#what do we do when our prayers are answered but the answer is no?

[call-sign-jinx]

Dave Lizewski - Limerence

summary - when you and dave are paired up for an english project, he asks you a question which makes you squirm

warnings - possible stalking? idk sorry, basic fluff,

Main Masterlist Dave Lizewski Masterlist

a/n - hiya gyals, i have been trying to find more than just 3 decent dave fanfics so i jus decided to write my own, ta ta my lovelies! xx

dave lizewski x fem!reader

Limerence. Noun. Meaning: the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterised by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship.

This is the feeling I get when I think of Dave Lizewski. Nobody in school cares about him at all. They don't even look at him. Which I'm glad about because that means I get him all to myself. But he never looks at me. God I just want him to look at me, notice me, speak to me, something. But i get nothing.

It still baffles me how no one has tried to ask him out before. He is absolutely beautiful. In fact, ineffable. His brown curls frame his face amazingly. His blue eyes I could look into all day. And god his voice, it could lull me to sleep effortlessly. And his humour, he makes me silently laugh every time I overhear him say something at lunch to his friends.

My friends think I'm weird for thinking he's attractive. They call him a nerd and a weirdo because he reads comic books at that little cafe every day. But that's because they don't see what I see. And it's because they don't look at him as much as I do.

I have almost every class with him, because I found out which classes he chose and switched to them. And those lessons that I needed to get higher grades for, I studied as hard as I could so that I'd be able to move to Dave's classes. My friends call me a stalker but I just want to be closer to him.

Me and my friends are sitting at our usual table which I chose because it was right behind the table Dave usually sits at. My friends never noticed, not caring about anything other than their lunch and the conversations they're having. I never listen, I just look at Dave's features and try to hear what he's talking about. I see his friend turn around to look at me then says something to Dave.

Dave then leans to the side to look at me and I immediately hide my face with a book and blush so furiously you'd mistake me for a tomato. That was fucking embarrassing, I'd been staring that long his friend pointed it out to him. Fuck.

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I was in AP English, one of the classes I had to get my grades up for. I sat a seat to the left from Dave. I don't know what Ms. Somerset was talking about because all I was doing was doodling and trying to catch glances at Dave, while trying not to be obvious at the same time. But my ears perked up when I heard about a project we'd be doing in pairs. I prayed to God or whoever is up there that I'd be paired with Dave.

"Okay, I'm going to list the people that are going to be in pairs together. First, Holly you're with George. Grace with Vanessa. Zach with Jake. Y/N with Dave..." The teachers voice faded away as soon as I heard. My prayers had been answered. Thank you God!

I turned my head to look at Dave and he was already looking at me, we both smiled at each other then turned back towards the teacher.

"The project is going to be a presentation about the analysis of any piece of literature you want to do. Do it however you want it just needs to be a PowerPoint slideshow. Now everyone go sit with your partner and begin planning your presentations." Everyone got up and joined their partner and Dave came over and sat next to me.

"I never knew you were in AP English Y/N..." He felt a bit embarrassed after admitting that. A blush creeped up onto my face, well that's a bit embarrassing.

"I changed to this class about 5 months ago, I just never talk because none of my friends are in this class." I gave him a shy smile as Ms. Somerset handed us some coloured pens and a piece of paper to make a plan.

"You're in my Chem, Bio and Physics as well now that I think about it. And my History, Computer Science and Design Tech. You're in all my classes and I never noticed you before. Except at lunch or breaks, or when we walk home the same way. Don't you live a couple blocks from me?" Fuck... What if he connects the dots? And if he does what if he thinks I'm a freak?

"I wouldn't know, sorry." I gave him an awkward laugh and looked down to the paper.

"So what piece of literature should we choose? We could do something by Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Fitzgerald, Mark Twain?" It shocked me that Dave knew all those writers, mainly because all I've seen or heard about him reading was comic books.

"I say we do Emma by Jane Austen. I've read it a hundred times and I've already analysed it anyway so we just have to put it onto the presentation." Dave agreed and we planned out our presentation for the rest of the class.

When the bell rang, I gathered all my things and exited the classroom to go home. When I was a few steps out of the classroom, I heard someone call my name. It was Dave.

"I-I thought you could have my number, so that we can arrange to meet at each other's houses to work on the project. O-or we could work on it at the library. Whatever y-you're comfortable with." My heart could practically explode. Not only was he giving me his number, he was also possibly inviting over to his house!

"Yeah that'd be great." I gave him a bright smile. "We could go back to my house now? So that we can get the project over and done with, I hate having things that aren't finished yet."

"R-right now?" His cheeks flush a light pink. His eyes dart from my eyes to everything else around us.

"Yeah, you don't have to come over if you don't want to I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Fuck, I already feel like I'm screwing it up with him.

"N-no it's fine, I just didn't think you'd want me there. But yeah, let's go now." Inside, I was practically exploding. I have never felt such happiness until now. I fucking love Ms. Somerset!

We began walking out the school when my friends saw me walking with Dave. I saw them whispering and giggling to each other.

"Hey Y/N! What are you doing with him?" I felt anger run through me, why the fuck are they taking the piss out of him?

"We have a project we need to do so he's coming over to my house after school." I fake smiled at them and as soon as I turned away from them I had a disgusted look on my face. "Sorry about them Dave."

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As we came into my house, my dad immediately came into the hall and gave me a hug. He then turned to Dave and sized him up. I could see Dave squirming so I broke the silence.

"Dad, this is Dave. We're doing a project together in English." My dad narrowed his eyes at Dave and then his eyes widened with realisation and went to shake Dave's hand.

"So you're the Dave my princess talks about all the time!" I wanted the ground to swallow me whole and get the hell away from here. I've never wanted to be thrown into space in my whole entire life.

Dave looked at me in confusion and saw my uncomfortable demeanor.

"Right we're going upstairs, love you." I then dragged myself upstairs, Dave following close behind me and I led him to my room.

I sat myself at my desk and watched Dave as he looked around my room. I had vinyl records stuck to the wall along with different posters and tapestries. Fairy lights lined the frame of my bed. I also had a little table with a record player and a shelf specifically for my favourite records.

"Your room is really nice Y/N. I like your posters and lights." I looked around my room, I never actually took notice of it in all honesty.

"Thank you. I decorated it myself, I even designed the layout of my room when my dad helped build this place." Dave looked fascinated. I don't even know why.

"That's so cool, you got to choose how your room was shaped ad everything?" It was cute how he was so excited about something as little as room design.

"Yeah, plus my room is the biggest in the house. My dad let me have it cause he said he's barely going to be in his anyways cause he's working all the time. Surprised he's actually home right now." Dave smiled at me and looked around my room before we silently began our project.

I couldn't believe that Dave fucking Lizewski was in my room! I've liked him ever since I first saw him when I moved here in Sophomore year. As he was doing his work, I couldn't help but stare. He was so beautiful. The way his curls fell on his face, the way he slightly stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating on reading something. I was so lost in staring at him I didn't even realise that he was calling my name.

"Y/N!" I shook my head to get myself out of the trance I was in, he caught me fucking staring. Great.

"Yeah?" He smiled as he shook his head at me, not in a misdemeaning way though, in a "I find it kinda cute" way.

"What exactly are we analysing from Emma?" I went to sit down next to him on my bed and read what he was reading.

"I think we should analyse how Jane Austen represents class types within all the characters and how they act towards each other." I then looked to Dave who was already looking at me.

"Your eyes are really pretty..." Why the fuck did I just say that? Out of everything to come out of my mouth that is what I say? Dave's face turns a bright shade of red.

"Th-thank you, I really like your hair..." I had purple streaks in my hair. My dad screamed at me when he saw, but he then found them actually pretty.

"Thank you, when I first dyed it my dad went ballistic. Eventually he warmed up to them." Dave smiled at me, in a way I couldn't decipher.

"Do you like me?... Y/N?" Those words make my heart stop. Fuck. He's realised. He probably found out about me switching classes just to be with him, me staring at him all the time, my friends call it an obsession.

"Where did that come from?" I chuckle, trying to play it off.

"I've heard your friends talk about it, Todd told me today that you were staring at me. So I thought I'd ask you." This was actually quite bold of him, he always just stuck to either being quiet or just talking quietly with Todd and Marty.

"You find me weird don't you?" I leaned away from him, I didn't want him to look at me. Before right now, that was all I had hoped for and now it's the last thing I want.

"No, not at all actually. I find it cute. At first I was worried you wanted to kill me or something but when I saw your face light up when Ms. Somerset paired us up I had a feeling it wasn't because you wanted to kill me." Dave chuckled slightly, he smiled with only one side of his mouth and he looked so cute doing it.

"I thought I could actually hide it, guess I can't. I do like you Dave, and I know you have a crush on Katie so it's fine we can just pretend this never-" Dave cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. At first I was completely shocked but then I kissed him back. Oh my god I'm kissing Dave Lizewski!

I cupped his cheeks and pulled him on top of me and his hand found place on my waist. He didn't kiss me roughly like a couple guys have done before. He was gentle, more caring than lustful.

We both then pulled away and Dave had a big goofy smile, he was adorable.

"I don't like Katie, I mean I used to. But that was until I started seeing you sit next to our table at lunch and see you walk down the hallways with your friends..." A billion fireworks were going off in my head. I have never been happier.

"W-would you wanna go out on a date with me?" Oh my god, he wants to go out on a date with me!

"I would love to." I had a massive grin on my face. My dreams had come true.

[moonstruck-poet]

Survive pt. 2

Pairing - Carlos Sainz x wife!reader

Summary - Because of your job as a crime officer, a particularly dangerous mission has both you and your husband on the edge.

Warnings - blood, kidnapping, violence, torture, crying.

The drive to the target site was spent in nothing but silence. Your team of four settled in a car, all geared up with bulletproof vests, guns in your holsters and minds racing continuously.

Everybody's heart had a different rhythm to the other. Yours, quite surprisingly had a steady thump, Jess had started tapping her foot again which indicated to her irregular breathing, while the other two boys seemed as if they were going through all the seven stages of grief at once.

Nobody batted an eye when the driver informed them that they'll reach their destination in about five minutes. All just wordlessly pulling out their phones to give their loved ones a final text before departing.

You pulled out Carlos' contact, your fingers doing a little dance as you contemplated on what to write.

Hello love, will start work soon enough, thought of letting you know.

Te quiero mucho, mi vida. Síempre. Y te prometo que te veré pronto, amor <3

You exhaled deeply before pocketing your phone and looking at your teammates who were still messaging their family and you felt a tug at your heart. You clenched your jaw, internally making a promise to bring every one of these three people back home.

"Ready?" You questioned once the car had halted at the decided place, a quick scan of the area was done before you opened the door, waiting for them.

"Always boss," Chris, the baby of the group gave you a lopsided smile, ruffling his hair and stretching out his arms quickly.

"In we go then guys," you finally muttered, sending a quick prayer to the deity above to watch over them, to let your plan be a success.

As was decided, Elijah and you split from the rest, walking side by side and taking the back entrance to the creepy old hotel while they entered from the front side.

There was absolutely no security which was weird considering that there were atleast twenty boys and girls trapped and held captive. The pair of you moved smoothly onto stage 2, entering the first floor without so much of a disturbance.

"Was this supposed to be this easy?" The Brit whispered, eyes still alert as he held the gun tightly.

"Definitely not," you answered back, feeling some unease crawling up your throat. Suddenly you were grabbed and pulled into a corner, your eyes widening to see Elijah put a finger on his lips and point down the hallway where a door had just opened.

The two of you listened in rapt silence as a burly man stepped out, adorned in lavish jewelleries which confirmed his identity of the leader behind this illegal racket.

He was walking away, blabbering to someone on his phone angrily and you jumped as the door slammed shut from the inside.

Waiting for a few seconds, Elijah let out a breath, stepping away slightly. "Well our intel wasn't wrong then".

