#your enjoyment fuels me to create more!

[moonfang182-magic]

I AM SO F*CKING HERE FOR GREGTOBER HONEY YOU HAVE BEAT A NAIL INTO THE PART OF MY BRAIN THAT LOVES THAT GOOBER APPLAUSE AND EVERYTHING TO YOU

EEEEE Your message made me very very happy!! Definitely helped me through the last few days of Gregtober and I wanted to thank you with some special art ^w^

I hope you keep up with all the new art from me and from all the other wonderful creators in the @gregaverse!!

AUs shown (all mine lol):

"Megaplex Security Puppet" - Puppet

"New Vessel" - Navy

"Golden Child" - Carebear

"The Amazing Spider-Cub" - Webs

"Magical Universe: Heroes of Light" - Star

"Witches of Fazbear" - Jinx

"Golden Bro" - Grizzly (co-owned by the lovely @honey-bunnysaurus)

[mrsfancyferrari]

Need Saving

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay.

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Part 2 - Part 3 Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. THIS WILL BE A SERIES AND THANK YOU FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! Please like, reblog and share this! <3 ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

Word count: 10.8k

You are making history as the first woman to compete in Formula 1 with the Red Bull team, stepping in for Sergio Perez.

This groundbreaking achievement not only highlights your talent but also paves the way for future generations of female racers in a sport traditionally dominated by men.

Your personality shines through with a warm and friendly demeanor that makes you incredibly approachable. Colleagues and fans alike find you likable, creating an inviting atmosphere wherever you go.

This charm not only endears you to those around you but also helps foster a supportive environment within the competitive world of racing

Some have affectionately dubbed you the "Mini Honey Badger," a nod to the legendary Daniel Ricciardo. This playful comparison reflects your fierce determination and tenacity on the track, qualities that resonate with fans and fellow racers.

Your unique blend of charisma and competitive spirit is sure to leave a lasting impression in the world of Formula 1.

Luckily, you found yourself paired with one of the most talented drivers in the sport, Max Verstappen.

From the very beginning, you and Max clicked effortlessly, perhaps due to your shared sense of humor or the lighthearted way you both approached life outside of racing.

Max, known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, also had a playful side that drew you in. Whether it was sharing funny anecdotes from your childhood or engaging in friendly banter about each other's driving styles, the connection felt natural and invigorating.

You both understood the pressures of the sport, yet you managed to find joy in the little moments, whether it was a shared laugh over a silly meme or a light-hearted debate about the best racing video games.

This bond not only made your time together enjoyable but also fostered a sense of trust and teamwork that would prove invaluable as the season progressed.

During your initial week in Formula 1, the team was treated to a mix of corny jokes and uproarious laughter, creating an atmosphere that was both fun and relaxed.

It was clear that the camaraderie between you two was something special, and it didn’t take long for everyone to notice. The garage, usually filled with the tension of competition, transformed into a space of joy and lightheartedness.

You and Max would often engage in playful challenges, like who could come up with the worst dad joke or who could impersonate the team’s engineers the best.

These moments not only broke the ice but also helped to build a strong team spirit.

The mechanics and engineers, who often worked long hours under pressure, found themselves smiling more often, and the overall morale of the team improved.

It was as if your infectious energy had a ripple effect, reminding everyone that while racing was serious business, it was also about passion, fun, and the love of the sport.

Christian Horner, the team principal, seemed to recognize this chemistry right away.

He confidently remarked to the media about the dynamic of having a girl and a boy on the same team, suggesting that he had a good feeling about the partnership.

His words resonated with the fans and the media alike, sparking conversations about the evolving landscape of motorsport and the importance of diversity within the sport. It was evident that the two of you were destined to make waves together on and off the track.

Christian’s faith in your partnership only fueled your determination to succeed.

You both knew that the expectations were high, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced the challenge.

"Joseph, can you give me an update on the gap behind?" you inquired, your voice steady as it crackled through the radio to your race engineer.

The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of the high stakes at play.

"You're looking at a 5-second lead over Norris, Y/N," Joseph Duke responded, his tone calm and focused.

As you navigated the track, the adrenaline surged through your veins, heightening your senses.

The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, but your focus remained solely on the asphalt ahead.

Max was currently leading the race, and you were right on his tail, just a heartbeat away from making a decisive move.

With the world championship points on the line, every second counted, and the team’s strategy was crucial.

"Copy that, Joseph. I’m feeling good about this pace. Should I push to overtake Max?" you asked, weighing your options.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you could almost hear the roar of the crowd in your mind, their cheers and gasps fueling your determination.

You could picture the fans waving flags, the excitement building as the race unfolded.

"Remember, he’s leading the championship, so those points are vital for him," Joseph reminded you, his voice steady and measured.

You took a deep breath, considering the risks and rewards of your next move. The thought of overtaking Max was tantalizing, but the consequences of a miscalculation loomed large.

"Understood. But if I don’t make a move soon, he might pull away," you replied, your mind racing through the possibilities.

You could see the track ahead, the curves and straightaways that could either make or break your race.

"Just keep your head in the game, Y/N. Focus on your lines and stay patient. The opportunity will come," Joseph advised, his experience guiding you through the chaos.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, reminding yourself that patience was key.

As you approached the next turn, you felt the car respond to your every command, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision.

You could see Max’s car just ahead, a flash of blue and white, and the urge to push harder surged within you.

"Alright, I’ll hold back for now, but I’m ready when the moment strikes," you said, determination lacing your words.

The opportunity to seize the grand prix had slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of second place as Max celebrated his victory.

It wasn’t that you felt anger towards him; after all, the stakes were high, and the competition was fierce.

You had performed admirably, even outshining Checo this season, and Red Bull was finally back to their P1-P2 glory.

As you stepped out of your car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you spotted Max waiting for you, his helmet off and a look of concern etched on his face.

He rushed over, his expression serious as he enveloped you in a quick hug. “You don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected question. Removing your helmet, you met his gaze with a warm smile. “Of course not! But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next week,” you replied playfully, your competitive spirit igniting once more.

Max’s face lit up with a genuine smile, the tension dissipating. “Mate, I won’t go down that easy!” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of rivalry.

As you made your way to celebrate with the team, you noticed the difference in how they treated you compared to Max. While he was hoisted into the air, receiving enthusiastic cheers and bone-crushing hugs, you felt a more cautious approach directed your way.

It was a subtle reminder of the gender dynamics at play in the sport. You brushed it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie and the shared passion that brought you all together.

The post-race atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout of joy.

You joined in the celebrations, clapping your hands and cheering for your teammates, but a part of you remained introspective.

You replayed the race in your mind, analyzing every corner, every overtaking maneuver, and every missed opportunity.

The thrill of competition was intoxicating, but so was the desire to prove yourself, not just to the team but to the world.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself lingering at the periphery of the lively celebration, your gaze fixed on Max as he reveled in the spotlight of his victory.

He was the star of the night, the one everyone clamored to congratulate, while you stood in the shadows, merely the second driver.

Christian approached, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, a gesture of appreciation for your support. Yet, it felt insufficient.

You masked your feelings with a bright smile as you watched Max raise his glass, laughter spilling from his lips as the clock inched toward midnight.

“Goodnight, Max,” you called out, aware that your boyfriend, Jake would be less than pleased if you lingered too long.

“Goodnight, best friend! Did I mention you look lovely tonight?” Max replied, his words slightly slurred as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No, you didn’t! Thank you, Max. You look great too!” you managed to say, your heart fluttering at the compliment.

As the night wore on, you exchanged goodbyes with the others, the atmosphere buzzing with joy and celebration.

You decided it was time to head home, opting for a taxi since you had indulged in a few drinks earlier.

Once inside the cab, you leaned back against the seat, reflecting on the evening. The laughter, the cheers, and the way Max had shone like a beacon of success.

It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself of the bond you shared.

The driver navigated through the city streets, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the photos from the night.

There was Max, grinning ear to ear, surrounded by friends, and there you were, a supportive figure in the background.

Just as the car turned, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced down to see a message from Jake.

“Where are you?” he texted, the words appearing on your screen like a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting for you at home.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection as you typed back, “Just left the party! On my way home now. Can’t wait to see you!”

The taxi weaved through the city streets, and you could almost picture him waiting for you, perhaps pacing a little, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was worried.

You could hear his voice in your head, teasing you about how you always took too long to say goodbye, but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.

As the taxi pulled up to your building, you felt a flutter of excitement. You paid the driver and hurried inside, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you stepped into the apartment, a heavy scent of alcohol hit you like a wave, and your heart sank.

The cheerful anticipation you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You knew Jake had been struggling lately, and the telltale signs of his mood were all around you.

Empty bottles cluttered the coffee table, their labels peeling and faded, remnants of nights spent drowning sorrows that seemed to multiply with each passing day.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously made your way further inside, hoping to find a glimmer of the warmth you once cherished, a flicker of the love that had once filled this space.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you called out, trying to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, but your voice felt small and fragile against the oppressive silence that enveloped the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Just then, he emerged from the shadows of the living room, his eyes glassy and unfocused, as if he were peering through a fog that had settled deep within him.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word laced with bitterness. “Did you have fun pretending to be normal out there?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, hurling insults that cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

It was as if he was trying to push you away, to create a chasm between you that felt insurmountable.

And yet, amidst the hurt, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved, the one who was lost beneath layers of pain and anger.

“Why do you always have to do this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in your tone betraying the strength you wished to project. “I just want to help you.”

He scoffed, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand, the gesture almost theatrical in its disdain. “Help? You mean control. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You’re just like everyone else, trying to tell me what to do.”

The words stung, and you felt the weight of his accusations pressing down on you, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

“I’m not trying to control you,” you replied softly, “I just want to be there for you. Can’t we talk about this?”

But as you looked into his eyes, you realized that the man you once knew was slipping further away, lost in a haze of his own making.

His gaze, once so full of life and passion, now seemed clouded, distant. It was as if he was peering through a murky window, unable or unwilling to see the vibrant world outside.

You could see the shadows of his struggles etched on his face, the lines of worry and anger deepening with each passing day. It pained you to witness this transformation, to see the light in him dimmed by his own fears and insecurities.

“Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help?” you pressed, your heart racing as desperation crept into your voice. “I’m not your enemy. I want to understand what you’re going through.”

You took a tentative step closer, hoping to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable.

But he recoiled slightly, as if your words were a physical blow, and the distance between you felt more pronounced than ever.

“Understand?” he scoffed, his tone laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz in and understand? You have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped, to have every choice taken from you. You don’t know the weight of this burden.”

His voice cracked, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado.

As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake brushed by you, grabbing his coat and shoes in one swift motion.

"I'm heading out for a walk. Don't even think about following me," he snapped, his words laced with the sting of alcohol.

You simply nodded, feeling a mix of concern and frustration, but you stayed rooted in place until you heard the door slam shut behind him.

With the sound echoing in the silence, you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. You glanced around the room, the remnants of the night scattered everywhere—empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the floor.

"Guess it's cleanup time," you muttered to yourself, bending down to gather the bottles. As you worked, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from your best friend, Sarah.

"Hey! How's everything? You okay?"

You sighed, typing back quickly. "Not great. He just stormed out after a fight. I’m cleaning up the mess now."

A moment later, your phone chimed again. "Want me to come over? I can help."

You hesitated, glancing at the door. "No, it’s fine. I just need to sort things out."

"Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now."

You paused, considering her words. "I’ll be okay. I just need to think."

As you continued to tidy up, you replayed the argument in your mind. It had started over something trivial, but the alcohol had turned it into a full-blown fight.

You could hear his voice in your head, the way he had raised his tone, the way he had dismissed your feelings.

"Why does he always do this?" you whispered to yourself, frustration bubbling up again.

You were well aware that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

After tidying up the house, you decided to treat yourself to a long, relaxing bath.

The warm water enveloped you, washing away the day’s worries. Once you felt refreshed, you slipped into your favorite pajamas and crawled into bed, the soft sheets providing a comforting embrace.

He hadn’t always been this way—filled with anger and lost in the depths of alcoholism.

You both had shared a beautiful love story, starting as high school sweethearts. You could still remember the way he used to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection, mirroring the love you felt for him.

As you lay there, memories flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you had built together. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by the weight of his struggles.

Maybe it was the pressure of work that was taking a toll on him. You thought back to the last time you had a heart-to-heart.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about our future?” you had asked him one evening, the two of you sitting on the porch, the sun setting in a blaze of colors.

He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Things can get better, you know. We can work through this together,” you had urged, your heart aching for the man you once knew.

He had looked away, his expression clouded. “I don’t know if I can. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

You had reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the distance between you grew. The man you loved was slipping away, replaced by someone you barely recognized.

Now, lying in bed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to you. Would he remember the love you once shared? Would he fight against the demons that haunted him?

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would bring a glimmer of hope, a sign that the man you loved was still inside, waiting to break free.

As you settled into bed, the glow of your phone screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a flurry of notifications that had accumulated while you were winding down.

Most of them were filled with excitement, congratulating you on your impressive second-place finish in the race. However, amidst the sea of cheerful messages, one stood out—a private note from Max.

While some comments stung with negativity, suggesting you didn’t belong in the world of Formula 1, Max’s message was a beacon of warmth.

“Thanks for coming to celebrate with me 👍,” it read, and a smile crept across your face, momentarily pushing away the weight of the harsh words.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you, and for a moment, tears threatened to spill over. But instead of succumbing to the sadness, you decided to respond to Max.

Your fingers danced over the screen as you typed, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you deserved it! 😁” The moment you hit send, a sense of relief washed over you.

It was a reminder that amidst the criticism, there were still those who appreciated your presence and celebrated your achievements.

You could almost hear Max’s laughter echoing in your mind, a sound that always seemed to lift your spirits.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, a new message popped up from Max. “You really made the night special! I’m glad you were there. Let’s catch up soon?”

His words filled you with warmth, and you could picture him grinning with alcohol still in his system, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

After setting your phone aside for the night, you drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the world outside fading into a distant memory.

When you awoke, you were enveloped in a warm embrace, the kind that felt like home. Instantly, you recognized the familiar presence of Jake, his body radiating warmth against yours.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of his previous night out with friends, a detail that both amused and concerned you.

A smile crept across your face as you turned to see him, his features relaxed and serene, a stark contrast to the tension that had marked his demeanor the night before.

Curiosity sparked within you, igniting a flurry of questions as you pondered where he had spent his time, what stories he might have to share, and whether the night had been as wild as you imagined.

You felt a rush of affection for him, a desire to know every detail of his adventures, to understand the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Despite the warnings from your friends urging you to reconsider your relationship, your feelings for him remained steadfast, unwavering like a lighthouse in a storm.

They claimed he was a source of trouble, a tempest that could jeopardize your career and stir up scandals that would ripple through your life.

Yet, deep down, you understood him better than they did, seeing the layers of his character that they overlooked. You believed in his integrity, in the goodness that lay beneath the surface, and you knew he wouldn’t intentionally cause chaos in your life.

Their concerns echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing against a far-off shore.

You were determined to forge your own path, to trust your instincts, and to embrace the love that had blossomed between you, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of skepticism.

Although your relationship was already in the public eye, with whispers and speculation swirling around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind, he had yet to join you in the paddock due to his work commitments.

You felt a mix of anticipation and longing, a bittersweet ache in your chest as you navigated the bustling environment without him by your side.

As you glanced at your phone, the screen illuminated the early morning hour, signaling it was time for your daily jog.

You carefully extricated yourself from Jake's embrace, trying not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Just as you were about to tiptoe out of the room, you caught a faint mumble escaping his lips, a mix of sleep and concern. “Where are you going?” he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness.

You paused for a moment, torn between the urge to reassure him and the need to stick to your routine.

“I’m just going for a quick run, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” you replied softly, hoping to ease any lingering worries. His brow furrowed slightly, even in his sleep, as if he sensed your departure was more than just a morning ritual.

“You always run too early… what if someone sees you?” he muttered, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, even in his dreams.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just me and the open road. You know I love my morning jogs.”

You could feel the tension in the air, a familiar weight that often accompanied your outings. “Okay,” he finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in his tone.

You quickly changed into your jogging attire before stepping out of the house. With a sense of urgency, you slipped into your comfortable workout gear, ready to embrace the fresh air outside.

The fabric of your favorite moisture-wicking shirt clung to your skin, and the soft elastic of your running shorts felt familiar and reassuring.

You laced up your well-worn sneakers, the soles still resilient from countless miles, and took a moment to stretch your legs, feeling the anticipation build within you.

Once dressed, you felt the excitement of the run ahead, eager to hit the pavement and enjoy the rhythm of your feet against the ground.

The world outside beckoned, vibrant and alive, as you opened the door and stepped into the crisp morning air. The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filled your lungs, invigorating your spirit.

You took a deep breath, letting the coolness wash over you, and with a quick glance at the sky, you noted the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the horizon.

As you began to jog, the familiar cadence of your heartbeat matched the steady thump of your feet on the pavement. Each stride felt liberating, a release from the confines of the day-to-day.

You could feel the tension of the week melting away with every step, replaced by a sense of freedom and clarity.

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that accompanied you on your journey.

As you were enjoying your morning jog through the park, the rhythmic sound of your feet hitting the pavement was suddenly interrupted by a group of enthusiastic voices.

A cluster of women and girls approached you, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Excuse me! Miss Y/N! Can we get your autograph?" one of them exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

You paused, a bit surprised but also flattered, and smiled at the eager crowd. "Of course! I’d be happy to," you replied, pulling out a small notepad from your pocket.

Amid the chatter, a young girl stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want to start go-karting because I want to be just like you!" she declared, her voice filled with determination.

You could see the passion in her eyes, and it warmed your heart. "That’s amazing! Go-karting is such a fun sport," you encouraged her. "What do you love most about it?"

The girl beamed, her confidence growing as she shared her dreams of racing and the thrill of speed. "I love the idea of being in control and going fast! It looks so cool!"

You nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility to inspire her. "You know, every champion starts somewhere. If you really want to do it, just keep practicing and never give up. Surround yourself with people who support you, and you’ll go far," you advised, hoping to instill a sense of belief in her.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. "I will! Thank you so much!"

As the group dispersed, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, realizing that your journey could inspire others to chase their dreams, just as you had. . . .

As the days rolled on, the team decided to spice things up a bit before race week by organizing a fun game called "How Well Do You Know Each Other."

The idea was to not only entertain the fans but also to give everyone a glimpse into the camaraderie between you and Max.

You found yourself standing in front of the camera, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you, while Max lounged comfortably on the sofa behind you, his headphones snugly in place, unable to listen in.

The staff kicked off the game with a playful tone, "Alright, let’s start with you! The first question about Max is… what is Max's favorite food?" You grinned, confident in your knowledge of your teammate.

"Oh, I know this one! Max is a huge fan of both Italian and Dutch cuisine, while I personally lean more towards Spanish dishes," you replied, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

The crew chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter, and you could see Max nodding in agreement, a smirk on his face even though he didn't know what you said.

After a few more questions, it was time for the roles to reverse. You took a seat on the sofa, and Max stood in front of the camera, a playful glint in his eyes.

The staff asked him the same question, and he leaned forward, a teasing smile forming. "Well, I know my teammate pretty well! She loves her Spanish food, but I think she secretly wishes she could cook like an Italian chef," he joked.

"You better be getting this right, I wanna beat Charles and Carlos' record," you said, feeling the competitive in you to beat Ferrari's record of 18 out of 20 right.

Max only turned around and gave an okay sign since you couldn't hear him, adding a little small wink for the tease but it was caught on camera.

In the end, both you and Max aced all the questions, and the excitement bubbled over as you jumped up and down, your energy infectious. Max stood nearby, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your enthusiasm.

"See, everyone! Red Bull is clearly the superior team compared to Ferrari, so make sure to support us this week!" you exclaimed, wrapping up the video with a flourish.

As you turned to Max, you noticed he was still gazing at you, lost in thought. It took you by surprise.

"Max, do you want to add anything to what I just said?" you asked, a playful grin on your face as you nudged his shoulder gently.

Snapping back to reality, Max turned to the camera, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.

"Oh, umm, yeah… Red Bull domination, I guess?" he replied, his voice a mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response, and Max's smile widened, clearly pleased that he could make you laugh.

"Alright, everyone, that's a wrap! We'll catch you all soon. Fingers crossed for another P1-P2 finish, but maybe next time we can switch things up a bit," you said, waving enthusiastically at the camera.

As the camera clicked off, you turned to the crew with a warm smile, expressing your gratitude for their support. You shifted your focus to Max, who was standing nearby, a mix of anticipation and amusement on his face.

"Hey, Max," you began, a playful glint in your eye. "How does it feel to be the most compatible drivers on the grid?"

Max's eyes widened slightly at the phrase "most compatible," and you could see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. But as soon as he processed the word "driver," his expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.

"It feels nice, I guess," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Just another thing to brag about to Lando, right?"

You chuckled, knowing how much Max loved to tease his fellow drivers. "Oh, absolutely! I can already picture it—Lando rolling his eyes while you go on about how you and I are the ultimate duo."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "He'll probably come up with some ridiculous comeback, like how he’s the best driver in the world or something."

"Well, he does have a knack for that," you said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the banter. "But let’s be honest, you two are like an old married couple. Always bickering but secretly caring for each other."

Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I can barely handle my own sleeping schedule!"

Max shrugged, a hint of humility creeping into his demeanor. "But honestly, having you around makes it easier. You bring a different energy to the team."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot coming from you. I think we balance each other out pretty well."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, it’s like we have this unspoken understanding. You know when to push me and when to let me breathe. It’s refreshing."

"Exactly! And it’s not just about racing; it’s about the camaraderie we build off the track too. Those late-night strategy sessions and the random moments of laughter—they all add up."

Max chuckled, recalling a particularly ridiculous moment from a previous race weekend. "Remember that time we got lost trying to find the catering tent? We ended up in that random fan zone instead!"

You burst out laughing, the memory flooding back. "Oh my god, yes! And those fans were so excited to see us, they thought we were there for a meet-and-greet! We ended up taking selfies with them for an hour."

"Right? And then we finally found the catering tent, only to discover they were out of your favorite pasta!" Max added, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That was a tragedy," you said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "But it turned into one of the best days. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything."

Max’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a genuine smile breaking through. "Me neither. It’s those little things that make all the hard work worth it."

You both stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the camaraderie between you palpable. The atmosphere around the paddock buzzed with activity, but in that moment, it felt like you were in your own little world.

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Max said, breaking the moment with a playful nudge. "Let’s get back to business. We’ve got a race to prepare for, and I can’t let you steal all my glory."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Oh, please! You know I’m just here to make you look good. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing the reigning champion."

What you two didn't know was that the cameras didn't stop but recorded your little moment, which went viral in the few minutes that it was posted. . . . .

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You knew that the public would start shipping you and Max together sooner or later but you weren't bothered with it.

You had a boyfriend who you cared for deeply, someone who had been your rock through the ups and downs of your racing career. Yet, his reaction to the swirling rumors about you and Max took you by surprise.

You never imagined he would be so affected by the gossip that seemed to spread like wildfire through the paddock and beyond.

Here you were, caught in a web of emotions, torn between the thrill of a new chapter and the loyalty you felt towards your current relationship.

As you stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your shared space enveloped you, but it did little to ease the tension that hung in the air.

You found Jake lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and you could sense that something was off.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight on your shoulders. He barely looked up, his fingers scrolling furiously, as if searching for answers in the digital chaos.

“Did you hear about you and Max?” he finally snapped, his voice laced with irritation, cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s all over social media. Are you really going to let this get to you?”

You felt your heart sink; you had hoped for a different reaction, one that would reassure you that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the storm of rumors.

“Come on, it’s just rumors,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor in it betrayed your inner turmoil. “You know I’m committed to only you.”

You watched as he shot you a skeptical glance, his jealousy bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. “Yeah, but how can I trust you when you’re out there with him all the time? It’s not just a coincidence that everyone is talking about it.”

The words stung, and you took a deep breath. "Babe I love only you-"

"Please, don’t even think about it! You know I’m stuck here because if I walked away, your fans would make my life a living nightmare," Jake exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling from the harsh reality of your situation.

It was as if he had taken a knife and twisted it, exposing the raw vulnerability you had tried so hard to hide.

You could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you could sense the tension between you growing thicker by the second. It was a battle of emotions, and you were losing ground.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it’s not fair, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, my fans. I can’t let them down."

His eyes softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the man you fell in love with.

"But I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we find a way to make this work?" You pleaded.

"I don't know," he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his phone before standing up and walking past you to get his coat and shoes. "i'm gonna take a walk,"

This has been a pattern for weeks now. You would come home, he would start an argument then make up an excuse to leave the house, leaving you to either pick up his mess or go to sleep without your partner. To only wake up with him cuddling you in the morning and apologise for his action last night.

You were getting sick of it but you still love him too much to break up with him. . . .

The days that followed were a blur of introspection and emotional turmoil. Each time you caught a glimpse of Jake’s name on your phone, a knot formed in your stomach.

You had always been the type to see the good in people, to believe that love could conquer all, but the reality of your situation was becoming harder to ignore.

The moments of tenderness were overshadowed by the growing unease that settled in your chest like a heavy stone.

You spent more time with Sarah, who seemed to sense your internal struggle. She filled your days with laughter and distraction, taking you out for coffee, long walks in the park, and movie marathons that kept your mind off the impending decision.

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the thought of Jake lingered like a shadow, reminding you of the grip he had on your heart—and not in a way that felt safe or loving.

One evening, as you and Sarah sat on the balcony watching the sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, she turned to you again.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but you have to prioritize your happiness. You can’t keep living in this limbo," she said, her voice steady and unwavering.

You looked out at the horizon, the beauty of the moment contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you.

"I know," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "But what if I’m wrong? What if he really can change?"

The fear of making the wrong choice loomed large, a specter that haunted your thoughts.

"Change is possible, but it has to come from him, not from you hoping for it," Sarah said gently. "You can’t be the one to fix him. You’re not responsible for his happiness or his growth. You deserve to be with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You thought back to the last time he had gripped your arm, the way his eyes had darkened, and how you had brushed it off as a moment of frustration.

But now, in the light of day, you could see it for what it was—a warning sign that you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

That night, as you lay in bed, the silence of your room felt deafening. You replayed every moment of your relationship, the good and the bad, and slowly, the scales began to tip.

The holiday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and soon you found yourself stepping into the paddock alongside Sarah and Jake.

As you walked, you could feel the tension in the air; Jake wore a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, gripping your hand a little too tightly.

“Hey, look at all the fans!” you exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as you waved enthusiastically at the crowd, signing autographs for those who called out your name.

Sarah, taking a break from her hectic job, had decided to join you, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the bustling atmosphere.

“Isn’t this amazing?” you said, glancing at Sarah, who was snapping pictures with her phone. “I can’t believe how many people came out today!”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s like a mini-celebration! But where’s your boyfriend? He seems a bit off today.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the concern. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just tired. We haven’t really talked much since we got back.”

You stole a glance at him, who was still smiling, but it felt forced, like he was putting on a show for everyone around.

You made the decision to invite Jake into your driver’s room for a heart-to-heart conversation. As you settled into the familiar space, you turned to him with a gentle concern.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Jake looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and longing, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m alright, really. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” he replied, his tone sincere.

In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth; you had missed the comfort of his touch more than you realized.

“Jake, I need to let you know that I have to leave soon,” you murmured, trying to keep the conversation grounded. But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“Why don’t you just quit your job already? I can take care of you, I promise,” he suggested, his voice dripping with temptation.

The idea hung in the air between you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his offer.

It was tempting, but the passion you had for Formula 1 was a flame that burned too brightly to extinguish for anyone, even someone as captivating as Jake.

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “Jake, you know how much this means to me. Formula 1 isn’t just a job; it’s my dream,” you replied, your heart heavy with the conflict.

He stepped back slightly, his expression shifting from desire to disappointment. “I get it, but can’t you see how much I care about you? I want us to be together, and I thought you felt the same way,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and it pained you to know that your passion for racing was creating a rift between you.

“I do care about you, but I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve worked for,” you insisted, hoping he would understand.

As you stand there, the tension weighs heavily in the air, palpable and thick, as Jake's frustration spills over, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and desperation.

"But what about me?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer that you know is difficult to provide. "Since you started this job, we haven’t done anything together. All you've been doing is hanging out with that Max boy. Don’t you see it?"

His words cut through the silence, piercing the surface of your mind and forcing you to confront the tangled web of your life that feels all too overwhelming at this moment.

As you gather your thoughts, aware that the job has transformed your priorities and the once-familiar relationship with Jake has shifted, you attempt to articulate your feelings, to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding.

"Jake—" you start, your voice tremulous, hoping to weave a delicate thread of connection that can pull you both back to a place of understanding, but he interjects, the intensity of his emotions propelling him forward before you can offer your perspective.

"I’ll show you—don't worry," he mutters, the frustration lacing his tone beginning to dissipate as he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a gesture that is both protective and possessive.

The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the bond you once cherished.

Feeling the urgency of the moment, his lips find yours, a kiss that ignites a flicker of hope amid the turmoil of doubt and fear swirling around you. . . .

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After the holiday break, you had started to act differently, almost as if a shadow had fallen over their usual camaraderie.

Whenever he approached to nudge her shoulder playfully, she would flinch, a look of surprise crossing her face as if she were bracing for something unpleasant.

It was a stark contrast to the easygoing banter they once shared, and he couldn't help but notice how she had become more withdrawn, often lost in her thoughts, her laughter replaced by a distant gaze.

He believed you were feeling down because the team was struggling to achieve the results they had hoped for.

Typically, his father would reach out to him after a disappointing race, sometimes even resorting to physical punishment if the outcome was particularly disheartening.

It was a routine he had come to accept, thinking it was a common experience shared by many.

However, everything changed when his therapist pointed out that not everyone endured such treatment, which sparked a rebellion within him against his father's harsh ways.

"Why do you always have to be so hard on me?" he had shouted one evening, frustration boiling over.

His father, taken aback, responded with a stern look, "Because I want you to be the best, Max. You need to learn that life isn’t always fair."

But Max felt differently; he wanted to be supported, not punished.

As he pondered your situation, he couldn't help but wonder if you had faced similar challenges.

"Do you have someone in your life who treats you badly?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge your response.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question before you shook your head, a small smile breaking through the clouds of doubt.

"No, not like that. Everyone is really supportive of me these days."

Max felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that you had not been in that cycle of abuse he had been so familiar with.

In many of the recent races, both you and Max found yourselves finishing in the P2 to P4 range, or sometimes not making it to the podium at all, which left the team feeling quite disheartened.

The once-promising season had turned into a series of missed opportunities, and the weight of expectations began to take its toll on everyone involved.

The atmosphere in the garage was thick with tension, and the engineers were working overtime to analyze data and strategize for the next race, but the results were still falling short of what the team had hoped for.

This situation also prompted Max's father, Jos, to plan a visit during the race weekend. He intended to check in on his son and perhaps give him a much-needed reality check, quite literally.

As the race day approached, Jos observed his son engaging in cheerful conversation with you, rather than focusing on the engineers to gather crucial insights, a routine Max typically adhered to before a race.

This deviation from his usual pre-race preparation did not sit well with Jos.

He had always believed that the hours leading up to a race were critical for mental conditioning and strategy formulation. To see Max laughing and joking instead of poring over telemetry data or discussing race strategies with the engineers was concerning for him.

Jos's frustration grew as he watched the interaction unfold. He believed that your presence was a distraction, pulling Max away from the intense focus required for peak performance.

In his eyes, the bond you shared with his son was undermining Max's potential to excel on the track.

He felt that friendships weren't important and they should not come at the expense of Max's dedication to his craft.

Jos was determined to address this issue head-on, convinced that a serious conversation was necessary to realign Max's priorities. . . . .

In the midst of a lively discussion filled with laughter and camaraderie, Jos abruptly interjected, "Max, I need to talk to you right now."

His tone cut through the jovial atmosphere, drawing the attention of both you and his son. The laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene.

Max's expression shifted from joy to disappointment as he glanced at you, yet he managed to offer a reassuring smile before reluctantly following his father away from the group.

"Yes, Father?" Max responded in Dutch, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The way he spoke suggested a mix of respect and wariness, as if he were bracing himself for a conversation he knew would be anything but easy.

Jos wasted no time in launching into his concerns, his words spilling out with a sense of urgency.

"You must distance yourself from that girl; she is a distraction that will hinder your performance in the race," he asserted, his tone firm and authoritative, as if he were delivering a decree rather than a request.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the lightheartedness that had just moments ago enveloped the gathering.

Max, however, was quick to defend you, his loyalty evident in the way he stood a little taller, his brow furrowing in determination. "No, she doesn't distract me, Father. She's my teammate," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.

The conviction in his tone reflected a bond that transcended mere friendship; it was a partnership built on shared goals and mutual respect.

Yet, as he spoke, the tension between father and son thickened, a palpable clash of wills that seemed to reverberate through the quiet space around them.

Jos, sensing the resistance in Max's voice, shifted his approach, employing subtle manipulation to sway his son’s perspective.

"Think about your future, Max. You have so much potential, and I only want what is best for you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to appeal to Max's aspirations.

The words were carefully chosen, designed to instill doubt about your influence, to paint you as an obstacle rather than an ally.

Max hesitated, caught between his father's expectations and his own feelings.

The internal struggle was evident on his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he grappled with the conflicting loyalties that tugged at his heart.

"It is evident in your results over the weeks, you've been falling off the high scores recently, hardly been able to reach third place because of that girl!" Jos stressed out and Max became quiet, letting those words sink in.

"Max, think about it," Jos continued, his tone shifting to one of persuasion. "You need to focus on your game and not let distractions get in the way. She's not worth it."

Max felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had always admired his father's wisdom, but now he sensed a subtle manipulation at play. Jos was trying to steer him away from his feelings, and deep down, Max knew it.

Yet, the idea of disappointing his father loomed larger than his own desires.

"Okay, Father," Max finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt a pang of regret as he agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing a part of himself in the process. As he walked away, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

Was it worth sacrificing his happiness for the sake of competition?

As he walked away, the sound of his father's footsteps fading behind him, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

The internal struggle was just beginning, and Max knew he had to find a way to balance his passion for the game with the complexities of his heart.

He thought of you—the woman who had sparked something within him, a light that had ignited a warmth he hadn't been able to feel like Daniel left.

After he began to distance himself from you, he noticed a change in your demeanor.

You seemed more withdrawn, putting on a facade of happiness with a constant smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding behind long-sleeved coats, even in the warm weather, creating a barrier between yourself and the world around you.

The vibrant laughter that once filled the air when you were together had been replaced by a silence that hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the occasional forced chuckle or polite nod.

Max could see the way your shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of unspoken words and unshared feelings was pressing down on you.

Your eyes, once bright with enthusiasm and mischief, now seemed clouded, reflecting a deep-seated sadness that you tried so hard to conceal.

He remembered the long pointless conversations, the dreams you both had shared, and the plans that now felt like distant memories. It pained him to witness your struggle, yet he felt powerless to bridge the growing chasm between you.

Despite the guilt that gnawed at him, Max couldn’t help but recognize a shift in his own performance on the racetrack.

He found himself consistently finishing on the podium, a stark contrast to your struggles as you remained trapped within the top ten.

Each trophy he lifted felt heavier than the last, a reminder of the friendship that had once fueled his passion for racing.

He could hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was how you used to be there, celebrating alongside him, your face alight with pride and joy.

While he celebrated his achievements, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.

The camaraderie they once shared seemed to slip further away with each passing race, leaving him to wonder if the price of success was worth the cost of their connection.

He often found himself glancing over at the empty spot in the pit where you used to stand, your eyes sparkling with encouragement, your voice ringing out with advice that had always kept him grounded.

As the races continued, Max felt a growing urgency to reach out, to break through the walls you had built around yourself.

But his father kept him grounded and not letting that thought come to life anytime soon. . . .

As you maneuver through the winding turns of the racetrack, adrenaline surges through your veins, a heady blend of focus and exhilaration.

"Joseph, what's the gap to Max?" you inquire, your voice steady despite the chaos enveloping you as you glance at the rearview mirror, noticing Charles's fierce pursuit as he falls into your peripheral vision, momentarily eclipsed by your recent strategic overtaking maneuver.

"2.3 seconds in front of you, Y/N," Joseph replies, his tone equally crisp yet slightly strained, hinting at the intensity of the moment.

The hum of the engine, the vibrations of the car, and the distant roar of the crowd blend into a symphony of speed, and as you negotiate the track, your mind sharpens with determination.

You consider your next move with meticulous care, knowing that a split-second decision could alter the course of the race.

Holding tightly to the steering wheel, you then ask, “Do I have permission to take over?”

Pause hangs in the air like a fragile breath, and you can almost anticipate Joseph's reply, especially given the longstanding tradition wherein hesitance often blankets these life-altering decisions.

Sure enough, after a fleeting silence, you prepare for the inevitable response that would echo in your ears like an unwelcome refrain, one you were all too familiar with.

But just as you brace yourself for a “no,” the radio crackles to life again—this time with a tidal wave of unexpected urgency.

"Yes! Y/N? Can you hear me? The team has approved the overtake of Max! Go for it!" Joseph’s voice bursts through with a burst of energy, jolting you from your reverie.

Instinctively, your foot plunges onto the accelerator as you channel every ounce of skill, focus, and ambition into propelling yourself forward.

You swiftly navigate the corner, your car gliding through the air like a bird released from captivity, and in that moment of pure adrenaline, you find yourself eclipsing Max, reclaiming the lead with undeniable ferocity.

As you settle into your newfound position at first place, the tension morphs into an exhilarating electrification coursing through your body.

Max, having momentarily lost his grip on the lead, now battles to fend off Charles and Lando from making any hazardous moves that might threaten your dominion at the front.

In the heat of the moment, the radio blaring with strategic updates fades into the background as your vision narrows solely on the track ahead—you are a race car driver, a gladiator in this battle of speed, and nothing else matters.

The world dissolves into monochrome, your focus unwavering as you grip the wheel like it’s a lifeline.

Distant cheers from the crowd seep through your concentration, yet you silence those voices, drowning out distractions as you become acutely aware of the weight of the race, the dreams that hang delicately in the balance—everything is at stake.

You feel sweat trickling down your temple and a syrupy mix of anticipation and fear soaring through your chest, but as you approach the final laps, triumph struggles to emerge from the depths of your hardwork.

Amidst the exhilarating distractions, your attention sharpens when you catch a faint echo of Joseph’s voice cutting through the chatter. "Y/N! You did it! You won!"

The joyous eruption on the other end floods your senses with disbelief, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you.

In that electrifying moment, as you maintain your grip on the wheel for the last few seconds, reality begins to wash over you like an exhilarating wave, and the tears you could feel brewing now threaten to spill, your triumph intertwining with your vulnerability.

With the checkered flag waving triumphantly in the air, you ease down on the accelerator, the sensation of victory swelling inside you as you let a muffled cry of delight escape your lips.

You slow your car and finally breathe, releasing all the pent-up energy, as the realization of your success resonates in every fiber of your being.

"You did it, Y/N! You won the grand prix!" Joseph's voice dances through the radio, resonating with an infectious glee.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and for the first time, the roar of the crowd—a melodic blend of cheers—warms your heart.

As you roll to a stop, the world around you crescendos into a celebration of your harrowing journey—each twist, each turn, each heartbeat racing in sync with the rhythm of victory.

The moment is surreal, and as you step out of the car, you are not just a racer anymore; you are a triumphant force that turned dreams into reality, and no title could encapsulate the pride swelling within you.

You parked the car in front of the first-place stand, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a moment to absorb the victory that had just unfolded; it was surreal, almost like a scene plucked from your wildest dreams.

You stood on the hood of your car, exhilaration bubbling up inside you as you raised your fists in triumph, thrusting them into the air with a euphoric fist bump that echoed your unrestrained joy.

The cheers of the crowd swirled around you, a chorus of celebration, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it paused in honour of your hard-fought achievement.

The weight of every early morning, every late night, every moment spent honing your driving in the shadows now seemed beautifully light, overshadowed by the sheer thrill of the moment.

As you jumped off the car with a renewed sense of vitality, you sprinted toward your team, their faces lit up with genuine happiness.

It marked a pivotal moment, one where they no longer treated you as fragile or merely a woman in a male-dominated sport; instead, they embraced you like a teammate, a winner.

You felt the warmth of their hugs wrapping around you, their joy infectious in a way that washed away any lingering doubts you had ever held about your place in this fierce and demanding environment.

“I can’t believe we did it!” you exclaimed, looking around at their beaming faces, heart swelling.

Some laughing tears glistening in their eyes, as they crowded around you, lifting you momentarily off your feet, celebrating not only your victory but the growth of a team bound together by perseverance and shared dreams.

Max eventually pulled up in front of the second-place station, his car’s engine rumbling to a soft stop just a few feet away from you. He stepped out, the sunlight catching the edges of his helmet as he removed it, revealing a look of pure delight plastered across his face.

It was a sight that brightened your heart; his genuine smile mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the fierce competition that had just transpired on the track.

You could hardly control the emotions that swelled within you. With an impulsive rush, you charged toward him, unable to contain the joy of your victory.

In a flurry of excitement, you leaped into his arms, a spontaneous act born from the adrenaline still dancing through your body. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cradling your back protectively, and in that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.

“I won!" you declared, breathless, your voice a mixture of disbelief and sheer happiness, as if saying it out loud might make the victory feel more real.

A grin split Max's face wider, and you could see the pride sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, you won! Congratulations!" he echoed, his voice turning melodic with the thrill of your accomplishment.

His embrace tightened around you, and you melted into the moment, filled with a sense of camaraderie and respect that had blossomed between you two over the course of your racing journeys.

As he set you back on your feet, laughter bubbled up once again, infectious and wildly free.

"I hope I didn't catch you off guard with that leap," you admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice as you took a sip from your drink.

"Not at all! I’m just thrilled for you," Max replied, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he gave you a friendly pat on the back.

After the interview with the top three winners, you, Max, and Charles settled into the conference room, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the race replay flickered on the screen. The tension was palpable as the footage captured the thrilling moments of the competition.

"Wow! That was such a turn!" Charles exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, clearly still feeling the adrenaline from the race.

He was referring to the intense maneuver where he nearly overtook Lando, a moment that had everyone on the edge of their seats.

As the race continued to unfold on the screen, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind racing with the events that had just transpired.

You focused on your breathing, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You had actually won.

Max, sitting beside you, noticed your silence and turned his attention toward you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked softly, breaking the tension in the room. His voice was steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the race replay.

You nodded slowly, appreciating Max's concern but still feeling the weight of the moment. "Yeah, just processing everything," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

After the conference wrapped up, the divers were given the freedom to either retreat to their driver’s rooms or celebrate with their teams and families.

However, the atmosphere was tinged with concern. The race winner was notably absent, and everyone had been eagerly anticipating a celebration for your first victory.

But after you dashed out of the conference room in a flurry, you seemed to vanish without a trace.

Everyone, especially Max, who had reached out to congratulate you repeatedly, was waiting, eager for you to join them in the festivities.

Max had noticed your absence almost immediately after the conference ended. The smile that had danced on his lips dimmed when you didn't join the team to celebrate; he frequently glanced toward the driver’s room, a sense of unease gnawing at his gut.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern deepened; it wasn't like you to shy away from such moments of triumph.

As teammates and family began to cheer and revel in the evening's wins, Max made the decision to search for you.

His quest took him to the paddock and then to your garage, but each passing minute only heightened his worries. "Where could you be, Y/N?" he murmured to himself, frustration lacing his voice as he traversed the familiar paths of the circuit, searching desperately for a glimpse of you.

His heart raced with anxiety; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, his gaze landed on the door of your driver's room, slightly ajar, like a whisper beckoning him to enter. Without a second thought, he approached and knocked gently, "Y/N, are you in there?"

Listening intently, he leaned closer to the door and was met with faint whimpers that sent a chill down his spine.

Panic surged through him.

This wasn’t just a moment of celebration for you; it felt like a cry for help, echoing through the cold corridor.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open wider, bracing himself for whatever he might find—though nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when the door creaked open.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare; your so-called boyfriend stood menacingly above you, his hand raised as if poised to strike, while your frail form displayed clear signs of distress—your face bruised, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as he took stock of the situation, the cruel contrast of celebration outside and the terrifying reality inside your room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Max's voice cut through the air, laced with fury as he stepped into the room, instinctively placing himself between you and the looming threat.

In that instant, your boyfriend's grip on your collar slackened, surprise washing over his features as he turned to face Max.

“Stay out of this, Max! This has nothing to do with you,” your boyfriend snarled, his bravado faltering under the sudden scrutiny.

But Max remained steadfast, stepping closer, his presence commanding as he glared at the man who had dared to raise a hand against you.

“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with me. Y/N is my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her,” he replied, his voice steady yet filled with palpable tension.

Your eyes met Max's, a flicker of hope igniting amidst despair, and despite everything, the warmth of that friendship washed over you.

Max's voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and urgency. "You need to leave now!" he shouted, his eyes locked onto your boyfriend, who stood there with clenched fists and a scowl that could cut glass.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice through. Your boyfriend hesitated, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but something in Max's tone made him reconsider.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment. "I’ll go, but this isn’t over."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving you and Max in a heavy silence.

“Max, please…” you managed to choke out, your voice hoarse as the fear and pain slowly ebbed. “I just…I just wanted to celebrate, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought…”

Your voice faltered as the tears resumed their steady flow. Max's gaze softened as he turned back to you, the protective barrier he had formed in front of you embodying more than just physical defense.

“You can trust me, Y/N,” he said firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern.

With Max's unwavering support behind you, the resolve within you began to build.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, but a hint of strength colored your tone.

[atinycafe]

I NEED HONGJOONG AND A READER WHO'S IN SUBPSACE FOR THE FIRST TIME, HOW WOULD THE AFTERCARE GO (its okay if u dont write for that, you can just ignore my request <3)

warnings: nsfw under the cut, dom!hongjoong, slight dumbification, sub space, use of pet names (pretty, baby, babydoll, sweet girl), protected sex (yay!!!), soft sex, doggy style, 0.9k wrds author's notes: im not uncomfy but im just not very into it so i have no idea if what i wrote acc is enjoyable to people j,ndfcgvh, and also the fact that idk anything about the kink, so this whole thing might be wayyy off topic masterlist

the sea sparkles brightly as the waves sway in a mesmerizing dance. you can hear the gentle sounds of the sea ebbing and flowing against the sandy shore. soft light spills into your summer house, illuminating it, while the balcony is open, allowing the ethereal white curtains to sway in the breeze.

you would coo at the little crabs if you could, as they reveal themselves on the shore. however, the insistent pounding noise behind you forces you to roll your eyes, blurring your vision. cries escape your lips as his hands settle on the small of your back, causing you to arch involuntarily. pressed onto the bed, your hands stretch out in front of you, grasping at nothing, your forearms hovering out of the mattress.

hongjoong's thighs slap against yours, propelling you forward with each motion. he's intense, his painted fingertips exerting firm pressure on your skin, leaving marks behind.

"my pretty baby," he sighs, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. his gaze remains fixated on the way your ass moves on his. biting his bottom lip, he suppresses his moans, not wanting to drown out your sweet whimpers. those whimpers, so delightful, drive him to thrust harder, fueled by pure desire. "you're so good for me, so adorable. i love you so, so much. do you love me, babydoll?"

it takes a moment for the question to register as you melt under his touch, but you manage to slurr out a response, "love you too," causing him to moan aloud. he smiles, enchanted by the slow pitch of your voice, finding you utterly endearing.

"good girl, always listening to me, takin' me so well, so good," he mumbles, feeling his climax building. he senses yours approaching too, as you tremble and writhe, succumbing to a mere state of wet neediness beneath him. "are you close, pretty? i can feel your pussy suckin' me in. such a greedy girl."

simultaneously, you both reach the peak of pleasure, your bodies giving in to exhaustion. you would slump onto the bed, were it not for hongjoong's strong hold on your waist. he withdraws, quickly discarding the condom, tying it off and tossing it aside. he turns you around, carefully examining your face with tender concern shining in his eyes.

immediately, he notices the dazed look in your eyes, your pupils fully dilated, and the post-orgasmic haze reminds him of his past experiences with ex-partners and their subdrop. he never expected it from you. your relationship has been going well for the past six months, the sex relatively vanilla, but hongjoong doesn't mind. not when you look so irresistibly cute beneath him. your inexperience led him to tread lightly with his more dominant side, but it came naturally to him, and unconsciously, you submit to him during intimacy. so, when he sees that familiar unfocused gaze, his body instinctively reacts.

"baby, look at me," he leans in, positioning his face right in front of yours. you offer him a lazy smile, playfully scrunching your nose, and he reciprocates with a gentle smile. "how do you feel, babydoll?"

you mumble something inaudible, attempting to provide an answer. anything will do when your tongue feels too heavy, too clumsy, too uncoordinated in your mouth. you blink slowly, the contact of his hand against your forehead creating a warm, fuzzy sensation in your brain. it blurs the periphery of your vision, allowing you to focus solely on his pretty face.

he's smiling, his teeth gleaming brightly. they seem sharp in the golden light. you feel like you're floating, detached from your own body, much like when the alcohol becomes too much. in both scenarios, hongjoong is always there to ground you.

"can't use your voice right now mmh pretty, tongue feels heavy huh," he remarks knowingly, and your eyes gradually widen as the information seeps into your brain, wondering how he knows. he smiles at your expression and murmurs a soft "cute."

"baby i need to clean you up, can i go get the towels," he asks, adjusting the pace of his words, ensuring they align with your clouded mind's comprehension. you take your time to process, your thoughts still hazy and elusive. but when you realize that his suggestion involves him leaving you alone, even for a minute, a visible sadness etches itself onto your face. you manage to release a small whimper before he soothes you with a hushing sound.

his voice lowers, deep and resonant, as he whispers promises of not leaving you alone. he settles down beside you, his arm forming a comfortable support under his head, and draws you into his embrace for cuddling. he guides your head to rest on his bare chest, the stickiness of your sweaty skin unimportant to either of you. you begin to feel drowsy, but you still crave his attention. so, you maneuver your head to get a glimpse of his face, only to find his chin in your view.

sensing your gaze on him, he tilts his head down until your droopy eyes meet his, shimmering with light. a smile forms on his lips as he raises his eyebrows, questioning you wordlessly. he runs his free hand through your hair, gently massaging your scalp, as if coaxing your brain back into action.

you open your mouth, but no words emerge, and hongjoong can't help but coo at your slightly frustrated expression. he leans closer, his lips descending upon yours, delivering a tender kiss, while softly suckling your bottom lip.

"my sweet girl, fucked you so hard you forgot how to speak."

[wisteria-prompts]

Thank you so much for doing my request it was so cute and I absolutely loved it. If it’s okay please could I ask for the same premise but with the upper moons 💙💙💙

*-Cracks Knuckles-* This is a tall order and I’m short as hell, time to climb.

TW for: Mentions of gore (Aizetsu), murder (Douma), and blood (Aizetsu/Douma)

Upper Moons Kissing Their Crush For The First Time

Akaza

The most gentleman-like out of all of them, and the softest with you.

Probably does it right after returning from a mission, but is more likely to do it if the mission is a success.

He confesses not with words, but with a kiss.

It’s a quick one, but it leaves you feeling breathless with how he poured every ounce of his feelings for you into it. His lips are cold, but it creates a delicious contrast between you two that has you wanting more.

His hands are barely touching you, afraid of not knowing his own strength.

You could feel just from his lips alone that he cared so much for you that it hurt, and he’d do anything to keep you safe.

“No matter if you feel the same or not, I will always protect you.”

He won’t let a loved one die in his arms again.

Douma

An absolute tease, you almost have to beg him to be normal for once…

Will do it on a whim, no rhyme or reason to it. He’s equally as likely to confess and kiss you anywhere, anytime. In front of his cult, while murdering some slayers, even while attending an Upper Moon meeting…

Yeah, Muzan wouldn’t be too amused by that one. It’s up to you to kind of steer or influence when and where he does it.

A little rough with the kiss, he does it after pulling you to sit in his lap, making sure to have a good grip on your hips so you can’t escape.

Not afraid to nick your lips with his fangs, as he enjoys the sight of your blood, the taste of you on his tongue…

“Well well, seems you’ve caught my attention, little one. Mind entertaining me for a bit?”

He won’t admit it’s more than just amusement fueling his actions.

Daki

You infuriate her with how you won’t get out of her head!

It’s just as infuriating how she can’t stop staring at your lips, wondering what you’d taste like.

She does it while still disguised as an oiran, you acting as her loyal attendant, during one of her less busy hours.

Practically pulls you to her by the arm and kisses you forcefully, pouring all her frustrations into it.

It’s rough, unpracticed, and maybe a little nervous. She prides herself on her image, being poised at all times, along with the years of experience she has under her obi belt. But when it comes to you? She falls apart.

You’ve picked apart her meticulously created self, and reconstructed her into someone who needs you so much it’s laughable.

“You…You better take responsibility for this. Make up for what you’ve made me do.”

Her words may imply that you owe her for tainting that image of hers, but really, she just wants you close.

Gyutaro

Voted least likely to ever confess his feelings. He’d rather fight all 9 Hashira at once than admit he likes you.

As always, it’s fueled by his sheer amount of insecurities and envy. He can’t fathom a universe where you’re interested in him like that, and so he refrains from so much as just hinting at his feelings for you.

It comes to light when Daki has had enough of all the pining and longing stares, and calls him out on it in front of you.

He freezes, doesn’t know what to do- until you reciprocate his feelings, admitting you’d always found him kind of cute.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re on, but…I’m not going to waste this.”

His lips are chapped, he’s got your head in a death grip, and he’s so tall you have to crane your neck a little too far back than is comfortable-

But it’s good, it’s enjoyable, and now you’re his forever. He makes sure to let you know as much.

He won’t let a diamond such as you go, now that he has you in his arms.

Kokushibo

He’d thought pursuits of the romantic kind were beneath him for a long time, ever since he turned his back on his wife and children all those years ago.

But you threw him for a loop, and suddenly, he’s finding himself becoming a romantic all over again.

Almost certainly plans the confessing and first kiss, a little too much to be honest. He just needs it to be perfect, for both you and him.

You’re led through the infinity castle by an elaborate trail of flower petals and candles, ending at his room.

He gives you a rehearsed speech of how you make him feel every day, how you linger in his mind all the time, and how he craves your presence.

“There is no one else worthy…of staying by my side. The only option…Is you.”

When you accept, he seals it with a kiss.

It’s deep, slow, and feels like it burns with passion. He’s surprisingly warm, for being a demon, but it’s pleasant.

You are his moonlight, who will accompany him for all eternity.

Sekido

It happens spontaneously, during one of his fits of rage.

You’re simply a bystander, there because you just…Always are. You’re always in his vicinity, playing a part in his day that he can’t help but reminisce about when alone.

He quickly tires of the pangs inside his chest when he looks at you, becoming infuriated when you smile so kindly at him, trying to calm him down.

It’s unceremonious, how he smashes his lips to yours just then, teeth clashing as he releases all his anger and raw emotion into the kiss.

As unexpected as it is, there is no doubt in your mind what he feels for you is real and genuine. He’s not the type to do this sort of thing, so take advantage of it when you can.

“You damn human…How dare you make me feel these things! What have you done to me?!”

You’re going to have to show him how to be gentle, because you’re the only one he’ll try for.

Urogi

He has plenty of places and ways he wants to kiss you, while singing to the world of his feelings for you.

But his favorite, that he reserves the very first kiss for, is the nest he’s built up in a tree

The only people who know it even exists are you and Urogi himself. He’s given you special privileges, so don’t take it lightly.

During one of the many times he flies you up there to hang out, he seems a lot more touchy and clingy than usual…But you brush it off, assuming it’s just Urogi being Urogi.

It’s not. He’s trying to butter you up, get on your good side before-

“Hey, you know you’re important to me, right? Am I important to you, too?”

Before you can even answer, his lips are on yours. It’s an eager kiss, and he feels almost…Desperate, for you to return the sentiment. As if he’s afraid you’ll reject him.

He really wants your love, and he’ll be ruffling his feathers non-stop the moment you say, of course he’s important to you.

You’re his lovebird, after all.

Karaku

He’s been trying for months to get you to take him seriously.

Honestly, it gets a little pathetic at certain points- He’s trying so hard to convey to you how much you’re on his mind, in his heart, and everywhere else in his life but it’s just not working.

You’re so used to his flirty and provocative behavior that it just rolls right off your back. You think he’s playing the same game he’s been playing since the first time he split off from Hantengu.

He’s frustrated, understandably so, to the point that he ends up taking you by the shoulders one night and plants a kiss on your lips so passionate and heated, that there’s no choice but for you to recognize his feelings.

By the time he pulls away, he’s the one that looks flustered and taken apart at the seams.

“J-just so you know…I really meant that. I like you. No games.”

A huge wave of relief comes over him when you finally accept him as he is.

He’s a demon of pleasure, and there is no greater pleasure than being yours.

Aizetsu

Another one who wouldn’t just simply confess to you. At least not through words.

He’s bound by endless sorrow- In addition to being unable to believe you love him, he also just doesn’t want to drag you down into this dark, negative world of his.

And yet…

And yet he finds himself holding you tightly, right after slaughtering a demon slayer who came much too close to taking you away from him.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

He says, just before giving you the softest of kisses, hands gently holding your cheeks.

It’s feather-light, slow, almost hesitant. Just like him. Yet it’s also saying everything he’s ever wanted to say, but couldn’t.

It would be an incredibly sweet scene if not for the backdrop of blood and viscera around you two.

When you return the kiss, he supposes he won’t have to be both sad and alone anymore.

[taste-your-silhouette]

I want to dance on your body

Pairings: Damiano David xfem!reader

Contents: smut 

Summary: You and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

Words: ~2192

A/N: Hi, hello and please, forgive me again if you come across any errors while reading. I recommend you to play Touch Me and just enjoying ✨

You and your best friend are strolling into the party of some badass celeb she knows, she's probably already mentioned the name a million times, but you ain't giving much of a damn, you just wanna hit up a party, grab a few drinks, and bust some moves. Have a blast and enjoy yourself!

As you and your friend make your way through the entrance, you exchange a sly grin while vibrant, trippy lights groove to the beat throughout the crib. Side by side, you advance towards the dance floor, and your friend chimes in:

"Alright, let's have a fucking blast tonight," she says with a grin, and a contagious smile spreads across your face as well.

You were both pumped for this party and ready to let loose and enjoy yourselves to the max.

In a split second, she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar, where a bunch of peeps are lining up, ordering their go-to drinks, all geared up to hit the dance floor again. You step up to the bartender and request your ultimate drink, downing it in a single gulp before quickly ordering another shot and doing it all over again.

The drink ignites a fire within you, fueling you with energy and liquid courage to fully embrace the moment, without a care in the world. No worries, just pure enjoyment.

You and your friend head straight to the dance floor, grooving together to the sick beats. But before long, someone swoops in and starts getting their groove on with her, leaving you to your own devices. No biggie though, it doesn't faze you one bit. You keep on dancing as if the music is pumping right through your veins.

Eyes closed, you immerse yourself in the moment, feeling the heat of someone's body swaying alongside yours. Whoever it is, they sense your awareness and since you don't brush them off, they casually rest their hand on your waist, getting even closer in their moves. Your ass is the only thing touching him as you dance with a touch of sensuality right there on the dance floor. The electricity builds up as you grind with this mysterious dancer behind you, sending tingles down your spine.

You both bust some moves together for three consecutive songs, and it's as if you're in perfect harmony. The dance isn't just about showing off or impressing each other; it's about creating something extraordinary between you.

As the beats thump on, you suddenly hear his voice whispering in your ear, "Finally, someone who's up for it." 

It tempts you to ask what he means, but you decide against it. You don't want to risk blurting out something silly and ruining the magical vibe of what just went down. So, you simply let the moment linger, cherishing the mystery and excitement that swirls around you.

You sense the hint of a smile against your cheek, and it elicits a light-hearted chuckle from you. It's best to leave it at that and keep relishing in the night's pleasures.

You turn your gaze towards him, even though the lights make it difficult to see his face clearly. Nevertheless, you can tell that he's undeniably attractive (and damn, he can dance like nobody's business).

It's time to get another drink!

As you reach the bar, you order another drink, but this time you savor it slowly, relishing every drop of that boozy sting as it glides down your throat. The flavors dance on your tongue, creating a delightful sensation.

Before you're about to leave the bar, the stranger appears by your side once more, placing an order for two drinks. Now, with a clearer view of his face, you can't help but smile as your gaze locks onto his handsome features.

He returns the smile and pops the question:

"Care for another drink?"

You nod in agreement, and with that, you both exchange proper introductions. Skipping the dance floor this time, you snag two primo seats at the bar, engaging in a conversation that flows as if you've been pals for ages.

Damiano and you have reached a level where you're familiar with the key aspects of each other's lives. It's not something you typically do, spilling your guts to strangers, but under the influence of alcohol and with the enchantment Damiano has cast upon you, it feels natural to engage in heartfelt conversation.

He suggests, "How about finding a more quiet spot?"

The idea resonates with you, and you nod in agreement, intrigued by the prospect of finding a quieter place where you can continue this magical connection.

You flash him a mischievous smile and take hold of his hand, leading him away from the lively dance floor and the bustling bar. As you pass through the living room, your eyes catch sight of numerous unoccupied couches, and you can't resist the temptation. You abruptly halt, tugging on his hand to bring him to a stop, and in a matter of seconds, both of you find yourselves sprawled out on one of the cozy couches.

Damiano's hands be all up in his waist as you're locking lips in a way that has both of you gasping for breath, but you don't give a damn. You feel Damiano's hands on your thighs, giving them a tight squeeze as you continue kissing you, and you let out a moan, trying to catch your breath and satisfy the intense desire he's been arousing in you since you started dancing together.

"Allright?" he asks you.

You nod eagerly, craving his touch on every inch of your body, as his hand traces a path from your thigh to your clit.

"Holy crap," you moan, overcome with pleasure.

He slid your underwear aside, skillfully rubbing your clit at a tantalizingly slow pace. The way he teased you was driving you wild. You rested your head on his shoulder, attempting to conceal your flushed face while muffling your moans as best you could.

"Oh fuck," you whispered, the pleasure intensifying as he increased his pace, making it even more challenging to stifle your cries.

"It's okay, let go. Everyone's too drunk to notice us," he playfully remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

His words gave you the permission you needed, and you couldn't help but release your moans. They weren't overly loud, but they would definitely catch the attention of anyone who wasn't lost in their own drunken haze.

"Good girl," he murmured into your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine.

The fire inside you burned hotter and hotter, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. All sense of shame vanished, replaced only by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"I'm close!" you moaned, your voice filled with desperate need. And just as you uttered those words, the climax washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

"That was... amazing," you whispered, still catching your breath from the intensity of the experience.

He hinted at taking the rendezvous to his hotel for more privacy, and you could sense the anticipation building. He stood up, extending his hand towards you, and you eagerly took it, rising to your feet. Adjusting your dress, you both made your way out of the bustling party.

Upon arriving at his hotel room, he opened the door slowly, pulling you inside. As you stepped into the room, your eyes took in the sight of scattered papers on the king-size bed. Being a singer in a band, it was no surprise that he had been busy writing songs, the creative process evident in the disarray around you.

"Will you write a song about tonight?" you asked, a hint of anticipation in your voice. As the door closed and clicked, Damiano wasted no time. He swiftly unbuttoned his white shirt, discarding it onto the dresser.

"Probably," he replied, his gaze fixed on you as he moved closer. With a deft hand, he skillfully removed your dress, casting it aside without a second thought. Now, standing before him in nothing but your underwear, you felt a surge of confidence.

His eyes tracing over your body, and he couldn't help but confess:

"You look... amazing." His voice dripped with admiration and desire, fueling the intensity of the moment.

He placed his hands firmly on your hips, just as he had done earlier, and leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You reciprocated, savoring the taste of his lips, and instinctively placed your hands on his face, deepening the connection between you.

Feeling the intensity between you both, he reached down and firmly gripped one of your legs, lifting it up and resting it on his hip. The sensation heightened, and you could feel him more intimately. With a surge of desire, he broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of lust and admiration and in a bold move, he swiftly switched his hold to your other thigh, lifting you effortlessly and pressing you against the wall. The rush of being carried and pinned against the solid surface added an exhilarating edge to the moment, intensifying the passion and desire that consumed you both.

You locked eyes with each other, the intensity building with each passing moment, until he couldn't resist any longer and leaned in to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. The room seemed to ignite with fervor as the kiss deepened, fueled by an overwhelming desire.

Both of you were breathless, your bodies craving more. With a sense of urgency, Damiano swept you off your feet and carried you to the edge of the bed, gently placing you there. He swiftly cleared the clutter of papers that had occupied the bed, letting them cascade to the floor, clearing the space for your intimate encounter.

As he turned his attention back to you, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. He leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper against your skin:

"You're so beautiful, you look like an angel." His hand caressed your face tenderly, tracing the contours with gentle affection.

You smirked mischievously, pulling him closer to you, your desire evident in your eyes. 

"I could say the same for you, but how about we go to heaven together?" You whispered seductively, your lips grazing his neck on her before playfully biting down.

In an instant, it seemed like something ignited within Damiano. He firmly gripped your neck, exerting a delicious control, and guided you down onto the bed. His lips trailed along your neck, seeking out your sweet spot, and when he found it, he indulged in it wildly. Leaving a trail of hickeys and bites in his wake for him, he marked you as his own for him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping it tightly as you let out soft moans of pleasure.

The intensity grew as Damiano skillfully removed your panties, unveiling your desires. The air crackled with anticipation as your bodies yearned for the connection that awaited them.

"Are you wet for me, huh?" He sensually bites his lip while locking eyes with you.

He moans in delight as he gently inserts his cock into your pussy, igniting waves of pleasure.

Bestowing upon you the most sublime ecstasy.

He moves his hips with deliberate grace, thrusting in and out, synchronizing your desires.

"Oh, fuck!" you passionately moan, your voice filled with pure bliss.

Damiano smirks, his confidence growing, and intensifies his rhythm, heightening your desire.

As you lose yourself in the throes of passion, your hand instinctively covers your mouth, but Damiano forcefully removes it, yearning to hear your euphoric symphony.

"No, I wanna hear you when you go to heaven, y/n," he whispers with fervor.

You affirm with a nod, surrendering to the divine pleasure that awaits you.

You moan Damiano's name as he intensifies the rhythm of his thrusts, causing your head to fall back onto his plush pillows.

"Oh, Damiano, I'm so close!" 

"Come, y/n, cum to me," he asserts, his voice laced with longing.

You struggle to hold back, determined to hear him plead, but his relentless stimulation of your spot makes it nearly impossible. The pleasure is simply too overwhelming.

"Come, y/n," Damiano groans, his voice filled with urgency.

You tighten your grip around him and succumb to the waves of ecstasy he elicits. As you reach the pinnacle of pleasure with him, he remains motionless, deeply embedded within you, his body collapsing onto yours, a resounding groan of your name escaping his lips.

The intensity of the moment consumes you, as he pours every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied.

You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.

"I wanna go to heaven with you again" Damiano whispers, his face inches away from yours.

You smile, gazing into their eyes, and you can see the unmistakable lust and desire reflected in him. You hope that he can also perceive the depth of your yearning and how much you desire the very same thing he does.

[codacheetah]

AGREE WITH YOUR PREVIOUS POST. I like mean Loop as a facade only, but we know they still care and love...

Now I have a question, what's your favorite Loop takes/headcanon

Oh my god I'm so sorry I took like two weeks to answer this one I prommy it's not bc I'm exclusively a hater or whatever. I just straight up forgot to answer Oopsie. I'm putting this under cut bc it got long enough that you all would shoot arrows at me for putting it on your dash

Anyways there's a lot of Loop Thangs I like frankly. A big one that I enjoy is when fic authors in postcanon make the transition of Loop into the party structure kind of rocky. Usually bc Loop's neuroses creating a level 12 psychic barrier between them and the party + the inherent awkwardness of meeting somebody who's apparently super close in a way (that you'll never fully understand) to one of your friends. Who let's be real I feel like half the party (coughIsabeauandMirabelle) would catch the aura of "oh they do not like us at all" from Loop. I want Loop to be happy and with their family but you just know this bitch is going to make it as difficult for themself on purpose. The Siffrin Special.

I also just generally like when they keep Loop as a star postcanon. I'm not at all a hater towards Human Loop (in fact I think it can be itself an interesting setup for a Loop fic) but I do like Loop as a star more thematically. Something about having to accept that things have changed and moving on from it regardless. Also bc Loop being dysphoric about their body scratches a very transgender projection itch in my brain Yessss little star you're stuck in a body that draws unwanted attention and which you have no control over how it looks and functions in a way that feels fundamentally wrong to you. (Pointing at canonically transgender character) Yooooo this guy is such a cool trans allegory omg

Hmm what else. This is more of a sloops thing but I always enjoy in fics when they lean into the fact it's selfcest frankly. I've become a selfcest enjoyer bc of this ship I'll never get over that act 5 dialogue abt the cautionary tale where Siffrin says he never understood the moral of the story bc the idea of having somebody just like him who understands him. Oh my gyoooooooooooooooood. I want them to melt into sludge I'm always thinking of that analogy from superflyghtheart on discord comparing Loop and Siffrin to endlings of an endangered species. 💥💥💥It's like. This is less sloopy now but I'm caught between the intersection in my head of "Loop would probably benefit from developing their own identity as a person separate from Siffrin bc they need Something they have control over" and "Loop is of the Siffrin Species and they are significantly too sentimental to let go of the shreds of what they used to have, especially after having lost all of it once already". Both of these things are yummy as fuck when ppl smarter than me explore them and they're kinda the main Story Paths for postcanon Loop anyways so I'm always winning. So like idk tldr I like it both when ppl have Loop diverge a lot as a person and when they have Loop try their best to stay as much of a Siffrin as possible!

I'm limiting myself to four paragraphs so you don't all want to hit me with hammers but I do have Loop Biology Headcanons. I've explained mythoughts on their guts before and don't feel like recounting them but whatever True #codacheetahwarriors remember my deranged rambling. ANYWAYS I kind of mentally run on the assumption of Loop's body as like. The Universe couldn't keep Loop in Siffrin's body, bc they needed Siffrin to be in it (and I guess a system situation introduces too many factors of its own? idk). The Universe operates with the goal of fulfilling wishes with the least intervention possible, so The Universe makes a body out of cheap inorganic material (star-scrap basically). Miniature star for a head fueling the body with Craft energy (I'm not going to get into my conspiracy that all Craft is the same here). Molds the star scrap into a vaguely Siffrin-shaped/sized vessel and plonks Loop's conscious into it and calls it a day. So Loop's body as a poor simulacrum of a human body is like. They're capable of breathing but they only really benefit from doing it on a psychological level. They can't eat or drink and don't have a mouth because it would require a significant level of added effort to make a digestive system, when they can just derive energy from their star. They don't have reproductive organs because they're not made from organic material anymore anyways. They don't need to sleep bc their body never gets tired but they still do it because it's not really a great idea to leave your brain on running for too long anyways.

I fucking lied I'm on paragraph five bc the block of text is annoying me. To continue that's all a preface to say I think it's super fun when Loop has body functions that are weird and unpredictable. Their little frizzles on their body are reactive to their emotions the same way their headstar is, and feel like static if you touch them. Their head has a vague boundary so their eyes have something to be rooted to but the function by which their optic nerves work is unclear to everybody including themself. They glow based on intensity of emotion and the temperature of their star changes via specific mood. Bc I think it would be fun if the battlefield in twohats when from ice cold to boiling hot frankly. Ok these are all just my headcanons (temperature one very loose though I'm not a hard subscriber to it) but they're not uniquely mine it's just examples of what I mean. One I don't have as a personal headcanon but I do enjoy is when Loop feels the same physical sensations as Siffrin bc it's funny and I like inflicting misery on the star.

I'm going to shut up now like actually . Loop for your troubles

[merbear25]

Day 17, fem reader and Nnoitra? Or Kenpachi if you'd prefer ^u^

I think this became one of my favorites on the list 😭 Hope you like it 💜🧡

You were making quite a name for yourself. With many falling to your feet in defeat, it was only a matter of time before people started seeking you out for a fight—aiming to prove to you and themselves that your downfall was long overdue.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, size kink, mentions of vaginal stretching and slight pain, reader is a soul reaper

More than you could handle (Nnoitra)

“Who are you to demand that I stand down?” He seethed. “You soul reapers are all the same.” He cocked a devious smile as he whipped his weapon out and proudly stabbed the ground beneath him with its base.

Unable to contain the thrill of it all, he lunged at you. The desire to wipe off that smug look on your face fueled the slashes that were just barely out of reach of you. The more you evaded his attacks, the angrier he got.

“Is that all you can do?” He shouted. “Don’t tell me those weaklings fell to you out of exhaustion!”

“You’re just beneath me is all.” 

The stone cold glare settling on him sent him into a blind rage. How dare you, a soul reaper, a woman, spit on his name.

By chance he hooked his weapon on your robes, causing you to stumble—perfect to pounce on. He couldn’t resist the urge to tower over, to cage you. Watching that tinge of panic shoot into your eyes as he jumped at you was the rush he’d been chasing.

Completely pinned under him, the sheer size of this man was becoming more unsettling. He leaned down to get a better look at the sweet defeat dancing upon your face. His long hair fell off his shoulders and framed your head.

“You look so much better now that you’ve been put in your place.” The tip of his tongue ran along his upper lip as if savoring the moment.

You huffed at the nerve. “Do you win all your fights with cheap tricks?” Pushing your luck was something you couldn’t refrain from. Witnessing that smug expression twist made whatever was going to come next worth it. 

Watching the way your chest fell with each breath and that undeserved fire that remained in your eyes were only making him want to stomp out your flame even more.

He leaned in and whispered, “Seeing that uncertainty in your eyes was worth all that brought you to your knees.” His breath was hot against your skin.

The slight murmurs from you being restrained were sending him to new heights, creating a feeling that he wanted to chase down and devour. On impulse, he ran his long tongue up along the side of your face.

A low groan escaped him. “I wouldn’t have expected something so small and worthless to taste so good.”

You bit down on your lip to stifle the soft gasp you almost let out. Your body betrayed you, though—arched in response to his slick tongue. As his eyes stayed on you, a smirk stretched across his face in the realization that you were his for the taking.

His hand slipped through the top opening in your robes, firmly grasping at your breast which was dwarfed in his large palm. The shock on your expression was just what he was after: the humiliation you must be feeling by being degraded by an enemy. He pinched and plucked at your nipple, earning himself those choked moans you were still so desperate to hold back.

It was all too easy to get you hot and bothered. What a pathetic and dainty little thing you were. While your hips were beginning to seek out friction his other hand roamed over your torso. Your gentle curves and smaller frame made you look so much weaker when you were like this. The softness of your skin under his callused hands and the warmth you had that he didn’t were more enjoyable to experience than he’d ever admit.

As you began panting from the rising pressure within you, he could feel his own desire stirring within. The chance to render you helpless, to see you completely at his mercy was all that we wanted. Thinking of such things in your current state was bringing out a side to him that he wasn’t aware that he had.

While he continued groping at your chest, his other hand slid between your legs. With just the faintest graze of his fingers, you were already like putty in his hands. The trembling of your legs, the wetness coating your slit, and your eyes glazing over: why must such a pitiful woman have an overwhelming effect on him?

He ran his fingers up and down your pussy lips, coating himself in your sinful arousal of defeat. Quickly, your most sensitive areas were discovered and not a second longer he exploited this finding.

Circling your clit with his thumb, he held onto you while you bucked your hips. Your moans of euphoria were unlike anything he’d ever heard. The new sensations were making it hard for him to ignore his own lust for you.

Without thinking, he shoved a few too many fingers into you, which caused you to cry out from the mixture of pain and pleasure. You were much too tight for him, but that was a part of the allure of it all.

He ignored your cries after a moment and flipped you on your stomach, angling your hips to force you into a more submissive doggy position. Starting off with one finger this time, he pumped inside you with reckless abandon—not really caring how deep he was. The high of you unraveling into a blubbering mess was all he cared about.

Unable to resist the urge to claim you completely, he pulled his pants down to allow his hardened cock to spring loose. With your face planted into the ground, you couldn’t mentally prepare yourself for him properly; the slaps of his length on your ass was your only indication of how much was about to be shoved into you.

Wanting to savor each moan of submission you would give him, he entered you slowly. The feeling of your drenched walls spasming around him the deeper he pushed was a testament to his own self-control.

You clawed at the ground, huffing and panting from this monstrously sized man ripping you in half. Pushing your hand against his thigh, you whimpered, “You’re too big!”

He chuckled, “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little pain? Some fighter you are.”

His hips began bucking against you, clearly driven by his own selfish wants. The grip he had on your hips tightened to keep you from scurrying away. Your body did its best to adapt to him, but there was no possibility of being able to take all of him.

The more he thrusted inside you, the more your smaller form eagerly tried to accept him. Your groans were low and raspy. You could feel yourself descending into madness the rougher he got.

“You see?” He grunted. “This is much more suitable for someone like you.”

The grip you had on him was making it more and more difficult to hold back from snapping inside you. “Just a little longer,” he thought to himself, “just needed to see you begging for mercy.”

It wasn’t long before you served yourself up on a silver platter. You screamed for him while raking your fingers across the ground. With one final thrust he pinned you down, letting his pent-up frustration and ecstasy spill into you. The flood of cum coating your walls was impossible for your weakened form to hold onto, leaving some of the pumps he gave to promptly spill out.

Kneading your ass and thighs, he admired how your pussy was still gripping onto him. Pulling out, he spread your lips to get the best view of his conquest imaginable. You were still struggling to catch your breath, too spent to stop him from continuing to play with you.

Smirking at your lack of resistance, he leaned down to your ear again. “Don’t you dare forget your place again.” His lips lingered on your ear for a moment.

[cios-correct-opinions]

@evilkaeya @aaabatteryy @starrynightarchive

see my other post about this here

to tl;dr this: when it comes to fandom and content creators, ppl tend to make content of the characters they already love and thus think about most often, which leads to, at times, male characters getting genderbent into women either thru cis or trans hcs, bc they are both genderbending, thats the definition of the term bc youre changing their gender, and getting mad at people for not, in your opinion, "appreciating" the female characters enough, is not doing anything except making people feel bad for not having the "correct" feelings about a character at best, or making them actively angry and thus fueling them to create more of that thing you hate out of spite at worst (for you anyway, not for the people who like it).

this doesnt mean they dont give a shit abt the other characters who arent their faves, but to create a work of art, you need to be able to like. care enough to do it. and that requires more care than just a general enjoyment or appreciation of a character, especially if the work in question is time intensive/would be time intensive, like writing a chapter fic/thousands of words long oneshot, or making a fully rendered piece of art, etc. obvi this will depend on the skill and energy levels of the artist we're talking about but yknow, on a general scale

op of this post blocked me so i cant respond directly on it but, for context

first of all: i'm not illiterate but i'm beginning to think some people on this post might be, given this response, because it is so clearly Not what i was talking about it's a little wild, actually!

also i hate to tell yall this, but the reason you don't often see people genderbending female characters to male anymore is bc of the spread of radfem ideology thru fandom spaces like wildfire. ppl genuinely lose their shit when ppl even have transmasc or trans man headcanons for characters assumedly cis female in the source material (which is genderbending btw. them being trans doesnt mean it isnt genderbending anymore you are still changing their gender thus it is genderbending thats the definition fellas) bc they fucking hate men and the idea of men existing

sorry not sorry but if you get mad at ppl who genderbend female characters into transmascs/trans men (transmascs aren't always genderbends, bc you can be transmasc and also a woman, but i digress/for the sake of brevity...) and go "you're TAKING AWAY a GOOD FEMALE CHARACTER!" i need you to stop for a second and consider why these people - most of whom are trans men/transmascs themselves - might be doing that to a character they like.

9/10 times when i see a cis genderbend of a male character to be female, the person doing it is a cis woman. when i see genderbends, of any kind, of a female character to be male or masc? it's almost always done by a trans man and/or a transmasc. and inevitably, they are almost always dogpiled for it with disgusting levels of hate. i've seen it happen so many times i stopped attempting to count a long time ago

don't come up here saying "you NEVER see-" because actually i see all of those things happen all the time. ppl love genderbending men characters into women, or emasculating/demasculinizing/feminizing them in order to make them personally more appealing, or saying "[mlm ship] would be better if it was two girls/wlw/two fem-aligned/etc" all the fucking time. and while i realize this is often a way for the people who say this to like, try to lash out at common misogynistic/lesbiphobic/transmisogynistic/etc sentiment irl, in doing so, they are not doing it in a way that allows for a nuanced understanding of their fellow fandom-goers. they make blanket sweeping statements and then dogpile people who disagree

the moment you start treating entire demographics of people as if they are a hivemind or a single identity, the moment you decide that something "never" happens bc you personally have not seen it? youve already lost any possible chance you mightve had at making a good point

[emswritingsstuff]

Pink in the Night (Carol Peletier x Fem! Reader

--

Note: hi! so after some consideration of this fic, i decided to make it multipart! just so i can make the content more digestible and also just try it out! hope you stick around for it :)

parts: [part 2]

Warning: mentions of domestic violence/ abuse and some violence (towards reader) so be cautious! don't read if that's triggering

Summary: your relationship with carol starts to bloom after defending her from ed

WC: 2.6k

--

The soft conversations of the other women filled the atmosphere as you all did your work. You were sitting a few feet away from them, getting in your own head. Washing the clothes was the last thing you had wanted to do, especially for Shane. You were annoyed to be there, you had tried telling Shane you wanted to do something more than basic chores. But he was never for it, which made you angry. Ultimately, you just did what he told you, not wanting to create useless and unwanted tension. 

Tuning everyone out, you just focused on the pair of jeans you were washing, doing your best to at least try and make it look like you care. Getting lost in the rhythm, you were completely unaware of the group trying to get your attention. A soft nudge to your arm broke you out of your head and you looked up to see Jacqui, seemingly wanting to include you in the group. Which you did end up accepting. 

“I do miss my Maytag,” Carol had started while looking down at her work. You had missed what Andrea and Jacqui had said, tuning back in when Amy spoke up. “I miss my computer, I miss texting,” The small amount of silence had prompted you to speak up, “I miss scalding hot showers, like the type that makes you lightheaded.” You had noticed a grin on Carol's face as she nodded along to what you’d said, making you smile to yourself. 

Andrea set the shirt she was washing on her lap and sighed, “I miss my vibrator.” The group was silent beside Andrea and Jacqui laughing. You had noticed Carol looking around, looking back toward Ed and back at Andrea. “Me too,” Carol said, which triggered everyone to erupt into laughter. All the laughs and smiles made this stupid chore so much more enjoyable, but all up until Ed started walking over to the group. 

It was no secret that Ed was hated throughout the group, it surprised you they kept him around. You all knew what was going on between him and Carol, and their little girl Sophia. Nothing needed to be said, you had just picked up on it. All the traits were there. The bruises, Carol’s unease around Ed, doing everything he told her to do at the drop of a hat. All signs of abuse. And everyone else knew too, but nothing has been said or even done. Which fueled your anger. 

As Ed made his way over to your small group, you gripped the pants in your hands with all your force. Knuckles turning white, trying not to lose your cool just yet. The look on his face told you enough about his intentions.

“What's so funny?” Ed says, putting his cigarette back in his mouth to take a drag. You noticed Carol's face immediately dropped when she heard his voice, that broke your heart. He loomed over all of you like he was a chaperone, like you needed to be watched. God you could’ve just beat his face in right there.

“Problem Ed?” Andrea speaks up, trying to make it seem like she was joking around. But Ed was completely serious, “Nothing that concerns you.” Looking down you sighed heavily, and the prick opened his mouth again. “Focus on your work, ain’t no comedy club,” once he said that he still just stayed there, watching. Making all of you tense, you’d decided enough was enough. 

Throwing the clothing you were washing in the bucket, you stood up and looked at Ed. “We don’t need supervision to work. Leave, or if you want this done better. Do it yourself.” Moving your hand up, you flicked water in his face. Just trying to get him to leave. But in return all he did was stare daggers into you, but you weren’t going to let him bother you. “Ain’t my job missy,” you bit the inside of your cheek and looked off at Carol. She still had her head in her work. 

“What is your job? Sitting around smoking cigarettes?” His jaw clenched as those words left your mouth. He was like a timebomb that was going to explode any minute, now that scared you. Scared you for Carol and Sophia. 

“It sure as hell ain’t listening to a smart mouthed bitch.” He harshly looked down to Carol, “C’mon. Let's go.” Right as Carol went to stand you stood in front of her, placing your arms in front of her. The other women soon jumped to defend Carol, you’d turned around and faced Ed again. Your back is facing Carol, holding yourself up in front of her like a shield. He was closer to your face now, but you weren’t going to let yourself get scared of him. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you, you’ll have to get through me before that happens.” He just scoffed while tilting his head to look at Carol. Also putting his hand out in a ‘come here’ motion to her. “You heard me, Come on now.” Carol kept walking toward him and you put your hand out to stop her, “No, stay,” but she just kept walking. 

With tearfilled eyes, she weakly said it “didn’t matter,” but that was bullshit. And you knew it was. The fight was slowly escalating, you had to admit you had started to feel more and more nervous  for Carol. Your thoughts were racing, you couldn’t even think straight about what was even going on. 

Ed saying, “You’ll regret it later” pulled you back down. Making you see red. He gripped Carol by the arm and you sprung to action, trying to get in between them. You had managed to do it successfully, but not without a stinging pain in your face. 

You had guessed Ed was trying to go for Carol, but you had gotten in the way. Making it so you took the slap instead of her. But without thinking, you instantly threw your fist up in his face. He stumbled backwards and was going to hit you again, but Shane had pulled him away. Ultimately getting himself fucked up by Shane. 

The scene playing out in front of you broke you in a million different ways. Amy was holding Carol back as the scene played out right in front of her. She was inconsolable, a sobbing mess, trying to fight her way out of Amy’s arms. You could tell she wanted to help Ed, help the man who’s been hurting her all this time. You couldn’t even focus on your own messy state as you were trying to calm down Carol, but the mark on your face stressed her more.  

Eventually Shane backed off, but not before threatening to kill Ed if he ever touched Carol or Sophia again. As much as you didn’t like Shane, you had to side with him on this one. You wanted to kill that fucker. As soon as Shane walked off, Amy had let go of Carol and she ran to Ed’s side. Instantly apologizing for causing this mess, but with more thinking it was ultimately your fault this happened. You fed the fire, and now you felt guilty. 

Tears threatened to fall and you soon grabbed the clothes you needed to hang out to dry and got out of there. The pain in your face started to set in, the slight stinging feeling causing massive discomfort. You would kill for a bag of peas to put on your face right now, which was a silly thought to have, but you needed the comfort. You had hung out all the clothes and promptly returned to your tent, choosing to seclude yourself for the rest of the night. 

No one had really gone to check on you, which you figured. Today was a mess, and you were thankful that no one tried to tell you that what you did was okay. You knew it wasn’t. Carol's situation probably got so much worse, and it was all your fault. You’d just laid there, back toward the entrance of your tent, you didn’t even see the figure walking towards it.

Slight rustles of your tent caused you to turn around, all you could see was the dark silhouette of the person outside. It didn’t look like Ed, but you figured he wasn't going to be around the group for a while. “Come in,” you moved so your back remained to the entrance. You were trying to hide the massive mark on your face, but it was hard to do so when it was so obviously there. 

“(Y/N), please look at me,” It was Carol, your stomach dropped. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see her but it was just scary for you to think about what Ed has been doing since the fight. Her voice sounded broken, like she had been crying nonstop. Slowly sitting up, you turned around and your eyes met Carols. They were glossy, and soon went wide eyed when she saw the state your face was in. 

The right side of your face was slightly swollen, it wasn’t horribly bruised yet. It was just red, and slightly purple in some places, proving that it will bruise soon. It looked like it hurt, and it sure as hell did. You didn’t want to show that though, all you wanted to do was tough it out. Just be strong for the ones that couldn’t be. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Carol’s hand move slowly. Feeling her fingers gently on your face, she was trying to gauge the pain you were in. When you flinched back slightly, the tears on her face came down quicker. Both of you felt massive guilt, it was obvious to you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol said so quietly. Her voice was trembling. 

“Don’t apologize, it's not your fault.” She could barely look at you, her sobs preventing her from even sitting up straight. You had no clue what to do, but you knew she needed to let those emotions out. Just letting her cry. 

You both were stuck like that for a while. She brought her hands up to her eyes and wiped her tears. Sniffling and still looking down, you knew she felt ashamed and blamed herself. Like she should’ve done better. But you could never blame her for anything Ed did. But the thoughts kept eating her up, it was obvious. She was physically shaking, probably from being horribly overwhelmed with emotions. 

Carol wiped her eyes again and mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and turned to leave, but you softly grabbed her wrist. “If he bothers you tonight, or you just don’t feel safe, come here. You and Sophia.” She gives you a tearful nod as she silently walks out. Your gut and your heart were telling you to run after her and tell her to just stay with you permanently, just leave him, but you knew that was a bad idea. Knowing how Ed was, it was dangerous for them to do that. It didn’t stop you from debating it though.  

Soon enough night fell over the camp, the only sounds that could be heard was the fire crackling on and a few mumbled conversations. You had dimmed the lantern you had to see if you could get tired, but to no avail. The thoughts in your mind kept racing. You were secretly trying to listen into the Peletier tent to see if you could hear anything happening, but luckily you were just overthinking. 

Finally after a while you had managed to find some sleep, thankful that you could turn your brain off. You didn’t know how much time had passed since you’d fallen asleep but you were soon woken up to the noise of a zipper. After just waking up your brain didn’t register what was going on until you saw Carol and Sophia quietly make their way into your tent. 

Looking them over, they seemed to be okay, no injuries. Letting out a sigh of relief you rub your eyes and look at Carol. Still a little shaken, but also looking better than before. Looking over at Sophia she looked about as normal as you can be in this situation. Though you were very sure she was just relieved to not be in a tent with her dad. 

“Sorry for waking you, just really didn’t want to be in there with Ed. He’s finally asleep,” You nodded and gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay, I said you could come, and I meant that,” Carol gave you a smile back and Sophia cuddled into her side. Sophia had looked tired and you felt for her, a lot of her nights were probably restless. 

Both of them looked restless, “Both of you should sleep, it would do you some good.” Carol nodded and Sophia was already almost half asleep. You moved over and padded the spot you were laying down at first. Carol quickly shook her head, “No, I can’t take your bed.” You shook your head back, “I insist, you need it more than me anyways. Besides, I already slept.” She sighed in response, but didn’t argue. She made her and Sophia comfortable and you smiled as they both drifted off, finally looking peaceful. 

Morning came quickly. You had heard rustling behind you and when you turned around Sophia was the first one up. With her doll in hand she sat up and waved to you. You waved back with a smile on your face, you moved your head and gestured for her to come sit with you. She had a hesitant look at first, but she soon silently made her way over to you. Sophia made her place to the right of you, both of your backs facing a sleeping Carol. You’d spend the morning with her showing her a bunch of little trinkets you had collected. During and even before the end of the world.  

To some it felt pointless to grab “useless junk” but seeing Sophia's smile when you showed her all the different things you’ve managed to collect made it so worth it. 

Picking up a pink stone, you held it up to show Sophia. “This is pink opal, bought it before everything went wrong.” You gently grabbed her hand and placed the stone in it, letting her get a closer look. “It's supposed to heal you, in an emotional context of course,” you giggled as she was almost hypnotized by the stone in her hand. “Does it work?” All you could do was shrug, “If you believe it yeah, but it's just a nice thought to have that they help,” it was her turn to giggle and she went to hand the stone back to you but you declined. “Keep it, you seem to really like it,” her eyes lit up as she put it in her little jean pocket, making sure it was secure. She mumbled a quiet “thank you” and she looked more at the pile of colorful stones you had. 

Hearing movement, you look back behind you to see Carol awake and starting to get ready to leave the tent. “Good morning,” you whispered quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment you all had. She smiled and quickly made her way over to you to give you a hug. She was pressed up against your back with her arms around your neck, it was comforting and also loving in a way. 

“Thank you for everything, it means the world,” she said quietly in your ear. You patted her arm that was around your neck and hummed in response. She pulled away and made her way to the entrance, she was about to get Sophia, but she quickly spoke up. “Can I spend more time here? (Y/N) has really cool stuff!” you shrugged and laughed a bit, Carol’s face cracked into a smile. She nodded a quick yes and left to get the day started. 

[lovelyelbowleech]

Ahhh I just stayed up way too late for someone with a job and responsibilities like laundry and groceries to be doing this, but war game/war crimes had me in a chokehold. I really appreciate all the threads you’ve been weaving an the creative ways they’re mixing together to create new dynamics and twists . I also love the how the humorous beats balance out the very mature take on war. As someone who works with torture survivors, I appreciate how your depictions felt (tragically) realistic and respectful to gravity of the human right violations. I also appreciate howuch time you’ve given sokka and zuko to be unwell in unpleasant ways, not just convenient for falling in love ways. Just fantastic scenes of healing and being upset. Also I do love all the different facets of Zuko we see based on all the different lens people see him in, all of them working incomplete information. I for one am curious to see how zuko will be seen by the team Azula, those who perhaps have had the most years build up an idea of who he is and how that’ll accentuate what has and hasn’t changed. I could keep going forever about all that I’m curious about but for the sake of your inbox, I’ll simply stew on it and trust that the next chapter will pose even more questions for me and take the story to another supremely well written twist( loooove how many actors are duplicitous and fueled by more than one motivation) (( also love that so far I think almost every POV has had their “I will kill Zhao” moment because whew consequences and also what a fun way to show ripples of his actions))

Thank you for this lovely ask! Sorry its taken some time to reply, I've had some stuff going on 😬

Its always good to hear when people find my depiction of trauma and torture realistic and impactful (that feels like a weird thing to say!) so thank you very much for letting me know!

I love outsider POV because you get to see canon characters through someone who is not in the know. Its very entertaining to write! And Zuko (esp in this situation) is such a fun character to do that with, as there are many layers and deceptions going on. I think Team Azula's interactions with him, if and when they happen will be really enjoyable to write 😂

Thank you again for this lovely ask, I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on things! ❤️

[nejishadow]

Kenjikoto / Makokenji half-drabbles and ideas I have no energy to do anything with, because I haven't written fanfic in years, that I don't want to sit in the queue for weeks so it's getting posted now

Feel free (please do!) to expand / finish / take inspo from these for this ship, and please tag me / message me / something if you do because I crave content and exploration between these two. Unhinged tags and comments about how I inspired something/anything give me the biggest amount of fuel to keep creating art!!

Do you wanna see me ramble in real time about these weirdos / pos?? Join @bakafurai 's Kenji Enjoyer Club Discord (in their pinned)!

Some get real long so it's all going below a cut!

((These are all ideas and things written as stream of consciousness to just get my ideas out in a discord channel, so don't expect the best dialogue, formatting, or anything else, I haven't finished a full piece of writing and/or fanfic in years, ha))

Seeing these screenshots my first thought - and a tag I immediately added - was 'you heard the man, Yuki, give him a piggyback ride!'

But I kept thinking like. Makoto's strong. He could? He should??

Makoto kneeling down, telling Kenji to get on then, he'll take him home

Kenji chuckle or laugh, assumes he's joking or being silly like usual, sure Yuki, you can totally do that

Makoto getting serious, if you don't pick in the next couple seconds I'm leaving you behind. Kenji panicks at that and gets on without thinking and is surprised when Makoto stands up and carries him no problem (insert "I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me")

too shocked that Makoto can even do this to be embarrassed, maybe asks Makoto why he's doing this, Kenji could've just sucked it up. Answer something like "because I wanted to", Yuki doesn't elaborate much on those things.

Gives Kenji some time to do stuff he usually wouldn't, like study Makoto's hair, hear the music spilling out the headphones etc. I like the idea he just gets so relaxed on the way home he falls asleep but Makoto keeps carrying him

It's totally just a Best Bros privilege thing, could mean nothing more!! Simply don't think about how it made you feel ever again

Bonus of

Kenji talking to Makoto in the classroom, Junpei coming up making some joke about how people saw them, asking if Makoto can do that for him too (laugh, joke, being friend.)

And Makoto boils it down to: no

That makes Kenji real happy, that he's special like that. But he does stuff only for Yuki too so it's normal!!

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

"So we've all thought about how pretty Yuki is, right, like the guy catches everyone's eye when he walks in, how couldn't we? Even with his bad fashion sense he just grabs your attention"

Kaz makes the most sense to respond, they are friends just "… I have never thought that. Are you sure you're not goin' through something?"

slaps a pic of Yosuke and Kenji These bad boys can fit so much comphet and denial in 'em!

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

Another idea I remembered, less fleshed but a strong visual I wanted to draw

Kenji waiting at track practice for Makoto to be done. Kenji had never seen him run so decided to wait outside for once

Of course he's impressed. Makoto seems to take his time walking everywhere, at least when they go places, but man, he can run!

Makoto flopping next to him when he's done, after everyone else disperses, small talk about how hes surprised Kenji waited out here, doesn't seem interested in sports. Kenji some speech about how he wanted to see how badly Yuki beat everyone else

it's pretty hot, and Makoto's tired, flops over into Kenji's lap. 'Let me nap here a few minutes and we can go, you're cooler than the bench'

Kenji tenses a bit, but breathes, Yuki just wants to rest, chill!… but he can't help but eventually card his hand through Makoto's bangs, pushing them up and outta the way.

Makoto opens his eyes and just looks at him, not judgemental or questioning, just observing. But oh no - Kenji had never stared at both his eyes so close oh this is a problem

quickly he removes his hand, apologizes, some comment about how Yuki just looked sweaty and he was trying to move the hair off

Makoto closes his eyes again… 'I don't mind. I am in your space, I guess…'

after a bit, Kenji relaxes and starts running his hands through the hair again, silky and feathery. He can think about how this makes him feel LATER (never), for now he just wants to enjoy this thing he likely won't get again

Tho Makoto better hope Yuko doesn't see this or she's gonna tease him about his boyfriend / biggest fan until the end of time

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

Pics I drew made me think of kenjikoto train ride(s):

Makoto tired, either tucks into Kenji's shoulder or leans on his head for a quick nap

Kenji doesn't mind, knows Makoto doesn't sleep the best, even if he doesn't know why

Anytime the train jostles or moves he instinctually holds Makoto's head so it doesn't shake or fall, wants him to be comfortable

it's not until they reach the destination and Makoto separates from him that Kenji thinks… oh, that was actually nice. I wish the ride could've been just a little bit longer

a bonus if Makoto senses his change in mood and gives him a shoulder bump, trying to cheer him up. Maybe offering to hang out awhile longer at the dorm or something

Aka there is no way Kenji isn't touch starved, as are all the protags and a third of the cast pft

About Makoto being a frequent napper: Asks Kenji to eat on the roof with him almost exclusively so he can take a nap, because he's just a lil bit silly like that. Gives Kenji time to just talk to him, ramble, hard to do that when you're out eating food.

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

Girl Advice made me think of a rough conversation

"Everyone assumes you're cold, man. No wonder you dont have a girlfriend! Even if they talked to you, a few words outta your mouth and they'd turn tail and leave."

"Why's it so important to have a girlfriend, anyway?" Eats some of his lunch bread

"You're such a good guy, you deserve one, man!" A shoulder tap. "If they knew the real you, they'd be falling over themselves to get your attention, I know it."

Makoto a head tilt or a look, confused by the use of 'deserve'. Kenji deciphers it

"… well a girlfriend makes guys happy, right? I want to see you happy all the time!" Putting both his hands on Makoto's shoulders and shaking him a smidge. "Doesnt it sound fun? Double dates, man, we can hang out all the time!"

Makoto blinks in a thoughtful way, meeting Kenji's eyes. "But I'm already happy, hanging out with you like this. Isn't that enough? We do things together all the time… why do we need anyone else?"

Kenji blinks a bit in surprise. Yeah, he'd never thought of that. He's also really happy around Yuki… is that… ok? For two guys to always hang out alone? Yuki never seems to think it's odd…

Makoto slowly grabs Kenji's hands off of his shoulder, Kenji swears he feels Yuki squeeze them for just a second before a wrapped sandwich is pushed into them.

"Eat, almost time for class. You can't live off ramen forever."

Kenji just nods, unwrapping it and adjusting himself before taking a bite. If Makoto feels just a bit more of their sides touching, he doesn't comment on it

[vellichorom]

(My signal was shitty last night so I dont even know if my ask about Shuu even went through or not, pfftt)

BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT TO THIS ONE!

Get positive beamed because now I'm fueled.

Shoutout to Thierry for being snarky but oh so silly, shoutout for him not being ashamed of his body build because that was HIS CHOICE and it reflects off how HIS ROSEMARY TREATS HIM. We cant have our Narrators starving themselves around here, nope, that is a SHAME and it is UNACCEPTABLE. Shoutout to him having creative timing and making me genuinely laugh with him THAT IS IMPORTANT TO NOTE, LAUGHING WITH A CHARACTER IS MORE ENJOYABLE ANYWAYS!

Shoutout to Thierry for being socially anxious and still trying to keep conversation. I see you and I love it. Shoutout to him having the mushiest, sweetest soul that even the most simplest compliment sends him bouncing out of his seat. Shoutout to him not judging people for anything that may come up because that's not how you behave in game or the real world.

Shoutout to him being willing to learn more on a topic he knows nothing about just because a friend loves it. Shoutout to him loving autumn and Halloween and being so dorky about it because his excitement just fuels my own and makes life less boring if I followed his lead.

Shoutout to his comfy as shit cardigan with his little gold chain clasping it together like its the grandest cape but in reality it is blanket for Wife to Steal.

I still don't understand where they came from or why, but this seemingly group of little haters who think trashing on people's characters, for any reason, is okay, are literally juvenile in behavior and need to go outside and play in some dirt. Good for character. They need to go dig some holes and bury some leaves, sticks and acorns.

I know that its not as simple as "ignore the hate" because its so massive and near unending, but please dont forget that they don't get to decide what you create or how you do it. Because if they did, I wouldn't have an awesome mutual who's inspired me to draw fatter characters. :3

One day, I will achieve peak Twinkie fat men,,,, it will be my magnum opus.

I will make my men fat because they deserve it.

I DON'T HAVE A LOT OF WORDS FOR THIS ONE EITHER but god. GOD !!!!!!! it's harder times like this that i can't forget i have loving friends who KNOW my intentions & KNOW my character far better than anyone else with their gross little jokes ever will have the FUCKING PLEASURE TO UNDERSTAND

how unspeakably happy i am to know what you've picked up on & what of his character lingers with you or anyone else, it's extremely important to me & reminds me of what i love about this character - or moreso what i've / we've put into him through our silly little roleplays & imagines & whatnot

IT MIGHT NOT WIPE AWAY EVERY BIT OF BULLSHIT but it earnestly does help & i genuinely appreciate your input more than i can say. thank you ghost i love you so much ❤️

( also i didn't get that ask please send it again )

[boss-poss]

My take on the whole HD2 psn account scandal is that it sucks and it should have been expected but I really want to highlight just how far under the bus sony is throwing the devs with this:

-Announcement came out yesterday, meaning that the brunt of the (assuredly) expected blowback occurs over a weekend when most of the players don't have anything better to do and the news has reached most of them. Arrowhead takes the heat and eventually anger simmers down when monday rolls around and people get back to work and such. No skin off sony's back.

-Arrowhead community managers are already known to be blunt and dismissive compared to other games making them, and arrowhead by extension, seem the easy target as they deal with complaints. AH says they're already chasing sony about related issues but the chance of the big S giving anything more than an empty promise (if even that) is remote.

-HD2 has a large community, and as with any game playerbase, it's filled with reactionary idiots and trolls. The principle of the thing (giving sony your leash), not to mention the hassle or regional issues that could come with creating a psn account, is enough to whip people into a frenzy. There was no way this was expected to go over well.

-The requirement for a psn account was always noted but was waived for a couple of months, more than enough time for people to get invested and buy premium currency, not to mention the game becoming a landmark title among a sea of trash. That's more than enough time to forget a stipulation like that. Can't have people refunding to show their displeasure!

-A warbond was announced right before the psn mandate so whether that was to try and cushion the blow or just unfortunate timing or a mandate from higher up it makes AH look like they prioritize selling you stuff over player enjoyment, adding fuel to the fire.

-A lack of polish in certain areas of the game and rampant balance issues that cause players and the devs to butt heads have been ongoing issues since launch. Clearly, AH is having a time keeping their vision and player enjoyment balanced which has already created a fairly deep divide. The psn requirement is pretty much taking a hammer to a widening crack and will (whether intentionally or not) bring more heat towards the developers.

-PSN is famously bad at security and ultimately pointless off of their consoles, with numerous huge data breaches and accounts offering little more to players than a way for you to give your information so sony can sell it. That seems to me to be the main motive here, alongside cementing the notion of HD2 as a playstation exclusive (sorry xbox players but I don't think you'll be getting this game anytime soon). A live service game that isn't squeezing every last penny out of its players at every opportunity is ultimately financially inefficient and I'm sure some sony people are kept up at night by that fact.

-The biggest fuck you I've seen though is that the game is sold on steam in countries sony doesn't support, meaning that you could have bought and played the game already and then now be barred from playing it a few months later (can't have those pesky, preemptive refunds). Also, VPNs are against sony terms of service, so yeah... any burner accounts could get you banned and be a huge hassle.

I can't conclusively say that sony set up arrowhead as the patsy while they try to collect all that sweet, succulent, valuable, personal data but I don't believe this was an accident either. Corporations are far from stupid and fortunately for them and unfortunately for consumers, a significant portion of us are pretty easy to lead by the nose to certain conclusions. They know this and many facets of business work along those lines. Outrage is profitable and brings attention, if you're not the one in the direct line of fire.

I feel bad for the devs and I doubt much will come of this besides a temporary drop in players and maybe some sort of optional linking concession if things get dire enough, but I doubt the game will fail. Arrowhead aren't the devil but they did sign on his dotted line and sometimes the cost of success is getting told you'll bending over and taking it for someone else. Seems to be the case here to me at least.

[fourhornedsatyr]

I love Cassette Beasts.

As someone who is an avid fan of Monster Collector games, and who most fondly remembers Pokemon B&W and Digimon D&D from the DS era, I only have good things to say about my first four hours of playing Cassette Beasts by Bytten Studio.

So, I'm gonna talk about it.

Gameplay

The Transformation Mechanic & Record (capture) mechanic

Unlike most games of the genre, you do not summon/control the monsters you use to fight, but rathee you become them -- digimon frontier style. Your avatar & a companion fight using cassettes that have copied the essence of the monsters you encountered (captures work like an alternate of the data copy mechanic of the digimon turn based rpgs).

You effectively have two health bars, that of your monster form & that of your human self, and once your monster form takes enough damage the cassette will break. Upon breaking you will revert to your human form and take on any overflow damage. If you are attacked before it is your turn to select another cassette, then you will receive damage and hence have to worry about your own health. There is no way to replenish the health of human characters in combat, at least none that I have accessed.

Furthermore, many of your status effects, buffs, & debuffs carry over from one transformation to another. This leads to a lot of stacking possibilities, but also means that one much be cautious, think wisely, and manage their defence and type matchups.

When recording/capturing monsters as well, you have to leave your monster form and are vulnerable. Despite having a good chunk of hp it is still wise to protect your human characters via walls & taunts to improve your chances of successfully copying a beast & sustaining minimal damage. This adds an enjoyable complexity to the capture stystem.

Type Matchups & Dynamic Interactions.

Speaking of type matchups, the type interactions are marvelously impressive & complex!

There are 14 types that are inspired by both naturally occuring aspects/materials/elements of the world and anthropogenic ones. Many of these typings can be thought of with a twisted pokemon logic (ground beats lightning, fire consumes poison, water & air put out fire), but we also have the celestial type, which draws from the natural typings and is weak to anthropogenic typings such as metal, plastic, & poison (it thematically (& vaguely mechanically) reminds me of holy & dark digimon types).

Furthermore, many type interactions include buffs & debuffs. Earth slows down plastic types, poison fuels fire types, lightning electrifies the air, and celestial absorbs the energies of natural typings.

BUT THERE'S MORE! Metal types can be coated in poison after interacting with poison type moves and can then deal poison contact damage! When fire types attack air types an updraft is formed that gives the air types a shield! I HAVEN'T EVEN MENTIONED TRANSMUTATIONS! When fire types attack ice types, the latter will gain the water coating effect and will become water types! Likewise, electric attacks can turn ground types into glass!

The dynamics of type interactions is amazing, and makes gamplay so enjoyable.

(Type matchup chart, wiki.CassetteBeast.com/wiki/types)

Fusion

As far as I am aware all cassette beasts are monotype unless they are fused. This is a major mechanic in the game that serves to create a new monster during a fight that shares most of the moves of you and your companion's monster forms.

Yet, while you can do this after filling up a meter that takes, usually, multiple fights to fill, the wild monsters can also do this. These Rogue Fusions pose a unique threat as once defeated they will defuse with full hp and you will then have to fight the two that were fused -- just as what happens when you defuse.

Though there are unique fusions that do have interesting and enjoyable dynamics I have not yet acquainted myself with too many and will not delve too heavily into this topic.

One aspect of the fuse that I will discuss further is the music.

Atmosphere & World Elements

The Music

The music in this game is amazing. The music for the basecamp village of Harbour Town is amazing and nails the theme of the town and the initial emotions of the game wonderfully. Much of the music in combat is dynamic and will change depending on the state of the battle, often playing wonderful vocal pieces after drawing first blood post-fusion (the music changes depending on the fusion too). I fucking love it.

The Land Keepers

There are vampire landlords called landkeepers that you fight in the game to keep them from gentrifying the island.

(Wiki.CassetteBeasts.com/wiki/Landkeeper)

Look at that freak! They are capitalist estate agents whose only goal is to setup an exploitative economic system on the island of New Wirral. One of your companion's whole quest line is shutting them down!

●●●

I love this game.

[virune]

Ngl as another Inuyasha enjoyer, it’ll be cool to see Oni Scourge drawn in an Inuyasha setting. like a screenshot redraw? His greedy eyes lighting up intensely at the mobian equivalent of a Shikon Jewel. Does this Oni Scourge look for power based on what you’ve said about him being weaker than other demons?

If he screams out attacks would he say something like the Wind Scar? 🫢 I know he’s not a half demon but like a “full demon” mode scourge? Since stronger demons exist who would be the overpowered “ sesshomaru” in your AU?

Sorry I have so many questions but the AU got my brain going. You don’t gotta answer them all. xD

I really should get into more anime like this you have any recommendations?

so, this au isn't gonna be exactly like inuyasha, rather i'll be using inuyasha as inspiration and to help with world-building!

in this au, demons get stronger by devouring mortal souls. this isn't as easy as it sounds because mortals have wizened up and carry around protective charms made by monks to ward them off. every village and city has a temple for further protection. mortals are only really vulnerable on trade routes and the wilderness found between settlements, but again, they usually carry protective charms to keep safe even when they're out by themselves.

scourge is rather young for a demon, and also scrappy and weak; he was raised by mortals, giving him principals and morals not otherwise found in demonic creatures. even so, after losing his adoptive parents to a stronger demon, he decided to consume the souls of mortals to make himself stronger, fueled by grief to take vengeance on the one who killed his family.

in trying to achieve this goal, however, scourge comes face-to-face with a particularly powerful demon who almost kills him. he manages to escape, but he's grievously injured (deep gashes on his chest left by the other demon's claws). he finds himself passing out near mighty's temple, and the monk takes him in and tends to his injuries despite his better judgment.

this is the beginning of their relationship. scourge has to hide and isn't allowed to hang around the temple too much because mighty will get in trouble if he caught being friendly with a demon. his apprentice, ray, does eventually discover what's going on, but he agrees to keep it a secret. eventually, mighty manages to create a trinket that grants scourge a mortal disguise, so he's able to coexist within the village without anyone knowing he's a demon.

and i think shadow would be a perfect candidate for a powerful demon. his name is loyal to how he operates; like a shroud in the darkness, before you even have a chance to register him, you're slaughtered. note: shadow is not always this way. only in the beginning, when he is grieving. he gets a character arc too (glances at sonic)... :)

as for anime recommendations, to be honest, i'm not much of an anime watcher in general. i like inuyasha because it's nostalgic for me!

[mshalfemptygirl]

Spencer Reid Masterlist (S.R)

Hello, my dear readers, fellow Spencer Reid/MGG lovers, and everyone who shares this love for fanfiction 🏹

I want to take a moment to express my heartfelt gratitude to each of you for dedicating your time to read my fics. Over the course of 2023, I wrote six fics, and I'm thrilled to be adding more stories to continue this creative journey with all of you. Writing these stories for you has become a significant part of my life, and I’m excited to keep sharing it with you all. 

I also want to extend my deepest appreciation to the incredible writers on this platform who inspire me daily, as well as to my friends who support me along the way. Your influence and encouragement mean the world to me.

Please know that I am always open to feedback and requests—your thoughts and ideas are invaluable as I strive to create content that resonates with you. So, dive into each word, savor the stories, and know that your support fuels my passion.

With love and gratitude to you all  💘

Requests: open

Fluffy  😍

The Prince Agent: Reader is called to help Spencer with a case and things get too cute.

Exagerado:  Spencer is very interested in Brazilian culture and also in Reader, his co-worker.

Cupid:  Our favorite Doutor confess feels to his best friend also co-worker, Y/N.

Against  😡

Protective: Spencer is very jealous after prison and this can be bad for his relationship with Reader. 

Soft Smut (16+) 🥵

Karaoke Night: Reader and Spencer are at karaoke and a song changes everything between them. 

Smut (18+)  😈 

Play In My Game: Reader Reader is being a brat to get what she wants, and what she wants is Spencer playing her game.

Spit Your Love On Me: Spencer Reader are having an enjoyable Saturday night that just might get better.