#tonic the cat

[umika]

THIS IS SO ADORABLE🥰

Cat feeds cat🥰

[maxverstappendaily]

Your cats, gin and tonic and eating at your mother's house, priorities 🤩

[once-and-future-loser]

I think my favorite thing about Max Verstappen is not his: three world titles, love of cats, numerous records, human decency, fantastic thighs and tits, sandy blonde hair, giant beautiful nose, or piercing blue eyes, but the fact that when he goes on vacation/holiday he wears apparel themed by his (and my) favorite non-redbull drink. The gin and tonic. Like, so wild to me that (whether he purchased those or they were gifts) he loves G&Ts so much that he wears swim trunks with them on it. It's just so endearing to me.

[sorathecookie]

Main Cookie Run OC Masterpost(2025)

Making this post as away to keep track of all my main Cookie Run OCs(I'm too lazy to make to house pages for them)

Will be updated with time

[cookiefate]

Cookiefate for August 25th:

"Any impatience you show will only create more stress."

Procrastination -- It's for your health.

[a-cool-stick]

cat owners really call there cats whatever bull shit that comes to mind

i called my cat a squishy chicken

[neoptolemvs]

i’ve known i’m not cis for a while now, but my life has been such a whirlwind of just trying to keep my head above water that my gender identity has never seemed to be that pressing of an issue- but now that i’m getting more settled i feel like i could start taking t or look into top surgery but i’ve never even talked to my therapist of many years about this because theres always been more urgent problems…i guess i’m scared that people will think it’s coming out of nowhere, and doing gender affirming things without my support systems well…support would likely kill me, so i dont know what to do

[world-healt]

Peace of Mind for My Pup: A Review of the EMF Defense Pet Pendant

In our tech-filled world, I, like many pet owners, worry about the unseen forces bombarding our furry friends. From Wi-Fi routers to smartphones, electromagnetic fields (EMFs) are everywhere. While the science on their long-term effects on pets is still developing, I wanted to take a proactive approach to my dog's well-being. That's why I decided to try the EMF Defense Pet Pendant.

Easy to Use and Comfortable for My Dog

The pendant itself is lightweight and surprisingly small, perfect for my medium-sized Beagle, Bailey. It attached easily to his collar with a secure clasp, and he didn't seem to mind it at all. In fact, I think he might even consider it a stylish accessory these days! The pendant is also made from a smooth, hypoallergenic material, so I never have to worry about it irritating his skin.

Reduced Anxiety and Improved Sleep

Bailey used to be quite the restless sleeper, often waking throughout the night and pacing around the house. Since wearing the EMF Defense Pet Pendant, I've noticed a significant improvement in his sleep patterns. He sleeps soundly through the night, which makes for a much happier (and well-rested) pup – and owner! Additionally, Bailey seems calmer overall. He used to get anxious during thunderstorms, but lately, he's been taking them in stride.

Peace of Mind for Me, a Happy and Healthy Pup

While I can't definitively say the EMF Defense Pet Pendant is the sole reason for Bailey's improvements, I'm confident it's playing a positive role in his overall well-being. Knowing he's protected from potential EMF harm gives me immense peace of mind. Plus, seeing him sleep soundly and feeling less anxious is truly heartwarming. If you're a pet owner concerned about the effects of EMFs, I highly recommend giving the EMF Defense Pet Pendant a try. It's a simple, non-invasive way to show your furry friend you care about their health and happiness.

[thunnderthighs]

Ah so that's why his stuff didn't do shit for my cats

almost worse than someone putting a single snide comment in a salient post you otherwise agree with: a post with good medical advice you know to be true where it slowly becomes clear that op also practises homeopathy or something

[vettelsvee]

THE MOMENT I KNEW | Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: After a few races where he didn't get the results he expected, Max decides to go out with some friends to disconnect from everything. Unluckily, one of those days when he arrives home after having some drinks, he finds out that he missed his girlfriend's birthday as soon as he sees the cake she ordered on the trash ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe something angsty?? Like maybe bro goes out with his friends and forgets readers bday until he sees the cake in the trash can and realizes bro screwed up

WORD COUNT: 2007

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of being drunk, angst

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: I've absolutely loved this one my God. With this fic, we mark a total of 6196 words written this week (not counting my uni essays and other several projects), so I'm quite proud about that! Also, thank you so much for the support all this week, hope you liked all the fics! I'll be uploading this upcoming week's posts tomorrow. Let me know in the comments or on the anon inbox your thoughts on this one! See you next week :) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Max stumbled into your apartment, fumbling with the keys and opening the door with trembling hands, his pounding headache reminding him that it wouldn’t be this bad if he’d listened to the bartender’s advice to stop after the last gin tonic.

As soon as he stepped inside, he froze in the doorway, scanning everything as if it were his first time entering the place, even though he had been living there for nearly five years, the last two with you. He took a few unsteady steps toward the small entryway counter, where he dropped his keys and realized the silence was far heavier than he had anticipated.

His laughter, faint and fueled by the false sense of security that alcohol had provided, quickly dissipated. Taking a cautious step further into the living room, he noticed there were no lights on, no plates or leftover food on the small coffee table in front of the TV, and most strikingly, you were neither sprawled out on the couch watching one of the romantic movies you adored nor curled up asleep with one of your cats.

Despite the glaring signs, Max didn’t panic, at least not as much as he should have, even though something inside him whispered that the situation didn’t sit right.

It wasn’t until he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water and rounded the island that his foot stumbled slightly, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor. Puzzled, he looked down to see what had caused him to trip. His heart sank when his eyes landed on a discarded box, its lid broken as if it had been thrown to the floor, angrily, on purpose.

That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

“I can’t keep waiting, Max,” you said, her voice steady despite the anguish inside. “Today, no matter how much I tried to turn a blind eye, let it go, and even put myself in your shoes… This… everything… after many tries… God, Max, all of this… That was the moment I knew.”

[michplante-patterns]

(via T-shirt classiqueundefined avec l'œuvre « Catatonic » de l'artiste Michèle Plante)

[wileys-russo]

jenni hermoso ”the only delicious thing that i’m interested in here is you” a restaurant

delicious II j.hermoso

when her name and number had popped up on your phone after all those months of radio silence, you could have sent it to voicemail, should have maybe, but as they say curiosity kills the cat.

and you were most definitely curious about just exactly why your ex was calling you at nine in the morning on a thursday, almost a year on from your break up.

so, with some level of hesitance, you picked up your phone, lifted it to your ear, and clicked accept.

"hola? jenni?"

that was a week and a half ago, and now here you were sat at one of the fanciest restaurants in all of madrid that your ex had insisted on, awaiting her arrival.

the madrileña was of course running late, at least having had the decency to give you a heads up as you'd ordered the pair of you a drink, but upon her delayed arrival you'd found yourself downing them both.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly apprehensive, your ex not giving away much on the phone call last week about the exact reasons why she was calling bar wanting to catch up while she was in town.

that had you a little on edge to say the least, pushing her for some more infomation but jenni insisting she just wanted to see you and see how things have been, doubling down that there was no ulterior motive when you pressed further.

so here you were, finishing jenni's drink and smiled at the waiter who quickly whisked the empty glasses away, nodding as you held up two fingers to signal he bring another to the table on his return.

right as he set them both down, a gin and tonic for you and a neat whisky on ice for jenni, did you catch a glimpse of her across the room, flashing the hostess a toothy white grin as you slowly raised a hand catching her attention.

as she neared the table you pushed your chair back, pushing upwards to stand and greet her properly, taking her in with a quick look up and down which judging by the smug smile that curled into her lips, she didn't miss.

"hola guapa." jenni purred charmingly, a warm kiss pressed to your cheek as you did the same, the two of you taking your seats as your ex sent you a wink of appreciation, fingers curling around the glass of whisky sat in front of her as she brought it up to her lips to take a sip.

"so chica...cómo va todo?"

"no no no, that was all your fault. mentirosa!" you laughed, downing the last mouthful of your drink with a shake of your head, your ex girlfriends smirk wide like a cheshire cat across from you as her eyes followed your every move.

"todo fue perfecto. gracias!" you thanked the waiter gratefully as he cleared the last of your plates, the pair of you having opted for a series of smaller tapas style meals, jenni teasing you'd just eat some of whatever she ordered anyway, which wasn't a total lie.

things were much more comfortable between the pair of you than you'd first expected, conversation a little stilted at first but in time it became an easier flow, almost as if you were picking up where you left off like two old friends.

though of course, you and jenni had never been just friends.

even before you officially got together, you weren't just friends, there had always been benefits, which was the main reason post breakup the pair of you had ceased contact all together.

so really, what happened after dinner shouldn't have come as much of a surprise, especially with the copious amounts of alcohol consumed by both of you with jenni in a rare block of off season.

jenni had snuck off to pay under the guise she was just going back to the bathroom, returning and offering you a hand up as you knew by the look on her face exactly what she'd done.

"eres lo peor." you clicked your tongue at her but accepting the hand up none the less, both of you repeatedly thanking the hostess for a lovely meal as you made your way out of the resteraunt.

your skin prickled beneath the heat of the air outside, a shock to the system after the cool ac of the building you'd just exited, shifting your bag on your shoulder as you both descended the steps to the cobblestones below.

you exchanged polite conversation as you walked a little ways down the street where it was quieter, jenni's hands shoved in the pockets of her pants as you discussed her upcoming preseason back in mexico.

"so, you have had a good time?" your ex asked with a grin as you paused on a corner, the taller girl leant against a telegraph pole as you made the effort not to let your gin tinted gaze sweep across the toned and tattooed nature of her flexed bare biceps.

"mm the food was good, the company was okay." you teased, batting away her hand which tried to pinch you. "you picked a very good place. that food was delicious! and it was nice to see you." you smiled, jenni humming as again you batted away her hands.

"the only delicious thing that i’m interested in here is you." your ex declared boldly, bright eyes drinking you in with the same delight and hunger they always had, her abruptness hardly surprising given you'd known her so long now.

"jenni." you warned, fighting hard not to let the smile take over your face like it so wanted to, inhibition a little hazy but not enough so to not know this was dangerous territory she was dancing in.

"cariño." the brunette spoke back in a much more teasing tone, raising an eyebrow as you snickered. "we cannot." you shook your head, pawing away her hand which played with the waistband of your pants.

"we should not, but we can." your ex corrected with a wink and you couldn't help but allow a small amused smile to flash briefly across your features, unable to hide it from the footballer which was practically a green flag to the taller girl.

"amor. i am here for one night, come back to the hotel with me, let us have some fun." jenni encouraged, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling your body swiftly into her own.

"vamos. just one night, two friends...catching up." the girl whispered in your ear with a cheshire grin, spinning the pair of you so now your back was pressed to the telegraph pole and she loomed over you.

"two friends?" you hummed, eyes fluttering closed as jenni's lips began to pepper kisses behind your ear and down the side of your neck, feeling the resistance band holding the two of you apart start to thin.

"mmm well more than friends, less than lovers." jenni teased, thumbs finding your hip bones as your own hands sought out her touch, one settling on the back of her neck and the other on her shoulder.

"just one night?" you guided her face a little closer to your own, lips ghosting yours now as the footballer nodded.

"one night together again amor. i will even call you a car in the morning to get you home safe!" jenni grinned causing you to chuckle, surging forward to find refuge in kissing her, exhaling softly at the all too familiar feeling that washed over you.

"and they say chivalry is dead."

[chuthulhu-plays]

I generally watch LPs of horror games bc I'm too anxious to actually play them but a lot of them have FANTASTIC stories, so sometimes I just binge-watch KrinxTV for background noise. Been watching a lot of playthroughs of Still Wakes The Deep because it's such a delight to hear Scottish voice actors get work and I thought I'd address some questions I keep seeing Let's Players ask:

--Adair is a member of the National Front as you can find out from posters in his cabin, a Neo-Fascist British political party that’s been going since the sixties. While it often preaches British ethnic unity, in practice that often means “everybody in the UK should be exactly like East End Londerners” and features plentiful disdain for Scottish, Irish, and Welsh folk, alongside those perceived as “not British”. No wonder the wanker eats alone in the canteen.

--Neeps and Tatties=turnips and potatoes, mashed, drenched in butter or sauce. Fills your belly, keeps you warm, probably makes you sink like a stone because it’s so heavy.

--Cranachan=a dessert made of raspberries, honey, cream and oats, absolutely delicious

--Rennick calls Caz a “wee ned prick”. Ned is apocryphally said to stand for “non-educated delinquent” and is basically just a way of calling someone an uneducated, lower-class criminal

--A lot of things said by and about Roy indicate that he’s a teetotaller who went through AA and specifically became Catholic and is making an effort at converting Caz.

--I think it’s entertaining how Scottish nicknames often follow a pattern of shortening/rejiggering that I also see a lot with Australian nicknames—Cameron becomes Caz, Rafferty becomes Raffs, etc. Trots is an unusual one but is almost certainly a reference to him being a communist, presumably a Trotskyist. Gibbo is also an unusual one in that it’s just very silly. There’s a kind of indignity implied in being killed by a guy called Gibbo.

--A few times on the radio you hear the Shipping Forecast, a type of weather report aimed at specifically reporting weather conditions out on the ocean, and is also famous for the report being read in such a calm, soothing tone that some folk use it as a sleep aid.

--All the yellow paint for interactable things is very video gamey, yes, but is also in line with old British health and safety standards, and yellow paint on things like emergency ladders or on the edges of stairs that are trip hazards is a thing ou can still see in some older buildings.

--Caz keeps saying he’s “good with the leccy”; leccy=electricity. Caz is implied to be quite a wee guy who can get through a lot of tight spaces, and my uncle swears blind that electricians used to refuse to take on apprentices over a certain size because they only wanted to train wee guys who could get up into the tight spaces that a lot of older buildings are full of. On that note, “wee man” is a term of endearment, generally, and isn’t exclusively applied to short guys.

--Finlay saying of Gibbo that “he’s no right” is INCREDIBLY OMINOUS. It sounds mild but “he’s no right, that boy” is what older folk say about a child who’s been found disembowelling cats for fun or someone they strongly suspect is a pedophile. It’s not something you’d say about a friend who’s just acting a bit unusually.

– “Great minds united over a Buckie”--Buckfast, or Buckie, is a caffienated tonic wine that’s cheap, widely accessible, and is a bit like rocket fuel for bad decisions.

– “Ya roaster” tbh I don’t really know where it comes from, calling someone a roaster, but I’ve always felt like it has a vibe of telling them they’re huffing their own farts.

--Scunnert/scunnered--buggered, screwed, utterly fucked, etc

– “You’re the jammiest bastart on this rig” Someone who is jammy is someone who has incredible luck that is implied to be related to their sheer confidence or willingness to engage in risky behaviour. Walking along the street and finding a pound coin isn’t jammy; crossing the road confident that the cars won’t hit you and stopping in the middle to pick up a pound coin before making it unscathed to the other side is jammy as all hell.

--Barlinnie is the biggest prison in Scotland, and largely hosts violent offenders—it’s where Caz would definitely go for hospitalizing a man.

--Weans are children (contraction of wee yins/wee ones). I thought this one was contextually obvious but apparently not.

SPOILERS BELOW

--”One spark and the whole thing’ll go up”—this is referring to the wee spark of flame in the lighter used to blow up the rig, but is also kind of a pun because electricians are often called sparks or sparkies, and in the end it’s Caz who blows up the rig.

[ferrstappen]

could you be more obvious? l MV1

a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood

summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.

Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.

But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.

what, like it’s a big deal?

They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.

That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.

And God, did you celebrate him.

Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.

Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.

and you knew it was time to go.

Bahrain, 2024

Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.

You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.

The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones

“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.

The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…

“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.

You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”

Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.

“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.

“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.

“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.

“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.

“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.

“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”

And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.

user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind

user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that

user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend

user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀

user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc

user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN

[lokischocolatefountain]

Not Interested | A Materialists fic

Fandom: Materialists

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2.2k words

Summary: Some people don’t want more. Hearts broken from previous relationships, you and Harry are not interested in more. But in each other…? That’s a different thing.

Tags: Meet cute, Reader is grieving, Harry got dumped, mild angst, Reader is bi and has hair, canon non-compliant since the movie isn’t even out

A/N: Finally! Pedro in a romance (SWOL scenes were shorter than I hoped). It’s late considering he has the perfect face to make literally anyone fall in love with him. I got the idea for this fic when we all breathed a collective sigh of relief knowing his name is Harry Castillo and not Randy. This is set in a world where Dakota Johnson chooses Chris Evans over Pedro.

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“Listen… Randy, right? I’m not interested in you.”

“It’s not Randy,” he said, turning around in his bar stool and looking you up and down. His tongue darted out, licking his plush bottom lip and he gave you the faintest smile. “But thanks for letting me know.”

“Shit,” you cursed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. I thought— My friend set me up with someone and I was supposed to meet him here and I thought it was you. Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he said, still not turning away from you. He looked good under the golden light of the upscale bar where your friend told you to meet Randy. ‘You’ll know him when you see him’ was her response when you asked for a picture of the guy. Dude was probably ugly or old.