You nodded, Jess' voice suddenly interrupted in your ear piece that they had completed the first three stages which were getting in safely, climbing all the way up and locating the rooms where the children were kept.

"Copy that, good job," you muttered, glad that this was falling into place.

"Where should we start first then?" He asked. "Jess and Chris have got the front wing covered. We should probably start evacuation from here itself before moving up".

"I agree, I've also let Stephen know that stage 2 is in motion. He has dispatched the evac forces already".

Saying so, the two of you jogged towards one of the doors, praying with all your might that your information is correct to the dot, you swiped the master key card and it clicked open.

Barely breathing you pushed it with one hand, Elijah covering you from behind while also keeping an eye on the hallway. The door creaked loudly as it slowly swung open, revealing two girls and three boys, all of whom looked to be about nine years of age.

"Jesus," Elijah whispered at the sight of those terrified souls who immediately cowered upon seeing the pistols pointed. Their hands out in front of them, shielding their body as best as they could.

"Please don't be scared," you said, lowering down the gun and trying to give them a smile. "We're- we're from the police, we're gonna get you out of here," you leaned down, hoping to console them.

"We're here to help, buddy," he did a better job at smiling warmly, gently extending his hand forward, waiting for them to trust him. "I promise that you're going home soon".

"Home?" A girl with jet black hair and gorgeous green eyes stuttered. Her build was the smallest out of all, knees pressed against her chest as she shivered and your heart chipped a little.

"Yes, love. I promise," you nodded eagerly, sitting on your toes now. "I need you all to quietly follow Elijah here, he's going to get you downstairs and out. Can you all do that for me?"

"Yes!" They immediately replied, a few grins seen on their previously detached faces making both of you feel hopeful.

"Be safe, Eli," you murmured, ushering them out gently and not letting them out of sight for a second.

He could only nod, his throat tight as he had one arm around the tiny children while the other held onto his gun, ready to kill absolutely anyone that dared to harm a hair on their heads.

You did your job of escorting them to the staircase and amidst your run to the second floor you heard your security department say that the first batch had been rescued without a hitch.

That gave you a small boost of confidence as you began opening yet another door, knowing that there would be at the very least two girls in there. A small smile was already present on your face as you swiped the card and pushed it slightly, only to have it slip from your grip.

The room was empty, there was not one child to be seen. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thoroughly scanned every inch, how on earth could the intel possibly be wrong? The intelligence sector had been rigorously watching every move from the cctv cameras that had been infiltrated. How could their information be wrong when they were monitoring everything that happened-

Unless, you stilled in place, not being able to move as the worst possibility came floating in your brain. Unless you were being made to see these things, because somehow they knew about the intrusion.

The sudden creak of the door had the hair on your arm standing up as you turned swiftly, your heart in your throat at seeing no one there. You didn't waste another minute before getting out of the room and hiding yourself in a safe space to communicate with your team.

"Jess? Status?"

Her response came after about twenty seconds, until which your hands had started sweating as you pondered over the situation.

"Have successfully evacuated three, one boy and two girls. So that makes a total of eight out of twenty".

"Okay, good good, that's good," you repeated, trying to convince yourself. That's when Elijah appeared, breaking you out of your trance and you sighed in relief on seeing him unharmed.

"Oh thank goodness," you got up, still keeping your eyes trained on the hallway. "I think something's wrong, Elijah".

His neck snapped towards you, "What happened?" You recounted the incident to him and he pressed his lips together. "Maybe- maybe it was a mistake on our part," he said, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Both of you knew there was actually no way that such a mistake could happen, but neither was willing to voice out the fears.

"Let's just- let's just look into the others," you said, and after his agreement the two of you sped across, almost reaching the intended door when a scream which suspiciously sounded like a little girl's was heard, loud and haunting.

You halted immediately, looking at each other for a brief second before rushing towards the source, praying with all your might for the situation to not be overly difficult.

"Wait!" You grabbed his arm, forcing him to slow down.

"What?!" He answered, panting slightly.

"We can't go down together, Elijah! There can be a slight possibility that they were expecting us and we're just walking into a trap! You need to keep on searching for the rest, maybe take help from Jess and Chris and atleast bring them to safety".

He considered your statement but appeared unconvinced, "How can I just let you go there all by yourself! You know full well that it's not safe!"

"It's okay," you said hurriedly, realising that you're probably losing time. "I'll be fine just go and gather the rest, and hurry up. I have a very bad feeling about this".

"Please stay safe," he squeezed your hand before rushing up the stairs, giving you a final nod before you two parted ways.

Similarly you rushed towards the scream, not trying to be reckless as you navigated safely through the lobby, both of your hands gripping your gun.

Just as you were going to step out from your hiding spot, you heard Chris' small shout in your ear, a yell from Jess followed quickly and your heart filled with dread with each step you took.

Just as you put a foot outside, your gun was knocked out from your hands and you were slammed down on the floor. A loud groan escaped your lips as you looked at a man smirking, standing above you.

"You people think you're always smarter than us? But we're always a step ahead," he hissed before pulling his leg back and kicking your side. You doubled over in pain before spotting the knife in his hand and barely managing to roll away from his downwards strike.

You got up, stumbling a little as he walked closer. You stayed, waiting until the last second before grabbing his arm and spinning him around while simultaneously hooking your leg around his and dropping him to the floor. Your knee pressed against his back as you twisted his arms, earning a satisfactory scream tear from his lungs. His hands were being turned harshly and a clean crack was heard, signalling the breaking of his wrist.

Swiftly you grabbed the gun lying nearby and shot him on the back of his head, twice just to be sure. You barely had time to take a proper breath before another man had grabbed your waist, his grip tightening as you struggled, finding your footing and ensuring a swift back kick on his shins while your head hit him hard on his nose.

You winced as he was forced to distance himself, your hand rubbing the back of your skull as you noticed the gun in his hand.

"Fuck," was all you could utter as he shot, aiming for your chest and you swerved away, gasping as the bullet buried itself in the sleeve of your arm. Luckily for you, the bulletproof vest was of the best quality.

"Surrender," he growled in anger, clearly not expecting a woman to fight so much.

"You wish," you panted, palms resting on your knees but your eyes were trained on him. Suddenly you rushed forward, knocking the gun out of his hand but he had somehow anticipated it, almost waiting for you to make the first move.

He grinned in triumph after taking hold of your arms and then pressing your back against his chest, the cold metal of the pistol now touching your temporal bone.

You fell silent, hands rising up instinctively as you tried to conserve your energy. Having been in this situation before, you didn't necessarily feel scared, but your heart pumped rapidly, providing you with excess blood as you tried to find a way out.

"Boss?" Chris' voice was heard in your ear and you gulped, not daring to answer as there was a possibility of them not knowing exactly how many members accompanied you.

The next was Elijah, he kept on chanting your name and you heard his panic increase with every repetition. You were merely glad to know that they were alive.

The man holding you had clearly underestimated your strength because he lowered his gun, though maintained a tight around your neck. His other hand fumbled to search for a walkie talkie perhaps, and that was exactly the moment you were waiting for. You grasped the single arm still kept around you and pushed with all of your force, moving it away from your body and swinging him around, releasing at the right time and as expected his body went flying in the wall. The gun was out of your holster and another two bullets were fired successively.

He died within no time, the shots having penetrated his heart twice. But you did not utter a word as you looked at your surroundings, your hands shaking slightly but your feet moved on their own accord, unlocking door after door in search of more kids.

On opening the last one you found a girl, possibly seven years of age sitting on the floor, trembling terribly and you knew she must've heard the devastating sound of gunshots.

"Please don't be afraid," you whispered. And for some reason your throat started burning with an intensity that you had never felt before. Your lower lip wobbled as your emotions went haywire, but you, a master of your training took a deep breath and restricted them cleanly.

"I'm here to take you home," you tried again, cautiously inching closer to the terrified child. Your slightly bloody appearance didn't make your task much easier too.

"You'll take me back to my mummy and daddy?" Tears had started flowing down her pale cheeks as she watched you, a tiny glimmer of hope in her deep brown eyes, and for the second time in just a matter of two hours, an invisible knife chipped off another small piece from your heart.

Hearing her voice brought another thought to your mind, that

"I will," you nodded desperately, swallowing down the huge lump as you opened your arms for her, watching her hesitate for a second before she lunged forward, throwing her fragile body into the security of your arms as she sobbed, her small shoulders moving as she cried and cried.

"Shush darling," you whispered, your voice sounding broken. "I'm going to get you away, you're gonna be home in no time".

"You- You promise?" She stammered, pulling away and looking straight at you. Innocence met responsibility and you wiped her stained face.

"I promise, Anna," you noticed her name on the bracelet and the smile that instantly lit up her face brought a new wave of sadness inside you. This time she embraced you with giddiness, a small laugh escaping her.

You quickly clasped her hand tightly in yours, shielding her body properly and navigating safely to the stairway. You backed off into a corner, giving a long look around before bringing a hand to your earpiece.

"Sophie? Come in".

Her voice responded not even a second later and you rapidly fired instructions, understanding that there was no way you could drop her off yourself, the risk being too high.

You felt a sudden grip on your thigh and looked down to see Anna burying her face in your stomach, fear lighting up inside her as she listened to your conversation.

You placed a warm hand on her shoulder and she looked up, "Where am I going?"

"You're going home, love. I promised you did I not? One of my friends is coming soon, and she'll take you back".

"But what about you?"

"I cannot come with you, darling. You know that there are other children too right?" You questioned gently and she nodded. "I have to help them too".

"But- But what if the bad people find me and lock me up again? I'm scared," her eyes had glossed over and you both turned to see a woman climbing up the stairs, making her quickly hide behind you, her arms hugging your legs.

"Soph," you walked slowly, keeping a hand on her shoulders and smiling slightly at your right hand. She was decked in clothes similar to yours, standing with slight confidence and a strong figure.

"Be very careful, no harm is to come towards her, at any cost," you ordered clearly and she nodded, shrugging off her serious exterior to a warm look as she beckoned Anna closer.

"Run along, love, there's your ride home," you ushered her towards Sophie and the child obeyed, though unwilling to leave you.

"Will I ever see you again?" She whispered, a tremble in her words as she faced you expectantly.

"I'll try my best to," you all but sighed, feeling your heart clench.

"Thank you," the little girl mumbled, fiddling with her fingers and shooting you a small smile before she was taken down the stairs and you watched, pressing your lips together, staying rooted for a minute before dragging your focus back to another pressing issue.

You began opening doors after doors, your hands quivering yet your feet being quite stable, moving on their own accord. There was no one to be seen on the entire floor and you came to a halt, panting slightly as you checked in with your team.

"Elijah?" You inquired, your heartbeat increasing again because it had been a long time since you had heard from any one of them.

"Oh hey I'm alive," came his slightly strained voice.

"What's wrong?" You shot back immediately, your foot tapping against the floor as anxiety started settling deep in your chest.

"Nothing just an incident. We ran into some unwelcome guests and unfortunately one of them jabbed a knife in my bicep".

"Jesus Elijah," you swore, massaging your temple. "What about the others?"

"They're all fine, a couple of bruises here and there but all breathing. How are you, boss?"

"I-" you trailed off, the words not coming your aid as you contemplating on how to describe. "I'm fine don't worry. Got another girl to safety".

"Oh yeah we got five boys down too. We scanned the entire front wing, there's nothing here that hasn't been taken care of. Let's head down to the basement just to be sure".

"Yeah I'll be there in five-"

You were cut off by a loud bang made by a rifle and you jumped, pressing yourself against a wall and ducking behind a corner.

"What was that?" Elijah asked urgently, clearly having heard the sound.

"Slight delay in plans, you go ahead and I'll make sure to join".

"Not so soon," the muscular guy spoke through gritted teeth, his hands handling the gun as he started taunting you. "Come out you pathetic woman. Imagine having the guts to infiltrate a building only to be left all alone to die".

"Cannot relate I suppose," a new voice spoke and you felt dread rising in your lungs. There was no way that you could handle these armed men right now. Well you could but the aftermath would be bad.

"You cannot escape now," one of them laughed sinisterly, a malicious smirk on his face as you stepped out from your spot, arms once again raised in surrender.

"Look at you," he spoke, throwing the rifle to his friend and walked closer. "Shame that I have orders to kill an exquisite beauty," he said, chuckling and casually on the way to place his hands on your waist but you snapped, holding both arms and twisting them directly behind, making the said person groan loudly and you heard the unmistakable click of the rifle being loaded.

"It's okay Jer," he grinned, massaging his shoulders as you once again displayed no harm. "A feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You simply glared harshly, your stance radiating power a startling contrast to your palms raised parallel to your head.

"Ooh the beauty is married too huh?" The other man, Jer gestured towards the ring adorning your finger.

"Oh? Who's the lucky guy... missus?"

Rather abruptly, Jer had locked your arms and pressed you against him, making sure to block any leg movements too. "This is gonna make it all the more fun," he sighed before inhaling deeply, nuzzling his nose in your neck as you wordlessly struggled.

The second man who had been watching the interaction stepped inches away from you, his eyes raking your figure up and down, his expression the epitome of sin. He licked his lips slightly and a strange shiver travelled down your spine, a foreign fear began creeping up.

He leaned closer, on the verge of brushing his lips on your own but you threw your head forward, hitting him squarely on his nose and almost succeeding in breaking it.

"You fucking bitch-" was the only warning you had before he removed a blade, not even thinking twice as he made a strike on your neck.

A small yell was heard as you felt the blood slowly oozing down. It wasn't a deep cut by any means, but it was long as hell. The motherfucker had made sure to inflict maximum pain.

He then sliced the sleeve of your vest, effectively cutting past the shirt underneath and digging into your skin. This time you didn't even hiss, biting your tongue and focusing on breathing properly.

Your eyes were closed for a mere few seconds, but that was all it took for him to go find a fucking iron rod from god knows where. You looked at him warily, not bothering to say anything because you knew it was inevitable.

And how right you were.

The first blow came and landed on your legs, knocking you off your feet as you dropped down, grabbing your calf and curling into a ball, your face the definition of pain. You falling down was apparently what he wanted because he began hitting you like a madman. The second hit was aimed at your back, another one on your stomach, the next one on the quadricep muscles as you groaned with every shot.

The pain strangely didn't last long probably because you were extremely high on adrenaline.

And as if literally beating you to death wasn't enough, he opened the room behind and your focus was diverted, pulse racing as he held a young boy hostage, pressing the blade against his jugular.

"Don't touch him," you rasped, your face contorting in pain as Jer made a cut on your body, this time beneath your neck, right atop your clavicle.

"Then you better give us what we want, sweetheart," he threatened, not sparing the shaking boy any amount of pity.

You looked at the boy, his eyes wide as tears kept streaming down his cheeks. Your heart ached with his every struggle and you looked wildly at his captor, almost burning holes with your stare.

"We're right behind you, cap," Chris' voice was soft in your ears and you almost cried in relief. God bless their impeccable timing.

What happened next was a literal blur of events. Your teammates had gloriously interrupted the capture and you used the distraction caused to haul the trapped boy in your arms, stepping backward to safety as you caught the gun thrown towards you. But the others had easily managed to overpower the two men and the criminals laid dead at your feet.

"Jesus Christ, love," Jess spoke and cupped your face, helping you sit straighter as she looked at your shirt being smeared in blood. The number of bruises which she guessed had definitely started turning black and blue.

"Oh god are you alright?" Elijah hurried over and knelt down in front of you, gently moving your legs to keep them straight.

"I'm fine you lot," you said heavily, resting your head back against the wall as you breathed. "You don't look much better yourselves".

They just shrugged, having got over their bodies stained with dried blood, some scratches here and there, bruises littering their skin. Chris even had a bullet half wedged in his arm that had thankfully not run deep.

The boy sitting beside you had his face buried in your arm the entire time, holding your hand as if it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Hey buddy," Elijah whispered softly and all of you turned towards him, watching as he cautiously lifted his head to look at everyone.

"Hi," he replied, shortly.

"Are you hurt?" Chris asked, taking out the first aid kid from his backpack and applying some cream on a small bruise on the side of his head.

"You sure we're done?" You asked Jess, a wave of exertion falling over you as you struggled to stand up straight, Elijah immediately leaning forward to your rescue.

"Yep, our tech team confirmed it. We also found a hidden camera, one that hadn't been infiltrated by us. That's probably how they knew our whereabouts so quickly".

You nodded, wincing as you stood on your feet. Feeling a little proud as you looked at your team having managed to go through hell and still be alive and breathing.

"Thank you," you smiled softly, "All of you".

"Thank you cap'n," Chris grinned, embracing you in his special bear hug and you complied, feeling only comfort as pain became secondary.

"Let's go then?" Elijah questioned carrying the young boy in his arms, his lips twitching slightly too and you agreed.

====================================

"Oh god," was all Stephen could utter when you sauntered into your building, all four of you bloody, with your own unique bruises here and there.

"Hey there," Chris smirked and the rest followed, earning a disbelieving shaking of head from your dear boss.

"I- You know what just let's get you all patched up," he muttered, fussing over everyone like a father as the medical team rushed in.

"We're okay," Elijah smiled, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the various bruises to which he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Fine my foot," he grumbled, assisting the nurses in any way that he could.

"What matters though is that the mission was accomplished," Jess interjected with a huge grin as though her shin did not just have a massive injury that was currently getting cleaned.

"Anything you'd like to add?" He huffed, turning towards you which quickly faded as he saw your pale face. "Hey what's wrong?"

At his address everyone sharply turned their necks towards you, their smiles falling on seeing your eyes becoming hazy.

"She's just lost a lot of blood," the nurses informed. "The cuts though not being deep were too many in number, thus resulting in dizziness. Don't worry, sir, she'll be completely fine".

"You're not getting rid of me that soon, Cap," your low voice was heard, slightly croaky in nature.

"I wouldn't have it the other way, kid," he answered, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. "I can't thank you enough".

You chuckled a little, swallowing through your extremely dry throat and opening your eyes, "It wasn't me alone. I would've died had it not been for those three".

"Stop," Elijah cut you off, clenching his jaw at the thought of you dying. He had idolised you, looked up to you since his trainee days. "Don't say that".

"You know it's the truth, Eli".

He shook his head, "What matters is that we're all here, alive".

"God I'm so relieved," Chris let out a shaky breath and was hugged by Jess who nodded sympathetically, holding the cross around her neck in reverence.

"I can't wait to get back home," she murmured, sighing as her wounds had been bandaged up.

Home. The word was enough to snap your eyes open. Home. You wanted to go home.. right now.

You looked down at your bruised body and saw that most of the wounds had been taken care of, you downed some painkillers given and immediately swung to your feet, ignoring the slight wave of dizziness.

"Woah there soldier, easy now," Stephen said, worry etched on his face.

"I need to call my husband-" you started, trying to control your once again racing heart. "Please- I- Can I call him?"

"Hey," he said, a strange look on his face as he looked at you. "Of course you can, but you need to calm yourself down first yeah? Breathe with me now".

You followed his actions, inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. Soon enough you were back to normal again and you slumped down in the chair, holding your head in your hands.

"Give your body time to heal," Jess frowned, walking over to run your shoulders as you heaved deeply and gulped before nodding.

"I'll just talk to him quickly, we'll- then we'll go through the remaining procedures," you couldn't forget your duty in the face of emotions. That wasn't what you had trained for.

"Take all the time you need," he reassured. "All of you please, go on have a chat".

You didn't need to be told twice as you walked to your cabin, sitting in the chair and pulling out your phone after a total of 8 hours. It had been utterly and completely exhausting.

You dialled his number, holding your breath and your foot began tapping against the floor. It rang, once, twice, thrice and-

"Oh darling," came your husband's voice, soft and just how you remembered. And it didn't take much for your eyes to well up with tears again as you closed them, keeping them at bay. Just focusing your entire being on his voice, because a few hours earlier, you weren't so sure that you'd be able to hear him again.

"Carlos," you whispered, your lip wobbling dangerously as you spoke. "I'm here- I'm back here we succeeded".

"Well done, my love," you could hear his voice shaking too. "I'm so so proud of you- and I just-" he cut himself off and your nose scrunched up as you gritted your teeth.

"Come back home, amor," he urged you, gripping his phone tightly as his very soul longed to simply hold his wife, his other half again.

"I will," you nodded frantically though you knew he couldn't see it. "I've only got some last minute things to do I promise I'll be home as quickly as I can".

"Te estoy esperando, cariño..."

"Yo también, mi vida... Pronto estaré allí, te quiero".

You hung up the phone with a shaky smile, holding the screen close to your chest. The photo for his contact tugging at your heartstring as you gingerly got up, now feeling the ache of every blow made on you but you still walked.

"Let's get this done with," you addressed the team who were already present. "And get back home to our family".

====================================

I swear I didn't plan for this part to get so big, I was gonna end it here itself but then it would've extended quite a lot so part 3 now??

Again thank you so much for reading<33 My requests are of course open.

[wearecrowley]

[eddis-not-eeddis]

One of the most beautiful things about being a Christian is the fact that I can take my sorrows, my worries, my pain, my joys, my desires, my hope--all of it!--directly to God. And he cares about it. Even when it's small and personal, and even when it's so big I can't deal with it myself. I can take all of it to him, and I know he will take care of it.

[millionsknives]

genuinely these panels are going to make me ugly cry

[mx-monster]

Thinking horny thoughts about Minotaurs so here’s a lazy Drabble

Cw: m/f, breeding kink

Male!minotaur god of agricultural x Female!human offering

your villages crops are failing. If it continues there won’t be enough to store for winter. In the face of a grueling winter and the real possibility of starvation, the villagers turn to the god of agriculture. They choose you as the offering. They lathering you in sweet smelling oils and dress you in the finest scarlet dress the village possesses. Gold necklaces are clasped around your neck, silver bracelets slipped onto your wrists. A crown of wildflowers rested on your brow.

You’re paraded through the village while neighbors, family, and friends gather on the streets chanting prayers and singing hymns to catch the God’s attention.

You’re left standing alone in a barren field One of the many your village had tried and failed to cultivate. The light of the full moon bathing you in its silvery light.

It doesn’t take long before He’s towering over you. He was magnificent.

“Do you know what this ritual entails?”

What do you say to a God? How do you say it? So you don’t answer. At least, not with words. Without looking away from the God before you, you lower yourself to the ground. Dress pooled around your waist, you spread your thighs and bear your sex to His hungry eyes.

He spends hours between your legs. Alternating between opening you up on his thick fingers and dragging his large, hot tongue along the seam of your cunt. He pushes you to the edge of ecstasy, only to reel you back in.

Your thighs are slick with the proof of your need. You feel wetness steadily leak from your cunt onto your ass. He slides his hips in between your thighs, the blunt head of his cock teasing your slick entrance.

“You’re ready. Know that if we do this I will spill inside. My seed will take and you will become pregnant. Do you understand?”

You nod. God, you understood. You wanted it more than you wanted anything else.

“Say it.”

“I want it, please. I-I need it. I need it so bad,” you sobbed, frustrated tears streaming down your cheeks. He had spent so long teasing you, you’d absolutely die without release. You nearly screamed in relief when He began slowly fucking into you. He was so thick. Even with all the preparation you felt every inch of Him splitting you open.

“Such a greedy cunt you have,” He grunted, “taking me so well. Begging for my cock so prettily. I’ll give it to you. Give you anything. Everything.”

It doesn’t take long before you felt an orgasm rip it’s way through you. Your vision blacks out as a wrecked scream tore from your throat. You felt his cock pulse, spilling hot seed into your starved cunt.

