#there shall be a tag system here

[photocheer]

Intro

I,@emily-mooon, am back at it again with another sideblog!

After making one for another rarepair I love, I thought I’d do the same with photocheer!

This will mostly just be a blog for reblogging any photocheer stuff I find. It’ll be like an archive for this pairing so none of the posts get lost in this hellsite’s terrible search system

There might also be original posts here, but I have a feeling all my stuff for photocheer will be posted on my main, which I’ll then immediately reblog here

At some point in the future, it might be nice trying to host a ship week or weekend for them if there’s a enough people interested. If not, then that’s okay! I’ll do my best to reblog any ST or fandom wide rarepair events that are happening so if any of you are interested in writing a fic or drawing fan art for them for an event, there’s one you can go to!

Same important rules as on my main. I don’t condone any bigoted behaviour! All of my blogs are safe spaces. Always try to be kind to people no matter who they are <3

Extras

Here’s the Spotify playlist I made for them. Feel free to suggest any songs for it if you have any!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Whoever’s reading this, I hope you are doing well and if not, here’s a free hug!-> 🫂

[spark-river]

Simeon: Solomon, how much did you drink last night?

Solomon: I mistook Diavolo for Lucifer.

Simeon: ...At least you didn't sleep under a bridge?

Solomon: About that-

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[eastprelude]

hi friends its cam from twitter

[guiltygearpl]

Bartek should be a wheelchair user and some kind of baby pseudopolitician activist constantly filing reports to his town's ratusz about unusable sidewalks/ramps/elevators/buildings. shit's fucked, speaking from experience

meanwhile Walery is running a Putka bakery to get money for Robert's rehabilitation (goddamned NFZ doesn't cover this shit). like, specifically one of those vintage bad boys:

a little spoiler for you: in the bartek lore i have written so far he was born abled but later after a certain incident he goes into a coma and is unable to walk when he wakes up, this is fucking great im definitely including this. after that point, he totally would. youre so fucking right.

as for walery, i can definitely also see that - im gonna be honest i didnt know what a putka was because we dont have these here but it seems they are a warszawian thing which checks out. we will think about it. it seems like its the average polish moderate business store thing which i can definitely imagine how it looks like. alsoi would like to note kamil kiszka would never help out his brother financially he hates his ass if walery doesnt pay for rehabilitation robert is FUCKED

-🛏️

[mirrortouchedsea]

Glad to see people already finding this blog from my main

[myzontoxin]

hip hip hurray new blog! 3rd times the charm i guess!

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

ﻣَﻠَﻜِﻲّ.

synopsis: arab royalty a/u, you’ve been betrothed to a prince from a kingdoms just miles away, but you two don’t seem to get along so well…at first

tags: alhaitham x reader, angsty in the start, vulgar, explicit, cunnalingus, fingering, penetration

wrd cnt: 1.3k+

a/n: click title for a song that i love, ( title translates to “royal”)

As you stepped into the grand, ornate foyer of Alhaitham's estate, your anxiety spiked. You had never felt so out of place in your life. The arranged marriage, a convenience for both your families, had been a shock to your system. Leaving behind your country, family, and friends had been a hard pill to swallow. You knew Alhaitham for years, your kingdom and his had a strong alliance, hence your betrothal making the utmost sense. Well, that is if anyone had bothered to tell you about it til a few days prior to the ceremony.

You throw your things to the floor, watching him stand so casually, his life remaining still while yours was pitted.

“What am I doing here. Why can’t I just stay back? No one in the Kingdom will have to know.”

Alhaitham, standing by the fireplace, raised an eyebrow. "You're here because our families deemed it necessary, Princess. We both know the arrangements.”

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that. You don't get to address me like we're old friends."

He smiles, his dark eyes glinting. "Well we were once, no? We're married now, whether we like it or not. You might as well get used to it."

The tension between you two was palpable, you feel the weight of your unresolved emotions. You had never intended to marry anyone in a matter of politics, especially not prince Alhaitham, who seemed to embody the very essence of arrogance.

"You have no idea what I've sacrificed for this farce, do you?" you spat, your anger boiling over. "I left behind everything that mattered to me. And for what? To marry some pompous prince who thinks he's above me?"

Alhaitham's expression darkened, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. "You think I wanted this? I'm a prince- a gentleman, not some lovesick fool. I have duties, responsibilities for one day I shall be King. This marriage was as much a convenience for me as it was for you."

“For me? What the hell are you talking about- the only convenience I have now is a new carriage that’ll only take me to ridiculous dinners and stuffy tea parties!” You spout about in anger, slowly approaching him with your eyes casting a ferocity that wasn’t just the reflection of the flames from the fireplace.

“I was sold to you like a brood mare- what convenience do I have your majesty?!”

The air was heavy with animosity, the space between you cracked with tension. Your heart raced as Alhaitham took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours.

“Then leave. Leave now and you’ll never have to attend a ridiculous dinner, any stuffy tea parties, or ever have to look at this pompous prince again. I give you my blessing dear.”

Everything inside you told you to turn around and drag your feet out his castle, to hear your wedding dress trailing behind you as you forbade yourself to look back. Everything inside you except the rapturing feeling that dwelled inside your stomach, urging you to soak your heart in it: let it coat every atom of your body.

As his words came out, you couldn’t help but feel magnetized to him. His tone was calm, while his words harsh; beckoning you to swallow them like a pill.

“Well? Why aren’t you running princess?” He says, his finger grazing your cheek, watching you breathe heavier and close your eyes at his touch, brows wincing as his breathe hits your face.

“Shut up.” You say, or rather whisper, his lips feeling so close to yours you might faint.

Suddenly, he grasped your face, pulling you into a fierce kiss. The anger and frustration melted away, replaced by a burning desire you couldn't deny. His lips devoured your, tongues clashing in a frenzied dance.

You could felt your senses reel as Alhaitham's hands roamed your body, stripping away your lavish dress and undergarments with an efficiency that left your breathless.

You were naked, exposed, and yet you felt no shame for he had rid himself of garments as well under your touch. The anger and resentment had given way to a primal attraction that neither of you could ignore.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, and spun your around. Your hands slapped against the warm cloth stitched onto

the burgundy couch that stationed itself before the fireplace; Alhaitham's fingers delving between your thighs, his touch sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

He kissed the nape of your neck, swinging your braided hair to the your side to give him more space to leave his lovely marks upon your flesh.

