#something short and sweet today

[brighteststar707]

Words of Affirmation

✦ Written for Jumin Week 2023

✦ Jumin x Reader

✦ Words: 545

There is a comfortable silence in the car on the ride back home after tonight’s RFA charity party. It's already late, the streets are dark, and the car feels like a world of its own. Your hand is in Jumin's, resting on the middle seat. His eyes are on you, that much you can feel, though you're taking your time to meet his gaze. There's an intensity there, the product of the post-party buzz and the wine that had been passed around. You can't imagine what he's thinking about, but you don’t expect you’ll have to wait long to find out. He is always talkative after events, especially if they went well.  

You haven't spoken since greeting Driver Kim. You’re still processing the events of the night. All the guests you greeted, so many new people you had been talking to for months through emails. The hall, glittering and magical, the music filling the room and boosting everyone’s energy. The high donation numbers, the pride in Jaehee’s voice as she thanked everyone for their generous support. Jumin leading you in a dance around the dance floor, elegant and practiced in his movements. All your friends, together in one place, in a good mood and enjoying each other’s company.

You watch the city slip past your window for a little while, before turning your attention to Jumin. You know how much he enjoys the RFA party days. He has been kept busy with planning for weeks leading up to the event, so you know he must be pleased that it all worked out so well.

“It went well tonight, didn’t it?” You ask.

“It did. I’m very pleased with how it all turned out,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You were stunning tonight, darling. You really outdid yourself.” You can't make out his expression properly, but the passing lights outside make his dark eyes glimmer. There is deep affection in is voice.

“I couldn't have done it without you all there to help me,” you reply. “You worked so hard to help our visions come to life. Not to mention all the guests who were invited at your recommendation.”

“And yet, in that hall, you were all everyone could look at and talk about. It was an honor just to be by your side.”

You feel the heat rush to your face. If he senses you getting flustered, he doesn’t let on, he still has more to say.

“You have no idea how proud you make me. To think that you came to us by chance just a few years ago and you're now guiding us to new heights,” he muses.

Jumin has never hidden his feelings for you, but he has also never been one to believe in empty praise. You know he means every word, and that only makes your heart swell more.

You lean over to him to kiss his cheek.

“It sounds like the party has made you sentimental, love.”

He chuckles, “maybe it has, but I mean every word I’m saying. The RFA is lucky to have you and I am luckier still.”

“That makes me the luckiest of us all, doesn’t it?” You reply.

And after a night like tonight, you really believe it.

[cerise-on-top]

Hi!!

I really love your works and writing on cod! I really enjoy reading it! ❤

Can I request Konig, Nikolai, Rudy and Alejandro reacting to reader speaking to their native tongue?

Take all the time you need! ❤🐱

Hello, I'm glad I can write something people can enjoy! And of course you can, even if I'm not sure I understood this ask perfectly! I wrote it as reader speaking the native language of the lads with them, so I hope that's okay! If you wanted reader simply speaking their own native language, please let me know! Thank you for the request, this one was very fun to write for!

Alejandro, Rodolfo, Nikolai and König with an S/O who Speaks Their Language with Them

Alejandro: He’d definitely be surprised if it comes out of nowhere, but he’s anything but mad. He can speak English fluently, has no problems whatsoever with it, but if he can speak Spanish then he definitely won’t mind either. If you’re a beginner and it’s evident by how you stutter in Spanish, then he’ll be patient with you. He’ll speak slowly and clearly so you can follow while also getting a good feel for the intonations the language has. However, when he just wants to tease you a bit then he’ll speak the way he’d usually speak while also not shutting up either. Alejandro can be eloquent in Spanish if he tries, but he barely ever does, only when he wants to confuse you with words you’d likely only hear from people who are 100 years old. The more you look like you’re in despair, the more it cracks him up. He will apologize afterwards, though, and give you a kiss on the cheek. If your Spanish is already pretty good, however, and you just wanted to surprise him, then congratulations, he’s likely going to speak a whole lot more Spanish with you than before. Just because it’s a popular language doesn’t mean everyone speaks it, so when he wants to tell you something for your ears only while there are people around, he’ll say it in Spanish. It’s comfortable for him, getting to speak his mother tongue with you. He thinks in Spanish, so it’s a whole lot easier for him as well. Tells a lot more jokes in Spanish too, even though they’re some of the worst ones the language has to offer. While they may not be Ghost-level lame, they’re something else still. Come up with your own and he’ll be so proud of you, rewarding you with more awful puns he came up with. He’s just happy he gets to share his language with you.

Rodolfo: As soon as you come up to him somewhat timidly and strike up a conversation in Spanish he’ll be a bit surprised, but absolutely smitten. Since it’s obvious you’re still learning he’ll try to use “nicer” Spanish on you, so more words that aren’t just exclusive to his dialect, or Las Almas in general. Very supportive, he would never judge you for making grammar mistakes while speaking, taking a while to remember a word or mispronouncing something, it’s part of learning a language, after all. Might nudge you in the right direction or correct you gently, but he’d never mean it in a bad way, he just wants to help you. He’ll speak clearly to you, slowly as well, so you can learn from him. It’s not often he gets carried away, but sometimes hearing you speak Spanish is just so cute that he might chuckle a bit or be a bit more excited than usual. A very patient teacher, who can appreciate you trying to learn something new. Now, if your Spanish is already pretty good then he does like holding a conversation with you in Spanish every once in a while. It’s just nice to turn your brain off without having to translate every other word into another language since he, too, thinks in his native tongue. Soft petnames from time to time, or maybe just mixing English and Spanish together when he can’t think of the word immediately as well. Somehow, as soon as he knows you speak Spanish, he’ll believe you’ve taken an interest in the corresponding culture, so he’ll teach you more about Mexico if he can. Teaches you how to cook the food, the customs, what the people are like in general. While he may not be as connected to his culture as Alejandro, he does like talking about it from time to time.