“So…this Randy is so terrible you’ve already decided you aren’t interested?”

“It’s not really about Randy,” you said, climbing into the chair adjacent to his for no reason. You had no intention of picking a guy up at a bar that night, set up by a friend or not. It was a week night and you should’ve left. Your suit was uncomfortable, your hair was a mess from being under a hard hat and your shoes had traces of sand from the work site. If you weren’t a regular there, you would’ve been denied entrance. Politely.

The man raised a hand and waved a bartender over. “A drink for the lady on me.”

“Oh I can’t—”

“Can be water or a cola. For the trouble you went through to see this guy.”

“Oh well. A gin and tonic, please,” you said, knowing it was a much better choice than a glass of wine all alone in your house with your girlfriend’s cat that hated you.

“Tough day?” He asked.

“Tough week.”

“It’s Tuesday, darling.”

“I didn’t have a weekend.”

“Yet you look stunning.”

“Uh huh?” You said, studying him. “That work for you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t use the same line all the time. I work on a case by case basis.”

“Mmm. So you admit it’s a line.”

“Randy’s loss, my gain,” he said with a shrug.

He was fucking beautiful, you realized when you relaxed into your seat, your feet no longer attempting to drag you away. He had dark curls styled neatly, a greying beard that was charming despite being patchy. His eyes were a deep brown, shiny like those bobas kids had in their teas these days. The only other person with eyes like— well shit, if that dipshit cat Scooter knew you thought of it as a person, it would only lord over you even more. Scooter had similar dark eyes it used to manipulate you into doing absolutely everything.

When he turned, you caught the shape of his nose and fuck if it looked good. Big and bold with a curve that made him look like a statue unearthed from the ruins of Ancient Rome. A good place to sit if you were looking for one.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you accepted the gin and tonic with a quiet thanks.

“What are you hoping to gain, exactly?”

“Nothing you don’t want to give,” he said, his eyes darting down to your lips. You gripped the glass tight in your hands. It had been a while since you were around such attention. Well. There were some but none you bothered registering as attention.

“I’m good just seeing your pretty face until we finish our drinks and never see each other again.”

Simple enough. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but you appreciated the honesty. “To never seeing each other again?” You said, raising your glass.

“To never seeing each other again,” he said, raising his.

“So… why are you here drinking alone? At least I have an excuse.”

“You’re not drinking alone,” he said. “You’re drinking with me. And your excuse is that you came to a bar to reject a guy you can’t even find?”

“It’s rude to stand someone up. I have manners. And clearly, Randy doesn’t. And what kind of name is Randy anyway,” you huffed, taking a sip of your drink. Here you were as agreed upon despite being tired and wanting to do nothing but drink enough to fall asleep so you could work tomorrow. But fucking Randy was nowhere to be seen.

You knew everyone at the bar. It was the exclusive sort, entry restricted to people in a certain tax bracket— those who made enough to be taxed little to nothing. No one you could meet there would be interesting outside of work. It was the sort of place you went to for networking, not for fucking. Or romance. Not that you were looking for it. Something Gemma really wanted for you when she set you up.

“You’ve only talked to me since you arrived. Randy could be anyone here.”

“Oh, I know this place,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “And I know everyone here. Black shirt there holds enough shares in Blackrock to be guillotined for the impending housing crisis. Bald guy flirting with that poor girl in the corner has a trad wife content creator who funds his failing businesses.”

“She looks young enough to be his daughter.”

“He’s not that old. Just unbelievably ugly.”

He snorted, “What about the old guy in the leather jacket?”

“He owns the building so he comes over all the time. Tried to hit on me and my girlfriend poorly once. And he’s old enough to actually to be my father.”

He asked you about others at the bar and you briefed him. At some point, you bought him a drink. Whiskey, neat. Same as what he had in hand when you very rudely mistook him for your date.

“And that’s why you were so sure I was Randy? Because you know everyone else here.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Take the debriefing as making up for my rudeness.”

“I would, but you haven’t told me about everyone in this bar.”

You scrunched up your nose at that, looking around the bar to see if you’d missed anyone.

“Who? I’ve told you about everyone here except the staff.”

“You haven’t told me about the beautiful woman in the navy suit,” he said, nodding to you. You should roll your eyes. Be rude or refuse to tell him about yourself. But your behind remained glued to the seat.

“I run a construction business. What about you, stranger?”

“Real Estate. Maybe we could do business together.”

“Yeah? Is this how you find people to do business with?”

“Not very sustainable to only find business with women who reject me.”

“Are you always this cocky?”

“Oh always, but especially when a woman rejects me before introducing herself.”

“I was rejecting Randy.”

He whispered your nickname, a name only your friends and family used. You hadn’t told him that. Hadn’t introduced yourself at all. He smiled apologetically, his big brown eyes in full force to endear you further to him.

“It’s Harry, by the way. Harry Castillo. Gemma calls me Randy because of an unfortunate incident in Intro to Project Management.”

“You lied to me!”

“And you were very rude. What a way to introduce yourself to someone,” he said with a shrug.

“I did say it’s not about Randy— you. I was in a long term relationship until recently and I’m just not looking for anything serious now.”

“I’m not either. I’m fresh out of a serious relationship and I came here only because Gemma insisted.”

“She’s allergic to staying out of people’s business.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffed and the two of you shared a laugh.

You sighed, eyes darting all over his face. And elsewhere. He was built well. Tall enough, broad chest narrowing into a V at his waist. Arms that didn’t seem to be for vanity’s sake. He looked strong, not like a man getting a personal trainer and steroids for his mid life crisis. His hands were fucking huge. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was holding a small glass. His fingers were thick and fuck it’d been so long and your vibrator was good but you missed a warm body against yours.

“So… what did a woman do to fumble you?” You asked.

“Cheated on me with a bartender ex who still has roommates.”

“Shit, that’d do it.”

“He turned out to be the love of her life, so…” he shrugged, his sad smile tugging at your heart. “How did you fumble yours?”

“Ouch. You think I fucked up?”

“Yeah. I don’t see anyone fumbling you,” he said, his thumb brushing his mustache as he gazed at

you appreciatively. “I mean, look at you.” He touched his bottom lip with his thumb and nodded towards you. From anyone else, the gesture would’ve felt sleazy. You shuddered under his eyes, a part of you glad that you could still feel things like this but another part feeling guilty. Like you were cheating.

“She fumbled me, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah? What did she do?”

You shrugged, a sad smile finding its way to your lips. “I proposed and she went and got cancer about it. I would’ve just accepted a no, like jeez what a drama queen.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low but not laced with the icky sympathy that made you angry and uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. Time has passed since she…” you trailed, clearing your throat and looking away. It felt strange talking about her to someone who never knew her. Strange to be talking to someone in a situation you wouldn’t have been if only she was still there.

“So that makes it two women I know who rejected you,” you said, needing to say something to clear the air of the dead girlfriend conversation. The more it lingered, the more uncomfortable it made people.

“Still only one, same as you. You rejected Randy, not me.”

“You are Randy!”

“You were having fun with me until you realized I’m Gemma’s friend. And what kind of name is Randy anyway,” he said, repeating your own words back to you.

You wanted to know what how he earned the name. Randy. You wanted to coax him into telling you his little secrets. See if he was just as interesting inside as he was outside. “Gemma isn’t such a terrible friend after all. Maybe we should listen to her.”

“That line often work for you?” You asked.

“Yeah, I tell pretty women we should fuck because my friend said so. Works out great.”

You laughed, but looked down at your lap, guilty you laughed so easily for someone who wasn’t her.

If Gemma trusted him… It was a safe option. One night and never see him again.

You leaned towards him and ran your hand up his arm from elbow to bicep. You stopped and gave him a squeeze, biting back a whimper when you felt how firm he was. You tilted your head a little and regarded him carefully, your voice low and sultry when you said, “I think we should fuck, Harry. My friend said we should.”

“Line works when you say it,” he said, bridging the distance between you. He looked into your eyes and then your lips and back at your eyes, a silent request for permission. Fueled by your two gins and tonic, you moved to kiss him.

Harry was a gentleman but was no prude. He kissed slowly but without hesitation, soft lips firm against yours. His mustache poked and tickled, a novel sensation not wholly bad. You allowed yourself to cup his cheek, your thumb drawing patterns into skin. A patch of skin without hair found you and you traced its shape as you relished in the taste of whiskey on his lips. It was different from kissing women, kissing her. It’d been so long since you kissed a man and you found you didn’t hate it. A large hand came up to your knee, caressing gently, and you gasped softly. For your part, you slid one hand over his arm, the other busying itself with the back of his neck.