Desire crackled through the air louder than the flames behind you, bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time. Alhaitham's hands explored every inch of you, his fingers teasing your sensitive spots, handling you and figuring out exactly what you liked as if it was as easy as breathing. You both surrendered to passion.

As his lips traveled down your spine, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. You could feel the heat building between your thighs as his hands reached around touch you more. His fingers teased your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. You turned to face him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath your touch. He pushed you down onto the couch, his mouth moving lower and lower until he reached the apex of your thighs.

Slowly he’d kiss you closer and closer to where you really needed it.

“Look how desperate you look princess, this is far from running you know.” He says with pride.

Before you can even respond with an insult or deflecting, his tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned his name as he continued to lick and suck, his fingers slipping inside you to add to your ecstasy. You suddenly didn’t take his comment to offense.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you bucked your hips against his face, desperate for more.

He moved up to kiss you, making you taste your own arousal.

“Such a naughty thing you are…where’s all that anger? It was sorta cute”.

You could feel the ache of desire burning within you, anger now turning into wanting nothing more than to have him inside you.

"Fuck me," you whispered, the words barely audible.

Alhaitham's response was a low, menacing chuckle. "Oh, I will."

He slipped his cock up and down your folds, his tip prodding your glistening hole, still soaked with his spit. Slowly he’d enter you, watching your face contort as let out a small gasp as you felt him fill the empty space in your walls.

“Just relax okay? I’ll take care of you.” He assured.

He thrusted into you, slowly getting you used to his cock pounding against your pussy with a ferocity that left you gasping so much. The sounds of your lovemaking echoed through the silent rooms, a primal symphony that drowned out the doubts and fears. He hovered over you, eyes locked into yours and back at the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight hole, milking him for all it’s worth.

It wasn’t long before you came together, bodies entwined, feeling a spark of connection you couldn't explain.

It was as if, in this moment, your union was more than just a convenient arrangement. It was a union of flesh and blood, of sweat and desire.

As you both collapsed onto the couch, spent and exhausted, you gazed up at Alhaitham's face, his eyes gleaming with a newfound intensity.

"Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all," you said; voice husky.

Alhaitham's smile was wicked, his teeth glinting in the fading light. "I told you, Princess. We'll make this work."the story

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: that's it folks. welcome to the end. peace out (my hand is hurting like a bitch) NOT EDITED NOT BETA READ EXCUSE THE MISTAKES

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

max: ANSWER ME

max: [NAME] I SWEAR TO GOD

max: I’LL FLY TO TEXAS RIGHT NOW I SWEAR

max: THIS IS ALL FUN AND GAMES FOR YOU ISNT IT

max: YOU FUCK ME AND THEN YOU LEAVE

max: YOU'RE ALL FUCKING THE SAME ALWAYS LEAVING ME

max: FUCK YOU [NAME]

max: TALK TO ME YOU COWARD

max: EXPLAIN YOURSELF

max: IM GOING INSANE HERE

Max has visited your apartment a total of two times since he’s given you the keys. The first time—Max remembers it was in early January 2020. You held a housewarming party disguised as a little lunch get-together as a thank-you for his gift. Daniel and him as well as two of your former roommates, Max recognizes them as Julia and Kendall from the PR team, are the only ones invited. You cooked pasta. Your mother’s recipe, you claimed. It easily became one of Max’s favorite dishes in the world and he requests you to cook it from time to time.

The second time, Max remembers going there again after the Monaco Grand Prix 2021. It’s been only a week after your breakup with Leo and four races before the incident with the Hamilton fan in Silverstone. The team holds a dinner to celebrate Max taking P1 and usually, you’re present in these types of things—the after parties and team dinners and all forms of team celebrations in general because you like celebrations but you're nowhere to be found.

Max finishes dinner quickly and excuses himself to Horner. He grabs a beer and drives himself to your apartment, because he knows you’re definitely not staying in the hotel with the team.

When you’re sad, you tend to hide away. It's an annoying habit. You make it your career to dig your nose into everyone’s problem—Max’s most especially—and provide everyone with the help you can offer. It's your love language, Max thinks, to be insanely helpful to everyone but the moment that the places switch and you’re the one who needs help, you run away because you refuse to bother everyone else with your problems despite the amount of people who are willing to return the favor you gave them in the past. It is very hypocritical of you.

He knocks on your door. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him. It's an established pattern, a system that works for both of you. You shout for him to wait and Max does so, observing the details of the woodwork in front of him as he waits patiently for you. You have a very nice door.

You open the door. Max’s brows raised slightly at the sight of you. You're still in your Red Bull polo shirt but instead of the pencil skirt you were wearing during the race, you wore short shorts instead. Black, fitted, and they stop a little above your mid-thighs. You're barefoot, too. No YSL heels in sight.

Max turns into a lovely shade of pink. You don't notice it.

You have long legs despite being 5’5” only, which gives off the illusion that you’re very tall when you're actually not. Your body ratio consists of seventy-five percent legs and twenty-five percent upper body. You have lean legs. It's full of childhood scars—thin white lines that are barely noticeable because of how old they are. You have well-built calves and dainty ankles, which look weird but also look right, and your feet are veiny, jagged lines of green blue on skin. Max thinks it's because you wear heels every day.

“Somethin’ wrong, man?” your voice sounds nasal, hoarse, and deep at the same time. Your eyes and nose are red and Max knows full well that you’ve been crying over Leo again and yet you carry yourself as if you're fine, standing in front of him with your shoulders straightened and your tone professional.

Max never liked the bitterness that washes over him whenever he sees you with Leo. But at that moment, he’ll rather endure the bitterness that chokes him until he thinks he’s about to pass out if that makes you alright, if that makes you stop crying.

“I have beer.”

It's a lame thing to say. He should have said something better. He should have asked if you’re alright, should have asked why you were crying, should have asked if there's anything you need him to do just so you’ll feel better. But his mind blanks and he just thrusted the beer forward.

You smile, shaking your head. You take the beer from his hands gratefully, “I have pasta. Wanna go in?”

It's a fair trade. You love beer. He loves your pasta. And so, he entered your apartment.

He faces your door for the third time in 2023. A million thoughts run around his brain per second as his eyes train on the wood patterns of your front door. Dread pools in his stomach as he holds the door knob. He only holds it, not twisting it and pushing it open just yet.

Max is stalling. He knows that. He shouldn't be stalling. He knows that, too.