Nikolai: The second you greet him with a cheerful privet he knows you’re in for something. You should have expected such from him as well, though. It’s a gamble with him, he’ll either speak more quickly than he usually does just to mess with you or he’ll hold a prim and proper conversation with you and it all depends on how playful he’s feeling that day. Overall, he’s pretty chill about it, though. You wanna know how to pronounce something? You wanna know what gender a noun has? What his neighbor was yelling about again? He’s got your back. You can ask him the most embarrassing questions a million times, he won’t mind. Besides, if you want to then you can come to Russia and experience everything there first hand. Nikolai knows all the good places in Russia that are suitable for someone who’s not usually there, so you won’t have to worry about anything either. If you want to hold a whole conversation about how tortoises have survived for millions of years, then you can. Besides, hearing you botch the pronunciation from time to time is just the most precious thing there is. Will smile a bit when you pronounce something incorrectly, but won’t ever outright mock you for it. As mentioned before, he just thinks it’s cute. And when you know Russian very well, then he still won’t speak it too often. Nikolai knows eight languages, he doesn’t always think in Russian, usually in English since that’s what most of his closest friends speak with him. If you really insist on speaking Russian with him, he will, but won’t think too much of it. Many people know the language, Russia is a big country, after all. If you want to, then you can spend some holidays there and he’ll show you around since there likely isn’t a better guide in the whole country than him. But he will not make a big fuss out of it.

König: German isn’t a very popular language due to its grammar, so you can imagine his surprise when you walked up to him with the most adorable Grüß Gott he’s ever heard. He could just squish you then and there, but he refrains from doing so and instead focuses on trying to have a meaningful conversation with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s good, doesn’t matter if you’re just asking him how he’s doing, a conversation is a conversation and you’re learning. Besides, you learning German, especially if it’s just because of him, does move him just a bit. Might not always initiate a conversation in German with you because what if you’re not in the mood? But you can always just talk to him in German, he doesn’t mind it at all. Though, he might not be the best person to learn German from since he uses regional words that people his age use. While he does try to speak high German with you, he does not really care much for it, so his dialect slips in every once in a while. But hey, at the very least you get to learn his dialect. As soon as he hears you call someone Hawara he becomes oddly proud of himself, thinking he’s doing well as a teacher even if he barely does anything. He loves Austria, so if you really want to see it, he’s more than happy to take you home, show you Vienna, Styria and Lower Austria and make you try some good old Brettljause. If you already know German, then chances are you’ll only know high German, which is alright too, but please know that from time to time, König will speak his dialect with you, which you might not always understand. He barks quite a bit when he speaks too, making it a bit harder to understand him as well. However, he’s always more than happy to play translator for you and teach you words no one uses anymore, such as hal. Austrian words are a must know for you, therefore you’ll learn fairly early on what a Seidl or an Erdapfl is.

[dilfmobius]

just a little lokius fic set right after X-5's capture :)

“We’ll be right behind you,” says Loki, waving B-15 off.

She looks at him, eyebrow raised, but walks through the time door with X-5 securely cuffed at her side.

“Uh, Loki?” Mobius asks, confused.

“You okay?” Loki asks, shoulders squared and hands in his pockets. He’s tense.

“What?” Mobius blinks at the god in front of him. “Yeah, I’m fine?”

“Are you sure? X-5 pushed you into the wall pretty hard.” Loki clears his throat and continues, “Looked like you hit your head.”

Mobius’ reaches to touch the back of his head, his fingers brushing a small, tender lump. He winces.

Loki takes notice and moves in closer. He replaces Mobius’ hand with his own, gently cradling the back of his head.

Green light glows from Loki’s palm and Mobius feels a thrumming across his skull. It’s not painful or uncomfortable, in fact it’s one of the most comforting feelings Mobius’ has ever experienced. His breath hitches, at the sudden warmth caused by Loki’s magic and proximity.

Loki looks down at Mobius, eyes dancing between the agent’s gaze and his slightly parted lips.

It would be so easy to pull Mobius in, close the gap between them, and for Loki to seal his mouth over Mobius’.

Instead, he finishes healing the bump on Mobius’ head, and steps away. His gaze is soft and he isn’t as tense as he was moments ago. 

Mobius swallows, pushing down the hot desire that had built in his chest. He really thought for a moment that Loki was going to kiss him, and that it was going to be the most glorious thing that has ever happened to him.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Loki’s voice pulls Mobius back. 

“Um, no, I’m really fine now.” Mobius touches the spot on his head where a lump should be, but touches nothing but smooth hair and healed skin. “Promise. And, uh, thank you.”

Loki smiles at him and reaches out to grab Mobius by the forearms. He smooths his hands over the rough fabric, up and down, and Mobius feels himself flush ever so slightly . 

The amount of tender care Loki is performing for Mobius is such a turn from minutes ago when he had X-5 up against that wall, pinned by the shadows of his two clones. The piercing, dark gaze reserved for X-5 has now softened, and Mobius is swallowed by pools of tranquil blue.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Loki says, casually, and it catches Mobius off guard. “And you’re welcome.” Mobius can’t help the dopey smile that spreads across his face at Loki’s sincerity.

They stand there for a moment, just smiling softly at each other like idiots. It’s nice.

Mobius is the one to speak up.

“By the way, that whole thing. The crowd,” Mobius waves behind him and then gestures towards the spots where the two other Lokis stood, “Conjuring up multiple yous. That sure was something.”

Loki just shrugs. “You’ve seen me do it before, I’m sure, in your many years of studying me.” There’s a slight teasing tone in the god’s voice that puts Mobius at ease.

“Sure, it’s one thing to see it on a screen,” Mobius says. “But to see it in person? To see you in action like that? I know I said it was a little over the top, but it’s awesome. You’re awesome.”

