#still figuring it all out maybe there’s a way to get around but man

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[valkyrieromanoff]

+18 (explicit content)

Are you somewhere out there hopin’ I'll wait for you? Are you countin’ down the days 'til I break?

JAMES KELLY knew he shouldn’t be wishing for your boyfriend to cheat on you, to get into an accident, or to simply call it quits. A decent man wouldn’t hope for his ex-girlfriend to have her heart broken. But then again, no one would accuse James of being decent.

He told himself your little relationship was doomed from the start. It couldn’t last. You didn’t love this guy—not the way you loved him. What you had now couldn’t even touch what the two of you once shared.

And yet, James knew the truth. He was the one who wrecked it all. He’d messed up—big time. Going out with Emily, knowing full well how insecure you felt about her, the girl he’d dated back in school. Taking her home that night under the excuse of rain, and staying when she kissed him. She threw herself at him, sure, but deep down he knew he could’ve stopped it. Should’ve stopped it.

If regret could kill, James figured he’d already be six feet under. He sighed heavily, his lips still glistening with the whiskey he’d been drinking. The bottle sat at his feet, the amber liquid sloshing faintly as he set it down. He leaned back on the couch, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

James' mind drifted back to you, as it so often did when he was alone and drunk, his thoughts clouded with regret and desire. He pictured your face, your smile, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed at something silly he'd said.

Memories of your time together flashed through his mind like a bittersweet slideshow.His hand drifted lower, slipping inside the waistband of his sweatpants. He groaned softly as his fingers wrapped around his hardening cock, already stiff from the whiskey and the thoughts of you.

He started to stroke himself slowly, imagining it was your hand, your touch. "Fuck, sugar," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough. "Miss you so goddamn much."

James sighs heavily, eyes glazed with lust and longing. Damn baby, the way you used to look at me with those smirkin' lips, always so proud and happy to have me at your mercy. Seeing you grin like the cat that caught the canary, knowing you were about to blow my fuckin' mind.

He picked up the pace, his hand pumping furiously along his thick shaft. And that mouth, fuck! The way your little pink tongue would lick and swirl around my thick cock, teasing the hell outta me before you wrapped those sexy lips around it.

He could feel the heat building, the pressure growing in his heavy balls. I can still feel how soft and warm and wet it was, sugar. He was close, so fucking close. He gritted his teeth, his abs flexing as he chased his release.

"Shit, fuck, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," he grunted, his voice strained.

His cock throbbed and pulsed in his grip as he exploded, thick ropes of cum shooting out and painting his chest and stomach. For a long moment, he just sat there, panting harshly as the waves of pleasure washed over him. The image of you lingered in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of what he'd lost. Of the love he'd thrown away like a fucking idiot.

Finally, he grabbed a nearby shirt and cleaned himself up, tossing it aside carelessly. He took another long swig of whiskey, the burn of it in his throat a poor substitute for the ache in his heart. He knew he needed to move on, to let you go. But god help him, he just couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever

[storiesandthoughtsf1]

Love for the race (desire for the chase) - Chapter 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x teammate!reader

Summary: Pre-season testing couldn't come fast enough, because you had finally made it to Formula 1. It was everything you had ever wanted, nothing was going to ruin your mood now. Not even your idiotic teammate.

Warnings: Max being an asshole ngl lol, christian horner unfortunately because I need the team principal for the storyline

Word count: 1,3K

Author's notes: Welcome to my new enemies to lovers series!! I can't wait to share this story with you guys I really love what I have so far! Chapters will for sure get longer from now on, this was just the start to set the mood. Please note that this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. Not all characters are real, because I don't know the rbr team enough for that lol. Your race engineer Robin might also low-key be based on Robin Scherbatsky, because I was watching himym while I was working on this :) Also please note that English isn’t my first language!

If just you had known what your first year racing in Formula 1 would be like. How you bit by bit had to realise what you had thought maybe hadn’t been the whole truth. But there was one thing you knew for sure, Max Verstappen was one complicated man.

Wednesday, 21st February 2024Bahrain International Circuit, Sahkir, Bahrain

The whole circus that was Formula 1 was finally back, new rookies, plenty of familiar faces, and everyone in between filling the pitlane and paddock. The Red Bull garage was buzzing with life once again, pre-season testing finally having started up. The big change for them? Max Verstappen had gotten a new teammate. But it wasn’t just any new teammate, no, it was the first woman the sport had seen in decades. A 24 year old woman that Red Bull had gotten a hold of over the winter, as she had shown great promise in the feeder series. You. And you very well knew this year wouldn’t be easy, far from it actually. Not only as the first woman in too long, but also as Max Verstappen’s teammate. The reputation Red Bull had wasn’t subtle, and you knew it would be a challenge to drive alongside the Dutchman. But a challenge you couldn’t wait for. 

Today was your first day in the car. You had just finished your first long stint, the car parked in the garage. As you climbed out of the car, you still felt the adrenaline rush course through you. Your very first time on track in this year’s Formula 1 car, and it had felt beyond anything you had ever imagined. Faster than you had ever imagined. You exited the car with a huge smile on your face, slowly beginning to take off your helmet so you could go debrief with your race engineer Robin. 

The sight of the entire garage moving around in sync made you smile, the disbelief of you actually having made it to Formula 1 still apparent. Yet here you were, with your whole team. Your team. You looked around as you walked towards Robin, and saw your team principal Christian Horner stand in the garage too. Right beside your teammate.

Max was seated on a chair in front of the screens that showed your lap time data. As you pulled off your helmet you caught the sight of him, his arms crossed as he stared at the screen in front of him with a harsh look on his face. But you tore your eyes off of him, figuring he must be looking at some data.

  “She’s fast.” One of the engineers said with an impressed look on his face, nodding approvingly at your lap times. The triumph on your face had been unmistakable as you had stepped out of your car, and in fact you didn’t need anyone to tell you that you had nailed it, because you very well knew. Everyone knew. 

Max’s leg bounced rapidly as he sat on the chair, arms crossed and his jaw locked tight. He had never been the type to give away much through his facial expressions, but the way his eyes lingered now on the data screens told a different story. 

