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forteafy · 10 months

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Baby Steps | MV1

Summary: You've always been Mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. All it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all.

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: Mild Smut, Childbirth, Angst, Mentions of Jos Verstappen.

26th November; the night of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix should have been the happiest of your life.

Not many people in the world can hold their head up high and say they have won a Formula 1 world championship, let alone three. Ever since your toothy grin and shy comments when first stepping into the paddock, you had been making waves in the motorsport world. Years later, under the attentive eye of Toto Wolff and Mercedes, you had become effortlessly cool and undeniably talented; the core makings of a three-time world champion.

The night of your first win was…you can’t even say a distant memory; the last thing you could vividly remember was linking arms with the golden boy of Mercedes, laughing merrily as you were guided down to the foyer of the extravagant hotel, the entire team with their warm comments and loving attitude ready for their new-found champion. The next day consisted of crouching over the porcelain throne, your insides rejecting any form of substance, the smell of tequila on your skin making you belch more. It was a cruel cycle, but one that every world champion had learnt.

It also hadn’t ceased you from repeating the identical routine the next year; the feeling was so nice, you had to do it twice. Ironically, you had also worn the identical bra and panty set of the first year; not that anybody had seen it. Boys were off limits during the height of your career. This was your choice, of course. PR would have given their overpriced marketing tools to see you on the arm of a successful man, thinking of the faux love story they could spin.

No, in order to be successful, respected; you’d sworn off any romantic relationship. You were not a figure to be held next to a man for beauty. Moreover, you were almost certain that if Toto saw a man within three feet of you, he’d frighten them off, in true fear that anybody would come near his youngest prodigy.

The third year had been set; the routine was laid out in front of you, ready to make mistakes you’d groan and then forget about by the fourth. Instead, you found yourself crouched in the cramped cubicle of the nightclub, a hand over your mouth and nose, attempting to muffle the gulps from your lips. Your eyes had glossed over, intensely focused on the piece of plastic fisted in your palm. Two blue lines, interlapped to create a cross. A plus sign. A positive sign.

You were pregnant.

19th October; a month prior to what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You’d been the personification of a peacock; feathers flexing as you walked through the paddock, your tenth pole position of the year resting comfortably on your shoulders. Heavy pats on your back, a cheeky wink towards the camera of Sky Sports and cheers from the crowds had guided your return to your motorhome, thanking your PR assistant as you slid into the only four walls on the track where there was a form of privacy.

Except there wasn’t. A figure was relaxed into your sofa with a photograph in his hands, eyes trained on your body when you’d entered the room, unknowing of their presence. A grin appeared on his smug face upon seeing you practically skyrocket out of your skin, noting the other person in your sanctuary. He eventually stands up, removing his branded Red Bull cap to place on your sofa.

“You shouldn’t be here, Max.” You scoff, snatching the polaroid out of his fingers, returning the photo to its rightful place; atop of the plush chilli Carlos Sainz had bought you for your birthday. (He’d also bought you a bullet vibrator, trying to remind you of your stubbornness, urging you to relax a little.)

“Nice photograph.” He comments, his blue eyes flickering over to where it now stood, propped up in pride. You sat centre of the track in Abu Dhabi; two younger figures sat between your legs. They both rested a chubby hand on your World Driving Championship trophy, huge grins at the shining object. “Friends of yours?”

“Sisters.” You mumble in return, removing the snapback from your head, balancing it on top of your shelf. The cool air finds the roots of your hair instantly, a wave of relief rolling through your entire body when your hand comes up to soothe your scalp. “Congratulations on…was it P16?” You gloat, hoping your rival would catch the message that you didn’t want him to be there.

Max feels his lips drop and eyebrows meet at the cold reminder of his own qualification result. He knew the season was drawing to a close, quickly at that, and the constant reminder that he would be losing another championship to Mercedes golden girl was the last thing he needed. The smug grin on your lips remains, turning around to slide your arms out of your race suit, letting the top half rest on your hips, sleeves hanging loosely at your legs.

“That’s why I came to see you.” He responds, standing up straighter, arms folded as his eyes train on your own movement. “It makes my losses look miniscule compared to your own.” His own grin has returned now, satisfied with his own response to the situation.

You had been playing this game for months. The first year of your relationship on the grid had been friendly, the second had been hostile. The third had been downright dangerous. It began to get to a point where the grid, the press, everyone had picked up on the relationship between yourself and the Red Bull driver.

“Hey, I’ll do anything to help you forget this will be my third World Championship.” You snap back, turning around to meet his figure, your own arms mimicking, folding against your chest. This time, you take a step closer. “Maybe next year Christian Horner will remember his ‘Precious Little Maxie.’

Max scoffs at the nickname you had given him, eyes noting the step you had taken. He responds, taking his own step. “Trust me. There’s nothing little about me.” His eyes meet yours when he finishes his sentence, and for the first time, Max Verstappen has left you completely and utterly speechless. Mind goes into overdrive, years of hatred are forgotten has his hands fly out, grasping each side of your face, meshing his lips to your own.

Your first thought is to push the swine away, slap him across the face and scream for Toto Wolff to grab him by the collar. Clouded, spaced out; your mind begins to crack, your only thought is how good his lips feel against your own, how soft they feel against your cheek, how sinful they trace against your neck.

Max’s palms had originally rested on your cheek, they had begun their trail, slithering down your sides, grip tightening as they reached your hips, forcefully pulling you towards his body, grinding his crotch against your own, the desperation of his member clearly noticeable.

A gasp emitted from your lips, feeling his teeth begin to nip across the soft skin of your neck, desperately searching for that one spot that would make you crumble. Max’s hands make quick work, one wrapping around your waist in order to keep you secure, the other grasping you fireproofs, race suit and panties in a fluid motion, exposing the sweet centre he had been craving. Nimble fingers trail around your entrance, swiping a finger against your most sensitive bundle of nerves, rewarding him with the most sinful sound he had ever received.

“Max-“ You gasped, mind clouded by lust, how your desire of this man had built from your core the moment you had seen him in person, years ago. “Max, please-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He mumbled, his own hand pulling down his trousers and underwear, rubbing his shaft for preparation. “Do not ruin this fucking moment.”

In a swift motion, Max has you pinned against the wall of your driver room, the cool wall sending a shiver against your skin. You barely have time to register the coolness dancing across you before your mind is overwhelmed by the feeling of his length slipping into your wet folds, and there is truly nothing little about him in that moment, mind sent into overdrive when he brings his lips back to yours.

19th December, twenty-three days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You had finally thrown yourself entirely into a distraction; Christmas. You’d flew back to Brackley alongside your teammate, both of you returning to the Mercedes base before retiring for the holidays. There had been no string short of invites flooding into your inbox, asking if you wanted to join them in any festivities. Anything at this point was a wanted distraction from the impending coil growing in your stomach, both figuratively and literally.

And so, you attended a Christmas Market alongside George and Carmen, passing on the mulled wine the two had insisted on trying. You’d gone to see Jack’s Christmas performance alongside Toto and Suzie but declined going to the fish restaurant they had mentioned; (you’d read somewhere in your first week of sheer panic that you could no longer go near fish whilst pregnant.) You’d gone to Lando’s new apartment in London but had seen the scowl on his face when you’d complained about your ‘bad stomach,’ and couldn’t do any heavy lifting of decorations.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve; Lewis had come to your family’s home, presents for your younger siblings, parents and yourself, of course. He’d sat politely, sipped on your mother’s tea, laughed politely at the antics building up towards the big day itself.

Spending time with somebody for three quarters of the year will teach you a lot about them; Lewis knew you like he knew each twist and turn of every track he’d raced along during the years. He knew you laughed with your whole stomach to the point where you had to grab something for support; that before every single race you would have your ‘top secret handshake’ with your race engineer, (you insisted your race would always go more smoothly if you did so, the last time you didn’t had resulted in a DNF.)

What Lewis knew most, was you were a complete and utter sucker for anything with chocolate. He had seen you practically sob when your trainer had found protein brownies that would work in your diet. So why did you decline your mothers’ sweet desserts when offered around the lounge? Why did you seem to hold your breath when the scent of treats was wafted under your nose, almost as if you’d vomit if you came into contact with them?

Carefully, your teammate placed his mug down on the low table, wiggling out of the space between your younger sisters; both were entranced by him. In any other situation, he would have sat there for hours, listening to their oh-so-sweet stories. Instead, he whistled for Roscoe, watching as the dog stooped up from his position by the fire, tottering over towards his owner.

“I’m going to take Roscoe out for a wee.” He nods towards your figure, slouched on the opposite sofa. “You coming?” The way he phrases his question; you can tell it’s not a question, it’s a command. You nod, placing down your own mug, stretching as you pulled yourself away from the leather recliner.

Your sisters were now engrossed by one of the presents Lewis has insisted they had to open early. Your mother and father were running through their guest list for tomorrow; nobody seemed to notice as the two of you slipped on your outerwear, whistling for Roscoe as you stepped through the dining room and onto the porch of the family home you had gifted your parents almost 1 year ago now.

Lewis’ eyes meet yours the moment you had closed the ornate doors. You struggle to meet his gaze; you know he has begun to put the pieces of this metaphorical puzzle together. He barely waits for the sound of the door closing before he starts to speak, the mannerisms he reserves for his teammate in instant appeal.

“Alright. What’s happening then?” He asks almost instantly, motioning for you to walk alongside him, taking the scenic route of the large garden. “You’d never turn down sweet things. You do everything to make your mother smile, why would you turn down her cooking?”

“I’ve just gone off that kind of stuff.” You mumble, not really thinking about what you were saying. You’d later remember to be more careful with your responses. You were not expecting him to piece it together so quickly through his own train of thought.

“Oh, my sister was like that when she was pregnant with-“ He cuts himself off, ceasing his steps when he realises what has escaped his lips. His head snaps back to look at you, and his heart melts. You, his self-assured, sweet teammate, now with tears in your eyes, a visible shake running across your body. He’s not stupid, he’s far from it.

“You’re pregnant.” He almost whispers, seeing how the words are visibly affecting you. Lewis says nothing, instead pulling you straight into his chest, arms engulfing you as he feels your body loosen, silently shaking with held back tears of being reminded of your current situation. “But…how?” He murmurs, loud enough for you to hear. He knew of your dating rule. Even outside of the press, no man ever seemed to be enough to knock you down, let alone knock you up.

You can’t tell him, not now. You couldn’t tell him. You had to tell him.

“Max.” You whisper, barely able to have the name on your lips. Lewis’ brows furrow. He knows in his heart he is right, but he doesn’t want to be.

“Fewtrell?” He responds, referencing to Lando’s oldest friend. You had been to see them recently, after all.

“Verstappen.”

Lewis’ isn’t sure what to say in that moment. Instead, he simply keeps you in his arms, in this moment at least, he can keep you warm, safe. Away from questioning eyes and the stories which will surely follow you until the end of time, until the end of your career. Instead, he asks the one question which you had been blocking out for oh-so-long, that you had been putting off since you threw yourself into these festivities.

“What are you going to do?”

6th January, 41 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You knew what you were going to do.

You knew from the moment you had been called into your first ultrasound scan; by this point, only a few select people knew of the situation. Lewis. Your parents. The delivery driver at Dominoes Pizza whom had given you a strange look when handing over a pizza with no cheese, but three lots of spicy peppers.

Going to your first ultrasound alone had been terrifying; bringing somebody along would have drawn too much attention. You had played a mighty risk by going alone, hoping you wouldn’t be recognised. You didn’t want Mercedes to catch wind of the happenings, instead hoping nobody would openly tweet about your live location.

Your nurse doesn’t recognise you; if she does, she doesn’t show it. She’s polite and kind, makes sure that you haven’t used the bathroom in four hours, something to do with amniotic fluid. The cold jelly on your stomach sends an odd feeling through your body, as if cold cream was balancing on your tummy. There’s a sharp prod, a poke, and then you see the nurse smile.

“Ah, there they are!” She glows.

And there they are. Sat there, in your stomach. A small curve, to anybody else, a completely unidentifiable shape. But to you? The most precious shape that was completely and utterly undeniably yours. How you could have thought that you could go through life without knowing them is beyond you.

That was the moment you knew what you were going to do.

All you had to do now, was tell Toto. No big deal.

23rd February, 89 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

“Horner!”

Toto was known to be larger than life, and his voice only proved that theory as he stormed out of his Paddock Office, completely abandoning any information being presented about Pre-Testing in Bahrain. Instead, he’s seeing red, he’s seeing that Horner’s complete and utter dickhead of a driver has knocked up his winner. His current champion. (With no disrespect to Lewis, of course.)

Your teammate had been there, holding your hand when you had broken the news to Toto, your race engineer and your trainer. Your PR assistant was aware of the situation, currently attempting to make a game plan of how to handle the situation. She was adamant you needed to remain in the paddock; you still needed to be a part of the sporting world, even if you weren’t driving.

At first, Toto thought it was Lewis’ baby, ready to bang both of their heads together and reprimand them for not being careful. When it had slipped whose child it was, (Toto was well aware of your rule too, he was just as confused as Lewis had been when he’d first found out.) Toto didn’t care about anything. More importantly, he didn’t care that your pregnancy wasn’t public knowledge.

Toto had stormed into Red Bull’s garage, much to the widened eyes of Christian Horner. Despite being shorter, he instantly holds himself against the Austrian, arms folded, a smirk on his face at the entrance of the unwanted guests.

“How can I help you, Toto?” He smirks, ready for some remark. Instead, Toto leans to Christian’s ear, murmuring something unhearing to the rest of the garage. You can take a guess to what is said however, judging by how pale the Red Bull’s Team Principle had gone. In one swift move, he motions for Toto and yourself to follow him, calling out to his own team.

“Send Max to my office. Now.” His voice is unrevealing, but his skin is growing paler by the minute.

You had never been into a Red Bull garage, and yet now you sat in Horner’s own office, amazed by the fact their colour schemes and trophies could be carried around the world. Mercedes kept theirs at home, sometimes plain and simple was the way to go. You began to wonder if you should bring your trophies to your next races, maybe it would give the team a reminder of what can be achieved.

“Sit.” Horner motions to the couch in the office. You take a seat almost instantly, overwhelmed by the entire situation. Lewis places himself next to you, an arm around your back protectively. Toto refuses to take a command, instead remaining standing, arms folded, a glare of hatred towards Christian.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” The Red Bull team principal scoffs. “I didn’t tell Max to sleep with your little prodigy.” He may not be showing it, but Christian himself was downright livid with his driver. Max needed to focus; the team needed to focus on gaining back a world championship. Max was scarily focused, but when it came to the women in his life; his mother, his sister, his new little girlfriend Christian had seen in the paddock earlier that day, he would change, they became his focus.

“You need to keep that boy away from my team!” Toto retaliates. He could have gone deeper, he was all but ready to drag Max into the middle of the track and hold him there, letting Lewis drive into him at full force. Before any more threats could be thrown across the office, a door opens, the present grin on Max Verstappen’s face wiped instantly upon seeing Toto, Lewis and yourself.

“Max.” Christian starts, arms folded, the voice he used to reprimand his children now present. He can’t continue his phrasing however, before Toto scoffs, pointing an accusing finger towards the driver.

“You!” He roars, instantly forgetting the plead you had given him half an hour before, longing to keep this news as quiet as you could for as long as possible. “You couldn’t keep away; you have ruined my team! How dare you knock her up!” Toto is only stopped when you jump up from your seat, grabbing both of his arms in an attempt to stop his frantic ranting.

It takes Max a moment to process what has been said, he’s always struggled with quick responding when it’s not on a racetrack. It hits him all at once. Your pregnant. You’d slept together a month ago. Without protection, purely in the heat of the moment. Max Verstappen was going to be a father alongside his arch-rival.

“You’re pregnant?” Max can’t help his questioning, catching your eyes for the first time since entering the room. You can only offer him a nod, unable to form words in that current moment. “And…it’s mine? Are you sure?”

Your blood ran cold, you finally understood the rage that your Team Principle. You turn around, eyes darkened, shaking your head in pure anger. “Who else have I slept with, Max? You want to tell me that?” The audacity of this man. How dare he question you.

“You’re not keeping it, right?” Christian is the first to question. Max’s eyes gloss over, coughing lightly before overtaking the conversation from his own Team Principle. “I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.” His own skin mimics that of Christian; he turns as pale as the white lines of a hard tyre.

“You’re not-“ You cut yourself off, instead opting to keep silent. You had nothing else to say. Max had made his stance on the situation clear. “I don’t need you, Max. I can do this myself.” The entire room watches as you pull away from Lewis and Toto, never once looking at the father of your child.

10st March, 105 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

The Monaco Grand Prix was usually the highlight of your year; champagne podiums, speed boats and the comfort of sleeping in your own bed. However, this time you were not watching it from the screen of your car, nor the comfort of the paddock. You’d opted to remain at your apartment. For a start, the headlines which had been spiralling across the media were growing overwhelming. ‘Mercedes driver pulled out of racing until further notice.’ ‘Max Verstappen breaks up with new girlfriend after only weeks together.’ ‘Valtteri Bottas to pose for nude charity calendar.’

Maybe that last one wasn’t to do with your situation; you were all too aware of how your grid buddy could act in his down time.

Your second worry was the fact that your bump was beginning to grow adamant. It had only been around three months, yet the bump seemed almost ballooning. Every piece of clothing you tried on made you feel like it was more and more obvious. You didn’t want anybody seeing what was happening to your body. Besides, it wasn’t like the pregnancy was an entire secret anymore.

You hadn’t heard from Max since that day in the office. Toto had found you crying an hour later, coaxing you to stop for your own health and the sake of the baby. For the first part of the racing season, your unfilled seat had been passed to George Russell. You’d smiled at each interviewer, telling the world you had an injury which made driving next to impossible at the present time. For each Grand Prix, you’d stayed sat next to Toto, cheering on the silver arrows. Maybe you hadn’t seen Max because you barely set foot outside of the garage.

The news had slowly begun to spread from driver to driver, though each remained loyal and hadn’t told the press of your true reasoning for stepping away. Charles had been around in an instant, helping you to talk through what had been happening. He was your neighbour, after all, he liked to check in when he could. You’d had a visit from Daniel, telling you his best friend was a…well, how he put it, ‘a grade-a cunt,’ for how he had reacted.

There was only one person, however, whom you had wanted to speak to. Sebastian had been a close friend, almost a mentor, during your first batch of Formula 1 seasons. He was also a father himself, maybe he would be able to explain to you Max’s stance on the whole thing.

You knew he was visiting Monaco that weekend for the Grand Prix. When your phone buzzed from your living room, you’d assumed it was him asking for you to come and let you into the complex. What you were not expecting, was the text on your phone from none other than the father of your child.

14:05: Max Verstappen

I don’t know if you have me blocked, I’m hoping you do not. I want to apologise for my reaction. It was a lot. I want to be there, for you and our child.

14:09: You

I appreciate the message. Thank you. My next scan is on Tuesday, after Monaco.

14:11: Max Verstappen

I’d like to be there. Could you send me the details, please?

14th March, 109 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Max Verstappen was not a practical man.

Despite telling him you would meet him at the address you had sent him, he’d shown up to your apartment just before you were set to leave. Standing in the lobby of your apartment complex, a large bouquet of flowers resting in his arms. You could have sworn you’d never seen Max outside of jeans and a Red Bull polo shirt; it was refreshing to see him in crisp shirt and cargo trousers.

“You didn’t have to dress up.” You mumble, looking down to your own outfit; a soft summer dress seemed positively ordinary; hair loose around your shoulders. It was just a scan, after all. It wasn’t as if the two of you would be going on a date; you hated the man stood in front of you. However, a smile is soon nestled on your face when the man offers you the bundle of flowers, offering a warm grin alongside them.

“You look nice.” Max nods, motioning towards the exit of the complex. His car was parked directly outside, as in order to avoid the press whom would undoubtedly be looking for the drivers in Monaco. The flowers decorated your arms, carefully resting them on your lap before adjusting your seatbelt. “Do you need anything?” He looks back to the complex, concerned if you had forgotten something.

“I just need the bathroom.” You mention half-heartedly. Max’s eyes widen, ready to step out of the car and lead you back into the apartment. “Oh-“ You cut yourself off, having to explain the situation. “No, I need a full bladder for the scan, so they can see the baby.” The man nods in understanding, sitting himself in the driver’s seat, looking both ways before beginning to start the route towards clinic.

The car ride between the two of you was unusually peaceful; Max made light conversation, filling you in on the antics of the paddock from that weekend. You can’t hold back the laugh from your lips when he mentions Christian Horner slipping off his high seat when excitedly jumping to his feet. You missed the paddock; you missed the feeling of racing; you especially missed the banter between your friends. You’d have to return, sooner rather than later.

When the two of you pulled into the car park, Max was quick to step out of his seat, opening the car door for you. You offer him a quiet thanks before making your way into the building, side by side. The nurse you had previously seen gives you a smile, delighted to finally see the father of the baby alongside you.

Max had silently followed you into the room; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, quite the opposite. The man was taking in every piece of information that was being given, silent notes in his mind on each aspect. He’d keep the baby safe; he’d keep you safe, too. Ever now the gentlemen, he helps you to lie down on the seat, your bumped stomach revealed through lifting the skirt of your summer dress.

He can’t help but notice the soft underwear decorating your lower half. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked, after all. That’s how you had got here in the first place. His thoughts are soon side-tracked when seeing you wince from the coldness of the jelly and the cramp of the scanning machine. Max’s hand trails, feeling your own resting aside your body. He can’t help but hold onto it, trying to offer you some sort of comfort. Maybe it’s the sudden nerves, but your hand grabs back just as tightly, feeling his thumb rub carefully against your knuckles.

“You okay?” He mumbles, trying to keep a low profile from the nurse. You can only nod, comforted in the way your…rival…was now holding your hand so preciously.

“Now…” The nurse begins. “I wanted to check with you both, you mentioned wanting to find out the gender of your child.” Her question is directed towards you, Max’s eyes darting between the two women in the room. “Of course, if dad doesn’t want to know, he can leave-“

“Oh, no.” Max interrupts, mind racing at a thousand thoughts per minute. “I’d…I want to know too.” He agrees, nodding in synch with you.

“Well, congratulations. You’re having a beautiful baby girl.” The nurse confirms, turning around the screen to you both. The undefinable shape you had seen mere weeks ago had developed, becoming a more shaped being. You could see the baby forming, eyes widening in shock. Your eyes glanced over to Max, his grip tightening on your palm.

You didn’t miss the glossed tears in his eyes. He knew in that very moment that this baby, this moment was…everything to him.

2nd May, 158 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Overnight, Max Verstappen had truly wiggled his way into your inner circle. The two of you had barely said ten civilised words to one another since meeting all those years ago. Now? There was a string of texts almost every morning, asking how you were feeling, to let him know if you needed anything. You had truly begun to push the limits of his patience. The man had showed up your doorstep one morning with a bag of cinnamon pretzels after hearing your cries down the telephone line.

Right now, the two of you were basking in the bliss of your little bundle of joy; there were still a lot of heavy conversations to come, but the first wave of nerves had passed, you were now simply excited to meet the little being growing in your stomach.

The two of you had developed a successful co-parenting system to work your way through the pregnancy; Max had engrossed himself in endless copies of baby books. Daniel had found him one afternoon in his driving room, highlighting a textbook on what the main causes of a baby crying could be. He’d started to keep a calendar of every appointment that he’d attend alongside you, notes on the dates that you’re feeling a particular sickness or swelling. If you won’t bring it up with a doctor, he would.

Max tries to convince himself it’s to keep his baby safe; of course, you need to remain healthy too, but he doesn’t care about you, not in that sense.

It isn’t until he receives a phone call from you one afternoon, pleading for him to come and collect you from a friend’s house; your car had broken down and your Uber application wouldn’t seem to find you a driver that wasn’t half an hour away. Max had shown up at the doorstep ten minutes later, knocking on the door to signal your arrival. When there was no answer, he took his own incitive to investigate the back garden, hearing the light sound of music, chattering adults and giggling children.

The garden is in full swing; you hadn’t mentioned it was a party; an extravagant one at that. He’s taken aback by the decorations, a giant bounce house and the most enormous birthday cake he had ever seen.

His heart almost stops when he sees you.

You, hair framing your face beautifully, a pale pink dress hugging you in the most delicious way. Your attention is focused to the toddler on your hip, your godson. How on earth could you think you were not ready for this? You pulled faces at the young being his giggles screaming through the air. Max had always thought you were pretty, but now he could only see you as a goddess.

He’s convinced himself, after all. He doesn’t care for you. He worships you.

9th June, 196 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

“I think we should move in together.”

Max’s attention is drawn up from his phone. Christian and himself had been texting backwards and forwards for the past few days; the driver was trying to rework his schedule so he could at least be with you for a week after the birth. It was getting closer; the world now knew of your pregnancy, the media torn between harsh critics and positive glows.

What they didn’t know was the father of the child was your sworn enemy.

Maybe, enemy was a word you didn’t wish to use anymore. A friend didn’t seem right, either. A mix of late-night conversations, spooning ice cream to one another whilst binging a new Netflix series and picking out a bundle of pink pyjamas had drawn the two of you into an undefinable relationship.

“You know…” You continue. “I want…her to have both her parents about. I don’t want her to grow up in a broken household.” It was true; you’d seen how it could affect people, especially the man who was sat by your side. He understood, completely and utterly. After what he had been through, he wouldn’t wish that on anybody, least of all his own flesh and blood. His own baby.

“I missed my mother…a lot when I was younger.” He referenced his parents’ separation, how he had barely seen his mother and sister whilst growing up. “I wouldn’t want that for her.” Max rests a hand on your stomach, a soft smile on his face when he looks at you. Even with no makeup, a hoodie which was way too big for you, you were still positively glowing. “Why don’t we have a look tomorrow? Find somewhere around here with enough space for us all.”

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine, but you’re painting the nursery.” You mumble in response. A small laugh emits from both of your lips. However, yours is soon replaced with a sharp wince, a rumble in your stomach. Max, whom still had a hand resting on the bump immediately stops laughing, both of your eye’s meeting in shock.

“Was that-” He cuts himself off when he feels the movement again. It’s a kick. The baby is kicking.

“She’s awake!” You laugh, placing your hand carefully across Max’s. You gently guide it across your stomach, tracing the sharp movement in your stomach. “We must have woken her up. Sorry sweet pea.” You direct the last part of your sentence to the baby in your stomach.

Max gently removes his hand from your stomach, his head tiling closer to your bump. The baby can hear him. She’s in there, nestled and warm, awaiting her welcome into the world.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He mumbles, voice thick from holding back heavy tears. “It’s your Papa.”

He doesn’t miss the small laugh from you, entirely entertained by this whole situation.

“I know I can’t see you yet, but you’re the most beautiful girl I could ever ask for. Just like your mother.” He finishes, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. Softly, he lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your temple, heads resting gently against one another as the next episode of your series began to play.

29th June, 216 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Spa-Francorchamps was the last race on the calendar before the summer break. It was also the last time you would be able to be in the paddock without a baby strapped to your side.

It had been magical, when walking into the Mercedes garage. Cheers had erupted upon seeing their golden girl return to the paddock. Lewis had barely been able to contain himself, pulling you into the tightest hug which could be imagined. Toto had almost started crying, kissing the top of your head and resting a hand on your stomach, declaring the baby as his unborn prodigy.

There had been no end of drivers coming to meet you, too. Charles and Carlos had declared how much they had missed having you around, presenting you with a baby blanket and beanie. Your heart had melted when they explained their mothers had taught them how to knit, both wanting to make a present for you, stitched with love. You’d almost started crying, hormones were in full swing in the third trimester, kissing both on the cheek and thanking them endlessly.

Yuki had walked up to you that afternoon too, presenting a small Tupperware box. He had noticed you’d completely rejected fish, and most of all sushi, so instead had made you a batch which was pregnancy safe. The two of you had tried a piece there and then, declaring it as quite possibly the best thing your tastebuds had found since pregnancy had altered your tastebuds.

Daniel had come to find you, telling you to meet him in his garage, that he had a surprise for you both. Both, meaning you’d probably have to find Max, too.

His garage was only a short walk from where you’d been set up in the Mercedes camp. You’d began to make your way over there, hoping you’d bump into the father of your child on the way. You’d last seen Max that morning, having driven you to the paddock himself. He’d become…fiercely caring since the evening of feeling the baby kick. He’d slept in your bed that night, you are resting against his chest, a form of comfort in the third trimester.

What you hadn’t expected to see, as you turned the corner, was a beautiful girl, hands resting on Max’s waist, her eyes sparkling, lips moving. You couldn’t see Max’s face, his cap hiding any expression, but your heart knew that he’d be smirking, basking in the attention.

Loving the attention of a beautiful girl, one that wasn’t pregnant with his child.

You couldn’t…understand why you had suddenly cared so much about who he was interacting with. When you’d first started this whole…adventure, he’d still been seen in clubs, leaving with different women on his arm every weekend. You’d hit the second trimester; his party and escapades had stopped, his sole attention of women being on you.

Maybe that was it. You’d grown to like the attention of Max. Whether it was as the father of your child or…something else.

Your hormones were truly beginning to overtake you, feeling tears trickling out of your water line. You had to look away at that moment, you couldn’t keep looking at the events unfolding in front of you. Your mind traces back to that morning in Christian Horner’s office, how Max had turned pale, not wanting to be burdened with the birth of his child.

‘I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.’

Maybe he wasn’t. But you were ready to be a mother.

8th August, 255 days since what should have been the-

You couldn’t handle this.

The pain was beginning to seethe through your stomach. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was all wrong, it was happening too quickly.

Since the incident at the paddock, you’d been radio silent towards Max. He wasn’t too sure of how it had come to be. All he had known was you’d taken yourself home from Spa, telling him that you’d needed to fly home to be with your parents before the birth.

One day without a phone call was okay, he suspected it would be due to the time zones. Two was…a little odd. After three, he was frantically packing a suitcase, trying to get hold of anybody who would possibly know your parents’ address. He’d resulted to finding your teammates phone number. After he was met with a string of questions, asking how on earth he had gotten hold of his phone number. When Max had explained you had gone off the grid, Lewis had simply scoffed.

Of course, Lewis had known what had happened. He’d seen you return to grab your bag, eyes glassy as you offered the team a quick goodbye, promising to bring the baby to meet them all as soon as possible.

The driver had been the one to guide you back through the paddock. Despite not racing together for almost six months, he still had your mannerisms sketched into his mind. Eventually, you’d confided in your closest friend, letting the tears fall freely as he guided you back to your Uber, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a silent promise that he would be there if you needed anything, if there were any more thoughts or issues.

He had no issue telling Max his thoughts over the telephone. Despite Max’s answers, there was no excuse. ‘You were hormonal. How did he think you felt when seeing Max with another woman, even if it was innocent, she didn’t seem to be in that stance.’

That was the case. It was an ex-girlfriend, she’d been in the paddock that afternoon, seeking out the world champion in an advancement to get them back together. Max had no intention of going there, not when he was during finding something, some gesture to show you of his advancing feelings over the past few months. That was why he had asked Daniel to get you to his garage. He would be able to surprise you, tell you how he was really feeling, how he loved you, and not just for being the mother of his child.

After copious amounts of pleading, Lewis had eventually sent over the address, giving Max a dire warning as to if he upset you again.

The flight to your home had been fast. He couldn’t thank his assistant enough, getting a hire car set for the moment he stepped out of the airport. However, turning up at your home to find your father, arms folded, and eyebrows raised at Max’s sudden appearance. Your father barely said two words, just told Max you had gone into labour.

Max’s blood had run cold upon that realisation. He wasn’t there; he wasn’t there to hold your hand when the pain started, to hold your hair up and get some coolness to your overheating skin. He wasn’t there. Not for his little girl, and not for her mother. Being a Formula One driver in that evening was the most helpful thing in his opinion, arriving at the hospital in record time.

Car thrown carelessly into a parking spot, he’d sprinted into the reception, a nurse resting a hand on his arm when seeing the pure shock registered on his face. He couldn’t get any words out properly, simply repeating your name, that he was the father of your child. He wanted to see you, he wanted to see his baby.

The nurse nodded, motioning for Max to follow him down a corridor. He didn’t like the coldness of the building. You probably felt so alone. Every time he had come with you to a clinic appointment, he’d notice the change in your demeanour, how you felt uncomfortable. You should have opted for a home birth; you would have been calmer. Safer.

Max eventually reached your hospital room, heart breaking at the sounds from the other side of the door. You were in pain. That much was obvious as he opened the door. Your mother wasn’t present. He knew your stubbornness, knowing that you would have wanted to do this without her. Maybe, you’d want to do this without him, too.

His train of thought was interrupted, hearing a voice he had missed oh-so-much for the past three days.

“Max.” You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. The gas wasn’t working, the epidural hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to feel ever piece of this.

The man sprang into action; in an instant, his jacket was removed, revealing his soft t-shirt and trackpants. A seat was pulled up to the head of your bed, Max sitting himself down, one hand running across the top of your head, the other arm resting by your hands, letting you grip into him as deeply as you needed to.

“Shh. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He mumbles. Soft words of Dutch come from his lips; you’re too far gone to understand his words in English, let alone his native language.

“You- why did you come?” You sob, feeling another contraction wash over your stomach. You can’t help but sob out, overwhelmed by the physical pain of the baby, the emotional pain of Max after seeing him in the paddock with that girl.

“I couldn’t leave the love of my life to meet our baby girl alone, could I?” He responds, leaning upwards to press a soft kiss to your cheek. He can taste the salt from your tears. He swore there and then, you’d never cry again. Not if he was around. You’d stay with him in the paddock, you and his baby girl. He’d make you laugh at every available opportunity. He’d shower you both in gifts; he’d give his girls everything they’d desire. If one day you decided to return to racing, he’d retire there and then to let you peruse his dream.

“Okay, okay. We need to push.” The midwife insists, seeing the pain flush over your cheeks. Max is there, clasping your hands, running a palm across your cheek, promising that oh-so-soon, your baby girl would be here, she would be in your arms, you would be complete.

There’s a sharp scream from you, and then the tiniest cries from the end of the bed.

She was here. Bloody, high pitch screams fill the room as the baby is placed onto your chest.

A wave of relief flushes over you, lying back into the cushions, sobbing in hysteria; your baby girl had been welcomed into the world. Max this time, can’t hold back his own tears, aiding the midwife in cutting the chord, eyes in awe as he watched the midwife gently rub a cloth against her soft skin.

“She’s here.” You whisper, the midwife aiding you in wrapping your daughter in a pink blanket, her wails cooling down, eyes blinking up to her mother. The blue eyes, identical to those of her father.

Her father in question had sat back in his chair, eyes transfixed on the bundle in your arms. What he isn’t expecting is for you to motion your own arms towards him, letting the man cradle his daughter. It’s so…natural. Your heart fills with adoration; how you could ever believe you hated this man was beyond you.

Eventually, the baby is placed into the cradle, deep in slumber. Max hasn’t moved from your side, one arm around your back, both of you transfixed onto the peacefully sleeping child.

“She’s here.” Max repeats for the hundredth time, eyes still focused on the sweet girl. His head turns to you, there’s no better time to say it. “I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner. For not telling you how much I care about you.” He murmurs, hand finding yours, clasping them together.

“Yeah?” You tease, running your free hand through his soft hair, feeling his head press into your touch. His touch subsides, leaning in ever so gently, pressing his lips to your own. It’s soft, it’s unexpected, but it feels so, so right. It’s only interrupted with the soft cries from your baby once again.

“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?” Max laughs, his moment being disrupted by the baby. You can only laugh as he stands up, scooping up the baby into his gentle grasp.

9th August, 1:06am. This was the happiest day of your life.

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yanderestarangel · 6 months

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Can you do a smoke fic? Imagine some Shirai Ryu ninjas gossiping about Smoke and Reader's relationships and how Smoke is not even half of a man to please someone like reader. I imagine him fuckin reader all night and making reader say his name so the others can hear how good he fucks reader

"𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄!"| 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀

A/N: DOM TOMAS? DOM TOMAS! LET'S FUCKING GOO!

TW: ftm reader, afab anatomy, v!sex, oral sex ( f!receive ), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!tomas, size kink, exhibitionism, degradation, pet names, possessive sex, porn plot only, smut, nsfw, praise, rough sex.

You had been married to Tomas Vrbada - a.k.a Smoke - for seven months, he was a good husband, However, when you enter the Shiray ryu clan, you realize how poorly some ninjas talk about you and Tomas's sex life, it was true he was more submissive, but he always gave you pleasure, but hearing the insults made Vrbada angry, taking a decide, he was going to make you scream that day during sex and shut everyone up.

Tomas arrived home early that day, with heavy and long steps, opening the door with everything, anger, desire and longing, extremely dominant.

"-Dear... I'm tired of hearing them talk about us, about me. I'm going to show them what we're capable of." He didn't waste a moment, quickly tearing off your clothes, his hands roaming over your smooth skin, letting out a low growl of satisfaction, his eyes flashed with desire and hunger, his own body responding to the sight of your exposed breasts and vulnerable state - his warm breath caressing your skin as he kneels down in front of you - Without any hesitation, he devours your exposed pussy, his tongue flicking and swirling over your sensitive clit with fierce determination. He sucks and licks, his movements driven by a mix of anger, dominance, and undeniable desire. The lust that floods through your body is intense, his actions leaving you gasping and moaning, your fingers instinctively tangling in his short gray hair, pulling him closer as your legs tremble.

"-Is this what they've been mocking?" Tomas murmurs against your sensitive flesh - He continues to assault your core with his tongue, his lips, his skilled mouth working to you - each stroke, each lick, is filled with raw passion and a determination to silence the doubters, to prove that he is more than capable of bringing you pleasure -

"-Let's show them what we're truly capable of..." He says, his voice husky and lust-filled, his fingers sliding inside you alongside his talented tongue. Tomas continues his relentless assault on your pussy, the sounds of your moans and gasps only fueling his desire. He responds to your desperate moans by sucking and licking even harder, eagerly devouring every drop of your sweet nectar. He can't help but feel a surge of pride and triumph as you moan and beg for more, your body arching into his ministrations. The taste of your arousal on his tongue, the feel of your walls clenching around his fingers, it's all driving him to insanity, his dick twitched in his pants, as he made you moan even more and louder, the feeling of your fingers in his hair made him moan against your cunt, the husky and heavy vibrations tickled against your skin. "-You're so beautiful like this... But... I need more my pretty boy..." He watches you with dark, hungry eyes as he removes his fingers from your pussy, a strand of your arousal glistening on his fingers. A wild grin spreads across his face as he slams you against the wall, your exposed pussy throbbing with anticipation.

"-That's it, my pretty slut. Show me how much you want this. Show me how much you need to be fucked by me, and only me." Tomas growls between clenched teeth, his voice tense against your ear, his chest against your back, while he holds your hips with all his strength - even, to the point of hurting you - he thrusts without any warning, while holding you in place the feeling of his thick shaft entering you makes you gasp and moan, the raw satisfaction that comes from being claimed by him. His grip on you tightens as he starts to move, his powerful thrusts penetrating deep inside you, reaching your cervix.

"-Scream for me, my good boy... let them hear how you belong to me, and only me." He commands, his tone filled with both tenderness and a commanding air. Smoke thrusts become harder, faster, his primal instincts taking over as he seeks to claim you completely.

"-Moan loud, moan my fucking name loud you little whore, let the whole clan know who owns that pussy." He doesn't hold back, slapping your ass firmly, the sound echoing through the air. The sting of his hand against your skin sends a surge of mixed pleasure and pain straight to your core, you had to moan his name as loud as you could, the syllables ripped through your throat, like a mantra — "Tomas, Tomas, Tomas !" — you reverberated in the open air, the danger of being caught by a member of the clan made Vrbada's dick even harder, you could feel how rough he was being with you, easily lifting you off the ground and pushing your ass even higher in the air. towards him, parting the soft flesh and giving a wide view of your cunt swallowing his cock.

"-That's right (Y/N) scream my fucking name, that's it, say it louder!" With each forceful thrust, he grinds against your most sensitive spots, his hips meeting yours with a primal urgency. His grunts and groans fill the air, an intense soundtrack. "-Let them hear how good I make you feel. Moan my name. Beg for more."

"-Fuck my angel... you make me feel like a fucking god, Holy shit... I'm going to fill you." Tomas murmurs, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he holds onto you tightly. "-I'm... I'm cumming!" he grunts louder, the sensation of his pulsating cock, the tightening of your walls around him, it's all too much - with one final thrust, your body arches, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you orgasm around his shaft, his cock swells even more within you, filling you with his hot seed.

The sensation is overwhelming, yet somehow perfect. You feel connected to him in ways words could never describe. As he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his grip on your hips remains firm, his hips grinding against yours with dwindling force, as he looks into your eyes, he can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. He knows that he has proven himself, not just to you, but to everyone who doubted him this moment, none of that matters. As Tomas pulls out of you, his cock glistening with your wetness and their combined fluids, he looks at your wet, messy pussy.

"-I promise, my love... I will always make sure you cum harder than any other man could." He leans down, pressing his lips gently against yours. His tongue darts out, tasting the remnants of their passion still lingering on your lips, he made sure all of Shiray Ryu heard how good he was for you and maybe, he'd do it more often.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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ateez-himari · 26 days

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COACHELLA REVIVES DATING SUSPICIONS

An intense display of intimacy between the main rapper and lead vocalist leaves the audience speechless, pondering over their relationship.

April 13, 2024 (10:45AM)

Throughout the group's career it was not rare to find social media posts outraged at an alleged dating scandal between the maknae and another member, though most were simply an attempt to obtain her removal. Stage interactions were always heavy factors in the uprise of these rumors - especially with San whom she seems to have the most intimate choreography with - yet none have been as blatant as this one.

While it was not noticed until footage of the event was reviewed, one clip alone was enough to send social platforms into a confused chaos with tags such as #MinAriCoachella trending on X. Most have familiarized themselves with the intimate moment shared by the two artists during the dance break of WONDERLAND (Symphony No.9), yet none could have expected what transpired on that stage.

This time instead of using his grasp of the vocalist's neck to push her away as was done throughout other performances, Mingi shocked attendees when making the decision to pull their bodies closer. It would have seemed inconspicuous had the large screen not caught their lips clearly brushing against each other, his smirk indicating that this outcome was very much intended.

With the camera zooming out to take a wider shot Himari's reaction was unfortunately not captured, but a much more suspicious action drew the attention of online viewers watching the fancam. Mere moments prior to pulling away, what appeared to be the rapper's tongue rapidly swiped across his bandmate's lower lip while the hand devoid of a mic lead one of her own onto his chest.

Never throughout ATEEZ concerts has there been an interaction this shockingly bold and it seemed as though fans were not the only ones taken aback, as the maknae became visibly flustered when questions arose concerning this specific instance during the post-set live. The two appeared rather close throughout the broadcast as well, with Mingi's arm draped across the vocalist's shoulders until it eventually moved down to her waist when she attempted to move closer to the eldest in order to show him something on screen.

'Certain members take a while to come down from the adrenaline high on stage, so they're still in this mindset until we get to the hotel usually.'

This statement from Himari could very well serve as the explanation of this sudden show of possessiveness from the rapper, though it is unlikely that netizens will hear the true reason behind it.

With this mysterious dynamic set aside, ATEEZ made their mark on history as the first male K-Pop group to perform on a Coachella stage and proved that their hard work needed to be acknowledged to the same extent as their undeniable talents. These nine members began their career filming a music video in the Sahara desert to then take the stage with that very name during one of the largest music festivals.

The smiles on their faces throughout the fifty minutes set were enough to convince attendees that all of them were born to be on stage, especially with the playful tone their performance adopted up until the end. Atiny have taken to social media in order to express their pride towards ATEEZ's success whilst the latter slowly solidify their position as one of the top male groups and continue to make waves through the industry.

Stay tuned for upcoming performances; April 19th at Coachella, May 24-25th at the Yeosu Expo Music Festival, June 29-30th at Show! Music Core and August 18th at Summer Sonic.

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#ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez 9th member #ateez extra member #ateez female member #kpop oc #himarinews♡

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hisui-dreamer · 10 months

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ode to the prideful lion

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: despite what everyone said about him, he was absolutely perfect and you loved every bit of him

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for Leona, bot proofread

Word count: 645

Notes: weee here's to my first fav in twst <3 happy birthday Leona! thank you for coming home in the jp server mwah mwah

Masterlist

Your lover is prideful, but behind that facade lies a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he carries the weight of his past on his shoulders, burdened by countless expectations since the moment of his birth. How could anyone treat him as inferior just because he was born second? It's unfair, and it hurts to think about the pain he endured.

Your lover is lazy, and you often have to motivate him to start another day of living. And yet, under the right circumstances, his laziness transforms into fierce determination. You rarely witness that competitive side, that clever and methodical nature, and it leaves you in awe of him every time.

Your lover is talented in magic, and that alone is an alluring quality. But it's not just his abilities that captivate me; it's the way he embraces his gift with nonchalant charm, even as he skips classes and takes naps. It's as if he knows his worth and doesn't feel the need to prove it to anyone. And yet, he yearns for recognition and seeks to prove himself as a leader.

Your lover is a complex puzzle, and you find yourself falling for every intricate piece of his being. From his aloof exterior to his caring and passionate core, you're enamored by the contradictions that make him who he is. Your lover is someone who deserves love and acceptance, and you want nothing more than to be the one to give him that.

Your lover has an undeniable love for sleeping and cuddling, and there's something incredibly endearing about the way he cherishes those quiet moments together as he pulls you in to sleep together. There's a sense of safety and tranquility in those cuddles, a feeling of being cherished and protected in his presence. And when you both drift off to sleep, his rhythmic breathing and the gentle rise and fall of his chest create a soothing symphony that lulls you into a peaceful slumber. In those moments, you feel truly connected, and the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the simple yet profound joy of being together.

Your lover loves leaving love bites on you. Initially, you were taken aback by this intimate display of claiming, but over time, you began to understand that it's his way of showing affection and marking you as his own. Despite the possessiveness, you find yourself unable to be cross with him. There's something strangely endearing about his desire to assert his love in such a primal and passionate manner. Those love bites become a tangible reminder of his devotion and the depth of his emotions.

Your lover's warm embrace is like stepping into a cocoon of safety and affection. Despite his sometimes aloof exterior, when he wraps his arms around you, it feels as though all walls come down, and he lets you into his vulnerable core. The strength of his embrace conveys his desire to protect and cherish you. It's in those moments that you feel truly seen and understood, as if he's unraveling all the layers to know the real you. There's a captivating contrast between his carefree nature and the gentleness he exudes in those arms around you. It's as if he's trying to convey all the emotions he finds difficult to express through his actions, and you find solace and comfort in the depths of his warmth.

You love him with all his flaws and strengths. In his presence, you feel a sense of belonging, like two souls entwined in this chaotic world. You can't help but want to go back in time to be there for him, to support him in his darkest hours, and you know the best thing you can do now is remain by his side and support him through the present.

Your lover, is none other than Leona Kingscholar.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar

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sinsiriuslyemo · 5 months

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Could you do a crash into me part 2? Something along the lines of Barba says you're cute or that and she is surprise. He tries to apologize, and they admit their feelings to one another, and have office sex?

He was perfect. That was just the end of the story. Rafael was absolutely, flawlessly perfect. Well, you were aware that some may have been able to find some flaws in him, but you couldn’t. You never had. Even the things about him you typically found obnoxious, you thought were perfect because they were just so perfectly him. From the moment you stepped foot onto the sixth floor — the floor where ADAs went to become rockstars — and saw him talking to the woman just outside his office, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

Dark, perfectly coiffed hair, intense eyes though their color escaped you, and an air of sophistication you normally found pretentious, but somehow he carried it with so much grace that you wondered if he was perhaps a prince that had renounced his throne to come work in the office of the Manhattan District Attorney. His confidence was palpable, and when he moved it was like he was doing so to the sounds of a solo violin playing a majestic composition.

He looked up as you passed by and gave you a polite nod, which you promptly returned, adding a smile just for the hell of it.

Then, he spoke. And while his voice was quite appealing, his words were not so much.

“'That must be the new ‘rockstar.’”

You had already made it past his office, towards your shoe-box that had been labeled an office when the words were spoken. And in truth, had it not been for his tone, you might’ve taken the words as a compliment. But alas, you heard snark beneath the syllables and your jaw had clenched though you weren’t about to make your remarkable hearing known just yet. In fact, as you walked into the small, square room with only a desk and a bookshelf near the sole, tiny window, you vowed to make his life hell.

Why? Because you had clearly had a chip on your shoulder. Sure, you were the youngest ADA to ever make the sixth floor and yes, your experience in the courtroom amounted to the equivalent of a pile of shaved parmesan cheese — thin but bold — but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t hold your own with the big boys. And Rafael Barba had certainly revealed himself as a ‘big boy’ that day.

Especially when, at lunch, he came sauntering into his office with sushi — again passing you in the hall and again bestowing upon you a polite nod — and another lawyer from across the hall asked, “I heard you nailed that bastard Tomlin in cross. Is there any case you can’t handle?”

“None,” had been his answer.

If he was the best, then you would take care to measure up to his stature.

That first day of observing Rafael Barba had been eight months ago, and you had more than proven your worth. You’d always been talented — the fact that your work reflected such was of no shock to you. What did come as a surprise, however, was that the man you’d initially found annoying with his expensive and colorful three-piece-suits and his undeniable wit would become the star of all your fantasies.

It began with finally noting the color of his eyes — a warm and enticing green that you could’ve stared into for hours and in which you could often see a glimpse of sadness beneath the bravado. Then his hands became a fascination of yours, large with thick, prominent veins running over in just the right places and long fingers that you often imagine buried in the depths of your core. That stupid smirk that was often more condescending than playful and yet still managed to be charming regardless of its context.

How did he do that? How was he able to make you feel foolish and horny at the very same time?

A vow to make his life hell had quickly become an adolescent form of flirting where you would do or say things that you knew got under his skin. It had quickly become a pass time for you, and you had found amusement in ruffling his feathers, especially when he would express his aggravation by shooting a glare in your direction. The fire in his eyes would set your skin ablaze, making a shiver trickle down your form and a tickle bloom in your stomach.

When you had been tasked to sit second chair on a big case he was trying, you had taken the opportunity to double down on your efforts to be taken seriously. He seemed to be somewhat receptive to your assistance, but had mainly relegated you to the role of secretary, which had irked you beyond belief. Convinced he hated you, you had all but given up your flirting tactics. It wasn’t until yesterday afternoon, while you were reorganizing your bookshelf, that your hope had been reignited.

There you were, in your joke of an office, moving books here and there with Dave Matthews Band playing from your IPod when you glimpsed his reflection in the window beside the bookshelf. You half-expected him to announce his presence, but when all he did was stare, you decided to show off a bit. At most you expected him to make a quick getaway once you started taking the advice of Dave Matthews to ‘hike up your skirt a little more’ but instead he stayed. He stared. And from what you could tell from his reflection in the window, he had frozen. The only thing was that you had no idea if it was because he was interested or that he had simply been caught off-guard.

“Y/N?” you heard from your doorway, and turned to see none other than the man himself, a resigned expression on his face. “Great job this morning. I never would’ve thought to ask about his fantasy football team.” He inhaled slowly and deeply, his chest inflating noticeably. “It won us the case,” he said in his exhale.

You arched a brow, unable to help yourself. “Did that hurt?”

He squinted at you. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment.”

“I know, I’m only asking if it hurt,” you replied, the corner of your lips curling into an amused smirk.

He snorted, tilting his head down to look at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at you. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, thank you for the compliment. Maybe now you’ll acknowledge that I can do this job just as well as any of you.”

His brows knitted for a moment as he answered, “I was never under the impression that you couldn’t.”

“Weren’t you?”

He shook his head. “No. I just find you a little insufferable at times.”

“Oh-Em-Gee,” you replied with a feigned offense.

“See — that right there, that’s obnoxious, and I think you know how I hate it, which is why you do it.”

“I’m sure I have no clue what you even mean, Barba,” you answered in a gentle laugh.

He narrowed his eyes, but you clocked the way he was trying to suppress a smile, and your cheeks grew hot.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I find it amusing that you get all bent out of shape over an acronym.”

“Several,” he replied. “Not just one, and not just every once in a while either.”

“Fine.”

“You’ll stop?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure.” There were plenty of other ways you had identified to get under his skin, you could afford to lose one.

“And the humming? You’ll stop humming obscure songs in the halls that later get stuck in my head?”

“Oh no,” you replied, shaking your head. “Absolutely-the-hell-not. I like my taste in music too much not to share it with the entire office.”

He snorted, shaking his head as his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You bobbed your shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” he replied. His face froze immediately after, his eyes the only changing feature as they widened in surprise.

He wasn’t the only one taken aback by his slip. Your heart, apparently finding hope in the remark, began to beat wildly against your chest. A thrill flourished in the pit of your stomach and your mouth went dry as you waited for him to speak again.

Cute. He thought you were cute!

He thought you were cute? Suddenly his starring the day before came into sharp focus. He wasn’t merely frozen in place from getting a glimpse of what you were like outside the context of legal work, he was interested. In you!

“You think I’m cute?” you asked, needing to hear it again from him, and in much clearer language.

“I…” He seemed at a loss, and you began to taper your expectations yet again. “Yes. I think you’re attractive.”

You licked your dry lips, teeth catching your bottom lip.

“Does that, um…” He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Does that bother you?”

The smile that bloomed on your face seemed to put him at ease, even more so when you replied, “No.” You ran a hand through your hair nervously. “Actually, I think you’re attractive too.”

He blinked, taking a few steps forward into your office. “Wait, really?”

Whether it was a surge of energy from hearing that your attraction was reciprocated or merely a result of how sexy he looked standing in the doorway with that hopeful look in his eyes, you couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was had you taking long strides to throw the door closed behind him as your lips pressed firmly against his.

Your moan buzzed against his lips when his hands pulled you flush against him by the waist, and you both stumbled for a few steps until he had you pressed against the wall. His tongue flicked against your lips, seeking entrance while one hand cupped your jaw as his head tilted. As his lips ventured to the pulse point in your neck, your hands made work of loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait! Wait!” he exclaimed between kisses. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Not here, we’re at work.”

You knitted your brows. “Seriously? I’ve thought about doing it specifically here at least seven times.”

“Seven?”

“Lucky number, I’d never think about it more than seven times,” you answered, kissing him again.

“That’s a little weird,” he whispered in a chuckle, his lips taking yours again as the hand on your waist fell to your hip.

“It’s not that weird.”

“What if someone walks in?” he asked, though, like you, he hadn’t moved in the slightest, his body still propping yours against the wall.

“That’s kinda kinky,” you replied, taking his lips again.

He groaned. “We should lock the door.”

“Yeah, we should,” you whispered, fingers resuming their task of unbuttoning his shirt while his lips found your neck again. “Or not.”

“Not?”

You stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “I mean, we can just keep most of the clothes on, that way if someone walks in, we can say we’re…” You couldn’t think of a valid excuse that would explain why you were both pressed up against the wall.

Looking up at you, he furrowed his brows as a smirk grew on his lips. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll fly.”

“Probably not,” you mumbled. “Okay, you lock the door, I’ll bend over the desk.”

He stared at you for a moment, as though he was wondering if he’d heard you correctly. When you nodded is when he moved, going straight to the door to lock it as you made good and bent over your desk, lifting your skirt in the process.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he turned around and walked up beind you. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this.”

“Hopefully no more than seven,” you said, wiggling your ass enticingly.

“No, no more than seven,” he muttered as he got to his knees behind you and bit down on one ass cheek while his hand swiftly came down on the other.

You yelped and moved your hands to grip the other side of the desk, biting down on your lip as he moved your soaked panties to one side. Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you shuddered when his tongue slipped through your folds, teasing your entrance.

Arching your hips to give him better access, you let a moan fall from your lips as your muscles clamped, trying to trap his hot tongue with no success. Cool air touched your pussy as he moved back to pull your panties down your legs, and you wiggled your legs anxiously.

He didn’t leave you waiting long, licking you with the flat of his tongue in broad strokes from your clit to your asshole. Pulling your labia between his lips, one at a time, he took his time licking and sucking on every inch of your vulva before dipping his tongue between your folds, flicking against your opening. He moaned against you and lowered his tongue to play with your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaimed, gasping, pushing yourself back against his face. “Oh my god, that’s so good!”

Rafael moaned, sucking your clit deeply, both hands grasping your ass, holding you open for him. “You might wanna keep it down, a locked door doesn’t mean a soundproof room.”

You whined and pressed your lips together, bringing one of your hands down to cover your mouth. A gasp caught in your throat as one of his fingers sank into you, his head tilting to make room. Bucking back against him, you rode his finger, needing more but afraid that your please would alert your office mates elsewhere in the building. As another finger joined the first, your fist came down hard on the desk, shoving your files and phone right off the smooth surface.

“Please,” you managed to squeak, a moan stopped short at the back of your tongue when his fingers curled and began to massage your g spot. The pressure deep inside you quickly tightened until you were holding your breath, anticipating the release that inched closer… closer…

He stood suddenly, and you nearly sobbed when one of his large hands pressed down on your back. The clinking sound his belt made as he loosened it made your muscles flutter urgently, the promise of him filling you sending a fresh wave of energy through your body all the way down to your core. You suddenly became incredibly aware of how empty you were and widened your stance slightly, eager to feel him inside you. Your muscles twitched desperately, seeking out something to grip when he pressed himself against your entrance. Reflexively, your hips arched again, the small of your back dipping to present yourself fully to him. A moan caught in the back of your throat as he slid past your opening, and in one long, leisure stroke was buried to the hilt inside you.

Your muscles hugged him, as if to never let him go and it pulled a satisfied groan from him, keeping him still. He stayed that way until you began to squirm again, needing him to move.

Rafael pulled out just as slowly as he’d entered until just the tip of him remained before he surged forward again, his hips pressing mercilessly against your ass.

“Oh God, you feel amazing,” he groaned, repeating the acting again, his hands moving to gently hold your hips in place. After a few slow yet firm thrusts, he started moving faster, harder until his hips created a beat that cracked over your skin. The sting of it on your ass kept you present, feeling every ridge and vein along his thick, long cock.

“Oh fuck, that’s so good,” you sighed, resting your head against the desk and letting him use you for his pleasure. The tickles between your thighs were so delicious and intoxicating that it was as if he had always been this way with you. As if he knew every inch and quirk and need of your body, and had fine-tuned himself to be perfectly in sync with you.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this,” he mumbled, one hand stroking over your spine while the other kept hold on your hip, pulling you back into him.

“I-Is it as g-good as you imagined?” you asked between shuddered breaths.

“So much better,” he groaned.

Your muscles clenched around him, and you began to move back against him, looking over your shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“Fuck!” He pulled out.

“No!” God dammit, you were so close!

“Hang on, I just wanna look at you,” he replied, turning you around and pushing you back down onto the desk with a kiss as he slid back into you.

Whimpering against his mouth, you wrapped your legs tightly around him, your heels digging into his ass and using the leverage to drive him harder into you. From this angle, his cock dragged over your gs pot again and again, building the tickles in your pussy until it was all that existed for you. You looked up at him, hoping the look in your eyes was enough to convey your need to come.

He didn’t disappoint; with a smirk, he snapped his hips and reached between you with one hand circling your clit while the other hand clamped over your opened mouth. Your screams were muffled as the orgasm rushed over you like a tidal wave finally reaching land, drowning you in pleasure and all things Rafael. A moment later, he throbbed inside you, heat spurting against your insides and his cock flexing with each burst of his release. Body trembling, you undulated beneath him, savoring each after shock as it hit as a sting fell in your eyes, your skin on fire.

When you began to come back to Earth, you realized that your hair was stuck to your forehead, sweat had fallen into the corners of our eyes, and your body was ultra sensitive, even responding to his fingertips as they dragged over your ribs. His weight felt so good on top of you, keeping you present with him as he slowly lifted his upper body to look down at you.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he groaned, kissing you deeply and moving your hair off your forhead with one hand.

“Better than amazing,” you answered, kissing him again, your fingers sliding through his soft, damp hair. “Question,” you said as he carefully pulled out of you, and helped you sit up. “Is this a one time, get-it-out-of-our-system kinda thing or is this a let’s-give-this-a-go kinda thing?”

He blushed a bit, fixing his pants while you pulled your panties on, muscles clenched to keep any of his essence from dripping onto the floor. “I mean, I’d like it if it was a let’s-give-this-a-go kinda thing. Are you alright with that or…?”

You grinned, biting your bottom lip as he started to drip out of you and onto the seat of your panties. “I am definitely okay with that.”

#rafael barba #law and order svu #raul esparza #raúl esparza #ada rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #ask

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midnightcoffes · 4 months

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so uh i got no time to doodle today so I'll be doing a analysis for day 9:

Camicazi, Fishlegs, The Slavemark and Hiccup on How to Steal a Dragon's Sword

The first time I read this book, I have to admit, I was disappointed when Camicazi didn't manifest for Hiccup when his Slavemark was revealed. But now, re-reading the books after months, I think I got it. I got the reason why she didnt manifest (and metaphorically turned her back on him) and why Fishlegs did manifest, and acted so viscerally in loyalty to Hiccup.

It's because the world turned their back on Fishlegs and Hiccup a lot of times before.

It turned their back on them when Snotlout called them useless, said they would be better dead and no one cared to disagree. It turned their back on Fishlegs when he was throw into the sea for being a runt. It turned their back on Hiccup when his dad didn't listened to him. It turned their back on them all the times they were bullied, humiliated, excluded, and no one, except each other, cared.

They were to each other the only safe place, the only way to be accepted and loved for their true selves. And if Fishlegs turned his back on Hiccup at this moment, he would be turning his back to his own self, because Hiccup was his only family and the only one who didn't gave up on him all those times before.

Camicazi, for other side, never knew this all, and never experienced this all.

She IS their best friend. Is undeniable. But she didn't went through the years and years of bullying and mistreatment, and a lot of times she's shown to be surprised that Hiccup went through it, because she always sees a different side of him: always the Hiccup that creates miraculous plans, that has no fear to risk his life for protecting people (and dragons), the one who kept beating Alvin again and again. Camicazi is familiar to the Hero Hiccup, not to the 'Useless' one.

And we might as well go a bit further into Camicazi's own life: for what we see of her, she is boastful, proud, and confident most of the time. She doesn't has the expected physique of a Viking, but even being short and skinny, she is talented in everything she was expected to: she's an amazing swordfighter, a master in stealing, an expert at insulting people, has an amazing dragon and well, many times she acts fearless. Is clear that Bertha is proud of her. Is clear that she knows that she is good. Is clear that she didn't went through what the boys did.

I'm not saying Camicazi had the perfect childhood. She might have had bad times – bet that being captured so many times does not do good for the mind of a kid (because is that what they all are). All I'm saying is that their childhood wasn’t the same, and this causes Camicazi to be shocked to her core when she sees the Slavemark on Hiccup.

She must have felt, at a certain point, betrayed. Because "Why didn't he told her? Weren't they best friends?" and she saw a image so distorted of Hiccup that she believed he was the Perfect Hero. A perfect hero shouldn't have the Slavemark. And that's what breaks the idolized thought she had from him.

So I don't blame her for not manifesting for Hiccup. Not anymore.

Thats it for the day! I had more to say but the migraines truly got my ass and now I cant even look at the letters right. This is more a rant than a analysis but well. its life lol

(also just to be said english is not my first language and im not fluent on it so. just know that this would be ten times better in my mother language. im sorry for any mistakes!)

#httyd books #httyd #how to train your dragon #book hiccup #book fishlegs #camicazi #how to steal a dragon's sword #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #twelvedaysofdoomsday2023 #how to train your dragon books #twelve days of doomsday

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grantmentis · 9 days

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2024 IIHF Women’s World Championships Season Wrap Up

All of our women’s worlds tournaments have finished, so here is a short summary of each tournament, who got promoted/relegated, and top performers.

As a quick disclaimer: how they do best players of each tournament tends to be a little different for each one, some have MVPs and some don’t, idk why

Championship / Top Division

Final standings

Canada (Gold)

USA (silver)

Finland (Bronze)

Czechia

Switzerland

Germany

Sweden

Japan

China (relegated)

Denmark (relegated)

Tournament MVP: Laila Edwards (USA)

Top goaltender: Sandra Abstreiter (Germany)

Top defender: Renata Fast (Canada)

All star team: Sanni Ahola (Finland), Renata fast (Canada), Caroline Harvey (USA), Laila Edwards (USA), Natalie Mlynkova (Czechia), Alex carpenter (USA)

Tournament summary: this is gonna be my longest short summary as this is the tournament I have the most coverage of.

We finally have USA and Canada at the best versions of themselves again, solid coaching for both, a mix of youth and vets, for the most part all healthy, making for a great gold medal game.

Germany is the biggest positive surprise this tournament. They went from ninth in 2022 to eighth in 2021 to sixth this year, that’s pretty big gains, abstreiter had a phenomenal tournament with the best save percentage despite one of the heaviest workloads, but I was also really impressed by the team defense. Both Welcke twins, Jobst-Smith, Franziska Feldmeier were huge this tournament.

China may have gotten relegated but I think this tournament was still a success for them, considering the significant roster changes they experienced, they were still able to hang with most of the group B teams. Jiahui Zhan was phenomenal in goal and kept them in games, which is such a big part of these tournaments. They don’t have the star power on offense yet, but what they do have is a program that is committed to funding the national team and providing a lot of centralization time to create a cohesive team, and that environment will start creating elite scorers in time.

Finland bounced back after being hammered with injuries last year, Ahola firmly has won the crease, and Nelli Laitinen solidified her capabilities as a top pair defender. Czechia saw a breakout tournament from Natalie Mlynkova that carried them to a fourth place finish even when the rest of their offense was struggling. Switzerland has been able to fill a Phoebe Stänz shaped hole in their lineup with Ivana Wey. Denmark struggled hard without Jakobsen, and shows clear signs of a federation neglecting their program and losing their players - they barely responded to Jakobsen’s retirement, and were the only national team not to secure some kind of way to watch for those in Denmark. Japan disappointed this tournament, and will need to find an elite goaltender if they hope to be in the top division again. Sweden didn’t have a lot of things go their way this tournament, but youth talent in goal scoring was a bright spot for them. They are an undeniably deep team if they can get it all clicking at the same time.

Division IA

Norway - promoted

Hungary - promoted

France

Austria

Netherlands

South Korea - relegated

Best goaltender: Ena Nystrøm (Norway)

Best defender: Annika Fazokas (Austria)

Best forward: Estelle Duvin (France)

Summary; For the first time since 1997, Norway has been promoted to the top division! Despite not having the offense other teams had, they only conceded six goals all tournament and only one was at even strength. They relied heavily on their young core like Emma Bergesen and Millie Rose Sirium to lead the way. Hungary was able to earn promotion despite missing Fanni Garát-Gasparics, and only scoring nine goals all tournament. They played near flawless defense, only allowing 91 shots against in 5 games (averaging around 18 against per game) and being perfect on the PK. France had arguably the best first line in this tournament, Estelle duvin - Chloe aurard - Clara rozier can hang with anyone, but was shut down by Hungary in the final game to lose the chance at promotion.

Austria had a WILD tournament, no one scored more than them, but they also had uncharacteristically struggling goaltending performance from the Luggin sisters who have been pretty consistently solid in international tournaments. Not much to worry about long term there, it happens in short samples, but tough break when offense was so good. More of the same for the Netherlands, who are looking for their next wave of young players to help propel this team, but Kayleigh Hammers continues to prove herself as a special talent. Lastly, South Korea was in the IA tournament for the first time, has a lot of work to do before they can be a mainstay here but this is the first step and is valuable experience

Division IB

Final rankings

Slovakia

Latvia

Italy

Great Britain

Slovenia

Poland

MVP: Karina Silajane (Latvia)

Top forward: Janka Hlinka (Slovakia)

Top defender: Laura Lobis (Italy)

Top goaltender: Pia Dukaric (Slovenia)

Short summary: Slovakia returns to division IA after slipping for a few years and being relegated last year. They were a clear step above most of the other competition in this tournament, especially defensively, but we are seeing the gap shrink. Pia Dukaric for Slovenia may be the most underrated goaltender in the world; she faced 308 shots this tournament in 5 games (about 61 per game) and only conceded 15 goals in that span. Slovenia would 100% be relegated without her. Latvia is playing in division IB for the first time since 2019 and had a funny tournament - they weren’t at the top of anything in team stats, but they were good enough at everything to be a very complete team and Karina Silajane was phenomenal in big moments.

Italy also impressed, though some frustration is probably there that they’ve finished in the same spot for the third year straight, they’re undoubtedly a better team than they were three years ago. Italy is the only team to beat Slovakia in this tournament, and were one of the best teams in terms of limiting shots against. Laura Lobis and Natalie Mattivi are a very legit first pair, and Martina Fedel is an elite goaltender. They don’t have a top goal scorer right now, but that may be coming in Matilde Fantin, who was not able to play this tournament due to injury. Poland fell hard this tournament going from second place last year to being relegated. Part of this is an shaky performance in net from Martyna Sass, who was great at the club level and usually solid in goal, but she played way more games than she normally does this year and may have been overtaxed at the end. She was not bad but Poland heavily relies on goaltenders to steal games. The other, bigger part is the offense completely disappearing - they only scored six goals, which will not get it done in any tournament. Finally, Great Britain was a confusing team this tournament, but despite offensive woes avoided relegation by keeping games close and pulling out wins versus Italy and Slovenia. They only scored six goals in the tournament and two were against the best goaltender in the tournament, which is how hockey is sometimes.

Division IIA

Final rankings

Kazakhstan - promoted

Spain

Mexico

Taiwan

Iceland

Belgium - relegated

Top goalkeeper: Arina Chshyokolova (Kazakhstan)

Top defender: Bridget O’Hare (Spain)

Top forward: Alexandra Shegay (Kazakhstan)

Summary: Kazakhstan was relegated last year and not looking to stay in this division for long. A solid u25 core has continued to show promise for them. Spain has really created a nice core for themselves with Vega Munoz, Bridget O’Hare, Alba Gonzalo, Claudia Castellanos, and Sofia Scilipoti - they dominated most teams but came up just short against Kazakhstan in the final game. That said, I’d wager a promotion is in their near future. Mexico continues to finish in third in this tournament as they have for a few years, with a lot of players born 2000 or later making up the roster, but we have to give 39 year old Claudia Tellez her flowers - it’s been a decade since she started playing at Worlds and still is putting up over a points game while also coaching the u18 team. Just a total legend. Mexican Goaltender Monica Renteria also had the best save percentage of the tournament at age 36, having also been on the initial women’s worlds team Mexico with Claudia a decade ago.

Taiwan could not score, but they did have an elite goalie tandem of Ai Chung and Tzu-Ting Hsu (Beauts fans, you may remember her from the 2019-2020 season, also goes by Tiffany Hsu) that kept them in games. Yun-Chu Huang was responsible for 5 of the teams 8 goals. Iceland continues to stagnate, but 19 year old defender Katrín Björnsdóttir was extremely impressive this tournament. Belgium was outmatched in their first chance at this division and was relegated, but has a few promising young players that may incident they’ll be back soon

Division IIB

Final standings

North Korea - Promoted

Australia

Hong Kong

New Zealand

Turkey

South Africa - relegated

Top goalkeeper: Erva Kanat (Turkey)

Top defender; Matilda Pethrick (Australia)

Top forward: Jong Su-hyon (North Korea)

Summary: we haven’t seen North Korea at the international stage since before the pandemic and didn’t really know what to expect in their return and then they came back and just dominated this tournament. North Korea and Australia were a clear step above the rest of the competitors, and North Korea ultimately got the promotion in a shootout goal by Hyang Jang. Keira Mok of Hong Kong was another goaltender with a stellar performance, and Nikki Sharp was great for Australia in terms of forwards. South Africa’s relegation comes as no surprise, as they’d been trending down for a few years.

Division IIIA

Final rankings

Ukraine - promotion

Romania

Lithuania

Serbia

Croatia

Bulgaria - relegation

Top Goaltender: Vilte Belicenkaite (Lithuania)

Top Defender: Diana Stolar (Croatia)

Top forward: Valeria Manchak (Ukraine)

Summary: a lot of these programs are very new to the women’s worlds circuit, with teams like Lithuania only competing in this capacity since 2019, Ukraine in 2019, or Serbia since 2021 (though they may have competed in other tournaments / formats). There’s a significant number of U18 players playing in this tournament because of that. Romania and Serbia were the most improved team from last year, Romania going from fourth to second and Serbia going from division B to finishing fourth.

Division IIIB

As Israel should not have been allowed to participate in this tournament due to the genocide they are carrying out, and I will not be acknowledging their participation or any of their players as a result.

Final rankings:

1. Thailand

2. Estonia

4. Singapore

5. Bosnia and Herzegovina

Top goaltender: Sofia Salamatina (Estonia)

Top forward: Apichaya Kosanunt

Summary; Thailand wins gold in its debut! What a fantastic start to women’s worlds for them, as they won every game and scored 20 goals while only ever giving up one. Strong defense meant they only saw 59 shots all tournament. Singapore also made their Women’s Worlds debut and got their first tournament win and saw Tiffany Ong score three goals.

#I’m writing all of this on my phone on my way to work so be gentle #women’s hockey #women’s world championship 2024 #hockey

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3viltwins · 1 month

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God Help The Sinner

a/n: MDNI 18+ only. first work. more to come.

w/c: 2723

t/w: k!dnapping and fr33 use. only official warnings you'll get sluts. with love, 3viltwins.

God help the sinner.

The night had been rough and it was currently 3:13 a.m. with no chance of recovering. My car slowly came to a stop outside of the gas pump to the far right of the gas station. Upon immediately returning from paying inside, what looks to be 6 bikers, come rolling in from the far entrance. I realized very suddenly that I was the only person there besides the ancient cashier lady 100 ft away from me. A small shot of panic rushes through my veins as my eyes dart to the gas that’s barely begun pumping. One of the bikers rides up to me and revs his engine a little bit. Yeah, it takes so much talent to rev your loud ass engine at 3 am.

I’m starting to get more nervous as the agonizing seconds tick by. Through the corner of my eye, I see a tall figure dressed in all black stare at me through a helmet that looks like it was crafted from the darkest obsidian. Its sleek edges slice through the cool air with the precision of a predator on the hunt. Matte black, it drinks in the light, swallowing it whole, leaving only the suggestion of its contours in its wake. But it's not just its ominous appearance that commands attention; it's the air of danger that surrounds it, an aura that sends shivers down my spine and down to my core. Amidst its intimidating allure, there's an undeniable magnetism that draws the eye, like my moth to his flame. A paradox that both thrills and terrifies me in equal measure.

But I needed to get home and I couldn’t be expected to trust the situation at hand. I plastered my most polite, kiss-ass smile onto my face and quickly climbed into my car. The biker that was previously staring at me stood up and ate up the distance between us quicker than I could process. He made two distinct knocks on my window even with his gloved hands. My doors were locked but I rolled down the window just a couple of inches to see what he needed.

He took off his concealing helmet and his raven-black hair cascaded like silken waves around his chiseled features. He is sexy. I noticed his devilish smile immediately, framed with lips that seem sculpted for sin. His piercing eyes found mine instantly; they radiate a magnetic intensity that lowers my defenses and draws me in. As he speaks, his voice resonates with a husky timbre that sends a jolt of arousal through me.

“Well, what do we have here? A pretty little thing like you all alone at a gas station in the dead of night?” Each word drips with intoxicating temptation, weaving a spell that ensnares the senses and leaves you yearning for more. But it's not just his captivating gaze or his velvet voice that sets him apart; it's the way he moves, with the fluid grace of a predator stalking its prey. I smirk at the compliment but the deep underlying message of that sentence suddenly fills me with dread about what’s to come. I reply cautiously. “Excuse me?” He bends down to the window a bit more and silkily replies. “You heard me. You didn’t have to fill up your tank, baby. After all, you’re coming home with me.”

I swiftly roll up the window and put the car in drive. I quickly gain speed and notice all of the individual bikers are staring at me but the only one haunting me still was him. As I drive back to my house, he’s all that’s infiltrating my mind. I almost couldn’t believe it when something started rapidly accelerating, coming up behind me at what looked like a felony speed. I gulped. And it was already too late. I was in a one lane road and he cut in one the side going the opposite direction before advancing quickly in front of me.

I slammed on my brakes as hard as I could and swerved to the side of the road but before I could even think about driving off, he was parked right outside my car’s door. He broke the glass with a metal device I didn’t quite see. In a second or less, the door was ripped open and I was scrambling against his arms, crying out to be let go.

He barely struggled to get me out of the car and was pinning me to the ground with his knees and hands. He put what felt like zip-ties around my wrists, bound behind my back. He yanked me up easily and threw me over his shoulder and I screamed bloody murder. It sounded like there was a satanic ritual happening and I was his offering.

He paid no attention and when my throat ran dry, quiet sobs escaped my mouth. I heard him say, “Sorry sweetheart, no one’s coming to save you. So save your breath.”

“Why are you doing this to me? What kind of sick game are you playing?!”

“Just keep quiet and do as you’re told. Trust me, it’ll be easier for both of us that way.” He set me down roughly and I almost tried to run away but his painful grip on my arm was leaving bruises. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you.” I spat out. He steps closer and towers over me. His voice is low and dangerous as he threatens me.

“Crazy or not, you don’t have much of a choice. So, be a good girl and don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” I broke. The tears flooded down my face as I came to understand the reality of the situation. “Now, let’s get going before I lose my fucking patience.” He puts me on the front of his bike and I’m forced to lean back on him for support. He puts his bike in gear and takes off, making me jolt backwards from the sheer force. He keeps his left hand around my waist, further digging my ass into his crotch. My hands shift uncomfortably behind me and I feel his toned stomach beneath the fabric of his hoodie. He goes fast and the adrenaline pumps through me vigorously. The cold air floods around me and I can’t help but shiver against him. I remember how many miles we go and how many turns we make. But then we arrived at the first location.

I got off the bike as soon as he put the kickstand down and started running into the woods as fast as humanly possible. With a curse under his breath, the biker leaps from his bike, the ground crunching beneath his boots as he gives chase. The branches clawed at his skin as he plunged deeper into the woods, the adrenaline coursing through his veins driving him forward. He could hear my labored breaths up ahead, the sound, a haunting melody, spurring him on. Branches snapped beneath his feet as he closed the distance between us easily, his heart pounding in anticipation. And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, I stumbled, my foot catching on a root hidden in the darkness. With a cry of pain, I tumbled to the forest floor, my body crashing against the unforgiving earth. The biker skids to a halt beside me, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reaches out to me, and grabs my face roughly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice hard with concern as he gazed at me. I don’t answer but instead I twist my body so I’m sitting up and then I made a terrible decision. I spit in his fucking face. He didn’t take kindly to that, like I’d planned.

My head jerked to the side, with a fresh handprint left on my right cheek. The biker’s muscular frame rose up to a stand and I saw every inch of fabric hug his lean, solid physique with a seductive precision, accentuating his commanding presence. The air around him crackles with electricity in his presence, charged with the promise of danger and desire. He is the embodiment of temptation incarnate.

He picked me up and put me over his shoulder once again and gave my ass a sharp slap that caused me to squirm in his arms. My head was getting dizzy from being upside down but I couldn’t do anything to stop what he was doing to me. We arrived at the abandoned building, I assumed, because he stopped at the flickering light above the door with a broken lock. It only took a second before we were inside and he was setting me down upon the cold cement flooring. My head is aching from the change in pressure. My eyes are flickering in and out of focus roughly when he finally clears the silence.

“Relax sweetheart. Just thought we could have a little fun away from prying eyes.” Tears began infiltrating my eyes and running down my crimson cheeks against my will. “Fun?” I croak. “This looks more like the setting to a horror movie than a fun time.” He chuckles darkly and replies, “Don’t be so uptight, baby, that’ll only make this harder for you…I can show you a side of life you’ve only experienced in that pretty little head of yours.”

I’m full on sobbing at this point but he doesn’t care. It only makes him more aroused to see me in so much distress. He roughly dragged me up so I was on my knees right in front of his crotch. Flares were going off in my head but his hand was digging into my right shoulder blade, keeping me pinned. I’m going to have his hand print bruised into my skin tomorrow. If I make it to tomorrow. His left hand glides to his zipper and he slowly lowers his pants.

“God, the way you look right now has my dick pounding so fucking hard.” I only whimper in response before he’s releasing his cock from the restraint of his underwear and pants. “Now open that pretty little mouth like the good girl I know you’re dying to be.” He’s saying all the right things…

He starts slowly, letting me fully work my tongue and mouth around him. After he’s good and wet, he plunges half his length down my throat harshly and spits out softly, “I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself. You just feel so damn good..” My breath catches up as he slips himself in and out in a rhythmic motion. He’s big. I allow my eyes to close while I focus on what I’m doing when he suddenly grabs my chin, causing my eyes to meet his again. “Eyes on me, princess. I want to see you being undone..” Tears are rolling down my eyes and into my mouth and circling around his cock. He jerks himself inside me and I’m almost taking all of him when he fully pulls out of my mouth.

I was just getting used to him filling my throat and his absence pains me more than I can admit. He sees it on my face too and lets out a laugh in response. He drops to his knees in front of me before I can process it and grabs my neck in his hand. His fingers press harshly at the sides of my neck, filling my head with a delicious hypoxia I didn’t know I craved.

Our mouths connected in a millisecond and I found myself kissing him back as he forcibly shoved his tongue in my mouth while still choking me. He dominated my mouth and I felt something like desire burn through me. The fingers of his spare hand trailed the waistband of my jeans until he unbuttoned and unzipped them. I kept whispering, “No,no,no,no,no…” against his lips. But he just whispered back, “Yes,yes,yes,yes,yes…”

Our bodies moved against each other and we couldn’t be closer. I don’t know what he did to me but I came to realize I was deriving pleasure from the intensity. In any other circumstance, this would have been my wildest fantasy. But he was my kidnapper..why was I falling for his seductive act? His hand was in my pants and dipping in between my legs when I involuntarily thrusted into his hand. A groan escaped his mouth and died on my lips. His fingers slipped between my wet cunt causing something primal to consume him.

“Look how wet you are…you’re not supposed to like this you know..” I whimpered in his lips; it was the only response I would allow myself to give him. It’s like a fire, the way he’s touching me. A burning, insatiable flame that consumes every thought and every breath I can give. When he looks at me, it’s as if his eyes trace the curves of my soul, unraveling every hidden desire within me. I’m not supposed to like this. His words sliced through the air like ominous bell chimes. Each note whispered of forbidden desires, stirring a primal hunger within me, as if daring me to succumb to the intoxicating allure of his sin. He undresses me all the way, tearing at my clothes like they were committing a crime for being on my body.

As our lips collided, ravishing each other as our only salvation, he uttered under his breath, “You’re…everything. Mine. All mine.” With a trembling breath I replied hotly, “Mhm..” Nothing could stop his desire then. As he reached into his pants, my breath caught in my throat, adrenaline flooding my veins with fear. Every nerve on edge, I braced myself for the worst as he dragged a sharp knife from his pants and released the blade. I gasped.

He moved the knife to my wrists and to my surprise, he only cut open the bind’s restraining them. “Don’t even think about running away, baby..” Before the fear even got the chance to leave my body, his knife was pointing at my throat. The look on his face was daring me to disobey him. “Lay back now, baby.” The knife followed me as I was put on full display for him. He quickly pumped his cock a few times before lining it up at my entrance. His blade lightly dug into my throat, leaving a threatening sensation in my body.

He pushed into me and I moaned as he let out a husky, “Fuck.” He started working himself in and out, trying to fit all of himself inside my tight cunt. My arms went to the back of his neck and I gripped his hair while he fucked me thoughtless. I didn’t think about how he had threatened me. Or how he kidnapped me and forced himself on me. I didn’t even think about going home or if that was even a possibility for me anymore. My thoughts were consumed by him and what he was doing to me and the sharp blade of metal keeping death close like an old friend.

He sped up as he thrusted into me and I could tell he was about to come undone. But he slowed down drastically and threw his knife to the side with a sharp clatter. He took one hand and placed it beside my head on the cement for support. Just the tip of his cock resided in me and I groaned at the suddenness of his actions. He took his other hand and started circling his thumb on my clit, making me moan sharply. With the extra stimulation, I was thrown over the top and he plunged into me fully.

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” The knot low in my stomach came unraveled and I clenched, fully milking his cock. He drove himself inside me one final time before cumming deep inside my cunt. We came down from our euphoric high together and he kissed me roughly one final time before declaring with a sinister smile, “You’re still coming home with me though.” We disappeared into the late night together and I felt the pull of desire clawing at me as I craved his touch again. I found a forbidden ecstasy, as I willingly surrendered to the allure of captivity and the lust that follows...

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sunflowerabyss · 5 months

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Charms of Fate: Chapter 8

Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot: Amidst the echoes of a bygone era, you return to Hogwarts years after parting ways with Hogwarts. What begins as a journey fueled by nostalgia transforms into an unexpected reunion with Remus Lupin, now a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As the past intertwines with the present, the two former classmates navigate the complexities of grief, the resurgence of friendship, and the unwritten chapters of their shared history in this tale of rediscovery and the magic that binds them together.

Warnings: none? idk. fluff

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In the quiet loneliness of his thoughts, Remus found himself consumed by your presence. Since that day in his cluttered office, the memory of your touch lingered like a gentle flame, a constant warmth that danced on the edges of his consciousness. The soft imprint of your lips on his skin became an indelible mark, a sweet reminder that traced his every waking moment.

The thought of you became a steady companion, accompanying him from the moment he opened his eyes until the time he surrendered to sleep. Even in the realm of dreams, you painted the canvas of his subconscious, integrating yourself into every corner of his mind.

As the days unfolded, Remus recognized a profound truth within himself—he was undeniably, irrevocably in love with you. It wasn't just a fleeting infatuation but a deep, soul-stirring affection that colored the world around him. Your laughter echoed in his mind; your smile etched into the very core of his being.

Yet, amidst the beauty of this newfound emotion, a quiet fear lingered. Remus knew the dangers that lurked within him, the potential for harm that his condition held. He longed for you, yearned to fully embrace what blossomed between you both, but the specter of his own perceived monstrosity held him back.

In the stillness of the night, as the moon cast its silvery glow over his thoughts, Remus couldn't escape the magnetic pull you held over him. Love had taken root, entwining its tendrils around his heart, leaving him to navigate the delicate dance between desire and restraint.

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The air around the Hogwarts grounds held a crisp, autumnal chill as Harry and Professor Lupin strolled along the bridge, the gentle rustle of leaves accompanying their conversation. As Harry kicked a pebble along the path, he decided to broach a topic that had been lingering in his mind.

"Professor," Harry began tentatively, "can I ask you about my parents?"

Remus' features softened by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, nodded and offered a small smile. "Of course, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath before plunging into the inquiry. "What were my parents like? I mean, really like?"

Remus sighed, the weight of memories settling upon him. "Your parents were remarkable people, Harry. James was a bit of a troublemaker, always up for a prank or mischief. But beneath that exterior, he had a heart of gold. He was fiercely loyal and cared deeply for those he loved."

Harry's curiosity prompted him to ask, "What about my mum? Did you know her well?"

"Lily," Remus spoke her name with fondness. "She was an extraordinary witch, talented beyond measure. More than her magical prowess, though, Lily was an uncommonly kind woman. She was there for me, offering her support without judgment."

Harry's gaze dropped to the pebble he kicked along the path. "Did Professor (L/N) know my parents too?"

Remus nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Yes, she did. Lily was her best friend all throughout Hogwarts."

Remus's eyes softened with nostalgia as he continued to share tales of your and Lily's enduring friendship. They stopped, both leaning against the railing, looking out over the forest.

"Lily and Professor (L/N) were inseparable," Remus reminisced, a distant smile on his face. "They complemented each other in the most magical way. Lily's vivacity and warmth balanced (Y/N)'s quiet strength."

He paused, momentarily lost in the memories. "I remember seeing them together, often sitting by the fireplace, engrossed in discussions about magic, life, and everything in between. Lily's fiery spirit and (Y/N)'s calm wisdom created a dynamic that was a joy to witness. I'm sure if you asked, Professor (L/N) would love to tell you more about their friendship." Harry hummed, nodding his head slightly.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves as if nature itself was eavesdropping on the tales of camaraderie. Remus's voice held a blend of gratitude and longing. "Your mother and father, Harry, were a steadfast friend to everyone. In times of trouble, they would face challenges with you, hand in hand. Their friendship was the kind that left an indelible mark on everyone lucky enough to witness it."

Harry, intrigued by the connections that existed between his parents' generation, couldn't help but wonder about the dynamics between his Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms teacher.

"Professor," Harry asked tentatively, "were you and Professor (L/N) friends?"

Remus's expression softened as he delved into the memories. "Yes, Harry, we were friends. We met during our time at Hogwarts. We belonged to the same house—Gryffindor."

"How did you know each other? For how long?" Harry asked.

He continued, "We were just acquaintances at first, at least until your mother finally let your father take her out. It wasn't until our last year at Hogwarts that I considered her a really good and close friend."

Harry's curiosity persisted, and he asked, "What happened after Hogwarts? Did you stay in touch?"

Remus's expression shifted, carrying a touch of melancholy. "After your parents… after that fateful night, things changed. The entire wizarding world was struggling with the aftermath, and each of us coped in our own way. Unfortunately, she and I lost touch over the years. Life took us in different directions."

He added, "I regret the distance that grew between us. I feel having her close would have made it easier."

Harry, the curious boy he was, pressed on. "Professor," he asked cautiously, "did you… love her?"

Remus sighed, his gaze distant as he weighed his words carefully. "Love is a difficult emotion, Harry. She was, and is, a remarkable person. She was my confidante, a dear friend." Someone I trust.

Harry, sensing there was more to the story, pressed on. "I mean, did you ever love her romantically, Professor?"

Yes. I have loved her since the day I met her. Nothing has changed.

Remus hesitated at Harry's more personal inquiries, glancing nervously as if questioning the appropriateness of the conversation. Harry, undeterred, waited for an answer.

With a sigh, Remus began, "Harry, should you really be asking such questions?" Harry, ever the inquisitive teenager, leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Well, I suppose I could say it this way--if I were to love her, it would span a thousand lifetimes, and even then, it wouldn't be enough."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #hogwarts #jk rowling

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shayarbel · 1 year

Text

The thing about Steve and Eddie is that no one, and that means absolutely no one, imagined they’d end up together.

When Robin burst into Steve’s new apartment on a winter’s afternoon, only to find Eddie and him on the sofa, hands tangled in each other’s hair, not even being able to figure out whose lips were which, the TV long forgotten playing in the background, she could barely let out any sound. That is until the door slammed behind her and the men in front of her detangled in unison.

Robin was thrilled of course, making them both tell her everything while the both of them sported a very uncomfortable hard on.

It barely took an hour after she left for the phone to start ringing in the Harrington residence, Dustin’s voice filtering through the line, accusing and bewildered.

“Eddie? Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

“Language shitbag,” Steve snapped, but the smile on his face was enough to light up the whole of Hawkins. Eddie standing behind him with his arms around his waist and his face on the side of his neck, shaking with uncontrollable laughter, his breath warm against Steve’s skin.

Another thing about Steve and Eddie, is that no one imagined how compatible they’d be together.

It was the happiest he’s ever been, if Steve was being honest. To see those he loved so dearly, safe and sound. And while Family Video isn’t the career he once thought he’d have, he found himself content with his daily routine.

Eddie went back to school to finally get his diploma, and on the weekends he’d work at the auto shop on the outskirts of town.

They’d wake up together, and go to sleep together. Share a bath and a cup of tea. A blanket and a home. Sleepy kisses in the morning, and lustful ones between the sheets at night.

The following summer, Corroded Coffin made it big. Some big time talent scout watched them play at the hideout. Steve was the first to learn of the news, Eddie’s grin so big it looked like it might split his face in half.

It was later that night, when they were both under the covers, Eddie fast asleep against his chest, that the thoughts started trickling in. their differences, who they were at the core.

Eddie, so loud and demanding. Painfully charming, undeniably talented and with the world at his feet. And then there was Steve. Former high school king, rich parents and poor family life. No plans for his future, nothing to contribute to their relationship.

And when morning came, Steve was gone.

One last thing about Steve and Eddie, is that no one really expected them to last.

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sorry for any misspelling, or any grammar errors, get off my dick im depressed and it’s three am.

#steve x eddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie drabble #fanfic #my writing #im very sad so im writing sad things #living alone in a foreign country will do that to ya

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stewblog · 30 days

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Monkey Man

Dev Patel was already one of the most promising and interesting talents within his generation of actors. But with Monkey Man, Patel shows he’s got the chops to be just as interesting and talented behind the camera as well.

Monkey Man is being marketed as “John Wick But In India.” And while it’s clear that Patel has taken at least some action lessons to heart from the Wick films (a character in the movie even specifically name drops the character), this inaugural directing effort from the Slumdog Millionaire star is something much more jagged and raw, both in terms of action and vibe.

Patel plays “Kid,” a name he’s never actually called as he only ever offers “Bobby” as an identifier. The name is swiped at a moment’s notice from the container of kitchen cleaner he’s using, but it’s meaningless. He has no identity. He has no life. He has only a heart of rage and vengeance burning inside of him. His sole mission is to kill the policeman who killed his mother and destroyed his village, and he’ll go to any lengths to accomplish this.

What ensues is, at its core, a fairly standard and by-the-numbers revenge flick. Desperation leads to anger, anger leads to failure, then training, then a final and thrilling showdown. Every beat is familiar, bordering on rote. What fuels Patel’s film, though, is less its common tropes and more the ways he fills in the gaps between these all-too-familiar elements. Monkey Man is a movie with a lot on its mind and Patel wants very much to say meaningful things about the state of India’s politics, religion, poverty and corruption. I am (as it is likely quite obvious) not even passively knowledgeable on India’s political state, nor the state of its Hindu leaders. Some of the specifics and nuance may be lost to a Westerner like me, but the heat of Patel’s anger at these institutions remains palpable.

Does that anger translate to depth? Obviously Patel is using this film as an outlet for his frustrations, but it’s difficult for someone in my position to gauge just how much he actually has to say beyond “The State Of Things Is Bad.” Not that the audience is owed more than that, but it often feels like the message comes at the expense of making the contained elements feel more fleshed out. Bobby is little more than a cipher. He goes for most of the film never having a meaningful interaction with anyone that he wasn’t using as a means to an end in his quest for violence. There are flashes to his youth, fleeting memories of his mother and the heroic tales of the Hindu god Hanuman that color his childhood. I suspect this is part of Patel’s grand statement, that a heart hollowed out by anger is only capable of vengeance, but it does make the character less interesting on the whole.

Despite this, and the film’s somewhat sluggish start, Monkey Man is still a remarkably confident first outing. Patel paints the screen with a palette of deep hues and a visceral attention to the details of a life lived amid the slums. It’s a film that feels visceral in its depiction of a world that is inherently violent, even (and especially) when led by those professing peace. Anchoring it all is Patel’s tightly wound performance. Whatever shortcomings there are in Bobby’s characterization on the page, it is at least partially ameliorated by the fire found in Patel’s eyes from beginning to end.

If nothing else, Monkey Man is a terrific calling card for future projects, an undeniable statement of arrival and intent. Whatever shortcomings are threaded through this first film, it’s evident that Patel has the drive, chops and vision to be something greater. I can’t wait to see what his next work will be.

#dev patel #monkey man

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velvet4510 · 6 months

Text

You were a gift to us all. You showed us the meaning of sarcasm and did it with both wit and warmth. Your timing was impeccable. You tickled the funny bones and captured the hearts of an entire generation. Even those who do not list Friends as their #1 favorite TV series share a soft spot for your undeniable talent and genius. You really were the highlight and the core of the show. Now and for always, we recognize and appreciate the brilliance of what you gave us, all the more so because, offscreen, you were a role model of strength and resilience. Thank you for the laughter, dear friend. May you RIP in your rightful place among the souls of the greats and the legends.

#friends series #friends #matthew perry #chandler bing #tribute

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doublism · 1 year

Note

Tell me your villain origin story. I care.

british filmmaker and comedian richard ayoade is one of the most brilliant talented complex and unique creative minds currently inhabiting planet earth that i am aware of but given the nature of society has only been allowed to make two films which are each exquisite and beautiful but NO ONE BUT ME cares this much about them. in particular his second movie the double which no one understands or appreciates as much as a film like that deserves. to be honest i think this is because he was unfortunate enough to be making movies in an era when people increasingly don't want to watch the sort of things he wants to make. by which i mean that the stories he tells tap into something that is so psychologically and philosophical uncomfortable and unsettling that people just write them off with whatever excuse or don't bother thinking harder and digging deeper and grappling with the questions he poses. and i understand like yeah stylistically and taste-wise they may not be your thing i know it's all subjective but i think like the artistry and brilliance of both of his movies are kind of objectively undeniable first of all? and secondly i think at their core both submarine and the double are fundamentally about loneliness - more than that, deep and profound isolation - which is something that no one likes to see in its truest ugliest most unpoetic and unappealing form. you can't make movies like that and find success, certainly not in the reboot-remake-franchise-disney-marvel-starwars age. but to flop as superbly as the double did? man. if richard ayoade wanted to pick up a gun and start killing people i'd understand. and this is why i am evil now.

i would like to add that i am so deeply exhausted at the moment and didn't proofread this or check if it made even a lick of sense so forgive me for gushing about my favorite artist in the least coherent way possible.

#ask #anon

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mochie85 · 2 years

Text

Creature Comforts - Chapter 4

Creature Comforts Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki is enamored by you, and you can’t understand why. He tries to get your attention until a disastrous accident occurs pushing you to rely on him. Will his charm finally win you over? Or will you continue to stay in your comfort zone? Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character Word Count: Over 2.8K Warnings: Fluff. Flirtatious Loki. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Dancing had been a surprise. Or rather, walking with Loki. You were never a dancer, to begin with. But that could’ve been because you never really liked the clubs or the dances that everyone seems to do on the internet. But dancing with Loki was nothing short of euphoria.

You had a wonderful time training with him. He was demanding without it being aggressive. He always encouraged you to do more. To be more.

For the past week and a half, he would come towards the end of your sessions with Chris, under the guise of your boyfriend, and watch the two of you together. Loki had to admit that he felt undeniably jealous. He loathed that you had a history with him. He detested that he’s back in your life now. He was worried that the time you spent with Chris would warm you up to him.

“Overprotective isn’t he?” Chris nodded towards Loki’s direction. “Is he here to beat me up if I get too friendly?” Chris mocked, like it was a funny joke.

“What makes you think I can’t do it myself?” You asked with a deadpan face.

Chris cleared his throat. You could’ve sworn his face faltered just slightly before he straightened up again. “Awe. I forget, you are an Avenger now,” he said with underhanded arrogance. “See you later cupcake, relax. Don’t do too much.” Chris gave you a salute as he walked towards the elevator.

Loki stood next to you and made the same proposal he did every day. “Just say the word, darling, and you’ll never have to see him again.” He offered. Surely, he wouldn’t actually harm Chris. Right?

“He’s fine, Loki. Don’t worry about me.” You soothed.

“Alright, but the moment he steps out of line, you tell me, understood?”

“Sure, sure. He’s all bark and no bite, anyway.”

“Do you like them to bite?” he asked salaciously. You were convinced that one of Loki’s many talents could be to turn anything intrinsically sexual.

“It depends.” You replied.

“On?”

“Who? And where?” You answered without blushing. A heroic effort, indeed.

Loki leaned over your chair, placing his arms on either side of you. Trapping you in your seat. His face was so close to yours. His cologne muddling your senses. He looked so severe. But underneath the simmer, you can see a hint of mischief.

“Me...and wherever you want, sweetness.” He murmured. His deep throaty voice sent a delicious shiver down to your core. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to help it. You gave in to the urge and you kissed him.

Not a deep romantic kiss. Not the kind of kiss that would leave you dizzy and second-guessing all your previous encounters before. No. It was a quick peck. A solid meeting of your lips to his. Enough so that his teasing fizzled away into astonishment.

He righted himself up. “Cheeky flirt.” He said with a slight smirk. “If you want another one, you’re gonna have to get up from that chair.” He crossed his arms and looked sternly at you.

“No. I’m good.” You said dismissively and started to roll away. You didn’t dare smile until your back was to him. Take that, mister-I’m-so-gorgeous-I-can-flirt-anytime-anywhere!

“Now hang on just a minute!” he stopped you. “You’re not done with training today.” You giggled as he grabbed the handles on your chair and pulled you back. “Come,” he beckoned. “My arms have missed you.”

He helped you up and led you as he walked backward, guiding you step by step. You would start at the elevator, then Loki would lead you across the training room. “I told you, you could do it.” He cheered with the proudest smile on his face.

Your arms sat atop his while he held your waist. “Small steps first, darling. To the end of the room. Then I’ll twirl you around as much as you’d like.” He promised. “Your progress is due, no doubt, to you working hard during therapy.”

“We haven’t tried anything like this. If I am walking by next week, it’s because of you, Loki.” You smiled up at him.

“What do you mean? Surely he’s been exercising with you?”

“Just stretches. Chris thinks I might not be ready yet.”

That bastard. “You’ve made great strides. Does he not know how far you’ve come?” What does he get in prolonging your recovery?

When you crossed the gym and stopped at the floor-to-ceiling windows, you looked up from watching your feet and smiled. You looked back to the wheelchair across the great room, gazing at the long stretch of floor that you had just traversed. Excitement bubbled up inside you.

“Ready?” he asked with a mischievous grin. You bit your lip and enthusiastically nodded. With an arm around your waist and the other holding your hand, he picked you up and twirled you around like it was a waltz. He enjoyed having your body pressed close to his. Your legs swung from under you as you laughed a melody in his ear.

This was the part you always looked forward to whenever you trained with Loki. It wasn’t the child-like feeling of being spun around. It was the solace you felt in his arms. At first, you felt a little embarrassed by it, but you couldn’t stop the laughter from breaking through. It was refreshing to feel a little naïve and innocent again after everything you’ve gone through.

“Let’s see how much stronger your legs have gotten. Hmm?” he said.

He lowered his hands and reached for the back of your thighs and lifted you up slightly higher. With a small gasp escaping your lips, he wrapped your legs around his waist. He ran his hands up your thighs and around your hips, holding you flush against him.

There was a smoldering heat in his eyes. Followed by a small grunt as he tried to adjust himself in between you. “Wrap your legs around me, darling, can you do that?” he asked. Your thighs burned holding yourself up around his waist. “You’re getting so much stronger! And it’s only been a week! You’ll be back in the field in no time.” He noted with his low, gravelly voice. “Look! No hands!” he laughed as he let go of your legs. You clung tighter around his neck, not trusting your thighs to give out on you. His laughter vibrated in between your bodies as he wrapped his arms behind you again to support you.

“Don’t you dare drop me!” You threatened as you laughed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetness.” He answered with the most hypnotizing look on his face.

Heat rose within you. You looked at him with quiet shock as he held you close to him. You were left speechless.

“A-hem.” Nat cleared her throat from the elevator. Her eyes sparkling, jumping between the two of you and the position she found you in. “The rest of the team will be down soon.” Warning the two of you as she made her way to the weight racks behind you.

“Well darling, shall we continue this in a more private setting?” Loki said bringing you closer to him. You took a deep breath and swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t notice the exhilaration creeping all over you.

You almost said ‘yes.’ Almost. “No. I’m worn out. I think. I’d like to go back now.”

“As you wish.” With a splay of his fingers, your chair rolled over to you as if it were possessed.

“Thank you,” you whispered so close to his lips that he could feel the heat from them. Just like the sun, he thought. You looked into his eyes a little longer before you heard the elevator bell and Loki reverently sat you down.

“I’ll get you some water. Would you like some water? I’m going to find us water.” Loki pointed as he backed away, flustered. The rest of the team came in, scattering around the various workout equipment.

“So…” Nat lingered close to you. You gave her a cheek-hurting grin as your lips thinned into a smile. “You two have gotten really close.”

“He’s been kind and encouraging.” You answered in a humbling tone. Nat pushed you back towards the lift as you waved hello to some of your fellow teammates.

“Why don’t the two of you just go out already?”

“I – I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I don’t want to ruin something…” You scratched your head, “I’m not what I used to be. I can’t be the girl that he needs right now. What exactly can I do for him? It wouldn’t be an equal relationship. He would just be taking care of me all the time. Like a chore. I don’t want to put that on him.” You were at a loss for words. How do you express that you’d feel guilty – even more guilty than now – if he were to do anything for you.

“Hun. You know we love you, right?” Nat said crouching down to your eye level. “It’s never a chore if it comes from a place of love.” She held your hands and smiled.

You smiled at her beautiful face. “Thanks, babe. I love you guys too.” Nat stood up, pushing the call button on the lift.

“What about your trainer? What’s up with him?”

You raised an eyebrow at her. Nat just shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly. “He actually made a pass at me the other day, and I felt really uncomfortable.” You made a disgusting face towards her. “I mean as far as he knew, I was dating Loki. But he still wanted to hit on me? Gross. Plus, I’m not getting anywhere with the stretches. I feel like he's purposely prolonging his time here.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Nat said clenching and un-clenching her fist. You knew what her version of talking would mean.

“No. I’m gonna let him go.”

“As in, fire him?”

“Yeah. He’s just a big flirt. He’s like that with everybody. He’s a player. I can’t trust him. How could I trust him? We’re both so different.”

“You don’t think he’ll change?”

“He won’t change. I don’t know what he wants with me.”

“So what are you going to tell him? How long are you going to keep this up?”

“Until I can stand on my own again.” You said in an uncaring tone. You had no plans of including Chris back into your life. He had not changed one bit. Except for getting more condescending. You did not need that in your life right now. Especially when you have a literal god trying to get your affections. Loki joined you shortly after that, quietly walking up behind the two of you.

“Perfect timing,” Nat said as the elevator doors opened. “Will you take her to her room?” Nat asked him.

“Mhmm.” Loki nodded. He handed you your bottle of water and you looked up to him with gratitude. He wheeled you into the lift and Nat gave you a farewell wink before the doors closed.

Loki was quiet, the whole elevator ride up to the common rooms.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. “You’re not usually this quiet.” You giggled.

“Nothing. I…um…got into a bit of something and I’m not quite sure how to get out of it.”

“Oh. Well, if you want, I can help you with it.”

“No. That’s alright. You’re probably tired. I won’t keep you.” Loki said looking down at his feet.

As soon as the lift opened, he pushed you down the hallway towards your bedroom. His silence was so loud that it worried you. He dropped you off in front of your door and said goodbye. With a wave, he quickly turned and left.

No smile.

No witty banter.

Not even a thickly laced innuendo of laying you down on your bed.

Loki just turned and left.

As soon as Loki got into his chambers. He stumbled back to his door and collapsed. He felt an avalanche of emotions barreling toward him simultaneously. Hurt. Fear. Disgust. But mostly Anger. It took all he had to not leave you there after what he heard down at the gym.

“Yeah. He’s just a big flirt. He’s like that with everybody. He’s a player. I can’t trust him. How could I trust him? We’re both so different.” He heard your voice carry down the hall as he approached.

“You don’t think he’ll change?” Romanoff asked.

“He won’t change. I don’t know what he wants with me.”

“So what are you going to tell him? How long are you going to keep this up?”

“Until I can stand on my own again.” He heard you say. And it sounded so cold. So distant.

He knew that you were clever. He had said as much when he first tried to woo you. But he never thought you were manipulative to take advantage of his emotions like that? Just so you could get back on your feet faster? Loki was so confused and upset. He thought he was getting somewhere with you. That maybe you started to reciprocate his feelings.

He was so depressed when you went into a coma and thought he would never see you again. When you had awoken, you sought him out. I don’t understand. How can she say those things? I mean, she just kissed me! Or was that all part of your scheming too? She doesn’t trust me.

Is this how all relationships are to be with him? Can he never find someone who will see past his mistakes?

The next morning, towards the end of your physical therapy. You had stood up in front of Chris. “That’s amazing.” He said. “I’m so glad the therapy has been working for you.”

Your legs felt like jelly. But you did it all on your own. You didn’t want to show Chris the great effort it took for you to remain standing. You stood up proud with your head held high. You couldn’t wait to show Loki when he arrived. You might even walk to him.

“You see. You and I make a great team. I think you should reconsider my offer. Come to dinner with me this Saturday.” Chris asked again.

“You’ve been helpful with the stretches. But Loki - my boyfriend - has been helping me walk around after our sessions.”

“Oh! Is that right? Well, you were never one to take things slow. Just be careful. Know your limits.” He said to you as he packed up his duffel bag.

“I do know my limits. Turns out they’re a lot higher than I believed.” You gave him an unsympathetic smile. Something you picked up from Loki whenever he wanted to make a point to someone. “I appreciate all you’ve done Chris. But I don’t think we’ll be needing your services anymore.”

“But your boss paid for one month.” He argued.

“Tony’s not my boss. He’s more like the genius, disgruntled uncle who can buy out your company from under you if you so much as make the wrong move around me.” You quipped. “I’ll make sure you get paid your one month. I appreciate your time.”

Chris stared at you. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “You’re gonna break my heart again, cupcake.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. Have fun with your prince.”

“He is a god! And don’t you forget it!” You watched Chris leave the elevator. You didn’t realize you held your breath in until the doors closed and you let out a massive exhale.

Your knees shook and your muscles ached. You couldn’t stand up any longer, so you decided to wait for Loki, sitting down in your wheelchair. The high you were feeling slowly ebbing away the longer it took for Loki to arrive.

Minutes passed. You heard the elevator bell ding a couple times but it never stopped on your floor.

You started getting anxious. He was usually here before you ended your session with Chris. You recalled the troubled look on his face yesterday. Maybe he’s off dealing with that? Well, if that’s the case, there’s no use waiting for him at the gym.

You felt so guilty. Loki’s been helping you with your atrophy for over a week. You were able to stand now and walk with aid because of him. Now he’s neglected some part of his life and it’s because of you.

You used your wheelchair as a walker and got onto the elevator to go up to the common rooms. When you approached his door, you hesitated. Is this weird? What do I even say? You’ve never had to look for him before. He always just found you.

Did I do too much? Was that kiss yesterday over the line? Maybe Chris was right.

You knocked on his door once. Twice. After two minutes. You concluded he wasn’t in his room and you just left, already missing him.

⬅️Chapter 3 | Chapter 5➡️

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