Loki chuckles and looks down at his shoes, willing the moisture in his eyes away. And because Mobius knows Loki, he tries to distract him by saying,

“Now, was that illusion projection or duplication casting?”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki says looking back up at Mobius, he laughs and a stray tear makes its way down his face.

Now it’s Mobius turn to inch forward. He reaches up to wipe Loki’s cheek, and lets his hand linger to cradle his face.

Loki sniffs and leans into Mobius’ palm, almost nuzzling into the touch. 

“We should go,” says Mobius. “B-15 will come looking for us.”

Loki nods and Mobius pulls away. Neither revel in the sudden cold left between them.

Mobius taps away at his TemPad and pulls up a door. The agent nods for Loki to follow him but before Mobius can move Loki grabs his arms and pulls him back.

“Loki, wha—“ Mobius is cut off by soft lips pressed against his.

It’s quick, a peck really, nothing major, but Mobius freezes as Loki pulls away, his brain stuttering to a halt. Loki retreats back a little and shoves his hands in his pants pockets once more.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” Loki says with a shy smile on his lips.

“Loki,” Mobius breathes out and closes the gap between them once more.

His hands come up to hold Loki’s face and Loki is swift to wrap his arms around Mobius’ waist. They kiss, softly and with purpose, forgetting about the disaster waiting for them through that glowing, orange door. 

There isn’t a soul around to spoil this one precious moment. It’s all theirs, and it’s all that matters; wrapped around each other in this empty lot in 1977 London.

Loki’s hands wander underneath Mobius’ suit jacket and slide up his back, bringing him even closer, if that’s possible. Mobius sighs into Loki’s mouth and tangles his fingers in the god’s soft, dark curls, unable to deny the heat unfurling in his belly.

Loki is the first one to pull away, much to Mobius’ dismay. He presses their foreheads together and bumps his nose against Mobius’.

“We really do need to be going,” the god says quietly.

“When all of this is over,” Mobius starts, “and we’ve won… will you stay?” 

Loki’s throat feels tight, constricting around the lump of emotion settling there, and his eyes water.

“Where else would I go?” Loki asks.

“Anywhere you want,” Mobius replies. “You could go home.”

Loki shakes his head and presses forward to place another kiss to Mobius’ lips, sweeter this time, feeling the lump in his throat dissolve into his chest and blooms into something warm and promising.

When they pull apart, Loki looks down at his analyst and says, “I’m already there.”

[fagfictions]

Father's Day

If anybody had noticed that Jason seemed to be more prickly whenever this time of the year comes around, nobody had the balls to confront him. The rise of violence in Crime Alley during the third Sunday every June, was widely known within Gotham City. Initially, some had thought it was some hate crime during pride month. However, this spike in violence only lasted within that particular Sunday, and never beyond it.

Jason who already woke up on the wrong side of the bed, found an intruder in his base. His survival instincts kicking in mixed with his inherent rage, he pulled a gun out of his multiple safety stashes scattered around his base - and went to go confront the intruder. The figure was in Jason's small kitchen... cooking something, if the delicious smells coming from the kitchen were any indicator. He aimed his gun towards the figure, not wanting to take any chances -only to be met with the familiar gorgeous sight of Timothy Drake.

Tim was dressed in his Sunday's best, looking like a run-of-the-mill Park Avenue Princess in his little mini sun dress and coiffed up-do. Tim smiled at him, and the gun pointed his way, "I know you're happy to see me, but damn."

"What the hell, Babybird?!" Jason looked at a wall clock, it was around 1 p.m. "Aren't you supposed to be cozying up to Bruce in the manor?"

Tim gave him a grin as he finally finished cooking, "He has his own son to do that for him."

Jason raised him an unimpressed eyebrow as if he truly didn't believe Tim. "Fine, I gave Daddy a visit during brunch earlier, and gave him his gift for the day."

There's a cringed expression on Jason's face, "I can't fucking believe you actually call him daddy."

"Someone has to do it since most of you call him Bruce or B, and on the rare occasion, dad." Tim explained without missing a beat, "Let's not forget Damian's incessant calls for father."

"Doesn't seem necessary."

"Trust me, calling Bruce as my Daddy Dearest, has done a lot of good in this world."

"Still doesn't explain what the hell you're doing here."

It was Tim's turn to shoot him with an unimpressed expression. Truthfully, they had been spending more time together for the past year. It was an unusual development going from hating each other to genuinely enjoying each other's company. Jason doesn't know what triggered this development. maybe it was the fact that a year ago, they ended up spontaneously hate-fucking after a bad mission between them.

It was difficult to keep on hating Tim when he's all needy, warm and tight underneath Jason's body. This ended up becoming a habit between them, arguing then letting it all out in the bedroom. Gradually, the bickering and fights dwindled down, yet the intense sex between them never dissipated. Along the way, they also managed to get to know each other better, and Jason found that he really liked Tim. He really liked him.

Jason doesn't want to ruin the thing between them, so he held off from labels. In the back of his mind, he knew Tim was probably the one for him.

"I wanted to spend time with you." Tim answered so easily, as if he wasn't referring to a cold-blooded killer, who had once tried to kill him. "Can we start eating now? I'm famished."

Jason sat down, and started devouring the meal Tim made for him, "Didn't you just say you had brunch with Bruce? Why are you still hungry?"

There was an unusual expression on Tim's face as he brushed off Jason's question, "My appetite's been crazy lately."

"Anyway, you Wayne boys, sure have a penchant for being needy." Tim said after a big bite, "Being demanding must run in the family."

Jason rolled his eyes, "I'm not a-"

"Save it, Jason." Tim interrupted. "You are a Wayne. His second son."

Jason dropped his utensils, "I'm not in the mood to play house today, Timmy." Usually, Jason would love to bicker with Tim, but not today.

"What, so you could go do your annual Father's Day violence spike in Crime Alley?"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Jason's eyes started to turn emerald.