So while the garage buzzed with activity and chatter from the mechanics and engineers, you were so caught up in it that you hadn’t seen the look on your teammate’s face that brought a deep contrast to the rest of the people there. You were focused on the electric atmosphere that your last stint had formed, smiling at your mechanics who all greeted you with comments of approval. Totally unaware of how the sight of you soaking in that praise, your head held high with that infectious smile, itched him like a splinter he couldn’t ignore. 

  “Fast doesn’t mean ready.” The words left his lips before he could stop them, or even think of what he had just uttered. Even though they were directed at the engineer seated right beside him, the engineer who had called you fast to begin with, his comment had been loud enough to catch the attention of others. Most importantly, you. 

Suddenly all sound in the garage died out. Like everything came to a halt as if time stood still. Your head turned to look in Max’s direction, watching how he still looked at the screen in front of him.. His brows were furrowed, arms still crossed, with his legs spread widely apart. You, halfway through pulling off your last glove, paused in your steps as you glanced at him. Taking in the weight of his remark. 

  “Sorry, what was that?” You spoke up, much to just about everyone’s surprise. The tension in the garage was heavy now, as if everyone were holding their breath. Waiting to see what would happen next.

Max finally glanced your way, his expression sharp and clearly unapologetic. He leaned back in his chair, vaguely gesturing at the screen in front of him. It made your blood boil.

  “You heard me. Quick lap times don’t mean much when you’re all over the place in the corners like that. You’re lucky it’s testing, not a race.” His voice was cold, blue eyes piercing their way straight into your soul. Your stomach twisted at his words, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. This was your very first day, and you weren’t about to get on everyone’s bad side for getting into a fight with their reigning world champion. Even when he acted disrespectfully.

  “I didn’t feel lucky out there, just fast.” You said, your pulse loud in your ears. Yet your exterior was kept calm, and while your words were indeed stern, they didn’t display anger. “I’m not here to give you an easy time, and I’m not afraid to push harder”

The workers around you exchanged uneasy glances at the situation unfolding right in front of them. Max moved in his seat on the chair, leaning further back and resting his one elbow on the armrest. He shrugged.

  “Being fast won’t do you any good when it matters. You’ll push too hard, make mistakes, and then what? The rest of the team, we have to clean up your mess just because you wanted to be reckless?” His words were meant to hurt now, like a spike boring its way into your chest repeatedly. Your jaw tightened, slowly feeling the anger bubble up inside of you, no matter how much you tried to keep it at bay. You told yourself it was stupid to fuel the fire, but at the same time you did not want him to walk all over you. Wanted to show that you were here to be taken seriously, and not just bow down to him. 

  “Good thing I’m not gonna make any then.” You shrugged at him as you spoke, trying to keep your cool and controlled facade. It was obvious that your words stirred something in Max, his lips pressed into a thin line, icy blue eyes narrowed. For a moment it looked like he was about to respond, to further complicate matters, but that was when Christian Horner seemed to come to his senses, and decide to put an end to this.

He physically stepped in between the two of you in the most Team Principal way he possibly could, putting his hands up to tell you to back off. “Alright that’s enough, both of you.” He looked pointedly at Max first, then turned his eyes to you and to the same, his frustration evident. 

He kept his eyes on you as he spoke up again. “Good run. Go debrief with Robin.” It was clear his words weren’t up for discussion, it was an outright demand. You nodded, walking over to your engineer, Christian turning his attention to the Dutchman.

  “You’re up next, let’s focus on the car, not each other please.” Horner said sternly, not moving until Max had shown he had understood and gone to get ready. But not before he had sent an extra look your way with narrowed eyes. The blood boiling in his body. 

The silence in the garage remained for a moment longer before the activity came back to life, the tension reduced to a lingering shadow.

But still, this wasn’t something you were about to just let go. You thought his comments had been outright disrespectful, and they bothered you deep inside of you. There was one thing you knew for sure.

That was the day you swore you despised Max Verstappen.

———————————————

Thank you so much for reading this first chapter. Can't wait to share more with you! Feedback is always much appreciated!<3

[pineapplehazard]

Buck had been particularly down this week. Bobby couldn't help but notice how little excitement Buck had shown about the team playing a role in Brad's show. Knowing how smiley and happy he usually got whenever they encountered camera crews or filming sets, the captain had expected the kid to be jumping around like a golden retriever. But Buck had let out a barely audible, “Oh... that's cool,” and when Chimney started joking about the miracle of them being allowed on set—considering Bobby and Eddie had insulted the show and its “star”—Buck had barely taken the time to flash the fakest, weakest smile ever before turning away, leaving the conversation.

Bobby had also noticed the absence of baked goods from Buck over the following week. He had been so proud of him for finding an alternative to contacting Tommy, trying to separate himself from that failed relationship in a healthy way. Maybe it was a bit much to actually be considered healthy, but spending overtime baking was definitely one of the less destructive coping mechanisms someone on this team had ever used.

Now, this could have meant that Buck had finally come to terms with the breakup—or even better, that he had finally realized he deserved a much better partner than Tommy had been. But Bobby knew better than to be too hopeful.

The sudden halt in Buck’s baking habit could also mean two terrible things:

He and Tommy had somehow gotten back together.

Buck’s mood had dropped so low that even baking wasn’t enough to cope.

Somehow, the hickey blatantly visible on the young man’s neck didn’t help Bobby figure out which option had won.

As Bobby prepared lunch, he couldn’t help but watch his team, hoping to see in them the same worry he felt for his kid.

Hen was focused on the video game in which she was currently beating Buck. If she was worried about him, it was well hidden behind sarcastic comments and playful shoves on the sofa.

Eddie, however… Eddie was watching Buck with a complicated expression on his face. Bobby sighed. What a terrible time to have a revelation, Diaz. (Then again, Bobby knew better than to hope that either of these two idiots would realize what they were to each other anytime soon.)

“I’m afraid we’re back to Buck 1.0, Cap,” Chimney said, coming up behind him at the counter, resigned.

“1.0?”

“Truckstealer Buck, if you prefer. It’s too bad. I think we were at least on Buck 5.0 by now. Maybe 6.0? Do you think the lightning strike caused an update?”

Bobby gripped the pan handle tighter than he should have at that unnecessary reminder.

“A hickey doesn’t mean he’s back to his former bad habits…” the captain said, uncertain of who he was trying to convince.

“Sure, no. But three hook-up dates in three days?”

Bobby didn’t answer, but his face must have said enough. Chimney sighed and shook his head.

“I know… It’s bad. He even refused to babysit Jee or come over for dinner! Buck loves seeing Jee!”

Their conversation was interrupted by the end of Hen and Buck’s game. Chimney left to set the table, grumbling about how he should have tried harder to stop Buck before he even started dating that “asshole.”

None of it was mentioned for the rest of the shift. Buck tried to act as usual, Hen managed to do so, Eddie brooded, and Chimney and Bobby exchanged concerned glances from time to time.

Bobby remembered his talks with Buck when he’d started his relationship with Abby, and later, the conversations they’d had after the Buckleys’ first visit to LA. He remembered how proud Buck had been of his personal growth—of no longer needing to be used to feel like he mattered. Bobby thought of all this and decided he couldn’t just watch Buck destroy all his progress. His kid was hurting, and Bobby was going to help him get better.

Which led the captain to be standing in front of Buck’s door.

For a second, he hesitated, realizing suddenly that he might find Buck in a compromising position, considering the frequency of the “hook-up dates” Chimney had described. Still, he knocked.

Not two minutes passed before the door opened to Buck, fully dressed (thank God) and apparently alone.

“Bobby?” Buck frowned, clearly perplexed by his captain’s presence but still stepped aside to let him in. “I’m—I’m sorry, it’s a bit of a mess right now, but, um… come in?”

As Bobby walked in, he did notice the “bit of a mess.” He wouldn’t go so far as to say the loft was unrecognizable—he had spent too much time in it after bombings, lightning strikes, and housefires not to recognize the place—but it did look like a tornado had made its way inside. Most of Buck’s baking instruments were scattered across the central island, empty flour bags and takeout boxes filling the rare voids.

The living room wasn’t much better. Dirty T-shirts and sweatshirts were lazily thrown on the chairs, and by the couch, DVDs and… Lego boxes? covered the floor.

Bobby took a determined breath and looked Buck right in the eyes. “I think we need to talk.”

Buck’s confusion turned to dread. “Is everything okay? Is Athena—”

“Athena’s fine. Everyone’s fine,” Bobby reassured. “Except you, it seems.”

“What?”

Grabbing the kid’s arm, he guided him to the table. “Stop gaping like a fish and sit, Buckley.”

Dirty sweatshirts were thrown further away, they both sat, accompanied by an awkward silence. Buck wouldn't meet Bobby's eyes, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I'm going to talk, Buck, and I would like for you to listen, to hear what I'm trying to say... Okay? This isn't a reprimand or anything like that, I'm just worried about you, kid."

At that, Buck finally raised his head, and god, those sad blue eyes could really break Bobby's heart over and over again.

"I couldn't help but notice a change in your behavior recently. You're not smiling as much as you used to, you're not baking anymore, you're avoiding your sister apparently, and visibly you've been..." The man gestured awkwardly to the hickey. "going out? Again. And that's a lot of signs indicating that you're not doing very well."

Buck just nodded, lips pinched and eyes watery. Bobby suddenly regretted choosing to have a whole table between them. He should have been holding Buck close, in such a good hug that it would shield the boy from all of his problems.

"I know from experience that when we suffer, we tend to lean on our bad habits, and we say to ourselves that it's because they're comfortable, but in truth, we go back to them because we know that they hurt us."

"Bobby..."

"And I know it might not be my place, but I'm not certain that you going out on dates with different people, and... what follows, is actually doing you any good."

In front of him, Buck had become red, stumbling on his words, embarrassed.

"I—uh—hm... Bobby, I don't—I have not been sleeping around, if that's what you're worried about."

Bobby's eyebrow lifted by itself, too skeptical considering the purple mark on the young one's neck.

"Okay, I... I had one date. Yesterday. And it didn't go further than what you can see, actually. He... He wasn't who I really wanted."

Oh, Tommy Kinnard. If punching people in the street was more accepted... How could someone voluntarly decide to break this boy's precious heart?

"Then why couldn't you see your sister and your niece? Two different times?"

"Well... I was busy...," Buck gestured to the whole flat, "sulking... as you can see."

"That's all?" Bobby asked, unconvinced.

"No..." Hesitation passed on Buck's face before he continued. "Can I say something terrible?... They're too happy. I mean, I'm glad that they are! But... I didn't think I could have survived spending time with the perfect happy family... Maddie and Chim are so happy together... They're married, and they have a wonderful daughter who's as shining as them, and... They're the reminder of everything I've just lost, you know?"

Bobby didn't know, actually. Sure, things had been going well enough between Buck and Kinnard, but to think that the kid was already projecting marriage and children with this man? Bobby had been lightyears away from imagining things were that serious between them. He should have known. Buck always went all in in his relationships. Now the captain felt terrible with how lightly they all had approached his breakup, if Buck had been grieving this entire future he had envisionned.

"Sometimes you meet someone thinking that they're the one, and it seems so perfect that the idea that they could leave you one day never crosses your mind... But sometimes they do... and it hurts. It's normal that it hurts." As Bobby talked, the young man just nodded, wiping his nose from time to time. "And you're grieving, because no matter how short it was," Buck frowned. "what you had with them was real. What matters, Buck, is that you can cherish what you had without punishing yourself for not having it anymore."

At this point, Buck was barely holding his tears, and Bobby decided that enough talking had been done. He walked around the table and wrapped his arms around the boy.

"It's too hard."

For a moment, they stayed like this, Buck holding Bobby like he was his lifeline, wetting his captain's T-shirt with his tears. Oh, Bobby wished he could take all his pain away. Until he found a way to do that, he would continue to hold him tight.

"It feels like my one real happiness was right in front of me, but it got snatched away before I could really catch it."

"It might feel like it right now, but I'm sure you will find happiness, Buck. It might just not be with Tommy."

The boy suddenly froze in his arms.

"...With who?"

[wowzees]

no matter what

lando norris x reader

y/n is not used!

a/n: this is a short story from uni- i have to make a collection of them

the one i posted earlier was also one, but these have not recived feedback from my professer or have been majorly edited. enjoy!

High school felt like the longest four years of my life. Days blurred into each other, routines became a way of life, and I thought I had everything figured out. I was one of those kids who had his group of friends, the sport he played, and the classes he took, all laid out in a neat, predictable order. Nothing ever really changed.

And then, there was her.

She’d been there from the start. The girl who wasn’t just a friend,she was something more, though I never said it out loud. We’d grown up together, laughed at the same inside jokes, gotten in trouble for the same stupid things. She knew me better than anyone else, maybe even better than I knew myself. She was the one I could count on for anything. She was the one who could make me laugh on days when nothing felt right. When life got heavy, when there was uncertainty about my future, she was the one I turned to. And I thought that would never change. Or maybe I didn’t think about it at all. Why would I need to? She was always there, like a constant in my life, something I could rely on. But looking back, I see the warning signs. Small things that I chose not to notice. 

At first, it was little things— how she stopped coming to my house after school everyday. How she stopped calling me for big milestones. It’s easy to ignore changes like that. Until they hit you all at once. And then, it was too late.

Without her presence, I started hanging out with the kids from my soccer team more, and more. I told them about all my problems with her. Their solution? They wanted me to prank her. I wanted to fit in. So, I agreed.

Maybe I was too busy with soccer, or maybe I just took her for granted. But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing her the way I always had. I saw how my actions hurt her. But, somewhere along the way i stopped seeing that. I stopped seeing how my actions hurt her.

But I didn’t think much about it at the time. After all, things had always worked themselves out between us, right? I guess I never thought I’d lose her, guess I thought that she’d always be there.

How wrong I was.

And seeing her now after graduation, getting ready to go to college and saying goodbye to friends for one last time, I can't help but remember a time when things were so much simpler.

Age, 7. Grade, 2

“Lan, wait up” she yelled, peddling her feet. I slowed my bike down and turned to face her. 

“Hurry up! You're being slow.” she peddled faster. Too fast. I watched in slow motion as she rides over a rock, flies through the air as if it’s molasses, then falls in what seems the same way a feather falls through the air. Then promptly crashes into a trashcan, scattering trash all around and on top of her. 

I quickly stopped my bike and ran to her. She was sitting there, covered in trash from the trash can, pouting. As I stood over her, and saw her covered in trash, I almost laughed. “Stop! It’s really not funny” she sniffled, though she now seemed a little happier. 

“I've bin waiting for this to happen” I joke, hoping to make her laugh.

“It's really not that funny” she snorts while giggling.

 “Yeah, well you’re still laughing” I argue. As she struggles to her feet, I realize I should probably help her. As I move to put her arm around my shoulder, she shoves me off. 

“I don't need your help, butthead” she says, crossing her arms and stares at me with her lips pursed. 

“Sorry, man, chill.” I say, not really understanding why she didn't want help. 

“I got worse when I first started playing volleyball, it's just a little scrape on my knee. It’ll heal” 

"Ok "I mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

As we walked home, we talked about silly things, like how funny she looked covered in trash, or about the people we didn't like at school. Before we parted ways, she threw her arms around me and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss that was gone as soon as it started to my cheek. “Bye Lando! I'll see you tomorrow at school!” she said over her shoulder as she ran home.

“Bye” I yell, after she had already disappeared into the house, my cheeks still red.

She had always been brave in her own way. Whether it was running into a trash can then getting back up with a skinned knee and no tears, or hiding her fears behind that stubborn smile of hers, she never changed. She was always the same, brave girl I had known since I was a kid. I wish I had known then how much that bravery would change the course of our friendship.

Age, 12  Grade 7.

The ferris wheel creaked more and more the higher up it went, carrying us higher, and higher into the night sky. Below we could see the rest of the fair, all the people enjoying themselves just like we are.

Her posture was slumped, and she was practically shaking on the little metal bench that lines the side of the carriage.

“Are you scared?” I ask. This wasn't a very normal occurrence, and I was honestly a little surprised. 

“What? Me? No! Of course not. I don't get scared” she responded, her voice shaky, and honestly not very convincing. 

“Hey, it's okay if you are scared. We all have things we are scared of; it doesn't make you weak.” I say in a soft tone, understanding when to tease and when to be comforting. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah? Good, me neither. Honestly, it's really nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice being up here.”

“I guess it is pretty nice.”

“It's really pretty,” I say with a sigh.

“It is,” she responds with an airy voice.

Little did I know that while I was staring at the sky, she was looking at me.

Ever since that night on the ferris wheel, I had developed a liking for stars. She learned more about stars for me, though I didn't know that then. I thought it was just a coincidence, not something carefully planned. Ever since then, we would spend nights under the stars together, gazing upwards.

Age, 15. Grade 9.

“And that one’s named Altair” she said, pointing up at the brightest star in the sky.

“How do you know this?” I ask while chuckling.

“I learned it when I was in 8th grade for my science fair project. I won.”

“I know, you’ve only told me like a million times.”

“I have not!”

“Uh, yes you have.”

“Excuse yo- wow, it's like, really cold.”

“Here,” I say, shrugging my sweatshirt off. “Take it.”

“No, it's fine really. I don't need it, I’m fine.”

“If you don't take it, I’m actually gonna go insane!”

“Fine” she huffed, sticking her tongue out at me. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“You're welcome.”

“Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“We'll always be best friends, right?”

“Of course we will. No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Back then, No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep. Before our future became closer and closer, before I found out she would be going to Yale. No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep under the soft lighting of the stars, but under the fluorescent lights in the highschool hallways, and the pressure from the guys, the promise broke apart. 

“Hey Lan!” she exclaims, coming up to me “Hey,” I respond. “Where are your glasses?” I ask. She has always loved her glasses. She always said it gave her more personality, though I disagree. She has plenty of personality already. 

“Oh, I just switched to contacts for volleyball! It's too impractical to have to play without being able to see, ya know? Do you like them?” I actually think that she looks stunning with or without glasses, but since my friends from the soccer team are with me, I just say 

“ I dunno man, it kinda makes your eyes look too close together.” I feel absolutely terrible as I practically see her deflate. Her normally radiant smile disappears, her shoulders begin to tremble, and her eyes go glassy. At first, she didn't say anything. I could practically see her brain thinking of ways to respond. She was trying to act relaxed about it, but I knew her well. She doesn't do relaxed about these types of things.

 I hear the boys snickering from behind me, making stupid comments about how “he is so right” and “how can she not see that herself?” and “why does she talk so much?”. I'm actually about to turn around and tell them to shut up, and that I am the only one allowed to tease her like that, but before I can, she says something.

“Oh. Well, uh, I should be going to class. I'll see you later, Lando,” she mumbles. Her normally confident posture seemed impossibly timid and shy. Her posture didn't say ‘see you later’.  It said ‘leave me alone’.

While she walked down the hallway, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that she didn't call me Lan .

The next few days, I tried finding her, though she kept on avoiding me. Finally, I found her sitting outside at the tables, eating her lunch alone.

“Hey” I greet softly, sitting down at the table outside. 

“What do you want?” she responded, her tone sharp. She was wearing her glasses again.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said on Tuesday.” I say, barely audible.

“If you're going to say something, say it louder.”

“I wanted to apologize for what I said.” 

“Do you? Do you really? Or is this just another sick prank you and your friends are playing on me, huh? I stood there and took it in tenth grade, when you made fun of my brother, who, by the way looks up to you, in the cafeteria. I stood there and took it in eleventh grade when you texted everyone from my phone things that I would never, ever say about someone and especially TO someone, posted things on instagram that I would NEVER post, and then humiliated me by making me think that you were seriously hurt, then jump up and say “it's a prank” after i started crying? I even stood there and took it when you told me that my eyes were too close together! The one thing you know I'm insecure about, and you make fun of it? You’ve changed Lando! You and your stupid friends have made high school horrible for me! And even though you've been rude, and you've been mean, and you've in general been a nightmare to be around, I'm still in love with you, and I have been for the last 10 years! And I'm done with this! I will not, will not sit here and let you bully me because I’m your ‘best friend’! I stayed your friend because I thought you would notice me! I thought you would realize, but you didn't! And I’m done waiting, okay? I’m done. Bye, Lando.”

By now, she was crying. Before I could respond to her and apologize, I hear laughing and jeering coming from behind me. I turn around and march over to where the boys are standing. They chuckle upon seeing me, and I absolutely lose it.

“Are you guys actually stupid? You made me lose the most important thing in my life, because you ‘thought it would be funny’? She is worth more than you guys will ever be. She was a better friend, a better athlete, but most importantly, a better person than you guys! I’m done with y’all.” 

I turn back to where she was standing, but she's not there anymore.

The next few days, I look for her. I see her a couple of times, but she always manages to avoid me. 

One night, as I’m packing for college, I hear someone knocking on the front door.

I run down the stairs, thinking it’s the pizza I ordered for me and my sister, but it’s not. It’s her.

“Uhm, I just wanted to return this.” she says, handing me my sweatshirt that i gave to her 3 years ago. “I just thought I should return it before I leave for Yale.”

“When do you leave?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“Tomorrow.” 

The second I hear that word, my world stops. I hazily thank her for bringing the sweatshirt back, then slam the door. I vaguely remember stumbling up the stairs, and sitting down on my bed, my mind running a thousand miles a minute.

 I’m going to have to live without the person who was there for me at every problem, at every bad game, at every milestone in my life, and I lost her because of my own mistakes. I lost her because I let those stupid kids influence my decisions. I lost her because I didn't know how to communicate my feelings. And now, I’ll never get her back.

I was right. I never got her back. And deep down inside, I knew I was never going to get her back. I knew this when I met Emma. I knew this when I proposed to Emma. I knew this when I invited her to our wedding. But that truly, did not prepare me for when I saw her.

“And do you, Lando Norris, take Emma Sand to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death do you part? ” asked the priest, his voice echoing through the church that held all of our friends and loved ones. 

“ I do.” 

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. After years of knowing her,  I could almost hear her thinking ‘that should have been me.’

And I feel horrible and disgusting and gross thinking this on my wedding day, but I'm inclined to agree. It should have been her. And it would have been, if not for my own stupidity.

And seeing her, brought me right back to all those years ago. And made me wonder; what happened to ‘no matter what.’

[in1-nutshell]

And oh god the reveal.  Maybe Magneto finally got his dates and order and realized “oh shit, that's my kid”.  Maybe Ultra magnus sent a email which sent the entire us government into a panic because how the fuck did this escape notice.  What if when Magneto figured it out he tried to talk to them.  He calls them by their birth name, not the name the government gave them to protect them, or the name their robot family gave them, the name he gave them.  “I go by Fearless now, Eric” (man imagine getting disowned by your own kid).  As far as the X-men are concerned, their favorite telenovela just got better.  As for the lost light, oh boy get ready for headcanons.  Running on the idea that Cybertronians are an asexual species, their whole family units are created through adoption.  To create that bond with someone is a very important and almost sacred choice.  To abandon a child you chose to take in for a selfish reason is borderline unheard of.  Even with IDW Ophelia, Megs left her behind originally to protect her, shitty yes, but still an action born out of the desire to keep her safe, still lining up with the importance of these bonds to cybertronians.  Needless to say, the general opinion of magento went from “eh, whatever, we have megatron on board.” to “fuck this one guy in particular”

Once I get enough energy and patience, I will write a longer piece on this AU.

Hope you enjoy!

AU: Magneto is Fearless's Dad (part 2)

SFW, Angst, Familial, Platonic, Mention of X Men 97, Human reader

MTMTE/ XMEN 97

It had been a couple of days since Fearless’s failed assassination attempt and there were still no leads.

A couple of villains were called into question, even some government officials, but nothing solid.

But that wasn’t the most important thing.

The Fearless and Magneto beef was still raging on strong.

Finally at 1 in the morning, Magneto realizes why Fearless looked so familiar.

He had known their mother… they looked like…

…

Like the child he left behind all those years ago...

…

…

…Oh, this made too much sense it hurt.

The Brick of Parenthood had finally found its target.

He always thought that they would have led a normal life on Earth, not galivanting through space with giant alien robots, one which was a genocidal ex warlord.

Take it for his kid to do something strange and reckless.

Seeing the little kid he knew now all grown up sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

Then came a thought... arguably a terrible idea.

Talking to them.

There was without a doubt in Magneto’s mind that they knew who he was, it explained in the pained look they gave him at times.

He needed to talk to them, now.

Fearless was happily talking with Morph when he came, asking to talk to them in private.

They don’t like the look the older man is giving them.

It looked like pity and… pain?

They warily agree.

The pair makes their way into a room in the mansion. Fearless crosses their arms. Fearless: “So, what did you want to talk about?” Magneto: “… It has been a long time since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” Fearless stiffened. Fearless: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Magento: “I did not raise a liar.” Fearless’s eyes widened and unconsciously takes a step back. Magneto: “My little Lionheart… it has been a long time.” The name brought flashbacks of a little kid reaching out for a hug to their tall father. They shake their head. Fearless: “I go by Fearless, Eric. That is the name I go by now, the one MY Family gave me. I expect you to at least have the decency to respect that.” Magneto: “… Fine then… Fearless.” Fearless huffs as they tighten their arms around themselves. Fearless: “Was this what you wanted to talk about? Because if it is your wasting your time and mine.” They turn to open the door behind them, but the metal locks lock themselves. Fearless: “…Unlock the doors Magneto.” Magneto: “Not until we talk.” Fearless: “What is there to talk about?” Fearless tries opening the door with no luck. Magneto: “It has been years since I’ve last seen you child.” Fearless: “And who’s fault was that, Eric. Now if you can be so kind as to open the door—” Magneto: “You didn’t have the X gene Fearless. Your birth stood against so many things I stood against at the time. I had to leave you. You must understand that.” Fearless: “I don’t have to understand Jack Magneto! Now let me out!” Fearless tries furiously to open the doors now, only for some metal sheets to block the door. Fearless: “Eric! Open the doors now!” Magneto steps forward as Fearless tries prying the metal themselves. Magneto: “You are going to hurt yourself like that.” Fearless continues to trying to pry the metal with their bare hands. Magneto: “You have to understand that when I left you—” Fearless: “UNDERSTAND WHAT!? That I wasn’t the perfect baby you wanted! That I didn’t fit in your ideal world?! Save me the speech Eric I know! I’VE KNOWN THAT SINCE THE DAY I FOUND OUT WHO EXACTLY MY FATHER WAS!” Tears were streaming down their face, but they stood tall with their fist clenched. A heavy silence filled the room. Fearless: “If you have any ounce of any respect or basic decency… let me go.” Magneto wordlessly let the metal sheets fall to the ground. Fearless wastes no time in bursting out of the room. Magneto sighs sadly from inside the room. Meanwhile in the room next door. Logan and Morph were trying to watch a movie when they overheard the conversation through the wall. Logan and Morph: “…” Morph: “…That was unexpected.” Logan: “…You owe me a 12 pack and 20 buck’s bub.” Morph: “Oh C’mon!”

And apparently those two weren’t the only ones who overheard.

Jean had seen a distraught Fearless running outside and decided to gently look inside their mind to see what could have possibly upset them.

…

It did not take long there after for the rest of the X men to find out about the new family drama.

There was a lot of talk between the team about Fearless and Magneto, but they never guessed something like this.

So many questions yet to be answered!

The drama!

The Angst!

Some members are kind of glad a plot twist happened in their new telenovela, but at the same time are sympathetic to the whole ‘messed up family bloodlines thing’.

Fearless was walking around having calmed down. They spot Magneto exiting the room and walking to their direction. This was at the same time Kurt and Rouge just so happen to be walking by. The pair walked a bit faster to get to Fearless’s side. Kurt: “Fearlezz!” Fearless jumped at the sudden noise but calmed down seeing the blue mutant. Fearless: “Primus Kurt, don’t scare me like that.” Kurt: “Zorry!” Rouge gently placed a hand on their back, guiding them to another direction. Rouge: “There’s a cool thing the boys wanted ta show ya.” Fearless: “Now? I mean sure! Cool, cool, cool.”

The real question now about the bots.

Did THEY know about this?

Only one way to find out!

Morph is sitting by Whirl in his holoform. Morph: “Has Fearless every talked about their family, like before going to space?” Whirl: “Not really. They don’t talk too much on all the Earthy stuff.” He raises an eyebrow. Whirl: “Why you want some information on them?” Morph: “Well, its more like we’ve just gotten some new information on them.” Whirl: “Like what?” Morph: “… Logan won the bet.” Whirl: “Which ones Logan again? Wait is he the gruffy one with the claws that thinks I know some guy name Deadpool?” Morph: “That’s him.” Whirl: “Oh okay then. Wait what did he bet on again? Hang on a second.” Whirl pulls out a list of the bets and goes down before stopping at Logan’s bet. Whirl slowly looks at Morph. Morph: “Turns out Fearless’s dad is Magento.” Whirl: “… Excuse me but WHAT THE—” Magnus, in his holoform, comes in. Magnus: “Whirl! What have we talked about that language!” Whirl: “MAGNETO IS FEARLESS’S EARTH DAD!” Magnus: “WHAT!?” Morph: “I feel like I made a mistake…”

News about Magento being Fearless’s biological father spreads amongst the bots like wildfire.

They go to the X men about more details about this.

They would have asked Fearless… but these past few days the resident human looked ready to drop dead and sob on the spot.

The Lost Light crew is absolutely furious hearing the implication of Magneto Abandoning Fearless at a young age.

It is explained to the mutants about the significant values chosen family had amongst Cybertronian’s.

To abandon one’s sparkling/ youngling/ or mentee at such a tender age was simply unheard of.

The bots and X men hear some yelling from a far. It was Fearless yelling at Magneto to leave them alone. Megatron is the first to move. The Earth shakes as the Ex Warlord now looms over Fearless, casting a long shadow over Magneto. Fearless looks surprised to see the mech. Fearless: “Megatron? What are you doing here in bot mode? Did something happen with your holoform—EEP!” Megatron scoops Fearless up with one servo and holds them firmly to his chassis. He sported a harsh glare at the man on the ground. Megatron: “When my child says to leave them alone. You. Leave. Them. Alone.” Cue gasps from X men in the background. The twists keep getting better and better. Fearless is still very confused. Magneto: “Your child?” Rodimus: “That’s right! His kid. A member of our crew and family.” The other bots soon start lining behind or beside Megatron. Megatron: “Do not let me catch you disrespecting their space again.” With that the bots turn to go to their ship. Megatron looks down to see Fearless trying to stifle a sob. He gently rubs a digit up and down their back. They began to shake like a leaf and curled even smaller against his servo. Megatron: “There, there… I’ve got you… I’ve got you… Your safe now Fearless… Your safe…”

The bots and Fearless were going to need a day to process this before returning back to the big problems at hand.

Especially Fearless…

[zara-renata]

jumping up and down pls pls pls tell me your thoughts on caleb’s lore in the main story and what u think after going through his memoria and bond. as soon as they brought up the chip in the main story i wanted to throw my ipad bc i thought they were gonna do the whole “oh he’s not actually like that his mind is twisted from the chip” thing. but then he directly addressed that idea so i was like ok wow i guess not but everyone seems to think he is actually being controlled by the chip??? idk

heey thank you for this ask, i have a lot of thoughts as usual, thank you for asking <3 just a note: i wholly accept the gege caleb is your adopted brother aspect of his story like in the CN, KR, and JP versions, so i'm referring to him as mc's brother below. you can switch out brother for childhood friend; in either case, mc has a deeply rooted relationship with him.

First off, if I had a braincell I might have worried about the chip controlling his brain as a plot device, but I got the yandere vibes from him before he blew up, so that didn't even occur to me. But who are these 'everyone' of whom you speak? I don't think he's being controlled by the chip to any extent that matters in regards to his feelings and behavior towards mc. He's actively fighting against the chip's influence with his wildly cute and bizarre little black hole in his brain blocking its further invasion into his mind. the cliffhanger is, can the EVER scientists figure out a way to work around the block he's thrown up to actually exert control over him? The answer will be -> fuck if I know, I've never played an infold/PG game to later stages, but this is a dating sim, i'm assuming he'll be fine.

But I do think that all of his obsession about MC is wholly his own. His only wish in high school was MC's name -> MC herself. His need to protect her, to provide for her, all his own. he's been wearing a mask his whole life, he tells MC straight up that 'maybe this is how i've always been' because that's who he has always been. he's just finally "done playing these games" and is finally unapologetic about what he wants and is tired of fighting himself in getting it. I love him so much for it. "I know best, I'm the only one who can do this for you, and i'm going to do it whether you like it or not." and then if MC refuses to listen to him, if she pushes back, he looks like a kicked puppy and still keeps doing it. He's Like That without the chip. Is what he's doing okay? No man, this is unhealthy as fuck. if you want a healthy relationship based on mutual trust and support, you don't lie to and drug your sister-girlfriend. you don't urge her to be a hunter and then not trust that she can also take care of herself. you don't loom outside the cafe she's out at friends with and scare her friends into thinking you're some kind of abusive controlling asshole. I mean, unless you're caleb, and he doesn't care, he's finally owning his red flags. But I think it's fabulous to see his pikachu face when MC is like, i don't know you anymore, I might not want to see you for awhile, i'm pissed that you're still treating me like a defenseless little girl when i'm a trained killer now too. he deserves to look like that after all the shit he pulls. i like that infold just takes him right to the edge but doesn't push him over into 'okay this isn't fun anymore' territory with all of his core traits and motivations. he does let her go in the end, he lets her get in the airplane, escape the cage he's dying to put her in. with just the little card, begging her forgiveness, the forgiveness she promised him years ago.

But i digress. I really like the main storyline, but it's not without its flaws. So the things I liked: i'm shocked and happy that they made him full on yandere with the drugging mc and locking her in the house and then locking her in the infirmary and sidelining her at every opportunity in order to protect her. Those parts were great. I think the main story line was a wonderful showcase of how him as a character. I love his tenderness, and his suffocating presence were really well done. I loved how unhinged he is when MC says she doesn't need him, and he knocks over the apples and is laughing in breathless disbelief. Unmasked caleb = hot and a little scary. but please note! even when he's really upset, he does not hurt her! he's a hell of a lot more gentle than sylus! just, you know, throwing that out there.

What I didn't like: I thought that the plot was kind of all over the place. and like they often do in games like these, they nerfed MC in order to emphasize caleb's personality and traits and strengths. the whole mia and kevi storyline was a tragedy, and MC made some stupid-ass choices in it for an elite hunter. Like, the parallels with CalebMC were really clumsy, it felt a bit exploitative because they were such little kids, and for me its only value was highlighting how little Caleb cares about collateral damage in his quest to protect MC. He does not give a fuck if a little girl just like MC dies, as long as MC herself lives. That's some stone-cold villain shit, and I like it. They gave me my green flag with Sylus, I'm happy to have someone with such chilling aspects to his character as a nice balance. ALSO with the main storyline: Look, I love the other LIs. But Zayne, you're green grass, you're so lovely, but i am here for my toxic brother-boyfriend, why are you showing up and making me love how gentle and tender you are, genuinely are, unlike the fucked up walking disaster of a man i'm absolutely swooning over, who is gentle and tender in the way a child is when accidentally suffocating carefully-caught butterfly under a glass bell. Go on zayne, back to akso, I want more of the insecure border collie/german shepard crossbreed puppy masquerading as a colonel.

So because I am mainly interested in this game for the characters and their relationships to MC, I don't really mind that my low expectations for the the actual plot of the game tend to be proven correct and leave so much to be desired. but, If the plot was perfect I wouldn't feel the need to write fic to fix it, so I'm not too upset.

Another thing I hated, but I knew i'd hate: their reunion was so tepid. MC's joy in seeing him again, the relief that he's actually alive, her rage, her grief, everything he put her through in the past year -> like with sylus, glossed over, not addressed to the full extent necessary for a fun story or for emotional catharsis. i thought it was hilarious that mc is like, oh my brother is now a space nazi, and she is immediately ride-or-die, 'i don't even care that you're doing such awful shit, i've got your back no matter what,' even though he put her through so much and reveals himself through the whole main story to be Not The Brother She Knew. Who is this stranger? Apparently MC doesn't care, he wears caleb's face, so she's going to trust him. incredible. stupid. hilarious. but, oh well, that's what fic is for, to fix this nonsense. sidenote: Sylus didn't get this level of benefit of the doubt! MC made him suffer for SO long, suspecting him, not trusting anything he did! justice for sylus! and he had done way less horrible shit than MC watches caleb do!

As for the memoria and the bond: i love that he's been obsessed and nuts about her since high school, long before he left for the DAA. I love that the 4 star cards are all set in the past, but slowly show their growing romantic feelings for each other in high school, and don't just focus exclusively on cute childhood nostalgia. i love that they show how loving caleb is, when he's not wearing his space nazi uniform. because yes he's controlling, possessive, ruthless in a way that not even sylus is, but he really does love mc. he really does want whats best for her, and i think one of his character developments in the game will be learning to let her walk next to him instead of always sidelining her and making her feel less-than as a result. i love that she and caleb fight, and get in spats, and then make up, and he shows all of his emotions on his face. I love that in his memories he tells her that she's beautiful, that he thinks she's amazing. he's so open with his affection for her, and i love that so much, it's heart-fluttering.

Also some more thoughts about Caleb and Sylus I was sharing with @minniestarmj today: i love that caleb and sylus are two sides of the same coin. they're both caretakers, they both are obsessive about mc, they both track her and stalk her, and want what's best for her and to be the ones to give it, but Sylus never considered himself human but slowly finds his humanity in mc, and caleb, if he ever had humanity, slowly loses it because of mc.

they're both brain-empty, only-mc levels of motivation. sylus, though not being human, cares about weaker creatures. caleb only cares about mc, despite being human.

sylus is assured, stable, deeply devoted, MC is his other half, and just as strong and capable as he is. caleb is deeply insecure, unstable, has a trouble keeping a lid on his need for control of and protection of mc. sylus fully respects mc, trusts she can do anything, and is just waiting to step in to support when/if necessary. caleb is fear motivated-i think he does respect, admires, worships mc, but is too afraid of anything happening to her and leaving him alone to give her the freedom she craves/needs.

I love that sylus is the king of control, and can give it up so easily to MC, whereas Caleb is so desperate for control, and is always on the verge of losing it around MC. that's a nice fucking contrast to play with in their respective romances.

All in all, with both Sylus and Caleb, I get my healthy, sweetest beyond measure dragon boy and i get my unhinged yandere cyborg boy, and i love them both very much. i'm happy with the caleb as a character, and all the content they've given us so far. it's a mess, just like him.

So! despite all my bitching i love it and I'm having a great time! Thanks for the ask and making it this far in this rambling diatribe!!

[nico-the-overlord]

“No usb connection just use wifi! 😁” stop making me do a bunch of bullshit steps to just use a printer

[cementcornfield]

Did you see the clip of Joe yesterday?

Is it a clip now? Oh lord....was it funny at least?

It was the first time he ever used the F word in a conference.

He cursed? Y'all lying...I be trying to get him to curse, he don't curse when I'm talking to him...

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

I need a completely rewritten teen wolf series with Derek Hale as the main character. I think it would heal me.

[capricioussun]

ohhh glitchfell???

Glitchfell!!! It's funny you mention that specifically, because originally it had just been to separate Dos specifically, but I've actually been developing it on its own on the back burner...

Dos is still sort of the star of the show, since, well, he’s the reason it's glitchfell. Dos is [REDACTED]. However, his creator made a fatal flaw when trying to fix a previous mistake and it completely fucked Dos' code. At first, it was just minor glitching and stat instability. But as he got older, and the attempts to fix the mistake only continued making it worse (sort of), by the time he was a young teen, the glitching was causing problems in the Main Code, so when a particularly bad episode hit, he unintentionally collapsed the timeline and threw himself to a "neighboring" au.

...or so he thought (and how I'd initially written it lol).

But I've been working with, at least an alternate "timeline", where the au didn't actually collapse when Dos was thrown. Rather, it became corrupted. It wasn't too bad at first, more like Glitchedswap, where there were new tics here and there, but things could continue on as normal.

Unfortunately though, a tree cannot grow from a severely damaged trunk. At least not well. The damage was done, and as time went on, the corruptions only continuously worsened. There's a good likelihood it would have collapsed on its own by the time Dos met Void, there's just no way an au like that could sustain itself after a point, but it's incredibly interesting to think about how far it could've fallen before that point, and if it's possible anyone from it could've been saved before then...

Or if anyone would've put them out of their misery before it got so bad.

[astrxealis]

making myself suffer looking thru ffxiv stuff on tumblr when i could be playing ffxiv rn but i eternally love and miss ffxiv

[bylertruther]

the brainrot is so bad that i'm sitting here trying to watch the godfather just thinking to myself "damn..... how can i make a byIer au outta dis... 🤔📝"

[kalashtars]

.

[bibleofficial]

idk what my father thought the take-away would be by taking my brother & i downtown to look at homeless people every holiday and birthday growing up was. like all it’s turned into was ‘communism = good’ & 🤝 like 😭😭