He dreads what's waiting for him on the other side of the door. He can hear your voice in the back of his skull, saying, “Pussy. You risk your life and drive a rocket ship for a livin’ and you’re afraid of openin’ a damn door?”

Max takes a deep breath and opens the door. Silence and emptiness greets him.

Your apartment has always been bare. You refuse to buy carpets, curtains, houseplants, decorative furnishings or anything that can make your loft apartment seem like someone actually lives there.

(“It's expensive here,” you said.

“I’ll pay,” Max offered.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll just bring something from home.”

You never did.)

Max’s feet lead him to your living room. Dust accumulates on top of your glass coffee table and couch. Max remembers them coming along when he bought the apartment. You never got them changed.

His brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the familiar looking box that sits atop the coffee table. He strides towards it, head tilting to read the little pink sticky note attached to it. It reads: Sorry Max, I can't steal more from Kelly.

Max’s entire world crumbles down. He opens the shoe box and sees the shoe, arranged carefully in place.

He hurriedly reaches for the folder next to it and reads the writings inside.

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024.

Max keeps re-reading the last two sentences just to make sure he’s reading it correctly.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager.

I resigned, Max.

resigned.

Max hurls the shoe box and it zooms in the air and hits the wall. He fists his hair and pulls. A scream erupts in his throat. The neighbors are going to file a noise complaint but Max cannot bring himself to care. He’s the one whose heart is breaking here.

He grabs the folder. Max feels something fall on his foot. He looks down.

A beaded bracelet. Navy blue and red—the color of Red Bull. There are three white beads in the bracelet and on those three white beads are the letters M and V—his initials—and the number 1—his current number.

Max drops on his knees. He picks up the little thing with trembling hands. He brings the bracelet to his chest and Max falls apart. This time, you’re not here to hold him together.

max: hey im planning to visit the US

max: do you think you can show me around?

Logan Sargeant is a good driver. That's a given. It's his profession. But the way he drives; it's making Max sleepy.

“So….” Logan begins awkwardly. “I’m assuming you're visiting Texas because of [Name].”

Max nods, “Yeah.”

“You're not mad at her, are you?” Logan asks. “For resigning?”

“She told you?”

So you told the American boy but not him? Max cannot help but be offended now.

“Well, I kinda assumed? Liam mentioned it to the other day, who heard the news from his cousin.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lawson?”

“Yes, Lawson.”

Max remembers the kid all too well. Liam Lawson has overtaken him in Singapore after all. It's embarrassing. Watch out, Max, you teased him. Liam’s out to get you.

“Liam probably heard it from Leo.”

“Leo?”

Logan is mentioning too many names. Well, it’s just two but two is still many for his brain to comprehend right now.

“Yeah, Leo and Liam are cousins.”

Max pauses.

“Leo and [Name] still talk so I guess [Name] told Leo, who must have mentioned it to Liam, who then mentioned it in the groupchat with me and Osc—are you okay?”

Max tries his hardest not to scream.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, voice tight. “I’m fine. How far are we from Austin?”

They drive past a sign that says “Welcome to Austin.”

“Well, it looks like we’ve just arrived.”

Max is once again offended that Logan knows where you live while he doesn't. Vista Del Pueblo, Logan tells him the name of the place as they hop off the car. It's funny how close you lived from the Circuit of the Americas. No wonder you always requested to be home after the Austin GP before flying off to the next city.

The two-storey yellow and red brick house is empty. Despite that, it looks like a perfect picture of a happy childhood home. The backyard and the patio is wide. Beside the driveway stands an olden tree. Below the tree is a reclining chair that looks like it has gone through a dust storm and a thousand rains.

“It’s empty,” Max announces. Logan nods.

“Yeah.”

Logan ends up approaching an old woman in the neighboring house who was sweeping dust off her porch and asks her if she knows the [Last Name] family’s whereabouts.

“They haven't returned home since Christmas,” she replies. “Everyone in the neighborhood tried contacting them but no one got through. Ever since Julio died… It's like the entire family followed after him.”

Max and Logan stiffen, shocked at the news that's just been revealed.

Julio died….?

Max needs to find you. Urgently. He needs to see if you're okay.

The sun retires for the night and Max decides that it's time for Logan and him to retire as well. Logan drives them to a hotel and Max pays for two rooms despite Logan insisting that he can pay for his own. They grab dinner at the hotel restaurant, in a private area that Max paid for.

“You’re not angry at her, aren't you?” Logan asks for the second time that day. His plate is half empty. Meanwhile, Max’s plate is barely touched. His appetite significantly decreased. He keeps thinking about you, worried about how you're coping with Julio’s death. You are never the best person when it comes to dealing with pain. Physical pain, you can handle. You’re barely fazed when you burn your hand in the oven, when you hit your hip at the corner of the table, when you accidentally get scratches and you don't even notice it until someone points out the blood that terrifyingly drips down your arm. Max can still remember how you dealt with your breakup with Leo. All those nights crying, the unhealthy fixation in work so you won't have any space feeling human emotions, the moments where you disconnect with reality that Max has to pull you out of many times. The death of a father is a million times worse than a breakup. Max imagines a thousand scenarios in his mind. He needs to be with you right now. He needs to make sure you're alright.

“I hope you're not. You obviously are but I still hope you're not,” Logan continues. “She was always going to leave, you know? She told me in January. She told me that she needs to—

Max accidentally throws the glass of water he was holding. It falls onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoes throughout the room. Logan stares at Max with his eyes wide. A cleaning crew comes in a hurry and cleans it up. Max doesn't apologize, he only says, “send me the bill later” and sends the crew out. He turns to Logan.

“She needs to what?”

“You're angry.”

You reminded me, Max said in his mind.

“And?” Max raises his brow. “She needs to what?”

Logan lets out a shaky breath, “She needs to become an engineer or else she’ll never forgive herself.”

Manager. Engineer. What's so damn special about that engineering position anyway? Why are you so hell bent on leaving Max? Red Bull pays you more than an engineer. Hell, Max is even willing to raise your salary to the same amount as half of his annual salary in Red Bull if it keeps you from leaving him. Max is willing to pay for your student loans and refund everything you paid to USC during your college years.

Max pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. He’s feeling too many emotions all at once.

“I think it's best if you talk to Leo?” Logan suggests. Max appreciates that he’s trying to be helpful but mentioning Leo brings nothing but more anger in him. Fucking Leo. Why does he know where you are? He’s your fucking ex for god’s sake. Why are you even still talking to your ex? “He’s close with [Name]. I think he can help you.”

Max contemplates.

He doesn't want to ask fucking Leo.

And he’s not that desperate to seek help from him.

Logan writes his number on a table napkin. Max pockets it.

After dinner, Max sits inside his hotel room. He dials the number Logan gave him because if he’ll tell you where you are, he can swallow his pride for a day. It takes three redials and two rings before Leo answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Leo Stark?”

“Yes, this is he. May I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Max Verstappen.”

Silence.

“Hello, are you still there?”

Max hears a loud crash followed by a series and a whole lot of ruffling, “Sorry about that. Do you mind repeating that?”

“Max Verstappen.”

“Ah, so I’m not hearing things. I thought I was hearing things. Sorry. Do you wish to talk to James Vowles? I can transfer the call to him.”

“No,” Max says. “I want to talk to you. It's about [Name].”

“Oh.” A pause. “You're going to ask me where she is, aren't you?”

“You're smart.”

“Well, mate, too bad. I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t,” he echoes. “I mean I can but I won’t.”

“So you know where she is.” It's not a question. Something bitter rears its ugly head in his stomach. His bitterness and anger now dwarf his worry for you in size. Fuck Logan for reminding him that you always wanted to leave. Fuck Leo for knowing where you are.

“I’m going to ask again and you better give me the answer I want. Where is she?”

“The answer you want?” Leo clicks his tongue. “It’s always what you want. Have you considered what she wants? Does [Name] even want you to find her?”

“You don't know what you're talking about—”

“I do,” Leo interrupts and the way he sounds so sure of himself aggravates Max. “I do, mate. Believe it or not.”

“I see what's happening here,” Max sneers. “I’ve heard you and [Name] broke up because she was prioritizing me over you. Is this it? Are you doing this out of petty jealousy?”

Leo sighs, “You’re making this about you again.”

Max opens his mouth to retort but Leo cuts him off, “Let me get this straight with you, mate. When we were still dating, not once have I been jealous of you. I understood that she works for you and that she has to put you first in certain situations. After all, you’re her job. I’m just the home she returns to after work.”

Max’s jaw clenches. Leo was her home. It was the truth no matter how much Max hated it. Leo does not stop there.

“I have no issue with her focusing on you. The only problem I have with it is her tendency to focus more on you than herself. If you come to her at a very vulnerable time, especially now, there’s a chance that she’s going to focus on you again. She deals with grief in a very unhealthy way and I don't want her to do that. Not when she needs to properly grieve for her father.”

Leo sighs again.

“So please, mate, just this once. Think about what she needs right now and it’s not you.”

You don't need Max.

But Max needs you.

That is one of the most painful truths he’s ever been given.

“She’ll come back. She always does. It may take months. Years, even. Just… Let her grieve and let her pick herself up. There are people who don't want help because they need to do it themselves or else it won't feel fulfilling. [Name] is no different. Also, I’ll be honest with you, mate. I don't want you coming to her before she achieves her dreams. You’re so used to [Name] giving you everything you want that you forgot that she, too, is someone who needs and wants and dreams. She just wanted to be an engineer.”

“And how is this my fault?”

“You knew what she wanted. You agreed to help her achieve it. You didn't allow her to move to Renault. You told her that you’ll ask your team principal after you win and you did win but you didn't keep your end of the bargain.”

“I—”

“Who are you to control her dreams? If you love her, you would have asked Horner, at least. She knows you never asked Horner. Maybe she would have never resigned if you tried to talk to Horner, but you let your selfishness win.”

Max feels all breath punched out of his lungs.

“You had the power to ask your team principal yet you didn't and she has to watch you achieve your dreams while she can't. Unfair, don’t you think?”

A pause.

“Just start considering what she feels, mate. That's all.”

“I am considering her. Always.” This is the closest to a love declaration he can admit out loud. The purest form of love is consideration, they say. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel, pays attention to detail, holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you, keeps promises so you won’t be disappointed, that's when you know they love you.

“Are you really?”

Is he really?

“Take care of her for me, Verstappen. Even from afar. You can do that.”

The call ends.

Max stares blankly at the wall, still holding his phone against his ear. Then, he hurls it across the room. He aggressively drags his hand through his face.

Max flies back to Belgium after Austin to spend the rest of his off-season with his mother and sister. He apologizes to Logan for his behavior. Logan is a kind man, he forgives easily. He drives Max to the airport.

The next day, an article is posted, titled—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN.

On New Year's Eve, Kelly messages Max. He can't say that he’s surprised. In truth, he’s been expecting her to message him, whether it's to beg to take her back or to curse him out or to tell him something about Penelope or it's to inform him that she's going to pick up her things in Max’s penthouse in Monaco.

kelly: i sent someone to pick up our things in your place

max: okay

kelly: also

kelly: *sent a photo*

kelly: she apologized for something that's not her fault

kelly: you have a good one

The photo is a screenshot of Kelly’s conversation with you, dated December 30. That was yesterday.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Max looks up to see his mother’s worried face.

“Oh, uh,” he closes his phone and almost drops it. Fucking clumsy fingers, fucking messages, fucking pain. “Nothing, Mum.”

His mother does not look convinced.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? No need to hide it. You may be a world champion now but you’ll always be my baby,” she says. “What does [Name] always say? Even champions are allowed to cry.”

At the mention of you, Max looks away.

“Tell me. Is it Kelly?”

The last time Max cried in his mother’s arms was when he was eleven. Jos always said boys should never cry. That boys who cry are weak. And weak people do not become champions. Max wanted to be a champion so he never allowed himself to be weak. Weakness only becomes a weakness if it is known so he learned to bottle it up over the years and all the bottled grief became anger. Hence, the birth of his serious anger issues.

He’s twenty-seven now with three WDC titles under his belt. He’s outgrown both of his parents in terms of physical size and in career accomplishments but when his mother’s arms wrapped around him, he allowed himself to become a little boy again. He allowed himself to be weak.

“She left me, Mum,” Max whispers, hugging her mother close. Sophie rubs his back in soothing circles.

“You’ll find someone, Max,” his mother assures.

“I don't want someone else,” he says. “I want [Name].”

“Oh.”

Sophie blinks.