Suddenly, Tim hugged Jason's arm between his chest, grounding the older man. He then pleaded with those blue eyes, "Then explain it to me, please."

Jason had started to feel his rage dissipating, as he finally resigned to being vulnerable, "Bruce was the closest thing I had to a father, and he..." 'failed me' was unspoken, but understood by both men.

"It feels like this day is mocking me. I'll never have a father, I'll never know what it feels like. I thought I had once, but the universe was clearly playing tricks on me. It's not all out of jealousy and spite." Jason admitted, "I do what I do to ensure that all those other kids out there would still have their fathers. I know my methods are unusual, but at least I get results. These deadbeat dads are too scared to commit any crimes today, which means they are forced to spend time with their families, for even just today."

Repressed tears started falling from his eyes, "So forgive me if I'm not in a fucking celebratory mood."

Tim guided his upset figure to the couch "Do you think you'll ever feel differently about this day, Jason?"

"I don't know. God, I wish I could." Jason knew that healing wasn't exactly linear, "I'm not your responsibility, Timmy. I know I'm fucked up in the head."

"That's not true. Of course, I'd care about you." Tim easily answered, "I love you."

Jason froze, this was the first time one of them vocalized and solidified this thing between them. Tim suddenly left the couch to get something from the kitchen. Jason assumed he left because Jason didn't say it back. When Tim returned, Jason grabbed both of his hands with his palm and looked directly at Tim, as if he was petrified of losing his chance with one of the only good things in his life, "I fucking love you, Babybird."

Tim slinked his way on top of Jason's lap, and wrapped him in a warm embrace. "We'll be here for the long ride, every step of the way."

We? Jason knew Tim meant well, but he's not ready to sing kumbaya with Bruce when they just had this breakthrough. "Listen, Tim, I'm not really ready to celebrate in the manor."

Tim laughed, "Who said anything about celebrating there?" Tim handed him a box with a positive pregnancy test in it, "Happy Father's Day, Jason."

Needless to say, that year was beginning of when Crime Alley had found no spikes in violence during Father's Day in years.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

When he stepped out back for a break, Tango looked up the definition of 'muscle memory' on his phone.

The ability to reproduce a particular movement without conscious thought, acquired as a result of frequent repetition of that movement.

Frequent repetition. Yeah, that was what he thought. Tango sighed, leaning his head against the brick wall and staring up at the sky. Jimmy had mentioned a brief stint in restaurants previously, and it didn't take long for his muscle memory of kitchen tasks to kick in, but there were other habits that came just a little too easily for Tango's liking.

The way he grinned expectantly after teasing or goading them, and looked confused when they didn't insult him back. How easily 'sorry' fell from his lips over and over for the smallest mistake, even for mistakes that weren't his. The way he laughed after getting flustered and fumbling something was adorable, but the oh my gosh, I'm so stupid! that followed was less so. The way he said I'm an idiot with such levity, said it like it was an immutable fact, didn't sit well with Tango.

All habits that came to him easily, like muscle memory. Like the result of something that had happened over and over and over.

It wasn't the first time he had noticed these little habits, but they stood out more now that there wasn't anyone around who was actively teasing him. Before, it had seemed like an act, a call-and-response game Jimmy played with his oldest friends. Now, seeing the response without the call, it just seemed...

When Skizz said you were great, Jimmy! You absolutely crushed it! after a particularly hectic shift, Jimmy's eyes widened with genuine surprise before a grin spread across his face.

"Really?" he asked, a little hesitance in his voice, like he fully expected Skizz to take it back and tell him no, he was awful.

"Really!" said Skizz, but exchanged a glance with Tango. The compliments came thick and fast after that, from both of them, and Tango loved the way Jimmy absolutely thrived under them. He would do anything to protect that smile, and he knew Skizz would do the same.

"Hey. Jimmy."

Jimmy turned to look at Tango while Skizz locked up the building. "Yeah?"

Tango smiled. "You're amazing."

He could see Jimmy's ears flush even under the dim streetlight. "I am, aren't I?" he said happily.

To anyone else the comment might have come across a little cocky, a little overconfident. But Tango heard the hesitance behind it, the uncertain hope of someone finally beginning to realize their worth.

Skizz laughed. "Look at this guy and his well-deserved confidence!" he teased, ruffling Jimmy's hair. He and Tango exhanged another look, this time one of victory rather than concern. "But yeah, you are, and don't you forget it!"

Jimmy beamed. It didn't matter how their shifts in the restaurant went anymore, thought Tango. Angry customers, burned food, broken dishes; he'd get over all of it, as long as Jimmy was smiling like that at the end of the day.

}{ Part Two }{

[singsweetmelodies]

AKA: angst, miscommunication and a/b/o, feat. brief/mentioned maxierre with piarles endgame (+ implied maxiel.) happy birthday @boxboxbrioche my love

"Hello, Charles," Max smiles when Charles runs into him (literally) in the Budapest paddock on Thursday. He's wearing the same Red Bull team shirt and jeans as ever, naturally, but something about him looks unusually relaxed and content. Sated, even.

Probably because he's been winning practically every race this season, Charles thinks. That's enough reason for anyone to be looking relaxed and content.

Still, when he steps in a little closer to fist-bump Max's proffered hand, he can't help but notice it. Max's scent is... more than just content. He smells like he's only just come out of heat, and whoever was taking care of him did a very good job of it. He doesn't smell like sex, precisely, but he smells like what Charles would imagine afterglow would, if it had a scent. Golden and lazy and sated.

Oh, he's got blockers on, of course, but Charles has always been blessed (or cursed, depending how you look at it) with a very good nose. So. He knows immediately.

Some too-perceptive instinct is telling him that the timing of this heat has something to do with Daniel's return to racing this weekend. Almost like Max... wanted to get his heat over with before he saw Daniel again?

...That's a big stretch, of course, and Charles would never dare say it out loud. (Except to Pierre, maybe, because Pierre loves theorising about the latest paddock gossip just as much as Charles does.)

So he just smiles politely at Max, and says "Hello" back, and wishes for Pierre to appear out of some corner of the paddock somewhere. It isn't that Charles hates Max, or whatever the media likes to spin, but it's also true that Max isn't Charles' most favourite person in the paddock. (Obviously, that honour goes to Pierre.)

No, Charles' and Max's relationship is simply that of colleagues - good enough, if a little bland.

Which is why Charles is not expecting it at all when Max leans a little closer with something that looks almost like a conspiratorial grin. Charles has no idea what Max might want to be conspiratorial about with him - it's not as though he's leaving Ferrari anytime soon, despite what everyone likes to speculate.

Surprisingly, what Max says to him is not racing or incident-related at all. "Do you know where Pierre is?" he asks, as though Charles is the most reliable source of the Alpine driver's whereabouts. (Charles shouldn't be, but he's very flattered.) "I still need to thank him."

"Thank him?" Charles echoes, a little puzzled. "For what?"

And then Max says the one thing that blows apart Charles' world and turns his day upside-down immediately. "For agreeing to spend my heat with me so last-minute."

He says it so casually, too, and Charles...

Well. Charles knows that many of the other unbonded omegas on the grid like to spend their heats with other drivers. This might seem contradictory at first, but the thing is - while they might not necessarily trust each other on track, you can always rely on the fact that another driver, at least, won't reveal details of that hook-up to the press anymore than you will. Most of the alpha drivers on the current grid are decent enough people off-track that you can trust you'd be taken good care of, too.

It's something that Charles has done himself, too, once or twice - mostly with Alex, who is always incredibly kind about it, and makes sure Charles is comfortable and well-hydrated afterwards.

But mostly, Charles spends his heats alone. He schedules them carefully so they won't interfere with races, and then he bears them on his own, teeth gritted as he works himself open over and over again and clings to whatever article of Pierre's clothing he can find nearby.

It's never good enough, never, but Charles has never really wanted another alpha. He only goes to Alex if his body genuinely cannot go without it anymore, and then it's purely a case of friend helping out a friend.

So, really, Charles has no reason to be this shocked that Max apparently spent his most recent heat with Pierre. The two of them are friends, aren't they? Much better than Charles and Max have ever pretended to be. There's no reason why they wouldn't spend a heat together, really.

Except...

Charles grits his teeth, and it's only years of media training that enables him to still pass it off as a smile. "He did?" he asks, tightly.

Max laughs, still happily unaware that he's taken Charles' day and shattered it like a glass breaking into unrecognisable shards. "Yes," he confirms, and then he bumps Charles' shoulder, almost unbearably conspiratorial again. "You, of course, would know why I now need to thank him."

No amount of media training in the world could have helped Charles keep up his smile in response to that. Max notices - how could he not - and his own smile falls. "You two have not...?" His voice rises up in the end, like he almost can't believe he even has to ask the question.

Charles tastes something sour in his mouth, and by the way Max flinches back, he's sure it must be all over his scent as well, blockers be damned. "No," is all Charles says, brusquely.

Max opens and closes his mouth for a moment, and then he reaches for Charles' shoulder. He hesitates, though, hand hovering awkwardly in the space between them. "I'm sorry," he says, and it sounds sincere. "For assuming. The two of you are so..." He makes a face. "You are good friends, so I thought if he would do it for me, he would of course do it for you too."

"No," Charles says again, and the word tastes acrid in his mouth. "We have never."

Not for lack of trying, Charles thinks bitterly, and then he forces himself to think of something else. Some excuse that Max will accept.

Fortunately, a little gaggle of people in bright Ferrari red are passing by, and Charles latches onto them with almost too much relief. "Ah, my team," he says, pointing. "I need to go."

It's stupidly obvious, as excuses go, but Max has the grace not to mention it. He just watches Charles go, biting his lip.

Charles wants to hate him. He wants to hate him more than anything else - for having a race-winning car, and a team that supports him properly, and championships, but more importantly than any of that, Charles wants to hate him for having Pierre.

It's not that Charles thinks Max is actually in love with Pierre, or even that they're courting. No, it was clearly just a case of friend-helping-out-friend. But even that is...

Unbearable. It is unbearable, because Charles hasn't had even that much.

Charles had only asked once, and only because he'd been stupid with pre-heat already and not thinking straight. Pierre's long, long silence before he'd said, very gently, "Charles... I don't think that's a good idea" had told him all he'd needed to know, anyway.

After that heat, though, Pierre had called Charles and made sure he was okay, and that he knew it wasn't personal, Pierre just didn't think it was a good idea to get that involved with another driver. Especially one who's also a friend.

Charles had accepted it at the time, and he's never had any reason to think that Pierre has changed his mind in any way.

Except now here Pierre is, apparently spending heats with Max fucking Verstappen, of all people. And, really. Out of everyone on the grid - every goddamn omega - it had to be Max, didn't it?

A part of Charles wants to fall to the floor in devastation, wants to tear at his hair and shake and cry to anyone who will listen, why doesn't he want me, why doesn't he want me?

But Charles remains standing, because even more than he's heartbroken, he's furious.

Pierre did not help Max through his heat because they're in love, or because they're courting. So, he must have done it as a favour to a friend.

Then why the hell would he not do the same for Charles?

Charles also asked him as a favour to a friend (and yes, maybe Charles wanted more, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask for that. He'd just asked for a favour, the way every unbonded omega on the goddamned grid asks their alpha friends for favours every once in a while.)

Pierre had said no, and that he doesn't do that. But he'd forgotten to mention the part where he apparently does do that.

If he were here, Charles might slap him clean through the face. It's not an urge he's often had when it comes to Pierre (or ever, really) but today...

Today. It's just. What the hell does Max have that he doesn't? Max and Pierre are friends? Charles and Pierre are better friends. Max is an omega? So is Charles, and he's better at that, too.

It's obviously not even about looks! Because Charles doesn't want to be rude, but he is definitely better-looking than Max. It's just a fact, as true as "the grass is green" or "Charles is Monégasque" or "Charles is in love with Pierre."

No. Fuck that. None of this makes sense.

If Pierre is willing to spend a heat with Max, then there's no reason why he can't help Charles through one, too. It's not like Charles is asking Pierre to love him back - no, he's long since made his peace with the fact that that, at least, is impossible.

Charles has always wanted too much, though, and if he sees even the faintest chance of getting what he wants, even if it is just in the form of a favour to a friend -- well. He will never not go for the gap.

So Charles waits, increasingly impatient, for his media and team obligations to be done for the day. As soon as they are, he heads for Alpine, because there is no way Pierre will have left already - he is far too dedicated to them, staying behind extra hours to learn as many names as he can and give as much feedback as possible and help with everything that needs helping.

Right, because isn't Pierre just so incredibly helpful. Normally, this would make Charles smile, fond - but today, it makes him want to snarl.

Helpful, yes. Except to him, apparently.

No. Charles will not accept that.

Various team members glance up when Charles storms into the Alpine hospitality, freezing with coffees half-way to their lips and tracking him like the spectators to a tennis match as he storms across their building and towards the driver's rooms. One particularly brave soul ventures an "Er..." but Charles is already across the room before he's even finished saying it.

Charles knows the way to Pierre's driver's room as easily as he knows the way to his own (incidentally, it's on the same side of the building) and it's mere seconds later that he's bursting through the door of Pierre's driver's room.

Pierre freezes when the door slams open, mouth caught in a comically surprised expression, but it relaxes quickly into a fond (if still somewhat surprised) smile. "Charlito!" he says, standing up and reaching a hand in Charles' general direction. "This is a nice surprise."

But Charles is not in any mood for pleasantries. "Did you spend a heat with Max," he asks, but it's not really a question as much as it is an accusation, pointed and sharp.

Pierre freezes again, the smile slowly dropping off his face. His scent goes bitter with unpleasant surprise. "I -"

"If you lie to me, I am going to slap you," Charles says, injecting the words with just enough of a snarl that Pierre will know he's not messing around.

Pierre's expression goes from shocked to hurt to angry almost faster than Charles can process. "I wasn't going to lie to you, Charlo. I would never. Not with you."

He sounds sincere enough about it that Charles almost feels guilty, but then Pierre adds, "He's just a friend who needed a favour" and Charles is right back to furious.

"I was a friend, and I needed a favour," Charles says bitingly. He doesn't have to say anything more, because he knows Pierre will understand exactly what he means.

Pierre's face shutters, closing off completely. Even his scent goes blank, like Pierre is deliberately shutting off every part of himself. "That's different."

"How?" Charles hisses at him, and Pierre obviously wasn't expecting the vehemence of it, because he stumbles a step back. "How the hell is it different, huh?"

Pierre's expression does something complicated, and he makes a rough noise, low in the back of his throat. "It just is," he says, and refuses to elaborate.

Charles is livid. "It just is?!" he explodes. "Tell me how it just is, Pierrot, because I sure as fuck don't get it. I am your friend - non, I am your best friend - but when I ask for this favour, you say no. Then when it is Max, you say yes?"

"It's different," Pierre says again, sharply, as though sharpness alone will make Charles drop the subject.

He really doesn't know Charles if he thinks that will work. "It is not different. Not at all. What, unless you are trying to say that you don't want me?"

"Of course I-" Pierre starts, then cuts himself off with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't want to do this with you, Charles."

"Well, I want to do this with you," Charles retorts, unfazed and as fuming as ever. "What is it, huh, Pierre? You prefer Max over me?"

"Of course not," Pierre says, and he has the audacity to sound almost offended.

"But you must, if you fucked him and not me," Charles snaps. He's not entirely sure what he's trying to accomplish here, but he knows - he knows that he's furious, and Pierre is being a fucking asshole, and he needs Pierre to admit that much. At least.

Pierre, however, seems determined to continue being a stubborn asshole. "It wasn't like that," he insists, and Charles sees red.

"It's exactly like that! I asked you to fuck me, to help me through my heat, and you said no because you do not want me."

And that, somehow, is the last straw.

"Shut up, Charles," Pierre growls - actually growls - at him. "Just, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't?" Charles snaps right back, goading. "Why don't you tell me, then?"

Pierre snarls again, guttural and furious, and Charles knows that he should be terrified. But right now, he's far too furious to care.

"Tell me," Charles goads again, because he knows that nothing will ever compel Pierre as much as a challenge will.

Pierre is breathing hard, his fists clenched, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "You think you know what happened with Max, huh?" he asks, and Charles has never heard him sound like that. Despite himself, it sends a thrill through Charles' whole body. "You think you know what I want and don't want?"

Charles lets his belligerent silence do the talking for him, and Pierre's eyes flash. "Well, do you know that none of it is true? Do you know that none of the rumours of me with all those omegas are true?"

"What do you--" Charles begins, but Pierre cuts him off with a single hand held up, raised as sharply as a slap.

"Do you know, Charlito," he says, almost viciously, "that I've never been able to date any other omega for longer than a few months because I was always comparing them to you?"

Charles jolts where he stands, all the breath wrenched from him. "What--"

But Pierre doesn't give him a moment to process that. "Do you know that I only agreed to spend this heat with Max because he was desperate and out of options?"

"Do you know," Pierre continues, dangerously soft, "that I had to think of you just to be able to come at all?" He stalks a single step closer to Charles. "Do you know that I had to pretend it was you all the time just so that my knot wouldn't go down?" Another step, and Charles is shaking all over, but he can't move. Pierre has him pinned down, completely rooted to the spot with his scorching gaze and world-ending words.

"Do you know," Pierre concludes, softest of all, "why I really said I wouldn't spend a heat with you?"

Charles isn't sure how he even manages to form the word. "Why?"

Pierre's eyes are so, so dark as he stops just in front of Charles, raising one hand to ghost just millimetres above Charles' collarbone. "Because," he says, and his voice is rough. "I knew that if I did, Charles, if I fucked you even just once, I wouldn't be able to hold back. I would bite you, then and there, and I would make you mine."

All the while that he's been speaking, Pierre has been tracing his fingers upwards, a slow, slow torturous slide mere centimetres above Charles' skin. Charles can almost feel the heat of his touch, almost but not quite, and when Pierre stops just below Charles' mating gland - Charles whines and shudders forward, the combination of Pierre's hand there and that word mine too much for him to resist.

Pierre's fingers touch the overheated skin of Charles' mating gland, and the world explodes.

Charles' knees buckle, and his head spins, and he has to press his thighs together in a desperate effort to ease the sudden and burning need there. He's wet, he can feel it, leaking slick all over the place just from that one touch.

Pierre jerks his hand back, of course, but even that split-second of contact was enough to destroy Charles perfectly.

Pierre is panting, and he looks about as wrecked as Charles feels. "So do not stand there and tell me that I don't want you, Charles," he says, and his voice shakes - anger or desperation, Charles can't tell. "Not when I have done nothing but want you for as long as I have known how to want."

Charles shudders, the full weight of Pierre's words sinking in on him all at once. As Charles stands there, processing, he watches as the world rearranges itself entirely.

Charles breathes in, and then he breathes out. "Fuck you, Pear," he says, only a little shakily. "No, seriously, fuck you. How obvious do you need me to be? I literally asked you to spend my heat with me!"

For a moment, Pierre looks so indignant that he forgets to be angry. "You asked it as a favour to a friend!" he protests. "I just said, I can't do that! Not if it's you."

"Yeah, well," Charles says waspishly, "I only asked it like that because I thought you would say no otherwise."

And all at once, Pierre's expression transforms as he comes to the same sudden and brilliant realisation Charles just had.

"Charles," he says, shell-shocked. "If you're saying what I think you're saying..."

He glances down at his hands, clenches them tightly into fists again, then looks back up at Charles, his gaze burning. "You have to know, you can't take it back. I'm not going to let you take it back. Not if you mean it."

"God, Pierre, you are so fucking stupid," Charles says, and alright, maybe he is still a little angry about the whole situation, after all. (He thinks he has the right to be, though.) "Why do you think I was so angry that you went for Max?"

When Pierre doesn't say anything immediately, Charles snaps off a sharp step into Pierre's space, flicking his fingers against Pierre's forehead. "Yeah, it's because I wanted you to choose me. Only me."

Pierre's hand comes up, grabbing Charles' wrist in a bruise-tight hold. He draws Charles' hand away from his face, but then he doesn't let go, just keeps holding on, fingers circling Charles' wrist like they're meant to fit there. "Only you?" he echoes, and it sounds like a question.

Charles nods, because there was never any other answer, and he's about to say it, too, but then Pierre kisses the words right off his mouth.

If Charles' world hadn't already exploded so thoroughly earlier, then it would now.

It's a good kiss. No, it's better than a good kiss - it's a fucking incredible kiss; Pierre's one hand still wrapped around Charles' wrist while the other finds its way to his waist, like it belongs there. Pierre kisses him like he's still a little angry, but also like he's never meant anything more, pouring every part of his soul into it. Pierre kisses him like he's already imagining the night they're going to spend together after this, and he kisses Charles like how he's planning to fuck him later.

Charles has no objections to that. None at all.

Well. Except the one.

He pulls away from the kiss, pressing his palm hard to the side of Pierre's face. "You're going to spend my next heat with me," he says, orders more like, and it's far too possessive, but he can't bring himself to care. Not one goddamned bit.

Pierre growls, low in his throat, and pulls Charles even closer to him. "No, chéri," he says, too-softly. "I'm going to spend every single heat with you from now on. Forever."

"Forever," Charles breathes, and then he kisses Pierre again, hard, making it a promise. "Forever."

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

imagine if you spoke a different language, or at least some of a different language. maybe you don't use it often, since there's a primary language all of Teyvat is accustomed to, but it slips out when you're overjoyed or elated about something. Childe didn't even know, since you rarely use it aside from vague muttering to yourself, and that's coming from someone who absolutely adores your voice and would let you talk all day if you wanted. you simply had no reason to use it and no moments of extreme happiness that would elicit it. until you meet Foul Legacy for the first time. you'd gone to see Childe after his weekly sparring- and probably help patch him up, since the Traveler nearly always won- and you happened to walk in a little earlier than usual. Childe was still in his Foul Legacy form, sitting on the floor, and let out an inadvertent yelp when your gazes locked. he curled into himself in shame as your mouth dropped open, trying to make himself smaller so you wouldn't see him in this- this corrupted, Abyssal form instead of his normal self. your stare burned through him, and he lets out a tiny whimper of fright. "Pretty!" you jog over and wrap your arms around his torso, a huge smile on your face. the word had slipped out in your language, but Childe can tell by the way you're beaming that it must've been something nice. you cup his cheeks, confident that this creature is your love, stumbling over your words as you try to convey your happiness. "Oh Ajax, you're beautiful! Please don't hide from me, I love all forms of you." you only tell him what you said when he asks hours later, burying your warming face into his shoulder as his arms encase you in a trembling hug, so astonished yet so glad at your words, your love.

[stellarspecter]

STWG daily prompt 2/16/24: napping

pairing: steddie, stobin

wc: 193

Steve woke to the rustling of sheets and quiet movement of the mattress. Blearily, he cracked his eyes open to find a dark, curly-haired shape with a knee on the bed and a hand on the blanket. Beside him, Robin snored peacefully, oblivious to the intruder.

“Eds?” He mumbled, unsure if this was real or not, caught in that dreamy space just before sleep.

“Hey Stevie,” the shape whispered, and Steve relaxed at his boyfriend's voice. “Go back to sleep, hon.”

Steve grumbled incoherently as the covers were lifted, bringing cold air into his and Robin's cozy blanket cocoon. Thankfully, it was quickly replaced with Eddie's warm body sliding in beside his own, getting comfortable with his arms wrapped around Steve.

He nuzzled his shoulder before settling in for a proper nap, his breathing slowly evening out in the dark bedroom. Fuzzily, Steve knew that there was still more to the day. They would have to get up, and eat dinner, and do chores, and all that boring adult stuff no one wanted to do. But for now, he had no responsibilities except slipping back into slumber in between his two favorite people.

[sexyzuka]

Dating Kiba Inuzuka (Kiba x Reader)

First Date

Your first date with Kiba was at the Konoha Zoo. You dragged him by the hand, excitedly taking him to the tiger exhibit. He wanted to see the wolves first, but he just couldn't resist your enthusiasm. He didn't want to admit it, but the big cats looked pretty fucking cool. He was also very impressed with your knowledge of zoology as you fervently prattled off the scientific names for every animal you visited that day.

A Lazy Saturday Afternoon

You and Kiba always argue about whether dogs or cats are better, but you find some middle ground by alternating between the dog and cat cafés you frequent. Sometimes you even see Kakashi visiting the Shiba Inu café, he does have a lot more free time since his retirement. You each have a fondness and appreciation for your partner's café of choice.

A Yearly Tradition

Once a year there's a Ninneko show that visits Konoha. You're always interested learning more about ninja cat breeding, so you make sure to clear your schedule weeks in advance. Kiba doesn't have much PTO, but he knows how important this show is to you, so he tells Kōtarō in no uncertain terms that he won't be responding to his pager that day, at all.

Guilty Pleasure Date Night

Although he'll never admit to it, Kiba likes it when you take silly selfies together while visiting your favourite maid café. You always pick the cat ears as your accessory, for both him and yourself. He begrudgingly makes a spectacle of putting them on, but it's impossible for him to say 'no' to you. Maybe it's just the atmosphere? He can't help but smile when he sees how happy you are shooting a "nya~" in his direction.

When you get back home you ask him for "Service with a smile, awoo?" and he eagerly obliges. He can't resist fulfilling all of his princess's desires. 💖

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — all-nighter.

SEPTEMBER 19, 1984

Junior year wouldn’t be so bad, Marty thinks, if everyone would quit breathing down his neck about how this is the year that really counts. This is the year that everyone would be looking at and scrutinizing, the deciding factor in the life-or-death coin toss for the rest of his life.

His future.

Which is why he’s desperately trying to give a shit about something he normally could not care less about.

But if anyone could help him care, it’s @doctorbrown .

“What the hell does calculating the area of a graph have to do with speed?!”

…well. Even Doc can only do so much.

“You don’t actually use this stuff, do ya, Doc? I mean the graphs and junk, not like… velocity and acceleration and whatever. I get that. But this has gotta be the most convoluted…”

Marty sighs, jogging his leg, knotting his hand tighter in his hair.

“I know I’m pretty dumb, but this is next-level stupid.”

It’s gonna be a long night.

[feathers-little-nest]

another fruitful day of literally nothing

[majicmarker]

well i think the problem is that i want to write something that makes me happy, but i'm Not happy, so trying to access that feeling is... murky.

[cerise-on-top]

hi!! not a x reader ask but more in general. What do you think Valeria, Laswell and Farrah’s weird/ dumbest habit? Adore ur stuff btw!

Hello! Thank you! These are pretty short as well, but it isn't particularly easy to come up with a dumb habit either!

Valeria’s, Farah’s and Laswell’s Weirdest Habit

Valeria: She has trouble stepping on the edge of shadows. Valeria either has to avoid the shadows on the ground or not step on their edges and step on them entirely. While she can step on a shadow’s edge if she needs to, and as long as she doesn’t look like an idiot in front of her people, she will avoid doing so if she can. She knows it’s stupid, she knows it doesn’t make any sense, but she can’t help it either way.

Farah: She counts her steps whenever she takes a short walk somewhere. Again, she doesn’t know the reason why she does it, she just does. Naturally, she won’t do it when she takes a long walk, but whenever she has a place to get to that’s 200 steps away at most, she’ll count. Even when she’s not doing it consciously, she’ll subconsciously count her steps. It serves no purpose whatsoever but it’s something she’s been doing ever since she was a kid.

Laswell: She has a habit of eating food in a specific order. The part which she likes the least will have been eaten up before anything else, that way the taste of the best part of her food can linger longer than anything else. While she will eat things in a “random” order once she’s aware she looks stupid having eaten one thing for a long time, she will always finish her least favorite part first, no exceptions. Unless there’s a salad, in which case she’ll always finish the salad first.

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[if-mirrormine]

I want to give Grayson the world holy shit. I would literally sacrifice my life for him if need be.

Also, how would ROs react if MC called them and they obviously sounded panicked, but before MC could tell RO what happened/what's happening, the call disconnected?

I hope you're doing well!!🫶

grayson's whole life flashes before his eyes and he immediately assumes the worst. He just about enlists the entire police force to go out and find the mc.

kennedy tells herself to panic slowly. it's not guaranteed that the mc is in real danger and she tries to keep calm but she's really freaking out just below the surface.

alex is the most chill out of everyone but there is a sense of urgency in the way in which they move. they're going to go out and find mc themself but they're going to keep a level head.

[90sbee]

if no one has done a leon fic in spanish comparing him to a lion due to the obvious fact that leon means lion in spanish. then i'll gladly be the first.