It’s fine.”

“It is?” You ask, relief evident in your voice as your whole body relaxes a bit. His thumb brushes over the spot, a soothing, gentle motion. 

“It is.” He repeats, “Benign, nothing to worry about. It won’t hurt you.”

Your whole body fully sags with relief this time, the tension and worry leaving your muscles. “Thank you,” You tell him, gratitude obvious in your expression. You can’t help but smile softly at him.

James stands, patting your shoulder and his smile lights up the room once more. You wonder why he bothered becoming a doctor when he looks like that, but you’re grateful he did. 

“If it makes you feel better,” He offers lowly, hand dropping back down to his side, “You can come see me again next year just to make sure.”

Your heart soars, even though he probably says that to all his patients. “Thank you, Dr. Potter.” 

He shoots you a look.

“Sorry,” You quickly correct, “James.” 

He smiles. “You’re welcome.” He says, and then he sends you a wink, hand on the door handle, “I’ll see you next year.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[bellysoupset]

From the prompts

"you don't look so good" + "why didn't you tell me sooner?" for Max pretty please

- 💜

"Pumpkin pie?" Vince pushed his tupperware across the table in the teacher's lounge, continuing to mark his papers and jolt down notes, not sparing Max a glance.

The blonde was sitting in front of him and they were alone in the room, since all the other teachers were having lunch in the cafeteria or had just left already. It was a quiet Tuesday.

"No, thanks-"

"Oh, c'mon, I baked it myself," Vin pouted, looking up and opening a pleased smile as Max immediately folded like wet newspaper. So much for the stubborn prick he had met a year before.

"Well, if you baked it yourself..." the blonde said, sighing and grabbing one of the pre-cut slices, daintily chipping away and causing Vince's eyebrows to jump up at the sudden insurgence of manners he had never seen before.

"Get a real bite," he rolled his eyes, then grabbed a slice himself, dropping his pen away and leaning back on his chair so they could eat together. Max took a bigger bite, obeying, and Vin let out an appreciative noise, before snorting at his own antics. Damn, he was turning into his mother.

"What?" Max scowled, probably assuming Vince was laughing at him.

"Nothing, its nothing," Vince grinned, finishing up his slice in two more bites and stretching on his chair, leaning forward so his fingertips brushed the tip of his boots, "suit yourself to the pie, Max, I don't have any space in my fridge, I'm not taking it back."

"Uh-hum," Max mumbled, still chipping away his slice like he was worried it was poisoned or tasted like soap. Vince snorted at the thought, then fished out his phone to check his messages.

There were several texts from Wendy. She was clearing out her closet so he'd have any space to put his own clothes and was sending him a million outfit pics so he could see what she was gonna put up for donation.

Suddenly there was a burp to his left and Vince raised his eyes, shutting down his phone as he saw Max's pale face. The guy was white as rice, but he generally was pretty tan. Now he was the color of spoiled milk and had a pinched expression that betrayed how lousy he was feeling...

"Uh... You don't look so good..." Vince frowned, only for Max to gag and all but launch himself across the room, so he could grab the little paper waste basket sitting near the teacher's couch and heave loudly.

Vince jumped to his feet, both concerned and simply confused. Max had looked just fine not even ten minutes before... It couldn't possibly be the pie, food poisoning didn't hit that fast, besides Vin had been eating it all day and he was fine-

He crouched down, next to the other man on his knees on the ground, back arching with several heaves and guttural burps. Vin patted his back, "okay, get it up... Lunch was too heavy?" and again, there was no way, considering he had just watched Max eat a bowl of rice and salad, nothing else.

The blonde cleared his throat, gasping for air and spitting a glob inside the bin, then sat back on his heel, wiping his mouth with his hand and glaring at Vince, "Pumpkin pie makes me sick."

Vince's mouth hung open, "I'm sorry, come again?" he asked, dumbfounded, "you're allergic and you-"

"No," Max shook his head, then tilted to the side so he could spit the accumulating saliva on the bin once more, planting the basket on the ground and pushing it away with a disgusted frown, "I ate like ten of them last Thanksgiving. I can't stomach it now, just the smell makes me nauseous."

"Why didn't you tell mE SOONER?!" Vince exclaimed, wanting to rattle him like a toy, "you're ridiculous! Max, what the fuck-"

"You puppy eyed me!" Max exclaimed, blushing all the way to his ears, "you threw me those sad cow eyes of yours!"

"My sad cow- Oh, shut up, you poisoned yourself because I pouted at you!? Daniels, get a grip of yourself!"

[official-pjo-adaptaion-blog]

Hi and welcome!

This is the oficial blog for updates and info on our brand new fan project!

Q&A:

What is the pjo animated fan made adaptation?: this is a book a accurate animated adaptation of Percy Jackson!

When can we expect release?: we have no set date yet and are still in early stages of planning so please be patient!

How can I help?: to apply to help out just send in an ask! We’re small right now so chances are you’ll be excepted!

What can I do?: right now we’re looking for animators, storyboard artists, voice actors, screenwriters, and just people willing to spread the word!

How can I apply to be a va?: send in an ask with your name (doesn’t have to be your actual name just what you want to be called), age, the character(s) you want, a recording of you reading a line from said character (please note that if you don’t get the part you want you can still be cast as someone else or multiple characters),and if you are a minor please make sure you and your legal guardian is ok with this or if asking puts you at risk do not reveal any personal information!

How can I apply to be an animator or storyboard artist?: send in an ask with your name (or what you want to be called) a picture of your art (no ai art allowed), and same as last time if you are a minor do not leak any personal information!

How can I apply to help with writing?: again send in an ask with your name and a bit of your work (doesn’t have to be perfect we’re getting most our material from the books) and once more if you are a minor do not share your personal information!

Will I or anyone involved be paid?: this is a labor of love and everyone working on it is doing it voluntarily and no one will be paid with anything other than a book accurate adaptation of the book series we all love made by people who actually care!

If you want to va a list of characters we’re looking for is under the cut!

LIST OF CHARACTERS NEEDED!

Percy Jackson(needed)

Annabeth Chase (cast)

Grover Underwood (needed)

Luke Castilian (Needed)

Chiron/ Mr Brunner (Needed)

Mr D (needed)

Sally Jackson (Needed)

smelly Gabe (needed)

Zuse (needed)

Poseidon (needed)

hades (needed)

ares (needed)

Additional voices (needed)

thank you to everyone already helping out !

[bizarrelittlemew]

I just came out of the Rhys Darby gig in Newtown, Sydney (Australia). There was a lot of thrusting and dancing and he said “oh fuck me” at least twice and said cunt once. He got visibly red-faced and sweaty and was audibly panting at several points. He even thanked us for clapping at one stage and asked us to keep going so he could catch his breath. He also pretended to be his Roomba and called himself “daddy” and I wish I could’ve gotten you a sound bite.

Anyway mostly sending this ask because I thought of you throughout it all. “Ida would love this” I thought again and again and again as Rhys Darby did Rhys Darby things.

ANON OMG you have no idea how touched i am that you saw rhys doing things and thought of me?! 🥹🥹🥹 that all sounds unhinged ough and i'm so happy that you got to see him and i'm only saying this with a little bit of jealousy because i WILL be going to see one of his shows in london in june!! 🤸 i can't waitttttt for all this but also i now fear for my life and well-being. thank you so much for this anon it made my day 💗💗💗

[my-lunaberg]

Hello! I saw your post on asking ab ppl's opinions on the DSMP and had so many thoughts to share I actually went to my pc to write this, lol. Long ask incoming, sorry.

I started watching the DSMP in august of 2020, specifically right after the Techno vs. Dream duel. At this point in time, the Dream SMP tag had only like ten posts--not exaggerating, you would scroll and see the same few posts over and over again cause there was almost no fandom. I followed the series pretty much religiously all the way up to the prison break, where I then basically had to stop watching cause my life was falling apart (paying attention to streamers all day every day causes you to fail classes, who knew?)

So I guess I don't have a lot to say on the ending, other than it certainly was an ending. I think the crew did a good job with what they had, I liked the realization c!Tommy had towards c!Dream and what was once an innocent intention of server unity twisting into something else. I think using the nuke to blow everything up to start anew was a cop-out, but I also know (or at least feel like) the server itself was falling apart IRL and they had to bring it to a conclusion somehow. (Because of that, I knew the server wouldn't get a "season 2")

You mentioned how you liked it on a thematic level rather than emotional, and it really made me think about how my own interest manifested. I was certainly invested in these characters and their stories, but I only carried an emotional attachment to c!Tommy and c!Dream (and DreamXD, but only because I love deities in fiction).

I think, story-wise, the DSMP had many elements that hit hard, c!Tommy's abuse being one of them. During the prison arc, when c!Dream is being tortured constantly by c!Quackity, a large part of the fandom rooted for c!Q because c!Dream was an abuser and deserved the dehumanizing treatment. And boy do I have some opinions on that, lol. Because of the nature of the DSMP, I never thought of it as a teaching element, and your comment on that only being prevalent to children's media struck a chord--because, yeah, that makes sense. The target audience for the DSMP is a bit skewed, because it does take place in an all-ages video game, but the storyline and characters themselves would never get a G rating. I always considered the DSMP to be a bunch of people having fun exploring the different ways they can write a story/character, without any real end-game in mind. They did marvelous, too, in my opinion. I don't believe the DSMP was ever meant to be a literary marvel, or whatever the video-game equivalent is, so for a bunch of then-friends just throwing ideas at a wall and seeing what sticks with the fans, it did it's job.

People now, coming into the fandom for the first time, or looking in from the outside trying to analyze it, don't understand it, imo. It's not that the narrative can only be experienced at the time it was written, because no, you can watch and re-watch it thanks to VODS and recap channels. But so many people hear stories of it being a great time and a great story with great characters and then analyze it to put it on a pedestal only to see that its a piece of fiction with many flaws. Not understanding that the SMP wasn't created to be role-playing server, that never even crossed their minds. It was meant to be a place to have fun and explore a snapshot. That's not saying the cc's shouldn't have made the story in the first place, it's just highlighting how out of control the SMP got due to influencers' fame and fun writing. It was a product of its time because everyone was together, quarantined, exploring how far they could go in a virtual setting. Sorry, rambling a bit. I just think that a sensation like the DSMP can never be repeated on such a scale, and that feeling is why so many outsiders expect so much.

Hope this makes sense, haha. Sorry it's not juicy discourse, but thanks for listening anyway.

No its fine, thank you very much for telling me this!

I initially started watching I think right before the exile arc started but by the time I figured out how to best watch it and caught up with it, it had already been going for a few days, then I followed along with it for a while until I lost interest sometime after the big clingyduo v. Dream fight. Then in late 2022 I was at a local comic con and saw someone in a ghostbur cosplay and some people carrying around a big lmanberg flag and it just made me feel so nostalgic that I wanted to rewatch/finish it, and because I thought it would be fun I also made this sideblog to liveblog it. Im pretty sure dsmp was already over or at the very least getting close to the end by the time I did that, so it gave me a kind of distance that definitely affected my experience with the show.

Like, I think if I had kept up with it throughout (what i would consider to be) its decline and then had to witness that ending after all that, I would definitely feel more negatively about it, so I understand why it was upsetting for a lot of fans, but as it stands, I can mostly just remember it as an overall good piece of media that started stumbling towards the last quarter or so and then ended in a way thats fine, although not particularly satisfying on an emotional level. Like, Dream and Tommy's whole storyline was essentially about the cyclical nature of violence and I think ending the cycle is the best way to resolve that kind of story and in theory, having them make amends before they both die together sounds good to me, but idk, in practice I just didnt like it lol. I think its mainly because their attempts to make Dream seem more sympathetic were kinda too little-too late; Dream didnt have his own pov when most people did which automatically dehumanized him in the eyes of the audience, which was brilliant for the manipulative and unpredictable villian character that he was, but I feel like the CCs didnt really realize that that was the case and didnt feel the need to show stuff from his pov, when it was actually vital imo

You said that people coming into the fandom now come into it with these expectations and I think thats true, but I feel like people who have been following it since the rp properly started also tended to put it on a pedastal because of how genuinely impressively good it was in the beginning, and then when the finale was Like That, a lot of them were insanely disappointed. I also think thats where a lot of the discourse revolving around the ending sending a bad message comes from — a lot of people think of it as something very polished like an actual tv-show when thats simply not what it is or ever was. Its just people fucking around and having fun, and when people just fuck around, theyre not really thinking about "being responsible to their audience" or whatever. Take it from me as a writer lol, I have plans for ya-novels that touch on serious topics and with those I do try to be mindful of the fact that my audience is younger (although teenagers are obviously not children and already dont need to be taught via their media anymore imo), but when Im just writing a little short story I'll usually make it as fucked up as possible just because thats fun to me, yknow

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Greetings. It is I, Gabriel.

I have seen your... Art.

It is most impressive work.

Yet I cannot help but ponder. Why must you depict me in such a way?

Taking it up my bare assed loins?

I would never submit to such poor treatment. Unless?

[artuurle]

Oooo it’s me the scary ghoul and totally not anyone in particular ooo. You should totally draw that gr meeting cobi comic idea you mentioned in my- I mean in somebody’s notes because it would be awesome oooooooo [scary ghoul nosies]

OH NO!!! I wonder what kind of scary ghoul would send this ask! I must warn Flick about ghoulies being on grujaja posts!! /silly /lh

For context: in the tags I discussed about How since in my headcanon Grujaja was taken to the grove young, he was most likely dropped off in buzzhuzz or Milldread since those places explicitly discussed having schools. I ended up choosing to place him in Milldread.

Of course the main issue of this being Grujaja would rather curl up into a ball and die than be anywhere bright and loud and well..... you know how schools can be. The easiest thing to do would be to run and hide somewhere quiet- but that just made everything worse.

There's a reason why he refused to step foot into the town after the god seemed to have gotten angry- we only see him at the edge of the town on the way to hobbyhoo.

Bonus Capo having to drop Grujaja off because i make that fucking guy suffer lol: