#they’re not even that old they mostly just call each other old

[jq37]

Your sister who you love so much (even though you’ve never shown it) asks you to be her sister again, her true sister, in deed not just in name. And yes, of course that’s what you want. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now that she’s shattered your defenses and destroyed the ones who would pit you against each other and died right before your eyes, how could you refuse? How could your answer be anything but yes?

So you go home with her, not the ruins of your perfectly posh prison, but a new home which provides love and care and bunk beds and it’s so so nice. Ridiculously nice. Sickeningly nice. And a small, sick part of you almost misses your old home (if you can even call it a home) because yes, it was cruel and awful and you hated every second of it but you knew where you fit. You knew what your role was. You don’t fit in here. Everyone accepts you because they’re all so nice, but they don’t know how to volley back your sharp words or find a hidden, “I love you” within an offhanded insult. 

And then your sister leaves to save the world again because that’s who she is. She’s the kind of person who goes out to save the world with her friends when she’s needed and you’re not. You’re not, not, not. Not on any count. You don’t save things, you destroy them. And friends? You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable for friends so of course that’s out. Your sister is 16 and she’s out saving the world for the third time and you, fully grown at 18, are a wanted criminal who hasn’t even properly graduated from high school. You can’t stop thinking about it and, without your sister and her friends occupying the house as a buffer, the ones who are left try to get you to talk about it so you make a rash decision, as you are wont to do. You leave, like a thief in the night. You can make your own way. You can. You’ll prove it.

You find a shitty apartment and pay for it with the ill-gotten spoils from one of your many exploits. You could probably pawn some treasure for more luxurious  accommodations–there is that chest of rubies just lying around–but you don’t. That’s not what you deserve. And what if your sister needs help later? You don’t have access to your parental funds anymore which means she doesn’t either. You know she won’t ask anyone for help–you wouldn’t. But someone has to look after her. You’re an abjuration wizard. You protect people. You protect her. No, that’s a lie. But you want to make it not a lie. You want to start now.

If you’re saving the rubies then you need a source of income. You narrow down your least villainous talents to try and find a suitable job and hit on teacher. You’re good at magic, right? So how hard can teaching it be? Hopefully not as hard as securing the job, which proves trickier than expected because, oh right, you’re a wanted criminal who hasn’t graduated high school. But you dip into your villainous talents once more and tell yourself it’s for a good cause. You secure the job. You’re doing it. You’re making your own way. 

You want to text your sister to see if she’s doing alright but you don’t want to intrude and you don’t want to answer any questions about what you’ve been doing because then either you’ll have to lie or explain that you’ve left again, right after you promised you’d be there. Both options make your heart ache, especially since it’s her birthday. So you wait until the house is empty (mostly empty–you’re never really alone in a haunted house) and enter the room you and your sister shared for too brief a time. You paint her walls with carefully rendered runes, filled with all your abjuration magic and stamped with your arcane mark. It’s a possessive bit of spellcraft. A selfish claiming of a climactic kill. You mean to make a different kind of claim. You are claiming your sister, as she asked you to months ago. You are telling the world that she will not be fucked with while you live. Your rooms were so close before. You could hear her. You knew every night she went to bed in the grips of a panic attack with no one to console her. She won’t have to feel unsafe in her own room again. You can make sure of that at least. 

The sun rises one morning and you know that means your sister is alive and well and coming home. You teleport to Falinel to make sure she returns to her favorite dessert. It’s worth the spell slot and the chance of being recognized. The tower where they kept you is long destroyed and you know that this time, if you were ever captured or even killed, rescue wouldn’t be measured in a matter of months. It would be days. Hours even if your clever sister and her powerful divination magic put things together faster. The thought fills you with more emotion than you know what to do with. You leave a note. “I love you,” you think. “Enjoy the nemesis ward,” you write. 

Practicing magic, as it turns out, is a very different skill than teaching magic. The children are loud and obnoxious and you don’t quite realize that maybe your expectations are too high between the hothouse you grew up in and your sister being the world’s greatest diviner, fullstop. You know you can always go back to the manor, but that somehow makes it easier to stick it out. You’ve always been taught that pressure provides the best results but there’s something about the security of a safety net that makes everything a bit more bearable. And so what if you have to take a second job involving a light criminal element. You’re only smuggling–that’s barely even a real crime.

Your sister who has saved the world thrice now, texts you and she wants help. She is looking to you for help. And you do your best to oblige. You offer your knowledge, you offer your rubies, you invite her over again and again. She sends you a text and deletes it. You’re not the diviner in the family but you drain your spell slots scrying for information you already know. Information that you'll hear from her own lips in just a few hours. “I love you.”

She finally visits and you’re not unaware of the state of your apartment. You know you’ve been too exhausted for an Unseen Servant or even a round of Prestidigitations but you know that your sister has seen your mind and there’s nothing messier about you than that. She teases you and you tease her back. She’s the only one who understands how to deliver a complement with a backhand so you can receive it without your skin crawling. The only one who knows how much tartness you need with your sweetness. 

Later, she visits again. She sits in your filthy apartment and you watch trash TV and it’s the highlight of your week. Your month even. That should feel pathetic but, somehow it doesn’t. You want to tell her. She deserves to hear it from time to time without having to filter out the layers of prickliness that you add as second nature, a layer of armor as ever present as your abjurer’s ward. You may not be able to handle naked sentiment but she can. You’ve seen her with her friends. How affectionate they are. You’ve always been taught that loose lips sink ships but you have experience with ship sinking and this prospect fills you with much less dread. You tell her and it’s awkward and fumbling but you manage. Maybe loving people isn’t so different from loving cats.

You have a new job which is perfect because the school year is almost over and, blackmail or no, you aren’t sure how many times you’ll be able to get away with casting Sleep on your class to give yourself a break. Honestly, you should have applied for jobs in Leviathan from the start. Why would pirates care about your sketchy history and lack of credentials? You could teleport yourself to Leviathan every day but that would be a waste of a spell slot when the door to Leviathan is right there in the manor (and if your sister happens to be there too then hey, happy coincidence). While you’re there, you might as well do your laundry. And stay for dinner from time to time. And spend time with your sister in your her room where your runes stand sentinel and your old bunk lays untouched. You don’t think you’re staring but later, as you go to grab a snack from the kitchen your sister throws you a casual, over the shoulder glance. 

“You can just move back in, if you want.”

And would it really be that easy? Just like that? After a year of trying to make a point or a plan or a better version of yourself or whatever? Just like that? 

You remember a year ago. You and your sister and words that will be burned into your mind forever. 

“Despite the fact that you have not earned it, I do love you.”

Just like that. 

You say yes. You stay. 

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #d20 #spoilers #aelwyn abernant #you wanna hear something funny? #this was supposed to be a 3 paragraph post tops #I am boo boo the fool #adaine abernant #abernant sisters #i am back on my bullshit

[littlemonday]

So much of the difference in player response to the Emperor vs. Raphael comes down to aesthetics.

I’ve been seeing a lot of fan posting of Raphael lately, which is honestly fine. I enjoy seeing fan creations on all the characters. But I feel like I need to address something that is, for me, rather glaring in the fandom. Raphael is a pretty popular character, while the Emperor gets so much hate posting I’ve had to block users and entire groups on other sites because it was so over the top. These characters are functionally quite similar in the game, but the disparity in how they’re each perceived couldn’t be more different.

Both characters need to form an alliance with the main character. Both characters need the main character to defeat the brain. Both characters are willing to manipulate the main character to meet their own ends. But, one character is a conventionally attractive middle aged man, and the other is a humanoid squid monster. (How many times have we all seen posts about how upset someone was when their hot dream guardian turned out to be the squid monster?)

Not only is Raphael conventionally attractive, but he stays that way when he reveals himself as a devil.The Emperor presents himself as someone the main character would trust, but when he’s finally revealed, he bears no resemblance to the facade he was wearing - a facade that he sincerely believed was necessary to keep himself safe and to win your trust. Raphael is quite literally the handsome devil. His ascended form barely makes an appearance, but even so that form is not alien. It’s devilish, but not alien, and “alien” unlike devilish, invokes a deeply discomforting fear of the unknown.

Raphael is all opulence and performance, wearing tailored clothing and living in a grandiose house that hides the horrors of what happens there until late into act 3. While the mind flayer colonies by comparison are grotesque organisms that look like the inside of a body, and the Emperor’s home is a bare bones cellar with the last remaining keepsakes of his former life. The chains he uses to hold his victims are right out in the open.

Raphael is like an old school campy Disney villain who tries to entertain you all while openly admitting that he wants you to come to him when you’re desperate and all hope is gone. And like those old Disney villains, he just enjoys being evil. He even comes with his own villain song that he sings. He enjoys your suffering. He’s openly playing with his food. The Emperor does try to seduce you, but mostly tries to appeal to your pragmatism and empathy. However, he doesn’t have Disney villain camp to help him out here. He embodies all the body horror and fear over the player's loss of humanity by virtue of him being a mind flayer. He does have a song, but most of us miss it on our first play through and don’t hear its tragic lyrics.

Raphael, and this one is perhaps the most frustrating to me, imprisoned and tortured Hope for years! He takes advantage of people, including orphans, and gets them to sign away their souls for eternal torment in exchange for something they desperately want or need in life. While the Emperor has that one infamous cutscene in which we see him enthrall Stelmane, but it comes on the heels of the player dehumanizing and provoking him. A lot of players will refer to this as a “call out” and a “mask off” moment, which is very disingenuous framing. It’s frustrating that so few players never seem to consider the deeper role their choices may play in triggering this scene: you treat him like an inhuman monster, and you get an inhuman monster. Players will complain all the time about how the Emperor manipulates you and lies about everything, but apparently in this one scene he’s suddenly being completely honest and not manipulating you? So many never consider the possibility of confirmation bias when it comes to this character.

As I said, this cutscene is an obvious threat, but I know that just because he’s threatening you, it doesn’t mean there’s no truth to what you’re seeing. However, it also doesn’t mean that this is somehow “the truth” as so many players seem to think it is. I’ll write more on this in another post, but there’s just not enough information in the game to make definitive conclusions on their relationship. And I bring this up because I don’t see anywhere near the outrage over Hope as I see over Stelmane.

Then there’s Ansur. The Emperor killed his love, Ansur, out of self defense (we know this from Ansur himself), and for a lot of players, this was what solidified their hatred for the Emperor, and they will endlessly hate post about it. Raphael, on the other hand, never killed any of his loves. But the reason he never killed any of his loves is because he’s never loved anyone. He’s incapable of it, and anyone he has killed was, at best, a mere tool for his use.

Which brings me to my next point, even though both characters are trying to manipulate you to their own ends, only the Emperor sees you as more than a means to an end. Raphael does not. In fact, I wrote a lot of words on this very topic.

I’ve had people tell me that they like Raphael more because he’s upfront with his intentions, while the Emperor isn’t. That’s not entirely true. The Emperor tells you he wants his freedom, even tells you the power he uses to protect you is power he’s stolen, but he goes to great lengths to hide his identity, where Raphael barely goes to any lengths at all. As I said, the Emperor sincerely believes he must do this to protect himself. He likes to puff his chest out, but he’s quite aware of his own vulnerability, so he lives a life in which he’s constantly hiding and disguising himself. He’s surviving, as he puts it in the end. Raphael is essentially a prince in the Hells who wields a lot of power, and whatever vulnerabilities he might have are well protected. Whatever difference this makes is not enough to justify the gulf in how much hate the Emperor receives versus how little Raphael does.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this is not me saying that you have to like one character or dislike another. That’s personal, and I’m not going to waste time telling people how to feel. So please don’t take away from this that I want to see more hate posting about Raphael. I don’t! Please don’t hate post about any characters, and if you absolutely must, please don’t use character tags to do so. What I am saying is that there’s a clear double standard in this fandom, and I want more players to engage with this media in a way that is both empathetic and analytical. I think both of those things together can prevent a lot of toxicity.

#bg3 #the emperor #the emperor bg3 #bg3 emperor #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #raphael #media criticism #not a hate post #fandoms

[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

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[sinofwriting]

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

@cixrosie @darleneslane @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @boiohboii @topguncultleader

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Better Man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, minor angst

Summary: You're a single mom who hates bringing men into your life only to have them leave. Your daughter deserves better than that. You're currently dating Spencer, and you're wondering if it's the right time to bring him into her life. Will it be worth it?

Square Filled: “you want? you want? you want? what about what I want?” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

I can do this. I’m more than capable of getting breakfast ready for both me and my daughter. Even if she is screaming her head off. Oh, please be quiet. Please make it stop.

“Gemma, please stop crying. I am getting your food.” She continues to cry. “Baby, please. I’m working as hard as I can right now.”

If anyone were to look in your kitchen window, they would see a woman who is just trying to feed her child while looking like a raccoon with messy bedhead hair. The bags under your eyes don’t help your case, either, but you haven’t gotten much sleep this past week. Gemma has been sick and has been keeping you up at all hours of the night.

Sometimes you feel like a shitty mom because it seems like whatever you do isn’t enough. Being a single mom is hard. No one told you how to do this. No one gave you a rule book and said, “Here you go! Study for the final exam!” where the final exam is actually having a kid. You’re doing the best you can do even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Before you can start crying because Gemma is crying, you plate some bananas, cereal, and small strawberries on a plate for her. She immediately stops crying when the food is in front of her, and she digs in. You chuckle tiredly and kiss the top of her head. She is getting so old. It seems like yesterday you birthed her when really, it’s been eight months.

Your phone rings and you light up at seeing Spencer’s name.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey. I’m off this weekend if you want to hang out.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get a sitter,” you sigh. “I’m pretty low on money right now.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind if you bring her along. I understand if you don’t want to, but I’m really great with kids. I’d love it if she came along.”

You and Spencer have been seeing each other for a few months but he hasn’t met your daughter yet. You don’t want to introduce her to someone new if they’re not going to be in your life for very long. You really like Spencer and you hope he’s going to be in your life for a long time. He’s been very patient when it comes to your daughter, and maybe it’s time they meet.

“Why don’t you come over? I’d feel more comfortable having a date here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time you meet Gemma.”

“Okay, yeah! I’ll bring some food over and we can cook together.”

“That’d be amazing,” you smile.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay. Bye.” You hang up with a huge smile on your face. “You hear that, Gemma? You get to meet Spencer. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

She squeals in response but it’s mostly because she wants more bananas. You’re not worried that she will love him, it’s if Spencer will love her. You can’t think about that. You have work to get to. The call center you work at has a daycare attached to it for parents who can’t get someone to watch their kids, so every day is Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.