You wanted to be closer, sit on his lap and press yourself against his chest. Soon, your hand made its way down his neck, landing on his chest. He moaned into the kiss as you explored him, all broad and hard muscle beneath his sweater that contradicted him with its softness. A tingle ran through your body when he touched a sensitive spot in the back of your neck. A whimper escaped you despite yourself and he seemed to have caught on. His thumb went over the spot slowly, repeatedly, and you gasped softly from the feeling. You pulled away, the first to need air. He smelled good, you realized when you remembered to breathe.

His eyes were studying you, really looking in a way that was too much. Too deep. You looked away, your heart beats hammering away in your ears.

Too much. Too much. Too much. But you resisted the urge to up and run.

She wouldn’t want you drinking yourself to sleep every night. Told you as much herself. Asked you to promise you’d try.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly and the space between them scrunched up, showing off lines of his age but also making those brown eyes more lethal.

“Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you drive here?”

When he nodded, you said, “I’m going home now. You can follow me. No staying the night. Just…drive off when we’re done. Is that okay with you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

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Pedro Pascal character fics masterlist here

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[inkedinshadows]

Azriel headcanons

Since I'm working on too many fics and not finishing even one, here's a list of random headcanons I have about our favorite shadowsinger. Seriously, they're very random.

I have so many more, but I didn't want this to be too long lol. Let me know if I should write more of them.

If it weren't for his scars that make it impossible for him (it'd probably be really uncomfortable), Azriel would wear rings. And I mean a lot of them, on both hands. Very slutty of him if you ask me. This is how I imagine it to look like:

And necklaces as well. Like silver little chains and similar.

Azriel is 100% a cat person. I don't think I need to say more, we can all agree on this, right?

The shadowsinger can sing, we all know that. But my current obsession is him playing the piano. He probably learned while healing his hands when he was a child because it helped with coordination. He's really good at it, but he doesn't play in front of people. Only for you. (I wrote a fic about this: Play It For Me)

He has a very neat handwriting. Again, he had to practice a lot after his hands were burned to use them properly again. I picture something like this:

He's the kind of "monster" that eats pizza with a knife and fork instead of just cutting slices and using his hands (I'm Italian, I'm allowed to say this). He would also always stick to the same pizza, never changing the topping too much (relatable). He'd probably keep it simple, with mozzarella, black olives, and maybe anchovies if he feels extra.

Since we're talking food, if you are out on a date or just eating at a restaurant or whatever and you order something you end up not liking, he's swapping your dishes and giving you his. If you do like it but you also like his a lot, then he asks you if you want to share and eat half of each.

He's not a cocktail guy. Here as well, he likes to keep it simple: whiskey, brandy, wine if he's eating, and beer if he's hanging out with Cassian. If he does drink a cocktail, his go-to choices are Black Russian, gin and tonic, Old Fashioned, Manhattan, and Negroni (which might be an Italian cocktail, I'm not sure).

Oh, and he loves coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Mostly espresso, but also full mugs of it, especially in the morning.

Azriel loves turtleneck sweaters. Leather jackets are another favorite. When he's out, he mostly wears black or dark jeans, but at home? Sweatpants. Those infamous grey sweatpants we all love. Again, very slutty. He bought them without thinking too much about it, but once he saw your reaction to him wearing them, they became his favorite piece of clothing out of everything he had ever owned.

On the topic of clothing, we know he mostly wears black, but we also know he loves Winter Solstice. He could be easily convinced to wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters, especially if you bat your eyelashes at him. He can never say no when you give him doe eyes. He'll complain about it, but he secretly loves it, even more so if you're wearing a matching one. The first three are nice and simple and cute, the other two if you want to embarrass him a little (but he still wouldn't say no):

Same goes for Halloween. Couple costumes? He's down. Would he admit he likes it? Probably not. Would he refuse to do it until you're begging him to, just so he can see your cute pout? Absolutely. And of course, he lets you do his make-up.

He smokes. Not much, just 2/3 cigarettes throughout the day, but it can be more if he's stressed or nervous. (Just imagine the hand in the first picture with a cigarette, it's just the perfect position already. I don't smoke and I can't even stand the smell, but I would honestly let Azriel blow the smoke in my face fr)

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate