#this seems like something max would take!!

[raekensluver]

WICKED OBSESSION - EX!LUIGI MANGIONE x FEM!READER

DESCRIPTION: after breaking up with luigi, you start to notice that guys keep avoiding you. turns out, luigi's been threatening every frat brother, saying if they even talk to you, he'd fuck them up.

CONTAINS: toxic!luigi, loud messy frat party, emotional manipulation, fingering, handjob, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

w.c: 5.1k

a/n: i'm revoking my claim of never doing rpf.

you step into the throbbing heart of the phi kappa psi fraternity house, your friend hannah's hand clutching yours like a lifeline. the air is thick with the scent of cheap beer and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards. hannah's eyes sparkle with excitement, her glossy lips parted in a wide grin. you, on the other hand, feel like you're about to step into the lion's den. your ex, luigi, is the frat's president, and the last thing you need is to run into his brooding gaze.

the room is a kaleidoscope of college debauchery, a sea of red plastic cups and sweaty bodies. hannah tugs you through the crowd, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she weaves between groups of laughing guys and flirtatious girls. the lights flicker overhead, casting eerie shadows that dance on the walls. the music is so loud that the words of the songs are lost to the beat, a thumping rhythm that seems to pulse in your very soul.

finally, you manage to extricate your hand from hers, feigning the need for a drink as an escape. the kitchen is a war zone of spilled beer and forgotten snacks, but you spot a relatively clean counter in the corner. you make your way over, dodging elbows and stray hands, feeling the heat of the room press against your skin. the coolness of the countertop is a welcome relief. you lean against it, trying to catch your breath, watching the chaos unfold before you like a silent film.

the frat house is a labyrinth of hormones and bad decisions, a place you thought you knew like the back of your hand. but now, post-luigi, it feels alien, hostile even. you can almost feel his presence in the air, a dark cloud that follows you wherever you go. your hand shakes as you lift a cup to your lips, the cheap beer burning down your throat. the taste is bitter, but it's the liquid courage you need to face the night ahead.

from the corner of your eye, you spot luigi. he's surrounded by his pack of frat brothers, all of them laughing too loudly at a joke that isn't funny. their muscles flex as they jostle each other, beer sloshing over the rims of their cups. his eyes, usually so piercing, are glazed with alcohol, his smile too wide, too forced. you realize with a sinking feeling that he's looking for you, scanning the room with the intensity of a predator hunting its prey. he knew you would come, you wouldn't pass up an opportunity of free drinking and dancing.

you swivel on your heel, heart racing, and try to melt back into the crowd. the sea of bodies shifts and sways, and suddenly, you're face to chest with a broad, unfamiliar guy. he's tall, with dark hair that's a little too long and a five o'clock shadow that's a little too perfect. your cheeks heat up as you tumble into him, your cup of beer splashing onto his shirt.

"whoa, there!" he laughs, grabbing your shoulders to steady you. his grip is firm but gentle, and his eyes are a warm brown that seems to see right through you. "are you okay?"

his voice is deep and comforting, and for a moment, you almost forget about luigi. almost. "yeah," you murmur, stepping back and looking down at the beer stains on his shirt. "i'm so sorry about your shirt."

he shrugs it off with a grin. "it's cool. happens all the time in here." he holds out his hand to you, his grip still warm from when he caught you. "i'm max," he says, his smile somehow making the room feel less threatening.

you take a deep breath and whisper your name into the chaos. his smile falters for a split second, replaced by a look of shock and something else. something you can't quite place. his eyes widen, and he takes a step back, his hand dropping to his side. "i…uh…i should go find my friends," he stammers, his demeanor doing a complete 180. the warmth from moments ago is replaced by a cold shoulder that sends a shiver down your spine.

before you can respond, max is lost in the sea of partygoers, and you're left standing there, feeling more alone than ever. you turn to find hannah, needing the familiar comfort of her bubbly energy. she's surrounded by a couple of guys from neighboring fraternities, their heads tilted towards her as they hang on her every word. when she sees you, she waves you over, her smile never dimming. the guys look you up and down, their smiles fading as you approach.

as if on cue, they mumble their goodbyes and drift away, leaving hannah looking at you with concern. "what happened?" she shouts over the music, her voice barely audible. you tell her about max, about the strange look on his face when you told him your name. her eyes widen in understanding, and she takes a step closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "luigi's been telling everyone not to talk to you," she says, her face a mask of apology. "he said he'd fuck them up if they even looked at you."

your blood boils, and you feel the urge to confront him. storming away from the kitchen, you push through the crowd, each step fueled by anger. the music becomes a distant echo as you navigate the frat house's hallways, the air growing thick with the scent of stale cologne and sweat. you're on a mission, a beacon of rage in the sea of indifference.

as you turn the corner, you spot luigi leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. his eyes narrow when he sees you, a smug smile playing on his lips. you march up to him, your chest heaving with every breath. "what the fuck is your problem?" you spit out, the words barely audible over the cacophony of the party.

his frat brothers, sensing the tension, gather around, their eyes glued to the unfolding drama. they whisper among themselves, passing judgment with their sneers and smirks. "you know how it is," luigi says, his voice low and menacing. "you're mine. nobody else's."

you're fuming, the heat from your anger burning through your veins like molten lava. your teeth grind together as you look him up and down, the words forming on your tongue like shards of glass. "i'm not your property," you reply through gritted teeth. "you don't own me, luigi."

his smugness doesn't waver. "you know how it goes. frat code, baby. can't have my ex mingling with the brothers. it's just not done."

the words are like a slap in the face, bringing you back to reality. the room seems to close in around you, the laughter and music becoming a taunting cacophony. your eyes bore into his, searching for any flicker of remorse, but all you find is cold, hard arrogance. "so you're telling me i'm not allowed to talk to anyone here?" you ask, incredulous.

luigi's smile widens, a wolf in sheep's clothing. "it's for your own good," he says, his tone patronizing. "you wouldn't want to get anyone in trouble, would you?"

without another word, you storm away, desperation fueling your legs as you try to outrun the humiliation. the party blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, each step carrying you closer to hannah. but before you can make your escape, a firm grip wraps around your arm, jerking you back.

luigi's face is inches from yours, his breath reeking of beer and arrogance. "where do you think you're going?" he sneers, his grip tightening.

you try to yank your arm free, but his strength is surprising. "let go of me!" you hiss, your voice a mix of anger and fear.

some of the partygoers have noticed the altercation, their eyes flickering between you and luigi. a few of the frat brothers shift uncomfortably, their smirks faltering. hannah's eyes widen in panic from across the room, her hand hovering over her phone as if ready to call for help. the crowd's gaze feels like a spotlight, exposing every raw emotion on your face.

but luigi doesn't seem to care about the audience. his grip tightens, pulling you through the throng of people. "let go!" you protest, your voice rising above the din. "i don't want to talk to you!"

his eyes narrow, and he leans closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "this isn't about talking, baby." without another word, he drags you through the crowd, the muscles in his arm flexing as he pulls you along. you try to dig your heels into the sticky floor, but it's no use. the room spins, a blur of faces and colors, as he tugs you towards the stairs.

a fresh wave of panic washes over you, the kind that makes your stomach drop and your legs turn to jelly. you're not going to let this happen again. not here, not now. you twist and struggle, trying to break free from his iron grip. a few people cast confused glances your way, but no one intervenes. they're either too drunk, too scared, or too entertained by the spectacle.

"stop it!" you yell, trying to pull away from him. "i said i don't want to go with you!"

his grip only tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. "you're making a scene," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with malice. "play nice and i'll make it worth your while."

swallowing your pride, you decide to play along for now. you let him lead you up the stairs, the wood groaning beneath your weight. the air grows hotter with each step, the anticipation of what awaits in his room a suffocating presence. as you reach the top, the party seems to fade away, leaving only the echo of your racing heart.

his room is clean, just how you remember it from when you two were together. the bed is made, the floor clear of clutter, and his desk is organized with textbooks and a laptop. the only signs of the party are the faint scent of beer and the distant throb of music. it's eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos downstairs.

luigi shuts the door behind you, the finality of the act sending a shiver down your spine. you stand there, arms crossed, trying to appear unaffected. his eyes roam over your body, his gaze lingering in a way that makes you want to squirm. "see, baby," he says, his voice a low purr. "it's just like old times."

you bite your tongue, fighting the urge to scream. "we're not together anymore," you remind him, your voice shaking slightly. "you don't get to talk to me like that."

his smile turns into a sneer. "you think that little breakup changes anything?" he takes a step closer, invading your personal space. "you're still mine."

you stand your ground, your eyes narrowing. "i'm not your anything," you reply firmly. "and you don't get to decide who i talk to or where i go."

his smile falters, his grip on your arm loosening slightly. "please," he says, his voice dropping to a sweet, cajoling tone that you once found endearing. "just give me another chance. we can make it work, i promise."

his eyes are filled with a desperate longing, and for a moment, you almost believe him. almost. but then you remember the countless nights of his empty promises, the way his sweet words always turned sour with his controlling nature. "no," you reply, your voice firm. "i'm not going back to that."

his hand slides down your arm to your wrist, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. "think about all the fun we had, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. "the parties, the dates, the nights we spent wrapped up in each other."

you can feel the memories tugging at your heartstrings, trying to pull you back into the warm embrace of nostalgia. he's good at this, at playing the part of the lovesick ex, reminding you of the good times to make the bad ones seem like a distant memory. "don't do this," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "i'm not going to fall for it."

but luigi presses on, his free hand tracing the outline of your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin beneath your eye. "the parties, the road trips, the secret little moments we shared," he says, his voice a siren's song that fills the room. "remember when we snuck out onto the roof that one night?" his breath is hot and moist, his mouth so close to yours that you can almost taste the beer on his lips.

you close your eyes, trying to block out his words, but the memories come flooding back unbidden. the feeling of the cool night air against your skin, the stars above. "that was a long time ago," you murmur, trying to keep the longing out of your voice.

but luigi doesn't take the hint. instead, he leans in, his mouth moving to your neck. his teeth graze against your skin, finding that one spot that always made you gasp. his lips are hot and insistent, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty sweetness of your flesh. your knees threaten to buckle, your body betraying you even as your mind screams no.

his hand slides up to cradle your face, tilting it to the side to give him better access. his kisses become more fervent, his breathing heavier. you can feel his semi-hard dick pressing against your hip, a blunt reminder of his intentions. a shiver runs down your spine as his teeth graze that sensitive spot, the one that used to make you melt into a puddle of desire.

his muscular arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer, so that not even a sliver of air can pass between your bodies. the warmth of his embrace feels both comforting and suffocating at the same time. your mind reels, torn between the desire to push him away and the nostalgic pull of his touch. his hands begin to roam, tracing the curves of your body as if he's trying to claim ownership once again.

his mouth is hot and demanding, his kisses leaving a trail of fire along your neck. your breath hitches, and your hands, which were balled into fists at your side, start to relax. the anger that had been fueling you dissipates, replaced by a confusing mix of arousal and regret. your body responds to his touch despite your better judgment, your heart pounding in your chest.

his hands roam down to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer. your legs are trembling, your mind a tornado of conflicting emotions. you know you should push him away, but the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne are intoxicating and your resolve crumbles.

you sigh out "lu," his nickname that only you would use with him, and his eyes flash with victory. his mouth captures yours, his tongue pushing past your lips to explore the warm cavern of your mouth. the taste of him is bittersweet, a reminder of what you've lost and what you stand to lose again if you let him back in.

his hands move up to tangle in your hair, pulling gently as he kisses you with a passion that leaves you dizzy. your own hands come up to rest on his chest, the muscles beneath your fingertips a stark reminder of his physical dominance. you can feel the thump of his heart, a steady rhythm that matches the bass of the music downstairs.

you give in, letting the kiss deepen, your tongue dancing with his. his other hand slides down to squeeze your ass, his fingers digging in as he grinds against you. a moan escapes your lips, and his grip tightens, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

without breaking the kiss, you kick off your heels, the sound of them hitting the floor lost in the symphony of the party's din. the sensation of being barefoot on the plush carpet sends a shiver up your legs, making you feel vulnerable yet powerful. his hands move to the zipper of your dress, slowly lowering it as you arch into his touch.

his fingers trace the newly exposed skin, the coolness of the room making you shiver with anticipation. your dress pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your lacy lingerie. he pulls away, his eyes raking over your body with a hunger that makes you feel both wanted and exposed.

his shirt comes off in one swift motion, revealing a chest that's seen its fair share of gym time. his abs are a sculpted six-pack, the result of countless hours of working out and disciplined dieting. the sight of him sends a wave of desire crashing through you, a feeling you thought you'd buried along with the relationship.

"you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. his voice is thick with want, a stark contrast to the coldness he'd shown downstairs. his hand moves up to trace the curve of your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple, already pebbled with need. "i've missed this," he says, his breath warm against your skin.

you bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape. his touch is like a drug, a potent reminder of how good things used to be. his other hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer so that his erection presses against your stomach. "i've missed you," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "you're all i think about."

his hand moves lower, his fingers teasing the waistband of your panties. you know you should stop him, that this is going too far, but the need is too great. your body aches for the release that only he knows how to give you. "luigi please," you breathe, your voice a mix of pleasure and warning.

his response is a low chuckle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "don't worry, baby," he murmurs, his hands continuing their slow descent. "i've got you."

before you can protest, his fingers slide under the elastic of your panties, his touch setting your body alight. your eyes flutter shut as he strokes you, his touch sure and precise. it's like he's never forgotten how to play your body like a fine instrument, coaxing out the sweetest melody. your hips rock against his hand, betraying your body's desperate need.

his thumb circles your clit, the sensation making your legs wobble. you grab onto his shoulders for support, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "luigi," you whimper, his name a prayer and a curse on your lips. his other hand snakes up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking the hardened peak. your body responds instinctively, arching into his touch.

his mouth finds your neck again, kissing and nipping as he continues to pleasure you. your breath hitches, your nails digging into his skin. the room spins, and for a moment, you're lost in the sensation of his hands on your body. it's like nothing has changed, like you're right back in the throes of your tumultuous relationship.

his strong arms scoop you up, and suddenly you're being carried to his bed, the mattress bouncing slightly as he lays you down. the room feels like it's spinning, the only constant his warm body hovering over you, his eyes dark with desire. your dress is a forgotten pool of fabric on the floor, and your panties are next to go as he tugs them down with one hand, his other arm still holding you tight.

his mouth trails down your body, kissing and licking every inch of skin he uncovers. your breasts are heavy with need, the sensation of his hot mouth on them making you squirm. his tongue circles your nipples, his teeth gently tugging. your back arches off the bed, a keening sound escaping your lips. he's everywhere, his touch a brand that marks you as his.

his hand moves down to your pussy, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. your hips buck, seeking more, and he gives it to you, his fingers sliding inside you with a practiced ease that makes you cry out. he knows just how to touch you, just how to make you crave more. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles as he fucks you with his hand.

your eyes are squeezed shut, and your hands are clutching the sheets, your knuckles white. the room is spinning, and all you can focus on is the building pressure in your core. "lu," you whimper, a plea for more. he obliges, his strokes becoming faster, harder. your breath comes in panting gasps as you feel yourself approaching the edge.

but just as you're about to tip over, just as you can almost feel the sweet release of your climax, he stops. his hand lingers, his thumb still gently rubbing your clit. your eyes fly open, and you look up at him with confusion and desperation. "what are you doing?" you manage to choke out.

his smirk is cold, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "you're not in charge here, baby," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "i decide when you cum."

you're panting, your body trembling with need. the frustration coils in your stomach like a snake, venomous and potent. "please," you beg, your voice barely recognizable. "i'm so close."

his smirk widens, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "you want it?" his voice is a dark promise, a seductive purr that sends shivers down your spine. "say it. say you're mine."

desperation claws at you, the need for release so intense that it overpowers your pride. your eyes flutter closed, and the words slip from your mouth before you can stop them. "i'm yours," you moan, the admission a sweet surrender to the moment.

his smile is triumphant, his eyes gleaming with victory. "good girl," he murmurs, his voice a dark caress that sends a shiver down your spine. his hand resumes its delicious torment, his fingers plunging back into your wet heat. you can feel your body clench around him, eager for the orgasm he holds in his grasp.

his thumb presses down harder on your clit, the pressure building until it's all you can focus on. "yes," you hiss, your body arching off the bed. you're so close, the edge of pleasure so sharp it's almost painful.

his fingers work you faster now, his hand a blur between your legs. "say it again," he demands, his voice a low growl. "say you're mine."

you whimper, the word caught in your throat. "i'm yours…luigi," you gasp out, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. your eyes squeeze shut, your body straining towards the release he dangles just out of reach.

his response is immediate, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing harder. your body tenses, every muscle tightening as the orgasm washes over you. it's like a wave, crashing down and consuming you whole. your back arches off the bed, a keening cry tearing from your throat. his name is a mantra on your lips, a declaration of surrender to the passion that still burns between you.

as the tremors of pleasure subside, you're aware of his eyes on you, watching your every reaction. his gaze is possessive, his smirk smug. "see, baby," he says, his voice a low rumble. "you still need me."

you swipe at his hand, your own hand shaking with a mix of anger and need. "you're an asshole," you spit out, but the fire in your voice is doused by the desperate ache between your legs.

his smirk turns into a full-blown grin, and he leans back, giving you space. "you love it," he says, his voice a taunt. "you know you do."

you ignore the taunt, reaching for the button of his pants with trembling hands. your mind is a battlefield, torn between anger and lust. but the need is too great, too all-consuming. you want to prove to yourself that you still have power here, that you can still make him crave you.

his eyes widen as you push his pants and boxers down, his erection springing free. it's thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum. you wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat of his desire, and stroke firmly. his breath hitches, his eyes closing briefly in pleasure. "you want this," you murmur, your voice low and sultry. "you can't resist me."

his hips jerk at your touch, and he opens his eyes to meet your gaze. "always," he says, his voice strained. "i've always wanted you."

you stroke him faster, watching as the muscles in his neck tighten, his jaw clench. you can feel the tension in his body, the way his abs flex with each breath he takes. his hand moves to grip your wrist, guiding your movements, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand.

his eyes lock onto yours, the smugness replaced by raw need. "you need me," you whisper, your voice a challenge. "you need me just as much as i need you."

his hand tightens on your wrist, his hips bucking upward. "yes," he groans, the word torn from his chest. "i do."

his admission sends a thrill through you, a dark satisfaction that fills the void his earlier cruelty had left. you stroke him faster, your other hand reaching down to cup his balls, feeling them tighten in your palm. he throws his head back, his abs tensing as he fights for control.

his eyes snap back to yours, a storm of passion brewing in their depths. "please," he says, his voice a ragged plea that you've never heard from him before. "i need to be inside you."

you hesitate for a moment, the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze heavy on your heart. but the need is too great, the chemistry between you a living, breathing entity that refuses to be ignored. you nod, your decision made.

his eyes flare with desire, and he moves to cover your body with his, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. his cock nudges against your slick entrance, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you. he's always known how to push your buttons, how to make you want him even when you're at your most defiant.

his weight is a comfort, a familiar anchor that grounds you in a sea of confusion. the feeling of his muscular body pressing you into the mattress is like coming home after a long, hard day. his scent fills your nose, a potent mix of sweat, cologne, and something uniquely him that makes your stomach flip. his chest is a wall of warmth, rising and falling with each ragged breath he takes.

he reaches behind you and unclips and removes your bra. your back arches up to give him better access before his hand slides down to cup your ass, his fingers digging in as he lifts you slightly. his cock slides into you with a smoothness that speaks of a thousand nights spent learning the intricacies of your body. the stretch is delicious, the friction perfect. you gasp into his mouth as he fills you completely, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips. the sensation is overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that drowns out the cacophony of the party downstairs.

his rhythm is punishing, his hips pistoning into you with a need that borders on desperation. every stroke hits that perfect spot, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. your nails dig into his back, leaving half-moons on his skin. his muscles are taut, his movements powerful and sure, a stark reminder of the control he's always had over you.

you try to keep up, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper. his hand moves to squeeze your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple until you're whimpering. the room is a blur of sensations, the only thing in focus the feel of his cock sliding in and out of you. your orgasm builds again, a crescendo that threatens to shatter you into a million pieces.

his mouth moves to your neck, his teeth scraping your skin. "you gonna cum for me?" he taunts, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. your body responds, your muscles tightening around his shaft. "yes," you gasp, the word a plea and a declaration all at once.

his pace quickens, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. your own breathing matches his, each inhale and exhale a symphony of need. your nails dig into his back, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure, a potent cocktail that fuels your desire. your hips meet his, your body moving in sync with his, a dance you've performed countless times before.

his hand moves between your legs, his thumb finding your clit again. he rubs it in tight, fast circles that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. the pressure inside you builds, a crescendo that feels like it will never end. "please lu," you gasp, your voice a desperate whisper.

his thrusts become more erratic, his body tensing as he chases his release. the head of his cock hits your g-spot with every plunge, sending waves of pleasure through your body. your own orgasm is just out of reach, a teasing ghost that you can almost touch. "cum," he grunts, his voice commanding you with strained with effort.

his thumb presses down on your clit, his movements relentless. your body responds like it's been programmed, the pleasure building until it's unbearable. and then, with a final, desperate plea, you do. your orgasm crashes over you, your pussy spasming around his cock. your body arches off the bed, your toes curling. the world narrows to just the two of you, lost in the intensity of the moment.

his own climax follows swiftly, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself inside you. the feeling of his warm cum filling you sends another shockwave of pleasure through your body. your legs tighten around him, holding him close as he rides out his climax. the room is filled with the sound of your mingled gasps and moans, the heady scent of sex thick in the air.

for a moment, you're lost in the aftermath, your bodies entwined and trembling. your heart is racing, your chest heaving with every breath. but as the haze of pleasure begins to clear, reality crashes back down around you. what have you done?

[lqveharrington]

steve harrington - you are in love <3

congrats on 2k!

You Are In Love | S.H.

summary: you and steve have been best friends forever, but overtime, you both realize that there's something more to your friendship than you both thought there was.

pairing: steve harrington x hopper!reader

includes: fluff, minimal usage of Y/N, oblivious idiots, kissing, el and reader are siblings, robin and max play match maker

a/n: cutie patootie stevie! (rules for celebration here!)

Steve Harrington was the type of man girls would go crazy over. From the way he behaved to the way he dressed, they would do anything to get his attention. Luckily for you, he deemed you to be his best friend since childhood. When Tommy and Carol whined about you always hanging around them in high school, Steve would swiftly change the subject. He really only liked hanging out with you anyway.

When you both graduated, something shifted between the two of you. Without the hindrance of Tommy and Carol, you and Steve were free to do whatever you wanted. Whenever you would hang around him, it felt like time would stop. He kept you on your toes despite knowing him for so long.

Weekly dinners around Hawkins during the year would soon become a tradition between the two of you. In your eyes they were friendly dates, but to the kids, you were practically dating. From the whispers as you hung back with him when taking the kids around the mall to the silver necklace he bought you during the summer — they saw something you and Steve couldn't.

They had to do something about it. Fortunately for them, you both made it quite easy.

"Harrington, are you taking me to dinner today or should we reschedule?" You hop onto the counter of Family Video, crossing your legs and smiling brightly at him. "Henderson told me you might have to drive him home after his DND thing or whatever."

"First of all," He started and pulled your legs to the side, sending you a bored look. "I'm at work and you can't bother me." You jokingly pout and follow his movements, watching him restock the bowl of candies at the front. "Secondly, we're still on for dinner. Dustin can get a ride from Munson."

You throw your head back and laugh, "Ah yes, the shared custody of your child."

He rolled his eyes and looked past your head, narrowing his eyes at Max and Eleven. "Why did the girls want to come here again?"

"Uhm, they said they were checking out a new movie that came out." You shrug and slide off the counter. You look in their direction to find them giggling and whispering about something you almost wanted to know about. Almost. "Anyway, don't miss me too much. I'll see you in a few hours, Harrington."

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of your head and pushed a stray piece of hair away from your face. "I'll see you in a bit, Hopper."

You grinned at him and sent him one last wave before rounding up the girls, dragging them back to your car. Before you could even ask them to buckle up, they began hounding you with questions you never expected them to ask. One of the more odd questions sticking out the most.

"Have you ever slept with Steve?" Eleven asked, making you whip around with wide eyes and mouth agape. Her own eyes widened in fear and looked at you with concern. "What?"

Your face flushed a dark red and you began to stutter over your words, unsure of where the question even originated from. "Well, I— No, I haven't but I'm— I'm sorry? What's happening? Do you even know what that means?"

"That you sleep in the same bed as him." She tilted her head and giggled at your red face. "Is that not what that means?"

Max shook her head but found it all amusing, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at you. "You seem a little flustered, Hopper. What's up with that?"

"Nothing." You glare at her from your rear view as you pull out of the parking and begin the drive to her house. When Eleven still stared in confusion, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Yes, I have slept in the same bed as Steve before. And not like that, Mayfield."

"What?"

You shake your head and follow the road down, eyes occasionally flickering up to look at the girls who were still giggling. You didn't understand what they were trying to get at. You've always been able to sleep in the same bed as Steve since an incident years ago, but that was the extent of it all. Sure, you would occasionally sleep in one of his shirts and he would make you breakfast in the mornings, but that was it.

"Have you ever been on a date, Y/N?" Eleven asked again and fiddled with the ends of her sweater, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "Like the ones me and Mike go on?"

"Uh," You signal and stop at a red light, fingers tapping the steering wheel in an effort to keep your cool. "I have, but it's been a while since I've been on a date."

As you turn, Eleven makes another comment that nearly makes you swerve right off the road. "I thought you and Steve were dating."

You choke on your spit and grip the wheel harder, face redder than Max's hair. Although you knew your sister's words were somewhat innocent, you knew the other girl was behind all the questioning. Steve was nothing but a friend to you. Your best friend. It would be weird to think of him as anything other than that, right?

Since childhood, he was nothing but your best friend. Sometimes you couldn’t help but think what would happen if anything else came out of it, but only in your dreams. When you realized how quiet you were, you silently cursed yourself for staying silent for too long as the girls came to their own conclusion.

"He kisses you a lot." Max drawled and bit back a smirk when your face reddens again, the sight nearly making her laugh once more. "Like more than you study for your exams in college—"

"What will it take for you two to be quiet for the rest of the ride?" You continue to glare at the red-head in the backseat and squint when she opened her mouth. "And your answer will not be money."

Max sighed and looked at Eleven, their eyes meeting and silently communicating with each other. They grinned wickedly and looked over at you, tone overly sweet when they answered your question.

"Admit you're in love with Steve Harrington."

"Oh, Stevie!" Robin grinned widely as she sauntered back in from the break room, leaning back against the counter. She met his confused eyes and tilted her head, still wearing a mischievous grin. "I have a tiny, little question for you."

Steve dug through the boxes underneath the table and waved his hand, barely listening to the girl. "Which is?"

"Could I just — I dunno — take a peek at your wallet?” She asked and pursed her lips to stop from laughing when she saw his incredulous expression peek from underneath the counter. “I just want to make sure my assumptions are right.”

"About what?" Steve sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his hair, praying that his hair still looked perfect after how many times he had done it.

"Just give me your stupid wallet." Robin huffed and snatched the leather from his hands. She scrunched her nose at him before opening the wallet, gasping when she found what she was looking for. "Oh my gosh."

Steve creased his brows and looked at the contents of his wallet. There was nothing but cash, his license, cards, and picture he’s had since high school. If Robin was planning on stealing, she picked the wrong day.

"What?"

"You do have a picture of Y/N in your wallet!" Robin all but squealed like a child, causing the customers in the store to look over at the commotion.

Steve sent them a strained smile before grabbing his wallet back from Robin and tucking it away, muttering quiet obscenities to the girl. Robin rolled her eyes, but the smirk that curled her lips overtook her emotions. He knew that some kind of electricity between the two oblivious idiots.

"You like her!" She spoke in a sing-song voice, lightly punching his shoulder. Robin laughed in excitement and shook her head before pausing, turning to look at Steve like a behavioral analyst. "Unless it's something more."

He looked to his left and to his right before raising a brow at her. He would never admit it out loud, but somewhere along the line he fell for you. Hard. From summer car drives to coffee at midnight — you were the one for him. Yet he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

When Steve stayed silent for too long, she started to punch his shoulder in excitement again. It was the silence between asking about love that seemed to trigger everyone today.

"Oh, you're in love! Steve 'the hair' Harrington finally falls in love with his one true love!" She dramatically put a hand to her forehead and leaned back on the counter again. "I thought I would never live to see the day that happens."

He huffed and lightly shoved her, rubbing his hand over his face. "She's my best friend."

"And?" Robin pushed him back and continued to smile, clearly finding his reaction amusing. It wasn’t rare for her to tease him about his dates, but knowing that he was deeply in love with you made it so much more fun. "She clearly likes you too."

"She does?" Steve perked up and rolled his eyes when she winked at him. He flipped her off and pretended to be busy again. “You’re so annoying.”

"Stevie is in love!" She laughed again and sighed softly, tapping her fingers against the counter. "You're going to dinner with her tonight, right?"

He sent her an odd look and nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, what does that—?"

"Confess tonight! I'm sure she loves you too, Harrington." She slammed her palms down onto the counter, once again attracting the customers in the store. Steve sent them another apologetic look before turning his head to glare at the girl. By the end of the day, he swore that they would get a complaint about Robin.

Robin put a hand up to his face when she saw he was going to speak. “And before you back out, the girls and I already made a plan so nothing becomes awkward between the two of you if it fails."

Steve’s eyes widened and pushed her hand out of the way, mind reeling at all the knew information. "Wait what?"

"Nothing!"

After dinner, you both decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. The temperature was perfect and you and Steve had plenty of calories to kill before heading to bed. Besides, you both had unspoken words to say to one another.

"Are you okay? You've been acting strange since you picked me up." You nudged your shoulder with his and tilted your head, eyes worried with concern.

As you walked through the neighborhood, the orange lights from the posts began to flicker on as the sun set in front of you. On instinct, you moved closer to Steve, accommodating to the warmth you were losing. He hid a small smile and pulled you close by the shoulders.

Steve shrugged and kissed the side of your head again. The gears in his head were loudly turning and he wasn’t sure how to make them stop. He met your eyes and smiled softly when you smiled up at him.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the new diner?" He nudged his head back toward the diner.

You hummed and tapped your chin in thought, snapping your fingers when you figured out how to put it. "A solid six and a half. They threw us a dirty glare for being too loud, but their milkshakes were perfect."

He raised his brows and chuckled softly when you rolled your eyes at him. You were always such a sucker for strawberry milkshakes. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Harrington.” You send him a teasing smile before extending your arm and flashing him your left hand adorned with the wrapping from the straw wrapper. “I even got to make us our paper rings."

You turned to face him properly and grabbed his left hand, lacing them together to show the matching rings. You went to say something else when you found him already staring at you, making your mind instantly blank.

Steve swallowed and squeezed your hand, taking a step closer to you. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You murmur and take your own step closer until you were chest to chest.

His gaze dropped to your lips before looking back into your eyes, eyes filled with so much emotion. You gave him a curt nod and let him cup your cheek, shutting your eyes when he leaned in.

Your lips met and for the first time, you really believed time truly stopped. It was just you and him on the sidewalk of Hawkins, Indiana. Your own hands came up to grab the lapels of his denim jacket, deepening the kiss when he pulled you impossibly closer.

When you finally pulled away, your mind was still blanking and the first thing you could say was —

"Oh, my strawberry milkshake." You whisper out before groaning, hiding your face in his shoulder. "Now the thing I say after we first kiss will always be strawberry milkshake!"

Steve kisses the top of your head and gently squeezed your waist. "You're cute."

You scoff before looking up, playing with the buttons on his jacket. "Did Robin put you up to this?"

"Yep." He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, narrowing his eyes at you when he realized what Robin meant. "Did the girls?"

"Yep." You sigh and push up on your toes to give him a quick peck. You tilt your head when he smiles, "We're not going to tell them about this and make them feel bad, right?"

"Of course not.” He laced his hands with yours and began the trek back to his car. "We're only best friends after all."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

She wasn't fine. Colette was so far from fine that it wasn't even funny anymore.

And now her twin brother had decided to chime in with his own opinions, pouring oil into the fire. 

The thought of the media dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression was unbearable. And still, she couldn't stop herself from doomscrolling.

Colette was in a state of constant anxiety, unable to stop herself from scrolling through social media and the news articles. She knew it wasn't helping her, that it was only adding to her stress, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Every article, every comment, every thread seemed to only add to her worry. The criticism, the speculation, the accusations...it was all too much. But she couldn't look away or stop herself from reading every word, no matter how much it hurt.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiralling cycle, seeking out the information, even though she knew it was bad for her. 

The hormones and the pregnancy symptoms didn't make it any better either. 

The hormones made her emotions more intense, her anxiety more pronounced, and the pregnancy symptoms only added to the stress and discomfort. She wanted desperately for it to end, but it seemed like it would never stop.

The worst of it all was the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. The worry and fear, the relentless stream of "what-if" scenarios.

And the most terrifying thought of all: what if her stress was hurting the baby? The idea that her anxiety could harm the little life growing inside her was a constant one, always at the front of her mind.

“Eat, Choupinette,” her mother insisted. Colette stared down at her plate. Porridge and fruit and whatever else was supposed to be good for her these days. 

But her appetite was nonexistent. The weight of everything that was happening, the thoughts and fears that were running through her mind...it made it difficult to even think about food.

"Eat, Choupinette," her mother insisted again, clearly concerned. "You need to eat something, for the baby's sake. You're too pale."

“I am..”

“You aren’t fine,” her mother cut her off with a disbelieving snort. "You're pale, you haven't been eating properly, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"And don't even try to tell me that the pregnancy is doing that," her mother added, her tone firm. "I had three pregnancies, I know how tiring it is. This isn't just normal exhaustion."

Colette knew that her mother was right. The pregnancy, while exhausting, wasn’t the reason. It was the anxiety, the worry, the stress...it was all taking its toll on her.

But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. The situation was out of her control, even if it was affecting her directly.

It was her own fault why she was in this situation to begin with. 

“I was so stupid.” Colette's shoulders slumped as she muttered under her breath. Her mother shook her head, disagreeing with the assessment.

 "It wasn't the smartest thing," her mother admitted. "But the media is blowing it out of proportion. They're making an elephant out of a fly."

It was a sentiment that Colette wholeheartedly agreed with. But at the same time, she knew that the media was relentless in their pursuit of a story. 

And Colette’s and Max's relationship would be the juiciest scandal they had gotten their hands on in a long, long time.

“I don’t want this to fall back on Charles,” Colette whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Her brother had worked so hard to be where he was, at the pinnacle of motorsport…to drive for the team he loved so much. 

She didn’t want to get Charles into any trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was all on her. And any scandal, any whiff of controversy, could potentially ruin everything Charles had worked so hard for.

Her mother's words were calm, but they hit hard. "Your brother is an adult," she repeated. "He can make his own decisions. And he was the one who decided he wanted to protect you. You didn’t force him to do anything, Choupinette."

Colette knew that her mother was right. Charles was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. But that didn't make her worry any less.

Her phone rang, her hand immediately shooting out for it. It was Max. Her hand was almost shaking as she answered the call.

"Maxie," she breathed, relief and worry mixing in her voice.

Max's voice was gentle, a soothing balm in the storm of chaos that was swirling around her. "Hey liefje," he repeated, the affectionate nickname rolling off his tongue.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice.

"What are you up to?" Max inquired, his tone soft. 

"I'm having breakfast with Maman," she replied, glancing at her mother, who was watching her carefully.  

There was a moment of silence on the line, but she could almost picture Max's expression. He was no doubt worrying just as much as she was, if not more. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with concern. 

Colette let out a shaky sigh, her emotions warring inside her.

She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that she was fine. But Max and her had made themselves a promise ages ago. If there was one thing that Max hated, then it was lying. Even little white lies like this. They didn’t lie. They didn’t sugarcoat. They told the truth. Regardless of how hurtful it could be. 

They told each other the truth. Always. 

“Tired,” she answered weakly. 

"I heard you've been stalking social media again," Max's voice was dry, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

"Charles should really mind his own business," she bit back, her irritation at her twin brother evident. There was just one person that Max could have learnt that from. 

There was a pause, and she knew that Max was choosing his words carefully.  "He's just worried," he said finally. "We all are."

Colette huffed, her irritation at being coddled smouldering. "I don't need everyone to worry about me," she retorted, her tone snippier than she intended.

"We're not doing it to annoy you," Max replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're doing it because we care about you.  I'm worried about you, liefje."

Those words were like a knife through the heart. She could hear the worry and concern in his voice, and it made her feel guilty for being so snappy with him.

Sassy chose that moment to come to jump up on her lap and she petted the Bengal cat absent-mindedly as she made herself a home on Colette’s lap. 

"I know you are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to put her mixed feelings into words. Sassy purred softly. 

"It's okay," Max reassured her, his voice low and soothing. "I know it's hard. But please, try to take care of yourself. For me. For Bébé."

Colette felt the tears well up in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was doing her best. But the words lodged in her throat, replaced by a thick lump of emotion.

"I'm trying," she managed to say, hating how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"I know you are," Max murmured, his voice full of understanding. "But you need to rest, to eat. You're not doing yourself or the baby any favors by skipping meals and staying glued to your phone."

Colette knew he was right. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on her health and her baby. But the stress, and the worry, it made it hard to find an appetite or to switch off her brain.

"I know," she whispered, feeling helpless and frustrated. Max sighed softly on the other end of the line. 

"I wish I could be there," he said, the longing in his voice palpable.

"Me too," she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of their separation.

"I hate being apart during all of this," he mumbled, a rare show of vulnerability from him. "I should be there with you, taking care of you, protecting you from all this damn media noise."

Colette's eyes welled with tears again at his words. "You are taking care of me," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "Just hearing your voice helps more than you know."

"It's not enough," he retorted, his voice firm again. "I should be there, not just talking with you over the phone. I should be able to hold you, to make sure you eat and sleep properly."

Colette could picture the fierce expression on his face, the set of his jaw. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze, his desire to protect and care for her. But she could also hear the frustration and helplessness in his voice.

"Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."

Max let out another sigh, a sound full of frustration and helplessness. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled, his voice betraying his emotions. "I feel so useless here, stuck continents away while you're dealing with all of this alone."

Colette's heart ached at his words. She wanted to assure him that he wasn't useless, that his support through the phone and the occasional visit meant the world to her. But she also understood how powerless he felt, how useless he must feel, miles and miles away from her.

"You're not useless," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

There was a pause on the line, and she could sense Max's turmoil on the other end. "I just wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I wish I could take all this away from you, the stress, the worry, the media. You shouldn't have to deal with all this alone."

Colette felt a fresh burst of tears at his words. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't Superman, that he couldn't fix everything, but she also knew that he would never accept that. Max was a doer, a problem solver. Watching her struggle from afar must be killing him.

"I'm not alone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have you. That's more than enough."

"It's not enough," he mumbled again, the stubborn set to his words making her smile despite herself. She could almost see the familiar stubborn pout on his face even from so far away. "I'm serious," he insisted, his voice firmer now. "I should be the one taking care of you and our baby, not just chatting on the phone."Colette let out a quiet sigh, a mix of amusement and frustration at Max's stubbornness. She loved that he cared so much, but at the same time, she didn't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control.

"Max," she said gently, trying to make him understand. "You do take care of us, even from miles away. Just knowing that you're there for me, that you love us, it means everything. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."

There was another silence on the line, and she could practically picture Max clenching his jaw. She knew that he wanted to protest, that he wanted to argue, to find a solution to make things right. But he also understood that there was nothing he could do right now but accept the situation.

Finally, he sighed, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Okay," he said quietly. "But promise me you'll try to eat and sleep properly. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our baby."

Colette couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his concern. She could hear the love and worry in his voice, the desperate plea for her to take care of herself.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice wobbly but firm. "I'll take care of myself. For you, for Bébé. I promise."

She would even let go of the fact that she was pretty sure that her family were babysitting her. When her mother went home after breakfast, it didn't take too long for Arthur to show up, happily ignoring her pointing out that he actually had work to do and instead he joined her on the couch watching re-runs of The Real Housewives.

Colette rolled her eyes at Arthur's unashamed enjoyment of the reality TV show. He had always been a sucker for messy drama, and the housewives provided plenty of that.

"You are ridiculous," she mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur retorted cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You love this show and you know it."

"I do not," Colette protested, but it sounded halfhearted, even to her own ears.

Quite frankly, she would rather watch fake drama on TV than think about the one happening in real life to her.

Bébé decided at that moment to kick her in her ribs again and she grimaced.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked her immediately.

Colette let out a wince as the baby kicked her again. "Yeah, just baby kicking my ribs again. It's getting more and more frequent," she mumbled, rubbing the spot on her stomach where the baby had kicked.

Arthur chuckled. "The baby's probably just feeling cramped. They want more space," he teased.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Colette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe the baby's just getting impatient and wants to come out already," Arthur said with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don't even joke about that," Colette said, her tone serious. "I still have another month to go. He better stay in there until then.”

She still had around 4 weeks of pregnancy left. 

"Still thinking it's a boy?" Arthur asked her curious.

Colette nodded, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Yeah, I just have a feeling. Call it a mother's intuition," she said with a small smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement. "Or just wishful thinking," he teased her.  "Isn't Max convinced it's a girl?" 

Colette chuckled, thinking about Max's adamant belief that the baby was a girl. "Yeah, he is. He has ordered a bunch of dresses online," she said with a laugh. “And hairbows...so many hairbows…If it's a boy, I don't know what I'll do with all of them."

Arthur started laughing.

Colette shot him a playful glare. "Don't laugh at my predicament," she said, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur couldn't help himself, bursting into another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny picturing Max buying all those dresses and hairbows," he managed to say between chuckles. 

Her phone pinged again.  Colette huffed in irritation as Arthur picked up her phone before she could. "Hey, that's mine," she protested.

Arthur just shot her a cheeky grin. "Finders keepers," he teased, waving the phone just out of her reach. "Besides, no more doomscrolling for you," her younger brother told her seriously.

Colette rolled her eyes at his reprimand, but deep down, she knew he was right. "I wasn't doomscrolling," she mumbled petulantly, even though she knew it was a blatant lie.

"I just...People are making up opinions about me and my life and they don't know me," she said weakly. "That's why I don't even have a public Instagram in the first place, Arthur. I just want to live my life without worrying about what people are going to think..."

"What does it matter what they think?" Arthur asked her curiously.

Colette let out a frustrated sigh. "It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't," she said firmly. "But it does. Maybe it's human nature to care what other people think, I don't know."

She ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "I just don't want people to judge me, to make assumptions about my life and my decisions."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It can be hard to block out the noise. But you have to remember that the only opinion that matters is your own."

Colette let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, tell that to the media," she mumbled, but there was no vitriol in her voice, just resignation.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. "The media don't know what they're talking about. They just want the next big headline, the next scandal. They don't care about the truth."

Colette sighed, slumping back on the couch. "I just wish they'd leave me alone," she mumbled. "I just want to have my baby in peace."

Arthur patted her leg comfortingly. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," he said firmly. "Everything else is just background noise."

Colette nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. “They have this picture of me in their head, that’s very different from the actual person,” she said weakly. “And now they judge me for something that they don’t even know what it was, because it’s not public. They just take Russell’s word and run with it…”

Arthur's expression darkened as she vented. "I know," he said softly. "It's unfair and it sucks. But you can't let it get to you."

Colette sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know. I know.”

"You don't owe anyone anything," Arthur said firmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. Max would say the same."

Colette smiled wryly at the mention of Max. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her the same thing.

She closed her eyes, picturing Max's face in her mind. He always knew what to say to keep her grounded, to keep her from spiralling into a dark pit of despair. She missed him, more than she thought was possible.

"I just wish Maxie was here," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

[bonbonly]

https://www.tumblr.com/bonbonly/771155161152405504/im-a-sensitive-babe-but-mean-producerlewis

FOR FREE??? JUST LIKE THAT??? ur spoiling me

-🥥

🥥 ANON LET ME SPOIL YOU SOME MORE BABE WITH A FULL THOUGHT

bon's thoughts (18+)

it's the golden globes, the carpet is dazzling with stars. actor!max verstappen invited his mother as his date. director!sebastian vettel is posing in front of the cameras with his assistant directors. film critic!jenson button manages to squeeze past some cameras, a microphone in his hand as he looks around the carpet. you had called him an hour ago, telling him that you were already in talks to tarnish his credibility, to strip him from the title of famed critic. he knew they were empty threats, but it was still a threat. he couldn't afford to have you try to get him fired; it was some sort of power trip you had. to try and make it seem like you were better than him.

his eyes focus in on producer!lewis hamilton and he flags him down, waving his hand around and beckoning for him to come over. the producer raises his eyebrow, he hasn't seen jenson in a long time but he has heard that the little vixen - you - is constantly seen at this man's office. producer!lewis wonders if you ever pull the same antics with jenson as you do to him, but he shrugs his shoulders and walks over. he adjusts the rings on his fingers, a forced smile on his lips as he stands before the camera.

"mr. hamilton, how does it feel to be on the carpet tonight?" jenson asks, bringing the camera closer.

"it feels great! i love seeing the newer actors and actresses coming up in this industry, i love looking for new talent," he pauses, glancing over his shoulder as he sees a beautiful woman stride behind him. he smirks to himself, flickering his eyes back to jenson who reciprocates the expression.

"actress (y/n) (l/n) has been nominated tonight for best actress, do you think she'll win tonight?" jenson asks and lewis smiles. this is why jenson called him over, oh it all made sense!

"she's a good actress, but she's up against some tough competitors. if she's lucky enough, she'll win." lewis responds, and jenson slips out,

"luck has been a bit hesitant on her side, she always seems to be flocking to whatever crowd will entertain her." and lewis chuckles, lowly. the stories he had. his eyes go past jenson to see you arriving at the carpet, eyes bright as you wave at the cameras, blowing kisses as flash on the cameras increase. he excuses himself, heading over to you on the carpet. he has something planned, and it comes to action when he pulls you close and lets the photographers capture the both of you.

"what do you think you're doing?" you ask through your teeth as you continue to smile at the cameras.

"letting sainz know that if you win tonight, i'm taking you back home with me. i'll sign a film with you."

little does lewis know, you had just let max stuff you with his cum because his sister was going to win for another time and he wanted to apologize since he couldn't convince the critics in time to sway their opinion. you explain this to lewis once you shuffle inside the auditorium and the glare he sends you makes you laugh. right in front of him. at his face. he'd just made a fool out of himself in front of the press. now the newspapers would be linking him to you, sainz would be calling him. oh he should've known, he should've hesitated!

while the awards roll out one by one, lewis has your face against the mirror, your body awkwardly shaped as your feet barely touch the ground. the edge of the sink digs painfully into your lower stomach. your screams of ecstasy are muffled by all the chattering happening outside as lewis fucks your swollen, abused cunt. he pulls out until just his tip throbs inside you, and then slams right back in which has you crying. he wants this to be a reminder, a harsh reminder to never do something stupid like this again.

"you fucking..." he drags you off the sink and brings you down with him on the floor. your legs in the air as he brings his hand around your waist to rub fast circles on your clit as he thrusts into you. the tiled floor of the bathroom creases his well-pressed suit but he doesn't care. no, he wants your cunt to be crying with his cum until it doesn't know anything but his cock, "fucking bitch. such a fucking pain, why the fuck does sainz even keep you? you warm his cock good? or does he need another whore for his collection?"

he rolls over to have you beneath him, your face pressed against the floor as he smacks your ass. he laughs out loud, mocking your laugh earlier as he delivers another hard blow to your other cheek, loving the way it jiggles as you're sobbing, telling him someone else could walk in and see this.

"you should've fucking thought of that when i walked over to you at the carpet. should've thought about the damn cameras and the other celebs. i was stupid, so stupid!" lewis groans, gripping your waist to make sure his fingers squeeze your flesh, his fingerprints should be there for a week. there's footsteps lurking outside the stall, and as you're whimpering, lewis only goes faster. his joy knows no bounds when jenson opens the stall, a grin on his face,

"i figured she'd be here. mind if i join?"

[fast-burn]

Maxiel + 14. Sloppy seconds !!

i think this is maybe my most requested kink 😂 but you gotta give the people what they want! hope you don't mind if i add background garage gangbang into this (and also cw for drug use reference, off-screen)

kink list here

XXX

Generally Daniel tries not to live with regrets, but he's a little miffed that the whole thing with Max's mechanics began after he left Red Bull. Granted, it couldn't have started before. The concept of Max coming off his first race and his first win getting gangbanged within an inch of his life is something Daniel avoids thinking about like someone might avoid grasping a hot poker. That whole idea is just--well yeah, better not.

Still though, it's like Red Bull didn't start having real fun until Daniel was out of the picture. Not that Daniel would have joined or anything, but it would have been nice to have the invitation.

Daniel is in the hotel lobby, late, buying chamomile tea from the bar instead of room service because--he doesn't know. Better to put a couple euros on his credit card rather than charging it to the team? He's just in time to see GP and Calum walk in with Max propped up between them. They each have an arm around his curved waist. Max moves sluggishly, but he seems happy. Downright blissful. They carry him to the elevator and Daniel holds out his AmEx to tap it against the machine.

It takes maybe three minutes of Daniel being back in his own room before he's texting Max.

you good?

yes very good is Max's reply, almost immediately.

Daniel bites his lip. His mind is blank.

wanna come up and watch a movie or something? can't sleep

lol netflix and chill? Max asks, and well that's not-not what Daniel meant. He totally gets if Max is too tired for it. Hardly a big deal.

He says up to you, we can just hang if you want, and then rm 1220.

Daniel sips his tea and then goes to brush his teeth. He's rearranging his curls, trying to make them look fuller, when finally Max knocks on the door.

"Hi Daniel," he says, leaning in the doorway, eyes half-lidded, body swaying like he's drunk. He isn't drunk. He's probably taken a ton of poppers, but now he's genuinely just tired, the effects long since worn off. Daniel scoops him into the room.

Max is easy to direct to the bed, and as soon as he lays down he starts kicking off his shoes, toes prying down the heels before he flicks his ankles and nearly launches them at the goddamn TV. He smiles up at Daniel, the stretch of his mouth a shiny with a smear of lip balm and sore-looking in the corners. He makes grabby hands until Daniel crawls on top of him. Cute. The last time they did this, Max said he always wanted a breather after it all, but once he cooled down he wanted the weight of something anchoring him. Daniel isn't particularly heavy, but he's happy to provide in whatever way he can.

"I don't think I can come again," Max says, rubbing his face against Daniel's neck. His stubble is so scratchy-rough-good, dragging against the grain of Daniel's own beard, that Daniel shivers over and over. "But I'm not ready to sleep yet."

"Lucky me," says Daniel. "You wanna talk about it?"

Max makes a vague noise, but then he gives Daniel the post-gangbang report in broad strokes. They put several big packing blankets down on the garage floor, they took turns, they made sure his holes were always full, they cleaned him up when they were done. Daniel is hard when Max finally snuffles into Daniel's collar and says, "That's all, just the usual. Pretty simple stuff."

The pictures flashing through Daniel's mind aren't simple at all. It's like that guy with the painting of the staircases, tangled up in all different angles. He grinds his dick against the bed in the soft, open vee of Max's legs.

"I don't think I--" Max starts.

Daniel interrupts him. "No. No, I know."

"You would be very nice, Daniel. It's not you that is the problem."

It's twelve to fifteen guys other than me, Daniel thinks to himself, then chastises himself for being jealous. They're not a couple, and Max loves these nights. It makes him feel connected to everyone. It makes him feel so satisfied that he has to be hand-delivered back to the hotel, poured into Daniel's bed to sleep it off for eight hours.

"Can I just take a look?" He asks instead, and Max nods, twists in Daniel's arms until he's flat on his stomach.

"I won't fall asleep," Max promises.

"You can if you want. It was a big day." Daniel tugs Max's soft pants down: Red Bull-branded sweats. It was probably impossible to get him back into his tight jeans, afterwards.

The skin on Max's arse and thighs is red-hot, spanked all over, but nothing looks bruised. Daniel skims his hands across, barely touching but Max still squirms against the sensation. The mechanics clearly love Max so much. They give him exactly what he needs and nothing more, always working together like a well-oiled machine even when said machine is a train they're running on Max.

Daniel slides his thumbs between Max's cheeks, starting from his taint and un-zippering upward, spreading Max so Daniel can inspect the damage. Someone has cleaned him up, got him all sorted out. His hole is like a halved cherry, like Max's lips when he's been biting them, all puffy and used and raw. Daniel can't help but press his face into it.

Max whines lightly when Daniel licks across his hole. He tastes like antiseptic and aloe, and beneath that copper and salt and the undeniable flavour of latex. "Everybody wrapped up?" Daniel asks, almost directly into Max's arsehole.

"Yes, of course," Max says. "It would be too messy if they didn't."

And there's another thought Daniel shouldn't have: Max so full of sperm that he's leaking down his crack and across his balls, all of it mixed together into a mystery sludge, and Daniel could suck every drop out of him.

"You can come on me, though, if you want," Max offers then, and Daniel doesn't need to be told twice.

Daniel kisses up Max's spine and shoves his hand into his own pants, pulls his dick out and strips it fast. He can't be bothered for finesse, suddenly on the edge, totally desperate. "They really got you good, huh?" He asks, mouthing Max's shoulders, his neck, the shell of his ear the same colour as his slapped arse.

"Mm hm," Max murmurs, face mashed into Daniel's pillow. He's gonna pass out any moment. "It was so lovely, Daniel. I wish I could just get fucked like that all the time, but then it wouldn't be special. I can still feel them all, inside. Like they are still doing it. Here, feel," he says, and pulls Daniel's free hand back to his hole just in time for Daniel to feel it pulse and throb against the tips of his fingers, a needy little mouth. And Daniel feeds it, striping Max's back and thighs and arse with his release as he comes.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter Warmers Day 29: Somnophilia. Max/GP. About 900 words.

When Max wakes up it's still dark outside.

The time projected on the wall by GP's alarm, some old thing Max had teased him about several times, says 5:12 am, which means Max went to bed more or less four hours ago.

He would very much like to go back to sleep, but he feels restless, a gnawing pit in his gut telling him he needs something, echoed by his half-hard dick, demanding attention.

They've been so busy lately, with the end of the season first, then the team commitments, then holidays with their families, that Max doesn't really remember the last time they were able to fuck properly. All they had been managing was hurried orgasms, half bitten moans muffled by hands.

And now they're finally back in their bed, it's 5 am and Max wants.

If he was reasonable, he would go to the bathroom, take care of it, and then come back to bed. But he doesn't want to come on his own, with his own hand, and he doesn't want to get up, out of the warmth of the blankets, GP's steady breathing beside him.

Quietly, so slowly he's barely moving, not wanting to disturb GP, Max reaches for the lube in the drawer, kicking off his underwear.

He doesn't want to wake up GP. They had come home late, after GP had driven them through the holiday traffic for the whole way, and it feels better like this, the thrill of something they had only got to do a few times, the last one months ago.

He takes his time with himself, keeping his eyes closed, moving languidly under the blankets, fingers reaching inside himself in careful strokes. He almost feels half-asleep himself, thoughts syrupy slow, breathing deep, almost matching GP's.

When he gets up to three fingers, after what feels like ages, the squelch of the lube the only noise in the room, he reaches for the bedside table again, groping around for the dildo he knows is there.

He lubes it up carefully, then sighs once he gets it inside him. It's his favorite one, almost the same length and width as GP's own dick, opening him up perfectly. He doesn't want any resistance when he finally gets to the real thing.

It's easier to move the dildo than his own fingers, and he can't help the soft sounds that escape his mouth every time he brushes it against his prostate, every time it drags perfectly all the way in.

He brings himself almost to the edge, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with pleasure, his thighs trembling, his dick now fully hard slippery with precome. And then he drops the dildo on the bedside table, already knowing GP will complain about the lube being smeared everywhere, and reaches for GP.

He gets his underwear halfway off when GP stirs, groaning and shifting, making Max freeze.

"Max?" he slurs, voice still raspy with sleep.

"Hi," Max murmurs, pressing forward to place a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Go back to sleep."

GP makes a questioning sound, then another when he moves again and seems to notice his underwear, down to his calves.

"Sleep," Max says again, cutting off whatever GP was going to say.

For a moment, he thinks GP will argue with it, or will stop him, but all the other does is fully kick off his underwear, before turning back to his previous position, lying on his side, and sighing.

"Be good," he whispers, patting Max's side with a heavy hand.

Max doesn't reply, but breathes out slowly, forcing himself to ignore the way his hole is clenching around nothing, achingly empty.

He doesn't know how long it takes for GP to fall asleep again, but it feels like forever. And then he lets out a little snore, and Max smiles.

He grabs the lube again, pouring some in his hand to gently warm it up, before grabbing for GP's now naked dick.

It's mostly soft, but it doesn't matter, not when Max so desperately needs him inside.

GP groans softly as Max spreads the lube, but he doesn't move, and then Max doesn't listen anymore, because he's busy guiding his dick inside him, pressing back until his ass fits snugly against GP's hips, sighing at the feeling of being finally full.

He gives himself a second, just to enjoy the feeling, before he starts rotating his hips slowly, grinding against GP, feeling him grow harder inside him. It's heady, to be able to do this, to be able to use GP like this, to be able to take his pleasure without even waking him up.

Everything feels like molasses again, the dark room blanketed in sleep, silence broken only by Max's stuttering breaths and the sound of the lube between their bodies.

His orgasm grows slowly too, filling him with shivery warmth, until he's coming in his own hand, sparks bursting on his closed eyelids.

When his heartbeat slows down, he brings the movement of his hips to a stop, cleaning his dirty hand on the sheet (yet another thing GP will complain about).

GP is still hard inside him, and it feels good, to still be filled, pleasure tiptoeing on the verge of overstimulation.

He falls back to sleep like that, limbs heavy and satisfied, GP's chest against his back, smiling at the thought of being fucked awake, the sweetest good morning.

[brionysea]

there's a lot of talk about how mike is a bad boyfriend - which, he is. el's a bad girlfriend too. it's been going strong for 2 seasons that they're not a good match romantically. but this often breezes over how mike was the only one Doing Anything for el in california

jonathan only considered el his 'step-sister', seemed more worried about will, and was too overwhelmed to even do anything about that despite being willing to give up his college experience with nancy for joyce and will. will talked to el about 'fixing it together', but when we see el fixing her diorama, she's doing it alone. joyce didn't know el was being bullied (remember how joyce was about will in season 2? she wouldn't leave it alone when he was acting weird, and she said she'd kill his bullies), that jonathan was literally high at the dinner table (murray figured it out), or how lost will felt after moving away from hawkins (he's always like that, but joyce used to push him to open up)

el accused mike of being scared of her, but will was the one who seemed scared. mike was more shocked and mad, because he believes that breaking a girl's nose over getting a drink spilled on you is a severe and cruel overreaction. this is an intentional parallel to season 1; when el is bullied, mike says to rise above it, like he does for himself, lucas, and dustin. when will (who wasn't even present to hear what was being said about him) is bullied, mike snaps and pushes troy (probably partially to impress el, because mike wants to emulate superheroic qualities like her - meaning, for mike, standing up for what's right and not hurting people unnecessarily, which isn't how el hears it). el fits in with the rest of mike's friends, and will is set apart. max isn't here because she protects them from bullies and she'd start another argument with mike if he tried to intervene; their friendship is special too

despite this, mike was still the one pushing for them to find el at rink-o-mania. mike chased el away from the dinner table (because he's still mad, and those feelings are valid, which the show already told us about el's feelings a thousand times over), but he's also the one to go up to her room when she doesn't come down for breakfast, even though he's not eating either. neither jonathan or will went to talk to her (will was more worried about mike, and jonathan was watching over both of them, as if he doesn't have a sister now too), nor joyce the night before (who fucked off to alaska or wherever, that's how distant she is right now), even though they all saw el storm off at dinner and they're supposed to be her family. how many times has mike sat alone in his basement without anyone checking up on him?

you'd think it would be common sense that someone other than mike should talk to el about what happened (max mayfield come back your best friend misses you), but no one does. he's the only one reaching out, because if he doesn't then she'll be alone. and then his experience with bullying gets invalidated, the conversation gets twisted against him, and somehow he's the bad guy for being the only one who's actually doing something after months of no one around el taking action or so much as initiating conversation that would help to improve her situation

all because... what? mike doesn't like using the word love? that's not a moral failing. a problem if his girlfriend wants to hear it and takes it as a personal insult when he's not comfortable saying (or writing) it (because he would be lying and there are other words that are more accurate to how he feels), yes, but not evil. it's his parents' fault for being so emotionally unavailable to their children/married out of obligation that mike has no idea what love is supposed to look like, anyway. thanks to the wheelers, mike's version of love is constantly doing things for people so they can't get sick of him and cut him loose, which is why he's so distressed by the idea of nobody needing him anymore

[mothlau]

leztappen + lingerie

love ur work btw 🫶🫶

kissing you anon :* this is sort of a continuation of this because I couldn't hold myself back from max in lingerie :3 hope u like it (kink meme here)

1013 words

Charles loves Christmas; she really does. It's her favourite time of the year. Seeing the lights glimmer, seeing the snow fall, the couples walk hand in hand; the children, with their red faces and eyes full of wonder, the smell of oranges and spices, the presents.

She loves getting presents, she could be opening gifts all day long.

Max is well aware of her love for little gifts, how excited she gets when there’s a wrapped box in front of her, when Charles can just tear into the paper and reveal what’s inside. She uses Charles’ excitement to her advantage, planning all her gifts to be given to the brunette in the week leading to the 25th.

Charles loves it, opening a different box every day. A new cashmere sweater, a new set of shiny lip gloss, a silver bracelet to add to Charles’ collection; Charles’ love language may be gift receiving, but Max’s is gift giving and each year she makes sure Charles is well taken care of.

On the 25th she doesn’t wake up with a box under the tree; she doesn’t even find one from Max under maman’s tree. There’s nothing and she is starting to worry the further the day goes on. Surely, Max did not get bored of spoiling her. Surely, she didn’t get annoyed that Charles didn’t do the same for her, that she simply gave Max all her presents on the same day.

Which is why she shrikes when she sees Max on their bed. Her lovely Max, in a beautiful red piece, a redder bow around the strap poking through lace. She’s coming into the bedroom, hair damp from her shower, Max’s RB shirt on, and at first she doesn’t notice how quiet her lover is, how she’s waiting for Charles in the middle of their bed, body as red as the lingerie covering her. She only realizes something is amiss when Max makes a little annoyed huff.

Then she looks at her lover and Charles’ world stops.

How could she have thought that Max was done spoiling her? How could she ever think like that? How could she ever doubt Max?

The contrast between the red and Max’s pale skin is stark, it makes her seem even paler, skin unmarked and all for Charles to brand with her teeth. Still, she must control herself until she knows what Max has planned for them. The strap is just as red, a new addition to their collection that Charles has never tried before. It looks… it’s bigger, she’s sure of it. She can already feel the stretch, just from looking at it, words blocked in her mind, unable to push them out.

Max huffs. “You’re staring,” she says, sounding uncertain.

“Well, how could I not be?” Charles smiles at her lover, eyes focused on the bra that’s covering Max’s chest. Her tits look so heavy, and all Charles wants to do is take some of the weight off, hold them until the tension in Max’s body is gone, until she is back to her normal self.

Charles can only imagine how unfamiliar the situation is for Max, how out of it she must be feeling. But she would be lying if she were to say she’s not appreciative of the display. Charles absolutely loves worshipping Max, it’s something she honestly can’t get enough of, and seeing the blonde in her colour, marked in such a way that it is obvious who she belongs to? Their friends may always joke that Max is the one in possession of a monkey brain, but Charles swears she feels herself transform the longer she’s looking at Max.

Moving across the room, on top of the bed, to sit in front of Max comes naturally. As if there is a magnetic pull calling to her, something she cannot resist, no matter how much he were to try; not that she wanted to stay away from Max. No, she wants to be as close to the woman as possible, stay between her thighs as she pushes the blonde to lay on her back so that Charles can have her way with her.

She starts slow, with kisses and touches, teasing yet gentle. She doesn’t want to make Max uncomfortable, in case the attention gets too much. Hands start to roam across her body, mapping every curve, every mole that dots Max’s skin, each muscle that jumps under her fingers. Charles doesn’t miss on the way the blonde’s breath hitches as her thumbs circle Max’s nipples, the way in which she’s trying to keep the noises down.

She fails, groaning when Charles pulls the straps of her bra down, her free hand tugging the woman’s tits out. Charles’ mouth waters at the sight, nipples pink and slightly puffy, as if Max played with her tits before Charles got back. She doesn’t waste a single second, mouth wrapping around one of them, while her thumb and finger push and pull on the other. A sharp tug, a sharper snap of Charles’ teeth, all as Max moans and trashes underneath the brunette’s attention.

“Maxie, you are so perfect, so pretty like this,” Charles whispers against the blonde’s flushed chest, sinking her teeth in just to make the woman keen. “So pretty and all mine, aren’t you?” A hand trails down Max’s body, stopping just at the waistband of her panties. “What do you want me to do, Maxie? Want me to suck your cock?”

The whimper that escapes the woman is enough for Charles to move down the bed and settle between her thighs. She has no intention of making her beg tonight, a Christmas miracle.

Between Max’s shaking legs, face hovering above the toy, a string of saliva connecting her bottom lip to the top of the strap. It shines on the red, bright and angry as Charles stares at it.

“It’s big, Max. Do you think it’s going to fit?”

Face dark with lust, Max smirks down at her. “I’ll make it fit, princess,” she says and oh–

Fuck, Charles really loves Christmas.

[gaytrashgoblin]

Cute, Little Smile

Merry Pitchmas @ridiculously-over-obsessed!!! Little weird that we got each other Max, and we were both a little late this year??? We should be better friends, my dude. Anyhow, please enjoy this short and sweet lil bechloe fic I cooked up for ya!

Of all the things Beca has done, running seems to be the only constant in her life aside from music. Whether it be from some weird childhood trauma she hasn’t dealt with, her own emotional immaturity as a 19 year old, or what, she’s not sure, but she does know that she is phenomenal at it. I mean, just look at her- for the first time in her life she found a group of friends she felt she really connected with and the moment things got hard what did she do? Oh, right! She yelled at Jesse, who was admittedly on her side if a little misguided in his attempt to prove that, then quit the Bellas. After stewing in what was originally righteous indignation but then turned into regret, she really went for broke. Which is how she finds herself here, in her dad’s house, drinking coffee with him in his kitchen. 

“Yeah I shut everybody out, don’t take it personally, it’s just easier,” she says heavily. After a pause her father responded.

“It’s also really lonely.” With that, Beca flips through some of her memories since coming out to college. How, in the past few months, she’s felt really seen and validated in her hobbies and herself as a person. Like, maybe she doesn’t need to love movies the way everyone else does or change her appearance or be less brash or less… her to be worth someone’s time. She thinks about how movies really aren’t awful if you’re watching them with the right company who doesn’t shut you down for critiquing them. About how supportive her friends had been of her dream to produce music and how she supported her changing the setlist and how she- wait, she? Did she really bond with any of them except Chloe? Fat Amy was probably the closest to her, but that may have just been because she was just as on the fringes of Aubrey’s ideals as Beca was. 

Beca takes a few days to start looking at her time at Barden with a little more scrutiny because, really, was it just Chloe? That can’t be. She spent more time with Jesse than with Chloe! But… she did spend a lot of her time with him wishing she was with Chloe instead. Or, sometimes, even wishing he was Chloe instead. Particularly when he started throwing out those cheesy flirts and getting close to her face and… ah, shit. 

Beca walks into the practice room ready to swallow her pride. If not for herself and the fact that those girls were her friends and she would like them back, thank you very much, but for Chloe, who deserves the ICCA win. And, also, maybe some honesty, because Beca may be a newly discovered queer, but god damn if she doesn’t know it would be easy to treat Chloe better than that asshole she was dating at the start of the year. She didn’t quite know what to expect when she walked in, but it certainly wasn’t whatever the hell it was. 

Aubrey, Chloe, and Amy were wrestling, Lily was lying in a pool of vomit (extra gross, btw), and everyone else was in disarray. 

“I came to apologize,” Beca starts, holding what feels to her like prolific eye contact with Chloe. “What I did was a dick move, and I shouldn’t have left.” She sees Chloe’s eyes widen a little at that admission, which makes her feel more vulnerable than she already is, since Chloe is the only one who knows about her dad and all of that drama. She’s glad that she, or whatever happened here, convinced Aubrey to give changing the setlist a try. She’s also grateful that they are now free to leave the vomit smell of the auditorium- and leads them to the empty pool that they had the riff-off in. 

As much as she wants to have Chloe pick the song, she lets Aubrey do it, as something like an olive branch. Once more locking eyes with Chloe, Beca adds in the Neyo song, hoping beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, Chloe will get what she means and she won’t have to actually come out and say it. Because there is only so much vulnerability Beca can stand in any given time period, let alone all in one day. After they sing their mashup in the pool, she thinks Chloe might get it, based on the way she’s smiling that cute little smile she used to have for Tom-The-Shower-Guy, but nothing ever happens. Beca, admittedly, gets swept up in her new responsibility of arranging nine different girls and vocal ranges into some sort of coherent setlist with a dance, and so her newly recognized feelings kind of get put on the back burner. She had noticed though, that somewhere during the process of arranging the set, that something shifted for Chloe. Beca really couldn’t tell you what, but she decided that after the finals she would suck it up and confront her. 

After their, in Beca’s opinion, killer performance at the finals, she meets Jesse in the crowd. “I told you, he always gets the girl in the end,” he says with a smirk. Beca’s face contorts.

“Dude, what?” 

“Oh, c’mon Bec, don’t be coy. The song! You put that in for me, for us.” 

“Uh, yeah, as an apology for being a dick, not some weird love letter thing.” Jesse’s face falls, and Beca awkwardly makes her way back over to the Bellas. 

“What, no kiss for your new boy-toy?” Amy asks loudly. Again, Beca’s face contorts. 

“Uh, no. No boy-toy for me, thanks. I don’t like him like that, like, at all.” Several of the Bellas express their disbelief. Has everyone been under the impression that she liked him? Beca’s head snaps to look at Chloe, who looks equal parts confused and relieved. Knowing that they have some time while the judges score everything, Beca grabs Chloe’s hand and drags her out.

“What- where are we going?” 

“I need to talk to you,” is all the explanation Beca gives. CR looks smug as they walk out and holds a hand out to Denise, who groans and slides her the $10 they had bet on this.

“Bec- wait, what is it, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong is that apparently everyone thought I liked Jesse! I mean, how old are we that a girl can’t be friends with a guy without it meaning I somehow want to fuck him?” Beca says exasperatedly as she finally drops Chloe’s hand as they reach a mostly empty hallway. Chloe’s arms cross over her chest.

“Well, I mean, he’s the only person you really hang out with besides the Bellas. What were we supposed to think?” 

“That he’s my friend!” She says, throwing her arms up. “I’m pretty sure I said it like, really loud before that he’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Ok, so he’s not your boyfriend. It’s not a big deal, Becs. I don’t get why you’re so upset over it.” 

“I’m upset because everyone somehow thinks I like him, including the person I have actual feelings for!” That makes them both pause. Beca, because she had planned on doing this in a better way. A more private way, but here we go. 

“Oh. I guess that would be upsetting, the person you like thinking you like someone else,” Chloe says quietly, placing her hand on Beca’s arm in support. “I’ll get the girls to drop it, so that the guy you like isn’t getting the wrong idea.” 

“There- Chlo, there is no guy.” 

“But- you said that… okay. So the… girl,” she says carefully, “won’t get the wrong idea then.” 

“I just need you to not have the wrong idea,” Beca mutters with her head down. Chloe freezes. 

“Did you just-”

“It’s you, Chloe. It’s always been you, I… I get that now. It took me quitting and having a conversation with my dad of all people but I- it’s you.” Chloe tilts Beca’s head up with a single finger, smiling that soft little smile again. Finally. 

“For real? You mean that?” 

“Course I do, Beale. You make me feel… special. Like I really matter.”

“You do, Bec. You matter so much. To your dad, to the Bellas… to me.” Unable to stop herself anymore, and getting what she believes to be a green light, Beca leans in and kisses her. She’s vindicated in the fact that the movies are, once again, full of shit. There are no “fireworks” or “explosions” when she kisses Chloe. There is just… happiness. True, unfiltered happiness. And from the big grin that Chloe has when they pull back, it must be the same for her. 

“We should probably get back in there before they announce our victory,” Beca mumbles. 

“In a minute, I’m kissing my girlfriend,” Chloe responds as she leans back in with that cute little smile that, now, is reserved for Beca. 

[max-cortez]

@cheyohara

[vaguely-concerned]

just for fun this time during 'sea of blood' I counted out all the venatori corpses I think we can be pretty sure were lucanis' handiwork before we show up (not including the ones he kills in his initial cutscene, and with an assumption that he's been at work mainly up and down in the areas we move through until we find him, not behind the locked door -- I think that's mostly the work of rampaging undead and other venatori-hoisted-by-their-own-petard suchlikes). can thus happily inform you lucanis has killed at least 32 venatori before rook and company get there. at least one of them he's impaled on their own weird crystal spike things the venatori mages cast as an AOE attack and that they're trying to keep him contained with when we find him. so he's clearly been keeping busy lol. that's my boy dispensing poetic justice and claiming some enrichment in his enclosure while he's at it good for him!

[lieutenantselnia]

Yesterday I've been doing some proper physical exercise for the first time since last year and I'm just imagining how proud my f/os would be of me🥹

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... put together a roommates quiz finally after years of thinking it would be an interesting idea lol.. Though obviously not meant to be taken super seriously, I just like thinking about this aspect of personality compatibility. Like yeah, maybe you could get along with someone just chatting with them, but living together is such a different thing. .. curiouse...

[dentist-brainsurgeon]

Watching people play Pikmin is crazy, y'all live like this??? That's not very Dandori of you

[highlifeboat]

No thoughts only under appreciated OC Elizabeta

[wibble-wobbegong]

urge to make a big post about how mike doesn’t fit anywhere vs bigger urge to include it in the jtr timeline thing im working on