When you finally came back to your body you noticed that the once barren field was now filled with healthy vegetation.

“Your village will one day be the capital of a mighty and prosperous kingdom. Our children’s children will sit at it’s head and one day pass their crown to the heads of their children. But that is a conversation for later,” he pulled you close, enveloping you in a strong embrace, “now, we rest.”

[sharlsworld]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ walk him like a dog - 𝐋𝐍𝟒 𖤓

（ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ）𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀

🝮

yn posted a story

replies

landonorris cmon love 💔

charles_leclerc replied to your story

Just let him have this one

lilymhe replied to your story

the hand placement??? 👁️👁️

↳ yn you don’t wanna know how many times i tried to move it

hearts4lando replied to your story

this is so cute

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story

I want what you and lando have

↳ yn don’t even 😭

georgerussell63 replied to your story

Lando texted and said “bro she hasn’t moved my hand in a 3 minutes you think that means something??” 🤦‍♀️

carlossainz55 replied to your story

JUST DATE ALREADY PLEASE

alex_albon replied to your story

i know puppy love still exists because lando exists

🝮

landonorris posted a story

replies

maxfewtrell replied to your story

you’re like her little puppy dog

↳ landonorris idc as long as im hers

yn replied to your story

stop this madness

↳ landonorris you know you like it baby

francisca.cgomes replied to your story

absolutely down bad

↳ landonorris always for her

charles_leclerc replied to your story

No photo credit?

↳ landonorris no you kept call me her little bitch the whole time…

↳ charles_leclerc Did I lie?

🝮

f1wags

liked by landonorris and 383,072 others

f1wags Lando Norris and Yn were see getting cozy on the beach earlier today, what do we think about this? 👀

estiebestie NOT LANDO LIKING THIS 💀💀

yn NO NO NO LET ME TELL ME SOMETHING

⤷ landonorris do tell

⤷ yn ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE I SWEAR

hoeforsainzzz UHM HIS HAND HELLO?

lovely.leclerc friends definitely don’t get that touchy with each other 🫣

⤷ landowantrizz and they definitely don’t look at each other that 🤨

landolovesyn this is the norm for them 😭

beloved.hamilton Stop that’s so cute 🥹

sharls_lerklerk shes the nonchalant, wears the pants in the relationship, in between black swan & white swan, knows she can get whatever she wants out of him gf and he’s the chalant, will do whatever she says, puppy dog, putty in her hand with one look, can never say no, baby girl bf

⤷ yn no 👎🏽🚫🙅🚮

🝮

daniel3.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1 and 925,082 others

daniel3.jpg to feed your soul

landonorris my girl

⤷ yn no stop

yn delete this now

⤷ landonorris cmon baby you know you want me as bad as i want you

⤷ hearts4lando HELLO? lando norris is the standard

lilymhe what’s that thing doing with me kika and alex’s girl??

⤷ francisca.cgomes little lando thinks he can bag our girl 🤣🤣

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux he just doesn’t know when to quit

⤷ yn i know where home is 😘

⤷ charles_leclerc hello??

⤷ alex_albon i can’t do this anymore.

⤷ pierregasly tell me about it

charlesismyman69 HAND PLACEMENT IS EVERYTHINGGGG 🫦

estiebestie 1 AND 3???? LANDO NORRIS YOU SLUT

landolovesyn they act like a couple but yn is playing SO HARD to get 😭

⤷ daniel3.jpg he’s playing the long game

ethereal.yn i’m patiently waiting for lando to just hard launch one of these days (im going insane i can’t wait any longer)

⤷ landonorris same

🝮

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55 and 5,924,173 others

landonorris my girl, my girl, my girl ♥️ this one goes out to all you bitches that doubted me, that said i could never get someone as beautiful as yn, that told me to move on, that said i could never get her, to everyone who ever called me lando norizz i hope you bitches are weeping right now.

yn damn

⤷ landonorris you know your blushing right now don’t even

♥︎ by yn

danielricciardo Bro got the girl

⤷ oscarpiastri After 4 years

⤷ carlossainz 4 years of yappin about her

hearts4lando ik lando already bought that ring 😭

⤷ lando.norizz he’s probably had it for a few years now let’s be honest

estiebestie LANDO NORRIS YOU DOWNBAD SLUT

pierregasly getting freaky on the main?

⤷ landonorris always

landolovesyn MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED 🙏🏽🙏🏽

sharls_leclercussy just fell to my knees in the middle of walmart

⤷ landonorris same

littlelandonorris lando norris the man that you are

landowantsrizz the second picture HELLOOO? 😭

⤷ lilac.leclerc the second picture? WHAT ABOUT THE FIRST PICTURE???

sharls_lerklerk i’ve been here since they first met at silverstone 😭

🝮

yn

liked by zendaya and 18,024,795 others

yn my little bitch, forever & always babygirl ♥️

landonorris it’s like your life goal is to make me look like a fan

⤷ yn are you not my little bitch?

⤷ landonorris i’m whatever you want me to be baby

⤷ yn that’s what i thought

lilymhe 🐕🐕🐕

francisca.cgomes can’t believe this man child took my woman

⤷ landonorris I WON

alexandrasaimtmleux So cute…I guess

landonorris damn girl why your feet so sexy 🫦😘🥜🤤🍆🍑

carlossainz55 I thought you two getting together would mean he would finally shut up about you…I thought wrong.

⤷ oscarpiastri You think you have it bad?

ynissocutiepatootie y/n heard “walk em like a dog” once and took it to another level

hoeforsainzzz lando norris is the definition of dedication

landocanrockmyworld i love how she makes him look so tall 😭

ynownsme y/n y/l/n you will always be famous 😭

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Alastor x fem! reader

Background: (Y/N) is the elder Morningstar, and wants to fix her relationship with her dad. But her dad hates her boyfriend.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 - Finale

Allusions to sex, actual sex, angel being angel, and cannibalism

_____

Angel spit out his drink, "You're with Alastor?!"

"Yeah, thoughts?"

"And prayers, girl," Angel could never imagine a sweet girl like (Y/N) getting it on with the Radio Demon himself.

But everyone has their kinks, he supposed.

Alastor manifested behind her, and she immediately felt his presence. Pressing herself against him, he leaned into her warmth and kept his arms around her shoulders.

"How was your day, mon amour?"

"It'll be even better," She trailed off, turning around to face him, "when we meet my dad for dinner."

Silence.

And not even radio silence.

"Not to be rash, but I'm sure your father would sooner see my head on a pike than on my body," Alastor adored the fact that she was mending their bond, even more so when Lucifer makes the effort.

But announcing their relationship to him?

He could see it ending in flames.

"I know you two don't get along, but I thought a nice dinner might smooth things over."

"And if he disapproves of us?" He lifted her head upwards with his finger, bemused as to what her answer may be.

"Then he'll have to get used to it," (Y/N) replied, sending a shiver of excitement up his spine.

Only a feeling that the she-devil he was utterly obsessed with could provide.

"Ugh, can you guys go fuck somewhere else?" Angel said, "or at all? I can't imagine going a lifetime without dick."

Alastors eye twitch, "now that's our business, isn't it?"

"Okay, okay," Charlie spoke up, "you guys go get ready."

Charlie couldn't help but notice the change in Alastor. It had only been a few months, but being in her sisters presence alone has made him kind. Sure, the both of them would skin someone alive over an insult, but Alastor would rip out his own eyes if (Y/N) asked.

A perfect match.

(Y/N) dawned a black dress with a pearl necklace that Alastor bought for her. Well, she thinks he bought it but he actually stole it off of a fresh kill.

How sweet.

"Pumpkin! Oh look at you! You're as radiant as ever!" Lucifer fawned over his daughter as they made it to the restaurant, making it a point to ignore the red demon behind her.

"Catching strays?" Lucifer gestured to him.

"Lovely to see you again," Alastor retorted.

"Dad, why don't we go inside? And Alastor will be joining us," now, Lucifer didn't forget what he said. He recognized that the fearsome deer demon had the intention of claiming Princess (Y/N) as his own, but did his daughter return such feelings?

Honestly, Lucifer feared that.

Not it being Alastor persay, but his little girls being hurt.

He knew how awful it felt to go through the divorce with Lilith, and then her disappearance.

He didn't ever want his daughters to feel that way.

"So, Alastor, what do you do again?"

"I have a radio broadcast. Your daughter has actually helped me repair the studio after the attack," He laid his land on hers.

And Lucifer picked up Alastors hand.

And placed it away from hers.

"Uh, dad-"

"Look, if you two are fucking, don't tell me."

"Dad!" Her face burned red, "we aren't-that's not. . .I love Alastor, and he loves me. I want you to accept us both."

"Love? Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pumpkin, I don't think-"

"I'm not a little kid," She interrupted, "I'm a grown woman, and I'm able to make my own decisions. I want to be with Alastor because I love him. You may not think I know what love is, but I know it's what I feel with Alastor."

That's when he saw it.

That look.

Whilst (Y/N) was defending herself, defending their love, Alastor looked at her. Only her. And it was like he was staring at the nebula itself, seeing all its beauty in the Heir of Hell. His smile faltered, closing his mouth, and his eyes softened.

It's the same look that he used to give Lilith.

"If I ever hear that you've made her cry, or even laid a single hand upon her," Lucifer stared him down, "I'll make you disappear."

"A man true to his word. Looks like we have something in common," Alastor agreed, his hand back on hers. She gave him a smile, one that reminded him of Lilith.

The rest of dinner went off without any incidents. The small jab here and there, but no one died, and no one was stabbed. Lucifer learned more about his daughters business and how she lit up talking about it.

"You hardly ate, Alastor. Is something wrong?" (Y/N) asked when her father went to the restroom.

"Oh no, my dear. Just hungry for something else, is all," His eyes raked up her form, earning a cough from the she-devil.

Honestly, she didn't know where he was on his spectrum. She was fine never even being intimate, so long as he was happy, but this spark in his eyes lit a fire within her.

"O-oh. . .are you sure?" Believe it or not, (Y/N) had only had sex twice and both times she'd call it lackluster.

"I don't want you to force yourself if you don't want to," oh how innocent she was. Honestly, Alastor assumed he was aroace before he met the she-devil. Her ferocity - her chaos in fights, her genuine kindness, and her soul - itself brought out that spark.

There are moments where the carnal desire needs to be satisfied.

"Mon cher, I'd never ask if I didn't mean it."

That look, it made her softly gasp.

"Alast-"

"Ew."

Right.

Lucifer.

He showed up from his restroom break and found the pair giving eachother "fuck me" eyes.

"Could I eat my dinner without you groping my child?" Lucifer hissed, despite Alastor only touching her hand.

He blinked, thinking how he's never even groped a woman.

"Maybe."

Sick bastard.

_ _ _ ☆ _ _ _

"Fuck! Alastor!"

(Y/N) had never cum before, so Alastor being her first to ever do so and smiling away at her quivering legs made it so much better.

"Oh fuck. . ." She moaned weakly, his tongue slithering in and out of her to lick up every last drop.

"Al. . ." She was breathless, staring at his strained member. Reaching up to unzip his pants, he tutted as he grabbed her wrist.

"Al?"

"It's about you. Don't worry about me, amour," He purred, kissing the bite marks on her thighs.

"But you-"

Before she could detest further, wishing to satisfy him, the door opened.

"Oh my God, they were right! Alastor, you sly dog," Angel Dust was at the door, and Alastor quickly covered his beloveds' body with the covers before his horns started to grow and his back stretched.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Not before you make love to me, you're not," still in his demonic form, (Y/N) blew a gust of wind to slam the door shut.

Her body displayed on the bed, Alastor agreed.

"And stay in that form. It suits you."

[esoteric-goblin]

on worldbuilding, and what people think is going on

there is one facet of fantasy worldbuilding that is, to me, the most interesting and essential but i don't see it come up in worldbuilding guides or writing prompts or anything, and that is the question of:

what do the inhabitants of your world believe about how the world works, and how are they wrong? a lot of fantasy media will set up their cosmology, gods, magic systems, planar systems, concepts of the afterlife, &c., and proceed as though the inhabitants of the world know and understand them.

from someone whose entire academic career is focused on studying human culture in various regions and time periods, with a focus on belief systems (religion, occultism, mythology, folklore): that sort of worldbuilding is unrealistic and missing out on so much fun.

people are always seeking new understanding about how the world works, and they are mostly wrong. how many models of the solar system were proposed before we reached our current one? look at the long, turbulent history of medicine and our various bizarre models for understanding the human body and how to fix it. so many religions and occult/magical traditions arise from people disagreeing with or adapting various models of the world based on new ideas, methods, technologies. many of them are wrong, but all of them are interesting and reflect a lot about the culture, beliefs, values, and fears of the people creating/practising them.

there is so much more to the story of what people believe about the world than just what is true.

to be clear: i think it's fine and important for the author to have a coherent explanation for where magic comes from or who the gods are, so they can maintain consistency in their story. but they should also be asking what people in the world (especially different people, in different regions/nations and different times) think is happening when they do magic, or say a prayer, or practise medicine, or grieve their dead. it is a rich vein for conflict between individuals and nations alike when two models of the world disagree. it is fascinating how different magic systems might develop according to different underlying beliefs.

personally, i think it is the most fun to spawn many diverse models of the world, but give none of them the 'right' answer.

(bonus points if you also have a thriving academic system in the world with its own theory, research, and discourse between factions! as an academic, it is very fun to imagine fictional academic debate over the topics i'm worldbuilding. sometimes i will be working out details for some underlying mechanic of the world and start imagining the papers being written by scholars researching it)

[cherry-leclerc]

star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by this !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick. 

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth. 

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head. 

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend. 

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples. 

“September 4, 2022.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas��

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away. 

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry. 

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you. 

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

-

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

-

“She really said that?” 

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty. 

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain. 

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.” 

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

-

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

-

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does. 

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup. 

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?” 

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

 The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

-

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

-

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest. 

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same. 

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down. 

“R-right—her.”

-

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

-

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.” 

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

-

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites. 

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches. 

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose. 

-

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

-

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair. 

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter. 

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. 

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago. 

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled. 

“Are those your panties?”

-

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—” 

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring. 

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.” 

-

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him. 

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm. 

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?” 

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince. 

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

-

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful. 

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter. 

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her. 

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes. 

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” 

-

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder. 

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker. 

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt. 

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.” 

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

-

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment. 

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.” 

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves. 

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too. 

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

-

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look. 

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively. 

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment. 

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

-

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

-

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance. 

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

-

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

 “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.” 

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

-

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

-

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles. 

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all. 

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

-

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces. 

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.” 

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

-

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

-

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.” 

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?” 

“Maybe, but who cares?” 

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more. 

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms. 

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily. 

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.” 

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh. 

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

-

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside. 

 “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

 “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time. 

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out. 

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

-

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brows drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder. 

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.” 

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth. 

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back. 

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.” 

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along. 

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Story #2

I remember asking my mom once, if her dad had gotten ornerier as he'd gotten old. I'd heard about that happening, and it would've made sense for him. He was already the orneriest old cuss I'd ever met. Couldn't even imagine him being grumpier than he was.

Instead of answering the question directly, she told me about what it was like going to church with him as a kid. Their church was a small Mormon ward out in the sticks of Colorado, and he served as their Bishop - mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to do that much unpaid work. He was also the ward pianist. He actually liked playing piano, and he liked having an audience, so it was more or less understood that he was willing to be the bishop in exchange for being the pianist. 

Which could've been a good trade, but there were a few problems.

The first problem was that Grandpa Dale played every song at about triple speed. He was a deeply impatient person, and that extended to how he played music. The second problem was that he had a bad habit of cursing under his breath. That would've been a scandalous  enough habit for a Mormon bishop, but was made much worse (and also much funnier)  by him being pretty damn deaf. So what he thought of as "quiet" cursing under his breath was more of just a verse hoarse way of yelling. I only visited him for a week or two every summer, and I still learned most of my bad words from him. 

So every Sunday would start with a quiet prayer, and then Bishop Grandpa Dale would go to the piano, sit down, and play the nightcore version of Praise to the Man. He would occasionally play other hymns, but he really, really liked that one. This would continue until he hit a wrong note, which was basically inevitable because his music philosophy was that if he could play a song flawlessly, it was time to play it faster. So he'd play until he hit that wrong note, at which point he would scream-whisper SHIIIIIT and, because he did not actually read music so much as memorize it, the only way he'd be able to get his rhythm back was by going back to the start. 

If it was a good Sunday, he could get it in two tries. Some Sundays took as many as five. 

I learned two things about Grandpa Dale from this story. The first was that he could play piano. I'd never actually seen him do that before. Still haven't, come to think of it. Second was that the man that I visited once a year, who always seemed on the verge of exploding, who scared the absolute dickens out of me, was actually the chilled out version of the man my mom grew up with.

And it helped knowing that, actually. I'm actually a pretty anxious person, and my mom is, also, a pretty anxious person, and as a teenager we'd sometimes get in these doom loops where we'd wind each other up until our springs cracked. She'd be worried about me growing up to be happy, and I'd be worried about letting her down, and my worrying would make me unhappy, and my unhappiness would make her unhappy, and we'd just kind of dissolve into these anxieties like cotton candy in the sea and become totally unbearable to be around for a bit. Then my dad would sit us both down and very politely tell us that we were being crazy. He had this quote how being sad that someone else is sad that you're sad is the emotional equivalent of being a Klein flask and that at some point you have to just say I am allowed one (1) single layer of emotional recursion, at most, and ideally zero. 

And it was always kind of embarrassing and silly, but when I was tempted to be more upset with my mom about it, I could remember the piano story and go: Sheesh. She has more of a right to be anxious that I do. For me it's really just genetics, but she grew up with the Cactus-Killing Gopher-Smasher. A whole 18 years of that. I spent two weeks every summer with that guy, and I love him, but I always came home feeling like I'd survived something. She's a trooper.

[wileys-russo]

Hello writer , hope you are doing well

Missing my little star pollito , so a prompt for her pollito with mapi / barca team in team bonding night at mapi and ingrid apartment "move, you're on my side of the couch."

part of the pollito universe and also a little collab with @woso-dreamzzz OC 'mignon' because i got a few asks for it! my side II barça femeni

you perked up as alexia parked in mapi and ingrid's complex, but before you could even touch the door handle you heard the locks click and groaned, collapsing back into your seat.

"now you two-" alexia began an infamous lecture, your french counterpart sat in the front seat after winning the fight for it even though she fought dirty and hid your phone so she could sneak out to the car first.

"-will be on our very best behaviour, we promise." mignon piped up with a charming smile, alexia glancing backward to look at you and narrowing her eyes at the near identical look on your face as you nodded your enthusastic agreement.

"we ran all of our energy out at training capi." you paused to fake an overly dramatic yawn, stretching your arms backward and exhaling making mignon snicker and alexia hum through pursed lips.

"pollito did anyway after all those extra laps." the girl smirked as your smile dropped and you leaned forward to try and smack her, alexia catching your wrist easily in her hand with a fierce glare.

"this is what i mean! pareja de idiotas." alexia warned as you pulled your wrist away, sneakily using your other hand to dart through the small gap between the door and the chair to pinch your best friends hips as she jolted as if shocked by lightning.

"pollito!" alexia sighed, rubbing her face with her hands as you sheltered your body from the two arms flailing about trying to grab at you.

"oye why do you not stop her! first she is allowed to live by herself and i am not, and now she can hit me but i cannot hit her?" you accused, hissing as the french girl landed a sharp smack on your shin and cursing at her in spanish.

"we are not having this argument again. out! both of you." alexia raised her voice as the pair of you started to bicker, the locks clicking once more as the two of you practically fell out of the car and alexia mumbled a prayer under her breath, locking up and hurrying after the two of you into the building.

she could finally exhale as ingrid answered the door and the two of you shot inside and made a beeline for the other younger girls on the team, the monthly team game night already in full swing as you three were the last to arrive it would seem.

ingrid gave her captain a knowing smile as she welcomed her inside with a hug, closing the door as alexia made her way around with greetings, as she always did as such a natural leader, wanting all of the newer players to feel welcome.

you and mignon on the other hand hadn't bothered, you tackling vicky into a hug which had rapidly turned into the two of you rolling about on the floor wrestling and mignon chattering away to jana.

mapi stood up and let out a piercing whistle which had everyone paying attention and some grumbling with hands over their ears, the zaragozana grinning happily at the mixed reaction she received.

announcing everyone was going to eat before any games started mapi barely finished speaking before everyone was already charging toward the kitchen where ingrid and frido had started dishing up.

not having eaten anything since training you were near ravenous, having chosen to take a well needed nap as soon as you got home, not even making it all the way to bed as you passed out on the couch and woke up to olga telling alexia off for over working you.

to be fair, you'd earned the extra laps she pushed you to do after training, you and mapi having tied everyones boots together when you arrived early before everyone else after mapi took you out for a coffee as the pair of you did every friday.

however your good food fueled mood halted as you arrived back to the couch and found mignon sat in your spot, which she clearly knew given the grin she gave you as your eyes narrowed.

"move, you're on my side of the couch." you warned firmly, cata oohing from where she sat on mignons other side as the french woman shook her head. "no, snooze you lose." she parroted as you pulled a face.

"who taught you that!" you scoffed as the girl nodded toward kika and your eyes rolled. "move, you know thats my side." you repeated again, having claimed the spot as yours from the moment you first came to visit mapi and ingrid.

"no." "déplacer!" you huffed in french now making her grin widen. "no."

"vale." you seemed to give in, sighing and moving to put your plate down on the table as if to sit on the floor, alexia catching your eye across the room and recognizing the look on your face all too well which the girl sat in your spot hadn't quite seen yet.

"pollito-" you heard the catalan call out sternly as she started toward you but it was too late as you let out a war cry and charged, cata's keeper instincts kicking in as she leapt to grab mignons plate milliseconds before you landed on her.

the thump alerted half the team to the scuffle as you managed to drag the slightly taller ex lyon player out of your spot, trying to claw your way back to reclaim it but her hand grabbed the back of your hoodie and yanked you down.

"jusqu'au français!" you hollered in french, teetering on top of mignon before you let out a squeal and she'd thrown you off, alexia's eyes wide as saucers as neither you or mignon had noticed but your head missed the corner of the coffee table by centimetres.

"hey hey capi! my house, i will handle it." mapi appeared in front of alexia who was still charging her way over, dodging and weaving between the multitude of bodies scattered across the floor.

"but-" "no no, you go sit down, eat." mapi assured, patting her best friends shoulder and waving off her concerns, alexia hovering back as the spaniard turning on heel and marched her way over to the pair of you.

you grunted as a hand grabbed the back of your neck, hauling you off of the girl you'd been rolling around with, holding you back as mapi cleared her throat and both you and mignon paused.

"if the pair of you want to fight-" you sighed, bracing yourself to be kicked out or worse embarrassed into a timeout like a nughty child, however the lecture you and mignon expected never came.

"you will do it properly. i will be the referee and keep it fair, which means no spitting, no punching, no arm bars, no biting-" alexia sighed deeply and buried her face in her hands as irene patted her back.

"-now place your bets chicas, fight starts in five! francia contra españa!"

[etherealkissed88]

learn indifference ⋆˙✧⋆

indifference = “lack of interest, lack of concern”

since we already know the 3d is always neutral and has no original meaning, we know that as the operant power we are the ones that assign ‘circumstances’ and ‘negative’ thoughts meaning.

we should continue being indifferent to the 3d meaning we dont care how it looks because it never means anything. being indifferent means no giving the 3d power, energy, no entertaining thoughts that dont serve us, no holding our desires above the pedestal, no accepting and creating stories based on our current 3d and dwelling in them.

remember that we are not our thoughts, we are not our circumstances, we are not our emotions, doubts, states, or anxieties. our past experiences have no power over us until we decide it does.

how to be indifferent:

be internally fulfilled (satisfy your inner self w the desire which is now reality) so that you feel the knowing of already having your desire which means it will be easier to not give a fuck about the 3d

accept the end and only the end: know that the 3d could be changing in your favor for example, a lady was manifesting a better high paying job and she got fired from her current job for whatever reason. because she got fired, someone recommended her to a new job which was higher paying and she got that job (which was what she wanted). imagine if she accepted the 3d when she lost her job instead of only accepting the end goal. this is why nothing in the 3d matters and why the 3d cant be trusted. whatever you see, dont identify with “this isnt working” blah blah blah because you should be practicing indifference like that lady. she didnt gaf about the 3d and continued accepting she was already her desired self

trust the law: the law is always working and failure does not exist. you identify as a desired version of you and fulfill? ok now its done. theres nothing else to do but continue being that person. dont let anything in the 3d crash you down. dont even entertain the option of “failure”

know the 3d is a reflection of imagination: it has no mind of its own. the only thing it knows how to do is reflect self/imagination so know that at every moment, you always call the shots. this is all you so why care or validate the 3d when its only a reflection of you?

hold yourself higher on the pedestal: when you put yourself (inner self/imagination) first, you become attached to anything else. finding validation in yourself only instead of the 3d. when you want something, immediately fulfill yourself with in imagination instead of searching for fulfillment in the 3d

stop giving the 3d attention: have you ever heard of “whatever you focus on grows”? when you find yourself being aware of the 3d, just shift you attention elsewhere

“As the end is accepted, you become totally indifferent as to possible failure, for acceptance of the end wills the means to that end. When you emerge from the moment of prayer, it is as though you were shown the happy and successful end of a play although you were not shown how that end was achieved.” - ng

“The best denial is total indifference. Things wither and die through indifference. They are kept alive through attention. You do not deny a thing by saying it does not exist. Rather you put feeling into it by recognizing it, and what you recognize as true, is true to you, be it good, bad or indifferent.” - nd

before indifference: *allowing negative thoughts to consume you, accepting the 3d ‘negative circumstances’ as true, when you imagine something and look at the 3d you feel easily discouraged and start to be a victim to it, feeling like you have to ignore the 3d because youre scared of it, you feel the need to search for answers in the 3d all day because you see it as more important than it actually is, you are attached to the 3d and your mood changes when a single little thing looks “bad”*

after indifference: *nothing in the 3d shakes who you are being in imagination because you know who you are internally being is the only truth, you dont care about experiencing things in the 3d that are the opposite of your desire because you know you always call the shots, if you get discouraged you get your ass back up and know yourself to be the operant power, you arent attached to the 3d and searching for its validation*

so when you are indifferent to the 3d, you dont care about it, you arent afraid of it, you know it holds no importance or original meaning therefore you dont let it influence who you are being in imagination. think about when people pass by a homeless person on the street: they might think about it in the moment but most of them would go thro the rest of their day forgetting about it because they just didnt care. think about that one person who always knows they look good and their jealous friend tells them they look bad: that person would not care about outside voices because they know that they look good and they only accept internal validation

your only job is accepting the desire that the inner self experiences, as true while being indifferent to the experiences of the human self

kisses, jani ☆

[two-white-butterflies]

a lemon cake | daemon targaryen

Description: The Hendriks have always kept to their own. What happens when a betrothal happens between the only Hendrik daughter and the Rogue Prince? A story where, you go through lengths in order to ensure your lord husband's loyalty.

W.C: a lotta words super mega ultra

A/N: After re-watching Descendants. I figured that this would be a good plot. Reader basically gives Daemon a love potion. It wears off. He's still in love. No beta we die like men. OC Daemon because of the love potion, but otherwise still him.

House Hendrik. In silence we persevere.

When the first lord of your house settled from Old Valyria, they did not bring dragons or swords - but they did bring magic. Magic that allowed the members of the house to hear the whispers of nature. But lately, nature has only answered with silence.

The lands were barren, and the sheep were dying of illness.

The gold in your coffers were nearing extinction. Correction, there wasn't anything left - your father has to work in the King's council to ensure that you and your children would live a comfortable life.

A prolonged sigh escapes your mouth. You stared at yourself through the reflection on the mirror. In silence we persevere.

You remind yourself of the words your father uttered before he left.

"My lady," the maid clears her throat. She was holding a sealed letter. "Thank you," you mumble while taking the paper from her hands.

You force a smile on your face.

My dearest daughter,

I am pleased announce that the King has agreed to an engagement, and your presence in the Red Keep is of utmost importance. It seems like the Seven Gods have answered our prayers. Do not think about the gold that we'll use to bring you here, your Aunt Jayne has agreed to sponsor the trip, with the promise that you won't forget her once you are a nobleman's wife. Take care.

All my love,

your father.

You finished reading the letter, inhaling the scent of vanilla. It was sadly a short letter, not detailing anything about your father's stay. He made sure that the letter was short and concise. He did not even have money for ink.

"My lady?" the maid inquires, curious about the contents of the letter.

"Lord Hendrik has invited me to join him in the Red Keep." you inform, watching as she poured you a glass of tea. "- will you promise to take care of the household in my absence?" you asked, and she presses a kiss to your forehead.

She stood as your mother, after Lady Hendrik died.

"I promise." she swore. "- have fun in the Capital." she smiled.

You could only nod.

"You told me that he agreed on a betrothal!" your eyebrows merged together. "You wouldn't have come here if the only purpose was finding a suitable match." your father insists.

"Our house has stood proud, looked down on others with lesser breeding. If word ever comes out that I am here to save a sinking ship, our reputation will be ruined." you argued.

"If there was another choice, I wouldn't ask." he says regretfully, his eyes cloudy with tears threatening to spill out. "- my position in the King's council is under threat. My health has fallen drastically, and only a husband can save you and our house." he breathes.

He knows that it shouldn't be that way, but it is.

"What you mean to say is..." you could not stomach to say the word.

"- this is my last gamble, child. If you do not wish to do it for our family, at least do it for yourself." he pleads.

Stupid family with their idiotic gambles. You cursed while continuing to concoct the potion. There was a hundred other ladies in this court, some more beautiful - some having bigger breasts - some having more melodious voices. And what were you stuck with?

This old gown that you inherited from your mother.

You weren't dealt the winning hand, so you must play with the cards that you were dealt with.

"Kesā sagon ñuhon." you whispered into the powder, feeling chills run up your spine as the magic takes effect. You will be mine.

You press a finger to your lips. Who will be mine?

Of course, they needed to be rich. You were in poverty and eating love for breakfast wasn't something you're looking forward to.

And of course, they needed to be handsome - because it will be a curse to stare at an ugly face everyday.

"Prince Daemon," you say out loud.

You fancied him when you were younger.

He had flowing silver-gold hair, and entrancing deep purple eyes. He was every maiden's dream. All everyone saw was a dangerous man - a shifting tide. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive.

But that wasn't going to be a problem.

If your love potion was going to take its full effect, he'd be a tamed dragon, and you'd be the most beautiful maiden in his eyes. He'd be loyal to you no matter what you did.

The thought of taming an untamable man was...alluring.

"Prince Daemon it is, then." you decide. Carefully storing the powder in the empty space of your locket.

The plan needed to work.

Daemon's eyes narrowed, seeing Lord Hendrik's daughter walk across the garden. His eyes were drawn towards her figure. He's heard stories about your great beauty - and now he's finally had the luxury of meeting you. "Lady Hendrik," he calls your name.

"My prince," you bowed, surprised that he knows you. "- it is a pleasure to be be in your presence." your gaze remained on the floor.

"I believe that I am the one who should be saying that," he tilted his head with a pensive smile. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your lips, engrossing himself in your features. "- it is not everyday that a maiden from Quid Isle visits the Red Keep." he added, offering his arm for you to take.

"It is a long journey." you were quick to answer, holding his arm as you both strolled down the gardens. Your father's castle used to have a garden exactly like this - but all the flowers have wilted now. Its beauty was forced to remain in your memory.

"I can only imagine," he hummed - still staring at your face.

There was a look in his eyes, telling you that he was interested.

He kept staring at you and you found yourself staring at him in return, waiting until he opened his mouth again. "You're very beautiful." he observed, moving a strand of hair away from your face.

"T-thank you." you surprise yourself by stuttering.

Gods, you've always been eloquent but what you were about to do was making you nervous.

You turned to look at the table behind you, sprinkling the secret powder on one of the lemon cakes.

"Lemon cake?" you offered, holding the pastry up with a smile.

"Sure," he agreed, not bothering to take the pastry from your hands - instead taking a small bite while you were still holding it.

The way he licked his lips made shivers run down your spine. You were indeed making the right choice. "Is it good?" you raised an eyebrow, waiting for that grumble on your stomach that told you that the spell was working.

"They taste different today." he admits, chewing at the sweet treat - surprised at the slight specks of saltiness. It brought the sweet flavor out, but it was the first time he's tasted lemon cakes like this.

"Good or bad?" you inquired.

Your stomach grumbles. His pupils dilate.

"Good," he says.

The love potion has indeed worked. He's looking at you the same way that the moon looks at the sun. There was a smile on his face, a soft and gentle smile only given to those feeling pure love. "You should try one, my lady." he offers, and you nod - doing exactly that.

"Is the court to your satisfaction?" he asked, unable to stare at anything other than you. "It is beautiful, my lord, especially the gardens. I've never seen anything quite like it." you smiled.

He admires the innocence in your eyes.

Your smile makes him want to smile too.

"Our gardens pale in comparison to Highgarden. Mayhaps, one day I shall take you there." he made a promise. You are slightly taken aback by the potency of your love potion.

"Take me there?" you repeated his last words.

"If it is your will, my lady." his hands rubbed circles on the back of your waist. "It is unbecoming, especially from an unmarried maiden. I wish not to impose, my prince." your mind returned to marriage.

Our last gamble.

"Oh yes, unmarried." he reminded himself. He takes a step backwards, a wave of clarity crashing through his features. You worried for a second that the love potion lost its effect, if it weren't for the look in his eyes - utterly dedicated and in love.

"I must leave to attend my business with the Gold Cloaks. Do not stray too far in the gardens, I shall talk to you later." he vows.

"Yes, my prince." was the only thing that you could say.

Daemon was fascinated but now he was sure that he was in love. Ever since he spoke to you in the gardens - you're the only thing that he thinks about. When he drinks wine, he wonders about the types of wine that you like. When he reads a book, he thinks about what your favorite books are.

Even a chore a simple as breathing makes him think about you.

As the months occurred, he's spent every living second beside you. Braiding your hair, reading books about his ancestry. He's even taught you a few things about sword-fighting.

He's defenseless against your love.

There was no escape.

"I intend to marry the Lady Hendrik." Daemon boldly announces in front of his brother. He was a million times sure that you were the woman he wanted to spend his eternity with. "I beg your pardon?" Viserys gazes up from his miniature version of Old Valyria.

"You've been pestering me about marriage ever since that Bronze Bitch died. I've finally made my choice. Lady Hendrik, the Master of Coin's daughter." Daemon emphasized.

Viserys' eyebrows merged together.

"Have you spoken to her?" Viserys inquired, surprised at his brother's sudden enthusiasm towards you. "I have." Daemon responds.

"How many conversations have you had with her?" Viserys follows up, a little skeptical but otherwise relieved that his brother has found love. "It matters not, she is the best choice. She is set to inherit her father's island. It shall keep me out of your way." Daemon argues.

"Lady Royce inherited the Runestone. What makes you think that this lady of yours is going to be different than the last?" Viserys queries, poking through his brother's resolve - trying to look for holes. He does not wish to grant annulment or mend Daemon's losses when the time comes that he falls out of love.

"I will wed the Lady Hendrik. We will live in Quid Isle." Daemon ignores his brother's question. His destiny already written in stone.

"There isn't anything that could stop you anyways." Viserys agrees, finding no other reason to disagree.

"Speak to her father. Make sure that he agrees." Viserys adds, returning his attention to his little Old Valyria.

"Your father has agreed to an engagement between us." Daemon announced from behind you, and suddenly your eyes light up. "Really?" happiness was leaking from your voice.

Your happiness, gives him happiness.

"I thought that what we had was merely friendship. You've really proved yourself, my prince." you smiled, as he presses your foreheads together. Your smile sinks to the floor, that feeling of guilt threatening to make your heart explode.

He doesn't actually love you. It's the potion.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired, his eyes flooding with worry.

I'm a horrible person for making him something that he is not.

All the nobles and maesters have fawned over his loyalty to me. The way he stares at me with love and adoration. He's not spoken to any other maiden except me. He refuses to dance with anyone but me.

When he realizes that this is all an enchantment, will he hate me?

"Darling," he repeats that term of endearment.

You snap out of the trance.

"I need a moment." you break free from the embrace. Sprinting towards the direction of your room. "Sure," you hear him mumble.

Once the doors to your chambers were shut - the tears flowed. "I'm sorry," you mumbled while laying on your bed, covering your body with the layers of blanket and furs. "I'm sorry," you kept repeating.

I'm a horrible person.

You've toyed with the very will of the gods, made Prince Daemon fall in love with you and act uncharacteristically - all for what? So you wouldn't starve when all the gold in your father's coffers runs out? There were thousands of small-folks starving everyday, their lives are lost to famine - all the while you worry about not living in luxury.

It was another day for you in paradise.

Even if your father died, you'd still live a comfortable life - as long as you didn't live above your means.

You shouldn't have done that to Daemon.

And the worst part was, you loved him - loved him with your entire heart. He was a constellation to you. You've never loved anyone as deeply as you've loved him.

But you betrayed him!

Betrayed the man that offered you jewelry and pretty dresses. Betrayed the man that looks at you with warmth.

You sniffle, slowly rising above the pile of blankets on your bed.

You march to your vanity, beginning to concoct a potion that will reverse your love spell.

You needed to make things right.

Daemon stares at the small hidden lake. It was something that his ancestors consecrated to have a piece of Old Valyria. The lake had magical powers, some say that it cures disease, but to him - it was the only thing that could convince him that gods were real.

"Ever since I was a little boy, I'd stare at this pond and feel peace." he explains, placing his hands inside of the lake - allowing that mystical feeling to wash over him. "They say that it is a piece of Valyria." he continues telling you the story.

These past few days, you've been avoiding him like a plague. When he meets your eyes - he sees nothing but sadness. He wishes that taking a bath in this lake would bring peace to you, or mayhaps cure the sadness that you've been feelings - you refuse to tell him what.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Dragonstone is beautiful." you were quick to thank, but your eyes were focused on the ground.

"Why do you evade my gaze?" he inquires, holding your chin with a finger - and lifting it so you'd meet his eyes. "We are going to be husband and wife soon." he announces, and that makes you flinch.

"I know," you hum.

"If you're scared of living Quid Isle - I promise you that we'll live there after the wedding." he points out one of the possible reasons as to why you were sad. "- I am much prepared to eat fish and chickens until I die." he smiles, and that sparkle returns to your eyes.

"Get in the water." he commands with a chuckle. "No," you shake your head - feeling his hand on your shoulder - threatening to pull you down. "Daemon," you warned, holding onto his forearm.

An involuntary giggle escapes your mouth, and you both plunge into the cold lake. That grumble in your stomach returns. Magic?

You hold onto him, unable to reach the bottom of the lake floor. "You are a cruel lord," you teased wrapping your arms around him.

He takes a second longer - still staring at your face. With that same lovestruck impression as the day you first met.

"Daemon," you say his name.

"I love you." he says out of the blue, burying his face on your nape.

For a second, his voice sounds deeper - his words more meaningful than usual. It almost made you doubt yourself.

You were about to lose everything.

Today is the day that you give him the reverse potion.

"Lemon cake?" you offer, holding the pastry with a forced smile. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist. "I don't want one." he shakes his head, instead choosing to take a sip of his wine.

"Are you sure?" your eyebrows merged together.

Why was he refusing your effort?

"I don't really like eating pastries, my love." he covers his smile with another sip of wine. He's been looking at you with more adoration, lately. He's been more dutiful than before. Always opening the door for you, always carrying your books, and of course, helping with the planning of your wedding.

"But I seem to remember that our love story began with a lemon cake?" you try to persuade him. A lemon cake is also how it ends.

"I've not had the stomach for anything as of the late. I'm sorry, dearest." he tries to say no as politely as he could. "But you have to eat it, please, for me?" you resorted to begging.

"No," he responds as petulantly as he could muster.

"Daemon," you say firmly this time.

Don't make it harder than it has to be. Eat it and hate me forever.

"Give me one good reason?" he says. His voice telling you that he knew something that you didn't. "Because your future wife wills it." you insist, and he sighs - taking a bite of the lemon cake.

He eats it with a smile, watching your features carefully.

"Does it taste good?" you found yourself asking the same questions as before. "Yes," he responds - chewing softly. "How do you feel?" you inquired, worried about his wellbeing.

"Why are you asking, little flower?" his grip is firm on your waist, ignoring the looks that you were both getting. It was a behavior unbecoming of unmarried people, even if you were engaged.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Do you still love me?" you found yourself carefully asking, masking it with sweetness just in case the potion wasn't in full effect yet. "I think that the potion takes a while to settle, my lady." he smiles, saying those string of words in a whisper.

You nod your head involuntarily until his words sink in.

The potion takes a while to settle.

"What?" your voice suddenly turns an octave higher.

"You are adorable." he muses, laughing.

"How long have you known?" the words spill out of your mouth. "It wore off when we swam in the lake of Dragonstone." he explains.

"So you've been pretending to love me these past few days?" you ask, guilt eating you whole. "I've not been pretending." he confirms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice. Our family isn't as rich as we appear to be, I-my father... I mean I thought that marrying you was the only way my family would be secure. But I love you and my conscience will not allow you to live in lie." you apologized, the tears pooling.

"Hate me if you want to. Have me executed for treason if you must..." you rambled but he silences you with a finger to your lips.

"You didn't need that spell." he says tenderly. His eyes still held that warmth, the promise to love you for more than a lifetime.

"I was enamored with you even without it." he chuckles, wiping the tears away from your eyes. "What?" you were confused. "- you need not to go through with the wedding." you add.

"But I wish to marry you, my lady." he takes the upper hand.

Oh, he's been long aware of your house's financial problems - it was one of the few reasons that Viserys chose your father as Master of Coin. He couldn't bare to see a friend of his suffering. And Daemon, well he's been drawn to you since you first stepped inside the castle.

You were magnetic and you made good company.

"Adorable," he hummed - pulling your face closer to his and silencing you with a deep and long kiss.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Can you write something like Evil Queens WandaNat x maid reader? Like reader is a new make and she’s kinda shy and quiet because she doesn’t wanna draw attention to herself, but she ends up doing that anyway when she manages to get out a really bad bloodstain out of the carpet (cause yk Wanda and Natasha did sum evil muahahaha- I’m sorry) Anyways, the maids usually have a hard time getting out blood stains which usually leads to them getting fired or uh- yk. But R caught their attention cause she could and was suddenly appointed as their personal maid and uh yeah you go wherever you want from there

Stains of the Heart

EvilQueens!WandaNat x Maid!Fem!Reader

Summary: Though you try to keep yourself hidden amongst the rest of the maids the Queens you work for take notice of you after being able to clean up properly after a mess they've made.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of dark themes, mentions of blood, sexual themes

A/N: I feel like I could have made them more evil, but this is what came out as I wrote. These two took over~

The grand hall of the castle was eerily silent as the new maid, you, scurried about, nervously clutching your cleaning supplies. The atmosphere was thick with tension, an almost tangible sense of dread that had settled in ever since you had started working here. You were well aware of the fate of those who failed to meet the exacting standards of the castle's rulers, the formidable queens Wanda and Natasha.

You had heard the whispers among the other servants, the hushed tones speaking of what happened to those who displeased the queens. The stories were enough to make you keep your head down, blending into the background, hoping to avoid their notice.

Today was particularly nerve-wracking. A terrible incident had occurred the night before, leaving a significant bloodstain on the opulent carpet in one of the grand parlors. The maids who had tried to clean it before you had all failed, disappearing shortly after. You knew this was a test of your skills, one that could either secure your place in the castle or seal your doom.

With trembling hands, you set to work. You had always been meticulous, and today you put every bit of your knowledge to use. You mixed a special solution, carefully applying it to the stain. As you worked, you whispered a silent prayer, willing the stain to vanish.

Hours passed, but eventually, the carpet was spotless. You allowed yourself a small sigh of relief, barely daring to believe your success. You knew better than to draw attention to yourself, but as you packed up your supplies, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope.

That hope was quickly dashed when you felt a presence behind you. Turning slowly, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Wanda. Her piercing eyes seemed to bore into your soul, making you feel small and insignificant.

"What's your name?" she demanded, her voice smooth yet laced with an underlying threat.

"Y/N, Your Majesty," you replied, keeping your eyes downcast.

"You did this?" she asked, gesturing to the now pristine carpet.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

She studied you for a moment, then nodded. "Impressive. Follow me."

Heart pounding, you followed her through the winding halls of the castle, eventually arriving at a grand chamber where Queen Natasha waited. Her eyes were just as intimidating as Wanda's, and you felt a shiver run down your spine under her scrutinizing gaze.

"This is the one?" Natasha asked, her voice cool and assessing.

"Yes," Wanda replied. "She has a talent."

Natasha approached you, her eyes never leaving yours. "We have a proposition for you," she said, her tone making it clear this was not a request. "You will become our personal maid. Fail us, and you know the consequences."

Your mind raced, but you knew there was only one answer. "Yes, Your Majesty," you agreed, bowing your head.

From that moment on, your life changed. You were no longer just another servant in the castle; you were under the direct scrutiny of the queens. They were demanding, their standards impossibly high, but you met each challenge with quiet determination.

As time passed, you learned more about them. Wanda, with her powerful presence and piercing gaze, and Natasha, with her calculating mind and cold demeanor. You discovered the complexities beneath their fierce exteriors, the reasons for their ruthlessness.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself alone with Wanda. She seemed different, almost... softer. "You surprise me, Y/N," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Most would have faltered by now."

"I'm just doing my best, Your Majesty," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"And you do it well," she acknowledged, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

In that moment, you realized that perhaps there was more to your role than you had initially thought. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a place here, earn their trust, and uncover the secrets that lay beneath the surface of their reign.

But for now, you would continue to serve, keeping your head down, your skills sharp, and your heart guarded against the enigmatic allure of the evil queens.

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

Your days as the personal maid to Queens Wanda and Natasha had settled into a demanding yet predictable rhythm. The queens were strict, their expectations high, and every task carried the weight of your continued survival. Yet, amidst the constant pressure, you had begun to notice subtle shifts, particularly in Wanda's behavior towards you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you were summoned to Wanda's private chambers. Your heart raced as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, waiting for her permission to enter.

"Come in," her voice called from inside, smooth and commanding.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind you. Wanda was seated by the large window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight streaming in. She looked up as you entered, her expression unreadable.

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" you asked, keeping your head slightly bowed in respect.

"Yes, Y/N," she replied, her tone softer than usual. "Come here."

You approached her cautiously, stopping a few feet away. She gestured for you to sit on the nearby cushioned chair, and you obeyed, sitting down with your hands clasped in your lap.

Wanda studied you for a moment, her eyes intense but not unkind. "You've been here for some time now," she began. "You've proven yourself capable, resourceful, and... loyal."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," you said quietly, unsure of where this conversation was leading.

She stood and moved closer to you, her presence both intimidating and strangely comforting. "Do you enjoy your work, Y/N?" she asked, her voice holding an unusual note of curiosity.

"I take pride in my work, Your Majesty," you replied carefully. "I strive to meet your expectations."

She reached out, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet her gaze. "You've exceeded them," she said softly, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You felt a blush creep up your neck at her touch, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Your Majesty," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's expression softened further, and she smiled—a rare and breathtaking sight. "You've done more than just meet expectations, Y/N," she said. "You've caught my attention."

You blinked in surprise, not daring to believe what you were hearing. "I... I'm honored, Your Majesty."

She chuckled softly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You've been so quiet, so diligent," she said. "But I see you, Y/N. I see your strength, your determination. And I find myself... intrigued."

Her words left you speechless, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Wanda's hand moved from your chin to your cheek, her touch warm and tender. "Do not fear me," she whispered, leaning in closer. "I do not intend to harm you. Quite the opposite."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "What do you intend, Your Majesty?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

She smiled again, her lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I intend to show you my favor," she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. "To reward your loyalty and dedication."

Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you found yourself leaning into her, the world around you fading away.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "You are special, Y/N," she said quietly. "Remember that."

You nodded, still dazed from the kiss. "I will, Your Majesty."

Wanda's smile widened, and she gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good. Now, go and rest. You have earned it."

You rose to your feet, feeling a strange mix of emotions. As you left her chambers and made your way back to your quarters, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Wanda's affection was both a blessing and a danger, and you knew you would have to navigate it carefully.

But for now, you allowed yourself a small moment of happiness, the memory of her kiss lingering on your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

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

The days following your intimate encounter with Queen Wanda were filled with a peculiar mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You carried on with your duties as usual, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a sense that something significant had shifted. Wanda's affectionate gaze lingered on you more often, and you couldn't help but wonder if others had noticed.

One afternoon, as you were meticulously arranging fresh flowers in the grand hall, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Natasha. Her eyes were as cold and calculating as ever, but there was a new intensity in her gaze that made your pulse quicken.

"Y/N," she said, her voice low and authoritative. "Come with me."

Your heart pounded as you followed her through the labyrinthine corridors to a secluded study. Once inside, she closed the door with a quiet finality that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to a chair in front of a large, ornate desk.

You sat down, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. Natasha circled the desk and took a seat, her piercing eyes never leaving yours.

"I've noticed a change in Wanda," she began, her tone even but with an edge that made you nervous. "She seems... distracted. And I believe I know the reason why."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "Your Majesty, I—"

Natasha held up a hand, silencing you. "Do not lie to me, Y/N. I am well aware of the kiss."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a wave of panic. "I—"

"Do not be afraid," she said, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "I am not here to punish you. In fact, I have a proposition."

You blinked in surprise, the tension in the room thickening. "A proposition, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," Natasha replied, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper as she leaned closer. "Instead of simply being our maid, would you like to be our plaything?"

Your eyes widened, and your mind raced. The suggestion was both thrilling and terrifying. "Your Majesty, I—"

She reached out, taking your chin in her hand, her grip firm yet not painful. Her eyes bored into yours, making it clear that this was not a casual offer. "Wanda seems to have taken a liking to you that just won't go away," she continued. "And I will do whatever necessary to make her happy."

Her words sent a shiver through you, a mix of fear and desire coursing through your veins. How could you say no to them when everything about them made you want them? You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Of course, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "It would be the highest of honors to serve you and Queen Wanda however you need."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Natasha's lips. "Good," she purred, releasing your chin and leaning back in her chair. "You will continue with your duties as usual, but you will also be available to us whenever we desire. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," you said, nodding.

Natasha's smile widened, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Very well. You may go."

You rose from your chair, bowing your head respectfully. As you turned to leave, Natasha's voice stopped you.

"And Y/N," she added, her tone almost teasing, "do not disappoint us."

You nodded once more, then quickly left the room, your mind spinning. The proposition was both a dangerous game and an intoxicating possibility. As you resumed your duties, you couldn't help but wonder how this new dynamic would unfold, and what it would mean for your place in the castle.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the feeling of Natasha's intense gaze and Wanda's tender kiss. The queens had ensnared you in their web, and there was no turning back. You only hoped you could navigate their desires and demands without losing yourself in the process.

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

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of intense and secretive encounters with the queens. Each interaction left you more entranced by their power and allure, yet there was always a lingering sense of danger. Wanda's tender kisses and Natasha's possessive touches had become a regular part of your life, blurring the lines between duty and desire. But until now, your encounters with them had remained separate.

Today was different.

You were summoned by Queen Wanda, a call that usually filled you with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Her affection was addictive, and you found yourself craving her attention more with each passing day. However, when you stepped into their private chambers, the sight that greeted you made your heart skip a beat.

Both queens were there, their regal clothes splattered with blood. Panic surged through you as you rushed over to them, your hands trembling as you cupped their cheeks, frantically checking for any cuts or stab wounds. To your immense relief, you found none.

"You're not hurt," you breathed, your voice filled with concern and confusion.

Natasha's grip on your wrist was sudden and firm, pulling you towards her. Her kiss was rough, almost punishing, and you found yourself melting into it despite the intensity. Her other hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place as her lips claimed yours. The taste of her was intoxicating, and you barely registered Wanda moving behind you until you felt her soft kisses trailing along your shoulders and neck.

Wanda's hands slipped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Her lips and tongue worked their magic on your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You were caught between them, their combined presence overwhelming and exhilarating.

"Don't worry, my sweet," Wanda whispered against your neck, her breath warm and soothing. "The blood isn't ours."

Natasha broke the kiss, her eyes dark and filled with desire. "We had some... business to attend to," she explained, her voice low and seductive. "And now we want to attend to you."

Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but all you could focus on was the sensation of their hands and lips on your body. Wanda's fingers traced patterns on your skin, while Natasha's grip tightened, a perfect balance of tenderness and dominance.

"You've been such a good girl," Wanda murmured, her voice like honey. "Always so eager to please us."

Natasha's lips curled into a predatory smile. "And now it's time for us to show you just how much we appreciate your devotion."

They guided you towards the large, luxurious bed, each movement coordinated and purposeful. As you lay down, Wanda climbed beside you, her hands never leaving your body. Natasha followed, her eyes never leaving yours as she leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate.

Wanda's hands roamed over your torso, her touch gentle yet electrifying. "Relax, my darling," she cooed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let us take care of you."

Natasha's hand slid under your shirt, her fingers tracing the outline of your bra. "You belong to us now," she whispered, her voice sending a thrill of excitement through you. "Body and soul."

Caught in their embrace, you felt a surge of emotions—fear, desire, love, and a deep-seated need to please them. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Your Majesties."

Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your submission. Together, they undressed you with a mix of urgency and reverence, their hands and mouths exploring every inch of your skin. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and their murmured words of affection and desire.

Wanda's lips captured yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, her hand cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. "You're ours," she whispered against your lips.

Natasha's hands moved lower, eliciting a moan from you as she found your most sensitive spots. "Forever," she echoed, her voice a promise and a command.

In their arms, you felt a profound sense of belonging, a connection that went beyond mere physical attraction. They were your queens, and you were their treasured plaything, caught in a web of power, passion, and unspoken loyalty.

As the night wore on, you surrendered yourself completely to their touch, their love, and their power, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be—at the mercy of the queens who ruled your heart and soul.

@dorabledewdroop

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

My brain is on fire same I can’t sleep and am thinking of this:

The way she writes about marriage/family/commitment through these different situations across the album is soooooooooo interesting.

You have a very intense first experience of it in “The Manuscript,” where it is first dangled in front of her/the narrator’s young, impressionable self as shorthand for real love in a situation that ended up being smoke and mirrors. She’s being told everything she wants to hear by someone who basically thinks it’s just foreplay. In the end, when it’s clear that the other person has no intention of actually making a life with her, it makes her feel used, but she forces herself to recalibrate and become the girl she thinks he and all the other hes want her to be. Easy breezy cool. But there’s a sense of loss in realizing those hopes were merely banter to the other.

You have the “grown up” version of it alluded to in “So Long, London” and “How Did It End?”, the years of putting in work to save a relationship and the “deflation of our dreaming leaving [her] bereft and reeling” leading to them “calling it all off.” The implication is clearly that they built a home together with plans for next steps at a point in time, but the commitment is shattered. (Obviously to me it sounds like marriage.) She’s bitter at spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately didn’t want to be there, even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it himself.

She felt like she did everything she was supposed to, but they were learning the right steps to different dances at as it were. Those dreams were at one point shared, but in the end they weren’t right for each other and she admits that, though bitterly (“I founded the club she’s heard great things about” eg the years she put in for him to help him grow up will end up benefiting his new lover, “but I’m not the one,” “you’ll find someone,” etc.). Mixed in with all this of her resentment of him wasting her youth (sacrificing herself at the altar), and his resentment of her for reasons less defined, and insinuations of betrayal in the shadows. The fantasy of the whole package disappears into the ether, yet she still has no answers as to how they got there.

Then in comes the wolf in sheep’s clothing in many of the rest of the songs, the one who promises her all those things she’s dreamed of since she was a kid instantly. After years of moulding herself to other men’s desires, someone comes in and tells her exactly what she wants to hear at the most vulnerable time of her life, as though the universe is answering her prayers, like some sort of cosmic payback for all she’s suffered, and it’s the most intoxicating drug of all. She’s gone from her wish for a family life feeling like she’s in a way being used for her body, to it being used as a chain to a relationship gone sour, to having someone put a metaphorical ring on her finger and tell her he wants to have babies with her, fuck those other guys.

In her grief and stupor, it’s too good to be true, which is exactly why she falls for it. But of course, it’s all an illusion, because this wolf is an amalgamation of the worst of all the men who came before him. He tells her everything she wants to hear not to make her dreams come true, but to make his. He takes the worst parts of these scenarios to make his move: he’ll stand by her, he’ll commit, he’ll do it out in the open under the spotlight’s glare (all things desperately lacking in her last relationship), but after he beds her he stabs her in the back in private and leaves her. He got what he wanted at the expense of her losing everything she wanted, this time as her world caved in seemingly for good. She feels like she gave up everything she thought she might have had for a chance that this is where the universe has been point her all along, only to be left broken for good (you represent the loss of my life as I knew it).

Then there are two sort of codas to this. In “But Daddy I Love Him” we get a sassier reimagining of “Love Story,” where the girl with the scarlet letter is mouthy and crass and tells everyone to go fuck themselves for cursing her in the first place, choosing her love above all else. And no, those haters can’t come to her wedding. Her daddy may have come around, but they sure can’t. Finally it seems someone is choosing her and will someday give her these things, and she’ll be able to show all the naysayers. (Also interestingly one of the more fictionally-veiled songs which ends happily vs the diaristic ones that don’t.)

Then of course there’s “So High School,” our first glimpse into what the future holds. Probably the only unabashedly happy (nay… electric?) song on the album, it’s all about reclaiming the buzz of youth (which is a whole other post) with a new lover. “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It’s just a game but really, I’m betting on all three for us two.” It’s, er, a direct nod to a certain now-infamous interview, but again, she’s staking her claim on her future, if not certain then at least hopeful again. This time the prospect doesn’t come with a “but.” It’s not, we’ll be pushing strollers but actually you’re too young. It’s not, we had these dreams for our future but actually I can’t move forward. It’s not, I’m going to promise you a ring and a baby but only until my needs are met and then I’m out. It’s, I know what I wanted and I’m not leaving, and thanks to that now she stays too.

The album dealt with the theme not at all in the way I expected, but is absolutely fascinating.