#one shot quick write

[coryosbaby]

i need more felix shit from u 😣😣

—Jealous Girl !

Fandom: ‘Saltburn’

Pairing: Felix Catton x fem! Best friend! Reader (also minor mentions of: Oliver quick x fem! Reader)

Synopsis: Tension and jealousy finally come to a head after you see your best friend Felix fucking another girl.

Content warning . Drug & alcohol use, watching without permission? possessiveness, friends to lovers with slight angst, dark! Ish reader // degradation & praise, facefucking, pnv, size kink, choking, breeding, mean! dom! Felix

If you ever explain how your best friend usually treats you, it can only be summed up into one word: gentle.

He treats you like glass. A beautiful, priceless artifact that requires great care. He pays for everything you own— your dresses, handbags, shoes. Even where you live, the infamous Saltburn estate. Every time he speaks to you, it’s like he’s speaking to a pet— sweet, gentle, but commanding all at once. In his eyes, you’re an innocent angel…or, as he puts it, a sweet bunny.

And you fucking hate it.

It doesn’t bother you in the sense that Felix cares for you; quite the contrary, in fact. You like his warmth, how protective he is, how sweet and kind he can be.

But he treats you too kindly. Too much like his other friends, too much like his sister, too much like a companion.

Not enough like a lover.

It seems that he’s completely oblivious to your longing stares, the way you follow him around and practically worship the ground he walks on. He never seems to grasp why you sit in his lap at parties, squirming around just a little too much, or why you cuddle up to him in his room when you’ve had a nightmare in your skimpy nightdress. He stares off into a space between and kisses girls right in front of you.

You want him to treat you like the sluts he brings home.

The whispers of how the boy fucks is something you’ve grown accustomed to. The girls you had become acquainted with who had slept with him, giggling to you about how much of a good lay he was. How mean, how brutal he was. How big he was.

‘This doesn’t bother you, does it? God, I know it’s weird because he’s your best friend ‘n all, but I don’t understand why you haven’t done him yet. I would’ve thought… y’know, given how close you two are...’

It makes you sick, knowing he does it to other girls and not you.

And now, sitting on a couch at one of Felix’s infamous Saltburn parties, you watch as he does it once again.

Your nose slides across the glass table in front of you. Two people sit beside you, making friendly conversation, but you can’t focus on them. Your nose is filled to the brim with glittery white powder as you stare at Felix’s new side piece through your faux lashes.

He’s got her in his lap, this girl. Olivia is her name, or something like that. You don’t like her. She’s too needy, clinging onto him a little too much for just a simple hookup. His hand grabs her hip as she presses kisses to his neck. He’s laughing, splayed across the leather couch across from you, as she whispers dirty phrases into his ear. You can tell that that’s what she’s doing because she’s grinding against him like a bitch in heat. It makes you stomach churn.

“(Y/N!)”

Your head looks up, and Farleigh stands in front of you. You give him a smile, though it’s mostly fake. You love him, but you can’t stop thinking about Felix.

Felix and her.

Farleigh chats with you about some guy he’s about to go and hook up with, telling you his whereabouts as a safety precaution. You nod to him as he leaves.

Felix has his hand up her skirt, now. He’s gripping her ass and rocking up into her clothed cunt.

You can’t look any longer.

You stumble to your feet, the room spinning a bit before turning to normal. An intoxicated kind of giddiness flows through you, and you brush past the couch and try to get Felix off your mind. You spot one of his new companions— Oliver. He’s quite handsome, you think. A little weird, a little quiet, but he’ll do for sure.

It isn’t long before you’ve got him in between your thighs in an empty corridor, a buzz flowing from your toes up to the crown of your head as he thrusts his tongue mercilessly into your drenched heat. He draws circles into your clit and laps at you like he’s parched. Oh, he’s good. Practiced, precise. He loves to please.

But he isn’t Felix.

Although Oliver’s tongue is skilled, it isn’t necessarily that that gets you to your peak. When you cum, you think of a familiar brunette with an eyebrow piercing, a wide smile, and dreamy eyes.

You let Oliver fuck you against the wall, after that.

It feels good. He’s big, rough, mean. Just how you like it.

Just how you want Felix to be.

You decide not to return to the party.

—

Your bare feet pad against the tiles of the Saltburn estate, your heels in your hand . The hallway is empty, save for one or two stragglers. No one really comes to this side of the house. You’re attempting to walk— or in this case, stumble— to your room. But everything is blurry, your feet dancing, and—

Shit, is this even your hallway?

You don’t know, really. You’re drunk, high. You don’t give a shit.

Your fingers are dancing across the walls, admiring the intricate paintings placed on each one. You lick your lips and taste a tequila shot, your dress askew. Fuck it.

You’re admiring The Fallen Angel by Alexandra Cabanel when you hear them.

It starts out slow— a deep, guttural moan, from the door to your left. It translates into a familiar voice, growling.

“What?” It teases. “Is my cock too much for you? Too big, huh?”

And then another sound comes through the thin walls and slightly opened door. A high pitched whine, pleading.

“Felix! Please, it feels so good.”

Your brows furrow. Drunken confusion. You silently creep up to the door, wondering. Your eyes peek through at the scene.

The color drains from your face.

Of course it’s Felix. Felix and her.

He’s got her bent over an expensive wood table. He’s pulling her hair, pressing his hips into her with every push and pull. She’s got her mouth open as her eyes roll back in ecstasy, and her cunt swallows him whole.

Your shoes drop to the ground in utter shock.

Now that seems to grab the pair’s attention. Felix looks back, and his eyes catch your dilated ones. He curses, slipping out of her and trying to conceal himself as he pulls his pants up. The girl catches sight of you, too, and she’s instantly pulling down her top and throwing her clothes on.

“Christ, Bunny!” Felix exclaims, flushed. “The fuck are you doing all the way over here?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, but you won’t cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of his whore.

You turn before you even know what you’re doing, and you scurry away from the scene with tears running hotly down your cheeks.

So much for parties.

—

When you wake in the morning, you’ve got a pounding headache and you’re sprawled out on your bed.

Your body aches, and you whine as you turn over on your side. The memories of last night flood back into your psyche, and you want to throw up. Of course the one thing you don’t want to remember is buried so prominently into your skull that it’s the first thing you think about.

It’s not like Felix hasn’t fucked anyone before. But seeing it, actually watching him do it to another girl, makes you sick. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye at breakfast.

You stand up on wobbly legs. You make your way to the bathroom, throw your guts up at least twice, and then brush your teeth. A warm shower calms you down, though your head still hurts. You’ll have to take some ibuprofen later.

You make your way to the dining room in a juicy tracksuit and brown ugg boots. You slide a pair of sunnies on your face to protect you from the blinding sun, letting out a pained moan when it shines through the large stain glass window.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Farleigh coos from the table. You give him the middle finger before plopping down in a seat beside Oliver. His eyes scan over you, taking in your appearance. His knee bumps against yours, and he whispers a quiet ‘good morning’ to you.

God, he’s a clingy little shit, isn’t he?

Felix’s eyes follow your every move. Usually you sit next to him in the mornings, but as of right now, why bother? The closer to get to him, the more vivid the image of him fucking her comes into your mind.

You swallow down a few pieces of toast and some orange juice. Elsbeth is talking about a party reserved for Oliver for his birthday, one that they will host this weekend. How absolutely and utterly fan-fucking-tastic.

Oh, well. You’ll be able to dress up, at least. That’ll probably be the best part.

You ignore Felix for the entirety of the day. There’s still that fire coiling in your gut everytime you look at him, that hot bubble of rage and jealousy. Oliver looks up at you through long eyelashes during a game of tennis, and you find the way to satiate that heat.

—

It’s an awful idea. A terrible, mean, despicable idea.

You knew Felix would be out. It was around five pm— the time when he usually begins coming back to the house from his afternoon run. He would be back in twenty to thirty minutes.

“You’re incredibly fucked. Do you know that?”

Oliver whispers it huskily, pleased, as you push him down on a set of familiar satin sheets. You smirk, your cunt grinding down onto him.

“And you’re not?”

He grunts as you unbutton his shirt. You kiss down his chest, soon getting rid of your bra and top. You rock back on him slowly, teasing. His hand moves around to grope your ass, but you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Are you going to behave?”

A smirk plays on his lips. You want to slap it off of him.

“No.”

You snake your hand down to his bulge, giving it a considerable squeeze. He lets out a tiny gasp, biting his lower lip.

“What was that?” You say, almost threatening.

He gulps. He looks almost cute with the blush dusting across his face.

“Yes.” he whispers. You ghost your fingers over his waistband.

“What was that?”

“Yes, I’ll behave.”

He hisses it, and you’re pleased.

“Good boy.”

And then when he’s inside you, you bounce on him like your life depends on it. You look up above Felix’s bed, at the framed picture of you and him. He had hung it up, and for that you’re thankful. You concentrate on the way photo Felix’s fingers tightly grip a shot glass. Oliver lets out tiny whines as you clench around his cock, and you grind your clit against the base of him. You know that Felix catches you both when you look back at the slightly cracked door and see him there— blue headband, muscle tee and shorts. When you lock eyes, he moves away from the door and down the hall with a clenched jaw and cheeks blooming red.

—

The days pass from one into three, and soon it’s Oliver’s birthday. Felix has avoided you, much to your dismay. You thought he would give in sooner. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to pretend the situation didn’t happen altogether. But the hard stare he gives you whenever he sees you, the clenching of his hands, and the plain ignorance of your presence gives him away.

You’ve decided to dress as a Bunny for Oliver’s infamous costume party. Your favorite animal, but also another way to piss Felix off. Wearing a pink bodysuit, sparkly fishnets, and pink bunny ears, you make your way into the party beside Venetia, who’s ranting about her current situationship with some girl she met at a club. Scanning the crowd, you take notice of Felix from across the room. Angel wings sit on his shoulders, his eyes lined with a black eye pencil. He’s wearing a white wifebeater.

You go to the bar and take a few shots to stifle your nerves. Felix’s eyes follow you as you grab a bottle from the bartender and make your way outside.

It isn’t long before you’re absolutely plastered. Giggling to yourself, you make your way towards the hedge maze in the backyard. Felix’s voice, the one he hasn’t used to talk to you directly for a few days, interrupts your diddle daddling.

“We need to talk.”

You keep walking, him trailing behind you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Felix.”

His big hand grabbing your arm and spinning you around to look at him surprises you. He glares.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You back away, winding through the labyrinth of bushes. Felix groans as you begin to skip around each corner.

“This isn’t a game, y’know!” He calls, as he tries his best to keep up with you. It isn’t long before you’re both standing in the middle of the maze. The stone statue overpowers the both of your bodies as it leers down in a violent pose. You smile crookedly when Felix stalks over to you, making a beeline for the other side of the statue. It doesn’t seem to be funny to him.

He catches you when you least expect it, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, (Y/N)?!”

He yells it, infuriated, deep vocal cords strumming. It makes you jump. He never calls you by your real name.

He purses his lips, anger evident on his face as you smile up at him still.

“‘M jus’ having fun, Fel. Whats wrong with that?”

“What’s— what’s wrong with—“ he laughs, dry and humorless, as he pushes you away from him. “Whats wrong is that you fucked my friend in my room! What the hell went through your head?!“

You clench your teeth.

“I don’t know, Felix,” you utter sarcastically. “I really don’t know. Call it irritational horniness. But tell me. Are you mad? For once, once in your fucking life, are you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad!” he seethes, as if it’s obvious. “But why do you want that? What prompted this?”

You avert from his piercing gaze, turning your back on him. Your cheeks are flaring with heat from how he’s treating you, your inner thighs wet and sticky.

God, this is so wrong.

“I think you know.”

Genuinely confused, Felix throws up his hands. He’s exasperated.

“No, I don’t. I don’t, (Y/N), so tell me. Tell me the damn truth!”

“The truth?” You say, finally. “‘S that what you want?”

You whirl around, anger finally taking over in your usually pliant, doe eyes.

“The truth, Felix, is that you treat me like a kid!” You yell. Your voice cracks, and you hate it. “You treat me like a fucking child! Like your friend! Like a… like a—“

Your breath heaves, and you try to find the words you’re looking for. Felix looks at you, his brows furrowed.

You can’t open your mouth anymore, too distraught, too open. You’re saying all the things you promised you’d keep buried deep inside you.

Felix takes a step forward. You take a step back. Your lower back hits the stone statue, and you wince at the way it digs into your skin.

“What are you saying?” He asks, careful with his words. You laugh bitterly in his face— at least, as close as you can get to his face. He towers over you like a giant.

“I’m saying that after all this time, after all these years, I thought you’d notice how badly I want you. But clearly not, with the way I caught you fucking that cunt last weekend.”

The words finally come out— slurred because of your drunkenness, dry because you’ve given up. You’ve given up on Felix, on the possibility of him ever returning the feelings you’ve always had for him. You’ve given up on your friendship, on his kindness. You don’t want it anymore. Why continue this if it’s only going to hurt you?

The boy is stunned into silence for a mere moment.

“What?”

You turn away from his stare, looking down at the ground.

“You heard me, Felix.”

His eyes follow your lips, nose, eyes. His lips part ever so slightly, and his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black as realization settles over him.

“So that’s what you want?”

It comes out hushed, like a secret. His breath is hot against your lips as he leans in close to you.

“All this time you’ve been acting like this.. all because you want me to fuck you? Because you’re jealous?”

You stare up at him in a daze, silent. Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. You jump when Felix lets out a chuckle, something grating and deep, that permeates your bones and worms its way inside your guts.

“God, you’re sick.”

He scoffs, moving forward on his long legs. His big hand wraps itself around your hair and tugs. You let out a gasp as he tilts your head back, the burn of your scalp making your legs clench together.

“You’ve been torturing me for weeks—“ he spits, yanking at the roots of your hair even harder, and you let out a squeak. “— Not speaking to me, making me question what I could’ve possibly done wrong, fucking my friend in my bed, all because you want to me treat you like some whore?“

Your mouth gapes open, and you’re frozen like a deer in headlights as Felix finally gives you what you want. He continues to speak, but not before his knee is coming up to rub in between your thighs. It’s such a sudden movement, so aggressive, that your legs buckle and you grab onto his shoulders for purchase. His hands splay across your hips, moving you in tandem across the fabric of his jeans.

“Don’t worry.” He says. “You’ll never have to worry about that again.”

“Felix—” you start, but his hand slapping you clear across the face makes you lose all words. Your cheek flares with heat from his hand coming down on it, and you grasp the red mark in pain.

“Was he good?” he growls, grabbing the hand touching your face and putting it in his much larger one. He places it over his crotch, and you feel the giant bulge against the fabric. “Was he as big as me? Did he fuck you the way you thought I would?”

You shake, stuttering on every phrase in your vocabulary. Felix grinds into your hand.

“You think that I don’t want you like this?”

It comes out strained, tortured. Like it’s painful for you to even assume that. Your mouth waters at the feeling of his girth underneath your palm.

“I’ve never been this hard for anyone,” he breathes. “I jerked my cock every night when you were in my bed because I thought it was the closest I could get to you. I fucking…God, do you even know what you do me?“

He works his thigh against your pussy, and you whine desperately as you pull away from his assault on you. You kiss your way down his chest, worship his body, lave your tongue over the skin peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt as you sink down to your knees. Your hands fumble with his belt, waiting for the moment when his cock will be released and you’ll finally get what you’ve been begging for. He grunts, tilting his head as he watches you desperately fumble with the leather around his waist.

“Already trying to suck me off? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

You press your mouth against his thigh and practically drool at his words. He looks down at you like a God, golden angel wings splaying out in the moonlight for you to gape at. How ironic it is, that he decided to wear this costume tonight.

“All for you, Felix,” you say, pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. You gape at his impressive length.

“That’s right,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over your lip. “Now put me in your mouth. Show me how much of a fucking slut you are.”

You do as you’re told, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up his shaft. He clenches his jaw, watching as you hold eye contact with him when you take his dick into the warm, wet confines of your mouth. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck and he pushes you down onto him. Choking, your nose hits the soft bed of pubic hair trimmed neatly at his base. Your eyes roll back as he begins to fuck your throat, pleasure and electricity flowing through your head and down to your toes. The corners of your mouth burn as he stretches out your mouth.

“Didn’t know you could take dick so good,” Felix muses, his balls slapping against your chin. “If I would’ve known how badly you wanted this, I would’ve slid my cock inside you the night you caught me with that girl.”

That girl. He can’t even remember her name. It satisfies something dark that’s been blooming in you since you saw him sticking his dick where it didn’t belong.

You moan around him, spit trailing down your neck as you tongue at his slit. Your hands grip his big, meaty thighs, and it occurs to you just how strong he is. He could break you, rip you apart piece by piece, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The thought arouses you to no end.

“You pissed me off so fuckin’ much that night, y’know that?” He rambles, his thighs squeezing the sides of your face. He’s practically trapping you against his cock, and you try your hardest to breathe through your nose but you can feel your vision blurring at the edges. “You caught me in the middle of it, didn’t even say sorry. Didn’t help me finish. You’re a sick little bitch for watching me fuck her. I bet you touched yourself after that, didn’t you? Touched your little cunt thinking about the way I used her?”

You whimper around him, your fingers attempting to move down and rub against your clit. But Felix lets out a sound in the back of his throat and kicks your hand away.

“Don’t. You don’t get to cum tonight. You put your hands on me, or you don’t put them on anything at all.”

Your hands wrap around the back of his thighs, then, as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’ll do anything he demands you to.

After a long moment of being face fucked with only a few breathing breaks in between, your throat is scratchy and raw. Felix yanks you off of him, and you wheeze as you’re thrown to the ground, your hand going to your throat as your eyes drip with citrine tears. Felix stands for a moment to let you catch your breath. He’s still your best friend, after all— he cares about your well being, as angry as he is right now.

It isn’t long, however, before he’s grabbing you up by your elbow and bending you over the marble statue. Your cheek lands on the cold stone, the crotch of your bodysuit is ripped open, exposing your lace panties and the fat globes of your ass. You stick yourself out for him, moaning as he rips your underwear off of you and throws it on the ground. He spreads your legs and coos at your dripping cunt.

“Oh, look at that,” his fingers go to either side of your pussy lips, spreading them apart and revealing your teeny tiny hole. “It’s clenching s’much, isn’t it, sweetheart? It’s all swollen ‘n red. It’s been so worked up all night, I bet.”

“Felix,” you cry, a blubbering mess. “Please.”

He chuckles, rubbing the tip of his finger against your clit. You quiver underneath his touch, gasping when his aching cockhead suddenly brushes up against your entrance.

“I want to know how badly you want me. Tell me, darling. Tell me how pathetic you are.”

“I want it,” your voice comes out small, weak. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs. Wan’ you to stretch me out on your fat cock, Felix. Give it t’me, pleasepleaseplease…”

He lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling you trying to clench around the tip of his cock, trying to suck him in. Your head is fuzzy, your cunt throbbing. You need him more than you need air.

“Okay,” he lets out, whispering. It’s an oddly gentle tone, and you know it’s because this situation could change the outcome of your friendship forever. “Okay, sweetheart.”

He pushes forward, the fat tip of his cock popping into your entrance, and you let out a mewl. Felix is big, and not just in his height or his shoulders. He stretches you so deliciously to the point where it’s borderline painful.

“Oh my god,” he grits his teeth, his head tipping back. “God, you’re a tight little thing. So tiny..”

You know he’s talking to your pussy now, drunk off the way you’re wrapping around his shaft. He moves slow, gentle strokes against your aching pussy, his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he struggles to contain himself.

Your cheek is smushed against the hard surface below you, but that doesn’t stop you from speaking.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, moaning. “Destroy me, rip me apart.. I don’t care, Felix.”

He moans along with you, a sound of pure, unleashed pleasure. His hips speed up, and he fucks into your cunt with reckless abandon as your nails dig into the marble below you. His cock is so deep that you can almost feel him in your throat.

He angles at a spot inside that has you keening, your hips fucking back onto him as he rams into you. Your nails scrape against the statue, tears running down your cheeks.

“Felix,” you moan out, but it’s hard to speak as the breath is being knocked out of you.

“Mmm,” he hums, grabbing your hips. “‘M gonna cum. ‘M gonna cum in your sweet little pussy.”

“Please,” you gasp. “Please, fill me up, fill up my pussy!”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His arms lift your body up, and his biceps curl around your neck. Your eyes widen as he tightens his grip, placing you in a chokehold underneath him. His hips slap against yours, his steady words bordering on a whine. “You want me to cum inside you? Get you all pregnant and full? Mmm, that’d be a pretty sight, wouldn’t it…”

You clench down on him. He growls, a sigh of your name tumbling out of his mouth. His hips stutter. And with one last harsh thrust, he’s cumming. His warmth fills you to the brim and spills over the cusp as he fucks into you, teeth scraping against your neck as he bites down and leaves a mark. Sweat drips drown your temple, small pants escaping your lips as you try to swallow oxygen into your lungs. Felix’s arms are still wrapped around you neck, but they aren’t wrapped tight enough to cut off your air completely.

Definitely tight enough to bruise, though.

He slows, after a few more moments. You still grind onto his overstimulated cock, and he squeezes your throat in warning.

“What did I tell you? You don’t get to cum tonight.”

Your face becomes blotchy with tears, and you sob as he pulls out of you. His cum spills down onto the concrete floor, your pussy gushing with his seed, and you want to scream.

“But Felix,” you babble, grabbing onto his arm as he tucks himself back into his pants. “No, baby, please—“

“This is what you wanted,” he replies, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out. His glances down at the creamy spend that had fallen out of you and onto the ground. Grabbing you by your hair, he pushes you down onto your knees. He gestures to his cum, licking his lips.

“Now clean that up,” he demands. “Wouldn’t want to leave a mess, would we?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

[painonthebrain]

JuneofDoom Day 15 - Rescue

Content: Manhandling, restraints, gags, sedation, female whumpee, pet whump, conditioned whumpee

When she was taken, she resisted as hard as she could. She thrashed, she bit, she kicked, she screamed. Even when they tied her down, she reared her head back, slamming it into her kidnappers’ chins. She would not be taken that easily.

“Let me go!” Her voice was shrill and piercing, a combination between a yell, a shriek, and a cry. They gagged her, and still she screamed, muffled shouts and guttural cries, calling out for help.

“Mngh! Mghng!!”

She kicked the ground, kicked the ones who were taking her away, she thrashed and moved wildly.

They pinned her to the ground. Still, she bucked and squirmed, even as she was held down by the weight of their bodies.

“We have her.” One said into a walkie-talkie. “Over.”

Something pricked her shoulder, and she jerked, but it was too late, whatever they had injected into her was already in her veins now.

Still muffled, she screamed bloody murder, cursing and wailing, getting slower and slower until she could no longer move or scream. She was dizzy and weak now.

She moaned, sniffling when they hoisted her up by her armpits, marching her to their vehicle.

They laid her in the backseat, buckling her in. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’re here to help you. You’re safe now.”

As they drove away, all she could do was feel pitiful for failing her master.

[starrystevie]

experiment on me | written by rogersharringtons on ao3

eddie's been an experiment before. too many times to count, if he’s being honest. he’s been the secret, the thing that goes bump in the night in a stuffed full closet when the parents came home. he’s been the drunken night, the fumbling hands in a bathroom stall that only give and never get anything in return. he’s been the split lip, torn up knees, bruised ribs in an alleyway getting insults thrown at him when he wanted more. needed more. needed hands out in public and lips cherry red from soft kisses and meeting the parents over goddamn pork chops in the dining room. so when steve comes to him in that same way the other guys before him did with ducked heads and flushed cheeks, toes pointed together like they’re shy, it’s easy to say no.

explicit | 3.9k

tags: au - modern, au - college/university, original male character, top steve harrington, phone sex, video sex, oral sex, anal sex, one night stands, getting together

[leviscolwill]

young & beautiful [smau]

pairing: jude bellingham x royal!reader (face claim: iris apatow)

summary: an unexpected dating rumor involving the world's favourite princess and england's golden boy, jude bellingham, sparks chaos on social media.

note: the quality of the tweets is VERY questionable,, also i don't know anything about the royal family so this might be inaccurate

now playing: young and beautiful by lana del rey (the great gatsby ost)

windsors.latest

liked by ur.bsf, user61 and 349.199 others

windsors.latest new pictures of princess y/n posted by her bestfriend during their holidays in madrid, spain.

see all comments

user61 my fav 🥹

user09 i hope she'll get to watch a real madrid game there 🤍

jude22.updates

liked by user22, user71 and 308.209 others

jude22.updates jude was seen with a mysterious girl by fans in madrid tonight

see all comments

user82 RUE WHEN WAS THIS ‼️‼️

user99 does anyone knows who she is ? 👀

jude22.updates i didn't find anything on her, just that picture

kuwthebellinghams

liked by user60, user76 and 419.031 others

kuwthebellinghams jude was seen hanging out with princess y/n in london before his game against italy in a couple of days 👀

see all comments

user22 i swear i saw someone on twt say they were together a few weeks ago 💀

user03 oh hell nooo, they better run away together

judebellingham

liked by karimadeyemi, camavinga and 3.469.109 others

judebellingham vacaciones con mi princessa

see all comments

gioreyna you're punching

judebellingham i'm a pacifist ??

user28 oh he has that royal rizz [liked by judebellingham]

[teletubbyinlipstick]

DogWood Tree

Artemis. R.

“Only do what your heart tells you” - Princess Diana

(18+ for themes of assault. MINORS DNI! You are responsible for the media you consume. You have been warned.)

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You were new to the BAU, having only been fresh out of the academy for 5 months, and an official “intern agent” for 3. It was understandable that you'd have hiccups along the way.

Yes, you had the badge, the gun, and the FBI vest you so dearly loved, but they considered you an “Intern Agent” as sort of a preliminary to see how you do with the team. See If you integrate well and adapt to a new habitat. Of course, you were allowed on cases. However, you always had to have a Supervisory Special Agent with you.

In all fairness, you were the youngest. Sometimes you need a guiding hand, not in a babying way-as you are 23 years old with a sound mind and job- but more of a young doe, wide eyed and eager to please.

Eager to impress.

Hotch and Rossi pinpointed that in you the second you walked in for an interview. Nervously playing with your rings, flushed cheeks, and every couple minutes, you'd tuck strands of hair behind your ear. It was sweet, so young and open. Could you really blame them for their instincts? They instantly took a protectiveness over you, treating you like family, almost like a daughter.

Not to mention how sweet the others are, adored with your youth and energy. Penelope gave you stuffed animals upon accidentally learning of your ever growing collection. JJ and Luke somehow memorized your coffee order immediately, and since you tended to show up 40 minutes after everyone, the two often took turns bringing you coffee.

Emily and Morgan were definitely your big brother/sister; they teased you relentlessly, ruffling your hair during training or round table meetings. Being the youngest was something they loved to tease you about. Arguing over who gets to “babysit” first. Morgan likes to hold your badge out of reach and giggle like a psycho when you inevitably climb a chair to reach it. Although the look on his face when Hotch scolds him for teasing is so worth the irritation.

The only one you couldn't quite figure out was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

An anomaly like no other, a mystery by any other name. The man doesn't say much to you outside of work. He's very warm, open, to the others, but he shuts down a bit when it comes to you. In fact, you can count on one hand the conversations you two have shared that didn't involve work. Those moments are beautiful, the soft giggles and his lips quirking up as he gazes at you with something you can't quite put your finger on.

They never last long enough for you to decipher. You can tell when he comes to himself a sudden, sharp, intake of breath before he tenses clears his throat and makes a beeline for the opposite end of the room. It's a bitter end to the brief sweetness.

You've tried to soothe the burn of whatever scorn you've caused from him, bringing him ginseng honey tea because JJ said it was his favorite. Only for him to smile strainly and leave the cup full at the top of his desk…so maybe he's weird about people touching his food and drinks…that's okay! Generosity comes in many forms, so next you tried holding a door open for him and quickly never did it again because the look he gave you made you want to crawl into a closet and rot.

It seems whatever kind favor you do for him irritates him greatly time and time again. It's exhausting and you can't imagine what you've done to warrant such…animosity. You were determined to please. To get to the bottom of this.

You were nothing if not stubborn!

Currently, the team and you are in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Having been flown out the night prior for 4 missing women reports, 2 bodies showed up downstream a river right outside a camp ground. All young, early 20s, camp counselors.

Upon landing Rossi and you were paired and sent to the camp, specifically the cluster of cabins where two of the women bunked together. In the car you both bounced theories back and forth a major one being he was a camp counselor who was rejected/humiliated by other counselors. Perhaps he was a grounds keeper, a sudden stressor has him reacting.

Rossi heads towards the front office intent on having a looj at the files. You trek on to the first cabin, Rebekah Daniel's was the first to go missing. The door was taped off caution signs covering the blood and dirt stains across the porch.

Entering the place was foul, it smelled of something awful and it was throughly trashed. A clear sign of a struggle. You do a swoop of the room where you find a snapped necklace caught under a window pane. Possibly where he had dragged them out.

Hotch calls not long after Rossi and you meet back up. Stating him and Reid might have a more defined geographical location of the unsub. You both conducted interviews with the other campers, splitting them into groups before dwindling down to one on one.

It unfortunately didn't bring much to light, so, heading back to the station you give Rossi and run through of what you found. He squeezes your shoulder, a proud grin on his face. Giving you a "good job, kid." For the effort.

It was time for the second update on JJ and Emily as they interviewed the girl's families. Something felt off the rest of the night. You couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but you were on edge and frustrated with how the interviews had gone…you're missing something. You just know it.

Now, technically you weren’t allowed to get on crime scene sites without a Supervisory Agent with you…but you had a random stroke of luck when remembering the writings on the bathroom stalls out near the campground you and Rossi had Investigated hours prior. So, really, who could blame you?

And that's exactly how you ended up running through the woods in nothing but sweatpants, sneakers, and a baggy t-shirt. It was almost 2am, your phone was gone, your jacket was gone, and most of your dignity was also gone. When you arrived, it was quiet, settled, and you were quick in getting to the stalls and snapping photos of the writing. Intending to study them at the hotel rather than in the woods…in the middle of the night. So imagine your surprise when your full force body slammed into the wall, ears ringing as a boot stomps onto your stomach. You have enough sense to latch on the leg the second time it comes down and use it as leverage to kick up into the man's groin. Scrambling up and over him crashing through the bathroom door frantically dialing Morgan's number.

You can hear him behind you. A snarl sound coming from his throat as he chases, It's predator and prey. Morgan picks up on the 4th ring.

“Yo, this better be good, kid.”

Barely managing a sharp squeal/wail when you're tackled again, phone flying from your grasp. Not hearing the frantic tone of Morgan calling your name. The man - who you now know is the unsub - grabs a fist full of your hair, his hand as big as your head as he shoves your face against the rough dirt and rocks.

“What a sweet little lamb you are. What're you doing all by your lonesome?” his voice was gravely, almost ill sounding, and you cried till your voice was hoarse struggling under him. A horrible sound of a zipper has you tensing, your left arm frees with his sudden pressure change. And you take that opportunity to pull your arm back, then snap it against the unsubs nose, and you can hear the sickening crunch of cartilage and bone. It's pitch black, and you don't notice the steep drop both you and the unsub come close to. Desperate to live and running on animal instincts, you use another pushing point on his outer thigh to create distance. You're up and on your feet, balancing on your left leg to deliver a swift kick to the head with your right when the unsub gets to his knees. motherfuckers got perseverance.

A brief glint catches the moonlight, and your eyes widen. Oh fuck.

He's got a gun.

Your delay was your downfall. In your sudden pause, it gave the unsub enough time to aim and fire. The bullet takes home in your shoulder, stumbling back, almost dazed as the ground gives way, and you plummet down a steep hill.

Oh god...

The team is gonna kill me.

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This is nothing but one big rough draft I edited where I could, but yeah, it's not meant to be perfect. I hope you enjoyed it tho! Please feel free to give advice or point out any errors! I have a whole story in my mind, I'm negl. I don't know if I'll continue it, but imma try because I have a huge idea where it goes next so....maybe expect? I'll update more if anything changes.

[curioscurio]

[Short Story]

80 Percent

One day, we developed the technology to completely map out and visualize every single living creature and object in the ocean. The machine had been running for a few years and received an extraordinary amount of funding from scientific organizations around the world.

When it finishes its job, the results are to be instantly shared around the world.

On the final day of the countdown, everyone started getting giddy with excitement and curiosity while waiting for the results.

"This is really magnificent. Who knows what incredible forms of life we're going to find?" An intern in New Zealand bounced with nervous energy and smiled.

"I hope it's hiding epic and delicious sea monsters, like in hollywood movies!" A lighthearted seafood chef in Spain jokes.

"There could be a sponge out there with the cure to cancer!" A sick child in America coughs out to their nurse.

Oil and fishing industries everywhere were hosting company parties; celebrating the new abundance of supply to support the crushing weight of demand.

A salaryman in Hong Kong playfully groans. "Anything but the same old boring fish we see all the time. I'd love to see something like a never-before seen creature with octopus-like intelligence!"

"It's nice to know that, despite all of mankind's careless neglect of the ocean, there's still an abundance of nature still untouched by humanities pollution." An environmental activist in India comments.

Deep in the middle of the Atlantic, a scientific research boat sits filled with passionate marine biologists.

Someone hastily bought a cake to celebrate the hard work everyone had put into the project over the years. The team didn't know what kind of discoveries they'd run into, so it was decided that a baby shower themed cake would have to do. On the top, in blue frosting, was written: "Congratulations! It's a____!"

Presumably, the blank was to be filled in once the data from the machine was compiled.

The machine beeps once, echoing throughout the research vessel, and everyone races to the screen as fast as their legs will take them.

They read the results.

No one says anything.

"That can't be right. Someone go and reset the device and run it again." The head scientist sighs, confident that they had run into an error.

Another twenty minutes go by.

The machine beeps once.

The updated model is largely the same as the previous one.

"...maybe it's not done loading." Someone shatters the silence, and the crowd of scientists flinch, but no one dares take their sights off the screen. Nobody breathes. It's the same outcome on the third try, as well.

The visual simulation on the computer screen shows a complex 3D model of all the life in the entire ocean.

There are whales gliding between continents, sharks feasting on squids, and squids feasting on sharks. Gorgeous and intelligent octopus that can change the color of their skin at will. A pod of humpback whales could be seen off the coast of Antarctica. All of the diverse and colorful life living in the ocean swim before their eyes in a transparent globe of digital seawater.

It looks just like a modern map of the ocean as we know it.

"I don't understand. It looks exactly the same." Someone whispers.

"Exactly. Humankind has only been able to explore around 20 percent of the entire ocean on planet Earth." The head scientist gulps, eyes still hooked to the glassy screen.

"So," someone's voice begins to waver. "You're saying that the other 80 percent..."

No one answers. No one blinks.

"It's... empty. It's not detecting any life signs that we haven't already discovered. It's empty." Someone says.

Someone thinks about pollution.

Someone thinks about shark fin soup.

Someone thinks about the stock market.

Someone thinks about a pet store; shelves lined with dozens of fish that float upside-down and belly up at the top of their tanks.

"... we're all that's left." Someone says.

[unprofessionalclownery]

hc that hal has an ipod filled with anime osts that he forces snake to play when theres nothing good on the radio on philanthropy road trips. and every time snake swears he'll strangle otacon if he plays one more pop-y magical girl intro, but otacon chides that if dave brought his own cds, he wouldn't be having this problem

[remedyturtles]

[rat-prophetess]

Pathologic 2 + the onion headlines, part 2 (part 1) (patho classic version)

[ghosttotheparty]

The dialogue writing prompt thing. Number eight with Steddie. I think Eddie saying it to Steve. Idk. It'd be cute:]

youre so right cw: weed use

8. “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.” dialogue prompts!!

Eddie is very tired.

It's been a long... few days. (Feels like years.) And he wants to go to bed, and listen to the wind, and maybe get a little high, but as he thinks about it all he remembers where he is.

In the lobby of Hawkins Memorial Hospital, with stitches in his skin and an ice pack on his head. Next to Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, with Steve Harrington by his side. Steve's knee won't stop bouncing up and down. Eddie can hear the rubber sole of his shoe squeaking on the tile, and after he suffers through it for another minute, he reaches out and sets his hand on him. Steve's knee freezes as soon as Eddie's hand is on it, but Eddie can feel his tenseness radiating through his jeans, can feel how anxious he is, and he wordlessly flips his hand over, holding it out.

He doesn't know what he expects, but after a moment Steve slides his hand into Eddie's, pressing their palms together and lacing their fingers. Eddie keeps staring at the floor. There's a spot of dirt on the white tile that looks how he feels. Steve's fingers tighten after a moment, and Eddie squeezes back.

They're there for a long while. Waiting. Robin falls asleep with her head on Nancy's shoulder, and Nancy rests her head on Robin’s, sighing deeply. Eddie wishes Steve would fall asleep. He seems like he could use it.

He doesn't know how long it is until a door opens and the others appear around the corner into the waiting room. Eddie and Steve pull their hands away silently, tightening as they watch everyone trickle into the room. Max, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin, followed by Max's mom, Lucas and Erica's parents, Dustin's mom, Dr Owens, and Chief Powell. Steve exhales next to Eddie. It takes a long while for them to sort everything out. The parents all look... Eddie doesn't think tired is the right word for it.

They all look scared. Even as they look at their children.

Eddie wishes he was high.

The kids don't want to go home alone, even with their respective parents, so a sleepover is organized at the Sinclairs'. Max will borrow some of Erica's pyjamas that are too big for her, and Dustin will borrow Lucas's. (Though Eddie suspects they'll all be asleep as soon as they enter the house. Especially Max, who looks like she's about to keel over any second. Lucas seems to notice it too, and keeps an arm around her the whole time.)

Goodbyes are said in the parking lot, in the brightness from the hospital that's spilling out into the night. Mr Sinclair shakes Steve and Eddie's hands and Ms Henderson hugs them both as gently as she can. Eddie feels like he's spinning, blindly hugging the kids, murmuring soft I love yous and pressing kisses to the tops of their heads, until he's standing by Steve and watching the cars peel out of the parking lot.

Nancy sighs heavily again.

"You're with me?" Steve asks Eddie softly. Eddie looks at him. His eyes reflect the hospital lights in a way that looks holy.

"Yeah," he says.

He sits shotgun while Steve drives to drop the girls off at Nancy's, getting out to hug them and accept the kisses they press to his cheeks, and then he watches Steve walk them up to the front door, hugging them both tenderly before he whispers something to Robin that makes her smack the back of his head. Steve is snickering when he comes back to the car, and it makes Eddie smile.

"Ready?" Steve asks, like they're going on an adventure instead of going home.

Home.

"Do you think... we can stop by my place first?" Eddie asks weakly. "I wanna get... some stuff."

"Yeah," Steve says, pulling out of the Wheelers' driveway. "What do you wanna get?"

"Uh." Eddie sighs. "Some clothes. Keepsakes. Cash. Wayne doesn't know where I hide it, I bet he didn't get it when they made him leave. And, uh..."

"And?"

"Okay, you can't judge me," Eddie says, opening his mouth to speak and make excuses for himself, but Steve interrupts with a quiet, "Never."

Eddie smiles at him for a moment.

"I kinda really wanna get high," he says. "I'm just... I'm so fucking tired, man, and my stitches hurt like a bitch, and I'm..." He trails off, unsure of what to say. He doesn't have that many reasons. He feels like he should have more, like he needs excuse after excuse to get high, but Steve just nods.

"I feel you," he says. "I have some weed at home, but it's not a lot."

"Steve Harrington," Eddie says, relaxing into his seat with relief. "Where've you been my whole life?"

Steve laughs quietly.

"Right here, man."

The trailer is taped off when they get to it, but they don't let it stop them. (It's not like Eddie's never broken in anywhere. Plus, he isn't even actually stealing tonight. It's all his.) If they get arrested, Powell is in on everything now. It'll be fine.

Eddie finds some bags and Steve helps him stuff them full of sweaters and jeans and shirts and handfuls of socks and underwear. Eddie finds his lunchbox in the living room, untouched and unbothered, and he supposes it makes sense that the military government men don't actually care that much about drugs in the grand scheme of things. He fills the lunchbox with the cash from the false bottom of his sock drawer. Steve watches, an almost curious expression on his face. Eddie does one last sweep of the room as Steves takes the bags out to his car. He presses a kiss to his guitar, silently promising he'll be back for her, He finds a bong under his bed and carries it out of the house with him, holding it up as Steve starts the car. Steve grins at him. (He's got an amazing smile. It lights up his whole face like a lamp.)

Steve’s house is eerily quiet when they get there. Silence isn’t all that weird in and of itself, Eddie thinks, but the house is so… big. Like there should be twenty people living here, and not just Steve by himself. Even at the trailer, there's always some kind of noise, the tap dripping, the radiator clicking, the wind making the windows rattle. But the Harrington house is so silent Eddie can hear his own heart beating.

Steve pauses in the doorway, taking a breath that almost echoes in the emptiness, and Eddie’s heart suddenly aches as he thinks about Steve coming home all alone, day after day, night after night. Sitting in the empty loneliness.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly as he follows Steve inside, watching as Steve turns to face him, holding one of Eddie’s bags.

“Yeah?”

Eddie hesitastes for just a moment before he steps forward, shutting the door behind himself, and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck in a tight hug. Steve hugs him back just as desperately, and it’s a little awkward because they’re both carrying Eddie’s bags, and Eddie can’t get as close as he wants to. Which is probably a good thing.

With the door shut, there’s no light in the house at all. It’s pitch dark, but Eddie doesn’t really care. Steve asks if everything is okay, his voice soft and breathy right by Eddie’s ear, and Eddie almost cries. His eyes burn, and he nods for a moment as he swallows, desperate for his voice not to break.

“Yeah.”

They separate after a few moments, slowly, like they don’t really want to let go.

Steve leads Eddie up to the guest room. Shows him how to turn on the shower, adjust the temperature.

When he leaves to take a shower in his own room, Eddie’s body aches. Like Steve’s absence makes him hurt. That’s probably not healthy, he thinks to himself. But when has Eddie ever had healthy habits? And in the grand scheme of things, Eddie doesn’t think a little codependency is the end of the world.

The shower is nice. The water is nice and hot, the water pressure even and hard enough on his back that he relaxes. He watches dry blood and dirt and Upside Down grime wash across the white tile floor and down the drain.

He gets cold when he gets out of the shower and quickly scrubs his hair dry with the towel before he dresses, grabs the bong and lunchbox, and heads downstairs.

Steve is in the kitchen, searching through the fridge, when Eddie gets there. His hair is dripping wet, and the sweater he’s wearing is too big, loose and hanging down to reveal his chest when he bends down.

“You hungry?” Steve asks, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. His eyes glance up and down. Eddie pretends not to notice.

“Maybe a little.”

Steve pulls some Tupperware out of the fridge and sets it on the counter before he reaches back in, looking back at Eddie.

“Did you re-bandage your stitches?”

“Uh, no,” Eddie says. He sets the box and bong on the island, watching as Steve pulls out two cans of Coke. “They’re not bleeding or anything.”

“Should still keep them covered,” Steve says. “So they don’t get caught on your clothes.”

“I don’t have…”

Steve just shakes his head.

“I got it.”

He pulls a first aid kit out from under the sink. Everything looks brand new, except the bottle of painkillers. Eddie leans against the counter as Steve pushes his shirt up, kneeling in front of him and carefully, gently bandaging him up.

Eddie laughs.

“What?” Steve questions, shooting a look up at him.

“Just…” Eddie sighs, looking at the ceiling, wincing as Steve presses medical tape to his skin so it sticks. “Helped prevent the end of the world. Somehow survived. Now I’m… standing in Steve Harrington’s kitchen.”

Steve laughs softly, moving onto Eddie’s other side. There are fewer stitches there, but the skin is all mangled. Steve is so gentle Eddie barely feels it.

“Who would’ve thought?” he says softly. Eddie just hums in response.

They’re eye to eye when he stands up. Eddie can’t tell which of them is taller. Steve’s eyes catch on his cheek, and he puts his fingers to Eddie's jaw, gently making him turn his face. Before Eddie can say anything, Steve is finding an ointment in the first aid kid and smearing it carefully over his cheek before he murmurs, “Tilt your chin up,” and Eddie looks up at the ceiling. Steve’s fingers press ointment over the injury on his neck. That one isn’t that bad, but Steve is still careful, almost tender. He bandages his cheek next, his teeth caught between his teeth and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie takes the ointment when he’s done and wordlessly touches the underside of Steve's chin, making him look up so Eddie can do the same to his neck.

“When did you take the painkillers at the hospital?” Steve asks as they settle on the sofa.

“Uh.” Eddie hesitates, crossing his legs as he sorts out the weed. “Maybe two hours ago? Ish?”

“Think they have you to four to six hour ones,” Steve says. “Should last a while. If you need more in a few hours tell me.”

“Might not need ‘em,” Eddie says as he works. “If this works.”

Steve leans back against the armrest of the sofa and pops open a Coke as Eddie smokes, the empty house filling with the sound of the bong bubbling. He holds the smoke in his lungs until it burns, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to blow the smoke at the ceiling.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts, and Eddie grins, opening his eyes to pass him the bong and the lighter.

“What would happen if your parents walked in right now?” Eddie asks, watching Steve he takes a hit, and Steve coughs, laughing as he blows the smoke out.

“They’d lose their shit,” he says, grinning. “Don’t know what they’d be more upset about, that I’m smoking weed or that I’m getting high with Eddie fuckin’ Munson.”

Eddie laughs, almost giggling, like it’s a compliment.

Steve takes another hit, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales, and Eddie watches raptly, like he’s studying him.

Slowly, the pain in Eddie’s waist subsides, and he relaxes into the sofa, staring at Steve as they pass the bong and lighter back and forth, as they nibble at the fruit from the fridge, as they sip their Cokes. Eddie doesn’t even really know what they’re talking about anymore, but Steve is smiling, so it doesn’t matter.

The room is a little brighter when Steve smiles. Eddie’s eyes are stuck.

“You’re so annoying,” he says. Steve’s smile broadens, and he snorts.

“What the fuck did I do?”

Eddie huffs, taking a hit, watching Steve. He’s leaning against the back of the sofa now, slumping. His hair is almost dry, frizzy and wavier than Eddie expected.

“You’re so perfect,” Eddie complains, mentally cursing his lack of filter when he’s high. “Even in school, fucking… Golden boy Steve Harrington.”

Steve snorts, laughing quietly, childishly. Eddie likes seeing him like this. Relaxed, his brain quiet.

“Not so perfect anymore,” Steve says softly, still smiling.

“No,” Eddie disagrees. “Still perfect.” Steve rolls his head on the back of the sofa to look at him. Eddie nods. “Golden boy, perfect golden boy.”

Steve is smiling. His cheeks are flushed but Eddie can’t tell if it’s because of the weed or not.

“I mean seriously,” he says, because he can never shut up. It’s part of his charm. (Or lack thereof.) “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

Steve giggles.

Eddie passes him the bong and drains his Coke while he takes a hit.

“What do you think of when you look at me?” he asks as Steve blows smoke at the ceiling.

Steve looks at him, his eyes glassy.

“Don’t know,” he says softly. “‘S not really… like.” He takes a breath. “An image. I guess. Like, I see your face, but when I think about you, ‘s more of like…” He looks at the ground, his mouth twisting as he thinks. “A feeling.”

Eddie looks at him, his breath catching in his throat.

“What kind of feeling?” he asks, taking the bong from him. Steve barely seems to notice, looking at the ground. He’s quiet, his lips almost curved into a smile.

“Don’t know. Kinda… In my stomach,” Steve says quietly, almost mumbling. Eddie listens closely. “‘Nd my… my chest.” He runs his hand over his chest, over his heart. Eddie lowers the bong to his lap, his eyes following the movement. “Like a twisty kinda feeling.”

“Like you’re sick?” Eddie questions. Steve takes another breath.

“Kinda,” he says softly. “But like… a good sick. Like a…” He gestures vaguely with his hand, his fingers moving. “Like a fluttery sick.”

“Like… butterflies?” Eddie asks quietly.

“…Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, raising his eyebrows.

“Sounds like you gotta crush on me, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, still staring at the ground, and Eddie wonders if he heard him, before Steve blinks and his face shifts. Hardens. His brows furrow slightly like he’s thinking, and then his eyes widen and he looks at Eddie.

Oh.

“Steve?” Eddie asks quietly, looking at him, and Steve looks away sharply, the hand that touched his chest reaching for his hair.

“Shit.”

He gets up, and Eddie’s eyes widen, and this must be the actual Upside Down, because Eddie’s world has been flipped over. The ugly paintings on the walls all fall to the ceiling, and the burnt wood in the fireplace falls up the chimney, and Steve doesn’t notice.

“Shit,” he says again. He’s pulling at his own hair, pacing across the room. “Shit.”

Eddie follows him up, putting the bong on the ground and dropping the lighter. It bounces off the carpet and lands under the sofa.

“Steve,” he says, reaching for his shoulder. “Hey.”

Steve turns when he pulls at his shoulder, and Eddie looks into his red-rimmed, teary eyes.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, pulling Steve closer. He reaches for the hand in his hair, gently pulling it away. “It’s okay.”

“‘M sorry,” Steve chokes, breathing hard, and Eddie shakes his head, reaching to hold Steve’s face.

“Don’t be,” he says softly, smiling. “Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. Breathe, Stevie.”

Steve inhales deeply, looking anxiously between Eddie’s eyes. Eddie nods.

“It’s okay,” he says when Steve exhales slowly. His thumbs brush over Steve’s cheeks.

“Eddie,” Steve says weakly. Eddie pulls his face forward and kisses his forehead gently.

“‘S okay,” he murmurs.

When he pulls away Steve’s eyes are closed, and Steve’s hands find him, hesitant and gentle and soft on his waist like he’s scared Eddie’s going to fight him off. Eddie steps closer.

“I like you too,” he says softly. Steve’s eyes flutter open and find Eddie’s.

“What?” he asks breathlessly, his eyes shining again, filling with tears.

“I have a crush on you,” Eddie says quietly, slowly. “Like a huge, debilitating crush.”

Steve’s eyes unfocus, trained on Eddie’s mouth like he’s trying to find the words written in the air between them.

“Really?” he asks so quietly Eddie almost can’t hear him.

Eddie grins.

“Really really. Like, since high school.”

“Woah,” Steve breathes. Slowly, his hands find Eddie’s cheeks, gentle over the bandage that Eddie forgot about, gentle over his skin. Eddie's eyes flutter shut when Steve leans closer, sighing when their lips brush, and then they’re kissing. It’s a brief kiss, soft and tentative and nervous, but Eddie is breathless and almost dizzy when they part.

Eddie pushes his fingers into Steve’s hair, smiling softly when Steve exhales slowly, shakily.

“I think…” Steve starts quietly, his forehead resting on Eddie’s. “…I may be too high for this.”

Eddie giggles quietly.

“We can talk tomorrow,” he whispers softly. Steve hums, tilting his head and closing his eyes.

“Kiss me again?” Steve murmurs, nudging their noses together.

“Thought you were too high for this,” Eddie breathes. He’s just as high as Steve is. The room is spinning a little bit.

“I know, I just…” Steve stops, swallowing and licking his lips and looking at Eddie with a desperation in his eyes that makes Eddie ache. “I just want…”

Eddie kisses him. Hard, and lingering, just a firm press of his lips to Steve’s, and a soft whimper escapes Steve’s throat, his hands tightening on Eddie.

Eddie kisses him again when they part, tilting his head, and then again, and again until Steve feels like he’s about to fall over, leaning against Eddie heavily.

“Woah,” Steve says again, his arms now around Eddie’s waist. Eddie grins, pushing his hair back.

He pulls Steve into a tight hug, gentle over his bandaged sides, and Steve presses his face into Eddie’s neck, taking a heavy breath. Eddie tugs him over to the sofa, and it takes them a moment to get situated, finding a position that doesn’t strain Eddie’s stitches, that doesn’t put weight on their sides. Eddie ends up on top of Steve, his head on his chest, Steve’s hand tracing over his back and slowly dragging through his tangled curls. Eddie holds his other hand and presses kisses to his knuckles before he holds his hand to his face.

And Eddie falls asleep, excited, for the first time in many long years, for the sun to rise.

[good-beans]

Is it just me, or does it look like Fuuta is wearing a jacket in the pv shot?

It does!! (This may or may not have motivated me to finally combine/clean up the shot). I really thought it was his uniform jacket, but this ask made me realize that certain lines could be tracing his Bring it On jacket pattern 👀 Such a simple thing changes the vibe a lot -- the former feels more restrictive since he's in the full uniform, while the latter feels a lot more invasive since he's in his casual street clothes, as if he was really ripped right from his ordinary life...

There are so many extra lines that don't quite make sense. As I'm posting this I'm even realizing that those lines could be straps connecting to the arm rings. And are those part of the blindfold? The tops of his ears? For a fairly clean image it's still confusing asdfsdfs If anyone wants to try their hand at it be my guest 😂

[shaarlslec]

„Come sit next to me, I promise I will not bite unless you want me to.” with max v x fem! teammate

look at me writing two max's stories already; thank you for your request and the au! let me know if you like it; masterlist here;

from mate to love

short-summary: in which you pretend to despise each other as teammates when in fact none of you does so;

words: 4682 & warnings: mentions of horner and driving for red bull (that's all), also slight sexual innuendos;

„Come sit next to me, I will not bite unless you want me to.” Your teammate spoke into your direction out loud in the conference room not even moments after you walked in, much to every other driver present and the interviewers’ childish amusement – but not to you. 

You heavily rolled your eyes in front of Max as you passed him, giving him the normal sassy attitude that you had been giving him since last year when you two got paired after countless prayers of never being in the same team as Verstappen, “Tell that to the people you are dating, not to your teammate.” You replied, taking your seat in between Daniel and Alex, two chairs away from Max. 

“I am not dating anyone right now – interested?” Max uttered, causing Daniel a chuckle who was the one to take the stand being the one who departed the both of you. 

“You two have not started dating yet?” Daniel entertainingly spoke, glancing at you and then at Max, and then right back at you who was trying to find a comfortable way to lean into the chair pretending to play little to no attention to whatever was being discussed at your right, “Everyone in here is waiting for that to happen!” Ricciardo added, twitching both of his eyebrows into your direction who replied with yet another roll of eyes as your microphone was being fixed before the cameras rolled.  

It was yet another normal post-qualifying conference, the only thing that was different was the fact that most of the questions were addressed to you as it was your home grand-prix weekend. You answered them firm, as you always had done in the past, showing little to no enthusiasm at the teasing regarding your rivalry with Max who has been winning the last couple of races since the season has started with you being on the podium next to him most of the times, except for the ones where either Ferrari or Mercedes outraced you. 

“Do you think that Max will grant you any favors tomorrow?” One of the interviewers asked with curious eyes switching in between you and your teammate. This one question made your blood boil, and yet you knew that giving an out of the pocket answer will cause PR problems, driving for Red Bull at such high stake as this season also meant not causing any PR problems, amongst all the other things that you were subjugated to. 

“I don’t need any favors from Max or anyone else.” You replied with a short grin as you side-eyed Max, “Starting from the front row means a lot for this particular race, and I feel confident enough with the racing pace of the car that I can pull one or two moves in front of my teammate.” You cockily added, watching Max’s short smile spreading on the man’s face causing you to smile as well – nothing droved Max more than being challenged by you lately.

“Max, any comments on that?” The interviewer pleasantly inquired, all eyes on your teammate now. 

“I cannot wait to see her try.” He replied as the grin got wider while looking at you rather than at anyone else, “Competition can be good within the team more than the one outside of it, and I have been enjoying that lately.” Verstappen spoke, catching a glance of your own look on him now. 

The conference ended after quite a few questions were passed to the other drivers, and when it was time for you to stand up from your seat and return to the accommodation, Daniel’s inquiring look stopped you from doing so.

“What?” You laughed, watching the one with whom you got the most along with within the grid smiling at you from head to toes, “Did I say something funny?” 

Daniel declined with a nod, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Verstappen was meters enough away from you two, “No, I was just thinking about how easy you and Max can be over the whole “pretending not to like each other” phase if one of you would just go for it for real.” The McLaren driver commented, throwing you a sly little wink. 

“What do you mean by go for it, Dan?” You inquired, walking now side by side with Daniel as you were getting out the conference room behind Max, Alex and Lando who were engaged in a nonsense conversation about bevers. 

“I meant fucking, Y/N.” Daniel leaned close to your ear for the boys ahead not to hear bits and parts of your conversation as you were hearing theirs. 

You shook your head after having a good laugh, “The idea of me and Max sleeping with each other made you smile?” You inquired with your finger pointed to the man’s face, “You need to go and have a check-up here, sweetheart.” You amusingly demanded with yet another chuckle, tapping Daniel’s head twice before Max’s turned on one of his heels to you and two. 

“Walk with me to the garage, Y/N?” Max questioned, walking now backwards to catch your full attention without stopping your steps.

The laughs that Daniel caused you stopped, “No, thank you.” You shortly replied with a hasty nod, “I have to go meet someone for lunch before our meet, see you there, mate.” You added, gently caressing Daniel shoulder as a goodbye before taking a left turn as you three exited the building, leaving Max and Daniel taking one last look at your back before you took the next corner happily jumping on your feet to go.

“You know that adding a “please” to your invitations from time to time might convince her.” Daniel teased his ex-teammate, watching Max’s eyes still fixed on the corner after which you disappeared.   

“Who the hell is she so excited about meeting?” Max inquired Daniel, not even listening to the man’s last words, “I have never seen her so excited about going to meet people before, she hates people.” Max mumbled, much to Daniel’s amusement who decided that this was the perfect time to mess with Max.

“Probably the guy she has been seeing for the last couple of weeks.” Daniel nonchalantly replied as his shoulder shrugged, “I heard she invited him today – they used to be together in high-school or something.” Daniel added, greeting Max with a short wave of hands before leaving for his own garage, “Oh, and she does not hate people Max.” Daniel shouted back to him, snatching Max from whatever he was calculating in the back of his mind, “She just pretends to do so.” Daniel articulated with a loud click of tongue, before completely turning his back on Max on his way to McLaren’s accommodations.

There was no guy that you have been seeing for the last couple of weeks, and there was no high-school crush who was attending your home race that weekend. Daniel just loved to mess around with Max, and the Australian knew that Max would catch the bait in no time as everyone on the grid knew how close you and Daniel were since karting days, no one could have questioned the fact that you talk about your personal life with him.

Max went back to the Red Bull station afterwards, thinking about Daniel’s words as he signed autographs or took photos with the people that stopped him on the way to the team meeting. Each time he would sign anything that was related to you too, such as a cap or a t-shirt, Max could not stop looking around the groups of people that were ambushing him thinking that maybe, just maybe, he will be able to spot you with the guy Daniel told him about.

Mission was not accomplished thought, as you were nothing near the track at the time but outside of it meeting with your very dear best girl friend who passed by to bring you a home-cooked lunch – that was what enthused you that much after the post-qualifying conference. Daniel left Max hanging thinking that there was a man to make your feet dance that happy when it all reality it was all about girl talk and homemade dumplings. Dan’s trick worked tough, Max was now insanely jealous without even realizing it while you were having lunch, making him lose it with all people around him in searching for you. 

You and your friend were hiding in the parking lot in her car far away from prying snooping eyes of your fans, enjoying a short break of what was a packed weekend for you filled with pressure and high expectations. You needed those dumplings, and no one in the world made better dumplings rather that your girl who was now watching you engulfing them whole on the passenger seat. 

“So, about this Max guy.” Your friend spoke causing you a choke while watching you dreadfully glaring at her as you just told her that you wanted to talk about quite literally anything aside of the track and that you needed your mind off racing for a short while to fully enjoy the lunch, “No, no, no.” She laughed as she took another bite of the food, “I am not going to ask you something Formula 1 related,” Your friend paused watching you roll your eyes at her, “I was just curios what he has been up too – we two have not talked for a while about him.” 

“He is Formula 1 related.” You interrupted while pointing your fork at her, “Why is everyone asking me about Max today, even Dan did so a couple of minutes ago.” You huffed, sitting back into the passenger seat with your eyes closed, “He just told me that I might find Max a little bit less annoying if I fuck him.” You breathed opening one of your eyes to watch your friend giving you the same exact look as Daniel, “Not you too – please.” 

“I am not saying that you just straight up fuck him, I am just saying that he is the one you talked about the most in the past year and a half and it has been a while since the last time I heard you talking about a guy in such a feisty manner.” She commented, eyes on you and all, “Maybe this Daniel is right, you should go for it. It has been scenically proven that sleeping around with your co-workers helps with the work environment stress.” She added with both eyebrows twitched up like a pervert.   

You straightened your back, “I am only talking about him because he is annoying the hell out of me and beca—” 

“You might have a crush on him?” She interrupted, giggly looks and rubbing shoulders with you.

“I don’t have a crush on him, Max annoys me.” You muttered, only half-believing your own words. 

“When was the last time when you were into a guy who was not annoying you?” She questioned with the eyebrows still up, “This is how you liked it – tempting, burning, teasing, annoying.” 

You breathed, there was no way in which you could have counterattack your friend’s argument as she knew you the best. It was exactly like that, all the time. You picked the most soul-sucking, heart-breaking, mind-twisting type of men to date. It never turned out right, so why would you even consider going for that same type again? No. Max Verstappen was out of the question, you only had to race with and against him – no fucking happening. 

You returned to the Red Bull accommodation after your short lunch break, and once your eyes laid on Max, you felt your stomach turned upside down as it always has done when Max lionlike stare was focused on you.

Fuck, oh fuck.

You gulped, deciding to blame the dumplings and not the feelings this time. You quietly took your seat next to him, both of you watching and listening to your strategist revising the plans for tomorrow and all the scenarios that might play out during the race, and all the positions you were to play in each on them. Max was the favorite, as he had always been – and yet, you did not mind.

You knew how good he was on track, and that everyone cheered for him to win this championship too. You stood quietly and listened, the scenarios in which you would have been victorious tomorrow were little, but they did give you hope for what was about to come. 

“Save me a spot on the podium for tomorrow, mate.” Max spoke into your direction at the end of the meeting, throwing you one of his silly winks that you never quite got what was so attractive about them. 

You laughed at the use of “mate”, Verstappen never called you like that before and you were wondering what happened for him to use that, “It might be my home race, but you are still the favorite for the win, Max.” You added as you leaned your chin on one of your palms, looking at him with a titled head into the boy’s direction, “Just a warning tough for tomorrow, I am not going to switch positions if they asked me to.” You threated with a short smile, remembering the last two times when you got the call of letting Max pass during the end of some of your races where you could have easily taken the trophy instead of Max.

“That’s good to know, racing against you will make it even more exciting.” Max agreed with a nod, following your example suit and leaning towards you in the same manner with one arm resting on the table, “Would you switch positions if I were the one to ask you?” Max teased, both knowing that you were not taking about racing anymore. 

“That was such a corny and lame little line.” You added, two of your fingers shakily touching the bottom of your lips as you were maintaining the eye contact with Max. 

Max chuckled, “Yet, it worked – right?” He spoke, lifting from his seat in such a fashion only to lean towards you more in doing so. You shook your head; Max was getting on your other type of nerves now and you were vehemently so helplessly tried to not let that be seen. 

The next day’s race went great for both you and Max, Red Bull was in the first two positions followed by Leclerc, and then Sainz followed by Russell and Lando. You were behind Max who was taunting you as he was pushing even further ahead of you by two to three seconds during the last fifteen laps of the race.

You were not to give up, especially with all the energy that you have gathered from that morning by all the people present shouting and yelling your name, rotting for you to bring your second home trophy back where it belonged as last year you pulled a surprise for everyone present winning P1.

Your focus was Max, and although your radio was filled with your engineer voice telling you to take it slow as you needed to preserve the tires up until the end of the race and that the distance that you put behind you and Leclerc was safe for now for your podium, you pushed harder and harder as laps went by – you were not to be satisfied with only the podium this time.  

Max was happily grinning underneath the helmet once he has been announcing that you were only 0.5 seconds behind him now during the last four laps of the race. It was finally time for something fun to happen for him on this race. Three laps went fast with you overtaking him once you got into the DRS zone but being caught right immediately by him milliseconds after your success.

Max was not letting you catch a breath in the last lap as you were chasing him, but neither were you thinking about letting him have an easy win. None of you were listening to your engineers anymore in the last lap, and right after your cars slightly touched as you were trying to pass him in one of the corners, everyone in your team was with their fingers tightly clasped together praying for a crash not to happen seconds before the checked flag.

You disobeyed the orders’ team of slowing down, while Max was not even listening anymore to whatever his own race engineer was advising him – it was only you and Max, equally racing against each other in the last moments of the race. Cars were pushed to the limit, and so were both of you. Before the checked flag, there was a straight line and right there your front wings touched side by side as you were pushing to pass Max and he was trying to maintain the lead position. 

It was a photo finish, you two passing by the checked flag almost exactly at the same time – but with you being 0.012 seconds faster than Verstappen. 

“P1 Y/N, P1!” Your engineer loudly shouted to the radio, “You were faster than Max, but fuck never make us go through this ever again.” He then spoke, and you felt your heart bursting out of your chest with every second that passed until you reached the P1 position with your car, getting out of it to celebrate a hell of a win that was. 

“P2 Max, you are P2.” GP spoke into Verstappen’s radio, “Congrats champ, those were five amazing last laps.” 

“Y/N made them five amazing last laps.” Verstappen replied with a smile on his face, not even bitter about losing the main position to you in such a fashion, “Don’t scold us too much when we are out of the cars – that was a great show for the fans.” He then chuckled, and it was perhaps for the very first time when somebody had ever heard Max genuine laughing after a loss of points. 

The aftermath of the race was insane, you have never heard that many people clapping for you through your whole career. You enjoyed all the greets, slaps on your back, and hugs from the members of your teams and the other drivers after you got out of your car to celebrate the win.

Max’s way of congratulating you took you completely by surprise as he went out of his way to get out of his car in the P2 position and surprise you with a huge embrace, ungluing your feet from the ground and spinning you once in the air as your legs instinctively wrapped around the man’s waist in front of everybody to witness. Both of your helmets were still on, luckily enough for both of you that they were – everybody would have witnessed rosy cheeks too instead of just a spin. 

During the podium you kept glancing at each other, Leclerc and the other people on the podium with you feeling a little suspicious of the whole glaring at each other thing with huge smiles and burned faces being in the same spot as you and Max, pretending not to get you two all figured out right then and there.

Daniel clicked his tongue again as he was watching through the screen with Lando by his side, “These two really need to get at it right immediately.” He commented in loud voice, “I told Max that Y/N is seeing somebody yesterday, and now look at him now all smiley after she defeated him – there is something in there, I tell you.” 

Lando laughed at his side, “You are now finding out?” The British spoke in a mocking tone towards his teammate, “Max has a crush on Y/N since they were like fourteen.” Lando uttered waiting for Daniel’s eyes to widened in surprise, “Don’t look at me like that, you are not the only one to whom the Red Bull drivers come for love advice.” Lando blinked with one hand at his chest, watching you and Max getting down from the podium talking about the size of your trophies and childishly laughing at some sort of a joke. 

“Yours is big too.” You laughed, grabbing the trophy in Max’s hands with one of yours as you wrapped your fingers at the base of it, “Some will say that it is too small, but I think that for some people it is the right size.” You added, looking up at a very cheeky post-race Max whose hair was sweaty and face red part from the effort in the race, part from your silly dick jokes that made a grown-up blush. 

“If you think this is big enough, you should see my other trophies.” He then teased, making you burst into laughing once again. 

It was nice, that was nice. Laughing around each other like foolish teenagers at penis innuendos instead of pretending to hate each other just for the thrill of your rivalry and for the sake of hiding what everyone around you was pretty much aware of – your mutual crushes.

You two would have wished for this type of a thing to become a common habit, only if you were not to be grounded to the reality in no time after the post-race interviews where you were called for the debrief of the race. 

“You two should not have acted like brats in the last couple of laps.” Horner loudly spoke as he smashed the table in front of both of you with both hands, “We can let you race, but not when you are putting both cars and you in the danger of a possible crash.” He then emphasized with pressed words that spitted at the end of his tongue, looking over his shoulder where the last laps played in front of you two to see how close you really were during the overtakes, “And you should have not let her pass.” He then uttered, pointing to Verstappen. 

It clicked for you right then and there. Being caught amid the celebration after the race, you were not thinking even in the million years that the likelihood of Verstappen being the one to slow down for you to win as even a thing, “You let me pass?” You inquired; your neck dry now as your voice intoned the words. 

“No, fuck no.” Verstappen defended with a serious look on his face, “When have you ever seen me letting someone willingly pass me?” He then commented, turning his glare from you to Christian, “You should look over the analysis once again with all due respect, Y/N won fair and square.” He then ended with pressed lips, “I jus—” 

Verstappen words were interrupted by the loudness of your chair being pushed back, “I am sorry Christian, but I cannot listen to this discussion now.” You muttered with a shake of your head, “Fine me or whatever – I am leaving.” You announced, already storming out of the meeting room and back into your motorhome. 

“Fuck it; Christian.” Max almost yelled, going right immediately after you to calm you down, “Choose your fucking words better next time.” He then warned, slamming the door shut before running to you as he called your name down the halls, receiving no response from your angry self now up to the point you could not stand anyone around you curiously looking at a very worried Max chasing you. 

“You let me pass?” You inquired him once you dragged his wrist into one empty room of the Red Bull garage, “What Horner just said – it is true?” You asked Max, hands still tightly wrapped around the man’s wrist. 

“No, he got it all wrong.” Max firmly replied, one of his hands covering yours who was grabbing into him, “You were faster, you passed me, you won.” Max reassured you, unclasping your hand from him to hold it steadfastly into his, relaxed your muscles one by one with the man’s touch. 

“I need to look over your analysis during the race to believe you, mate.” You added as your stiffen expressions softened, “Do you understand how humiliating it would be for me to win this type of race only because my teammate let me do so?” You inquired while looking down at your and Max’s clasped hands that you tried to unglue but being forced not to by the man’s strength.

“I did not let you win, trust me when I tell you not to believe Horner’s words.” Max spoke in all sincerity, “Also, stop calling me “mate” – I fucking hate it, Y/N.” Your teammate then sighed, one of his fingers rubbing the back of your hand now in not-so-much-friendly type of way but in the want-to-be-more-than-just-friends type of a feeling. 

Your heart sunk due to the small touch, “What term would you prefer then?” You shyly asked, not trying to get your hand out of his anymore but just caving in the warmness of the touch. 

“I do not know that yet, but I have never heard you calling other drivers that. Daniel gets called “sweetheart” and I get “mate”? Verstappen articulated glare now on you, shaking you whole as you depicted the man’s jealousy into his eyes. 

You laughed, “Sweetheart is a term I use for my friends, I do not want you to be my friend like Daniel is, Max.” You added, taking one step closer to him now and guiding his arm around your waist with the one hand that was still into his. 

Verstappen has not moved an inch after your swift move. Even so, your teammate dared to grab even tighter your waist and to release your hand that was then comfortably sat on one of his shoulders while the tips of your fingers were touching his jawline, “What about love?” You teased, watching Max’s eyes broadened in a pleasant surprise. 

Max shyly giggled like a teenage boy, “What about your boyfriend?” He then added, “Would he be not pissed that you are calling another man that?” Max inquired, while the arm that was holding your waist pushed you into climbing the table behind you that up until then you did not even notice being there in the first place. 

“What boyfriend?” You confusedly inquired with Verstappen now fully in between your legs and both of your hands around your teammate’s neck, “I am not seeing anyone.” You explained, and that is when it clicked for Verstappen that Daniel was messing with his head the day prior. 

“I am going to kill Daniel.” Max then laughed before leaning in towards you for a much-awaited clasps of mouths. 

Both of Max’s hands went from your waist to your face, not wanting to waste any second of that kiss without touching your skin rather than the fabric of your racing suit. You laughed into the kiss, thinking about the fact that the racing suits are harder to be pulled down than normal clothes. 

“What?” Verstappen spoke inches away from your lips, breathing heavily right next to your mouth. 

“Nothing.” You replied as your hand went on the edges of the Max’s fireproof blouse, “I was just thinking that this is a little bit harder to take off.” You added with a short grin, placing your hand on the man chest now as you were looking at him. 

Max laughed after another short peak, “Let’s make a challenge out of it – who gets it down faster.” He then spoke, watching over his shoulder as two knocks were hitting the door from the other side, “Not here tough, we don’t have to give the team yet another reason to scold us.” 

You giggled too as Max made you room to get down from the table, “Everything has to be a competition to you, right?” You teased, arranging your hair and your suit for whoever was behind the door not to notice, but your rosy cheeks giving you two away anyway. 

“You are the one to make whatever competition even more interesting, love.” Max replied, his fingers brushing yours right before he went to unlock the door.  

[thetomorrowshow]

in which jimmy commits a crime and does not care

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this little story is set maybe 14 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’? idk but it’s a while in the future

fluff??? in MY esh au?? it’s more likely than you think

~

Scott’s woken every morning by the sound of their neighbor’s obnoxious Mercedes revving. If you have a six-in-the-morning engagement every single day, wouldn’t you think to be a bit more considerate of your neighbors and not destroy their ears when you pull out of the driveway?

Jimmy, of course, sleeps through it half the time. And when he does, Scott whacks him with a pillow until he wakes up, bleary and confused. He always stays awake to listen to Scott rant about it, a well-deserved rant, as he settles in with all of the blankets wrapped around him, content to watch Scott pace through half-open eyes. Jimmy usually falls back asleep about halfway through, and Scott doesn’t notice until he turns to see that Jimmy’s not only stolen all of the blankets, but all of the pillows as well, and is sleeping so soundly that Scott can’t bear to wake him. Most of the time. Other times, he pulls the blankets off until Jimmy wakes up again, whining and making grabby hands for the blankets. Then he continues his rant, Jimmy huffing and grumbling.

This pattern goes on for weeks, and Scott finds himself daydreaming about the neighbor losing their job. His only respite comes on weekends, when he can sleep in as long as he wants (but not past eight, because he does still have a job to do).

Then even that is stolen from him, when one Saturday morning at 6:06am, Scott hears that accursed engine revving.

“Devil’s number,” he breathes as he stares at his blue alarm clock, and Jimmy snorts sleepily.

“Wha’s he doin’? ‘S Saturday,” Jimmy mumbles, rolling over to rest his head on Scott’s shoulder. Scott can’t tear his eyes from the alarm clock, glaring at it even as the sound of the Mercedes rumbling by (and shaking their house in the process) fades.

Scott shakes his head slowly. “I’m going to frame that man for murder,” he decides. “Then he’ll be carted off to jail and we’ll never have to hear that stupid car ever again.”

Jimmy yawns. “You do that. I’mma sleep.”

It is entirely unfair, in Scott’s opinion, that Jimmy can just go back to sleep. He pokes Jimmy between the ribs, then again and again, until Jimmy groans and kicks him.

“Stoppit, I’m tryna sleep.”

“You’re not going to leave me to suffer alone, are you? My beloved boyfriend, abandoning me in my time of need?”

“Scott.”

Scott presses a kiss to Jimmy’s nose, giggles when he squirms away, swatting at him. He hasn’t forgotten his plans, though. He’s going to do something about that car.

It turns out he doesn’t have to, though, because when he wakes at 6am on Monday, already tensed, waiting for the sound of the loudest car in the universe, nothing happens. He waits ten minutes for good measure, then nudges Jimmy.

���What is it?” Jimmy jolts awake, hands twitching. He relaxes after a moment, snuggling into Scott’s chest. “Hm. Woke up quick today. What’s up?”

“The car,” Scott whispers. Jimmy frowns, yawns.

“What about it?”

Scott can barely believe it when he tells Jimmy, “It didn’t make a sound this morning. Nothing. Sweet silence.”

Jimmy doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when he speaks, his words are carefully measured—not that Scott notices, too caught up in shock.

“Wow. Some sort of . . . accident . . . must have happened to that car. Weird.”

And it is weird, Scott realizes later that morning, when he sees the hood of the Mercedes propped open and their neighbor growing increasingly frustrated, face smeared with oil and soot.

He doesn’t dwell on it for long, though, happy to accept the outcome with no explanation. And somehow, he never quite seems to catch Jimmy’s self-satisfied smirk over his morning tea as he, too, watches the neighbor work.

[parachutingkitten]

Skybound Scene Rewrite, but there are actual character arcs and themes that follow through and stuff

Aka, the lighthouse scene: Bad Ending

The heavy evening air came in warm and salty from the windows. They both knew a battle was imminent, but there was nothing left to do but wait.

“I want you to have this.” Jay gingerly handed the full teapot to his companion. “If anything happens to me, use the Traveler's Tea to get yourself out of here. He's convinced he's going to marry you. If that happens, nothing can stop him.”

Nya’s face soured, as she slumped back, hands gripping the strap which now held the tea to her body

Jay’s face puzzled to match her’s, trying to read her emotions. “Uh...um...you're upset. What did I say?”

Nya sighed. “It's nothing you said. It's just...both of you seem so convinced you see a future with me.”

Jay reached forward to place her hand on her shoulder. “Well, the good news is, we already know which one of us is right.”

Nya jerked herself away, groaning. “You really don’t see that as a problem?”

“What?!” Jay stood back defensively. “It’s not like I’m wrong!”

“Don’t you see how imposing you’re being?!” Nya pleaded with him.

“I’m not being imposing, I’m just stating the facts!” Jay stressed. “I don’t get what I’m doing wrong! Where is all this resistance still coming from?!”

Nya’s eyes narrowed, fiery adrenaline now rushing through her body. “Oh, you’re unsure why the girl you claim ownership of won’t stop resisting you?”

“I get it,” Jay sighed, rolling his eyes. “We had this whole blow out, and you couldn’t choose between me or Cole, you were confused, but it seems that decision is pretty easy to make now, isn’t it?”

“It was never about choosing between you two-”

“Then what was all of this for?!” Jay wave his hands around, his body tensing up again.

“Being able to choose!” Nya screamed back. “To be able to make a choice!”

“Well guess what, your choices are now pretty limited.” Jay narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward. “And I’m the only one you’ve got left, so I don’t know why you’re taking so long to decide.”

“I don’t have to choose you.” Nya folded her arms.

“I don’t think you’re getting it. There’s no point in delaying everything with this defiance period.” Jay continued, exasperated. “I saw the future! You were with me! It’s going to happen!”

“I know!” Nya yelled back, tears beginning to leave her eyes. “I know, I know already! I knew before you did!”

Jay paused, his anger still writhing. “What?”

Nya wiped away tears, her voice lowering. “I knew. I already knew.”

Jay’s face furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean ‘you knew’ you didn’t-”

“You think Zane’s the only one on the team getting visions?!” Nya cut him off. “The universe told me, a long time ago.” She turned her back to him, her shoulders hunching as she held herself. “The night I met you, I had the most vivid dream. So tangible, that I knew it had to be a premonition… and I was with you.”

Jay’s mind raced, struggling to process the new information. “So you knew, the whole time we’ve known each other? Through the dating, and the Cole situation…”

Nya turned back around, but her eyes still refused to look back at him, now swollen and drowning. “You couldn’t talk the day I met you,” she smiled. “So the first time I heard your voice was in that dream.” The tears started to slow as she recalled the memory. “I didn’t recognize where we were, or even really know what it was we were doing, but I remember feeling so happy.”

“That’s all I want.” Jay slowly moved forward, making an attempt to grab her hands. “I just want you to be happy.”

Nya ripped her arm back, wiping away more tears. “No you don’t, Jay.” She shook her head. “You want you to be happy. And you think you need me for that to happen.”

Jay thought for a moment, still uncertain what all of this meant. “You said you were happy in the dream. Doesn’t that mean you’d be happy with me?”

“You know what, maybe one day I would be, Jay,” she shrugged. “But even if I do end up with you eventually, and it does make me happy, you know what I know for sure?” her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “You don’t make me happy right now.”

“Nya-”

“I’m serious!” she snapped back, straightening up. “I don't care what the future holds, you're asking me to be in a relationship with you right now, and that is not something I want right now. I don't know how you can't get that through your head."

"And, what? I'm just supposed to wait around for you to change your mind someday for some undiscernible reason?"

"You're supposed to stop! I hate being around you when you’re all starstruck and pushy like this. I hate the way you look at me. I hate having to endure all your endless attempts to impress me, and I hate having to pretend like it didn’t happen, or be seen as the jerk for pointing it out! And I hate having to tell you no, repeatedly, constantly, in as many ways as I can think to, only for you to ignore it, and continue to treat me like a video game you just haven’t figured out how to win yet!” Nya’s rage faded, a few more tears falling down her cheeks. “I hate being around you, and as much as you might feel you need me, I do not want you.”

Jay stood there, unable to accept the words being thrown at him, but unable to rebuke them either.

“And you know what?” a strict confidence entered Nya’s voice as she moved closer. “The man I knew in the dream would have respected that. He would have stepped away a long time ago. So, if you can’t do that-” her finger pushed forward, resting on his chest as her eyes stared sharply down into his, delivering with them a certainty of her words. “Then you are not the man I marry.”

[mistresslrigtar]

Flash one-shot I just posted on AO3. Happy Saturday Night! Enjoy!

Summary: Zelda tasks Link with the daunting task of building her secret study, but all he really wants to do is take a break

Snippet: “Take a quick lunch with me and I promise to go straight back to work.” Deciding to not take no for an answer, Link began climbing the rusted ladder. He made a mental note to be sure to sand and oil the rungs and poles so Zelda could use the ladder without fear of injury.

When he reached the top, Zelda stood with arms akimbo, a stern look upon her face. “It is nowhere near lunch time.”

“Second breakfast then.” Link doggedly climbed over the side of the well, avoiding the piercing look that he knew accompanied her next vexing remark.

“Need I remind you, we are not Hobbits, Link.”

Written for my friend, @cjracingpnf . I hope you enjoy!

[fadefromthelight]

cold rain on a battered window

Akihiko just holds Shinjiro tighter. Water pools on the floor, cold as it drips down his skin.

Shinjiro sighs. "What were you doin' out? I thought you turned in for the night."

"It was raining," Akihiko says into Shinjiro's shoulder, his voice shaking ever-so-slightly. He hopes that it isn't enough for Shinjiro to pick up on.

"So?" Shinjiro moves whatever is in the pot around. Akihiko can feel his shoulders shift against his chest. "It does that sometimes."

"It's nice to run in." It doesn't feel like a proper explanation for everything. But the words catch in his throat as thunder cuts through the quiet sound of something sizzling in oil.

Read on: Ao3