#posting this is probably a bad idea but the notes on that post are such a horrid mess i feel like i'm going insane

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo)

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired word count: 3.7k warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[giuseppe-yuki]

birthday celebration?

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: suggestive material, curse words, danica patrick (?), sassy and jimmy slander (sorry i love them irl i promise)

part of my money, money, money!universe

summary: yesterday was max's birthday. the press wants to know: you guys went all out to celebrate, right?

a/n: so yesterday was actually my birthday 🤭 i tried my best to post this before it hit 12 as a birthday treat for y'all, but it didn't really work out... consider this a late birthday post + max 4 wdc celebration :)

p.s. this is NOT the money, money, money spinoff that i promised- i'm working on that i swear🤞🥲

picture credits from pinterest :)

to say the driveway up to the gala building was crowded was an understatement. if you looked out the window of the very expensive rolls royce you were currently seated in, you could spot at least five rosso corsa ferraris and like, three jet black lamborghinis within a meter from you. to be honest, you had to give props to your private driver, daniil, because there was no way you could have strategically maneuvered the car onto the jam-packed road without causing a rather exorbitant pileup of supercars. next to you, on the plush leather seats, was your boyfriend in his freshly pressed, custom fitted suit that you had your assistant buy just for the event. he sits there politely with his hands folded together, wide blue eyes blinking at you innocently. he looked mighty handsome, and if you weren’t currently sitting in a car with a billion cars, paparazzi, and influential figures right outside, you certainly would have done some not-so-appropriate things to max right then and there.

instead of doing said things and traumatizing your poor private driver, you quickly glance at your phone. 

a bold 5:10 flashes across the screen, in front of your lockscreen of max curled up in bed with jimmy and sassy. 

shit. 

you were scheduled to do some press stuff outside the event around 5:20, and had to be inside by 5:45. if the queue of cars of ahead of you didn’t hurry up, you would probably be late, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the ceo of redbull herself was late to her own redbull gala. 

max, like the sweet, observant boyfriend that he is, peers down at his own phone, notes the time, then tilts his head at you. 

“do you want to just run up to the entrance?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “i’m sure it’s not too far, and i don’t want you to be late for your pr stuff!” 

that didn’t sound like a bad idea. 

after notifying daniil, you and max slip out of the vehicle, much to the surprise of the people in the cars around you. once you squeeze out of the crowd of exotic cars onto the sidewalk, max takes your hand and bolts his way towards the grandly decorated stairs of the gala in the distance. 

unfortunately, you might have misjudged the distance to the entrance, because you both end up a little moist from sweat by the time your heeled feet reach the red carpet-lined stone stairs that lead up to open double doors- the entrance to the gala. lining the stairs are multiple cameras and interviewers, met-gala style. you are sure these are the pr interviews that your assistant was talking about, judging by the sprinkle of red-bull sponsored athletes chit-chatting to a few press members along the stairs and groups of photographers sending off bright flashes with their high-tech cameras. to your right, a man you recognize as sergio perez nods slowly as his interviewer animatedly gestures to a picture of sergio diving into what looks like a pool with a mexican flag wrapped around him. directly in front of you stands daniel ricciardo posing in different silly positions, much to the delight of the gossip magazine paparazzis that were probably having a field day photographing him. next to you, max ecstatically pulls on your dress and points to your left to the esports content creator, ludwig, who laughs loudly to your left as he banters with an excited looking man with a rather large microphone in hand. you haven’t really looked into ludwig’s content, but you often saw max watching his streams while you were in your online meetings, so if he liked ludwig, you guess you did too. 

you attempt to quickly pull max towards the top of the stairs towards the entrance to the gala in an effort to completely avoid doing your media duties, but you are unfortunately stopped within the next twenty seconds by your own interviewer, a lady in the brightest pink outfit you had ever seen in your life.

“heLLO!” the lady says rather enthusiastically. “danica patrick, reporting for tmz!”

“er, hi!” you respond, a little less enthusiastically. max, half-hidden behind you, gives a light wave to the camera. 

unperturbed, she flashes you both a toothy, unnaturally white smile at you both and places a microphone towards her glossy lips. 

“so, miss redbull ceo! it’s so nice to meet you!” she remarks, “and you look absolutely flawless today!” 

you give her and the camera a tight smile. 

“thank you,” you respond, as if you didn’t have two drops of sweat going down your neck and a slightly dirt-dusted gown from the sprint from your car. 

she nods, and then as if just realizing max’s presence, snatches him out from his half-hidden position behind you. 

“and you!” she exclaims, looking max up and down.  “you must be the boyfriend! max-” she checks her notes- “verstappen! yes, i’ve heard so much about you!” 

your boyfriend blinks at her, nervously twiddling the redbull pin that was pinned to his lapel. 

“okay,” he says after a beat of silence. 

the lady nods, and scribbles something down in her notes as if max had something absolutely life-changing, before turning back to you. 

“so, i’ve received the news that yesterday was max’s birthday,” she proclaims. “and i was just wondering what’d you guys did to celebrate! as a successful ceo, you must have went all out, huh?”

seriously? you think. what of question is this? you get to interview a ceo and this is the best thing you can come up with?

when you hesitate a second before answering, she probes, “rumor has it that you both went to bora bora yesterday...” 

as if it knew that today was your boyfriend’s birthday, the bright rays of the monaco sun shined a golden beam of light straight onto max’s hair, lighting the blondish-brown strands into a little halo around his head. even if it feels like a creep to just stare at his peaceful face, you can’t help but gaze a little too long at his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and light stubble. from the corner of your eye, you can see one of his devilish cats balancing precariously on the bedframe. you clock it as sassy, who you knew, unfortunately from experience, loved to pounce on max’s face in the morning when she was feeling a little hungry. sassy meows at you innocently before proceeding to crouch in a position, ready to pounce. jimmy watches at the end of the bed, doing absolutely nothing as you fight for your life trying to wave sassy away without waking up max. 

like the absolute devil sassy is, she leaps off the bedframe, claws extended, right at max. with your lightning quick reflexes that should earn you a seat in the redbull f1 team that your company sponsors, you snatch the bengal cat out of the air before she gets a chance to maul your boyfriend and send him to the emergency room on his birthday. 

she hisses at you, teeth bared, and you just about catapult her out of the open window next to the bed.

instead, you take a deep breath. you deduce that max probably wouldn’t like to wake up finding out that his cat was a pancake on the streets below his apartment, probably ran over by someone’s ferrari pista. instead, you opt for a less extreme “fuck you,” that you hiss right back at sassy. 

like he sensed someone threatening his baby, your boyfriend shifts around. 

“whadyou say?” max mutters from the pillows behind you.

you whip back to face your boyfriend, simultaneously shoving sassy away from you. 

max rubs his eyes sleepily and uses a hand to block the sun that now shines into his eyes. you try not to stare again at his eyes that light a warm whisky brown in the beams of sunlight that seep through his fingers. it cannot be legal to look this good.

“nothing,” you dismiss. 

leaping forward, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

a surprised look crosses his face, but he leans into your embrace anyways. 

“do you know what day it is, maxie?” you ask, voice a little muffled from being pressed into the crook of his neck. 

max takes a shockingly long time to respond. 

“um… saturday?” he says slowly.

you give him a weird look. 

“well yes…but it’s also your birthday!” you exclaim.

“oh!” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i totally forgot!”

“no way,” you say incredulously.

“yes way,” max replies, tucking you into his side with an arm around you. 

leave it up to your boyfriend to forget his own birthday. 

“well,” you state after a beat of silence of looking at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment. “good thing we still have, like, sixteen hours left to do whatever you want- and we basically have unlimited budget- so go crazy!” 

“hmm,” he says. 

“anywhere you’d like, really- bali, the hamptons, paris, dubai, maldives, bora bora,” you suggest helpfully. “or all of them?”

max thinks for second. 

“how about monaco?”

you blink confusedly. 

“so… right here?” 

“yeah,” he responds. 

you shrug. 

“sure, that’s fine too!”

deborah, or danica, or whatever her name was, babbles on as you and max stand on the stairs awkwardly.

“an inside source has also relayed to us that you might have bought your boyfriend an abt audi rs6, legacy edition for his birthday- an insanely rare and expensive car which only has 200 made in the entire world! 

an abt-legacy what? you can’t help but think, what the hell was that? 

once you get dolled up with your 12-step get-ready process and max pulls on his usual clothes (white shirt + unfortunate-looking skinny jeans), you both hop in max’s trusty little yellow renault clio rs. of course, like the cat lover he was, max refused to accept any expensive material gifts from you, and instead requested to visit the cat shelter as a birthday “gift.” you guess you would probably have to return the tag heuer watch in your bedside drawer that you had gotten him plus the keys to that yacht that was currently sitting in the monaco bay that you thought he would like. 

max whistles a cheerful tune as he types in the cat shelter address onto his phone’s navigation app as you try your best to think of the best way to approach your assistant and tell him to return the yacht that he might have spent the last week negotiating with some old rich prick to buy. his phone makes a small “ding” and prompts him to back out of the tiny garage underneath his apartment, which he does with surprising ease. the ride to the shelter is pretty smooth, except that tiny part where this dumb guy with an all-black ferrari with a red ‘16’ on the side runs the red light, almost t-bones your boyfriend, and then proceeds to stop diagonally in the middle of the road with the most rancid parking job. 

your boyfriend walks into the cat shelter with you in tow. he passes right past the front desk, waves to the man playing sudoku on his phone, and then proceeds navigates the halls like he’s been there a million times. (actually, he might have) you pass row after row of cats in little kennels that your boyfriend somehow knows the names of, before coming to a stop in front of a young lady filling little formula bottles with milk. she has at least three cats worth of cat fur all over her paw-print sweater.

“max!” she remarks, looking a little too thrilled to see him. “how are you? i haven't seen you since, like, last tuesday!” 

looking to you, her smile drops significantly. 

“oh, and… who is this?” 

“hi, i’m max’s girlfriend,” you articulate, answering her question. you reach your hand out to shake, but she pointedly ignores it. 

“great…” she says fakely. “um, so how may i help you guys?” 

max seems to not notice. instead, he has a wide smile pasted on his face. 

“well, it’s actually my birthday today, and i would like to spread kindness by making a donation to my favorite cat shelter!” he announces. 

ten minutes later, you find yourself signing a check that is made out for the ‘monaco meow manor.’ 

max twiddles his pen around his fingers.

“how much should i put it down as?” he asks, pen hovering above the empty line on the check.

you shrug. 

“i don’t know, it’s your birthday, maxie. you choose.” 

the lady who was obviously into max and the sudoku guy at the front eyes the both of you from their place at the front desk. 

you watch as max writes down a 3300 on the piece of paper. he glances at you quickly. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he turns back and adds two more zeroes at the end. but, then he proceeds to place the commas all wrong. 

“that says 3,300,00, max,” you say, pointing to the obviously misplaced commas. 

“oh,” he says. “i can’t really erase it- it’s pen.”

the lady, whose scowl has disappeared, and the guy, who sudoku puzzle has long been abandoned, whips around after hearing this number, jaws dropped. 

ignoring them, you take the pen from max’s hand. 

“here,” you say, adding another neat zero to the end of max’s blocky numbers so it reads 3,300,000. 

“okay, great, thanks!” your boyfriend says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

he then turns to the lady and hands her the check. 

“here’s the check. i hope all the kitties in here can all live long healthy lives and get everything they ever need!” 

the two people at the desk look like they are about to pass out. 

the lady clutches at the check with a white-knuckled hand and profusely thanks the pair of you. 

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. oh, now she pays attention to you. 

max, oblivious, beams, before taking your hand and leading you back out to his little yellow car. 

“helping the kitties- check!” he declares. 

you can’t help but smile and pull max into a searing kiss in front of the little cat shelter that was about to become the best-funded feline sanctuary in monaco, and most likely france too. 

you don’t even have a chance to respond to danica’s inquiry about the complicated-sounding car that you supposedly “bought” for max before she rambles on.

“i bet you bought your little boyfriend the most luxurious foods too!” she spouts. “wagyu beef, spaghetti with saffron, caviar- ooh! maybe a glass of moët?”

“i’m not telling youuuuu!” max trills, leaping around the tiny living room of his monaco apartment with his phone held high above his head. 

you don’t know whether to start raging in annoyance from your place on the scraggly carpet or to laugh at your boyfriend twirling on the lumpy sofa, phone screen purposely held away from you. jimmy only aggravates the situation by butting his head directly at your shin. 

“max! is it a crime to want know what we are going to eat for dinner??” you shout, exasperated. 

max somehow does a perfect pirouette off of the sofa (???) and smiles at you. 

“no, but it should be a crime to look so pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you try and bat him away, but he is faster. he leaps up, cackling, and bolts away. his apartment isn’t that big, just his kitchen, living room, and his single bedroom, so you take your time hoisting yourself off the carpet. you resist the urge to punt jimmy away from your shin like a football, and instead gingerly step over him before sprinting over to max’s bedroom. 

he awaits behind his bedroom door, and literally tackles you to his bed, pinning you underneath him.

its hard to stay mad at max when he’s giggling like a little kid and looking at you with those impossibly blue eyes that crinkled in the corners while he laughs. 

“i hate you,” you say with no heat. 

“mhm, i’m sure you do,” he says, all the sudden sobering up. he leans his head down and nips at your neck. 

you both know where this always leads. 

max’s white shirt disappears within seconds like the sight of a f1 car by the grandstands, and soon enough, yours does too. 

before you can do anything, though, the doorbell rings. 

your boyfriend pulls off of you, albeit hesitantly. 

“foods here, i guess,” he says, pulling his shirt back on like he wasn’t about to whip off his pants two seconds ago. 

you roll your eyes as max goes to fetch the food while you get presentable again. 

when you pad into the kitchen, you genuinely expect to see the world’s best chef tossing vegetables a meter in the air, considering how secretive max was about the birthday dinner you both were having. 

instead, max sits at the table with a ripped bag that displays a tell-tale green ubereats sticker, along with a few black plastic boxes that takes up half of the table space. 

your boyfriend rips the lids off with a flourish, showing you the contents. 

“my favoriteeeeeeee!” he chirps, gesturing to thin slices of beef carpaccio laid out prettily in the container, fragrant tomato soup in another plastic bowl, and two cupcakes.

it was kind of a weird combination, but hey, if max liked it, you weren’t gonna argue with it. 

you grab utensils for the both of you, and dig in. 

when the dregs of the tomato soup is all that's left in your bowl, the beef carpaccio is reduced to a few stray capers and lemon juice, and the wrapper is all that’s left of the cupcake, you lay back contently in your chair. 

“you know, “ you state, “i could’ve flyed in the best beef carpaccio maker in the world, the best tomato soup chef ever, and like, gordon ramsey for the cupcakes and had them make this for you.”

“eh,” he says, also laying back in his seat, feeling full and happy, “ubereats from the restaurant three blocks down is honestly just as good too.” 

danica was still not done. 

“the parties must have been wild for max's birthday, too!” she raves. “with your influence, i bet all the celebs were there! kim k, rihanna, carlos alcaraz, oprah winfrey, lebron james, johnny depp, billie ellish- shall i go on?

no, you think to yourself. no, you shouldn’t.

feeling content, you flop onto max’s bed. your boyfriend slides onto the mattress next to you, allowing you to snuggle into his soft body. you inhale the smell of his cologne, and a feeling of content drapes over your body like a warm blanket. 

“happy birthday, again, max,” you mutter, voice muffled in his chest. you slowly slide a hand suggestively into his shirt. 

“thanks,” he says. he pauses a moment before getting up, effectively making your hand drop out.  “i think i’d like to play a video game right now.”

“oh,” is all you can think to say. you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes he just could not understand context clues. 

“are you sure?” you ask as he sets up his gaming system, loading in f123. “we could do something else…” you trail off slowly, seeing if he could pick up what you were putting down. 

“yeah,” he says, eyes trained on the tv. he scrolls through a bunch of men in racing suits, and you spot a like, two with your company’s sign, big and bold, across their chest. huh, you kind of forgot your company sponsored f1. you squint your eyes at the white lettering displaying their names- sergio perez and daniel ricciardo. they seemed like pretty successful dudes, looking at their stats. max clicks on daniel’s profile, and jumps back onto the bed next to you as the loading screen pops up, still oblivious to your intentions. 

he let him zoom through a track named mug jello or something like that for the better half of an hour before making another move, since it was his birthday, after all. 

“do you want to watch netflix and... chill?” you suggest, nudging max. 

“one second,” he responds, as the stopwatch thing at the side of the screen turns entirely purple. a checkered flag fills the screen, and the guy with the redbull racing suit appears, drinking champagne out of a shoe. “woohoo!” he says, beaming down at you, who has now draped yourself over his lap. “i won!”

you blink at him. how was being in his lap not obvious enough?

“oh, yeah, sure, we can watch a movie.” he says hurriedly, misjudging the seriously? look on your face. 

max gently moves you out of his lap as he changes the tv channels to netflix. 

when he turns back around, you have your shirt off, sitting suggestively on the bed. 

your boyfriend laughs. 

“is it really that hot in the room? i can turn on the ac if you want,” he offers helpfully. 

reaching over, he opens his window, effectively blasting your semi-naked body with a blast of cold monaco wind that frequented the coast at night. you swear to god, if you get sick tomorrow-

you finally give up your attempts after max switches on a film called “crazy rich asians.” you snuggle into him innocently as the movie starts, and honestly, the beginning is kind of good. 

you are right in the middle of the scene where the movie’s main character, rachel, is getting a makeover by her friend, peik lin, and her ridiculous family when you catch max staring at you.

“hey, baby,” he whisper-yells, nudging you. 

“mmm?” you respond, fully intrigued as Rachel tries on dress after dress. 

“do you want to..?” 

you don’t really comprehend what he is saying as you are too focused on an intense emotional scene that pops up on the screen. 

“huh?” you say distractedly.

max’s mouth latches to your neck. 

you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen to realize what max is doing. 

oh.

you notice are still shirtless and your boyfriends hands were now wandering to places that were not so family-friendly. 

damn it, you curse silently, the movie was just getting good!

still, you can’t help to give in to max’s urges.

pretty soon, the screen glazes over in black. a prompt pops up: are you still watching?

the brunette interviewer beams at you and max, awaiting a response. the microphone that she holds is shoved a little too close to your face for comfort. seeing your silent form, her face drops into a scowl.

“no comment?” she sniffs in disdain. 

turning to max, she prods the microphone towards his lips. 

“you?” she snaps.

your boyfriend shrugs.

“all i can say is that my birthday yesterday was simply lovely.”

taglist: @sunny44 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @xjval @fellowwomenlover @ironmaiden1313

@phobiccneel @comicalivy @amz824 @gloriousartisanpastacroissant @mastermindbaby

[curtins]

do you think toji and/or sukuna are into looksmaxxing. i need to know.

choso is probably near to tears just thinking about it - he's having a hard time adjusting to all these new trends anyways, wdym there's a whole section of it now?

i feel like gojo just flexes his "natural" looks, nanami doesn't even know he has them until someone comments on your post saying "you won/we're so back."

omg hellaurrr i really pulled out a notebook to jot these down (this isn't even a joke, my keyboard was messing with me but i was worried i'd forget to answer properly) but now i may transcribe my notes on jjk + looksmaxxing 😭 🤭 u always send me the funniest things

gojo once found a wrinkle on his forehead and cancelled class for the day. now he sleeps with a cucumber and a jade roller. when he gets drunk, he claims that a kpop idol dm'ed him for advice on clear skin, never says who though (#liar) and in high school he used a self tanner once because suguru once likened him to an overgrown, pale musty mushroom. ended up with orange streaks everywhere. does pilates but will never admit it. wishes that in another life he was an influencer just so someone would send him pr packages because its nice to get presents in a box. definitely calls himself an icon.

geto thinks essential oils are a part of looksmaxxing so he feels better on the inside. literally floats around like a walking bottle of sandalwood and lavender. tried growing facial hair because he thought it would be great to accentuate his jawline, but someone called him a discount samurai and he had to cancel the cult meeting that day. thinks looksmaxxing isn't just physical but also a state of mind, so he carries around books like crime and punishment to look smart. thought that wearing glasses would make him look smarter and had a phase where he wore fake ones and not one person complimented them.

sukuna secretly has a stash of protein powder. it goes in everything, smoothies and sprinkled over raw meat. says that he doesn't give a flying fuck about these things, but used to read old, ancient scrolls about medieval skincare. got uraume to make him a scrub from red spider lilies and wondered why his skin was burning sooo bad afterwards. sharpens his nail with blades and claims its better than just normally clipping your nails, but he always ends up scratching himself bad. has a collection of sheet masks. has the best eyebrows of all time and knows this (gets them plucked). has an anonymous #hater tiktok account where he comments rude things under gojo's posts.

nanami. you are soooo right, he probably doesn't know or give a fuck about these things because he's actually employed. but hates the idea of a ten step skincare routine for he thinks that the best routine is simple: cleanser + moisturiser + sunscreen. believes in the power of a neutral toned wardrobe with clean, tailored silhouettes. but there are photos of him out there from when he was 18 years old, with black eyeliner on his waterline. shoots down everyone's ridiculous looksmaxxing attempts. jawline exercises? just chew your food properly. botox and fillers? try eight hours of sleep before reaching for the needles. want to post a glow up journey? well, just focus on yourself and move in silence. kind of gojo's biggest opp for all this, and being so clean and put together effortlessly...

[laswells-ashtray]

Kate, her wife and their "oops we adopted a kid" son, Eli

https://www.tumblr.com/laswells-ashtray/767279426752987136/a-vague-part-2-based-on-this?source=share @nothinthebible

Inviting the 141 to her house was not her idea but Sarah is trying to get Eli used to people and Kate doesn't feel like having every one of Sarah's family members in their house right now.

Thanksgiving had gone alright. Kyle and Johnny had spent half of the night sitting on their living room floor and playing with Eli because he'd gotten new Transformer toys and the two men "wanted to get to know him". They wanted to play with Optimus Prime. Everyone knew it.

John had been surprisingly good with the boy, Eli had been shy with him but with both Kate and Sarah in the kitchen dealing with the food, he'd been forced to ask John for help with his cutlery. By the end of the night, Eli had disappeared into the kitchen and brought back a juice box for himself and one for John. The captain had looked far too honoured.

Kate had felt bad, of all of the men Eli just hadn't clicked with Simon. That was until Sarah, Johnny, Gaz and Simon had gotten into an argument over what kid's movie to put on. It had been for show to amuse Eli, pretend to argue and then let Eli pick the movie in the end. It had shocked everyone when Eli had picked Simon's choice, Flushed Away, and it had floored them when the five-year-old insisted on sitting next to Simon when they watched it.

All in all, it had been a success. All four of the men had enjoyed the food and entertaining the newest Laswell. At the end of the night, Kate and Sarah had gone off to bed with a tuckered-out little boy between them because he insisted he wanted to watch one last movie with his mommies and fell asleep before the title card.

And now it was Kate's birthday. She usually didn't care much for it but Sarah had been getting Eli excited and she couldn't resist his head tilt and puppy eyes when he asked if Mommy's friends were coming back over. She's a weak woman.

So now she has her wife, a five-year-old in Scooby-Doo pyjamas, three Englishmen, a Scot and a Russian pilot in her living room. God bless Nikolai for always gifting alcohol on birthdays because God, does Kate need it.

Eli had taken to Nikolai shockingly quickly so now the pilot was getting the rundown on all of the boy's Scooby-Doo figures and honestly, she'd never seen Nikolai pay so much attention to anything in his life.

The lads had all gotten her gifts which was undeniably kind. Kyle had gotten her a shirt which she actually liked, saying that it was just a plain blue shirt but she appreciated it regardless. Johnny had gotten her a tartan wallet from a brand she knew was somewhat pricey back in Scotland, it was lovely colours and had just enough space that she could store the collection of post-it note drawings Eli had taken to giving her. Simon had gotten her a good quality knife, unsurprising. What did surprise her was the fact she had made one single comment about getting one under her breath after being dragged onto the field one day, never mentioning it in front of anyone. John had settled on a blanket which he probably actually put thought into for once and she would thank him for the pack of cigs he slipped between the folded fabric when her wife wasn't around.

Sarah had wanted to do a fancy dinner, but Kate had told her just to order takeout from their local Chinese place. So, now her living room was full of takeout containers and everyone was eating something different. She'd pretend she hadn't watched Nikolai pay for all of the food at the door.

She and Sarah were content to eat as they watched the five men let Eli try different things from their plate. The boy had a little plate of his own that had different sections to ensure none of the foods touched and he had a little bit of everything on it. Their living room was large enough to squeeze everyone in and on their own seat but Eli had parked himself between John and Nikolai, eventually sitting somehow on both of their knees as they ate their food at the most awkward angle possible to avoid jostling the little boy.

"What do you think, Eli? Who's food do you like the best?" Gaz asks her son. The men had made it into a competition amongst themselves much to the surprise of absolutely no one.

Eli takes a second to answer, poking at the food on his plate with his little Tigger fork. He looks up and his eyes fall straight on Kate's as he points at her. "Mommy's."

Kate offers him a smile in response and holds her plate out. "You want more rice? Or are you gonna pick at the other things on your plate, buddy?"

He doesn't answer verbally, he just taps his fork off of his plate before he starts eating some of Kyle's noodles again. He was good with trying new foods but at the end of the day, he'd always fall back on what he knew. And what he knew was sitting on Kate's lap when she'd eat a forkful and then feed him one. She liked to baby her son, sue her.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" She hears Simon mutter under his breath sounding positively amused.

Sarah offers her a light nudge with an exaggerated look of hurt. "I'm a little offended that it's never me."

She rolls her eyes with a fond look. "Everything you eat is too spicy. He's five, mint ice cream is too spicy for kids that age."

"Not true, he eats that chicken you make and it's spicy."

"Oh, there's a simple answer for that."

"And that would be?"

"He likes me better."

"Bitch."

"Bitch."

For a brief moment, the room stays silent as they all stare at the five-year-old in shock.

Nik looks positively gleeful.

John is making that stupid face where he's obviously trying not to laugh.

Simon's face is characteristically blank but the subtle shake of his shoulders gives him away.

Kyle is biting his lip and staring at the floor.

Johnny is just hiding his face in Kyle's shoulder.

Kate thinks she should probably be outraged, scold her wife for using such language around the little boy and teach Eli that bitch is a Mommy word.

That thought is short-lived when she throws her head back with a cackle, covering her face with her hand as she hears everyone else starts to break.

[hades--baby]

It Will Come Back || Chapter One

Summary: Lieutenant Colonel Frost had retired from the military years ago, feigning that old age and twenty years worth of service had finally caught up to her. In reality, it was the loss of her entire task force that had urged her to bring her military career to an end. Retirement had been treating Frost quite well, but when it came to light that Vladimir Makarov was free from the gulag he was meant to spend the rest of his miserable days, she wondered if retirement was still the best option for her.

The man who had taken out her entire team was running free while she was stuck at home, twiddling her thumbs.

Thankfully, after meeting the estranged woman through a mutual friend, John Price made it his personal mission to make sure that Makarov was brought to justice and that Frost played a part in the process.

Chapter Content Warning: Canon Typical Violence, PTSD, Military Jargon, Reader uses she/her pronouns

Note: This was originally posted as an OC fic, but I decided that I wanted it to be a reader fic instead haha--hope you guys enjoy!

|| this work was also posted on my ao3 account: hades_baby ||

Word Count: 2279

The cozy cabin that Kate Laswell had just let herself into was damn near silent, save for the sound of running water that was coming from the bathroom just down the hall. She eyed the thin line of light and wisping steam that seeped from the gap beneath the door, suddenly regretting letting herself in with the key that she had been given long ago by her dear friend. 

She knew that it was probably a bad idea to drop in like this; completely unannounced and with a stranger tagging close behind.

But alas, Kate was feeling antsy and when no one had opened the door after her third round of incessant knocking, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

This was probably the first time that John Price had ever seen Laswell fiddle so nervously with her hands. The usually stoic yet kind Station Chief had always been steady and hardened from all the years of service and bullshit she had witnessed throughout her entire career, but stepping into whoever’s home they were currently in was enough to make her fidget with a sense of anxiety. Price hadn’t a proper clue of who they were meant to be meeting—Laswell never mentioned who they were, only that they could potentially serve to be an important part in hunting down Makarov. 

He trailed close behind the shorter woman of authority as they crept through the dim lit house together. The only thing he could properly hear was the water of a shower running somewhere nearby, a fire crackling in the living room to his left, and the rustling of the snowy forest that the cabin was set in. He wanted to question why they hadn’t just waited at the door for whoever was inside to greet them or why they were so secretly creeping throughout the cozy looking home. 

There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but he knew that he wouldn’t get an answer unless Kate believed that they were dignified a response.

They continued to sneak through the main hall that led from the front door to the rest of the house, only stopping when John’s heavy boot creaked against a part of the gorgeous hardwood flooring. Laswell glanced back at him and the look she gave him nearly forced an apology out of his mouth for making any sort of noise, but the words were caught in his throat as he felt the cool muzzle of a gun press against the back of his head. The chilled metal rested nicely at the base of his skull where his beanie didn’t manage to cover. He froze for a moment before ever so carefully glancing over his own broad shoulder to see who had successfully snuck up on him. 

A woman close to Kate’s height was standing there, hair dripping with water, and a dark green towel wrapped firmly around her figure. Droplets of water fell from the ends of her hair and onto the parts of her skin that the towel didn’t manage to hide away. Her piercing eyes stared into his own and he couldn’t help but feel absolutely entranced by her. 

There was something about her that fully enraptured his mind and soul. 

Or perhaps it was just the gun in his face that was causing such hyperfixation. 

The pistol aimed at his head was balanced steadily in her hands. She had backed away a singular step so the muzzle wasn’t pressed right up against his head anymore, making it more difficult for him to disarm her efficiently without the possibility of the weapon going off. 

Not that he thought that it would actually come down to that. 

At least, he hoped that it didn’t actually come down to that. 

“Frost,” Laswell greeted kindly. 

“Kate,” she greeted back, not daring to take her eyes off of Price. “The fuck are you doing in my house this late at night?”

“I had a proposition for you and wanted to see if you’d be interested. Thought it might entice you enough to rethink your retirement,” Kate said, putting on a smile in hopes of easing her friend. 

“Rethink retirement? Funny,” she said dryly. 

John felt that both of the women were acting far too casual for him to still have a gun aimed at his face. His head was still twisted around in an awkward way as he kept his gaze on her, flicking down to the gun every few moments. Frost hadn’t flinched a bit, nor had her hands faltered. 

She remained steady as fucking rock and that’s what troubled him. 

“And who’s this?” she finally asked, tipping the gun down a bit as a gesture to him. 

“Captain John Price. I’ve been working with him for a while now,” Kate introduced. “He’s a SAS operative with a task force under his command. Someone that I trust with my life.”

John nodded his head once in acknowledgement, unsure of whether he should say anything in fear that the woman might just shoot him for simply opening his mouth.  

“Wonderful to meet you, Captain,” she said, finally lowering her gun and straightening herself out of the stance she had hunkered down in. She clicked the safety on and Price felt like he could breathe again. “Well, feel free to make yourselves at home. Kettle should still be hot and there’s some tea stashed in the kitchen. I’m gonna go finish having a shower.”

And with that, she walked past the both of them and into the confines of the bathroom, closing the heavy wooden door shut. 

John finally relaxed, looking back at Laswell with furrowed brows. 

“That’s who we’re supposed to be meeting?” he asked in bewilderment. 

“Lieutenant Colonel Frost. One of the best in the game,” she said, nodding her head as she recalled old memories of her friend’s achievements in the field. “Or she was one of the best in the game. She retired a few years back.”

“Lieutenant Colonel?” he questioned, not quite believing in the words she had just spoken. The woman that had just shoved a gun in his face moments ago looked a little too young to even be a Captain, let alone a bloody Lieutenant Colonel. “Girl looks young enough to have just been promoted to Staff Sergeant.”

Laswell visibly winced. 

“I’m sure she’d appreciate you thinking that she still looks good for her age, but I wouldn’t let her hear you say all that. Might have that gun pointed at your face again sooner than you’d like,” she said as she made her way into the kitchen. 

Price followed. 

Laswell took out a few mugs from the cupboard and started making tea for the three of them. There was a sense of comfortability that she had moving about the house. He could tell that she’d been here before more than she was letting on. 

“You never told me why we needed her for the job,” he said, hoping to get some answers for the questions that had been swimming in his head for the entire drive to the cabin. 

“Let’s just say that she had a bad experience with Makarov in the past. I just thought I’d let her know that she might have the chance to bring him to justice after all these years,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “If anyone’s going to be motivated to bring him in, it’s her.”

“You also didn’t mention that she was retired.”

“I didn’t mention a lot of things about her, John,” she said with a sigh, rolling her eyes along with her words. 

And that was his sign that it was time for him to stop asking questions. 

But he couldn’t help but sneak one more in. 

“How old is she?” he asked. 

“Around my age,” she answered. 

The rank made sense now. 

The bathroom door opened and Frost walked into the kitchen soon after. She had proper clothes on this time around, hair still wet but no longer dripping. Laswell turned with a smile and handed her a cuppa before handing once to Price as well. 

“Thanks,” Frost muttered quietly as she took the mug and made her way into the living room. She found herself settling comfortably in her usual dark green armchair while John settled in the one set right across from her. Laswell took her usual place on the plush couch between them. 

The living room was charming in its own way. 

There were two matching armchairs that were placed on either side of the toasty brick fireplace that was already roaring with bright flames, a plush couch set right in front of it with a coffee table to match, and a few full wooden bookshelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. 

Price wouldn’t mind living there. 

It was an ideal home in his eyes. 

He supposed that he couldn’t blame her for retiring and settling down in a quaint cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“So,” Frost started, taking a sip of her steaming tea before continuing. “What do you want?”

“I’ve got a job proposition for you,” Kate started.

“Clearly,” she said, flashing her brows for a mere second. 

“I’m hunting someone.”

“You always are, Kate,” she quipped, taking yet another sip of tea. 

Price hadn’t even thought to touch his cuppa yet. He’d been so taken in by the woman sitting in front of him. She was seemingly so uninterested in whatever they had to say. Frost had one of the most interesting and powerful CIA agents sitting in front of her and she didn’t seem to care.

“It’s Makarov.”

Frost flicked her eyes away from her tea and up to Kate. She didn’t offer any sort of sarcastic quip this time around. She simply stared, wondering if Kate was telling the truth or just trying to put a stopper in her inattentive disposition. 

“Makarov?” she questioned. 

Kate nodded. 

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments. 

John watched her expression carefully—or lack thereof, should he say. There was barely a glint in her eyes that would be able to tell him what she was thinking. It wasn’t until she opened her mouth that he knew what was going on in her mind. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not coming back. Even if it’s for that Russian piece of shit,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Kate probed playfully. 

“Pick your poison.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know how to reach me,” Kate said, shrugging her shoulders as she stood. Frost rose to her feet as well. John was the last to stand, a bit confused and a little nonplussed. 

“This could have been a phone call,” she said. 

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you don’t actually answer your phone when anyone calls,” Kate said, quirking her head to the side with a smile. “Last I checked, your landline is disconnected too.”

“Fair point.” The women embraced each other in a warm hug. “Tell the missus I said hello.”

“I will,” Kate said as she pulled away. “She misses you.”

Frost then turned to John. 

“Wonderful meeting you, Captain Price. Hope you two have a safe trip back home, wherever that is,” she said, flashing a quick smile out of courtesy. 

John felt as if he had just gotten complete whiplash from how quick the entire interaction was. He had just sat down, yet they were already leaving. Kate simply rolled over the moment Frost said no and that was supposed to be it? 

He held his hand out to her. 

“Likewise, Lieutenant Colonel,” he said, nodding his head. 

Frost hated when people called her that, especially now that she was retired. Nevertheless, she took his hand in hers and gave it a firm squeeze. 

And with that, the two of them left. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked the second the front door shut behind them. 

“That was how a typical interaction with Frost usually goes now that she’s reached her older years of not giving a shit about what people think,” she said as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat in an attempt to stay warm in the snowy weather. 

Older years. 

Price still thought she looked younger than him. 

“She used to be a spitfire when she was younger, but a situation with Makarov extinguished that side of her,” she continued. 

“Still kind of seems like a spitfire from what I saw,” he muttered as he snuggly pulled his beanie over the tops of his ears. “The situation with Makarov… Is that why she’s all business then?”

“Partially.”

“What happened between them?”

Kate was quiet for a few long moments, wondering if she should say anything. She knew that if she didn't say anything now, John would just go looking for answers himself. 

She sighed. 

“Frost had a task force just a little bigger than yours. Some bad intel led to a mission going south and Makarov and his men ended up taking out her entire team. She’s the only one that made it out that day. Walked away from that one with a lot of nasty scars,” Laswell explained, trying to keep it short in an attempt to spare him the gruesome details. 

“She was the only survivor?”  

She hummed in confirmation. 

Mental and physical scars then, he figured. 

They walked through the forest in silence after that, slowly trekking back to the end of the driveway where their truck was parked. 

“The gun to the face was a nice touch,” he muttered gruffly. 

Kate smiled and looked over at him. 

“Thought you’d think so.”

[iheartbookbran]

Also ngl I kinda love the concept of Debling courting Penelope and Colin getting jealous because of it, not because I ship it (he’s barely a character) or because I’m part of the crowd that wants to see Colin ~suffer (though I’m not opposed to seeing him dramatically yearn), but because the reason Penelope specifically is going after this vegan man is so fascinating to me. Like, she obviously doesn’t love him. But she will marry him to protect LW… she’ll marry him to please Portia, that’s so funny.

Girl’s so desperate to escape her awful family life while at the same time keeping her secret, but she also wants her mother’s approval. And she’s so caught up in that toxic mindset that she completely misses the guy she’s been in love with since childhood making heart eyes at her from across the ballroom.

Pen only has her parents’ terrible marriage as a frame of reference, so she probably thinks it’s a bonus if her future husband is much older than her because that could make her a young widow. He’ll leave the country for the majority of the year to fuck off to Antarctica? Oh to be left alone by your own life partner!!!

Meanwhile Portia is enthusiastically nodding behind Penelope like yes, perhaps he’ll die at sea, and neither of them think there’s anything wrong with this outlook in life.

Hilarious.

[minty-sweet-art]

Congratulations you made it to the wedding between me and Kaufmo (aka my 100 day anniversary officially simping for Kaufmo)

Happy July 1st (art fight is haunting me) (side note I ramble in the tags)

To start of let’s watch several silly CapCut edit before getting into the wedding art

⚠️❗️WARNING FOR LOUD SCREAMING/SOUNDS❗️⚠️

Thank again @leafryoworks for the offer of letting me use one of their Kaufmo art for an edit

Original art post by leafy link here

Now that the edit are over you can have a silly terrible Terrible doodle as well. (I can’t bring Kaufmo amazing ness justice with my art but I try. Also I had no idea what to do for poses help)

Didn’t put Kaufmo in a black and white tuxedo because the color are apart of his charm(I was lazy)

We had to change wedding officiant to ( @saytrrose/) kenji rose because kinger couldn’t take Jax and gangle interrupting anymore. (They called dibs after all)

And of course can’t forget to our friends leafy. It’s like I can still hear them now.

(they just have school this week so they couldn’t see the post until this Weekend) imagine having school you nerd/ /silly /joke

Oh and also

Kaufmo gallery update: 520

Thank for viewing my silly wedding post about Kaufmo. I will continue to simp for a clown like a loser.

And remember everyone

Live laugh Kaufmo <3

– Sincerely Kaufmo simp 

[navigatorsnorth]

The City-Ships of the Divine Fleet

[quantumshade]

me: jews who are antizionists are pushed out of jewish spaces this genius: uhm well you’re not part of jewish spaces? checkmate.

also “since Judaism and Zionism are so intertwined (see: ancient holidays, prayers, wedding traditions, sayings, genealogy, archeology, etc)” me when i fucking fell for it

[mcybree]

Random limlife Scott rant, GO!

I got this ask and decided that I’d give it my best shot but got so mad on my skim through some of the moments I remembered that I gave up.

[justpollux]

u know how autistic toddlers stereotypically like to stack soup cans. like it shows on the Wikipedia page. I was thinking about it and how when I was little, the part that appealed to me was A) the weight of the can, and B) the way they'd just slot into each other perfectly and securely

do you think point B connects to why we typically like Lego so much

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[thethingything]

finally processing that we're probably gonna have to have these teeth removed with either sedation or general anaesthetic and unfortunately I have a phobia of both of these to the point where just thinking about it gives us panic attacks and I genuinely don't know what to do because I absolutely want to avoid this at all costs but we also might not have any other option

[anarcho-masochist]

Okay, I thought this was universal but maybe my last three therapists were right that it is not:

Is it normal for boredom to be truly unbearable?

As in, worse than anything else, would rather get eviscerated while fully conscious, will do anything to escape it which might actually include suicide if no satisfactory options are available?

[master-sass-blast]

Hello, chronic fatigue and terrible back pain. I have not missed either of you.

[sureuncertainty]

that validating but also infuriating moment when i see a post that makes me annoyed and then i go into the notes and it’s like 90% terfs agreeing with it like okay good i’m not crazy this post was bullshit. also i think if a ton of terfs are agreeing with your point then MAYBE you should rethink what you’re saying a little bit