“Max, you—”

“Please, don't make me say it, Mum,” Max pleads, squeezing his eyes shut. A lone tear drips down his cheek. “Don't make me say I’m in love with [Name].”

Max sends an email to Christian that he’s not going to take a manager in 2024. Christian tells him it's a bad idea, that he needs a manager because he’s becoming busy with his schedules and everyone wants a piece of time with the third-time world driver’s champion but Max cannot care less. If it’s not you, he’d rather have no one at all.

Max wants to learn how to get used without you on his side. He did a little reflecting over pre-season and realized how he had become so dependent on you. He learns the functions of a Google calendar and how to use a Notion page.

Max just knows 2024 is going to be a shitty year for him.

Bahrain, Max remembers, is your favorite track. He doesn't know why you like Bahrain. Bahrain is hot. Bahrain is not as exciting as other race tracks. Personally, he prefers Spa-Francorchamps.

He also remembers that you like watching the air show. You never said it outright but you always have this smile on your face while watching the jets painting the sky with colors so Max kind of figured.

Max snaps a picture of the jets in the sky. He opens his Instagram and searches for your name in his message list. When he presses his conversation with you, the first thing that greets him is his spam of angry messages. All delivered, all unread. The last message, Max remembers, was sent when he visited Austin with Logan to search for you.

max: SO YOU TOLD LEO BUT NOT ME? DO I EVEN MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU?

His finger hovers on the send button. He lets out a sigh and he pockets his phone instead.

Daniel approaches Max after Max wins Jeddah.

“Hey, have you been talking to [Name]?” he asks.

“Not lately,” answers Max. Not since she left me, Max thinks.

Daniel scratches his nape. “I think she's angry at me.”

“You’ve been talking?”

Now, Max is offended. So you talked to Leo, you talked to Kelly, you talked to Daniel, but you made no effort to talk to him? When was he going to get a message from you?

“Well, I kinda…” Daniel pulls out his phone. “I just checked up on her? And she replied like a week later. She sounds kinda angry? I don't know. Do you think she sounds angry?”

Daniel shows Max his last conversation with [Name].

daniel: hey!

daniel: heard from max what happened

daniel: we miss you! you should visit come by in bahrain! the opening is gonna be sick

you: can't sorry

daniel: aww how about jeddah

daniel: i’ll fly you out don't worry about traveling commercial

you: idk man

you: might be too much noise and distraction for you

you: good luck in jeddah tho

A very passive aggressive reply.

“Yeah, she is,” Max supplies.

Max wins Bahrain. Max wins Jeddah. Australia, on the other hand, is a funny story. First, the Williams team pulls an annoying move. Poor Logan. He had to give his car to his teammate and sit out of the race.

Max visits him after the news was officially announced. He finds the American racer in his driver room, sitting sadly on the bed with his head bent low, after asking a rookie Williams mechanic, who trembled at the sight of him.

It's a pitiful looking room. Max has a villa for a driver room. Logan doesn't even have a closet for his overalls, just a rack held together by hopes and dreams. The bed is so tiny and narrow that Max is sure he wouldn't even fit if he lies in there unless he assumes a tight fetal position.

“You’re here,” Logan stands from the bed, eyes wide in surprise. He hasn’t expected Max to visit him out of all the people in the grid. Not even his own teammate performed that courtesy. “Uh, I don't have anything. Here, have my seat. Do you want me to grab—”

“It's fine,” Max holds his palm up. “Sit back down, Logan.”

Logan slowly sits back down and moves to the side so Max can have a space to sit on. Max occupies Logan’s given space beside him. Their shoulders and elbows are touching.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Logan nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Max nods, but he doesn't believe him. Comfortable silence wraps the entire room. It lasted less than five minutes.

“You should break the car,” Max suggests seriously. “So no one can drive it, too.”

A soft laugh escaped Logan’s throat.

The door swings open and enters Leo, who freezes when he sees Max Verstappen sitting next to Logan. He looks at the two F1 drivers then back in his hand, where he was holding a large Stanley cup and two styro cups.

“Great, I only brought two cups,” he says, kicking the door behind him to close it. “Should have told me the world champion is coming. I would have brought the expensive wine.”

“What do you have there?”

“Beer,” Leo lifts the Stanley cup and gives it a small shake. “Transferred it to a Stanley cup so no one would notice.”

“James wouldn’t be happy,” says Logan, frowning.

“We’re not happy with him either,” Leo retorts, pouring the beer into the two cups. He hands one to Logan and another to Max.

“I suggested breaking his car,” Max inserts, accepting the cup. He still feels a bit weird to be hanging out with Leo like this. He’s angry still, but he’s not as angry as he was in Austin. Leo’s words, though Max would never admit it out loud, made sense. You left because of Max’s own selfishness. He was the one who had cut your wings and thought that his gesture was out of love when in fact, it was an action born out of his desperation and his fear of being left behind by you.

“Should I?” Leo humors his suggestion, shrugging his shoulders.

Logan sighs, shaking his head at the two. He can’t believe they're both older than him but still wield that petty immaturity.

“Please don't.”

Second, the RB20 has brake issues in Australia so Max ends up retiring in the middle of the race. Max hears everyone cheer at his retirement. That's when you know he’s good. When everyone wishes for his downfall. Everybody in Red Bull grows wary watching their prized driver stomp inside the garage, looking like he has a lot to say to the mechanics. His head is as hot as the burning car at the pit.

Max hears two people whispering amongst themselves:

“Mad Max is back.”

“Where's [Name] when you need her? He’s going to get blow up at us now.”

“[Name] really is a saintess because she’s the only one who can handle him when he’s angry.”

“I never appreciated her efforts before but I am now. I hope she never left.”

Max hopes she didn't, too. Out of all the people in Red Bull, he’s the one who wishes that she hasn't left the most. Now, he’s even angrier.

Max wins P1. If he doesn't, it's a DNF. The problem is the reliability of the car, not him. Never him.

He steps foot in Austin soil again on October 15th for the 19th race of the season, eager to win another P1 and increase his chance of snatching his fourth consecutive world driver’s championship title.

Fortunately, the RB20 doesn't fail him mid-race. The Dutch national anthem is heard all around the Circuit of the Americas and Max retires to the garage, too tired for any form of celebration. He wants to change out of his racing gear. He still has to fix his Google calendar and check out a few things in his Notion page. Who knew being your own manager can be so tiring?

Kendall comes by, a camera in hand. She snaps a quick picture, only one take because she knows Max hates taking pictures. Max believes you mentioned it to her before and has asked her to take the pictures quickly so he wouldn't get annoyed. You were always too thoughtful, always mindful of the little details. Perhaps, it was why he fell in the first place.

Max pivots on his heels to leave after he hears the camera click.

“Oh Max,” Kendall stops him. “[Name] came by earlier. She said congratulations.”

Max entire world stops spinning. Everything else became a mass of white noise.

“Where's she?” Max demands.

“She left already, said she’s got somewhere to be—”

Max sprints to his driver room, grabs his keys and ran all the way to the parking lot where his car was parked, not minding the screams and the questioning stares he received from the people he ran past them to his car. His mind only focuses on one thing—he has to get to you.

He drives down to the familiar road that he and Logan drove in last December 2023. He's racing against time and like all races he'd participated in, he hopes to win. He hopes that he’ll be able to see you. Max arrives at the red and yellow brick house in Vista Del Pueblo, jogging up until the front door and knocking. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him.

No one answers. Max jogs up to the window at the front and peeks inside. The house is still empty as it had been in December.

Max's shoulders sagged.

He wasn't fast enough.

[punctuation-completionist]

since today is punctuation day, i figured i'd talk with you about my favorite punctuation that is sadly not in unicode

(my apologies if these crop weird)

these six marks were invented by french writer hervé bazin in his essay plumons l'oiseau (or 'let's pluck the bird')

while the essay also had aim to switch the french language to a more phonetic writing system, it also gave us six new punctuation marks!

from left to right and top to bottom these are, the acclamation point, the authority mark, the conviction point, the doubt point, the irony mark, and the love point. so let's go over what these all were supposed to convey! (or at least what i expect they were supposed to)

the acclamation point was meant for praise, goodwill, and enthusiasm (ie "Well done [acclamation point]")

the authority mark was meant to be used in situations where the exclamation was serious and involved a degree of command or urgency (ie "Get in my office right now [authority mark]") i think this— along with the love point and irony mark— shows how a lot of these punctuation marks were a bit like early examples of tone tags, i'll get into it more later

the certitude point was used to show sureness in a fact. (ie "It's absolutely positively true [certitude point]") i think this might be the most useless of the bunch but whatever. i digress.

the doubt point is kind of the opposite of the certitude point, used when you aren't sure of something (ie "It should be done tomorrow [doubt point]") also it should be noted that the example used above is not the only way you'll see the doubt point, some also have it looking like this

the idea of irony marks has been widely suggested, for example the poet/art critic/song writer (i think, this guy's only wiki page is in french and i am guessing a bit on the word 'chansonnier') alcanter de brahm suggested an irony mark that resembled a backwards question mark (not to be confused with the percontation point which indicated a rhetorical question) and belgian inventor (among other things) marcellin jobard suggested a point that looked like an upwards arrow (this △ on top of this |, i can't paste it)

^ de brahm's mark

all that to say, bazin's mark was based off of the greek letter psi (Ψ) which some of you may recognize if you are familiar with the greek language or comics that shall not be named. it's used in situations of irony (ie saying "Wow, that sure was brilliant [irony mark]" if someone did something stupid)

and our last point is the love point, known for being so adorable, and indicating love or affection after a sentence (ie "Thanks a lot bud [love point]")

now we can obviously see that some of these are very similar to tone tags! the love point could be like a /pos, the irony mark is kinda like a /sarc, the authority mark could be like a /srs . i just thought it was interesting i guess. i don't have a point (heh) here exactly except that i guess people might actually need these punctuation marks ? so unicode? give me the love point or give me death

anyways so that's some fun niche history for y'all! hope you enjoyed

[snaitf]

I had to look it up because "Hound of the Baskervilles" being one of the tags gave me whiplash. Omg WHY is this so funny?? Hugo B, you okay man?

Why is this so fucking funny

[tragedy-of-commons]

no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

[writingwisterias]

Day 17: Threesome

DI! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader x Jill Valentine Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Threesome - M,F,F , Oral, Face riding, Cowgirl, Unprotected sex Masterlist

Leon had no fucking clue how he ended up in this situation. Not that he was complaining though. He was lying on the bed, his raging hard-on twitching and throbbing at the sight before him. His beautiful girlfriend, her naked form shining in the dim light of the bedroom like he was some goddess. Your whines filled the room, each one causing blood to rush to his cock. He desperately wanted to relieve some of the pressure, wanting to cave and lubricate his cock with the large amount of precum that he had spilt already but Jill told him he wasn’t allowed to touch it. Yes, Jill Valentine - he had only met the woman recently after their mission in Alcatraz.

The group invited him out for drinks, which you tagged with him for support or to make sure he didn’t exceed his limit. However, you had hit it off with his new acquaintance. Spending the evening laughing and joking, doing shots. Jealous ran through his system just like it did now as he watched Jill switch between your breasts. 

He watched as the woman's fingers worked your pussy, circling the clit or spreading your arousal all over. When Jill wasn’t in the way he could vaguely see it spread over your thighs. His fingers itched to touch you, his mouth watered at the thought of your sweet taste. Leon was a patient man however, he would wait. 

Jill let go of your breast with a pop, a line of saliva following her movements. She looked over her shoulder at Leon. He grumbled at her chuckle, watching how pathetic he looked like that. “Jealous?” Jill teased. His eyes narrowed glaring at the woman but it disappeared as fast as it formed. Her fingers lightly followed the veins on his cock, cupping his balls with the heel of her palm. You smiled at his whimper, watching as he followed her movements. “Come here darling” Jill instructed pointing to you. Leon smiled as he saw you approach, his eyes fluttering shut when he felt your fingers touch his thighs. “I think Leon is jealous, shall we give him some love?” 

She brought your hand to his cock it instantly twitched to your touch. Leon grumbled as Jill set a pace, guiding your hand to the movement that she wanted. Your thumb swiped across the slit in his tip, smiling at the cloudy liquid that decorated the nail varnish you wore. Jill moved towards his head, her breasts bouncing as she moved catching Leon’s attention. With a nod from Jill, you swung your leg to the overside of him, now hovering over his desperate cock. He could perfectly see all the foreplay Jill had done, your breast perked and tight the nipples erect. Your lips were coated in your juices, your pussy puffy and waiting to sink on him. Leon’s hands gripped at the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. He almost forgot Jill was in the room until her thighs landed at either side of his head, muting the sounds of the room as she cushioned them. He wanted to groan, to protest that he wouldn’t be able to hear the wet sounds of your pussy riding on his cock. Your sweet little moans as he makes you feel full. It was all his favourite part. 

He watched as you sunk onto his cock, his length disappearing inside of you. Your ass putting the right amount of pleasure on his balls. You didn’t move, just waited patiently for Jill’s next instruction - always the good girl he thought. He had trained you well. A shadow formed over his face as he looked up to be met with the view of Jill’s pussy. Her arousal had coated her despite the lack of attention she had given herself. As if making the both of you feel good was enough for her. He watched greedily as Jill lowered herself onto his face. A smirk already filled his features as he thought about his next move. Unlike you, Leon didn’t play by the rules. Jill’s control faltered and he began to feast upon her. He could feel her thighs tighten around his head muting the sounds around him further, her hips already rocking against his stubble. 

It was his turn to moan again as you began to move, working yourself to an orgasm focusing only on his lower half. He could feel your fingers lightly scrape at his abs, your nails digging into the muscles as you worked yourself on his cock. Your walls fluttered as you brought yourself closer to your orgasm, he wanted to focus on the feeling but with Jill riding her face it was hard. 

His cock was so painfully hard with all the attention on him. “Such an attention whore” You chuckled to the woman oppiste you. The only one that could actually hear you. Jill laughed as well, followed by a loud groan from her as she began to hit his nose just right. Leon’s fingers dug into her hips as he pulled Jill closer to him. Devouring her eagerly. You could feel the puffy veins of his cock as they dragged through you. His cock throbbed the closer he got, his orgasm practically going to explode inside of you. You picked up your speed as best you could, your thighs burning from the movements. Your hands now pressed on his stomach firmly as you worked yourself faster. He smiled against Jill. Her fingers now tugging at the strands of his hair. His nose brushed against her clit with each thrust she made. Leon sucked harder, his tongue working magic as you all attempted to release at the same time. 

He vaguely heard Jill talk again, her commanding voice weakening as her orgasm was impending. He wasn’t sure what the instruction was until he finally felt you clench around his cock. Your perfect cunt sucked him in place as your orgasm shattered through you. He could feel it drip down his balls as they tightened, ready for his release inside of you. To pump you full of him so you wouldn’t forget who you belonged to in this scenario. Jill tugged on his hair, his face getting drenched in her juices as he sucked hard on it. It was only when she lifted she smirked down at his puffy lips and his lust-blown eyes. A pleading look on his face as he continued to thrust up into you like some horny dog. Jill nodded her head, permitting him to finally cum. 

You smiled as his warmth filled you, his cock driving so deep inside as he deposited it. You could feel it drip out of you, creating a cocktail of the two of you. Jill smiled at the intimacy of the two of you. The love you both had made her smile as you both calmed down. “That was-” Leon groaned, his head falling back on soft sheets. You didn’t move, enjoying the feeling of him softening inside of you. Jill placed a kiss on your cheek and ruffled the man's hair a signal of her goodbye. A hidden promise in her eyes as you watched her leave for another round one day soon. 

Leon tugged you into his chest, holding you close in the post-orgasm state. Neither of you said anything instead letting the newfound relaxation take you both into a peaceful sleep. 

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo @crazy-b1tch @misswynters

[horseimagebarn]

archive ask submit faq

hello and welcome to horseimagebarn this is where i write descriptions of horse pictures for my audience in order to explore the questions why how and okay as well as ponder the true nature of the equine i shall now explain the ins and outs of this blog to you for ease of navigation and understanding for this shall be my pinned post for all to enjoy number one you may submit horse images to me that you want me to write a description for and i shall try to oblige you however i receive many many many submissions and cannot always conjure up a description that is both helpful and heartful so i cannot guarantee a fulfillment of your request though i assure you every single submission is looked at and smiled at by myself no matter what number two if you say something funny or cool or interesting every friday i do a weekly interaction recap where i respond to everything i find fun to respond to that week in one place or if its in an ask or reblog i may reblog or respond to that separately we will see number three my horses are categorized using a tagging system if you wish to navigate them here or in my archive here are all of the tags i use and links to view them neighhhh - typical horse posts this is for when you just want to see the horses without seeing my asks or reblogs

joy - for the happy

whimsy - for the positive oddities and love of life

cursed - this is cursed

lament - for sadness

anger - self explanatory

sloth - laziness and comfort

love - horses that are in love

friendship - horse or horses and some other being or beings displaying friendship

indulgence - indulging in food water alcohol drugs etc

intelligence - doing tasks that hint at an above average intelligence

small - small or miniature horses

baby - baby horses

decadence - fanciness and elaborateness

evil - evilness and cruelty

unusual - this is unusual

vehemence - upset or disgust

styling - for all the well dressed horses

dog - there is a dog in the image

cat - there is a cat in the image

animals - all other animals

cute - i think this horse is cute

aquatics - the horse is in the water

uncomfortable - the horse is uncomfortable or i am uncomfortable

regular - a pretty regular and or uncontroversial image of a horse

interesting - just interesting to me

beautiful - a truly gorgeous image

weather - horse interacting with the aspect of weather

singular horse - one horse

multiple horses - multiple horses

indoors - indoor horse

outdoors - outdoor horse

horseimagebarn talking - i am speaking in a post that is not the typical horse post like asks or reblogs and such so if you are just here for the horses and not my other strange ramblings i suggest muting this tag

horseimagebarn announcements - announcements regarding horseimagebarn

horseimagebarn weekly recap - aforementioned weekly interaction recaps trinket - one specific miniature horse that is an etsy model of beautiful miniature horse clothes in my local area that i have a parasocial relationship with enjoy my blog and remember to love horses every day or at least most days

[brighan]

Some miscellaneous Warframe arts I never posted here and I shall now re-link in Warframe's forums!

Luckily I've been able to find everything else in here rather easily (thank you tag system)

[juiles]

Food poisoning blues

Requested: no

Plot: y/n gets food poisoning and deals with the after math with her moms

tags: fluff

Triggers: vomiting, sickness, food poisoning, dryheaving.

Masterlist here. Sticking out sucks masterlist here. Taglist here. Request form here.

A/N: i got a really bad case of food poisoning this weekend and due to my mums immune system, she couldnt give me any affection or help me at all (i had to clean up my vomit) and even though im 27, i for sure cried for my mommy cause thats all who i wanted at the time aha. because of that i felt the need to write this to get what i needed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n’s POV

I sat on my bed staring at the wall, my stomach grumbling loudly as a wave of nausea hit my stomach so hard I had to run to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet in time to puke my guts out. I heard a bang and felt a hand on my forehead before I jerked back as another wave of nausea hit me again and I threw up into the toilet again, feeling my mama’s hand graze against my head and pulled the red strands back into a secure ponytail.

My stomach gurgled and I leaned back against Natasha’s warm body, my arms wrapping around my stomach. She pushed the baby hairs out of my face and sighed sadly. “You’ve got a fever love.” She mumbled into my temple. I groaned turning into her and mumbled nothings into her.

“I’m going to call your mom in okay peanut?” I heard her mumble into my hair before peeling me off herself and placing a small kiss on my forehead. It felt like a few seconds later when my bathroom door opened with a thud and I felt another cool hand on my forehead. “Oh detka.” A calm sokovian voice murmured and I looked up and saw a small blob of red and brown hair floating above me.

“Mommy…” I murmured before another round of nausea hit me so hard I couldn’t even lean forward towards the toilet before it came up, all over me and my already sweaty pyjamas. A small gasp was heard before a hand reached forward and helped pull me towards the toilet where I took a few moments of dry heaving before my body stopped again. I looked back at my moms who now looked a little more focused, I could make out the pouts on their faces.

“Detka… shall we get you in the tub to clean you off a little?” Wanda asked. I whined sitting back against Natasha again.

Wanda’s POV

When Natasha dashed down the stairs, a look of panic in her eyes. “Sick.” It was one word that made my stomach plummet. I bolted up the stairs and skittered into my daughters bathroom to see her curled up in a ball on the floor. “Oh detka…” I murmured before her face looked up at me with the saddest green eyes, glazed over with a fever. She looked so small and weak at that moment, it was almost hard to forget how hard her life had been. I felt Nat place her hand on my back and I looked up with a small pout then back at our new daughter.

“Mommy…” My heart stuttered for a moment before y/n threw up all over herself. I gasped lightly and helped move her towards the toilet to catch the rest of her vomit before she started to dry heave. After she finished, I pushed the hair out of her face and looked at the young girl who leaned back into my girlfriend who had slid into place behind her.

“Detka… shall we get you in the tub to clean you off a little?” I asked, the pout on my face increasing when I saw the sad little face she gave me before leaning whining into Nat. “Do you want me and mama to help you?” I asked, the girl barely managed to lift her head with a small nod. “Alright princess. Let mama help you take off those yucky pj’s off while I start the bath.”

I looked at Nat who nodded and started stripping the wet clothes off the girl. I turned to the tub and turned the tap on to luke warm water before plugging the tub and grabbing the shampoo and soap. I saw Nat place the girl in the water before we both heard a high pitch whine. “Mommy!!!!” I cupped her cheek. “Mommy cold!!!!”

“I know baby… itll warm up soon. Mommy is gonna wash your hair and your body okay?” I asked softly. We couldn’t even get an answer out of her so I took a loofah and slowly washed her body down before rinsing her off. She sat in the water for a few more minutes after Nat and I decided to see if it would help with the fever.

“Mommy done…” She muttered reaching for me, trying to get away from the cold water that Nat had placed her in. “Mommy out please…” I grabbed a towel and scooped the girl up, with the help of Nat, wrapping her up in the fluffy towel. Green eyes widened and I quickly got the girl leaning over the toilet before she threw up once more, this time only stomach acid coming out. She whined after dry heaving for a few more minutes before I pulled her into me, with the help of Tasha, I got her tucked up into her bed, me sitting beside her, her head buried in my lap while Nat got herself cleaned up.

I brushed her hair the best I could then quickly braided it to keep it out of her face. “That’s it sweet girl… mommys got you…” I muttered running my hand up and down her back.

“Mama too…?” Green eyes shined up at me, tears forming in them as she sniffled. “Want mommy and mama…” I nodded humming slightly.

“Yes detka. Mama is just cleaning herself off.” Her eyes widened. “Its not your fault princess. What do you wanna watch while we cuddle hmm?”

“Sleepy…”

“I know baby… mommy will put on your favourite hmm? You can watch until you fall asleep baby.” I grabbed the remote off the bedside table and turned on Netflix. I flicked through until I got to Matilda the musical. I clicked on it, lowering the volume slightly so she could fall asleep. “Do you need anything else princess?”

“Mama mommy cuddles… hurts…” She whined curling up against her stomach.

“I know princess. Mama is grabbing the bucket in case you get sick again. Try and sleep baby…”

Nat finally came back in, holding a bucket, two glasses of water, our phones and her favourite blanket from our bed. The redhead crawled into bed beside our daughter, so the girl was buried in between the two of us. The girl instantly curled up into her mamas arms as well, as I set the glass of water down beside me that Nat had handed to me. We both held her tight as she shook from the fever.

It was about 30 minutes later she jerked out of my arms and towards the bucket and dry heaved. Her cries breaking my heart.

Y/n’s POV

I had finally settled in between my parents when I felt the bubbling in my stomach. I whined curling in on my self, my mama rubbing my back, my mom rubbing small circles on my stomach. I don’t know how long I lasted before the churning came back and I had to jerk up, grabbing the bucket beside my mama and retched, nothing left in me to come up so it was just dry heaving.

I felt mama’s hand rubbing my back in circles as I cried. The pain was so intense as I tried to get it out, whatever it was. My body was shaking like crazy as I sobbed into the bucket. Finally I felt the last of it and was able to sit back, once again wrapping my arms around my stomach. “No more mama…”

“I know baby… itll be over soon…” I curled back up into my mothers and tried to fall back asleep. “She hasn’t really left the compound recently… it can’t be a bug…” I heard mama whisper to mom.

“It must be food poisoning, she had that sushi the other day… it must not be agreeing with her body…” Mom whispered lightly. I moaned, which had the both of them hushing the other.

“Mommy  done now?” I looked up at the blue eyes that stared at me with nothing but love and admiration. “No more?”

“Oh bug… it’ll be a little longer and you'll feel a little yucky for the next few days but mommy and mama will be with you the whole time.”

Taglist: @asiangmrchk13 @boredandneedfanfics @mythixmagic @natashamaximoff-69