The weekend comes faster than you expected but that means Spencer gets to come over. He might even spend the night if all goes well. When Spencer comes over, he is nothing but sweet towards Gemma. She is playing in her playpen but as soon as Spencer walks in, she squeals and crawls over to him.

“Spencer, this is Gemma. Baby, this is Spencer.” Spencer grins and picks her up once she gets to him. “I’ve been trying to get her to walk lately. She turns eight months next week.”

“Hi, Gemma. Do you want to walk for Mama? Yeah, I can see it. You’ll get there,” he chuckles.

Spencer brings in the groceries he bought so you two can cook lunch while Gemma plays and watches Spongebob. While you don’t know how to be a single mom, and learning every day to be better, you’d rather do this than be with the ex who knocked you up. He left you when you were pregnant so it’s just been you and Gemma for a long time now. It’s hard to let men in your life, especially with a kid so young, but Spencer has been nothing but a complete gentleman to you. He takes things at your pace, never does anything to make you uncomfortable, and always puts you and Gemma first.

Dinner is spent talking about your week and the plans you have this weekend and afterward, Spencer goes to the living room to play with Gemma some more. He’s really warming up to her. Maybe this is going to be a good thing. Your phone rings and your blood runs cold when you see who is calling you. You excuse yourself and step off to the side while Spencer tosses Gemma in the air a few inches only to catch her. Her laughter makes this night all the better.

“What do you want?” you ask when you answer the phone.

“Hey, you got any money to spot me? I’m in a bit of a pickle,” your ex asks.

“Are you kidding me right now? You call me up after how many months only to ask for money?”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Fuck no,” you hiss on the phone. “This might be in your grand plan, but I want you to actually start acting like a dad and be there for Gemma. You know, the daughter you have?”

“You want? You want? You want? What about what I want?”

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“Fuck this. I can’t believe calling you was ever a good idea.”

He hangs up after those harsh words, and you try your hardest not to cry. He’s fucking lucky you’re not going after him for child support, but maybe you should.

“Y/N! Look!” You look at Spencer and Gemma to see her walking toward him on wobbly legs. “She’s walking!”

“Gemma!” you gasp and rush over. “You’re walking, baby!”

Before she can fall to the ground, Spencer scoops her in his arms and kisses her cheeks. She has no idea what is going on but she loves the attention. Spencer looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here. Seeing him with Gemma today has only made you realize that he’s the only man you ever want in Gemma’s life.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff

[junkdrawerfics]

Simple Moment

I love Jasper Hale more than most things in my life.

Summary: Just a cute, fluffy moment with Jasper and his human, the reader. Mostly Bella and Alice talking about the two of you.

Word Count: 702

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

“So that’s Jasper’s girlfriend?” Bella asks Alice as they watch a familiar looking girl stride up to said vampire. She waggles her hand in front of the blond’s face, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was stuck in. A small smile slips onto Bella’s lips as she watches him grin and murmur some greeting.

“Yep, that’s (Y/n),” Alice replies, smiling along fondly, “We met her just a year ago. She’s Jasper’s singer, like you’re Edward’s.”

Bella’s brows shoot up at this, “She’s human?” She knew that Jasper didn’t have complete control of his instincts yet, so the fact that he could be around someone whose blood is so tempting to him seems implausible. Yet there you are, pressing into his side with an adoring smile.

“Crazy huh?” Alice giggles at the gobsmacked look on her friend’s face, “Trust me, it wasn’t pretty at first. Jasper had to stay home for weeks because he couldn’t control himself at school.”

A question hangs on the tip of her tongue, but Bella keeps it to herself. It’s none of her business how they eventually came together, she imagines it might have been something similar to her and Edward’s story. Her curious eyes dart over to Jasper and the girl again. They’re settled down on the roots of a nearby tree, talking and smiling at each other. The softness of the moment strikes her. Had she ever seen the vampire look so carefree? Especially around a human?

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” The ravenette murmurs with a far away look, “She’ll be like us one day too, I’ve seen it, and they look so happy. She’s the one that helps him learn control. He’s even the one who changes her, I think. That part was still a little unclear.”

Bella looks at her with a smile, “It’s so cool that you’ve seen all of that.”

Alice shrugs but her smile betrays the pride she feels for her gift, “It has come to me over the months, not all together, you know. I’m just so happy he has someone now.”

Both look over at the couple again, fondness and genuine joy rolling off of them.

Jasper smiles slightly, eyes darting over to the pair.

“What is it?” You ask, glancing around the blonde to see his sister and the new girl staring at the two of you. A dark blush is quick to cover your face, which you hide in his shoulder.

Jasper chuckles lightly, pressing an adoring kiss to the crown of your head, “No worries, darlin’, they’re happy you’re here.”

You peak up at him with a small, teasing grin, “Really? And how do you feel, huh?”

The blonde raises an eyebrow at you, one of his oh so charming smirks pulling at the corner of his lips, “Why, it’s a pleasure to have you by my side, ma’am.”

Your teasing smile melts into a sigh and you bury your face back into his shoulder. Just his voice alone sets free a flock of butterflies in your chest. You’re probably as red as a tomato again.

“Don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old,” you grumble to try and hide just how flustered his words made you feel.

“My apologies,” you can hear the grin in his voice, “...ma’am.”

You punch him in the side, knowing all too well that it won’t actually hurt him, but at least the intention is there. Jasper just chuckles again and pulls away to look at your bright face.

“I’m just teasin’ darlin’,” he hums, “You get riled up so easy.”

“You’re so mean.” You pout, scrunching your nose up at him.

The vampire only grins and leans close to press his cold lips against your forehead. Eyes fluttering closed, you take a moment to just savor the feeling. You never want it to go away. You never want him to go away.

“I love you, Jasper,” you mumble as you tuck back into his side.

He pulls you close, enveloped in your scent but so stricken with the genuine emotions rolling off you that it doesn’t even seem to bother him.

“I love you too, darlin’.” The words are soft, spoken so only you will hear him.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #x reader #reader #reader insert #twilight #twilight saga #vampire #jasper whitlock x reader #i love him

[emo-batboy]

Somewhere out there in the DC multiverse, there’s a world where Battinson’s parents didn’t die, and he became the Lance Stroll of Formula One racing. Wayne Enterprises has an F1 team, Thomas brought Bruce to races when he was young, they indulged his love of cars until he was winning kart races at 8. He BEGGED to help design the race cars, ended up making a great car, and now Wayne has turned from a midfield team to nearly top three.

You’d think everyone hates Bruce because he’s a nepo baby, but he’s just so nice and smiley (like Lance lol) that everyone loves him anyway. His dad is the team’s chairman and pretty hands-on just like Lawrence Stroll. Fans call Bruce the F1 Princess as a joke since he’s already the Prince of Gotham, but then it sticks, and now everyone makes edits of him with tiaras on every time he makes it to the podium. He doesn’t get it, but he’s not going to complain either. His fans are just silly. (He blushes so much when anyone calls him princess to his face, though. Fight me.)

Bruce still insists on everything being black because it’s his favorite color. It was already mostly black before he joined, but now it’s even blacker. His suit is all black. The car is all black. The helmet is all black. He loves it. He looks just like the dark, regal old money rich boy you’d imagine until he’s smiling and talking about racing. (Imagine a meme with two cars next to each other, one being WE’s. It says: “Bruce’s Car v. Bruce’s Personality.” The other one is covered in glitter obv.) One time, a little girl gives him a tiara that she painted black herself and asks him to wear it if he wins. (He does win. He puts it on at the podium. He’s embarrassed the entire time. The champagne rubs some of the black away. It’s a treasured memory and sits right on top in his trophy case.)

His fellow drivers call him Brucie to tease him. He’s a bit awkward during interviews, but that just makes him endearing. He’s also tall for an F1 driver (nepo baby core) so there’s always jokes about him towering over everyone. One time, he came second to Lewis Hamilton, but you could still see he was visibly standing taller on the podium, and people would not stop making jokes about it. (It was mostly his hair, but you know how Twitter is.) Speaking of hair, it will NOT stay flat. He looks insane every time he takes his helmet off. He could be sweating for hours in there but when he takes the thing off, he looks like he’s through in a tornado. (Again, memes.) He knows so much about car mechanics, even for a driver, and will regularly start talking to other drivers or the press about the tiniest of parts in the engine or break system, unaware that everyone is completely lost. (Also memes about that.)

When he’s 23, he suffers a pretty bad crash. It knocks him out for about twenty seconds, and his mom and dad are ready to pull him completely from the sport, but he refuses to stop, and despite missing a few races to recover—his dad’s still a doctor—he ends up winning the next race and gets to stay.

During his F1 career, it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’ll get fastest laps, but he only gets podium like 40–50% of the time. There’s always drama that apparently Wayne Enterprises is trying to become top three, but they insist that they’re not as competitive. They will always have respect for every team, and it shows. They never join in on protests. They always wish the other teams luck, and they genuinely congratulate the winners. Bruce is always the first to hug the winner :)

Before Bruce joined, the Wayne team was always a midfield team, and they were perfectly comfortable with it. WE had good-looking cars, they designed good-looking cars, and they sold good-looking cars, and F1 was just a way of promoting that. Thomas loved watching the races, and he was happy to see them get podium a few times per season, and that was it.

Until Bruce became their lead driver, and he wanted to really earn his seat, and he wanted to get podium, and he wanted to design a faster car, and he wanted to win, and Thomas Wayne couldn’t say no to his son, and suddenly Wayne Enterprises was inching closer and closer to the front of the grid. Now, they’re still not The Best, but they’re a team that future drivers look up to.

During a season of DTS, Bruce is 27. Netflix films the Wayne episode when there’s a fatal crash in F2, and Bruce was nearby when it happened. He ends up crying on camera for ten minutes. They had to cut almost all of it, but we get the most gut-wrenching confessional about how after he heard the news, in that moment, he didn’t want to be an F1 driver. He admits that if he hadn’t become a driver, he was going to become a doctor like his father, and he wonders if he could have saved the driver’s life if he did that instead. “What am I really doing if I can’t help others? I could have been anything…Maybe being a driver was selfish. Maybe I don’t belong on the track anymore.”

He’s visibly distraught during the moment of silence on the day of the race, but Bruce decided to continue because he wants to make the fans and spectators happy. (That’s his job, anyway. That’s what he does.) Despite getting pole position the previous day, he doesn’t get fastest lap or make it to the podium, but he still gets fourth. He has a long talk with his father away from cameras and calls his mom. The future’s uncertain for a few days until Bruce comes back to training. To finish the episode, he says he’s going to continue driving, even if he might need a bit of time to get his confidence back, and he pledges to one day make the safest F1 car ever seen. Even if it’s part of the risk of being a driver, he doesn’t want to see any more drivers losing their lives to the sport they love.

When he’s around 35 or 40, he retires from Formula One so he can inherit Wayne Enterprises, and he takes his father’s place as chairman of the team. Since he has the time now, he holds up on his promise to make an even safer car—the designs inspiring safer car designs for other teams as well—and they pick out two incredible drivers who end up finally (FINALLY) moving Wayne Enterprises into one of the top three teams. They win the world championship twice in a row before falling back a bit and only winning it every couple of years, but they’re nonetheless fierce competitors. Bruce still has a ton of kids, some of which like F1 just like he does, but he is the only Wayne to become a Formula One driver.

I just think Battinson would love driving for F1 :)

#can you tell I’m watching DTS rn lol #for context: Lance Stroll is the son of a billionaire who owns a team and he races for them #but he’s also super sweet and people call him a princess sometimes cuz he’s so sunny and nice #everyone loves him #and this doesn’t even mention the shipping #good lord he’d get shipped with everyone #is there a Battinson F1 racer au PLEASE #battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #dc universe #dc #Thomas and Martha survive AU #formula one #formula racing #formula 1 #lance stroll #lawrence stroll #soft bruce wayne #babygirl bruce wayne #gotham #thomas wayne #martha wayne

[idksmtms]

Golden Globes - Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary: Written from the perspective of press and viewers of the golden globes; how cute are Cillian Murphy and his girlfriend Y/n L/n?! From the red carpet to his acceptance speech, look at what a mesmerising couple these two make!

Word count: 2,250

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, very slight profanity, mostly just fluff (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

AN: Inspired by Yvonne and Cillian actually being the cutest couple ever at the Golden Globes. Also, if you catch the sneaky Succession reference: mwah! Edit: Just watched an interview clip where he says everyone calls him Cill as his nickname and I will be gratuitously using that from now on.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :) 

Part 1: Red Carpet 

“And next to arrive onto the red carpet is Cillian Murphy! He’s a favourite to win the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Drama Motion Picture, and I mean, rightly so, he killed it in Oppenheimer!” 

“Right?! And I have to say, whoever styled him tonight knew what they were doing, because mmm chef’s kiss right there.” 

“For real, but knowing him he probably grabbed an old suit out of his closet and put it on, hahahah.” 

“I bet he wishes, but Y/n would never let him, and there she is! Oh look how stunning she looks! For all our viewers who are unaware, that’s Y/n L/n, Cillian Murphy’s girlfriend and the other half of our favourite couple!” 

“Is that a vintage Schiaparelli?! Um, someone did not come to play. Aw, look how cute they are, he refuses to let go of her hand. I want a man like that.” 

“The way he smiles at her?! You can really tell they love each other, and awwww she’s blushing!!! You guyssssss, I can’t handle this.” 

“Hahahah, she’s forcing him to go out and strut his stuff, how sweet. That’s the definition of a supportive partner right there, always wanting you to have your moment to shine.” 

“Honestly, and like, I know we’re supposed to be watching Cillian but guys look how SHE watches him. That’s true love right there, and no one can convince me otherwise.” 

“D’you remember that interview where he talked about the little gifts she gets him at the end of each of his movies?” 

“Oh my god yeah, that was adorable, she makes him something small to remember each of his movies, like she knits or crochets or crafts something for him right?” 

“Yeah, exactly, well apparently, since this was his sixth movie with Nolan, she made the little tokens for all the producers and like the lead team. I was in TEARS when I heard, because who is that sweet? Like who is THAT sweet to their partner’s whole team?” 

“I didn’t know that, oh my god, I love her even more. No wonder Cillian loves her, I get it, I fully support it.” 

“Ok, seems like Cillian’s done getting his pictures taken and- aw! He’s looking for her! Cillian, bestie, she’s right there, ok ok ok, they found each other. Look at that hug!” 

“A man who adjusts the train of your dress like that to help you walk easier??? That is a man worth having, and Cillian Murphy is clearly the best man. Gosh look at the way she leans into him when they walk, and he’s just rubbing her back all soft and sweet, aaaaa I think I’m gonna melt.” 

“Oo! Ok, they’re going for interviews and the next person to come up is…” 

Part 1.2: Interview 

“Hi Cillian! How are you feeling tonight?” 

“I’m doing well thank you, a little nervous I guess, how are you?” 

“I’m great! Having a lot of fun here at the Golden Globes! How did you enjoy the red carpet? Any chance to meet others yet?” 

“Yeah, it’s grand, very… opulent, heh, and no! Unfortunately I haven’t had a chance to properly greet anyone yet, but I’m sure when we get inside I’ll have plenty of time for that.” 

“Alright, let’s talk about your movie for a bit, how does it feel to see all the recognition it’s getting?” 

“It feels deserved, you know? Everyone worked so hard on that film and put in a hundred and ten percent and it feels like people have really noticed it and seen not only the talent but the effort the team put in.” 

“Were you expecting such resounding fame for the movie?” 

“I mean, I definitely knew at least some people would watch it because Chris made it, hahaha, and people have recognised how amazing he is, but I guess you never really know how popular a movie is going to be until it comes out. But it’s truly amazing to see how it resonated with audiences.” 

“You’ve spoken in past interviews about the importance of a strong and accepting support system for people in this line of work, how did such an intense movie fit into your life?” 

“I mean, I treated it like I treat all my roles - it is a job at the end of the day - but it’s always great to have my family willing to put up with odd schedules and having to be away from home for long periods of time. My girlfriend, heh, she’s actually really great with this stuff. She always makes sure to call me while I’m away, she comes to visit as often as she can, and she just has this way of making anywhere feel like home, you know? Regardless of where I am, or what I’m doing, I can count on her, and that’s probably the best part of my life. It’s a really bad habit of hers but she stays up late with me if I have an oddly timed call or interview or whatever, just to be there with me.” 

“Aw, that’s so sweet! It’s amazing the way you talk about her, she sounds like a great person!” 

“She really really is. I mean, there’s some people out there who are just blessed with the biggest hearts and even just their presence can make life better, you know? And that’s her. I don’t know where I would be without her in my life to be honest with you.” 

“Oh how cute! Well, we’ll let you go, tell your girlfriend how much we love her, and good luck with your award tonight!” 

“Thank you.” 

Part 2: The Main Event 

“And the Golden Globe goes to… Cillian Murphy!” You let out a rather unholy shriek that you were sure would be caught on camera and posted all over, but you were too excited to care. You jumped up, grabbing Cillian by his shoulders and pressing your lips to his mouth and face, over and over until there were lipstick smudges across his nose. 

“You did it Cill! You did it,” you whispered, rubbing at his face to try and wipe away the lipstick. He had the lightest red splotches across his nose and cheek but they mixed into the flush on his skin so you let him be after a moment. Your face hurt from smiling, your whole body buzzing because finally, finally, he had gotten the recognition he had long deserved. 

“Oh boy, my first question, do I have lipstick all over my nose? Ah, I’m just gonna leave it. Um, I-I knew the first time that I walked on Chris Nolan’s set that it was different. I could tell by the level of rigour, the level of focus, the level of dedication, the complete lack of any seating options for actors, heheh, that it was-that I was in the hands of a visionary director and master. I wanna thank Chris, and Emma, for having the faith in me for-for twenty years, and six feckin pictures! So, thanks so much. Um, one of the most beautiful and vulnerable things about being an actor is that you can’t do it on your own, really, and we had the most incredible ensemble cast in this movie, it was magic, and some of them are here today. Emily Blunt, Robert Downey Jr, Matt Damon, Gary Oldman, thank you for carrying me and holding me through this movie. Um, thank you to- thank you! Uh, thank you to Dara Langley, and everyone at Universal for believing in this movie from the very beginning. Uh, oh! To all my fellow nominees - if you’re Irish or not - you’re all legends, stunning work guys, I salute you. Um, to all my reps, all my team, uh thank you so much you’re the best. To my girlfriend, you are the light of my life, the love I couldn’t live without, thank you for always being there. To my family, I’m the luckiest man, I love you, thanks so much guys!” 

Part 3: Top Ten 

“Hello everyone and welcome back to the ATN News youtube channel! Today we are looking at our top ten favourite Cillian Murphy moments from the Golden Globes and spoiler alert: they all have something to do with his girlfriend because, let’s face it guys, they’re our favourite unproblematic power couple! Just a reminder that we did similar videos for some other celebrities so you can check them out on our channel but let’s get started! 

Number 1: When they were walking into the hall and he held her purse for her! This is a personal favourite because I love someone who notices the little things, and the fact that he just kinda slipped it from her hands?? Cuteness overload. 

Number 2: This one is my personal favourite. During the break, the camera was just kinda moseying around and it caught them whispering to each other and just laughing. Look at how lovey dovey they are, leaning against each other, just whispering in each other’s ears. I really wanna know what they’re saying because I’m sure they are the most hilarious people on earth, but it’s also so intimate that I don’t wanna disturb them, you know? And she’s holding his hand in her lap aaaa! I have to move on otherwise I’m just gonna sit here and watch this all day. 

Number 3: Ok, at number three we have the couple’s red carpet glam moment! After getting some solo pictures taken, Cillian had Y/n walk the carpet with him and they slayed. I mean they slayyyyyed. Their outfits were amazing, their chemistry was amazing, their poses were amazing just- amazing. The fact that she did the little heel kick in one of the pictures?? Iconic. Cillian, Y/n, if you guys are looking for recommendations I would frame the picture where Y/n’s kissing the air just before Cillian’s cheek, it’s funny and it’s cute. 

Number 4: This is a moment from an interview he gave where they asked him about life with Y/n, take a listen. 

“You know she’s just the best. We both have our own strengths at home and I think they fit together so well and it just works perfectly. Like, I’m terrible at D.I.Y. Just absolutely hopeless, and good or not, she’s tenacious. If she starts a project for the house, no matter how hard, she will learn what to do and she will finish it. It’s inspiring honestly. Just every little thing she does inspires me.” 

Number 5: Halfway through and this might also be my personal favourite (agh I can’t choose!). When Y/n fed Cillian something from her plate?? Guys, when I saw that, I kid you not I almost melted. She just gently taps his shoulder, lifts her fork to his mouth, and feeds him. Was he too nervous to eat?? Did she notice and make sure he ate something?? Or is that just something they do? Like if you walked into their house at a random dinner time she might just randomly feed him something?? Either way, it was cute and I bet they make everyone sick with their love and I’m here for it. 

Number 6: Another simple one, but when he sat back with his arm over her chair? He just kinda leaned to the side and put his arm on the back of her chair and she just kinda shifted closer into his side- and they didn’t even stop their conversations with other people! They just did it! Being that intune with someone is just nghdhm. I have no words. 

Number 7: Alright, so some fan pics came out after the event of the couple leaving the venue, and look at this, he’s carrying her shoes for her!!! The pictures are a little grainy, but you can clearly see him holding the heels that she was wearing during the event while they walk to the car. She’s even carrying his award for him, what a bunch of cutiepies!

Number 8:  Another one from the fan pics - and another personal favourite (leave me alone) - is those cuties dancing on the street! I think it’s near their house and the pictures capture him twirling her, and they’re both laughing so much and then they’re hugging and Cillian’s just swaying her (all while holding that Golden Globe mind you) and they just look so happy and in love. Brb, I need something to tackle this overdose of cute. 

Number 9: Our second last moment is when Y/n kissed Cillian right before he went up to accept his award! Just, the scream, the kiss, the lipstick on his face, all of it is so perfect. And the fact that he left it on his face while giving his speech? Our king, have no shame, proudly show her love! 

Number 10: And of course, the final favourite has to be Cillian’s speech. He was funny, he was gracious, and honestly? It was perfect. If my boyfriend called me the light of his life in a room full of famous people, on a live broadcast that like millions of people are watching, I would probably just start proposing to him at that moment. Like he really said “the love I couldn’t live without” can you imagine that kind of devotion?! I want that. 

Anyway! Thanks for watching our top ten Cillian Murphy moments. Don’t forget to like and subscribe!” 

AN: Yes, I did transcribe his whole acceptance speech. No further questions.

#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillianmurphy #cillian #cillian fic #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer #christopher nolan

[bucksangel]

don't worry, darling

pairing: avenger!bucky x civilian!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: even though bucky is mostly healed, that doesn’t mean his nightmares go away. and a particular grueling mission brings back memories he’d rather forget. 

warnings: angsttttt, hella fluff at the end though, hurt/comfort, talk of bucky’s trauma and abuse, brief mentions of murder of a hydra agent (he deserves it), nightmares, reader is here to love and comfort bucky, also civil war and everything after didn’t happen and they all live at the tower and everything is fine bc i said so

a/n: even though this does not contain smut, my blog is 18+ so minors dni. also i wanted to write something short and sweet to get my creative juices flowing and yet, as always, i managed to go overboard

tip jar | masterlist

It started with a whimper, a small one. Barely detectable if you weren’t already awake and snuggled against Bucky’s body. He’s lying on his side facing you with you mirroring his position, arms wrapped around each other and your head tucked into his chest. You’ve been having a hard time sleeping for the last week and a half due to Bucky being gone on a mission that didn’t allow him to contact you at all. Your restless nights were mostly due to worrying over your boyfriend’s safety, something you always do whenever he leaves. It was worse this time around, though.

It was a day before he was supposed to leave, and you knew you weren’t supposed to listen in on other people’s private conversations, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You’d come home early from work one day to find Steve and Bucky in your shared home office, stopping outside the door and getting ready to knock when you overheard something about an upcoming mission. It seemed pretty important so you decided not to interrupt them, though you couldn’t force yourself to walk away.

You’re never allowed to know anything about what Bucky’s missions entail, and some part of you wanted to listen in on their conversation to hopefully ease any worries about what might be happening to him since you’ll have a general idea of where they’re going and what they’re doing. 

According to Steve, although it was going to be a four-day mission, it was supposed to be relatively simple. Or, it would’ve been simple if it weren’t for the fact that the building they were being sent to scout was an old Hydra facility somewhere in Russia. The same Hydra facility where Bucky was held captive.

Upon hearing this piece of information you wanted to barge into the room and tell Steve off for letting Bucky be a part of this mission. It’s been nearly five years since he escaped and Bucky has mostly readjusted, has recovered from his trauma as much as one can after being tortured for decades. And you’ll be damned if anything jeopardizes that progress.

But you’d also overheard Bucky agreeing with the plans, helping Steve strategize, and going over all the information that needed to be obtained. And it wasn’t your place to tell Bucky what he could and couldn’t do. As much as you wanted to demand that he not go, he was his own person. And if he thought he could handle this mission then you’d have to find a way to support him.

The four-day mission turned into eight and by the sixth day with still no contact, you’d marched into the tower and demanded Fury call you with any and all updates he received. He said he would in a tone that made you believe he wouldn’t give you every detail, but it did help reassure you that if anything happened to Bucky then you wouldn’t be kept totally in the dark. It was nerve-wracking in the worst way, obsessively thinking over what Bucky could be going through - physically and mentally.

But on the eighth day, Fury had called you on your lunch break at work to tell you that Bucky was on his way back to the Tower and would probably be back at your apartment by early evening after the briefing and check-up in the medical wing.

All of your nerves and anxieties that built up over the last week were immediately replaced with relief flooding your body, your heart finally unclenching at knowing that Bucky would be back in a few short hours. One good thing about your job is that you don’t technically need to be in the office every day. As long as you get your work done you’re pretty much given free rein to leave whenever you want, and you’d finished your stack of paperwork maybe fifteen minutes before the phone call.

You gathered up your things quickly and stopped by your boss's office to wish her a good weekend, then made your way to your car to head home. Your heartbeat was increasing ever so slightly the closer you got to your apartment, and you had to remind yourself to focus on driving instead of daydreaming of being back in Bucky’s arms.

When you did finally get home, you made quick work of cleaning the entire apartment; changing your bed sheets, doing laundry, then pulling out food from the fridge to make dinner. You’d actually just gotten the chicken out of the oven when the front door opened, and your excitement at finally seeing your boyfriend again forced you to run out of the kitchen and down the hall. But you stopped a good six feet from the door, standing still at seeing Bucky’s bruised face and scabbed knuckles.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, finally noticing the spacey look in his eyes, the way they seemed to be glazed over.

Bucky smiled at you, though it was more of a grimace, and you could tell it was mostly forced but he still wanted to acknowledge you. He approached you slowly, and you stood still so you would not startle him - he just seemed so on edge. He stopped not even a foot away from you, had stared down at you with a look in his eyes you hoped you would never see again - it was such an empty gaze, almost emotionless. There was no life in his eyes. It didn’t feel like the dead gaze was directed at you specifically, it was more like Bucky just couldn’t muster up any emotion at all.

That’s when you knew. Something went wrong.

Slowly, he brought up his right hand and placed it on the back of your head, tilting it up so he could really look at you, letting his gaze linger on your lips. Instead of kissing them, he leans forward to press a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his left arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. He didn’t speak as he slowly tucked you into his body, and you didn’t dare break the silence either, you simply wrapped your arms around his body as well, squeezing him tightly to let him know that you were there. You were there for him - physically, mentally, and emotionally, and you needed him to know that.

After maybe five minutes of no one speaking, of simply standing in the front hallway embracing each other, you decided to finally say something.

“I made dinner,” You whispered, running one of your hands up and down Bucky’s back. You pulled your head off of his chest but didn’t loosen your hold. “Chicken and mashed potatoes. I even made apple pie.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched again, and his attempted smile felt a little more genuine this time. His glassy eyes were filled with tears now, and he seemed oh so close to crying. You’d never seen him like this before, he was always happy, and smiling, even on days when he wouldn’t say it but you knew he still resented himself for his time as the soldier he would indulge in his hobbies to help him cope. But you’ve never seen him shut down before, and this is what this felt like.

You weren’t too sure how to help him, how to comfort him. But you had an inkling he might need some time to himself.

“How about you go shower and I can put the food away for later,” You said with a soft smile, speaking up again before Bucky had the chance to feel guilty, “I ate a couple of hours ago, I’m fine baby. Go shower.”

You lifted up on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting him squeeze you to his chest one more time before he released you, slumping off down the hall to the bathroom.

That was two days ago, and Bucky hasn’t spoken more than a few words at a time since. Now, it’s not like he’s avoiding you, he’s actually a little more clingy than he normally is. You can tell he wants to say something, to tell you what had happened, he just doesn’t know how. He hasn’t told you everything about what happened to him during his time as the soldier, but you know enough and don’t push him to say anything he doesn’t want to.

At night, Bucky will go out onto the small terrace outside of your apartment and stare up at the stars for hours. You don’t sit with him for all of it, just for about one hour - cuddled close to his body and talking softly and mindlessly about anything you can think of, anything that might help Bucky open up. Then, around nine or ten, you’ll give him a lingering kiss on his cheek, one on his temple, and one final kiss on his lips before going to bed, letting Bucky be alone with himself and his thoughts.

Tonight, though, Bucky’s decided to climb into bed with you soon after dinner. You both showered together, washing each other’s bodies and sharing a few lingering kisses under the spray of the shower head. You didn’t go any further, but you did make sure to spend extra time massaging his shoulders and back, placing kisses everywhere you could reach.

It’s one in the morning now, and you hear another whimper. Bucky shifts beside you, tightening his hold on you ever so slightly. Another whine. 

“Bucky?” You whisper, careful to not disturb the silence too much.

He responds with a mumbled ‘please’. Then, ‘no’.

“Buck? Baby?” You say a little louder, shifting in his hold but not able to move much due to his arms being wound around your body.

He shudders, pulling you further into him as his breathing picks up. He’s having a nightmare. Now, despite him being mostly healed, he still does have nightmares. They’ve lessened over the years, but they never truly go away.

When he’s in this mindset, you’re careful not to move too much and startle him awake. So, you simply shimmy your arm from under one of his so you can push on his chest and gently ease him onto his back. It takes a little more force than you’d like, but you’re eventually able to lay him flat on his back and untangle your body from his.

“Baby?” You whisper a little louder, placing your hand on the side of his face and rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. “Bucky.”

He groans; louder, desperate. He’s in pain. You run your hand down his face, down his neck, then land on his chest, right above his heart. It’s increased rapidly, and you can see beads of sweat coat his forehead.

“Bucky.” Your voice is pleading, and you push on his chest a little, now hoping to startle him awake before it gets worse. You don’t want to keep him in this nightmare, so you shake him again.

“Bu-” You’re stopped short by him gasping, his eyes shooting open and his body lifting off the bed slightly as he wakes up. Relief fills your body, and you sigh gratefully. You hate when he’s in pain, whether physical or mental, but you hate not being able to do anything about it even more.

Bucky doesn’t move right away, he squeezes his eyes closed and clenches his fists momentarily. Then, when you place your hand on his cheek, his whole body goes limp, relaxing into the sheets under your touch.

“Baby,” He whispers hoarsely. “I…” He chokes back a sob, and you’re quick to adjust yourselves so you’re laying on your back and he’s laying almost entirely on top of you with his head on your chest right above your heart. He starts crying then, really crying. His arms wrap themselves around your midsection, and you wrap yours around his body as well, cradling him close to you.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay, you’re okay,” You mumble into his ear, pressing kisses anywhere you can reach. You continue cooing at him, whispering reassurances and declarations of love until his cries taper off into small whimpers and sniffles. You’re really worried now. Yeah, Bucky isn’t shy about expressing his emotions, and you’ve held him after nightmares and through the aftermath of difficult missions when he comes home disheartened. But he’s never been so vulnerable, and you want nothing more than to hold him close and protect him from everything bad in the world.

Silence envelops the both of you for a while. You want to allow Bucky to speak when he’s ready. And he does so after a couple of minutes.

“There was an agent; Alix, I think. I - I don’t remember his last name, but…” Bucky pauses, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his forehead. “For the last five or so years of me being… him, Alix was there. He’d… Any time I failed a mission, he’d be there. Out of all the Hydra agents that I’ve ever come in contact with… his punishments were the worst.”  He pauses again, sniffling softly and nuzzling his face into your chest.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his hair so you can run your fingers through his locks. Bucky shakes his head softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“He was there. When Steve, Natasha, and I went to the facility last week, Alix was there. And he… I don’t know. I saw him and I just went blank, my mind shut off. I know I promised I wouldn’t kill anymore, I know. I just… He just hurt me so fucking much.”

Bucky starts crying again, and you have to force yourself not to cry as well. You want to be here to support him, not break down as well because then he’ll feel guilty. He always says you’re one of the most important people in his life - Steve obviously being another one - and that seeing you cry makes him want to go feral on whoever or whatever made you sad.

“I had to,” he says, muffled by his face tucking into your neck. “I just. I couldn’t not. I thought I was ready, I thought I could go there and be okay. But I wasn’t. I… He broke me.” Bucky trails off, sighing heavily before he goes quiet again, giving you time to process this information.

“Baby,” You say, prompting Bucky to hum in acknowledgment. “Can you look at me, please?”

You know it takes a lot of effort, but he does. Bucky lifts his head from your neck, looking into your eyes with overwhelming sorrow. Bending your head, you place a quick kiss on his lips.

“This might sound odd, but I’m proud of you. You thought you were healed enough to do it, you went through the planning and probably had to hype yourself up a lot to even agree to the mission. And that’s immense progress. The fact that you even felt ready, even if you ultimately weren’t, you pushed through it and finished the mission. And that’s something to be celebrated. Sometimes recovery can be set back by certain events, but that doesn’t mean that everything else you’ve accomplished is set back as well. You tried, and I’m proud of you.”

With that said, you give Bucky another kiss, lingering a little longer this time before pulling back and holding his gaze.

“And I know you promised to not kill anyone, but I don’t blame you in this situation. I don’t know what this says about me, but even though I don’t know exactly how you killed him, and I don’t think I want to honestly, I do know he deserved far worse than what you gave him. He’s just lucky I wasn’t there because I genuinely don’t know what I would have done if I saw him.”

Bucky’s mouth forms into the smallest of smiles, and you can’t help but want to burn the world to the ground if it means he was protected from the harm it brought him.

“I know you’re the man, and that, stereotypically, men are supposed to be the protector, the provider, but you also deserve to be protected, to have everything you could ever want. And I want to give that to you. I know you are your own person and you do a damn well job of taking care of yourself, but I also want to take care of you. I want to protect you from everything bad, everything that’s ever harmed you, and everything that could potentially harm you in the future.”

You place a kiss on his forehead, squeezing the arm that’s around his upper back to hug him tighter to you.

“You’re the love of my life, baby. Now and forever.”

Bucky shudders slightly, leaning up to kiss your jaw, then one to your cheek, one on the corner of your mouth, and one final kiss to your lips. Your hand continues to run through his hair, tugging at it slightly, causing your boyfriend to sigh in contentment and tighten his hold on you as well. You’re locked in the embrace for a long moment, his lips gliding over yours as the kiss remains relatively chaste. But then, he pulls away.

“Darling,” He says, and for the first time in two days, he finally looks like he’s getting back to his old self. “I - I don’t think I’m ready to talk about everything that happened during the mission right now, I kind of just want to hear you talk so I can get my mind off of it for a little if that’s okay?” He looks a bit nervous asking for that, but you’re quick to nod, offering him a smile of your own. Bucky smiles a tad bit wider and removes one of his arms from around your body so he can slowly reach up and take hold of your hand that’s still running through his hair. Stubble tickles your palm as Bucky presses his lips there, then turns his gaze up to look into your eyes.

“I can’t even describe how much I love you. It scares me, sometimes, the things I would do for you. I need you to know that I will do everything I can to make you as happy and safe as you make me. You’re just… you’re incredible. And I can’t thank you enough for how much you’ve helped me over the past two years that we’ve been together, even the entire year before we started dating when we were just friends.”

His eyes start watering for a whole other reason now. Bucky looks so damn in love that you’d think it hurt, and you would know because that’s exactly how you feel about him.

“I - I know we haven’t talked about it, and I don’t even have a ring, but I can’t ever imagine loving anyone as much as I love you. I’m devoted to you, now and forever. I don’t know how you feel, but if you’re ever willing to…” He pauses, and you feel your heartbeat increase rapidly, a sudden happiness flooding your body.

“If I were to one day ask you to marry me, would you say yes?”

You’ve never nodded faster in your life, nor have you ever said ‘yes’ so quickly to anything Bucky has asked.

The large sigh of relief your boyfriend lets out lets you know he’s probably been thinking about this for a while, and you would swear your heart is about to burst from how much you love this man as you hold him close to your chest and place absentminded kisses on his forehead, cheeks, lips, the top of his head.

Everything stays silent for a few minutes, letting the conversation taper off. That is, until Bucky puts his head back on your shoulder, lacing his fingers with yours and bringing your hands up to kiss your knuckles.

“Can you talk to me?”

Humming in agreement, you run your hand that’s still on his back up and down in a soothing motion.

“Do you want to hear about how Sam almost broke his arm last week?”

#let me know what y'all think!! #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #bucky barns #james barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x reader #my writing #my stuff

[charlotteharlatan]

Do you ever think about what would have happened if Mary Hodges (formerly Mary Loquacious) hadn’t interrupted Crowley and Aziraphale’s “intimate moment”?

Because I do. I think about it a lot.

First off, the way that this shot is set up is perfect. Mary - Mary who had a key role in the whole “Antichrist shuffle” fiasco, and who is a walking reminder of the approaching apocalypse that will separate Aziraphale and Crowley - is literally coming between them. The show is full of these beautifully simple, yet easy-to-miss moments that only last a few frames.

Now, on its surface, this part of the scene mostly plays as humorous because Crowley and Aziraphale are sexless-by-default, non-human entities who just happen to come across to most humans as a very aesthetic queer couple. So naturally, Mary makes the same assumption as every other human that so much as glances in their direction, and isn’t that a laugh?

Except that…she’s not actually wrong about it being an intimate moment. Not just in the physical sense, although I think this is the closest we see them physically get in the whole first season (not counting being literally inside each other’s corporations, I suppose).

But it’s intimate in the emotional sense too, because Crowley is worried and stressed about having lost the Antichrist, and now on top of everything else he’s got Aziraphale calling him “nice” and poking at some very old wounds (if he’s so “nice” then why did he Fall?). And Crowley is also probably *frightened* - they’re inside a former Satanic convent that kept regular contact with not just Crowley himself, but also Hastur, and probably other demons too. For all Crowley knows, someone from his side could still be lurking about; they could overhear and get them both in big trouble.

And as if all that weren’t enough, I don’t think I’m imagining a healthy dose of frustration with Aziraphale in the mix either. Just a few minutes prior, the angel essentially tempted Crowley into miracling the paint stain out of his coat, and then broke their rules by saying “thank you” for it. Aziraphale has spent at least the last few centuries sending him some very mixed signals and we can see that Crowley is done with them dancing around each other. That game was more or less fine before, they had time, all the time in the world. But now, in just a few days, all the time in the world will be ENDING. And yet here’s Aziraphale, playing the same game as always, acting like nothing between them has changed, even though they both know better.

So yeah, it all comes to a head in that moment, and Crowley (sort of understandably) loses it a bit. He won’t actually hurt Aziraphale and they both know that, but he has to get across to the angel SOMEHOW that he’s experiencing some Big Feelings. And he doesn’t have a whole lot of options as to how to do that. He’s too worked up to communicate effectively. So he goes with the wall slam. This causes an emotionally charged situation which we’re primed to think will have an emotional payoff - the camera pulls in close, a dramatic transition, drawing us in to the tension of the moment right along with Crowley and Aziraphale.

And then there’s Aziraphale, who…doesn’t defend himself at all. Aziraphale, who is kind but far from defenseless, who used to guard the gate of Eden with a flaming sword, who was supposed to fight in a platoon of angels in the final battle. He’s no pushover, and yet he lets himself get literally pushed over. It doesn’t even seem to occur to him to stop Crowley, not even as he’s wrinkling his precious coat.

And maybe this is just my read of this scene, but Aziraphale’s reaction to Crowley coming into his personal space is interesting in and of itself. He doesn’t act as if this is the first instance of Crowley being that close to him - and it is CLOSE. Their lips are centimeters apart. Their noses are touching.

And one might well say that all of it happens so fast that Aziraphale is caught off guard and freezes up, but as so many have already pointed out about this scene, just after Mary interrupts he looks…blatantly longing, and then more than a bit put out.

And after Crowley lets him go, he casually fixes his clothes and goes straight back to bickering. Which may be partially a defense mechanism, because they don’t have time to talk about what just happened, there clearly won’t be any emotional resolution right now. But really, wouldn’t “you go too fast for me” Aziraphale be more rattled if that were truly the first time they had crossed that physical boundary and shared space like this? He looks affected, certainly, but quickly shakes it off.

And, to take it one step further: Aziraphale knows Crowley. He knows what words are likely to set him off. He has an established pattern of having Crowley do things for him, based on Aziraphale’s own prompting (see also: wordlessly asking Crowley to help Hamlet become a hit). Aziraphale does as much tempting to get Crowley to do “nice” things as Crowley does to get him to do “naughty” things. All of which is to say, Aziraphale may have actually been baiting Crowley here, but the bait is just a little too effective, and Aziraphale isn’t fully prepared for the intensity of the response he gets. But there’s a strong case to be made that by calling the demon “nice,” he’s looking to get a specific reaction out of Crowley. Again, not the healthiest form of communication, but it’s what they have in this context, because honesty would be too dangerous.

Which brings me back to my point: it IS an intimate moment, in more ways than Mary could have possibly realized, and what if she hadn’t walked in on them? How would Crowley have finished his sentence that got cut off, and how would Aziraphale have responded to it, to Crowley’s outburst of emotion, or to their proximity?

Maybe he would have gently and politely pushed Crowley away - but to me, something about his expression and body language says he wouldn’t have. Because Aziraphale is tired of dancing around this too, actually, and in the heat of the moment, he may just have closed the distance. Especially if they’ve had “intimate moments” before this one.

And between you and me, I think they did, and I think it was after Crowley saved Aziraphale and his books during the Blitz. It’s a solid explanation for the increased tension between them in the holy water scene.

Anyway. This meta has been sitting in my drafts since before the first trailer came out, S2 is only nine days away, and I’m clearly very normal about all of this.

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #go meta #meta #analysis #scene analysis

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology - previous

You haven’t been inside a bar this crowded since you graduated from university. 

You settle in the corner, avoiding nearly everyone’s eyes, hands cupped around a chipped glass full to the brim with beer. 

You weren’t expecting an island on the brink of a full winter assault to be so… lively.

The room is a party. A party full of people who know one another well enough to call them by first name. There can’t be more than one hundred people living in this town year-round, and you think they might all be inside this dimly light pub, crowded around the waxed cedar bar, laughing and smiling with like they’ve not seen each other in eons. Like they’re long lost, disjointed members of the same family.

Well, all most all of them. 

You don’t see the Ranger. The Caribbean blue eyes, brusque moustache and beard, low brim black beanie, all are missing.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you. 

He didn’t seem the socializing type.

Still…

You hadn’t expected such a… clipped welcome. 

And you surely hadn’t expected your ferry buddy, the spunky six-year-old girl who talked to you for most of the ride, to be his daughter.

Somehow, that made his cold, distant nature even worse. 

Here’s a man capable of warmth; his smile said, when he scooped his daughter into his arms. Here’s someone you can trust. Someone who is friendly, genuine.

Just not towards you. He was stiff, uncomfortable, and even though the drive to town was fairly short, he barely spoke to you, answering your questions with the shortest syllables possible. 

He was every bit the Ranger you had heard so little about. Every bit the man turned myth.

And handsome. Rugged.

Older.

Your new friend in the backseat was better company than the man you’d be working with for better part of a year, the Ranger who you’re afraid you can’t do it without. Can’t navigate the island or the tides without him, can’t do half the work you needed to do without a partner. The thing his role is supposed to be, when needed. 

Worse was, the provided housing is a duplex, and he’s on the other side, a fact he gritted through his teeth this afternoon when he dropped you off, gesturing to the right side of the house with a callous wave. His front door was as green as the forest. 

The other was black. 

Your boss did warn you. 

She was tactful, cautious. The island itself carries a reputation; one some may be intimated by, but not you. 

Who are you to fear stewards of the land? They are more akin to you than others, after all.

John though, she lamented with a mournful expression, John was different. 

“John is less than pleased about this placement but assures me it won’t be an issue.”

“Less than pleased?” 

“He’s… protective, but he’ll warm up to you in time, I’m sure. A few days, and he’ll be showing you the ropes. Don’t worry.” 

You keep your nose in your beer. When you’re finished, the next one comes immediately, without prompting, and the bartender swoops low, voice heavy in your ear. 

“On the house.” He winks, and the woman to your left slides closer, curiosity wet on her lips between her drink and the question you know is coming. 

“You’re the scientist?” 

“No, the marine biologist. Cetologist, to be specific.” You cut to the quick and she stares at you, rightfully so. You have the good grace to grimace. “Er, sorry. I’m uh… not great with people.”

“That’s alright. Neither are we, really.” She lifts her drink with a cheers, gesturing to the room, and knocks it back. “So, what’s a cetologist?” 

“I study whales.” She nods knowingly.

“Ah. You’re here for the pod.” 

“Well, I’m interested in the humpbacks too, but yes. I’m mostly here to study the residents.” You were only here to study the pod, but you never said no to a whale, no matter notoriety, or size. You might be getting paid to study the residents, but you were going to soak up every second you could on this island. It’s wilderness was protected and almost pristine, an untamed landscape of mountain and sea too great of a call for you to resist.

The woman stares at you, intrigued, thin veil of amusement dancing in her eyes. “We’re happy to have you. You respect us, we’ll respect you.” The bartender pauses, shining a glass with a hole pocked rag, and glares at her. “Most of us will. Can’t say how John’ll take to ya.” 

“Oh, I work on my own mostly.” You lie, giving her a fake smile that feels awful, and she humphs. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” she flounders, and you provide your name, letting it settle in the air, others turning to give you a questioning look, like they’ve been waiting for it too, and she grins, repeating it with a handshake. “Skip the shortcuts through the forest at night.” She adds over her shoulder, hopping off the stool and wading into the crowd without another word, leaving you confused. 

Skip the… skip the what? 

“Ignore her.” The bartender hastily reassures you, but the emotion doesn’t touch his eyes, lingering gazes in the room enough to have you swallowing the rest of your beer in haste and beelining out the door. 

The walk to your rental is short, up the street and take a left, then another, until you reach the only house at the top of the hill, a duplex with a sweeping, wide planked front porch. 

The top step creaks beneath your weight. An ember glows in the dark. 

“Jesus chr-“ Your heart slams against your ribs, pulse thundering between your ears.

He’s silent. The cigar illuminates his face, a flicker of brilliant blue, crystal clear and piercing, pinned onto you like a laser. 

“It’s late.” It’s the admonishment of a father, and indignant rage flourishes down your spine. 

“I’m an adult, thanks.” He’s unmoved by your spite. Settled like the cedars that grow at the heart of this place, tall enough to blot out the sun, wide enough to build houses, boats. 

He pulls. The orange cinder burns red, honeyed smoke and mahogany sweetening the air. 

The smoking is attractive. It's intriguing, dangerous, and draws you closer, other foot coming to rest on the top step, tempting fate.

"You shouldn't be out around here late."

"The entire town is down at the bar." You shoot back, still rising in anger, rattling with it. You’re a grown woman, who is this guy to tell you what you can and can’t do?

His jaw flexes, mouth tightening into a straight line, invisible string pulling him taut before he speaks again.

"They live here, know their way around. It's not always safe." The protest builds, words coming quick, rapid-fire, but before you can speak, you lose your voice to a chorus of howls.

Wolves.

#peaches writes #john price #john price x reader #this is mostly just vibes #and whales

[voxswifihotspot]

SELF INDULGENT HEADCANONS (mostly qpr radiostatic)

Vox imagines Al comforting him when he's upset (would never tell ANYONE)

Vox probably wishes he was a girl so Alastor wouldn't hate him as much

He definitely has internalized homophobia and assumes Alastor doesn't like him because Al’s straight and that's why he acts so much nicer with girls, because he likes them.

He overcompensates by acting like he wants Al to fuck him because that would be better than admitting weakness (he just wants a really good hug from him) (and yes he also wants to fuck him for sure but let me have this)

Alastor got scared off by Valentino, especially when Vox started picking up Val’s sex joke traits (Al would probably say some shit like ' i miss the old times we had…before Valentino…” when Vox made the third ‘that's what she said’ joke of the day)

Alastor enjoys Vox’s company but they're both so prideful they'd never admit it unless it still felt like they were winning in something

Alastor gets invited to girl sleepovers, Vox has a restraining order from them

Vox is so afraid of thunderstorms he's like a cat when a vacuum rolls by (electricity=hes at risk of getting shocked because he’s hes a tv head and he didn't used to be waterproof either so it's just kind of stuck with him)

Alastor is a mama’s boy, Vox has mommy issues. Full stop.

Vox changes the wifi password CONSTANTLY whenever he gets mad at any one of the vees and it pisses everyone off so much

Alastor is absolutely sex repulsed and it disturbs him whenever Vox makes sexual comments about him (Vox has no idea how to express actual affection and he’s gotten used to Valentino’s situationship, which enables him to not have to say anything)

Vox secretly is a sucker for Alastor’s old-fashioned gentleman shit

Vox and Alastor are kind of good cop bad cop but you literally can’t tell which is which because they switch off every time you talk to them

Vox has a caffeine addiction and Alastor literally never has caffeine (claims it makes it hard to sleep despite the fact that nobody has seen him sleep anyway)

Back before the picture Vox has of Alastor was taken, Vox would constantly complain about how Alastor never was on camera and Alastor thought it was just a really stupid bit until Vox started drunk crying about it (Alastor grudgingly allowed the picture to be taken after that)

If Vox ignored Alastor at any point, Alastor would immediately start trying to subtly get his attention, but if Vox ever pointed it out he would get annoyed and say he wasn’t

Vox talks shit about someone once and Alastor immediately starts insulting everything about that person with a sort of pent up rage as Vox stares in horror

Alastor talks shit about someone and it’s really passive aggressive and then Vox just chimes in with “they should kill themselves” (Alastor tries extremely hard not to laugh but it always catches him off guard)

Vox never initiates physical touch but he loves it so whenever Alastor touches him it’s like a treat

Alastor knows like everything about Vox but he hates when he’s called out for it and pretends that he knows nothing

Vox owns a smart fridge just to piss Alastor off and it made him upset when Alastor left because it's useless and he wasted money on it

Alastor loves spicy food, Vox cannot handle it

Vox actually enjoys podcasts but will never say he enjoys radio even though it’s essentially the exact same

Vox is probably a misogynist and Alastor a misandrist (they balance each other out)

Alastor cares for Vox but thinks Vox is too immature and sexual and everything Vox pretends to be around Alastor. They’re constantly caught in a loop of Alastor being too prideful to admit any affection and Vox being too guarded.

Alastor found himself using Vox’s slang when they were closest, he completely picked up his dialect and vice versa.

Alastor compared Vox off his meds to Niffty one time, genuinely didn’t mean it as an insult but Vox didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day

Vox forgets to do anything for himself, Alastor remembers only because of his mother reminding him when he was younger

Vox tells Alastor everything that goes on on the VoxTech cameras, Alastor pretends he doesn’t care then immediately tells Rosie, it's a full gossip chain.

Alastor thought Vox was trying to buy his affection with lavish gifts etc, it was really just his love language

Vox has a spare profile for Alastor on Netflix in case he ever comes back and nobody talks about it

(Flipside, Alastor doodles sharks on everything because he used to draw them for Vox and he misses it)

Alastor and Vox only kiss in the ‘married couple kiss on the cheek’ way, same with Alastor and Rosie

Vox confided in Angel Dust about like…everything by accident one time

Alastor is very practical, Vox thinks he's very practical

Alastor only agrees to things if he thinks it was his idea first. Vox picks up on this and gaslights the hell out of him

Rosie and Vox run their mouths so hard when they’re with each other, if anyone walked in on them, they’d get top quality gossip that would probably get numerous sinners incriminated

Alastor is an asshole and realizing that he cared about Vox genuinely was a pill he never really swallowed

(Vox is also an asshole but he did realize he cares about Alastor and he hates himself for it, so it’s easier to pretend it’s some weird kink of his)

Alastor loves cooking, Vox loves standing around and narrating the cooking in an annoying announcer voice while pretending he's doing something helpful

Alastor feels comfortable around Vox because anything Alastor’s embarrassed about, Vox has already done tenfold

Whenever Vox does something corny, Alastor makes sure everyone else knows that he would never do that

this took way too long

#onewaybroadcast #radiostatic #qpr radiostatic #one sided radiostatic #alastor x vox #vox x alastor #voxal #radiosilence #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #vox hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #the vees #hazbin hotel vvv #vvv #hazbin hotel vees #broadcast husbands #follow 👑 share ❤️ enjoy 🍑 #<—the fucking bot tags r sendinf me

[hijinxinprogress]

The JL finds out Captain Marvels identity and regrets it immensely

JL find out Captain Marvels a child and they start trying to parent him and just being awkward so it’s decided that Captain Marvel will join YJ (Clark started referring to Billy only as ‘son’ and ‘young man’ one time Billy saw an airplane and Clark leaned down and went “That there, son, is called an airplane and it-” “I’ll fucking stab you istg”)

To the public Captain Marvel is just extra supervision for YJ but the hero community knows it’s a way to discretely move Captain Marvel onto a team with people his age and be ‘safer’

But it doesn’t work out the way they want bc Billy’s a chaos gremlin much like YJ so they’re just doing dumb shit in the public eye bc they technically have ‘adult supervision’ (it takes Billy fifteen minutes to convince yj to go against being supervised by green lanterns)

“We’re literally your coworkers??” “I’ve literally never seen you before besides isn’t it illegal for cops to question a minor without their guardian present? 🤨” “Technically, he’s not their coworker bc he’s not in the jl anymore” “Kon” “What? I’m just saying!” “Stfu wait does Marvel even have a guardian??” “He doesn’t”

Anita and Billy are trading magic tips and teaching each other spells they should NOT have access to esp bc they’ve blown up thirteen city blocks and 1/4 of almost every planet they’ve visited with YJ

Cassie and Billy play high stakes games of catch above the earths atmosphere with missiles and shit in their free time and also during missions

Kon and Billy do just plain dumb shit they have no business doing and then playing up the ‘I’m just a baby…and I’m not even really human/I didn’t have a childhood so how would I know that I shouldn’t do that?’ excuse after bankrupting Luthor for the third time this month along with demolishing all of his newly renovated buildings (Which he and Greta repurposed to create low income housing and food pantries)

Cissie invites Marvel to all her Olympic events and he shows up to every single one with an obnoxiously large magical banner

Bart and Billy plan quips, one liners, and trash talk together and everyone hates it bc they only use the good ones on them but villains (along with everyone in their immediate vicinity) are subjected exclusively to shit like “nuh uh” and “make me”

Greta and Billy are taking down shady government operations with zero fucks to give (they had houses built for the people affected but they did also send a very long list of people to the hospital/morgue)

Billy makes Tim a magic skateboard that flies at like Mach 1 with so many magic cameras it’s concerning bc he thinks Tim being unhinged is funny especially it inconveniences or at least stresses out batman

But they’re mostly talking about what lies they’ve told the jl recently so they can plan their lies around each other “I lied to batman yesterday so you gotta back me up” and Tim’s fabricating evidence despite having no other information bc Billy will 100% “Aren’t you a so called ‘ethical’ billionaire? Nonono it’s whatever, I just thought you’d want to look out for the people but-”

And JL tries to lecture Billy about it ‘you should be more mature. I expected better’ and he’s just like ‘why?? I’m baby 🥺 I don’t know any better’ 

And Green Arrow’s so goddamn confused bc ‘Bro?? I’ve watched you do negotiations when Superman’s not available…’ ‘I’m just a little guy’ ‘I’VE WATCHED YOU STOP A WHOLE ASS INVASION IN TEN MINUTES’ ‘little baby man’ ‘But you’re one of the strongest members of the league???’ ‘You do know I couldn’t tie my own shoes like six years ago, right?’ ‘HOW OLD ARE YOU’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’

YJ and Billy just do a bunch of petty shit until JL has had enough and they’re like fine whatever it wasn’t a problem before

#billy batson #billy batson says acab #dc captain marvel #justice league #young just us #young justice #bart allen #kon el #tim drake #anita fite #cassie sandsmark #cissie king jones #Greta Hayes #shazam #dc comics #superman #clark kent

[softtdaisy]

DESCRIPTION I All your relationship with Charles was based on dares. How far can it go before it becomes too much?

PAIRING I Charles Leclerc × fem!reader

WORDS COUNT I 3,7k

A/N I I never thought I would go this far with this story but I'm so happy with the way it turned out. I really hope you will like it as much as I loved writing it 💜

Ever since the day you met, you and Charles had been playing the same silly game. In French, they called cap ou pas cap. The idea was to dare the other person to do something.

It all started during your parents’ wedding.

Being six years old at a wedding was the funniest thing to do. You were watching adults having fun, drinking and dancing together. You were sitting at a table, imagining your own life as an adult. How you would be singing out loud, dancing like tomorrow didn’t exist and finding a cute boy to love if you didn’t have someone already. You imagined all the cool clothes you would be wearing, clearly better than those they were wearing now.

You were so focused on the life you were dreaming for yourself that you didn’t see the cute boy walking to you. “You’re bored too?” he asked shyly.

There weren’t that many children in the room that night. Not many of your parents’ friends brought them. But some couples couldn’t accept to let their children home. Just like the Leclerc.

You knew Lorenzo because your dad had been tutoring him a few weeks ago.

You knew Arthur because his mom came to your place to introduce him to yours.

But you never met Charles. You knew you were the same age, your mothers kept saying you should hang out together one day. You knew he was doing karting which is why you never saw him before. You knew he looked adorable because you’ve seen pictures of him.

You knew that your parents quite hoped you too would fall in love. But you were also big enough to know it was a little too early to think about that.

“Yes, I’m quite done with dancing with adults that try to say something funny. They’re not funny.” You rolled your eyes and made Charles laugh. He sat next to you, taking your answer as a right to stay with you. And it wasn’t like you would ask him to walk away.

“They keep telling me I must be breaking every girls’ heart and I don’t have the courage to tell them I don’t even have a girlfriend.” He sighed and took your drink.

You were acting like little adults in your own world. Drinking like life was too difficult to deal with, when all you had to care about was homework and karting for him. You chatted about some people you knew, mostly your parents’ mutual friends and some of their children like two gossips. And when the photographer asked if he could take a picture of you, you posed like two old friends.

It wasn’t until it was almost midnight that Charles offered to play a game of dares. Taking a picture with Arthur’s comforter. Both sharing a dance with someone the other had picked. Stealing someone’s piece of cake.

It started nicely. You had no idea that this would be the start and the thing that ruled your whole friendship.

You and Charles started to hang out more, or as much as you could since you had to ask your families every time. You had a weekly snack on Wednesday, and you convinced your parents to bring you to as many of Charles’ races.

As the years went on, it became easier to be best friends. You were calling each other all the time, sending stupid texts and would take the bus to each other’s places without your parents being there.

But never did the dares stop. They evolved with you.

As little children, you were still daring each other stupid and innocent things. Telling your parents, a whole crazy story that had actually happened in a movie. Asking Charles to steal his brother’s clothes and wear them for as long as Lorenzo doesn’t notice. Stealing a glass of wine…well this one wasn’t too innocent, and you both developed a hate for wine.

From children you became teenagers. And the dares became more adult. Or you tried to make yourself look more adult. You never dared each other to do dangerous things or anything. Just…stupidest. Like kissing someone you barely admitted having a crush on, missing a karting appointment to go to the beach (to your defense, it was your birthday) or participating in the school theater play. You were still a little mad that this started as a little dare, and you ended up with the main role.

But worse than that, you became teenagers that were slowly developing feelings. And none of you hesitated to dare the other some things that would make them jealous. You did kiss Max Verstappen after a racing kart when, stupidly, Charles dared you to kiss the winner. He thought he would win. He thought he would finally be able to kiss you, even if it was through a game. Thinking it would be less weird for the two of you.

He didn’t expect you to maintain the dare and kiss his worst opponent.

“I can’t believe you kissed him.”

You were in his family car, driving home from the race. His dad was outside, ordering food so you could spend the rest of the evening together at home. Charles was at the front. You could see him with his arms crossed and his angry face through the rearview mirror. “Then you shouldn’t have dared me to kiss the winner.” It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why he was mad. It was obvious. But still, it was his dare. Not yours.

“I was supposed to win!” he yelled, turning around to face you.

“And how is that my problem Charles? I didn’t ruin your race.”

His dad came back right after your reply. So, you didn’t get to hear his own answer to this. But you had time to think about it. The problem wasn’t that you kissed Max, even if you were pretty sure that he wouldn’t be that mad if it was anybody else. It was that you didn’t kiss him.

You spend the whole trip silently thinking about that.

“Charles wait!” you screamed when you were finally at this place and leaving the car. At first, he kept walking like he didn’t hear you. It was Charles: ignoring the problem rather than facing it. Even if the problem was one of his favorite people in the world.

Since he didn’t want to listen to you, you took the fan you brought to the race and threw it at him. “Eh!” he yelled, finally turning around to face you.

“Good, now you’re listening.” You walked to him with a big smile. You noticed how close he was to just walk away again and avoid the confrontation. But you didn’t give him the time. You grabbed his wrist to make sure he won’t leave. “I dare you…”

“Oh god, can we please st…”

“To kiss me. Charles.”

He didn’t expect that. And you could tell from the way his eyes grew big and his mouth opened without a single word coming out. “That’s where the problem lies, right? You thought I would kiss you there. Then I dare you to kiss me now.”

And he did. Because you had promised to never break a dare. And because he had been dreaming about this moment for so long.

So, Charles broke the small distance between the two of you. He approached his face so close to yours that you could feel the air coming out of his mouth. Your eyes stopped blinking to not miss every single moment of this. How he licked his lips. How his eyes were going down and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he brought his hand to your face.

You closed your eyes only when his lips finally touched yours.

It was a simple kiss. One shared but two teenagers who still had a hard time dealing with their feelings. That couldn’t find the line between game and reality.

It would be lying to tell you both didn’t abuse the kissing dare. It was almost like you couldn’t do it otherwise. It would be wrong.

You did it when you were both jealous of someone else. Especially because when you were both 18, you were playing with fire and flirting with more people than you should. You wanted to see which one would break first. Which would stop the game and say it’s over.

As much as you believed in yourself, you were convinced you would be the one giving in. Charles’ kisses were phenomenal. But they weren’t healing your broken heart. The one that kept breaking each time you were seeing him with someone new.

But Charles was the one who changed the game.

You were lying in his hotel bedroom, after partying during the post-race celebration. You were drunk, you were tired, and you were cuddling like it wasn’t hot outside. But you couldn’t resist Charles’ arms, how no matter where you were it will always bring you home. To a safe place where nothing could happen.

You looked at him, lying shirtless, with his wet and messy hair all around the pillow, his hand caressing your back. He looked like a living dream. Your living dreams. The one you had since you were a child. You brought a finger to his face and started to trace his lips. “Kiss me” he mumbled. You weren’t sure you heard him right. You sat up slightly to look at him right when he turned his head to look at you.

“You didn’t ask properly.” You replied with amusement in your voice.

“I don’t want to ask properly anymore.” He said, bringing his hand from your back to your neck.

Before you knew, your face was just above his. One movement and you kissed. One movement and you admit that it was more than a game for you.

One movement that you did.

That night, you didn’t need to dare him to make love to you either. For once, the game was put apart and forgotten.

And during the first weeks of your new and official relationship, you completely forgot about dare. You were living your love naturally. Without the constant thought of asking each other to do crazy things. Then it came back one day. Out of nowhere. For a stupid dare that didn’t even mean something. Just Charles daring you to go skinny dipping in your pool since you were alone.

But hearing him dare you was like listening to a song you haven’t heard in years. Eating a meal you haven’t been eating in months. Seeing a movie you haven’t seen since childhood.

It felt wrong. It felt weird. Somehow a little relieving too. Like nothing had changed.

And so it’s started again. Childish dares like you used to do. More sensual ones now that you were a couple. Stupider ones because you wanted to play with the limits. And sadder ones when you were arguing.

When it was good, the dares were fun.

When it was bad, the dares were terrible.

“Stop blaming me for your bad performances Charles!”

The Monaco GP was over for hours now. And Charles didn’t win either of the two F2 races. Worse, he couldn’t even finish them. You could understand that he was mad, that he was angry at the team for losing his home race. Here. In front of everyone.

That didn’t mean he had to let it all go on you.

“Then what am I supposed to do, hm?” You hated when he talked like that. Like a pretentious brat who couldn't understand that not everybody agrees with him. Like you were too stupid to understand that he could be angry.

“I don’t know, control your anger? Or at least, not fuming against me.”

“You don’t have to come if you can’t accept my bad moments. Don’t inflict that on me that.”

He wasn’t even looking at you. Drinking a stupid beer on his friend’s balcony, because he didn’t even want to come home and face his parents. Watching the party happening outside like a poor boy that wasn’t invited. It was wrong. He was invited. He didn’t want to celebrate somebody else, selfishly.  

“You’re being mean, Charles.” You sighed, walking to him, hoping you could finally calm him down.

But then he hit. Harder. “You know what?” he asked, not even turning to you like you were important enough. “I dare you to not come to the next race. So, you won’t suffer from my terrible nature.”

He knew you wouldn’t say no. None of you ever said no to a dare. So, you waited a few seconds, expecting him to break it. But that never happened before either. When a dare was said, you had to respect it.

So many things happened in a month. So many things that made Charles regret even daring you this. He should have kept it to himself. Let the anger disappear before saying something so stupid.

He needed you in Baku. He needed you by his side after going through the worst event of his life.

But he dared you not to come.

And you respected it.

You watched your boyfriend doing a perfect race weekend from home. Winning the race for someone that wasn’t there. You should have been there. Hugging him. Kissing him. Telling him how proud you were instead of texting.

It made you realize how bad this situation was. How childish it was.

“This can’t go on.” You told him when he came back.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked without even needing an explanation. He knew.

It was obvious to the both of you that something had changed. That none of you had the heart to play those silly games anymore. But more than that. You both weren’t so sure you knew how to live with each other without them. Your whole relationship had been ruled by dares. Making decisions through them.

“Is this really the life you want for us? Not being able to talk to each other or ask anything without having to put dares between us?”

Selfilishy, you hoped Charles would reassure you. Take the bigger role and make sure you still believe in your relationship.

The truth was he was just as confused and scared as you were. Worse, he felt guilty and knew it was wrong. But he wasn’t sure he was mature enough to stop that.

“I don’t know.” He sighed and you looked at him silently, waiting for more. “I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what we can do. I know nothing ok? Life has been a mess and I know nothing anymore!” You could see in his eyes all the anger and frustration he was keeping for himself.

“I’ve spent most of my life with you. Look what we became.” There was something more in what Charles just said. More than just a fact you already knew.

He spent most of his life playing with you. But now, at 20, was it really the life he wanted? Was it how a sane relationship was supposed to be like? And if you don’t stop it now, how could you know how far you’ll go?

“Charles, I dare you…” you started with a broken voice.

“Wait, no, we can…” he tried to stop you. Because he perfectly knew where this was going. He knew the game. He knew the outcome.

“To stop seeing each other for five years.”

There it was. The ultimate dare. The one you both needed but refused to see. The one you had no other choice to say to finally find a way of getting better. Feeling better.

Being better lovers.

Charles didn’t even try to negotiate or change your mind. Because if you didn’t say it, he would have. For once, he was happy to not be the one taking the rough decision. “Can I get a last kiss?” He asked. No dare. No obligation. Just a request from a broken heart to another one.

And you were glad you accepted it. You kept the feeling of his lips on yours for weeks after that day. It made things a little easier.

At least it did until you started to forget how he tasted. Or how it felt to be in his arms. Or the smell of his perfume. Or how good you used to feel after he made love to you like you were the most important person in the entire world.

Five years was a lot. But you both understood after a while that you clearly need it to grow up and be a better person.

Not seeing him didn’t mean you couldn’t follow his career. You even cheated one day, during the first year, for the Monaco GP. You hide in the crowd to watch him race. A part of you thought that he didn’t win because the universe was waiting for the day you would be together again.

You watched Charles dating other people too. People that weren’t you. People that could touch him and love him like you were supposed to. Like you used to.

That was what made you start a relationship on your own. At first you secretly claimed it was to learn how to be a better girlfriend for Charles. But as the years went on and you noticed he was still with the same girl, you convinced yourself you had the right to be happy with someone else too.

Five years went faster than you thought. When the new year started, your only thought was that you were getting him back. But you couldn’t be sure you would. Maybe Charles loved his new life like it was. Maybe he didn’t even remember the dare or the date you could finally reconcile.

Maybe he didn’t love you anymore.

When Charles received the invitation, he knew it wasn’t a coincidence. As much as it broke his heart to see your name linked with your fiancé, he knew.

Your wedding was happening right on the date the last dare was supposed to end. You were getting married on the day Charles could finally see you again.

Charles didn’t forget about you either. You were always on his mind. When he started a race, he wanted to make sure you would hear about him winning. When he posted pictures with one of his girlfriends, he wanted to make you jealous. When he was alone, he was dreaming about you being by his side. For good.

None of his relationships lasted because he could never love them like he loved you. It wasn’t a surprise that he accepted to come to your wedding alone. Not like he would have brought anyone else, anyway.

“You look…stunning.”

Charles found his way to your dressing room. He waited a little to make sure you were by yourself. He didn’t have the heart to face anybody. Worse, face your fiancé.

But you were alone. Sitting in front of the mirror. Knowing deep well that today would change your life. Either for better or for worse.

When you turned around and saw Charles standing there, you knew the answer.

“You came.” you got up immediately, taking a step toward before stopping. You needed a minute to appreciate it. He was here. The same young adult you left five years ago today was in front of you. Looking more beautiful than ever. Looking more adult, more confident. Exactly like you always imagined Charles to look like in the future.

“You invited me.” He replied. Doing exactly the same thing. Appreciating the view of the woman he loved. Except he had to deal with something more. The sight of you in a wedding dress. Something he always dreamt to see. But for him. Not for any guy. “I would have traveled to the other side of the world to see you today.”

Facing each other, you realized why you decided to get married today. It would be the ultimate proof that your love was big enough to fight for.

“Do you love him?” His arms were crossed against his chest, like he was waiting impatiently for an answer. He looked like a professional negotiator here.

“Charles…”

“I said, do you love him?” The way he looked at you directly in the eyes was like the confirmation you needed. You both grew up. None of you need those stupids games anymore to be honest and say what you need to say or do what you need to do. Charles didn’t have to force you to speak the truth by daring you to do it. You were both honest and adults now.

Adults are still in love with each other.

“I don’t.” You started walking towards him like he was the light at the end of the tunnel. The one you’ve been chasing all these years and that you were finally seeing. You knew you could do no wrong by walking to him. “I love you, Charles.”

One second. It took him one second to grab your face between his hands and give you the passionate kiss you both needed. Again, you could feel the determination on the way he was holding you tight, making sure you wouldn’t leave again. Or the way he was kissing you so deeply almost like he needed to discover you again. Entirely. One of his hands got lost on your perfect styled hair.

Charles was here to destroy the engagement you made. So you could make a new one with him.

“Can I make one last dare?” He was breathless against your mouth. It reminded you of the countless times you let your excitement take the upper hand and have sex in the first intimate place you could find. You didn’t even have the strength to reply, too busy thinking about how bad you wanted his lips on yours again. So you simply nodded at his request.

You saw a smile growing on his face. “I dare you to run away with me.”

Eight words. Eight words that you never even wished to hear.

“You can never say no to a dare.” He told you the night you met.

You didn’t plan on saying no today. At least, not to him.

So you took Charles' hand. Or actually offered him yours.

Making a pact. Accepting a dare for the last time.

“I won’t let you go ever again.” He told you once you were sitting in his Ferrari, ready to ride together and forget about the mess your love created.

“Dare?”

“Dare.”

#charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc story #Charles Leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #F1 #F1 imagine #f1 story #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 angst #my writing

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Flamyangelwings; Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids.

Ma and Pa store the wreckages of both of their ships in a building that Kara thinks is a barn and cover them with thick, heavy fabric. She takes the crystals out of the ships first, obviously. The ships are little more than scrap now, but they’ll need the crystals one day. 

Not yet, but . . . one day. 

She and Kal both wear alien clothes and eat alien food and she does her alien work, and he plays with his alien toys, and Ma and Pa . . . Ma and Pa fuss, Kara can’t help feeling. 

Sometimes other aliens visit, or they go into Smoll-Veel for supplies or to eat at the restaurants or visit places Kara doesn’t always understand the purpose of. There’s a park, and a shop for textiles, and a . . . library, she thinks? Ma and Pa don’t exchange money for the things they take from it, anyway; just scan a card, and then bring them back later. Kara thinks they’re some sort of . . . paper records, from what she’s gathered–sheets upon sheets of paper, all bound together on one side. Some of them are slimmer and have pictures, and Ma and Pa like to take turns reading those to Kal. Some of them are thicker and don’t have pictures, or at least not many, and those they either read in silence or read to each other or even Kara.

She doesn’t understand them, obviously, but . . . it’s . . . nice, she thinks. 

She actually thinks they might be stories, not just records. Especially the ones with pictures in them. 

So it’s very nice, that Ma and Pa are sharing those with them. Very . . . very kind. 

In the settlement, Ma and Pa introduce Kara and Kal by slightly different names, and everyone calls them Mar-Tha and Jona-Than, not Ma and Pa. Kara thinks maybe this planet has private names on top of their public ones, though she’s not actually certain. 

They call her “Ka-Lair” and call Kal “Ka-Lum” to the other aliens, though they pronounce them a little oddly–“Claire” and “Callum”, more like. Or that’s as close as Kara can get, anyway. Sometimes they say “Ka-Lair Zo-El Kent” and “Ka-Lum El-Ot Kent”–Kara’s not sure why Kal gets the Laborer title attached to his name too, but supposes it must be because children on this planet are associated with their guardian’s guild until they’re old enough to choose their own–though again, the pronunciation is a little odd. More like . . . “Claire Zoelle Kent” and “Callum Elliot Kent”, she thinks. 

Most of the other aliens in Smoll-Veel are kind, but none of them are as kind as Ma and Pa. Ma and Pa are . . . they’re so kind. Ma teaches Kara how to make her “pye”, and Pa teaches her how to play a catching game with a small white ball and a peculiar webbed glove and sometimes a stick to hit the ball with, and they both teach her how to work on their little farm and help her take care of Kal. They’ve even gotten him his own little bed, with tall fenced-in sides so he can’t roll or climb out of it, and set it up in a bedroom for him and her to stay in together, with a closet full of clothes for them both and a box of toys for Kal and a shelf of thin paper records with pretty pictures inside of them that they read to him from every night after “supper”. 

She thinks Ma is female and Pa is male, now, and is mostly certain that they’re either mated or married or whatever this planet does, not related or just friends. Definitely not just coworkers, either way. They still call Kal’s toy dog “Krippo” instead of “Krypto”, but given Kara’s problems getting her own tongue around their language’s words, she’s not going to hold it against them. Kal understands what they mean when they say it, so that’s all that matters.

She feels vulnerable and uncomfortable whenever they’re off the farm, and sometimes even on it, but . . . but Ma and Pa are so kind, and it’s hard to feel uncomfortable with them.

Vulnerable, maybe, but not quite in the same way as she does out in Smoll-Veel.

#flamyangelwings #wip: kara gets to earth on time

[glassartpeasants]

Deny Your Feelings

Trafalgar Law x Assassin!GN!Reader

Warnings: small angst, mostly fluff, blood, mentions of death Grammarly said it was fine so i say its fine

~~~

For a government that prides itself itself in getting the job done by killing pirates, they sucked at it behind the scenes. Which is where you come in.

You were a high-end assassin for the world government. They called you when they deemed the target too dangerous for basic marines and too unpredictable to send out admirals.

No matter the pirate, you always got the job done. The payout was great each time, but it did get boring. Same thing over and over again. Join the crew, gain their trust, kill the Captain, then the crew, take the treasure, go to an island, set the ship on fire and finally go back to the higher-ups. Every single ‘crew’ you joined was nothing but rude, rowdy pirates who stole from the weak and treated people like trash. So you never had any problems taking their lives. So when you got a call about a new job, you figured it’d be the same old same old, but as soon as the pirate's name was revealed, you knew you finally had a challenge.

Trafalgar Law, aka The Surgeon of Death.

You’ve heard many stories about him, mostly bad ones, but stories nonetheless. He was Captain to the Heart Pirates and has a bounty of 200,000,000 berri’s. His bounty was the highest you’ve ever been sent after. You’ve never had to deal with a million berri’s man, so to be hired for such a feat almost felt like a gift. It was thrilling to be sent on such a mission, finally something to spice up such a monotonous cycle.

You couldn’t wait for the job to start.

~~~

“Everyone, this is (Y/N). They’re a new member of the crew, so treat them like you would anyone else.” Waving to everyone, you smile brightly before speaking.

“Nice to meet you all!” Not even seconds later, a giant polar bear runs up to you. Its outfit is orange compared to the common grey ones.

“Wow! It’s been so long since we’ve had someone new! I’m Bepo! Where are you from?” You were taken aback by its complete ability to speak as you had never seen something like it.

“I’m from the North Blue. What about you, big guy?” Everyone started to gather around you and began to ask questions about you. You told them the truth for the most part while still sprinkling some lies in to avoid suspicion.

“I need you guys to show them around. I have to get back to my studies.” Law voices rang in your ears as you turned your sight to him. Even though you’ve seen multiple pirates, there was something about the surgeon of death. His eyes seemed so hypnotizing, and the way his tattoos looked against his skin had you struggling not to ogle. He was a handsome man, truly, but his bounty poster didn’t nearly do him enough justice. It was a shame he was a pirate. If he wasn’t, you would have totally made a move. But alas, the universe had other plans and made him a pirate.

A dangerous one at that. Killing him would be no easy task. His devil-fruit abilities were a force to be feared. No doubt he had haki, too. Truly a formidable opponent. 

“No problem, Captain!”

“Thanks. Now, get ready to submerge.” Law’s last words had your stomach dropping.

“Submerge?...” A slight grin cracked his face.

“Yep, 450m under the surface.” A look of horror crossed your face, causing Law to stifle a laugh. You make a dash to the nearest window, and your heart sinks as you watch yourself descend to the deep. Being on a ship? Fine. You were above water. But below water? 450m down in Sea King waters? The thought of being in a metal-enclosed space had your blood freezing.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

~~~

Ever since entering the Polar Tang, you’ve done your best to distract yourself from how deep you were underwater. Cleaning, exercising, playing games with the crew, and getting to know their routines. Currently, you're making yourself a snack. Onigiri, to be exact. You’ve been cravigning it since joining the Heart Pirates and just now have the motivation to make it. You hummed a tune while dancing lazily as you finished the onigiri. The sound of footsteps approaching goes unnoticed as you are too enveloped in your own world to notice them. 

“Having fun?” Law’s voice broke you from your trance, causing you to yelp and turn to face him. Your face felt as if it were on fire with how embarrassed you were.

“Jesus! You scared me! How long have you been standing there?” You fiddle with your fingers before turning around to try to finish the onigiri quickly so Law doesn’t see how flustered you are.

“Long enough.” You could feel his gaze burn from behind you. It made you unbelievably nervous. There was no doubt he was studying you. What if he knew who you were? He’d kill you for sure!

“What are you making?” Law’s monotone voice returns, and you feel yourself slightly calm down.

“Oh? Just some onigiri. Would you like some Captain?” Turning around, you see a small pink dust on his cheeks. Did you embarrass him or something?

“I…Just ate, but thank you.” You nod your head before sitting down at the table to eat.

“It’s my favorite, so I thought I should share something that makes me happy.” This was a true statement regardless of whether Law was a pirate or not. It did give you the idea to kill him via poison. If you made food and poisoned it and fed it to everyone, they’d all be dead without a fight. But you heard about all the powers Law’s devil fruit can do, so that plan was shut down before it could even come to fruition. Him also being a doctor makes things only 10x harder. The plan needed to be perfect for it to work. No room for mistakes.

~~~

If only you could use your governmental status right now. The Marines shooting you were pissing you off. While it’d make your job easier if they hit the crew members, you wouldn’t get all the pay if they shot Law. And that would not stand.

“Captain! More just arrived!” You and Law both turn your heads as you see more Marines approaching.

“There must be a base nearby if they keep coming like this. I don’t wanna deal with an admiral, so let’s go. Everyone to the sub!” Following Law’s orders, everyone makes a break for the Polar Tang.

“It’s like they're randomly spawning! They're coming out of nowhere!”

“Welcome to the pirate life newbie.” You can hear the smirk in Law’s voice as he runs right beside you. Despite trying to focus on running, your eyes move in Law’s direction. Even though he looked exhausted, he moved with such precision. The way a small bead of sweat rolled down his face made a slight burning feeling appear on your face. 

‘No! He’s a pirate! Get your head in the game!’ Shaking your head, you return to making your running your top priority. You wouldn’t get money if you were dead.

Bullets whip past you and Law, making your heart jump in your chest. You’ve been shot before, but it felt different coming from your own team. Usually, the sound of Marines yelling didn’t bother you, but now it gave you an intense feeling of unease. You haven’t even been a ‘pirate’ for 3 months, and you're already starting to despise them!

Moving your head to the side, you catch a Marine aiming straight for Bepo. Your eyes widen as you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you run towards the bear. Dread filled your heart as you feared for the bear's safety. 

“Bepo! Look out!” Without a second thought, you push the bear out of the way. The gunshots echoed in your ears before a stinging pain hit your shoulder. You could see the worst possible outcome if you weren’t there even seconds later.

“Fucking A! Damnit, whatever. Bepo, hurry, let’s go!” You grab the bear's paw and begin to drag him to the polar tang. The pain in your shoulder had you biting your lip until blood appeared from your bite's sheer force. While it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been shot, this one felt so much more painful. You can feel blood seep into your uniform as you try running faster.

“(Y/N) your bleeding! A lot!” Bepo’s voice rang in your ears as you finally looked down at your wound. He wasn’t kidding when he said a lot. Almost your entire shoulder was drenched in the red substance.

“Now’s not the time to worry about it! Our priority is getting back to the Polar Tang! I can see it from here, so don’t stop now, alright?!” Bepo’s worried face is replaced by a serious one as he continues to run. The yellow metal of the sub gives both of you determination to run faster.

Once getting on the dock, you have Bepo jump in first before yourself. An action you ask yourself for. In fact, you were questioning why you saved him in the first place? If he died, that’d be one less nuisance to kill later. That and you wouldn’t have been shot! You wouldn’t be currently bleeding out if you just left him to die. Yet, the thought of the bear getting hurt made your heart burn. 

~~~

The event’s of earlier replayed in your mind as you sit in the infirmary. As soon as the Polar Tang went under the waves, you rushed yourself to the infirmary so you could fix your shoulder.

While yes, your ‘Captain’ is a doctor, the last thing you want is to owe him. Not to mention he was too busy setting course for the next destination. You didn’t have the time to wait. So you were gonna do it yourself, it’s not like people would come looking for you. That being said, you grab all the supplies you need and begin your own health care. It couldn’t be that hard.

“Damn bullet. Just get out already.” Putting your gloved finger in the wound, you try to fish out the bullet. A hand towel between yoru teeth as you bit down in pain. How can something be so difficult?! It’s a metal cylinder for chirsts sake! Why can’t you find it?! The lack of success made you aware of how much more blood you’ve lost. Your gloved hand is covered in it and ran down your arm. A weary feeling fills your body as you can feel yourself growing tired. Which even you know is not a good sign.

“Yeah, they're in here, Captain!” The sound of hurried footsteps catches your attention as the infirmary door opens. The figure of Law and Bepo enter your vision. You should have known Bepo would tell him.

“Jesus (Y/N)-ya! What are you thinking?!” The way his voice reprimanded you made you unintentionally lower your head.

“I just didn’t want to bother you since you were busy.”

“I’m your Captain, and as your Captain, it’s my job to make sure my crew stays okay! That means fixing them when their hurt! Never do this shit again, understand?” Looking away from him with a lowered head, you respond.

“Yes, Captain.”

~~~

You were currently sitting in the crew bunks reading a book, trying to ignore the pins and needles in your shoulder and your heavy heart. It shouldn’t affect you as much as it is, but when Law yelled at you, you felt ashamed. The fact a pirate could make you feel this way pissed you off. How can a simple pirate crew influence your emotions to where you took a bullet for one of them? No matter how hard you tried to focus on the book you were reading, your agonizing thoughts kept running rampant. 

Yet just as you were about to put the book away, theres a knock at the door.

“Hello?” Waiting to see another crew member, you were shocked to see Law standing at the door frame staring at you.

“Do you need something, Captain?”

“Bepo told me you took the bullet for him. Is that true?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want him to get hurt after I saw a Marine aiming at him.” Law said nothing as he looked at your bandaged shoulder.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like a bullet wound.” A small chuckle left his lips as he stared at you before going silent.

“Sorry for not telling you about it. You were already busy, so I didn’t want to add more trouble to your plate.”

“I apologize for yelling; Bepo wanted to say thank you, but he felt too bad to say it in person.”

“I’ll have to tell him it’s no problem. But it’s sweet of you to help him.” Law looks away as he puts his hand on his neck. He couldn’t have you seeing how your words made his cheek show a slight pink.

“Also, I have a question. Or, well, a request, really.”

“What is it?”

“I was wondering when, or if you have the time, you could teach me some basic first aid and CPR? I just would like to help in case someone got hurt on the battlefield. Like a field medic who can take care of their own.” Law’s heart did a small flip as you looked at him. You’ve only been a Heart Pirate for 3 months, and you’ve already taken a bullet for a crewmate, made meals more than half the time, always cleaned, and now you're making an effort to try and help him and your crewmates even more?

How can someone be so caring to people they barely know?

The thought of being alone with you, having you watch him in awe made his fingers twitch. It annoyed him. Why did you have this ability to have him feel emotions he hasn’t felt in years? Was it your eyes? You voice? What was it about you that had Law’s heart skipping a beat? How could he feel this way about someone he’s only known for 3 months? If he was smart, he’d say that he was busy and that he didn’t have the time to teach you.

“I’m free now so get up and let’s go.”

~~~

The moonlight was just bright enough that you were able to read your notes late into the night while everyone else was sleeping. Ever since you asked Law to teach you about first aid and CPR, you’ve been taking notes on everything he teaches. You didn’t want to forget anything. Even if you’d never admit it, you caught yourself looking forward to the lessons.

Penguin told you thathe’s never spent this much time with a crewmate before. That you’ve been the only one to actually get him out of his office. Knowing that made your blood run faster. It was both good and bad. You were getting him to trust you, it’d be easier to kill him if he lowered his guard around you. But on the other hand, your heart started to constrict every time you thought about killing him. That you looked forward being next to him. You could feel yoru face burn each time you saw a smirk on his face.

His beautiful face.

Slapping both hands to your face, you try to get rid of the thoughts that dared to threaten your mission. He was a pirate, you were a assassin hired by the world government to kill him. The things you began to feel for him was simply unacceptable. You couldn’t fall for a pirate.

The urge to read your notes was now gone, making you put them under your bunk. You didn’t want to think about anything that involves the man poisoning your heart. Grabbing your covers, you pull them over your head, hoping that no one would see the conflicted look on your face as your plagued with thoughts about the man only two doors down.

~~~

The kitchen was nice and quiet this time of night. Perfect time to simmer in your thoughts and write down all the information you learned from Law. You even bought all sorts of notebooks, pencils, highlighters, and anything you could think of that would help you keep track of things. It does help keep your mind occupied so you forget that your underwater. Even though you were internally screaming at yourself for putting in so much effort to make Law proud, you try tto ration that learning things like this could help you in the long run.

Reaching out, you grab the onigiri that you had prepared earlier and take a bite. The flavors making you lose focus from your notes as you smile. Eating the food always made you happy not matter how shitty the day was. You even had some tea to keep you awake. A perfect combination. Favorite food, great drinks and drawing your Captain all over your notes.

Wait.

Your eyes widen as you coke on your food. Rubbing your watery eyes, you see your hand just above a drawing of Law. Your eyes scan the entire page and all you can see is drawings upon drawings of Law werre scattered anywhere there was free room. Speechless, you quickly put down yoru food and start searching for a big eraser. You needed to erase them right away before anyone saw. Erase them before you could continue to think about him. 

Desperately trying to get rid of the drawings, you end up ripping the paper. Looking down, you could feel your heart slowing downseeing the crumpled up paper, no longer containing Law. His face comeptely erased from the notes. You drop the eraser before rubbing your face. Even when your not thinking about him, you are! How dare he make you feel this?!

You went to grab your unfinished onigiri but decided against it. Not wanting to taint your favorite food by thinking of a pirate.

“Damn pirate…”

“What are you doing awake?” Law’s voice had you jumping in your seat. You quickly turn the page of your notebook so he won’t see the sins you drew. Even if they were already erased.

“Could ask the same for you, Captain.” You joke with the man as he stifled a chuckle.

“Working. Came for coffee.”

“Ah. I’m working on notes for the things you’ve been teaching me. It’s just quieter at night to study. Also easier to make food and tea without worrying about it being stolen.” Law looks down and sees a perfectly made onigiri next to you.

“You can have one if you want. I don’t mind sharing…if it’s with you.” Law watches you move the plate closer to him. He could feel his heart skip a beat. Normally he’d not be one to eat food this late at night, but what could one hurt?

“Thanks.” Grabbing the food, Law takes a bite. His eyes widen upon the taste. Never in his entire life has he had onigiri this good.

“Is it bad?” Realizing he’s been quiet and seeing your saddened face, Law quickly swallows the food and begins to speak.

“No, not at all. I’ve just…this is really good.” He could see his words immediately lifting your mood. Whether he said it or not, your smile had him struggling not to smile back.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you like it, Captain.” Law looked down at the scattered notes. A small part of him was amazed at how serious you were about it. Another part told him that he needed to get back to work. Yet the voice telling him to stay was much louder, and thankfully, he had the perfect idea.

“I’m giving you a pop quiz.”

“What?! You never said anything about a quiz!”

“That’s why it's called a pop quiz. Now put your notes away." You can see the almost invisible smirk Law had. Grumbling, you stack your things neatly and place them far away. Your annoyance soon fizzled out when he sat right next to you.

“First question. What does ABC mean in first aid?”

“Easy. Airway, breathing, and circulation.” Law nods, and you can see him thinking of the next question.

“Injury caused by rubbing or scrapping of the skin?”

“Abrasion.”

“Correct.” You watch as Law grabs another onigiri. The sight of him wanting another one made your heart jump. He liked them enough to eat a second one? You had to keep yourself from gushing. He’s a pirate. No gushing over some dangerous pirate!

“A method of prioritizing treatment?”

“Triage.”

“Good job (Y/N)-ya.”

Maybe being in the company of a dangerous pirate wasn’t so bad.

~~~

Two arms wrap around your waist while you feel something bury in the crook of your neck. The smell of breakfast was easily over powered by the muck of the man holding you close. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair under his hat. A sigh came from teh man and you smile as it fans against your skin.

“What’s got you so loving? I thought you didn’t like PDA?”

“I don’t. Everyone's gone.” Short words, yet it’s all you need to know. The feeling of his arms wrapped around you had you feeling an overwhelming sense of safety engulf you. You intertwine his fingers with his before gently rocking side to side. 

“I’m so happy that I get to see the most handsome man in the world every day. And that he’s all mine.” Your words cause Law to hide his face deeper in your neck, but you can still see his ears a light pink.

“I’m happy that you're with me, too.” He whispers against your skin. Turning your head, you place a kiss on the brim of his hat. You watch as Moves his head to look at you. His eyes travel to your lips before he moves closer to your face-

“Everyone up! Time to dock and grab supplies!” Your eyes shot open when Penguin's voice broke you from your slumber. All your crewmates grumble as they begin to change and get ready for the day, yet your stuck in bed. The dream replays in your mind like a broken record. Lifting your fingers to your face, you gently brush your fingertips against your lips. If Penguin didn’t wake you up, would he have kissed you?

Your heart has never beat more faster as you simply think about the dream. It felt so real. What’s worse is that you wished you finsihed the dream.

Frustration and anger fill your body as you feel tears slip down your skin. Clenching your teeth, you try to yell at yourself internally. Tell yourself that what you feel is wrong! That you’d rather die than fall in love with a pirate!

‘Stop! You can’t fall in love with him! Get your shit together (Y/N)!’ You yell at yourself as you groggily get ready to dock. Maybe if you breathe fresh air, you’ll realize that your thinking like a fool/ A change of scenery is what you need. It’ll help you realize what your really here for. 

To kill the Surgeon of Death.

~~~

You follow Law and the rest of the crew in town to grab supplies and maybe rob a store or two. Whatever, it’s not like it matters. Not when this is the last stop that Law will ever see. There's a half-ass plan you came up with in your head when you got ready to leave the Polar Tang. It’s not perfect but it has to do. You couldn’t risk being next to him anymore. Simply being near him made your body crazy. Hearing his voice made your heart flip, and looking at his eyes made your legs weak. Without even knowing, Law had your heart in the palm of his hand.

“Okay, everyone. We’re splitting into groups.” You try to ignore his voice but still listen to where your group would be. 

“Me and (Y/N)-ya will be going west of town. Everyone got it?” If you could, you’d disappear on the spot. The universe has to be screwing with you. Truly a cruel joke it was playing.

Everyone separates, leaving Law and you alone. You quickly try to hide all the negative emotions and put up a happy front. Walking closer to Law, his smell hits you like a sack of bricks. You desperately try to seem unfazed, but you can feel your legs weaken.

“Anywhere, in particular, Captain?”

“Bookstore.” You blink at him.

“Really?”

“Yes. Your getting textbooks.” You pout at his words. It’s a shame since they’d be useless after today.

“That and I overheard you talking to yourself, saying you like to read books to help with your insomnia.”

BA-DUM

BA-DUM

“Y-Yeah, I do. Aren’t you gonna get something for yourself as well?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“So we're going just for me?” Law’s eyes widen as your face burns.

“Sleep is important. You need it to be healthy, and you already do a lot more than your fellow crewmates.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Law nods, and you both make your way to the bookstore. Despite your outer emotions, inside, you were screaming. How could he hit you with such an act? He’s acting like he cares about you. What if he did? He’s acting like you mean more to him than just a crewmate. But that can’t be possible. Pirates are ruthless. They don’t care about love and things like that.

Law was a pirate, nothing more to it.

~~~

“Did you choose the biggest textbooks cause you could?!” Your complaining as you carry the heavy textbooks only made him smirk. If you weren’t holding all your books, you’d jump him.

“Perhaps.” A gasp leaves your lips as you stop in your tracks.

“Your lying!”

“Who’s the one carrying the textbooks?” You were speechless at his audacity. He seemed to think your reaction was funny as the men let out a laugh. So quiet that you almost couldn’t hear.

BA-DUM

BA-DUM

His laughter made your blood run hot as your heart beat against your ribs. How can laughter make you such an utter blubbering mess. The laughter of a pirate sounded more beautiful then any other laugh you’ve ever heard. It was something your heart wanted to listen to on repeat.

Suddenly, a drop of water falls from the sky and on your nose.

“Rain?”

“If it is, then we should get back to the Polar Tang. The textbooks could be ruined.” Nodding your head, you walk next to Law as you both hurry to get out of the rain.

~~~

Finally making it to the Polar Tang, you stop outside. The rain pelting against your skin did nothing to distract you from the scattered junk that's running through your mind. It was quiet on the way to the sub, and you hated it. It left you in your conflicted feelings. How would you finally get the opportunity to kill him? How your heart screamed that what you felt was real but you knew better. You were more strong-willed than that-

“I’m glad you joined.” A voice so soft and quiet broke the silence. It had your eyes widening and your heart freezing.

“What did you say?”

“You can see the pink appear on Law’s cheeks as he repeated himself.

“I’m glad you joined.” His final words made you bite your lips as tears began to form in your eyes.

BA-DUM

BA-DUM

CRACK

You fall to your hands and knees as sobs begin to escape your lips, and you can no longer deny what you feel. No amount of lying to yourself could work anymore. You had failed your mission. A mission you gave a year of your life to. You had fallen in love with Trafalgar Law, and there's nothing you could do about it.

“You shouldn’t be…”

“(Y/N)-ya? What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t deserve to be called a Heart Pirate!”

“(Y/N)-ya, what's wrong?” The sound of worry and confusion in his voice only made it worse.

“Just kill me. I can’t handle these feelings! It’s not fair to you and the crew!”

“I’m not going to kill you (Y/N)-ya! Now what the hell is going on?!-”

“I’m an assassin sent by the world government to kill you!” Your head was touching the ground, and your soaked uniform clung to your skin. A sickly silence covered the two of you before you continued to confess.

“But I can’t! I can’t do it! The thought of anything bad happening to you makes me sick! It makes my heart burn to think about you in any pain!” Hiccups soon accompany your sobs as your hair starts sticking to your face.

“The thought of living in a world without you is hell! Ever since I’ve met you, my heart has beat faster than it ever has! Seeing you everyday and being near you everyday makes me so happy and i could never be happier!”

“I love sharing food with you! I love spending time with you! I love listening to your voice and laughter! I love you, Trafalgar Law! I love you so fucking much that I’d rather die than live without you!” Law’s still silent, and it only makes you ramble more.

“I know you don’t feel the same and I don’t deserve for you to feel the same! You deserve someone who wouldn’t lie to your face for a year! I deserve nothing! I don’t deserve to dream about you! I don’t deserve to imagine holding your hand or holding you close! I don’t deserve to dream about kissing you…” Sobs echo in your ears as your vision blurs. You could barely breathe as the tears kept flowing.

“Please, Captain…just kill me. I’m a traitor who deserves to die. I failed you and used your kindness selfishly. Now I can’t imagine a world without you and a world without you is a world where i’d rather die. So please, Law, stab me, poison me, just do something! I’ll take whatever punishment you give me with open arms as it’s all I deserve…” Hugging yourself, you can’t hear Law over the now thundering sounds coming from the sky. The rain only started pouring harder and hitting your back like hail. You wait for some sort of pain or the bittersweet embrace of death, yet it never comes. 

You didn’t dare look up at Law’s face. You didn’t deserve to.

“(Y/N)-ya.” His voice made your heart split in two. 

The tears and sobs distracted you from the sound of crunching grass coming up from in front of you. It’s only when you feel a hand grab your chin and lift it up.

“Get in the sub. We’ll talk about this later. You're going to get sick if you stay out in the rain longer.” Your tears still continue when you feel him grab your arm and pull you to your feet. The sudden action had your eyes widening and your legs shaking. 

“B-But…Captain-” Before you could utter a word. A gentle pair of lips connect with yours before leaving. Lasting only a few seconds yet you could still feel the sensation on your lips. The tears still blur your vision, but you ignore them as you feel yourself being led to the Polar Tang.

“It’s Law.”

#one piece x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader