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misguidedasgardian · 6 hours

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The Hour of the Wolf (XI)

XI. A ray of sunlight

MASTERLIST

Summary: You never thought you could feel like this

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, might miss some warnings, brestfeeding on this chapter

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k

Notes: Alright… sorry for the confusion… There were three ravens, Reader first wrote to Cregan to confess to him that she was pregnant and she wanted him back and whatnot… that raven GOT LOST, got eaten by a snake… idk… she then received a raven from Cregan, who, as he never received anything, he wrote to her telling her he was fine and he would like her to visit him up North, reader thought he received the letter, and didn’t care, and it was answering to it, so she just wrote a letter telling him she couldn’t make the journey, that’s it!

“Look at him”, you whispered, “he is perfect”, you admired his beautiful round face, his perfect little nose, his long eyelashes, his round squishy cheeks

“He is”, Cregan whispered, kissing your temple, “you had done so beautifully, my sweet Queen”, you looked into his eyes and you found content, and pride

But your eyes returned to your baby, your dragonling.

He had silver hair, beautiful silver hair, just like yours, and then when he barely open his eyes, he revealed them to be icy gray, like his father

He was so perfect, a perfect Targaryen Prince

The blood of Old Valyria and the blood of the first men run through his little veins.

You were so, so proud of him, of yourself, you had every maester check his health, and they all agreed, that the New Prince of Dragonstone was healthy, strong, and, as he had proven to you, had a strong set of lungs in him.

“My love”, called Cregan, but you only hummed, not letting your eyes wander from your newborn son, “there is people wanting to meet him”, he said softly, it was the middle of the next day, and you wanted to savor your alone time with him a little longer.

“Later”, you said simply

“They had been waiting since yesterday”, he said, kissing the top of your head again, “and we need a name”

“I just gave birth, can’t they please leave me alone for a bit?”, you asked, softly but angrily

“This baby is the next ruler of the seven Kingdoms”, he said softly, “there are protocols…”, you looked at him severely

“Bring in my brother and Jahaera”, you conceded, he barely nodded, and went away, giving you a breath of relief. You didn’t want anyone else but your family in here

The children entered with big, curious, scared eyes, when they landed on you, they came to your side quickly, Aegon was sure to be right there next to you, to catch the closest and first look at his baby nephew

“He is a bit red”, it’s the first thing he mumbled, making you giggle

“He was just born”, you whispered, “it’s normal”, you explained softly, Jahaera didn’t say anything, but looked at the baby with big ghostly eyes, and for the very first time, you thought you catched a glimpse of a smile

“Jahaera? want to hold him?”, she seemed truly surprised, you just patted the bed right next to you, and she climbed to your side, when she was settled, you placed your baby in her arms, she seemed content, only watching him in her frail arms

“He is small”, she murmured, you only smiled, he was a bit small, and… “made of ice and fire”, she whispered

“What?”, you asked, but you were interrupted when Cregan opened the door, he stood there, with a warm smile on his face.

You didn’t even know how you were going to name him, I mean, you had some ideas, and you were not even going to ask your husband, he, your firstborn, was of the realm, of the Iron Throne, he had to have a name of Old Valyria

Jahaera excuse herself, she had a lesson with her septa, but Aegon stayed, sitting there in the bed by your side, Cregan had left to gather the court

“Can I ask you something?”, your baby brother asked

“Anything”, you answered truthfully

“Now that you have a son… will you… will you still love me the same?”, he asked, and his big eyes told you he was extremely worried. That truly surprised you, but you smiled softly nonetheless.

“Of course!”, you said with a big smile, “you are my baby brother, I will never stop loving you, and I will never stop caring for you, you heard me? you are stuck with me, and your little nephew for life”, you giggled

“Really?”, he asked, hopefully

“I promise”, you assured him.

Cregan came back, thinking he had given you enough time, Aegon as he saw him, he excused himself from the room, and left

“A name, wife”, he demanded. He was the father, but he is letting you name your child, the prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne

“Aerion”, you said with your son back in your arms, “of House Stark, until he ascends the Throne, as Aerion Targaryen”, you said firmly

“Good”, he said, “the small council is waiting”, he said, and again, he did not expect a no for an answer

“Very well”, he received your son, as you stood from the bed, the maids had placed you the “looser” dress you had, but not less impressive than any others, it was soft red velvet, with black and gold details. Your hair is barely arranged by two small braids arranging it off your face.

You barely let the maids touch your child, but they had dressed him too, in a simple golden attire. He was sleeping in his father’s arms, and you held onto him too, as you walked the hallways.

You had to present your son to the court

Not letting them see him, would awaken all sorts of gossip, that maybe there was something wrong with him, or he was weak, or any nonsense like that, this was going to make it clear to everyone…

The House of the Dragon stood strong, with you, your son, your brother, and your niece.

Especially with the silver hair on his head.

“You have done beautifully, wife”, Your husband said, as he saw you pondering, with your eyes lost in front of you

“Thank you husband”, you answered simply

You were already tired as you reached the huge doors, you hoped you didn’t have to sit on the throne today, you didn’t think you could handle it. You were still really sensitive.

“Lady (y/n) of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Roynar and the first Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm, and her Lord Husband Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand to the Queen, would like to present to the court, Aerion, of House Targaryen and Stark, Prince of Dragonstone!”, you might as well announce it now, the shocked faces appeared before you, your son was the heir, and next King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The huge doors of the entrance of the throne room opened in front of you, you tried to smile as the entire court, your court, tried their best they could to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Prince in Cregan’s arms

You walked slowly to the front, smiling and nodding to everyone on their way

All the Lords and Ladies nodded at you, muttering words of kindness

“Congratulations my Queen”

“What a fine Prince your grace!”

“You had been blessed, and you had blessed us all”

And more

So much more

Your council had been waiting for your approval, to start the celebrations, feasts, tournaments, parties, the first ones since the end of the war

“Behold! Prince Aerion of House Targaryen and Stark!”, chanted Arryk, you faithful Queen’s guard.

It was a tiring affair, you should be resting, and Cregan thought so as well, but you you a Queen, and if you wished to prove those who wouldn’t see your mother on the throne wrong, you have to stand there, with your newborn son, in front of the court as you barely gave birth the day before as the sun was setting

“In the celebrations of the birth of my son, I announce a big tournament, to join all countries as one, and also, a big feast to go with it!”, you said loudly, and the entire room bursted in cheers and applause, making Aerion cry angrily, as he was startled by the loud noise

Cregan smiled grabbing him carefully with his strong hands and showed him to the entire room, shortly, then he cuddled him into his strong chest, he looked so proud

The tournament was going to be held in two months time

This was a new era, you constantly had to be remained of

The kingdoms were still healing, you were still healing… you need this, you did

You were finally “allowed” to go back to your rooms, you dismissed the nannies who had offered to take your baby.

It was normal and customary, that you had a small army of women ready to take care of your child, but you didn’t want to let him out of your sight

Is not that you didn't trust them, it was just…

It felt odd

To be apart from him

You had them bring a crib by the side of your bed, as you watched him asleep tears fell down your eyes… oh how you wished your mother was there with you

You had cried for her in the middle of labor, how you needed her warmth, her maternity, her advice, all of her. She was an excellent mother, she adored each and every one of you, and you didn’t know how you were going to do this without her

You were so lonely

You had dismissed your ladies, and the nurses were unfamiliar to you

Because Aegon the Usurper killed your mother’s nurses when he took Dragonstone

You felt so lonely.

The all familiar pain that had installed on your chest came flourishing back again, and you realized it had never left, you just grown accustomed to it

Would she be proud of you?

You imagined your brothers coming to see your son, Jacaerys picking him up from his crib and raising him in his strong arms, you imagined Luke grabbing onto Aerion with gentle hands, accommodating him on his chest with his beautiful smile looking down at his nephew

The guards outside your room presented Cregan who entered the room with scrolls on his hands

“Letters, from your cousins Baela and Rhaena, and one from Lord Co…”

“Dispose of them”, you demanded, you didn’t care

“But…”

“I don’t care what those traitors have to say”, you said bluntly, he had caught you in a wrong moment

“Wife…”, he started carefully, “may I ask why…?”, he asked simply, you guessed he wanted to hear your version of the facts

“Corlys Velaryon served my mother, until it suited him, when the ship was sinking, in the moment my mother needed him the most, he betrayed her, then served the usurper!”, you said bluntly

“He probably was the one who poisoned the usurper”, he said softly

“I guess, it didn’t suit him to keep serving him, I don’t care”, you said angrily, “if he had stayed at my mother’s side like he promised perhaps she would still be here”, you said, you could not forgive him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to

And Baela and Rhaena?

It just hurt too much

At one point they were like your sisters, like real sisters, you had lived together since your mother married Daemon, and… now it just hurts too much. They say Rhaena managed to hatch a dragon, a pink little thing

Good for her

But it just… it hurts… of all the people that could have survived…

You felt guilty for only thinking about it

They were more Corlys Velaryon’s granddaughters that they were your sisters

“Can I read them?”, he asked, you looked at him

You wanted to say no, you did, but you were also terribly curious

Of what they might want or say… What if was indeed something important? and really, it was Cregan, he was the only one you trusted fully

“Yes”, you said shortly, “let me know if there is something important”. He sat by the window, to read the letter by the sunlight, Aerion began to get fuzzy, so you grabbed him gently and started to feed him

Something very frowned upon

Not even your mother had breastfeed her babies

But to your understanding… who better to feed a future King… than a Queen? his mother? You paid it no more mind as he latched onto you, Cregan didn’t even batted an eye

He was frowning a he read the missives

“Is there something they need?”, you asked dismissively, “a threat to our Kingdom?”

“No”, he said simply, “just a call for you, their sister”, he said, he folded the letters and put them away, then he opened the one of Lord Corlys

“They wish you the best regarding the birth of your child and Prince of Dragonstone, and they wish to know that if there is anything they can do for you”

“No requests… that’s a new one”, you said sadly

“Please, help me understand”, he pleaded once again, “what are you thinking?”

“They just keep wanting the fucking throne”, you said bitterly, “that is all this whole thing had been about, the Hightowers and Velaryons alike, each for their own side, sunk their teeth into the targaryen of their choice and bit, ripped and tear them apart for their own convenience, for the fucking throne, killing my entire family in the process, I am done with them”, you sentenced.

“Very well”, he said, “I will stand by you”

“Thanks”, you said smiling softly, not wanting to discuss the issue further

Even if they were true, that they only were calling for you, their “granddaughter” and sister, how could you ever trust that? if you were not seated on the throne, would they still care for you?

You were convinced they only wanting to fall back into your good graces, the graces of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and everything that meant

And the very fact that they knew about the birth of your son so soon unnerved you.

Of course they had spies inside the castle

Perhaps you should burn the letters publicly so words get to them

But it was of no consequence, because that very day, Cregan received important news

His son was arriving

He was in the Crossroads Inn, and he was dying to go and meet him

You allowed him to go with a small force, you had never seen him so happy and excited. He was on his way to meet his son

And taking advantage of that fact, that was going to take him a few days… You realized, thinking about Rhaena…

Your son needed his egg

You had felt Vhaelar restless, and you needed to know if she had laid her clutch of eggs, or, egg

Singular

The very thought frightened you, what if it didn’t hatch? She as well could be the last Dragon, a grown, fertile dragon. You called in a Dragon keeper immediately, and he presented in front of you, the one that went inside the cave with you, the only one who could get close to your Dragon

“This is long overdue, your Grace”, he said with a soft smile

“I cannot go down there myself”, you explained softly, his face then changed. “What's the matter?”, you asked him

“Vhaelar laid eggs, we didn’t know how many, when the prince was born we adventure into the cave to find… one is gone”, it seemed like everything froze around you

“What?”, you asked

“One of the nests was… broken into”, he said

“Why wasn't I informed of this!?”, you asked angrily

“We found it this very morning”, he said quickly

“Raised alarms!”, you said

“The one that stole it… didn’t realize, she laid two eggs”, he gave a signal to Erryk who was at the door and he opened them to reveal two more Dragon Keeper, that brought with them the heating chamber

A sight you never thought you’d see again

They revealed the egg to you, and tears were brought to your eyes, it was golden, golden like the sun

Was it an Omen? Golden like Syrax… Golden like Sunfyre

Who could have possibly stolen my dragon’s egg?”, you asked him

We don’t know your grace, it must have been someone who knows the area, that its been heavily guarded, even though its against the sea, you had maintain guards around it, and over it, so we can’t understand…”, you kept quiet, you could barely go up stairs, you couldn’t go personally.

That is why she was so restless

Somebody stole her egg

“What if it hatches?”, you asked him, fright in your eyes, he didn’t know what to answer

“A dragon will only answer to a Targaryen your grace, in the worst case, it will grow wild, until we can finally know where it is”

“And in the best case?”

“It’s not normal for two eggs to hatch in the same clutch”, he said softly, “if the Prince’s egg hatches… then… someone still had a treasure in their hands but at least, it will not be a dragon”

It did not settle your nerves

You saw the beautiful egg, it seemed to move, you could feel it, the life within it

“Thank you”, you said finally, and they left you alone.

It wasn’t until a week later, as you fixed the skirt on your dress, that you finally realized how important this was.

Rickon Stark, Cregan’s son, was entering the city

Your husband’s child

Your own child, by marriage

A sweet boy of eight

Soldiers entered in front of the comitive, mounted men with the Stark sigil, and then, right after them, Cregan in all his glory, and at his side, on his own horse, a young boy, that even from afar, you could tell he looked exactly like Cregan, same shade of hair, and as they dismounted and walked towards you, you realized, he had his eyes

“Your Grace, my I present to you, my son and heir, Rickon Stark”, presented Cregan

“Your grace”, the boy greeted politely, his big eyes looking at you widely, even though he bowed. Cregan was by his side, looking at his son proudly

“My Lord, you are most welcomed to King’s landing, and to the Red Keep”, you greeted, amused, he smiled shyly.

“Thank you, your grace”, he looked at you with mistrust, and you could understand him, all of this was new for him.

You of course invited them in, the entire household he had brought with him was large, but, the more the merrier, and if having more of his people with him was going to make Cregan and RIckon feel more comfortable, they were most welcomed.

“There is someone I want you to meet”, you said happily, he only nodded, you looked at Cregan as you walked back to your chambers, and he seemed content, “Can I call you Rickon?”, you asked him softly

“Yes your Grace, of course”, he said simply

“Are you my new mommy?”, he asked bluntly, and you looked at Cregan, alarmed, he was amused, but didn’t say anything, you then looked back at the boy who was looking up at you with his big ghostly eyes

“I don’t have to be if you don’t want me to”, you said gently, and that seemed to relax him a bit, “but there is a place I’d like you to fill”, you said with a solemn voice, like you were requesting of him, you opened yourself the double doors to your room

“Which one, your grace?”, he asked solemnly

“How about.. big brother?”, you asked, inviting him to look inside the cradle where his baby brother was sleeping peacefully

“I’d like that”, he said, pleased, but frowned at further inspection of your baby, “why is his hair white?”, he asked, you giggled

“Because he got it from me”, you said softly

“I thought you had white hair because you were old”, he said simply, and you laughed, hard

The sound of your own laugh seemed so foreign to you

You haven't laughed in…

In…

In a long time

“No, no my dear, I was born with my hair like this”, you explained softly, he only nodded, understanding clearly, “so… are you going to be Aerion’s big brother?”, you asked, and he looked at you with a true smile for the very first time, and nodded excitedly

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burning-academia-if · 2 days

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I'm so sorry for all the notifications lmao I'm going around liking every ask because i haven't been on the page for a bit. And why the fuck is all the asks making me like Lars. I don't want to like Lara because Lara doesn't want to like my MC.. i already have enough problems with Rook 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I need to stay away from these problematic ROs. 😭

Oh quessssstiiioooon someone's probably asked this before but I've seen it on a few blogs. But since magic is obvs a thing. If someone cursed MC or gave them something that could only be broken by true love's kiss (especially since mc doesn't really have the healthiest relationship with those they are close to so who would think they could break a spell like that)

and it's after they've confessed to the ROs. How would they react to MC not waking up at first after they kissed them... but waking up after they've started having a major meltdown after all?

If you have gotten this ask could i please have a link because finding anything on tumblr is... 😒

And i literally fall in love with this goddamn IF every time i read anything on this page. It's a curse in itself... I hope you have a lovely weekend 🤣😇💜

Omg never apologize for mass liking, that's literally anyone on Tumblr's lifeblood lol

Also you know, I feel like Lars, despite being the biggest asshole of the ROs, is still less of a handful then Rook lmfaO good luck with dealing with them!

Also I have not been asked this one before! Felt very inspired it with, so I turned it into a prompt!

Rook:

You’re so still against the touch of his lips. You’re still even after he pulls away. His chest buzzes so loud it echoes in his ears. You don’t move, not even the flutter of your lashes and he should have known. How can he be your true love, when he spent so many years running away?

Whoever it is, would look you in the eyes when you said you loved them. They’re someone who would have taken you in their arms instead of turning away again and again. He sinks to his knees, hands clutching at the side of the bed where you lay. Tears burn at his eyes, but not a single one falls.

Even before he made this foolish decision, he knew. All that’s left is to find the one could wake up. If you’re life lays in the hands of someone else, a fact he always knew, then so be it.

He’ll let you go, like he should have so long ago. He will. He just needs another moment here with you before he turns away. He needs to hear your heartbeat and the cadence of your breathing for one last time.

Time passes as slow as honey, thick and opaque. His body is listless. In the silence, your breath catches and he blinks. Turns. You take another shaky breath, and when your eyes open, he’s on his feet.

“MC!” He gathers you in his arms, holding on tight. “Oh, thank god. I thought I lost you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

His forehead falls against your shoulder, and the tears finally fall. Your awake, your body is warm. And maybe, just maybe, he really does have a chance to make things right.

Beck:

When you don’t move after he pulls away, he doesn’t waver. Magic is strange, it can effect everyone differently, and with how much magic has affected you, he isn’t concerned that there isn’t an immediate response.

Instead, he takes a seat next to where you lay. He brings his knees up to his chest and tells you about all the things you’ve missed. The first flowers of spring, the new used bookstore that opened up on the corner, school events, and class drama.

The time ticks down, and it pricks at his heart. He keeps talking. About himself, about his life, about how he first fell for you, about how you are the warmth of the fire on a winter day, and if even if he isn’t your true love, then that’s ok. He’s just so glad he was able to have any time with you at all.

At some point, his throat is dry and he’s run out of words. What can he say, as the sky turns a dusty orange. He swallows, eyes fluttering closed and feel the first of the tears fall. If it isn’t him to wake you up, then who will it be? And how long will you be cursed to sleep until they find you?

A world without your laugh is far worse than a world where the two of you aren’t meant to be.

Then.

You shift beside him, and he goes still. When he looks, he sees your eyes flutter open, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him.

“…You’re awake.” He says, voice barely above a whisper. He brushes his fingers against your cheek, so impossibly gently. “You’re awake.”

He laughs, a watery, trembly sort of laugh, as he runs a thumb against your cheek. You’ll still be with him.

Rhea:

“Please wake up.” She whispers, kneeling next to you. There is no sign the kiss did anything. It’s fine, this isn’t the end of the world. She has had the logic of magic seared into her brain, and she knows how it works. She’ll wait. She can wait.

But still, you remain still. She gets up and moves around, to give her body something to do as she waits. She’s not good at that, waiting. She always needs to be in the midst of doing something. Making progress. When something’s out of her hands like this, she feels like she’s in freefall.

There might be a chance, she thinks as time ticks by, that you and her aren’t the ones for each other. Somehow, it makes the anxious energy in her gut easier to deal with. As long as she doesn’t think of the heartbreak that will hit the moment she leaves your side, it gives her a plan. Something to work towards. Steps to map out to figure out where to go from here and how to wake you up. The process of even finding the one who could do so.

She’s on step four when your fingers twitch. She goes still in response. All her thoughts scatter. Like a deer in headlights she watches you, wondering if it was just her imagination. But then your body shifts and she’s next to you again, softly calling your name.

“MC? Can you…can you hear me darling?” When you blink away, she feels a smile bloom despite herself. You’re awake and well and still hers.

Zoe:

There’s doubt in their chest even before they press a kiss against your lips. For it to be them? They’re not the kind of person who makes it into fairytales. They know this. Stories are the sort of thing they’ve studied their entire life. They exist on the other side of the glass, able to peer in but never able to be.

As you remain still, they stand and lean back on their heel. Whoever your true love is, it isn’t them. It isn’t that they doubt your love, but it’s hard to imagine that kind of forever for them. If this was the fate they were dealt, then so be it. And even so, you were their first love, and that’s a kind of special whatever comes next can’t take away. Even on different paths, even living different lives, you can both still be a fond memory for the other.

But god, they’ve never experience heartbreak either or the way it collides into their body and leaves them breathless. They wanted this. Every moment with you was a dream they never thought they’d get a chance to see. They were awkward and clumsy, and they were the luckiest person alive to have been able to met you.

They press a hand against their mouth, to stop the sob that’s trying to break through them. The image of you blurs as tears collect in their eyes and stream down their cheeks. They squeeze their eyes shut, trying to collect themselves.

It’s why it startles them, when they feel a hand reaching out, “…Zoe?”

They choke on a gasp, eyes flying open to see you awake. You’ve pulled yourself up, and your eyes are open. It strikes them so suddenly, they all but throw themselves against you. Any embarrassment they used to feel is gone. They’ll never let themselves hesitate again.

Lars:

“You would get yourself cursed.” He whispered against your lips as he pulls away. He doesn’t believe in true love or soulmates. For a curse to be based on the concept, it must make it the flimsiest curse to have been made. All it really needs is love and faith and stubbornness. Maybe his faith is lacking, but he sure as hell can make up for it with stubbornness.

So he waits. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and wonders how long it will take. His hand toys with your fingers absently. With you asleep, you won’t be able to comment on the display. He still remembers when you said you loved him, the look in your eyes that left no room for doubt. He thought you were making a terrible decision, but he wasn’t one to complain. Your terrible decision, just lead to his great decision to go along with it.

The time passes slow, but the anxiety never comes. That isn’t who he is. Not when he’s sure about this, or at least more sure about it then whatever magic was used on you. And even if the kiss doesn’t wake you up, he’ll just find whoever cursed you in the first place and make them reap the consequences.

When he feels your hand move, slipping your fingers between his, he sighs, “About time you got up.”

“Lars? My hand—”

“Don’t get used to it.” You laugh, the sound scratchy from sleep, and he feels his body relax. It was nice to have you back.

???:

They know your souls are too entwined to have a doubt. That doesn’t not mean there won’t be blood on their hands for what was done to you. How dare someone curse the one they love. How dare someone put their hands on you.

They’re kiss is so painfully soft despite the violent rage in their chest. It’s been so long since they’ve felt this burning under their skin. Did the Curse Giver think you were alone and unloved? Did they not realize you had someone who was entwined with you in every way, down to the way you take a breath.

The wraiths flicker around them, agitated by the tremble in their body. They keep close to you, body curved as a way to shield you from the rest of the earth. If you don’t wake soon, they’re hands will find a blade, and that blade will find a body. The wraiths whisper amongst each other, as though capable of soothing them.

“But you were cursed even before this, weren’t you?” They breathe, pressing another kiss to your forehead. You shift beneath them, and when they pull away you open your eyes.

You say their name, and the sound of it wraps around them. They have a Curse Giver to kill, but for now, they only lay down beside you, and ask if you’re ok. You’ve been asleep for so long, and it took too long to get to you. They’ll never be late again.

#em answers #ch: rook #ch: beck #ch: rhea #ch: zoe #ch: lars #ch: ???#true loves kiss in the world of fairytales? more likely then you think #also got to write angry ??? for the first time let's goooo

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dont-hug-me-im-a-talking-thing · 2 years

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Here's a cake for you all 🎂 :)))) enjoy!

#Mun Leafbug: OMG???? YALL THIS IS SO CRAZY #I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’VE REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS?? HOW ARE THERE SO MANY OF YOU!!!#I hope you continue to enjoy my blog!! I didn’t expect it to get so much attention!#Thank you ALL so so so much!!!#It really means a lot to me!!!#Also!! Asks are open again!! I just needed to catch up :)#btw I read all your tags and they make me really happy :D #dhmis #dhmis askblog #dhmis red guy #dhmis duck #dhmis yellow guy #red guy #duck #yellow guy

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ilonacho · 6 months

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it hit me what makes me the most miserable abt my work week is how it’s just school all over again. just hanging in there until the weekend. repeat. repeat. repeat

#5 outta 7 days im at work. 2 days of freedom #2 days to do chores n run errands n relax n sleep n draw n catch up w/ friends n go places #and if u gotta reschedule itll be weeks before ur available again #like for months now ive tried to get together w/ friends but our days off dont match n shit keeps coming up #not to mention im fucking tired! im exhausted! i want to sleep in and then draw the rest of the day!#i think the worst part is that back in school.. at least it didnt matter as much? because it all led to an end aka graduation?#like i didnt mind the wait for next weekend as much cuz it was temporary #like eventually ill graduate and then ill have freedom! (i thought? for some reason??)#but now its like.. the weeks are going by so fast this year is already almost over i turn 26 in 2 weeks #and this is.. the rest of my life? like youre kidding right? this cant be it?#i get off work n then i have to take care of the cats n chores n then eat dinner n then shower n then its late and i gotta sleep #before work the next day. i dont have time nor energy to rly do anything #and ill get that feeling of like. oh well at least it brings me closer to the next ‘weekend’#but i dont wanna live weekend to weekend #i mean im thankful to have a job n coworkers i love like i truly hate it there sometimes but i also am happy and thankful for it #but yknow.. it shouldnt have to be like this #i worded this so much better in the shower but im tired of feeling like school part 2 like what the fuck man #ive had work every single day since we came back from our trip n i just dont have time/energy for anything #i need to open commissions back up but i havent even gotten around to starting one a friend asked for #not to mention this years christmas card ive barely got the sketch done for #and again. my favourite holiday. halloween is on tuesday and while we did plan halloweeny stuff it just has not felt like halloween #i havent had any ideas/energy/time for any halloweeny art #+chores n errands etc lmao we havent even been to the grocery store yet (calling us out here)#it just. suuuuucks aaaaaass man the world is so beautiful life is a gift i dont wanna spend it like this

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arklay · 1 year

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Hi. I just wanted to say that I absolutely fell in love with ewskers. I hope things will get better for you <з

omg aaaa thank you so much!! this means so much to me, truly 💖💖 i’ve been having a really weird time lately and on top of that all like i really want to talk about them, but i just feel like no one cares, so this was really nice to hear, thank you!!

#asks.#anonymous #i can’t sleep and just saw this and had to respond before i forgot about it but just thank you really!! they mean so much to me and i know #they’re just silly lil fictional guys but they really just bring me so much joy so i’m glad you like them!! i also love that we all call #them the ewskers like i love that that caught on!!! i was going to try do a template for like tomorrow? 2 days? idk it’s 1am rn for jan 15 #for miss diana because like that’s my hc birthday for her freak of a hubby but idk if i’ll be able to get that done cause i’ve been so #drained and fatigued and i like it’s been hard for me to do a bunch but aaaaa rambling again but i’m like half asleep idk how coherent this #is or when i’ll catch up on my notes and tracked tag cause like i just haven’t been able to come on here like it was overwhelming me so much #and just opening the app was making me like upset?? i just don’t feel great at the moment but i’ve been more active on twt if any of you use #that. i need to update my links on here but i’m arklay_ on there!! okay i’m going eepy tysm again!! 💖💖💖

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toastsnaffler · 6 months

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trying to figure out how tf I'm gonna get home from this gig next week..

#doors open 7 and they only have 1 support so i would expect support to be on at 8 and the main act at 9 but it finishes at 11......#but id need to leave around 10pm to catch the last train home if i miss that im fuuuucked #but that might mean missing out on most of their set if they dont start until 9:30 or later :(#ahhhhh #i have a friend who still lives in that city so maybe ill ask them if they could put me up for a night..... hmm #i think they live a fair distance from the venue tho.. if i miss some of it i miss some of it i guess. its not the end of the world #they HAVR announced new dates for next year and theyre playing in my current city so maybe. i could resell these tix #and just go see them in february instead #WAIT. THE ONE IN FEB IS LITERALLY 10 MINS WALK FROM MY FLAT ??????#what the fuck. well i might as well just do that then lmaooo #saves me buying train tickets too #theres a gig w 4 post punk bands next week that i also really wanna go to bc one of the bands i LOVEEE but i think id run into the same-#problem travelling there ARGHHHH #so fucking annoying cuz its a tiny venue (~200 capacity) so rly intimate and they have such good sound there ive been before #and the band i love is relatively small and canadian so the odds of them playing here again are slim to none so 😭😭😭😭#ill check the venue page maybe theyll end a bit earlier so its feasible. maaaannn #i havent been to enough live music lately i rly need to get back into it #theres a jmath band ive seen before on tour again i think they hit my city in a couple weeks so might go to that they were sick last time #we will SEE #anyway lunchtime baby #.diaries

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arminsumi · 7 months

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THE HORNIEST

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Summary : Horny!Gojo needs you so bad, he's insatiable. A menace.

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content, it's very horny lol, not proofread, c*mshots and creampies, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, implied drunk sex

Note : lmk if you want more horny gojo lol 👍 reqs open!! anyways lol the title cracks me up. he ain't the strongest he's the horniest :(

Horny!Gojo introduces himself to you in the flirtiest way possible, cooing a sweet and drunk "Who invited the goddess?" into your ear. He's sat on the couch with you, one night at a stupid frat party. Starstruck by you. And your reciprocation made his chest feel fluttery for the first time in years. It also made his dick stand up in his pants.

Horny!Gojo leans into you for the whole night, whispering flirty things and dirty jokes into your ear like his mind is a factory pumping them out. You match his playful energy so well, he says "I think we're made for each other."

Horny!Gojo has his sharp eyes wandering to your thighs, then your shoulders, then your lips as you speak — and he licks his lips to wet them.

Horny!Gojo showers you in compliment after compliment, relishing in your reactions and getting greedier; he needs to get you alone. "Wanna go someplace quieter?" he has to shout over the music to ask you.

Horny!Gojo assures you with cocky confidence, "Yeah, I could make you cum. Aw, don't give me that eyeroll, it's turning me on. I know for a fucking fact I could make you cum. I could make those eyes roll back. I could make your legs shake."

Horny!Gojo squeezes your hand tightly when he leads you upstairs, and giggles with you as the two of you escape into a quiet, empty bedroom. His heart is panging so hard in his chest. His body feels electric. He's so horny it's the only thing he can focus on.

Horny!Gojo whimpers when you crash your lips into his. He starts making out wildly with you like he's a sex-deprived loser. Because he is. A sex-deprived, touch-starved college boy.

Horny!Gojo hits those deep, hard strokes with no breaks just to destroy you. He never lets up. Never stops to have a breather or lets you catch your own breath. "Working up a sweat b—abyyy? Too much dick stuffing your little cunt? Yeah? Is it too much? Too big? Too deep? Fuck, you're gonna squeeze my dick off, haha, calm down. It's just a little dirty talk."

Horny!Gojo murmurs into your ear, "All I wanna do is make you finish over and over again." desperation and conviction in his voice. He really just wanted to fuck you into bliss, have you dumb on his fat cock, have you squirming and whimpering and going feral for him.

Horny!Gojo pins you down like a beast but also pounds into you like he's the bitch in heat. "Oh my god oh my god yes yes yes fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckkkk that pussy's so fuckin' gooooodddd" he's a mess, just swearing and moaning like a broken record.

Horny!Gojo almost sobs your name into your mouth when he cums, draining every drop of cum that he's worked up for you in the past hour.

Horny!Gojo turns his creampies into whipped cream with his thrusts, smacking his hips so hard into you that you feel his balls slap against your ass. They're so heavy and full, makes you think that if you weren't on birth control you'd definitely get knocked up with just one of his fat nuts.

Horny!Gojo goes round after round, becoming a melting sweaty mess of a man and feeling his muscles tire out. He pins you to the bed with his whole weight, and gives you his all just to show off a little.

Horny!Gojo has such a strained but enthusiastic voice after fucking you into next year with his dick. "Wow... that pussy's so fucking creamy." he grins toothily. A sweat drop beads off his cheek. His bangs are stuck messily to his forehead, some brushed to the side.

Horny!Gojo is insatiable, he calls you long after the party, over and over, shows up at your door and relishes in how his horniness rubs off on you. He's always a giggly mess in bed with you.

Horny!Gojo needs you so bad some days that he comes to you straight after his workout at the gym, no shower just sweaty gym boy abs, and fucks you as a way to "push his limits" for like three hours.

Horny!Gojo needs to cum everywhere he can. It's like he has a cumshot checklist. Thighs? Yes. Tummy? Yes. Ass? Yes. Chest? Yes. Face? Yes. Pussylips? Yes. Hands? Yes. In your panties? Yes.

Horny!Gojo is so fucking cute when he kisses you after sex, nuzzling your neck like a cat and telling you how good you treat him with that five star pussy.

Horny!Gojo jerks himself alone when you can't come over :( always to you, of course. Sexts like a menace. He's a bit too good at it.

Horny!Gojo gets so pussy drunk sometimes that he begs you to become his wife. His dick feels so raw and sensitive but he keeps squeezing it into that tight hole of yours.

Horny!Gojo is obsessed with you, mind body and soul. Just the sight of you and sound of you makes his dick stand up. And then he's whisking you off your feet and frantically throwing you onto the bed, and you're giggling at your horny boyfriend— oh... when did that happen? Hm. Well now he's your boyfriend.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

#smut #mdni #gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x fem reader smut #gojo x fem reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader

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inkskinned · 6 months

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in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

#writeblr #warm up

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scuderiahoney · 2 months

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Pick You Up

Max Verstappen x reader

Masterlist

Summary: when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls. Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: alcohol, intoxication, maybe an unhealthy relationship with alcohol??, mentions of Max’s shitty childhood, incorrect taylor swift lyrics

It’s 1am, and your phone is buzzing on the nightstand. You groan and shove your face into the pillow. You were having such a nice dream. Something about an island and a very attractive man. You let the phone ring until it stops, and then you hold your breath. Maybe it was a butt dial. Maybe it’s not what you think.

The buzzing starts again, and you blindly slam your hand onto the nightstand, grabbing for it. You swipe to answer without even looking at the contact. You already know who it is. Or at the very least, who they’re calling you about. It’s never anyone else.

“Max needs a ride,” a friend of his says.

You’re already rolling out of bed. “Yeah. Where?”

You could complain, you suppose, as you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket. You could ask them to find literally anyone else, or beg them to have a designated driver for once, but instead you just slip your shoes on. You rub the sleep from your eyes and grab a Red Bull on the way out the door. Someone sends you an address from a number you don’t even have saved in your phone. Worry claws at your chest.

The truth is, you’ll never complain about Max calling you in the middle of the night, because if he stopped calling you’d worry about who he was relying on. Max is… popular. He’s got a lot of people trying to ride his coattails. He gets invited to events and people buy him drinks and offer him things and then it’s 1am and he’s too drunk to get home on his own. And then he calls you. Or, more often, someone calls you for him.

You pull up in front of the club, and Max is already outside, stumbling on clumsy feet. He lurches towards your car when he sees it, which is a relief, because you hadn’t exactly wanted to get out of the car. You find yourself resenting whoever he was out with for leaving him all alone, but he opens the door and climbs in and you plaster a smile onto your face.

“Hi, schatje,” he slurs, and you muffle a laugh into your shoulder.

“Hi, Maxie,” you say.

This is the only time he calls you things like that. It’s also the only time you can call him Maxie without earning yourself a warning glare, or worse, an elbow to the rib cage. You’ve known him for years, and yet it’s only when he’s wasted that he doesn’t mind the nickname.

“Seatbelt,” you remind him.

He nods and tugs at the belt. You end up having to help him buckle- that happens about 70% of the time. His fingers fumble with the latch as you do so, and he lets out a little huff when you brush his hand away. Once he’s all set, you pat his shoulder lightly and lean back into your seat.

“I’m drunk,” he warns you.

“I know,” you answer.

“So no crazy driving. I don’t want to be sick in your very nice car.”

You laugh and cock your head at him. “This morning you called this car a shitbox.”

He nods. “It is. But it is your shitbox.”

You laugh again, putting the car into drive. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

He rambles the whole drive to his apartment, about all the people he was out with tonight and what they did and who they did. Drunk Max is a bit of a gossip, and his gossiping to you won’t get him in trouble, so he takes full advantage of it. You listen eagerly the entire time, though you keep your eyes focused on the road. He’s not the most drunk you’ve ever seen him, still too drunk to be in a cab or an Uber by himself but coherent enough that the journey up to his apartment shouldn’t be too difficult. You park your car in his parking lot and climb out.

Max is halfway out of his seat when you come around to meet him. You take his hand and help him the rest of the way up. He stumbles a bit, laughing as you catch him. Then he throws his arm around your shoulder and follows you to the elevator.

His head bumps into yours in the process. You lean into the weight of him, the two of you standing like a badly built lean to. If one of you topples, the other will too. You try not to think about that too much.

You stay the night, the way you always do when this happens. Because the only thing a hungover Max hates more than the sunlight is waking up to an empty apartment. You’ll be there in the morning to take care of him. He’ll promise he won’t do it again.

By this time next week, he’ll be out at a club, and you’ll have the volume on your phone turned up.

…..

The next time someone calls you on Max’s behalf, it’s someone you actually know. It’s 2am this time, and your eyes are closed. You’re drifting in that space between consciousness and dreams. Your ringtone almost becomes a part of a half dream before you realize what it is. You turn the phone over. NoRizzz, it reads. You think Max added the contact for you.

You answer. “Hi, Lando. S’it Max?” You ask.

“I swear to god I lost track of him for one second-“ Lando rushes out.

You pause halfway out of bed, feeling a jolt of worry at the frantic tone in his voice. “Lando?”

“He’s gone, he-“ He sounds panicked. “I turned around and he’s-“

“Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him-“ Lando scoffs. “Look, I wouldn’t be so worried if I hadn’t already been thinking about having you pick him up-“

“Hey, hey, slow down,” you say, though your heart is racing as you head for the door. “Where are you? How long has it been since you lost him?”

“We’re at Jimmyz, it’s been a half hour,” Lando admits. “I didn’t want to bother you, but-“

A half hour is a long time for Max. He could be anywhere in the city right now. He could’ve walked, or taken a cab, or… anything. Sober Max is great at self preservation. Drunk Max is easily persuaded. You’ve used it to your advantage more than you’d like to admit. Not in any bad way, just- Max, sing karaoke with me! Max, come dance with me! Max, we should order pizza!

You head for the front door. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll come meet you, and then-“

You swing the door open and nearly scream when something heavy tumbles into your apartment. Someone, actually, upon further inspection. It’s Max, lit only by the dim hallway light and a beam from the kitchen light that you always leave on. He’s blinking up at you from the floor, a soft smile on his face. He has his arms wrapped around himself, like he’s cold. His skin is damp with sweat.

“Never mind, I found him,” you say into the phone.

“What? How?” Lando asks, bewildered.

“He was sitting in front of my door,” you answer as you crouch down. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, and Max smiles. “Must’ve taken a cab or something.”

“I walked,” Max admits.

That explains the sweat. That also tells you that Lando has lied to you- Max has been gone much longer than a half hour if he’s made his way here on foot. You choose not to call the other driver out on it, though. You want them to call you about things like this. If you chew him out, Lando will be less likely to do so.

“So he’s okay?” Lando asks.

“He’s fine,” you assure him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up and then start working on getting Max all the way into the apartment. He’s not much help. You manage to get his legs inside and then you close the door behind him. You’ll work on getting him out of the hallway next. For now, you sit down on the floor next to him.

“You walked here?” You ask.

He nods. “Missed you.”

You snort out a laugh. “You could’ve called me, I would’ve picked you up.”

He shrugs and shuts his eyes. “Didn’t want to bug you.”

“So you camped out in front of my door,” you say.

“Yes. But then you didn’t have to come pick me up.”

“I’ll always pick you up,” you say, brushing your thumb against his temple. “That’s what friends do.”

When he opens his eyes, they’re glassy. Your breath hitches. Max doesn’t get teary often, doesn’t get emotional often. Something aches in your chest. You rub your thumb over his cheekbone. He blinks once, twice, lashes tangled together.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He sounds so small when he says it. “Just. Thanks.”

There are these small moments, when Max shows a vulnerable side. These are the moments you think of when people spread vitriol towards him on the internet and ask how you could possibly be friends with him. They make you love him even more, and they make you resent the adults who were around him when he was growing up.

You’ve seen pictures of little Max, shown to you with funny anecdotes and teasing smiles. But when you look at them, and when you see him like this, you can’t find any of it funny. All you can think of is the other stories you’ve heard about his childhood. All you can wonder is how someone could’ve done those things to him. And then you wonder how despite it all, he ended up with such a kind soul.

Max is the one who brings you soup when you’re sick. He brings you trinkets from every country he goes to- the magnets fill the door of your fridge. Max sends you pictures of dogs he meets on the street even though he’s a cat person. He flies you out to races when you’ve had a bad week and buys you good pasta and better tequila. Max has a heart the size of a whole continent. People keep trying to chip away at it. You hate them for it.

So you take a moment to brush the tears from his cheeks. You don’t ask him why he’s crying, or tell him it’ll be okay. You just sit there on the floor with him in your hallway and wait for him to be ready.

Eventually, you get him up off the floor and drag him into your bedroom. It’ll be better for everyone involved if he gets a good night’s sleep in a real bed. You try to leave the room, but he grabs onto your wrist.

“Stay?” He asks, eyelids barely open.

You hum and brush the hair from his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“M’sure,” he says. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

You nod in understanding. You don’t even bother pointing out that he’s on your side of the bed. He’s too far gone to get him to roll over. You just climb over him and pull the blankets back and then tuck yourself in. You keep a respectable distance from him.

You know in the morning you’ll wake up to his arm around your middle and his face buried in your neck. You know because it happens every time you share a bed. Max will act like there’s nothing weird about it, will thank you for taking care of him, and be on his way before lunchtime.

You’ll crawl back into bed and curl up on your side, unsure of if you love or hate the fact that the sheets still smell like him.

…..

Charles calls you from Qatar.

You answer. “Charles, I cannot pick him up. I’m in another country.”

“Yes, I’ve told him that about a billion times,” Charles says. “He is very stubborn, you know.”

Something dawns on you as you sit up against your headboard. For some reason, you’ve always assumed that other people are the ones choosing to call you. That even when it’s someone who doesn’t know you, they’re getting your information from the emergency contact info in his phone. But this… Charles seems to be suggesting that Max has asked him to call you.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

Charles laughs. “He’s fine. He is a world champion, again. You know.”

You do know. You called and congratulated him right after the race. You can still hear the shake in his voice, the yelling of his team behind him. It’d made your heart ache, made you sad you weren’t there with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “You both still have to drive tomorrow, you know.”

“I do know, which is why I’m hoping you can help me,” Charles says. “We’re in his hotel room. His phone is dead, I guess? He came to use mine, so I brought him back here. He’s lost his charger.”

“There’s a spare one in his backpack,” you tell Charles. “In the small pocket.”

You hear the zipper and Charles’ amused laugh. “Did you pack his bag for him?”

“I helped,” you admit. “Let me talk to him and I’ll see if I can talk him down?”

Charles makes a noise of agreement. There’s rustling, then a thud. More rustling. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

Then, Max. “Hi.”

“Hi, Max,” you answer. “I thought you were going to take it easy tonight.”

“I am a world champion,” he says, so matter of fact.

In the background, you hear Charles groan.

“Yes, a world champion who still has to do a race tomorrow,” you remind him.

“I know. Can’t believe I got it in the sprint. A sprint I didn’t even win,” he says, laughing lightly. “Let the rookie win the race tomorrow. I’m the champion.”

“I’m going to throttle him,” Charles says, loud enough or close enough for you to hear. “I think in turn one I will run him into the wall.”

“Tell Charles if he hurts one hair on your head I’ll fly to Qatar and throttle him myself,” you tell Max.

Max relays the message. Charles is quiet after that.

“Doesn’t matter how you won it, yeah?” You remind Max. “You still worked just as hard to get there.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You say with a laugh. “Charles has plugged your phone in. Make sure you turn it on and then go to sleep.”

You call his hotel and have electrolyte drinks and breakfast sent up the next morning, along with a bottle of painkillers. He texts you a photo of all of it along with a thank you message. When he wins the race, even hungover, you’re not the least bit surprised.

…..

When Max calls you at 11:00 pm, your first thought is huh. That’s early. You answer on the third ring, already looking for your keys. You wonder who it’ll be this time. A friend you know, or an unknown voice of someone he’s only met tonight.

“Schatje?” Max asks through the speaker.

You nearly drop the phone. “Max?”

“What, you don’t have my number saved?” He asks.

“No, of course I do, s’just- not usually you who ends up calling me, even from your phone.”

You think you hear him sniffle. Something twists in your chest. Before you can scramble to apologize, he’s speaking.

“Yeah. Um.” He sighs. “Huh.”

You can hear it in his voice, in the way the words seem to stick in his throat. Something’s wrong. You climb off the couch, headed for the door. “Tell me where you are, Max.”

He sniffs. “No, it’s uh- I don’t know why I called-“

“Max,” you repeat as you shut the front door behind you. “Where are you?”

He gives in and tells you he’s at some hotel bar. You recognize it and head down the stairs. You keep him on the line even as you start the car, as you pull out onto the road. He’s mumbling something about how he’ll be fine, about how you don’t have to come get him. Both of you know you’re already on the way.

You have to go in this time. For a moment you think about asking who else he’s with, and hanging up and calling them. But you don’t want to lose contact, so you park the car and head inside. You’re in a hoodie and sweatpants, a pair of slippers on your feet. Nobody bats an eye.

You find him in a back hallway, squeezed into a corner. Your heart crumples at the sight of him. You’re sure your face does too. He’s teary and curled in on himself. He looks so small. You love him, you worry for him, you hate this version of him. Not that you could ever really hate him. It’s just that he looks so vulnerable, so unlike himself.

As much as you want to get him out of there, as much as it would probably be the right move, you sit down next to him instead. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him into your side until his head is against yours. You don’t ask him what’s wrong. He’ll tell you eventually. It might take a while- sometimes a few days. You always give him time. For now, you just sit in the hallway with him. You meet him where he’s at.

He tells you later that he suddenly found himself alone in the bar. After days straight of only being alone when he went to sleep, person after person wanting to celebrate his championship, he’d been alone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d felt like he was suffocating until that moment.

“I was one of the people celebrating,” you remind him as he clings to you.

“But you aren’t suffocating me,” he says. “You’re like… clean air.”

He sleeps in your bed that night. You sleep next to him, not even bothering to argue about it. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breaths and the weight of his hand on your back.

When you wake up in the morning, he pretends he’s fine. You let him.

…..

Drunk Max is an overly honest Max. He’ll tell you anything and everything. So when you’re walking him home one night, his arm over your shoulder, gin on his breath, you’re expecting to learn some things. What you weren’t expecting, however, is for him to lean close, his lips against your ear, and tell you he loves you.

The odd thing is the way he says it. He leans close and tells you he loves you like he’s talking to someone else. He says “hey, you know-“ then he says your name- and then he says, “you know I love her?”

You shove at his side. “Yeah, I love you too, you dummy.”

He shakes his head, bumping his forehead against your temple. “No, I love her.”

Your heart stops at the way he says it. At the meaning he’s insinuating. Your feet fumble under you, but you manage to keep both of you upright.

“Max,” you say in a warning tone. “You’re drunk.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Drunk in love. Love drunk? Like that song she likes- got love drunk-“

He doesn’t realize he’s talking to you. He likely won’t remember this. You cut him off before he breaks into slightly incorrect Taylor Swift lyrics on the sidewalk. “That’s nice, Max. Why don’t you tell her?”

He shrugs. “Can’t.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you miss your chance to prod him about it when he trips over a bump in the sidewalk and nearly sends you both flying. After that, you keep your focus on getting him up to his apartment safely. You shove him into the bathroom in his apartment and tell him to brush his teeth. Then you stand in the hallway and press your hands over your face.

Can’t. Why not? Does he mean it? Did he say the wrong name? He won’t remember it tomorrow, you know that. Do you bring it up? Maybe you should just forget about it. He obviously doesn’t want you to know. And even if it is true, and he does have feelings for you, it would never work.

He stumbles out of the bathroom and presses a messy, toothpaste-y kiss to your forehead. That leaves your brain spinning even worse than it was before. You follow him to the bedroom and tuck him in. The cats glare at you as you disturb the blankets.

“You’ll stay, right?” He asks, tugging on your arm. He seems to know who you are now. “Please?”

You sigh and agree, climbing into bed next to him. He sighs happily and rolls towards you. He slings an arm around your waist, and you hold your breath when he presses his cheek to your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” he says, already half asleep.

“Goodnight,” you echo.

You lay awake and stare at the ceiling for at least an hour, trying not to listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Trying not to think about him admitting that he loves you. Trying not to think about him calling himself love drunk. Trying not to think about him at all, which is difficult with him right there.

You wonder if he really meant it. You want him to mean it, you realize. You tilt your head to look at him- you can only see the top of his head and the slow rise and fall of his chest. God, you want him to mean it. There’s no way he does, but you want it so badly your whole body aches with it.

Sassy walks up to the head of the bed and curls up right next to you. You run your fingers over her fur. Finally, then, you’re able to fall asleep.

…..

It’s not often that Max is the one to pick you up from a bar. It’s every once in a blue moon. You’re much more responsible, you plan ahead. You have a ride home, or you don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk, or you plan to stay with a friend who lives closer to wherever you’re going.

It’s not often, but it does happen. Which is how you find yourself in the bar bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, praying he picks up. There’s a good chance he won’t. He’s definitely not sitting around, waiting for you to call like you always are when he goes out. If he doesn’t pick up you’ll have to call someone else, but you won’t even know where to begin.

It’s only when you hear his voice that you realize you’re not sure he’s even in Monaco.

“Hello?” He says. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just- what country are you in?”

“What?” He asks. You can hear rustling in the background. “Is this some sort of code? Is someone-“

“No, Maxie, I’m fine,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Monaco,” he answers, still sounding unsure. “At home. Where are you?”

“Monaco. A bar bathroom,” you answer. “Any chance you’d come pick me up? My designated driver met a guy.”

“Not a very good designated driver,” he says with a scoff.

“Says the guy who never has one,” you retort.

Max laughs and doesn’t argue. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

Max gets there far too quickly to have been driving at a reasonable speed. He insists that you wait inside rather than meeting him out on the sidewalk, and says he’ll call you when he gets there. The phone rings, so you step outside. You’re thankful once again for his collection of cars and his tinted windows- nobody seems to have realized it’s him. He leans over and opens the door for you, and you climb inside. He already has the heated seat on for you, and he hands you a bottle of water after you sit down.

“Drink,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.

You roll your eyes but do as he says anyways. The city is a blur of lights outside your window, though you know Max isn’t speeding. He always drives carefully with you in the car, no matter how many times you beg him to go fast. You sink lower in the leather seat.

His eyes flicker over to you. “Did you have a good time?”

You shrug. “Yeah, till all my friends ditched me,” you say. “They found guys to hook up with.”

You see Max frown out of the corner of your eye. “And you didn’t? The men in this club must be blind.”

You pick at the hem of your dress. “Maybe I didn’t want to hook up with anyone. Maybe that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” He asks.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road. You turn your head to look at him. You’re at a stoplight, and it paints his face red. You study the slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw. You, you want to say. I’m looking for you. You think of him the last time you picked him up, how he said he loved you. Called himself love drunk. And then you think of when you asked him why he hadn’t told you. Can’t.

So instead, you shrug. Max turns and looks at you, then shrugs in response. You pout, knowing he’s mocking you. His eyes trace over your face, then over the rest of you. You wonder if he’s relying on how drunk you are to make you forget this- hoping you won’t realize or remember him checking you out. He reaches into the backseat and comes back with a large dark hoodie.

“Here,” he says. “You must be cold.”

The light turns green when the sweatshirt is half over your head- you only know because you feel the vehicle lurch into motion. You squeak, and Max laughs and lays a hand on your leg to steady you. His palm is warm against your bare skin.

When you pop your head back out and shove your arms through the sleeves, you expect him to let go. He doesn’t. His hand stays there, a steady presence, the whole ride to his place.

He hasn’t even asked if you want to stay at his apartment- he doesn’t need to, he already knows what your answer would be. Plus, you’re a bit too drunk to really be left on your own. He leads you up to his door, keeping his hand on your lower back to steady your wobbling steps. You’d tried to kick your heels off in the lobby, but Max had insisted you keep them on. You take them off as soon as you walk in his front door, though, sighing in relief. You stumble over to the couch as he sheds his shoes and jacket. By the time he walks into the living room, you’re curled up in the corner, already under a blanket, face pressed against one of his throw pillows. Max clicks his tongue.

“Come on. Up,” he says, tugging at your shoulder. “You should change your clothes and eat something.”

You groan and reach out to wrap your arm around his neck. “I’m comfy. Come cuddle. Comfy.”

He sighs. “We can cuddle. If you change your clothes and eat something.”

The offer leaves you a bit dumbfounded, because Max isn’t much of a cuddler. It’s pretty likely that he’s lying just to appease you, to get you to follow his instructions. So you continue to lay there, trying to pull him in. When you don’t budge, Max huffs, plants his hands on the couch behind you, and straightens up. He does it before you can loosen your grip, so you go with him almost accidentally. He pulls you off the couch and grabs your hips, helping you to stand up.

“There,” he says, as you sigh and lean heavily on him. “Step one. Clothes.”

He leads you to his room, where you eagerly take the opportunity to sit down on his bed. He turns and begins digging through his drawers. You flop back onto the bed. One of the cats paws at your ankles- you don’t bother looking to see which one. Max throws clothing onto your stomach.

“I’ll go make you food,” he says.

It takes you far too long to find the motivation to shed the hoodie and dress and trade them out for whatever clothes Max has left for you. Eventually, though, you do it. He’s given you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that are definitely yours, likely left behind whenever you stayed over last. You pull the hoodie back over your head and leave the dress on the floor. It’s only when you remember that Max is awful at cooking that you scramble towards the kitchen.

He’s putting perfectly cooked ramen into bowls. Frankly, it’s hard to mess up ramen, but you’re relieved either way. He smiles at the sight of you, and you think about telling him all over again. The last time you were drunk, you said you loved me. I love you too. We should talk about that. Can’t. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting down at the counter.

You never do get the cuddle he promised. You fall asleep there, forehead pressed to the granite, and Max carries you to the guest room and tucks you in. You swear you feel his lips against your forehead as you fall asleep. But that’s probably just a dream.

…..

By the time you’re in Vegas for the Grand Prix, you haven’t been drunk with Max in months. It’s been one or the other, not both. But since you’re there, Max drags you along to every event he gets invited to. You’re two drinks deep by the time Max makes it to the afterparty. He catches up quickly.

You sneak a sip of his gin and tonic and recoil at the taste. He gives you a blank stare in return.

“You’ve never liked it,” he says. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”

You shrug. “Exposure therapy. And my drink’s empty.”

He gives you a look that’s a mixture of what you think is exasperation and fondness. It’s his signature look when he’s dealing with you on nights out.

“We can fix that,” he says, as he reaches for your hand.

He leads you up to the bar, fingers knit with yours. He doesn’t let go like he normally would. It’s not uncommon for him to hold onto you in a crowd, especially when you’re drunk, but this is different. He leans over the bar and gives your order to the bartender, who nods and moves to make the drink. Max keeps his hand in yours. He finally lets go when you get your drinks, and you take a sip while you look up at him.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, blue eyes wide, and you’re trying desperately to read his mind. You want him to let you in so badly.

You end up at a table with him and his driver friends, squished in the booth between Max and Charles. You sip your drink and listen to them talk about race strategy and tires and Vegas in general. Max downs his drink, and someone brings him another. You do the same, and he gets them to bring you one too. And the cycle continues.

This means that by the time he turns to you and says, “we should leave now,” you’re pleasantly drunk, and you’d probably do anything he asked, really.

He slips out of the booth and pulls you along with him, ignoring the people who call his name. He has both of your jackets in his arm as he weaves through the crowds, holding onto your hand. It’s nice, to be here with him, to be a part of it instead of sitting and waiting for a phone call to come pick him up.

As the two of you stumble out onto the sidewalk, you tug on the back of his shirt. “Hey. Who are we going to call to come take care of us? We’re both drunk.”

Max turns and laughs, and then he’s quick to steady you when you stumble on the pavement. “We will take care of each other.”

You nod clumsily, leaning into the feeling of his hands on your hips. “Okay. Yeah. Nice.”

Max tugs you close, tucking you under his arm as he starts to walk down the street. “Lovely.”

“Simply lovely,” you say teasingly. “Where are we going?”

“The hotel,” he says. “I am sick of people.”

You deflate a bit at that. You’re not ready to say goodnight, to say goodbye, to be alone. You want to spend more time with him- it’s why you’re here in Vegas. Max seems to sense your change in mood and squeezes your shoulder, craning his head to look down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Do you want to stay out? We can find another club, I just thought maybe we could order room service, or pizza, and play a game or…”

He trails off as your eyes go wide, the hurt in your chest melting away. He cocks his head.

“I thought you were sick of me, too,” you say, and you bite your lower lip.

Max frowns deeply. The lights behind his head are blurry in your vision. You wonder if you’re just drunk, or if you’re tearing up. The way he swipes his thumb under your eye tells you it’s the latter.

“No,” he says, gently. “Never.”

Your lip wobbles. You shrug. Max seems to understand, and he just squeezes your shoulder again and keeps walking. You try to get your emotions in check. You have to, really, need to be normal about this. He’s just your friend. That’s all he wants to be.

“We could go do karaoke,” he suggests, pointing at a sign down the road.

He’s trying to distract you. It’s working.

You laugh and elbow him. “You’re an awful singer,” you tease.

“Am not!” He says, his tone full of mock offense. “Here, I’ll-“

You’re expecting him to break out into Viva Las Vegas, like he had at the end of the race over the radio. You’re bracing yourself for it, ready to grimace and cover your ears even though he isn’t really that bad of a singer. What he starts singing surprises you, makes you stumble a bit over your own feet.

“Welcome to New York!” He sings, and you stare at him, wide eyed. “They’ve been waiting for me- welcome-“

“Stop, stop,” you laugh, elbowing him as he attracts stares from people passing by. “We’re in Vegas, not New York! And you always get the lyrics wrong-“

“I am very good with lyrics,” he says, shaking his head.

“No, you’re not, you sang the other one wrong, too,” you tease. “You said got love drunk, it’s supposed to be got love struck. Remember, in Monaco?”

He stops in his tracks, his arm still around you, and stares. You stare right back. You frown and tilt your head at him, mirroring his earlier reaction.

“You remember that?” He asks, quietly.

“I was sober, Max,” you answer. “You remember that?”

He nods, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are wide, cheeks pink. “I wasn’t sure if it was real, or if I dreamed it. And you never said anything about what I told you, so…”

That’s when you remember the other part of that conversation, all those nights ago. I love her. Why don’t you tell her? Can’t. You swallow tightly, hands hanging at your sides.

“You didn’t seem to know you were talking to me,” you explain. “So I figured it wasn’t something you really wanted me to know.”

Max blinks, then nods. “I didn’t. Because you don’t feel the same.”

Your stomach twists violently, and your chest follows suit. “I never said that.”

His stare is so intense you feel like you’re seconds away from bursting into flame. “But if you did, you would’ve said something after that night.”

You shake your head. “I asked why you didn’t just tell me and you just said, can’t. You wouldn’t explain any further. I don’t know, Max, I just. I figured you had a reason. Like, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He asks, still staring at you.

“I’m just me, Max,” you say, pressing your hands over your face. “I’m just your friend. People get crushes all the time but it doesn’t mean you want to be with me, you’re a fucking world champion and I-“

He reaches up with both hands and grabs your wrists gently. He pulls your hands from your face. There’s a smile on his lips that leaves you teetering between relief and apprehension.

“But I didn’t say I had a crush on you,” he says, brows raised. “I said I love you.”

You sigh heavily and try to pull your hands back to your face. He doesn’t let you. You’re looking anywhere other than his eyes. Anywhere other than him, really. He lets go of your wrists and then cups your face in his hands before you can move.

“Hey,” he says. “I said can’t because I thought there was no way you’d feel the same.”

You stare at him, wide eyed, as his thumbs sweep soft circles over your cheeks. Suddenly, everything comes into focus, bright and blinding and stark. The Las Vegas strip is glowing all around you, but none of the lights are as bright as him.

“I do,” you murmur, and he lights up even brighter, somehow, when he smiles. “Fuck, Max-“

He kisses you right there, where anyone could see, in the middle of one of the busiest sidewalks you’ve ever been on. Nobody seems to notice or care, nobody seems to understand that your whole world is shifting. His lips are warm against yours, he tastes like gin, and he holds onto you like he’s trying to be so, so careful. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and thread fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He only pulls away when someone whistles at the two of you. He’s grinning wide, hands still cradling your face, and you have to fight not to pull his lips back to yours.

“Come on,” he says, slightly out of breath.

You don’t ask where you’re going. You just let him lead you away. You’re so in love with him, you think you’d probably follow him anywhere. It’s terrifying and relieving all at the same time.

…..

A week later, in Abu Dhabi, you ask him if he wants to go out after the race. There’s a billion parties he could choose from.

“No,” he says, wrinkling his nose up at the idea. “I’m good.”

You elbow him lightly, raising your brows. “All those parties you called me to pick you up from, and now I’m here and you don’t even want to go out? You don’t want to celebrate your season?”

He smirks as he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you along with him through the paddock. “I want to celebrate, but we don’t need to go out to do that. I have better ideas.”

His hand slips lower from your hip and squeezes at your ass. You yelp and look around frantically, hoping nobody noticed. He’s grinning with pride.

“Party animal Max Verstappen wants to stay in,” you tease. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, leans his head close to yours, and then admits, finally, “it was never about the parties. It was more about who was picking me up from them.”

You smile against his shoulder and try not to let it go to your head. He smiles against your forehead and tells you that he loves you for what must be the millionth time in the past week. You say it right back, drunk on the feeling of it.

a/n: thank you for readinnnnngggg!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully

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nervousimposter · 11 months

Text

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read.

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch.

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes.

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting.

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets.

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us.

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else.

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think.

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you.

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper.

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best!

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial.

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner.

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic

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bountycancelled · 8 months

Text

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

#opla #one piece x reader #one piece live action #x reader #reader insert #roronoa zoro #zoro live action #zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece headcanons

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talkdutchtome · 1 month

Text

"Let me take care of you" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . smut )

summary . . . after a disastrous race, you take care of max the best way you know how )

warning . . . smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play, use of petnames, sub!max, very soft dom!reader, traumatized maxie, not proofread )

word count . . . 2800 words )

a/n . . . this actually ended up a lot more emotional than i intended it to be but i hope everyone likes it anyway. i don't know if my smut writing is getting better or worse tbh. any and all feedback is always appricated <3 )

Max was a perfectionist; anyone could see that. He also had a desire to win like nobody else. He never let up. It didn’t matter to him if it was a title deciding race or a completely meaningless one, he needed to win. It had been instilled in him for as long as he could remember; second place is first loser after all. So naturally, when his brakes failed, and his car very literally caught fire in the Australian Grand Prix causing him to have to retire three laps into the race; you knew he was not going to take it well.

You were watching along in the garage, and the only thing you could think about as his smoking car pulled up to the pits was how hard on himself he was going to be. The fact that it was through no fault of his own was irrelevant. He had just handed a win to Ferrari, and that made his blood boil.

In typical Max fashion, you barely saw him after he retired too. He gave you a quick hug as he reached the garage but after that it was straight back to business. He made his way to the pit wall and immediately began discussing with Christian and GP what exactly happened and how do they fix it for Japan. He sent you a text that he was going to stay late at the track with the mechanics so that you should just head back to the hotel.

Truthfully, Max was avoiding you. You had only been dating Max for a couple of months, and so far you had only seen him dominate on track. And whilst you were concerned that that he would be beating himself up for disappointing himself or the team, he was busy focusing on how he had disappointed you. You had taken time out of your busy university schedule to travel to the other side of the world to see him race, and he had to retire three laps in. He was used to people living through him, taking his wins as theirs. He had never considered that all you cared about that he was safe and didn’t get hurt.

So, you went to the hotel and waited for him; or at least you tried to. Tiredness and jet lag eventually started to catch up to you, and you had just started to drift off to sleep when you heard the door open. Looking up greet Max, you could see immediately how heavy the weight he bore on his shoulders hung.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked him sleep in your voice still evident. Max just hung his head and walked into the bathroom. He half expected you to berate him. To question him on exactly what went wrong and what he’s going to do to fix it.

“Maxie?” You asked again, as he came in from the bathroom and made his way to his side of the bed, his eyes routed to the floor. This time he just grunted at you in response before getting into bed and turning away from you. He did not have the energy to be told everything he did wrong and why - he had already had that from his dad.

“Please talk to me Maxie, I’m worried.” You pleaded at him, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him. You wanted that more than anything, but you sensed that he maybe didn’t feel the same.

“What do you want Y/N?” He finally spoke, his voice cracking.

“Are you okay? I know that was tough result to take but it’s only once race. We both know you’ll be back better than ever for the next one.”

To your words, Max just grunted again. And this time you couldn’t help but reach over to hold him. Wrapping one of your arms around his waist and the other coming up to brush through his hair. You waited cautiously for him to pull away. A moment passed and he began to move, your heart sank; he clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near you right now. But instead of moving away, he just turned around, bringing himself closer to you, resting his head on your chest.

“I just hate to let the team down” he spoke, his voice no more than a whisper, like he wasn’t 100% convinced if he should be saying anything.

“But baby you didn’t let them down, you did nothing wrong. There was an issue with the car that isn’t your fault.” You gazed down at his face, your hands smoothing through his hair.

“I could have done something. Maybe I pushed the brakes too much. Maybe I went too hard. All I know is that I let the team down. I let my dad down. I let you down. You cam-“ He started to ramble, but you had heard enough.

“Whoa Max baby slow down. I can’t speak for the team or your dad, but you certainly did not let me down. All that matters to me is that you didn’t get hurt. I was so worried; you were literally driving a car that was on fire. You could have been hurt.”

As the words left your mouth, he looked up at you. Almost as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. When his eyes met yours and he realized you were being sincere, he hugged tighter into you.

“I love you Y/N” he spoke and before you could say anything, you felt him bring his mouth to your neck. Leaving hot open-mouthed kisses from your collarbone up to until he met your mouth. His lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. His hands found your hair and his teeth nipped at your lips. He quickly found himself getting lost in you and you weren’t too far behind. But when his hands wandered towards the bottom of your pajama top, you had to pull away.

“Wait, Maxie. Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve had a rough day, are you sure you want to do this. We could just go to sleep if you’d prefer.” You didn’t want him to feel like this was something he needed to do.

But when his lips once again found your neck, it was clear you had your answer. “Please” he mumbled against your skin “I just want to forget” between each word he left a kiss on your neck, before beginning to nibble against that one spot on your neck that he knew always sent you completely insane. He left deep purple marks all down your neck and you couldn’t help but let a moan slip through your lips.

You were about to completely cave into his touch before you had an idea, and before you could overthink whether it was a good idea, you swung your legs over him until you had him pinned underneath you, your legs either side of his. A smirk plastered across your face

Max looked completely taken aback at your action, but the second you leant down to kiss him, your lips just slightly brushing against his; he was starstruck and could feel himself growing harder by the second, which only deepened your smirk.

“Let me take care of you baby” you whispered in his ear before beginning to grind your core against him. The whimper that left Max’s lips took you both by surprise but, taking that as confirmation that he wanted you to take control; you attached your lips to his neck, trailing kisses down his chest until you reached the waistband of his underwear. It was clear from the way that his hard dick strained against the cloth that Max was enjoying this new side of you, and you could be lying if you said it didn’t give you a bit of a confidence boost.

You started to tease him, placing warm kisses over his underwear, but when you hear him try and fail to beg you to touch him, it becomes clear that maybe today isn’t the day to tease him. So, you hook your fingers around his waistband and release him from the tight confines of the cloth. Immediately, your mouth found his cock, your lips wrapping around his tip. Max’s moans filled the air as he came apart like putty in your hands. The way that your tongue swirled around him made him go crazy. He reached out his hands to grab your hair in a makeshift pony, but you dodged him. Max honestly thought he was going to cry when you took your mouth off him.

“No baby, I told you I was going to take care of you, you just sit back and let me do everything” you told him before quickly placing a kiss on his lips before reattaching your mouth to Max’s throbbing dick and bringing your hand to the part of it that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Max felt lightheaded; it’s not like you hadn’t given him a blowjob before, but never like this. He couldn’t ever remember being this turned on before. He had never even considered letting you take control, letting you take care of him so intently before; but now that he was experiencing it – he kicked himself for waiting so long.

The sounds coming from your boyfriend were music to your ears and only encouraged you to make him feel better and better. You could feel yourself getting wetter, completely desperate to feel him inside of you; but today was about Max, you’d happily wait longer for your own pleasure to take care of him. You began taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, earning more moans from Max. You had never heard him be so vocal before. Things got even better for him when you hallowed your cheeks and brought your hand up to his balls, massaging them in your hands as you worked his dick in your mouth. When his tip hit the very back of your throat and you gagged around him, he was so loud you were just slightly concerned that whoever was in the room next door would be up for a rude awakening.

“Oh, fuck baby, oh my god. I’m so close” Max just about managed to get out between moans, promoting you to once again let go of his dick. For a second Max looked at you with puppy dog eyes, silently begging you to take him back in your mouth. But as soon as you stood up and very slowly pulled your pajama shorts down, he realized that there were better things to come.

“Do you want me to ride you, Maxie?” you asked him breathlessly earning another groan from the man lying on the bed.

“Fuck, yes. Please please ride me I need to be inside of you more than anything” Max’s voice was weak; it was becoming all too much for him. And when you finally rid yourself of your pajama top, Max started to see stars. Your tits were his weakness, and you knew that all too well. All he wanted was to take them in his mouth, to suck and bite on your nipples. So, when you straddled him once again, that's exactly what he did. You thought about stopping him again, reminding him that tonight was about him and his pleasure; but when you caught sight of his eyes – usually so bright and sparkling. Now they were so dark, so filled with lust and desperation, you didn’t have the heart to deprive him of one of his favorite things to do.

You leant down to kiss him again, and the taste of his own precum on your tongue made him groan feverishly against your lips. Unable to wait anymore, you finally lowered yourself onto his dick. Now it was your turn to let out a string of moans and profanity. The way that he stretched you out was a feeling that you could never grow old of. After a beat to get used to having him inside of you, you began to bounce on top of him, pumping his dick in and out of your tight desperate pussy.

“Oh my god Maxie you feel so good, your huge dick sends me so crazy” You moan out, completely cock drunk. “You fuck me so good, god nobody makes me feel like you can” Your praise made Max moan louder than ever and then he simply couldn’t help himself anymore; he brought his hands up to your hips and began thrusting hard into you. You wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him to let you take care of him – but when he rammed his cock into g-spot you physically couldn’t ask him to stop doing something that felt so good.

“I love you so much Y/N baby” Max croaked out, bringing his mouth back to your tits and his hand down to your clit. Him touching you for the first time tonight meant it was now time for you to see stars. His expert hands rubbing against your clit brought you closer and closer to release and you could tell from the way that Max’s thrusts became deeper and harder that he wasn’t far behind you.

Wanting to finish what you had started; you placed your hands on his chest – signaling him to stop for a second. Max did so very reluctantly, but when you started to bounce on his dick again his eyes rolled back into his head. After each bounce you grinded yourself down on him, desperate to get him as deep as you possibly could. Your climax was getting closer and closer and soon you felt like you were ready to burst.

“I’m going to cum on your dick okay baby? You just make me feel so good I can’t help myself.” you told the man beneath you breathlessly, prompting Max to resume rubbing circles into your clit.

“Please do. Please cum all over my cock I need that so much” Max croaked out and with that you fell over the edge. A wave of pleasure washed over you and you screamed out for Max. It felt so good you thought you were going to pass out, completely taken over by the pleasure that Max’s hard dick had given you. For a few moments, you simply had to still yourself to let yourself recover.

Once you had ridden out the last of your orgasm, you were ready to go again; ready to make Max feel as good as you possibly could. You began grinding down onto him, squeezing yourself against him. After feeling you cumming all over him, Max knew he wouldn’t need long before he was right behind you.

“Fuck Y/N I’m really close, get off and I’ll finish in your mouth” Max just about got out between moans. When you didn’t get off and instead began bouncing faster and harder, Max really thought he might just die.

“Cum inside of me Maxie please, I need your cum fucked so deep inside me”

“Fuck really?”

“Yeah, i need it so bad.”

“Oh my god Y/N, you’ll be the fucking death of me”

The second those words left his mouth, he fell apart. A string of profanity left his lips, and you could feel his dick pulse inside of you as he painted the insides of you white with his cum. Max couldn’t believe how good it felt, sex with you was always great but that was on another level, he couldn’t remember ever feeling that good before.

“I love you so much Y/N”

He gently slipped himself out of you and you collapsed next to him on the bed. Exhausted wasn’t the word for how tired you felt after that. And apparently that was true for Max as well as in the time that it took you to waddle to the toilet to clean yourself up, he had managed to fall asleep. You couldn’t blame him of course; even before that it had been a very long tiering day for him. So, as quietly as you could, you got ready for bed and slipped yourself into bed next to him.

Looking at the very peaceful sleeping man next to you, you couldn’t help but snuggle down close to him. Placing a kiss on his temple before assuming the big spoon position that you know he loves so much from you. Your movement causing him to ever so slightly stir awake.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” he spoke so softly you almost missed it before falling right back into a very peaceful sleep. You couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have a man like him cuddled close to you.

“Sleep well Maxie, I love you more than anything.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x oc #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 smut

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propertyofwicked · 1 month

Text

YOU OWE ME - LN

warnings: none, just fluff (inspired by that one CL stream). this is so short pls forgive me

(also, anyone else seen the pics of lando in aus? FERAL for that man.)

“tier 1 sub - max can you tell lando to get off his computer and let me in the flat please im freezing” max reads out, bursting into laughter, “youre in trouble mate.”

max hears a travelling shout of swearing, getting quieter as lando’s headset is thrown to the desk and his entire body hurtling towards the front door.

“shit shit shit shit,” lando shouts, his fingers struggling with the keys left on the inside of the door. finally he manages to unlock the door and pull it open to see his girlfriend, rosy cheeked and a less than impressed expression.

“lando, how many times have i said to take the keys out of the door if you lock it and im not home - especially if youre not going to answer your phone.”

“im sorry baby, im sorry i know - i forgot,” he mumbles, his hands taking yours and bringing them to his face. he flinches slightly at the sheer coldness of your fingers, “do you want a drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee? it’ll warm you up”

“i’d love a cup of tea,” you smile sadly, shrugging your horribly thin jacket off. honestly, with the typical english winter, your jacket was almost useless in combatting the cold winds anyways. you move to follow lando into the kitchen, watching him fill the kettle and move to grab a mug from the cupboard.

“come here,” you say, opening your arms slightly for lando to move into. he moves to you instantly.

“you’re not angry at me?”

“no, i am. youre just warm” you say, looking up to smile at him. his hands fall to your waist, gripping your hips and hoisting you up to sit on the counter, but he doesn’t move back into your embrace. instead, his arms move to take his hoodie off himself, and pull it over your head.

“better?”

“slightly,” you're still smiling at him as you adjust the hoodie - lando can tell you're not angry at him, just slightly irritated.

“the heating’s on, my office is warm - you wanna go sit in there whilst i finish your tea, angel?” he asks, his hand stroking your cheek, “max is on call if you wanna talk to him for a bit? he’s streaming but you already know that,” he grins, his tongue sticking into the side of his cheek.

“i think max’s chat deserve to know how bad of a boyfriend you are,” you joke, hoisting yourself off the counter, ready to march on in and complain to the stream. lando’s hand catches your arm, spinning you back into his chest. his hand comes back to your cheek, and tilts your head back.

“im sorry baby, you know i am,” he frowns slightly - you reassure him that he is forgiven by pressing a small kiss to his lips. once again you go to move, but he pulls you back in, kissing you again - repeatedly pecking kisses all over your face and eventually your lips. his tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging for more. you pull your head back slightly, desperate to go and rat him out to max but his teeth nip down on your bottom lip again to prolong the connection.

“i don’t think so, lan,” you giggle, smiling up at him again. lando groans and swears you almost skip your way to his office, excited to tell max as he prepares for a night of grovelling.

“max. you’ll never believe this man,” you sigh, after popping lando’s headset on your own head.

“y/n! how are you?”

“freezing, max. and £10 poorer now i’ve had to sub to your twitch to be let into my own flat.”

“oh yeah, thanks for the sub,” max laughs out, looking at the chat, “it’s ok, chat reckon you should invoice lando for the inconvenience.”

“i think i might have to you know, although he’s making me a cup of tea right now and i might be able to pout my way into a takeaway tonight.”

“y/n that man is so whipped i don’t think you need to pout your way into him doing anything for you,” he responds, his emphasis on anything making you grin slightly.

minutes later, lando comes into the room, using his foot to kick the door open in front of him, his hands full with your mug and your lip balm. hang on, lip balm?

“here you go baby,” he says, placing the mug down on the coaster on his desk, “i put honey in it for your throat, and i brought your lip balm ‘cos your lips are dry,” he grins as he hands you the lip balm.

“my lips wouldn’t be dry if you’d answered the phone the first time i rang you,” you say, the eye roll evident in your voice, even to max who couldn’t see your face.

“hang on, y/n, how does he know your lips are dry?” max interrupts, his laugh travelling through the headset.

“because max, when two people love each other very muc-”

“ew stop it,” lando interjects, as he sets up a second set of headphones to join in the chat.

“he’s trying to regain my love with physical affection.”

“i can tell from your tone that it’s not working.”

“well, after that ‘ew’ i think i may have to revoke all physical affection.”

“you wouldn’t,” lando gasps, his hands dramatically clutching his chest.

“order dominoes and ill reconsider. you owe me.”

“yeah lando, and send her £10 to cover the cost of the twitch sub,” max shouts, siding with you, “chat also think you should, as a courtesy.”

you don’t say anything, but turn to look at him, puppy dog eyes and a pout to complete the look.

“fine! fine,” he laughs again, holding his hands up in surrender, “i was going to offer anyways.”

“sure you were,” you and max manage to say simultaneously.

an hour later, your food had arrived and your saying goodbye to max and his chat, as lando goes to the door. however, by the time you shuffle into the living room, lando has began setting up netflix, sat next to a mound of blankets he’d brought in from your bedroom.

“hey you, come ‘ere,” he says, leaning his back against the arm of the sofa and tapping the space between his legs. once you were settled, your back resting on his chest, he leans to grab the pizza box on the coffee table in front of you - it went down quickly.

“funny how hungry you get when you’re left shivering in the freezing cold for hours," you think out loud.

“it wasn’t hours and i didn’t do it on purpose y/n,” lando whines, scoffing slightly at the time embellishment, absentmindedly playing with your fingers as he did.

“i know baby, i’m sorry. you’re forgiven,” you start to feel bad for him. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before manoeuvring you both further down the sofa until he’s laying completely flat, and you roll over so that your head can lay on his chest. the two of you lay in silence for a few moments, the tv still playing quietly in the background, and you feel his chest moving with every breath.

lando's hands wander underneath his your hoodie, and begin to trace small shapes on your skin, making you shiver slightly. then, a thought hits you.

“someone needs to make a compilation of F1 drivers accidentally locking their girlfriends out because they’re streaming,” he laughs as you say it, your whole body shaking from the shuddering of his laughing, "it seems to happen more than you'd think."

“hey! i wasn’t streaming - max was, i was just there. AND! i paid you back, charles never paid his girlfriend back for the sub.”

“oh, aren’t you generous.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

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