#unless… his suitcase is already in there?

[hawkinsquarry]

all things must pass (steve x reader)

summary: steve makes you leave him at the end of the world.

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; no pronouns used for reader; post-st4; unresolved angst; probably too much swearing :/

i miss this guy and i’m feeling insane over him so have some angst with an ambiguous ending 🫶🏻

Steve’s feet feel particularly heavy when we steps across your foyer. And the packet he has in his hands feels even heavier. He brushes off a few specs of ashes before slamming them down on the table in front of you, lazily eating cereal.

“What the hell is this?” you ask after a moment, grabbing the ledger on top. You know immediately it’s an airline ticket. It makes you feel sick and you push your Cheerios away as your eyes scan the details.

FROM-TO

IND > LA

You want to fucking kill him but you don’t have a chance as he breezes past, grabbing your suitcase out of your walk in closet.

“You depart in twelve hours,” he starts. He recited it in his head the entire way over to make the conversation easier, but the words are hard to get out. “Only take your essentials. When you’re there, a chauffeur will pick you up and take you to the - the - the location.”

“Steve, I’m not fucking going -“

“Yes, you are.” He says sternly. Like you’re a child.

“I’m not going anywhere without you!”

And he know this was coming - this cyclical argument you’ve been having for the last three weeks, your tears, the lump in his throat, uncertainly fogging both of your vision. But it doesn’t make it any easier, any less frustrating.

He says your name low and quiet. A plea. “This is safe. This is where the - the - the people I know told me to send you. That it’s the safest place.”

“And we’re trusting those people now?”

“No. W-well, yes! It - it’s - just - trust me, not them. Okay?” He settles your suitcase on the couch and starts moving around your living room for things he knows you’ll need. A blanket. Medicine. “Anywhere away from here is better, anyway.”

“So you admit it isn’t safe?”

Steve sniffles. “I never said it was.”

You follow him to your bedroom where he begins ripping clothes from your closet. He doesn’t miss the hoodie he leant you a few months ago. It’s laid on top of your suitcase with more shirts and pants.

You grab his arm and try to force it to fall back to his side, but he’s too strong, god damn him. “Steve, quit!” you beg, digging your heels into the ground and tugging on him. “I’m not leaving, Steve. I’m not going unless you go with me.”

“We talked about this.”

As nauseam, in fact. Until the ache in Steve’s throat was excruciating. Until your voice was hoarse and you were heaving. He’s not leaving, and you are.

You tug on him again. “I’ll keep talking about it until you listen to me!”

He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps moving back and forth between your closet and the suitcase. You cry, as hard as you try not to. You really are like a petulant child, stomping your foot, throwing a tantrum. You feel like it’s the only way he’ll listen, but you know the reality is that he still won’t.

“What about me?” you cry. You’re so angry at him, want to say something that’ll make him hurt. That’ll change the expression on his stoic face. You find it in you to refrain. “What about us, Steve?”

Keeps packing. Head down. Jaw clenched tight. He was ready for this fight when he walked in.

“Steve, let the goddamn military handle it. Do - do you honestly think you’re going to save the world?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Then what?”

He doesn’t answer because you already know why. Because he can’t leave Dustin, and Dustin can’t leave El, because apparently she can save the world. And Robin won’t leave Steve who won’t leave Dustin who won’t leave El. And Nancy fucking Wheeler won’t leave Mike who won’t leave El.

It makes you feel insane. Your blood boils and spills over, and over, and over, and it never just depletes. You keep going, keep arguing, trying to talk him out of it until your voice is hoarse. It’s hoarse now, in fact. Last night Steve held you until you shut up, until you cried yourself to sleep, and you had no idea he had already got you a plane ticket out of here. You feel so betrayed it makes your stomach twist and chest ache.

“I can’t live without you,” you try. It’s the third time you’ve pulled this and it seems to get him the most. “Steve, I don’t know what I’d do if - if….”

Steve bites his cheek, stilling, his hands clutching one of your sweaters.

“Why don’t you care?” you push.

He sniffles again, pinches his nose. You’d prefer it if he’d just let himself cry. He’d give in, then, if he let his emotions take over.

“Don’t you love me?”

“Jesus, yes,” he grits, finally looking at you. His eyes are red. “Why do you think I’m makin’ you leave, huh? Why do you think I’m staying?”

“Because you think you’re something you’re not!”

He runs a big hand through his hair so harshly you fear it’ll get tugged out. He walks towards you, holding his arms out, murmuring, “honey,” and as much as it pains you, you back away.

“Don’t,” you say sharply. Your throat aches. “Don’t do that, Steve.”

“I love you.” He sounds exhausted. “I love you, please believe me.”

“If you love me, then come with me.”

“There won’t be a world for us to live in unless we stop this.”

“You aren’t going to save the world.” You’re so desperate for him to listen to you. “The chances are so slim, Steve. Why can’t we love each other while we have time?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I won’t let you die without doing something about it first.”

You stare at each other. It’s suddenly dawning on you that nothing you’ll do will ever change his mind. That his chances of living through the next few days are slim. That this is the last time you’ll get to see him. While he’s packing for you and forcing you to take a plane to California.

There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s not like what you’ve seen in the movies you rented from Family Video when Steve had a shift. Before he was yours. When you went because the forest green vest looked so good on him, and he always had some goofy recommendation, and he let his hands touch yours when giving you your change for a moment too long.

You’ve hardly even had him.

“So that’s it?” You can hardly hear yourself.

“I’m doing this for you. I’m doing everything for you. And - and i-if it works, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear, angel.”

You shake your head, hot tears making their way down your jaw. “No.”

He stills. Looks a little like a deer in headlights. Caught off guard, shocked. Mouth parting slightly before closing again, like he wants to argue but can’t.

What is there to say?

“If you make me get on that plane, Steve….” You shake your head again, swallowing the ache in your throat down.

You stare at each other again. His eyes are one of your favorite things about him. Those saccharine, chestnut and moss colored irises. They scrunch up when he laughs. You used to think about leaving Hawkins and moving somewhere nice, so far away from all of this that Steve grows up to have crows feet around his eyes. That you’d be the one who put them there. And this is the last time you’ll see them.

“You have to go,” he eventually sniffles.

“Please,” you try, for the final time.

He blinks slowly, frowning, chest rising and falling slowly. “I love you,” he whispers. “Please believe me.”

You’re not sure if you can.

#steve harrington x reader #han posts #steve x reader

[chirpsythismorning]

Wait, did Mike sleep in Will’s room in Lenora?

#byler #no but I can’t decide what’s more abhorrent #mike sleeping in the living room with murray and them not showing us #or #mike sleeping in will’s room and them not showing us #like why did mike only bring his backpack and duffel bag into will’s room for their talk? #where was his suitcase? #i checked in shots showing the front doorway and the living room and mike’s suitcase is nowhere in sight #i guess it could be in a spare bedroom? #but weren’t they trying to sneak out of will’s window or something? #so the agents wouldn’t notice? #otherwise why not just set his bags by the door? why haul them downstairs? #and why not bring his suitcase too for a swift exit? #unless… his suitcase is already in there? #maybe he slept there the first night but then went to the living room the second night with murray gone now? #why don’t y’all share with the class #why is it so close to mike like all he’s gotta do it grab it and run away 😭 #I know the duffers know where mike slept #yall wanna share with the class?

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter One - I Hate You

Is me starting another series before my dissertation a really bad idea? Yes, yes it is (but i had the idea and I need to get it written down asap)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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"Get out of my apartment!"

In the doorway of a little two bedroom apartment in Woking was Y/N L/N. She had a bad on her back and at least three suitcases behind her. And in front of her was Lando Norris, her teammate, biggest rival and mortal enemy.

Lando stared at her, dumbfounded. "Your apartment?" He repeated, expression still shocked. "No, Zac said this one is for me."

"Then why did he give me a key for apartment 241?"

They held up the exact same set of keys on the exact same keyring. Lando let out a sigh through his nose as he pocketed his version of the key. "Somebody clearly has royally fucked up," he said and sat on the couch.

"I'm gonna call him," said Y/N as she put the key back into her pocket. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and dialled the number of her boss.

Zac Brown had been hers and Lando's boss for the last year and few months. He'd been dealing with hers and Lando's shit from day one, ever sine they revealing the McLaren car for that year. They'd almost gotten onto a fight on the stage in front of everybody.

Zac picked up the phone in just a few rings. "How're you liking the new place?" He asked in way of hello.

"It's great, Zac. Except it comes with an annoying little prick," Y/N spat.

There was a second where Zac didn't say anything. He saw this coming, had tried to mitigate it as best he could by telling Lando he'd be getting a roommate. Of course, he didn't say who that roommate would be: that would have just been asking for trouble.

But, then again, all of this was asking for trouble. Zac had been waiting for a call from at least one of them since he got into the office (he'd hoped it would have been Lando; over the past year he'd proven himself to be easier to deal with than Y/N, who didn't back down. No matter what).

"Get yourself unpacked, I'll deal with you tomorrow," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Zac put the phone down. He didn't say goodbye to his drivers, unless it was on race days. With nowhere left to go, Y/N dragged her things into the apartment. "Where's the second bedroom?" She grumbled as she looked down at Lando.

Without looking away from the television, Lando pointed behind him. But that wasn't helpful, since there was the kitchen just behind them and then two doors. "Furthest one," he said and Y/N dragged her bags through the rest of the apartment, heading to the furthest away bedroom.

The bedroom was sizeable, with a double bed and wardrobe already inside. But, other than that, there wasn't a lot. Y/N unpacked nothing but bedding and clothes for the next day. There was no way she was staying here, not living with Lando Norris.

***

Carpooling made so much sense when going to the same place as somebody, unless you hated that person. Zac watched from his office as two cars pulled up outside of the McLaren Technology centre.

The drivers got out of the car almost in sync. They both wore sunglasses as they strode towards the doors, Y/N's glare not visible behind her sunglasses as she followed Lando inside.

Things were clearly tense between them as they walked through the office. The drivers said nothing to each other, but their expressions said enough.

Where Lando took an elevator up to Zac's office, Y/N took the stairs. She ran up them, the two of them arriving at the same time (one of them out of breath and the other smirking at her).

She took the lead as they strode into the office. "Zac," Y/N began, but the CEO held his hand.

He wasn't like other bosses, he was a cool boss. But he was still there boss and, when he held up his hand, the two knew to shut up. "Sit down," he said, leaning back in his own chair.

Y/N and Lando sat in the seats on the other side of the desk. Her leg bounced as she waited for Zac to speak and Lando had his hands shoved into his pockets. Neither of them could ever agree on anything, except the fact that they're not leaving the room until they're not living together.

Zac laced his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You're both brilliant drivers," he began, "but you're both liabilities. You've both cost us millions because you keep trying to kill each other on the track. And your behaviour towards each other off track is bringing bad press to all of us at McLaren," he finished.

"We don't want to lose either of you as drivers, so we've come up with the brilliant plan to force you to get along."

Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she stared at her boss. "And if we refuse?" She asked him, placing one leg on top of the other.

"Then, we'll have to let one of both of you go. But the choice is yours."

But the choice wasn't really theirs. No matter what, they couldn't lose their seats, so they were just going to have to stick it out, suffer through it. Fuck.

The tension between the two wasn't just random. It had been brewing since their karting days. Even then they ran each other off the tracks and fought between races. Of course, back then it wasn't as big a deal.

There were way too many videos of when they were kids and they'd pushed each other off the track, gotten out of their karts and gotten into a physical fight. If they weren't so clearly talented, it would have affected their careers.

For the first few months of their Formula One careers in McLaren, the team thought they had made a mistake. If they weren't consistently in the points, Zac would have gotten rid of the both of them. But, truth be told, they were too good to let go.

So, he dangled this threat in front of them. Learn to get along or one of you is sacked. He'd thought about this hard, realised that this was the perfect threat. Y/N and Lando were so competitive that the thought of one of them losing their seat while the other thrived would have torn them apart.

"Fine," said Y/N. She stood up so quickly that the chair she was sat on, fell backwards. She quickly picked it up and rushed out of the office.

Lando said a goodbye to Zac and walked out of the office, rushing after her. He ran into the elevator just before the doors slid shut and stood beside her. They didn't look at each other, stared straight at the doors as the elevator took them down. "Sup, new roommate," he said with a smirk.

The elevator stopped moving and the doors slid open. "I hate you," Y/N said and walked out of the McLaren technology centre.

She drove her way back to the apartment in Woking in complete silence. Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight that it left imprints on her skin, on her palms and her finger tip.

How she didn't get pulled over for speeding, she'd never know. But the speed limit was the least of her concern as she made her way back to what was her new home.

But it would never be her home, not while Lando was living there.

***

Reluctantly, she unpacked her things. Hung her clothes up in her wardrobe and placed her underwear in the drawers. Y/N placed pictures of her family, pictures of her old F2 car, of her pets, of her car from the previous year up around her room. She pulled her lamp from her back and placed it on the bedside table, along with her phone, its charger, and her toiletries.

Lando had arrived home just minutes after her, but she'd already locked herself in her room. The only way they'd be able to get through this was by avoiding each other.

When her things were unpacked, Y/N sat on the bed and grabbed a book. A biography, all about the life of Enzo Ferrari. The one thing her room was missing was her sim racing rig, something her father was meant to bring up that day, but Y/N had told him to wait until she had somewhere new to live (which, we all know didn't happen. She was stuck in this apartment with Lando, whether she liked it or not).

Pressing her ear to the door, Y/N listened as Lando walked around. She waited until he walked past her room and into his own, shutting the door behind him. Only then did she walk out of her room to get herself something to eat and drink.

She could do this. All she had to do was avoid him.

Easy.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Between your arms [S. R]

Spencer Reid x wife!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: after a hard day Spencer returns to his safe place

A/N: I just finished the third season, imagine it's somewhere in there. And DAMN, with each passing chapter I fall more in love with this man

When Spencer got home, he was completely exhausted. The case had been delayed longer than expected and the fact that the jet had technical problems didn’t help in the least, so the total delay was 5 hours, so it was already late at night when he opened the door of your apartment. He strongly wished that you weren't awake or he would feel guilty and that concern dissipated when he noticed that you weren't lying on the couch as he had found you so many times.

Spencer needed to shower so he could somehow wash off the stress of the case and wash off the dirt he'd picked up during his stay in the woods. Fortunately the shower was far enough from the room to go unnoticed and he took his time, enjoying the hot water running all over his body, considerably relaxing the tension he had in his muscles. Once he left, Reid took a cotton pajama that he had packed in the suitcase, it had colored stripes on the white fabric and you had given it to him for a birthday many years ago. The fabric was already worn by time, but he loved the calming feeling it gave him, and the smell of your favorite fabric softener on it made him feel like he was right at home.

When he opened the door of your room he found you in bed, sleeping so peacefully that he felt some envy, but at the same time he smiled tenderly. He and you were very different when it came to sleeping: he couldn't fall asleep if he wasn't tucked in, he had a hard time doing it alone, he constantly woke up to go to the bathroom and he tossed and turned throughout the night. You, on the other hand, could sleep soundly as soon as your body touched the mattress, fully exposed, and you would stay in the same pose on your left side unless he asked you to reposition yourself. You slept on the inner side for reasons of practicality, because when he was late or had to leave due to an emergency it was easier for him to jump out of bed, and you always did it hugging a stuffed dog that Spencer had won for you in a fair.

Many people would think that getting married at 21 was crazy and even a couple of gossip told you that you were making a mistake or that it would only take a few months for one of you to file for divorce, but four long years had passed since then. Not everything was perfect, because there were arguments as in all marriages, and to that we had to add the constant stress that Spencer's work had, not only for him but also for you. Although, somehow, you had made it work and he always found the time to dedicate himself only to you, because he knew that you deserved it. You had a good position in a real estate company, nothing risky, and with hours that were always respected.

You two preferred not to think about it, especially him, but there was a degree of codependency in your relationship that you hoped wouldn't escalate into something sick or dangerous. You had had a difficult life, Spencer continued to have a difficult life, but little by little you two opened up to each other and the communication helped comfort what sometimes still tormented you. Reid had saved you from committing many idiots and if it wasn't for you, he didn't know how he could have faced situations or ghosts from his past. You were his reason for living and your apartment was that safe place where he could isolate himself from the whole world and live his own utopia. With you there was no suffering, there were no traumas, no crimes, no coworkers who ignored him... and when that existed, you were there to hug him tight and tell him that everything would be fine.

Honestly, the fear of becoming a burden plagued him frequently, but the two of you were trying to work through your own insecurities so that you could carry on your marriage in peace.

As soon as he felt his body touch the surface of the mattress, he moaned calmly and finally allowed himself to feel all the tiredness of the day, sure that it no longer mattered because he was in the right place to rest. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, enjoying the softness on which he was lying, until your gentle breathing next to him caught his attention. He hated waking you up during the night, but now more than ever he needed to feel you close and he considered that with such a heavy sleep you had his touch would hardly be noticeable. He moved enough to be able to wrap his arm around your entire waist and bury his head in your skin at the nape of the neck, but against all odds he heard you inhale heavily as a sign that you had noticed the grip.

“Spence?”

"I didn't want to wake you up" he apologized, as he kissed you on the shoulder to mask his remorse, although to be honest a part of him was very grateful to be able to talk to you.

"I wasn't asleep" you lied uselessly, because your voice betrayed your state of sleepiness. Careful not to let him let go of you, you turned around to face him and he smiled from ear to ear when even in the dark he noticed that you were smiling weakly at him "Did you just get there?"

“Things got difficult. We came back by train”

“Oh…” you hummed sympathetically. Your hands traveled deftly up to his face and you stroked with your thumbs, watching him turn to putty between your fingers. “Did you even have dinner? Let me make you something"

"No, no, darling," he hastened to say, stopping you from getting up to go to the kitchen. Honestly, hunger was the least of Spencer's worries at that moment, his mind was longing to receive your body heat and with some luck multiple kisses on the face and lips "Just stay here with me"

If in normal circumstances it was already difficult to deny your husband something, it was even worse when he whispered in that pleading tone, so you simply nodded and snuggled closer against him. His long golden hair tickled your nose and you realized that Spencer had used your conditioner again, even though he had promised not to do it again, but you didn't mind at all.

"You feel good?" you asked softly, as one of your hands traveled to the back of his head to stroke his head and you maneuvered your other arm for him to use as a pillow.

He was very protective as a husband, perhaps motivated by the fear that some of the horrible things he saw daily at his work would happen to you, and he constantly looked out for your well-being, but on those occasions when you took the time to pamper him after a terrible day, he swore that it was you who took care of him from the lurking monsters.

"I feel better now that I'm here," he confessed, the words slightly muffled by his lips on your skin. "I missed you."

"Oh, I know you did" you joked, now a little more lucid than at the beginning of the conversation. You were very interested in him being able to fall asleep, because once he did it, all you had to do was close your eyes to imitate him, and how to blame you? With that strong grip and his legs intertwined with yours, you felt total tranquility "I missed you too”

Your hand continued to untangle strands of his hair in an attempt to relax him and you stayed that way for a few minutes, until he broke the silence. You didn't understand at first, so you gently whispered in your ear for him to repeat it.

"I missed our nine o'clock show" it was inevitable to let out a soft laugh at the apparent priority issue of your beloved and you kissed him on the top of the head before answering.

"Yes, it is sad"

"Remember how I told you that Anita and the butler were having an affair?" he asked and you hummed affirmatively “Did I get it right?”

"Almost. She was having it with the gardener” you heard a defeated sigh under your chin and your smile only increased “Now you owe me five bucks”

“Too bad, I don't have cash with me,” he muttered, pretending to be genuinely pained. “Would you accept another method of payment?” There was no need to ask what his suggestion was from him, the gentle kiss he placed on your shoulder spoke for itself.

“Yes, but there is a problem with the currency conversion. Five dollars equals approximately…” you took a moment to think of a suitable number and when you got it a smile escaped your lips “five hundred kisses”

“Five hundred kisses?!” Reid squealed from his hiding place in your chest "That's a huge debt"

"It is"

"I better start now huh?" he said flirtatiously. He started with quick kisses on whatever section of skin was within his reach that made you laugh out loud, then he continued up your neck with more careful caresses and by the time he reached your face the kisses were slow and so gentle that you felt die. But he wasn't so merciful to you, so his kisses touched almost your entire face except your lips. "Do you keep track?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you keep track of how many kisses I gave you?”

"Oh no, I guess you'll have to start over," you whispered, as you felt his smile against your skin as he planted a kiss right on your jaw "Or if you give me one on the lips, we're even”

Spencer didn't think twice to finally indulge your wishes and it was such a warm and deep kiss that you felt like a newlywed again. There were bad times, yes, but it was these moments that made you know that facing the rest was worth it.

"I love you very much, you know that?" he sighed, still with his eyes closed and his forehead resting on yours. You lifted your head a little just so you could steal another chaste kiss from him.

"I love you more, baby"

Spencer settled back, now lying entirely on your chest and you wrapped both arms around his waist while your hands traced uneven patterns on the striped fabric on his back. You asked your ear to please get some sleep and the soft beating of your heart was enough to calm him down until exhaustion overcame him.

If there was a perfect place in the world, he knew that it was between your arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #emily prentiss #david rossi

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨

🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...

🍄 Word Count: 2084

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: N/A

🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)

“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.

You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.

“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.

Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.

Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.

The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.

“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.

“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.

You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.

“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.

“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.

“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”

“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”

“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.

“Yes, why- Oh.”

“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.

“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.

It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.

As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.

John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?

You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.

You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.

As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock oneshot #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes oneshot #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock imagine #request #reqs open #requests open #anon ask

[bad268]

Hi can I request Brock Purdy bcs he just look so hawt when the NFL posted that the 49ers are in the building

This picture did something to me pls, I want a fluffy but really hawt smut

Iykyk 😉

In The Building (Brock Purdy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/NFL

Requested: Clearly (Happy Super Bowl yall)

Warnings: none

Pronouns: Second POV (You/your)

W.C. 691

Summary: Pre-game anxiety requires pre-game reassurance

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~

“You do realize that this is the Super Bowl and not the Met Gala, right?” You complained from your spot on the bed. Brock had woken up impossibly early. From nerves, excitement or just his mental alarm not letting him back to sleep, you will never know. He decided now was the best time to frantically look through his suitcase for his outfit. You groaned as he kept mumbling to himself, causing you to sit up and throw a pillow at him. It hit him in the head, and he finally looked over at you. “You’re walking through a tunnel and then putting on your gear. Do you really need to fuss this much about it?”

“It’s the Super Bowl, and it’s Vegas,” He sighed as he gently threw the pillow back as he stood up and walked to the bed. He sat back on his side as he pulled you into his chest, just needing something, someone, to hold onto. “They’re gonna tear into me unless I look perfect.”

“I swear, no one cares,” You laughed as you rolled yourself up to sit on his lap. “It’s clothes and as long as you’re covered, I do not think they will care. For god’s sake, where is the guy who casually wore a stained t-shirt and jeans to the NFC Championship game? Huh? Where is the carefree attitude? You’re letting everything pile before the pile has even started.”

“It’s stressful being the quarterback, and it’s stressful trying to find something acceptable for the Super Bowl,” he laughed. You gave him a short kiss before standing up and walking to the closet where you hung up a suit you thought he would look good in. Before you could get to the closet, you stopped and pointed at his suitcase. “What about it?”

“Did you bring your entire closet with you?” You accused as you started to put the clothes back in the case. “Do you not remember me packing your suit because you said you didn’t want to stress about it later. This whole conversation could have been avoided, Brock.”

“Oh, I forgot in all the chaos,” He admitted as he stood up to help you clean it up.

“No, go put the suit on. I’ll worry about this while you get in the mindset for the game. The last thing your team needs is a distracted quarterback,” you lectured, pushing him toward the bathroom. “We’ll go get breakfast when you're done and head to the stadium.”

He just needed to calm down and think of it less as a Super Bowl and more a more of a normal game. Otherwise, he would overthink everything. Relatively speaking, it did not take long for him to get in the zone.

And you were off.

Vegas was not known for having a lot of good breakfast places, but the hotel you were staying at had a decent spread. There was stuff that you liked, stuff that he liked, and there was no need to compromise. It was fairly lax so there were not a lot of people around. You both were able to sit down and enjoy the calm before the storm that would be inevitable at the stadium.

When you finished up, it was already time to leave. The car was in front of the hotel, ready to pick up some of the key players and take them to the stadium.

When the car pulled up to the tunnel, all of the other players and their significant others climbed out and were practically flash banged from the paparazzi’s cameras. You two hung back a minute letting the hectic news die down before you faced the masses.

“Are you ready to make your debut?” You asked, grabbing his hand in reassurance as you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ll do great, you know.”

“Let’s do this thing,” he said strongly before letting out a breath and moving to step out of the car, holding out a hand to you. You walked hand-in-hand down the tunnel through the flashing lights toward the hectic locker room

“And the San Francisco 49ers are in the building.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#brock purdy x reader #brock purdy #brock x reader #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl playoffs #nfl football #nfl #national football league #san francisco 49ers #49ers #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Oof that Daniel and his best friend's wife hit the spot for me. I know it has a happy ending but if by any chance you'll come up with ideas for pt. 2, I'll be there reading it

NOT A REQUEST (you already have enough of those)

His Best Man || DR3 {2}

Summary: Two months later you uncover another lie James told you. (Just a little thought I had and decided to share) Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, pregnancy, smut WC: 2.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Song: Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts

“Did you lie to me?” Your broken voice was hoarse as you sat crumpled on the cold stone tiles in Daniel's bathroom. A thousand thoughts raced through your head so fast you couldn’t cling to one long enough to make sense of what was happening.

“You woke me up for this shit?” James growled and you heard a soft feminine voice asking him who was on the phone, but it no longer hurt.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the impossible that was somehow staring you in the face. “The appointment I missed…did you lie?”

The silence dragged on for too long to be honest and you shook your head roughly, displacing the tears that clung to your bottom lashes. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he admitted in a quiet murmur. “It was easier to believe it was your fault.”

“You’re a rotten bastard.”

“How did you find out?” You could picture the confusion as he sat up in bed and heard the lamp click on. “Unless…”

You hung up the phone before he could voice the connection he had made and dropped it at your side to pull your knees to your chest. That was how Daniel found you when he crashed into the room with his phone barely hanging from his fingertips, a look of dismay on his unusually somber face. He hadn’t even changed out of his fireproofs after finishing free practice on the famous Monaco street track.

“You said you couldn’t have kids.” The accusation and hurt was clear in his tone as he sank down the wall opposite you, his eyes unable to look away from the tests scattered at your feet.

You too stared at what you thought was a miracle only to find out that it too was a lie. “I got caught in traffic on the way to the appointment at the doctors. James said that his tests came back fine but mine were the problem. That’s when our relationship changed, when he started to pull away. I thought it was because of me!”

Daniel dragged his eyes away from the pink plus signs and narrowed them at you. “Why didn’t you double check?”

The back of your head thumped against the vanity but you didn’t feel anything as you screwed your eyes shut against the sight of his distrust. “He was my husband, I thought I could trust him. I don’t need you reminding me what a fucking mistake that was!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m just a little shocked, okay. Fuck. A baby?”

You peeked out of your lashes to see him reaching for one of the tests, holding it up to the light despite the lines being clear as day. “Apparently so.”

He picked up the other two and blinked a few times as he waited for the punchline to come, but it never did. “Should we get hitched?” 

“Wow, Danny, just wow,” you muttered as you pulled yourself up from the floor and massaged your leg that had gone numb from sitting for so long. 

He leapt to his feet and caught you by the hips before you could leave the bathroom, but after a split second he moved his hands higher to your waist. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m not going to marry you because I’m pregnant, this isn’t the 1920’s, and my divorce isn’t even finalised.” You unlatched his arms from your body and stepped into the bedroom that overlooked Monte Carlo, grabbing your suitcase from under the bed to begin packing your clothes.

“What are you doing? You don’t have to go.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice as he fought the urge to drag your suitcase away from your hands. “Stay, please.”

“You didn’t ask for this and I had long given up on the idea, so I think we could both do with some time to think. You should be focusing on your race this weekend.”

Unable to resist any longer, he stepped between you and the suitcase and placed his hands on your shoulders as he bent his knees so he could look you in the eyes. “I may not have asked for it but I’m not some fucking bogan, I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I’ll be right by your side.”

“Don’t,” you whispered as you looked away from the sincerity in his eyes. “Don’t make promises on a whim. You might mean it now but…”

Daniel didn’t let you break eye contact for long as he followed your gaze, a small smile playing at his lips. “When have you known me to change my mind, love?” 

His smile grew at the pause as you mentally ran through all the years of knowing him unable to find an example. You couldn’t count the number of times James had changed his mind, but Daniel? He had none. 

Your answer was reserved and nearly silent but somehow he heard and his hands slipped down your body before cupping your ass and picking you up. His laugh warmed your neck as he buried his face in the crook while you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“I never thought about having kids,” he admitted as he kissed your racing pulse. “It’s kind of exciting.”

You looked around the high end apartment and lingered on the balcony that opened out off the bedroom that was 15 floors off the ground. “It’s kind of terrifying. There is some serious baby-proofing needed to raise one here.”

Daniel chuckled and shook his head as he laid you gently down on the bed and continued his soft kisses across your body. “Then pick a house, baby, any house. Whatever you want, we’ll make it ours.”

“Just slow down a minute,” you panted as he brush the strap of your dress aside and sealed his lips over the swell of your breast.

“But I want you,” he groaned as he propped himself up on his knees between your legs.

You reached for his race suit hanging at his hips and tugged the zip down further so you could find the hem of the fireproof shirt. “No, not that. I meant the plans and grand gestures. You can definitely continue what you were doing.”

“I like grand gestures,” he said as he helped you to pull the shirt over his head and you saw a sheen of sweat coating his skin from the sprint he had made to get home. “From surprise tattoos to buying a house fit for a family, don’t stop me now.”

“How can I when you talk like that?” You pouted as you remembered your promise to him. “I won’t be able to get your tattoo for a long time.”

Daniel’s short beard rubbed across your shoulder, tickling your skin as he shook his head. “We have more important things to think of now but I’ll get it on you one day, baby.”

Your thoughts turned to everything those important things could be from finding a doctor and midwife to just how insane the whole situation was. Daniel could see you were drifting away as you got lost in your mind and knew one sure way to bring you back to the present.

“Eyes on me, love,” he ordered as he pushed your dress up and hooked his fingers into your panties to slide them down your legs. “Forget about everything except this right here.”

His fingers teased you as he slowly dragged them through your folds, feeling your body respond so quickly to his touch. You squirmed beneath him when he smirked and teased you again, almost but never quite going where you wanted him most.

“Please,” you whined when he missed your clit for a third time.

“Just checking you were still focused on me,” he chuckled. His eyes held yours as he curled two thick digits into your cunt and pressed his thumb to your clit, making your back arch off the bed at the sudden sensations of his ministrations.

“I’m always focused on you,” you moaned, reaching for his race suit to push it down his hips. “Now please fuck me…”

Daniel’s smirk grew as he shoved his boxers down his thighs and nudged yours apart wider. “You’ve been so needy lately, is this the hormones? ‘Cause I could get used to this.” He teased you once more as he fisted his thick cock and stroked the long length before tapping the head on your sensitive clit. “Are you sure you want me to fuck you?” he asked as he pressed himself to your entrance, your body slowly stretching to welcome him before he stopped an inch in.

“Yes! Please, Danny,” you whined, before taking matters into your own hands. You wrapped your legs around his hips and dug your heels into his ass, pushing him forward, and you both moaned as he filled you completely.

“That was naughty,” he chuckled in your ear. “If you want to be in control so badly, here you go.”

He caged you in his arms and rolled onto his back so you were on top. Tucking his arms behind his head, he winked and made himself comfortable. “Go on, baby, take what you need.”

Planting your hands on his chest, you accepted the invitation with the roll of your hips as your eyes fluttered shut.

“He really is a cunt,” Daniel sighed as he lay beside you, his phone on silent after all notifications he had received overnight. The sun was beginning to leak through the gaps in the curtain and your eyes were weary from the lack of sleep. It worried you to know Danny was going to be driving in a few short hours when he hadn’t rested for long enough.

After James called Daniel to taunt him over the news that you were pregnant, and that as the father he wasn’t even the first to know, the asshole had then told every news outlet globally it seemed. He hadn’t stopped there though, he had spread the news on every social media platform he had, ensuring there would be no privacy for either of you.

“That was your friend,” you pointed out, only to earn an unamused side glance.

“That was your husband.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“Very.” Daniel rubbed his eyes and groaned as he stretched his arms out before pulling you into his embrace. “But it was also the truth. We can’t change our pasts, baby.”

He grabbed his phone from the night stand and avoided the apps with growing numbers of notifications in the corners. He barely had to look to find Spotify as his thumb hit the icon purely on muscle memory. 

“No, please, it’s too early for country,” you groaned as you saw him selecting a playlist and song. 

“Nobody can tell a story like a good ol’ country song, Roo. It’s like they can somehow bottle up everything I’m feeling and say it for me. Just listen,” he said softly as he hit play. The apartment came to life with the speakers that were built into the ceiling, the sound wholly encompassing as you curled into his arms and listened to what he wanted to say.

I set out on a narrow way many years ago. Hoping I would find true love along the broken road. But I got lost a time or two, wiped my brow and kept pushing through. I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you.

Daniel hummed along to the tune, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the cushions and you watched it rock gently side to side. He was always at peace when he listened to the genre and even with the chaos he had woken to he was able to let it saturate his soul and calm him. So you nestled in closer to rest your head on his chest and let his heartbeat join the chorus.

Every long lost dream led me to where you are. Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars, pointing me on my way into your loving arms. This much I know is true, that God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.

Daniel’s lips pressed to your forehead softly and you felt them whispering along as tears stung your eyes, “God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.” 

I think about the years I spent just passin' through. I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you. But you just smile and take my hand, you've been there, you understand. It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true.

“You’re breaking my heart, cowboy,” you whispered as you idly traced the line of hair down his navel.

He smiled as he wiped away the dampness on your cheeks before his large hands cradled your face. “Then let me fix it.”

Request: Daniel’s reaction

Tagging: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @zendayabelova @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover @formulas-bitch @faithm120601 @ynbutbetter @allabouthappiness @simpingcorner @chasing-liberosis @jspitwall @sociallyinepludi @ru-kru

#daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 rpf #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic

[yokohamapound]

BSD Boys With a Nervous Flier S/O

For Amulet! <3

(I added Chuuya for me. :P)

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: NSFW jokes/references, fear of flying.

Dazai Osamu

Don’t bother trying to hide it. Dazai can pick up on every tiny little tell, so unless you’ve got the world’s best poker face, he’ll figure it out before you say a single word. It’s all there, the shrunken pupils when he shows you the tickets, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants when you’re booking the taxi to the airport, the harsh, unsteady breathing when you’re queueing to check in. 

For once, wisely, he drops the double suicide jokes. The last thing you need to think about right now is you or him dying, and he’s that much of an ass. Most of the time.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning in and whispering in your ear so it doesn’t carry to the other passengers in the boarding queue. “Guess what?”

You frown, distracted momentarily, and look at him. “What?”

His eyes glitter with mischief, and his smile widens into a full blown smirk. “You know how your ears sometimes pop when the cabin pressure changes? They say you should have chew gum or suck on candy.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. Dazai leans down to look into your eyes, grinning. 

“I don’t have any candy, but I’ve got something you can su—oww!”

He deserved to have his foot trodden on, really. Dazai might pout, but internally he’s smug that his plan to distract you worked. He’s got plenty more like that up his sleeve. 

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Flying with Fyodor is something different entirely. With the weight (and wallet) of the Decay of Angels behind him, he would never fly on a commercial airline. Normally he doesn’t care much - he’ll take a helicopter or some other type of solo plane. If he’s taking his precious myshka though, he’s flying in style. 

Naturally, he already knows about your fear of flying.

You can take comfort in the fact that Fyodor has literally already thought of everything. There are multiple contingency plans for any conceivable emergency onboard the jet. He has a backup helicopter. There are parachutes. There are backup parachutes. 

All you have to do is get dolled up and sit pretty on one of the luxurious recliner seats, being fed little tidbits of fruit and cake and sipping champagne. Fyodor has his laptop out, watching the endless screeds of incomprehensible information, one resting on your thigh, thumb tracing circles into your warm, soft skin. 

If you want a sedative, he’ll allow it, though his tone is subtly disapproving. He doesn’t like seeing you passed out (unless he’s been the one to drug you or exhaust you, naturally.) Still, if it makes you feel better.

He has…other methods to distract you however. Ones you’ll learn all about when he orders the cabin crew out of the main seating area and draws the curtains. You’ll be flying so high you might not even notice you’ve landed. 

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo has an easy solution to all your fears and anxieties—he’s such a baby that you have to look after him and you just won’t have time to worry about the plane going down, because you’ll be trying to convince him he can’t cram a whole gumball machine in his suitcase.

“It’ll fit!”

“You know it won’t! It’s physically impossible. You’re supposed to be a genius!”

“Well, I'm on vacation!”

He’s exuberant and excited to wander through Duty Free and buy all the varieties of chocolate and snacks they sell. Ranpo isn’t getting on that plane without snacks. Have you eaten plane food? That’s simply not going to cut it for the World’s Greatest Detective. 

It’s almost…calculated, the way he seems to rush off to a new thing every time your jitters start coming back. Your heart starts to race, your mouth goes dry, and then you notice Ranpo is gone from your side again. 

By the time you get onto the actual plane, you’re lowkey exhausted, and he still looks as smug as ever, his bag of chips rustling as he snacks in his seat. He opens his eyes, looks around the plane with that sharp, green gaze, then shrugs and settles against the backrest. 

“Nothing wrong with the plane, we’ll be fine,” he declares, tossing a chip into his mouth. “Do you think they have Ramune?”

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya is a well-travelled guy due to his position as a Port Mafia executive and enforcer. It seems as if he gets sent abroad now and then to look after the mafia’s foreign interests and contracts. Koyo seems to stay back more, acting as Mori’s advisor, so it’s Chuuya who racks up the airmiles. He generally travels first or business class, because he’s not about to be back in the cattle runs—sorry, economy. 

He’s so used to it by now that booking the flights, packing, and getting to the airport are a breeze. It’s so mundane to him that he’s a little surprised to find out how frightened you are. He has to admit, it’s kinda cute. 

He lounges next to you in your first class seats, a glass of wine in one hand and your hip in the other, cuddling you against his side. 

“Dollface, what’re you shakin’ for?” he teases, poking you in the ribs. “You forgettin’ who you’re flyin’ with?”

Oh. That’s right. Mr. Gravity Master himself. 

“So if something happens, you could stop the plane falling?” you ask, almost in disbelief. 

He scoffs. “What do you take me for? You’re gonna be on the safest flight in existence. They should be paying me to fly.”

#Yokohama Pound #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Nakahara Chuuya #Dazai Osamu #Fyodor Dostoevsky bsd #Edogawa Ranpo #Dazai x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #Ranpo x Reader #Chuuya x Reader

[rebouks]

Ivan stared at the contents of his suitcase blankly, barely paying attention to what he was packing as he flicked the zip back and forth. “I didn’t think you’d be here.” He remarked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I was waiting for you-.. where’s Pixie?” Bruno asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer. “Oscar’s.” “Are you coming back, or..?” Bruno mirrored Ivan’s fidgeting, picking at the fluff on his old joggers. “I don’t know, I need t’think for a while-.. I’m goin’ away with Tilda n’ Mia for a couple weeks n’ all.”

Ivan snapped his attention back upon his luggage. It would’ve been easier if Bruno hadn’t been home, he was bound to forget something now, distracted as he was.

“Ivan, I-…” Ivan interrupted Bruno before he could continue, “Explainin’ ain’t gonna change anythin’ is it?”

Bruno fell silent, struck with inertia at the edge of the bed. He should’ve explained, pleaded, threw himself at Ivan’s feet and promised he’d never return to Oasis Springs-.. but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“I’m probably gonna find someplace else when I get back-.. dunno what you wanna do with the house, but I don’t want it. Y’could buy me out, I guess, or we could sell it.” Ivan filled the void with practicalities that Bruno didn’t want to envision just yet.

“We don’t have to decide anything right now.” He offered, instead. Ivan shook his head, “I ain’t gonna change my mind.” Bruno thought as much, but he still couldn’t help himself from adding, “I still love you, for what it’s worth.”

Ivan paused for an excruciating moment before sighing, deflating Bruno’s glimmer of superfluous hope, “I ain’t sure what it’s worth anymore…”

“It’s not the same as before.” Bruno pleaded, “Kaden’s-…” Ivan rose to his feet, dismissing Bruno’s words with a wave of his hand, “I don’t want nothin’ t’do with any of ‘em-.. apparently, that includes you.”

Bruno tugged at Ivan’s wrist before he could leave, manoeuvring himself between him and the door; his unusually calm, cold shoulder cut far deeper than Bruno expected it would.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with them-.. no one’s in any danger.” Ivan huffed disbelievingly, sidestepping Bruno’s efforts to stop him from leaving, “Keep tellin’ yourself that.” “It’s different with-…”

Ivan finally lost his air of composure, cutting Bruno off mid-sentence, “Was it not excitin’ enough for ya?  D’ya not feel alive unless y’pushin’ folk around, fuckin’ someone over-.. is doin’ whatever y’please the only thing that gets your blood pumpin’? Does it make life worth livin’?” Bruno blinked as Ivan confronted him, not quite expecting such a succinct breakdown of all his supposed failings.

Ivan’s steady gaze faltered somewhat once he’d said his piece though; his brief flash of anger replaced by sadness as he asked, “All this time-.. why’d y’even pretend, B?”

Bruno avoided Ivan’s gaze for a moment, unable to form a response; he hadn’t always been pretending, but as much as he hated to admit it, Ivan wasn’t too far off the mark. He didn’t particularly enjoy the lifestyle that he’d described, but it felt a hell of a lot more natural than trying to fit into this one; he wasn’t made for domestic bliss, he didn’t make Ivan happy, nor was he. They both knew he was playing pretend by now, but letting go was easier said than done, no matter how much you loved someone. In fact, love only made things more complicated.

Ivan pulled away from Bruno, punching through the silence than hung thick between them, “I just need some space, okay? Do whatever y’want with yours.” Bruno tugged desperately at Ivan’s shirt as he turned away, “Wait-.. can we just talk about everything when you get back?”

Ivan sighed morosely, offering a weak shrug, “Sure, let’s prolong the inevitable-.. what’s a few more weeks?”

Bruno hung his head as another rogue tear escaped down the side of his nose. Ivan’s demeanour felt so wearisome, so final-.. but Bruno didn’t want to let go, not that it felt fair to try and convince him to stay either.

“Don’t fuckin’ cry, B! Don’t act like this wasn’t on you!” Ivan spat, his uneven tone betraying the lump that resided in his own throat.

Bruno stuck his fingers beneath his glasses, jamming them into his eye sockets; he thought Ivan’s familiar anger would’ve consoled him, but it didn’t.

“I tried, okay? I really did-.. n’ you did too, I know y’did…” Ivan added a little more softly, as though he understood; as though it wasn’t really Bruno’s fault, like he wasn’t truly angry at him-.. even though it wasn't true.

Bruno nodded; the tips of his fingers still pressed firmly against his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the pain from overcoming him completely.

“Bruno, don’t…”

Ivan tried to pry Bruno’s fingers away from his eyes, wordlessly begging him not to make this harder than it already was.

He acquiesced, dropping his hands to his sides as Ivan gently caressed his cheek, his eyes brimming with a million different emotions at once-.. but that was Ivan, and that was the problem.

He hated, loved and felt everything with intense fervour, unapologetically wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see; a heart so full of love and passion that Bruno felt inadequate in comparison. He couldn’t reciprocate any of it the way Ivan deserved; it would never be enough.

Hollow and empty in contrast, Bruno could never hope to give as much as Ivan was worthy of, and he was worth the world-.. but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pretend.

Maybe just one last time…

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #ivan harper #bruno clarke #i hate it hereeee #i'm packing my bags and leaving too #i'm DONE #😭😭😭

[dark-vader28]

New Girl

pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader

summary: Reader and her family are new in town, the heffleys invite them over for dinner as a welcome, blah blah blah, rodrick offers to give reader a drum lesson and makes a fool of himself doing everything in his power to impress you

warnings: swearing? tooth-rotting fluff. pls this is my first fic so im sorry if this is terrible, not rlly proofread

Your family had just moved in to Plainview, settled in a cozy home on the corner of the street. Once summer ended, you’d attend Crossland High School as a senior while your younger brother, Jake, would be starting 7th grade at Westmore Middle School. You dreaded school, even in the years you lived in your hometown, surrounded by your friends. Now that you were the new girl, you were sure it’d be all the more worse.

Your younger brother, Jake, on the other hand, made company so easy and made it seem like starting a conversation was as easy as knowing your own name. Sure, he wasn’t very popular, but he never went a year without a new friend or even a whole new group. You were sure he’d already be making friends on the walk to school.

While you were staring at your packed bag that you refused to unpack, in denial that your family had really moved, when the doorbell rang, echoing through the still house. Your attention was diverted and you snuck out your room, quietly walking to the railing by the stairs where you could have a clear view of the front door. You crouched down, hoping you wouldn’t be seen as you watched your mother strut to the door. The door swung open and there was a friendly smile waiting behind, holding some tupperware in her arms.

You were watching and listening, hardly moving or even breathing as they talked. The woman at the door, whose name you heard was Susan Heffley, was welcoming your family to Plainview. You heard them suggest a dinner this weekend so they could meet each other’s families; your mother had mentioned yours and your brother’s age which coincidentally were the same as the Heffleys. You let out a groan as your mom agreed to the dinner.

Mrs. Heffley left a few moments later, wishing your mother another welcome with a gentle smile before walking out the door. Surely she seemed nice but having to attend to dinner with a family you didn’t know was a long dreaded thought of yours.

The rest of the week seemed to go slow as you anticipated the inevitable dinner. You were also attempting to accept the fact that you were truly stuck in Plainview now unless you decided to move out and away when you turned 18, but you knew the thought was pointless considering it meant you’d have to be prepared by then.

When Saturday rolled around, you had finally unpacked your bag, trying to be a little more positive about living here. But that was a lie. Truth was your mom hounded you about living out of a suitcase and told you off for not unpacking. Not wanting to get in any more trouble, you hurriedly unpacked that night, throwing a pair of jeans and some shirt on your bed in the process for you to wear to dinner.

It was 5:50 and you were scrambling to finish up the last of your makeup and hair. If there was one thing your dad hated, it was being late, and you would likely be the cause of it. You had postponed getting ready for so long, procrastinating until there were few minutes to spare. You weren’t sure why you cared so much about your appearance, assuming that you would never talk to that family after tonight.

Jake’s fist pounded on your bathroom door, causing you to jump from the unexpected burst of noise. You nearly burnt yourself with the straightener you were holding. You quickly set it down and swung the door open. You were ready to scold your younger brother but he spoke before you.

“Mom and Dad said we’re leaving now, why aren’t you ready?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away from the door, closing it.

“Just one more minute!” you shouted from the other side of the door. He knocked on the door a few more times and when you refused to answer, he gave up, grumbling something under his breath as he ran down the stairs.

A minute turned into two, then three, and then it was 5:59 and your dad was knocking on the door. You turned off the straightener and unplugged it, checking your reflection one last time before hurrying out the bathroom.

Considering how close your houses were, your family walked to the Heffley’s house. Right before the clock turned 6:01, your family was at the door, ringing the bell. You heard a few hushed murmurs from the other side of the door before the same familiar face that had come to your house before swung open the door.

Mrs. Heffley welcomed you in, closing the door behind you. A man, who you could only assume was Mr. Heffley, stood next to Mrs. Heffley, extending out a hand towards your father, then your mother.

“Frank Heffley,” the man introduced, smiling politely. He shook your hand and then Jake’s as Mrs. Heffley introduced herself and the littlest brother, Manny, that she held in her arms.

Then, bounding down the stairs comes a boy, somewhere between 11-13. He comes to a stop next to Mrs. Heffley and wears a nervous smile.

“And his is my second eldest son, Greg,” Mrs. Heffley beams. One after another, you all shake his hand, introducing yourselves. “Greg, you and Jake are both in seventh grade so maybe you’ll make good friends,” Mrs. Heffley comments. Jake smiles a little and Greg is hesitant to return the smile, unsure if he likes your brother.

Mrs. Heffley turns to Greg, whispering something private to him while your father exchanges pleasantries with his father, earning a warm smile from your mother. Greg shrugged at whatever Mrs. Heffley had said to him and she frowned.

It wasn’t long before another set of footsteps came running down the steps, this time a tall boy with dark, messed and fluffed up hair, wearing some graphic tee tucked only in the front behind a pair of dark jeans. He looked your age and from the conversation you had overheard earlier that week, you knew he was your age. But… what did that matter? You had no intent on talking to this family again.

“And this is Rodrick,” Mrs. Heffley introduced, not sounding nearly as enthusiastic as she had been when introducing Greg and Manny. The smile she wore seemed fake as she glared and Rodrick and nudged him. He looked confused, shooting her a look before he noticed my father’s outstretched hand. He shook my parents’ hands as we were all introduced once more, thankfully for the last time. You seemed to catch Rodrick’s eye, and your name was the only one he seemed to remember. He repeated your name in his head, making sure it stuck in his memory. The other names faded from his mind as your families walked to the dining table. A few extra chairs had been added to fit your family, which sat on one side as the Heffley family sat on the other. You faced Rodrick with Jake on your right and your mother on your left. This was already the longest evening of your time in Plainview.

Mrs. Heffley was bringing a plate of food as your fathers chatted away. Rodrick, Greg, and Jake were quick to pile heaping amounts onto their plates. You were the last to go for food, not expecting to eat much since you didn’t have much of an appetite that night.

The parent side of the table was lively, laughter filling the air while it was nothing but the tap or light scrape of the metal forks against the plate on your side of the table. Jake didn’t seem to mind, happily eating away at his food, nearly to the point of asking for seconds. You had picked at the homemade food, taking a few bites ever so often. It smelt amazing, almost giving you your appetite back.

But the worst part of the night wasn’t how they were strangers you were having dinner with, or how empty and silent your half of the table was, but rather how you kept finding Rodrick’s eyes. They were awkward glances where you’d both be caught looking at one another and you’d both avert your gaze as quickly as it had been found. It kickstarted your heart every time, sending a wave of embarrassment flooding through you which was shown through in the heat rising to your face. You were praying someone on your end of the table would feel the silence and ease the tension but with every glance you and Rodrick stole, the atmosphere felt heavier.

The buzz from the other side of the table faded, leaving a few painful moments of entire silence before your dad spoke, speaking to Rodrick this time.

“Was that your van outside?” your dad inquired, hoping to spark up a conversation after noticing the deafening silence.

Rodrick stole another look at you on his way to address your father. He nodded, shifting in his seat a little. The silence was beginning to make its dreaded reappearance and in a desperate attempt to prevent it, you foolishly decided to keep the conversation rolling.

“What’s the name painted on it?” you asked, and Rodrick’s eyes had quickly fallen away from your father to meet you.

“Löded Diper, the name of my band,” Rodrick replied proudly. You attempted to repress a smile. The name was ridiculous and it had you holding back a laugh but something about the confidence and the happiness in his tone made you forget the name and brought a grin to your lips.

“A band, huh? What do you play?” you questioned, shifting in your seat, leaning forward so your attention was nowhere but him. His lips curved up into a smile as his movement mimicked yours, facing you. You could see Susan and your mom smile at each other, gushing at how suddenly you and Rodrick were getting along.

“Drums,” he answered, and the other conversations resumed from the parent side of the table. Greg and Jake were silently watching you and Rodrick talk, both shocked that you had even acknowledged him. Jake knew you weren’t one to engage like this upon first meeting someone, especially not with someone like Rodrick. And Greg was sure you were way out of Rodrick’s league, whether it was from a relationship or even friendship standpoint. Greg and Jake seemed to read each other’s minds and started talking, filling the once silent half of the room with chatter.

“I always wanted to learn drums,” you commented sheepishly, breaking the eye contact you had been holding. He seemed to light up at that, sitting up a little taller.

“I could teach you,” he blurted out, rather loudly. Everyone seemed to glance at him for a moment before ignoring it and resuming their conversations. You found his gaze again and a smile crept on your lips.

“Really?” you asked. He nodded, and your smile curved into a smirk. “Well, of course, you’d have to been good at drums to teach somebody. Prove you’re any good and maybe then you can teach me.” He paused for a moment before he chuckled, leaning back in his chair as his once awkward demeanor became cocky.

“No no no, i’d be doing you a favour. And i don’t need to prove anything. I’m a great drummer. Right, Greg?” Rodrick asked, hitting Greg on the chest. Greg hadn’t been paying attention but held his chest where he had been hit as he nodded, agreeing to whatever Rodrick had asked. “See?” You rolled your eyes, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth to hide your smile.

“The poor kid is terrified of you,” you chuckled. You turned to Greg this time. “Don’t take any of his shit.” Greg smiled brightly and Rodrick seemed flustered that you hadn’t taken his side.

“Oh, come on, I’ve never done anything to him,” Rodrick defended. He wasn’t a great liar. You glanced at Rodrick before looking back at Greg, raising your eyebrows.

“Is he telling the truth?” you asked. Greg shot a look at Rodrick before laughing and shaking his head. You giggled. Rodrick’s face was turning red and he shoved Greg again.

“Dude! Deny, deny, deny!” Rodrick pestered, pushing Greg. Another laughter escaped your lips.

“So you admit you were lying!” Rodrick froze, his face dropping.

With the exception of Rod, your side of the table was in a fit of laughter. The other side had stilled, admiring how well you seemed to be getting along despite Rodrick being the butt of the joke. He’d felt embarrassed for a moment but hearing your laughter had a bright grin spreading across his face which eventually broke out into laughter. Your stomach and face started to hurt from laughing for too long and you let a few desperate pants as you leaned back in your seat, arms wrapped around your stomach.

Over an hour had passed and your families couldn’t have been getting along better. Greg and Rodrick had told you endless amounts of stories. You learned about The Cheese Touch and the thought of it made you gag, imagining that moldy cheese sitting on the dirty hot blacktop for years.

You asked Rodrick about his band, which he went on and on about until Greg told him to can it. Rodrick might’ve hit him again if Mrs. Heffley hadn’t glanced over at them and scolded Rodrick.

Nearing the end of your time with the Heffleys, you hesitantly asked Rodrick if he was serious about the drum lesson. Sure, your reason was purely because you had always wanted to learn how to play but it seemed as the night went on, your reason was slipping to wanting to see Rodrick again. You didn’t want to have to wait until summer’s end to be with him. He didn’t seem like the greatest influence and you were already sure your parents weren’t too fond of him, but something about him had you drawn towards him like a moth to light.

The Heffleys were escorting your family to the door, chatter still in the air, when you turned to Rodrick. You swallowed the lump in your throat and prayed your voice would come out normal.

“So… about that drum lesson,” you started, not meeting his eyes, but you still saw the smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“Tomorrow?” he suggested quickly, stopping to face you. You looked up, your brow slightly furrowed. “O-or another day. I mean-” He was blabbering, trying not to sound eager or desperate and a grin stretched across your lips.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” you replied. He relaxed, smiling a little.

“Yeah, yeah, cool,” he mumbled, pretending to sound uninterested. You pushed him gently and he couldn’t hide the smile. You rolled your eyes at him, a light laugh falling from your lips. That sound would be stuck in his brain all night as he lied awake, admiring you and feeling like he had dreamed you up cause he wasn’t sure someone like you could be real.

Your family said their goodbyes to the Heffleys as the four of you walked out the door. You headed home, unable to lose the smile of excitement as you thought about your plans for tomorrow. You were so distracted in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your parents talking to you until your brother nudged you to snap you out of your daze.

“Are you alright?” your mom asked worriedly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. You flashed her a smile and nodded. “Well, how was your night then? Did you like them?” Then to your father, “I thought they were nice, don’t you think?” Then back to you. “How was Rodrick? I was a little worried he was a bad influence.” If you hadn’t stepped in, your mom might’ve pestered with you questions until the end of the night.

“It was fun. I had a good time,” you reassured. She smiled as you reached your front steps.

When you finally got back to your room, you reveled in the once dreaded house that seemed like a punishment. You were now filled with anticipation, wishing it would be Sunday already so you’d get to see Rodrick again. Your mind hadn’t decided what was so endearing about him. Maybe it was his desperate, miserable attempts to impress you that made you nearly giggle like a school girl or his dark shaggy hair that fell in messy strands. But you didn’t let yourself think about that for too long, saving yourself from falling down that rabbit hole.

As the cool air from your open window filled the room and the pale moonlight danced across your skin, you were coaxed into sleep, smiling as you thought about your night.

Maybe Plainview wasn’t as bad as you had believed it to be.

————————————————————————————

a/n: well… first fic ig. i’m sorry if this is complete shit. i just felt like i should post something after having this account for 6 months and posting nothing. there are a few requests in my inbox that i do intend on getting to at some point i promise, im just a little slow with all of this 😭 let me know what you think and if you want more of these!

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick x y/n #rodrick fanfic #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk x reader #doawk #devon bostick #my fic

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Five: Cats, Cluelessness, and difficult communication

Max Verstappen x Reader x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris

Chapter Summary: a brief interlude in the off-season before 2020, Sebastian adopts Charles, Max struggles to communicate his feelings, and the reader makes a new friend 👀

Warnings: mentions of SH, reader over does it again, seizure like episode, Lando is awkward, Charles is awkward, Max can't do feeling well yet, jos verstappen

Notes: ah yes, the gang is all here now. I have more action coming in the next part. Maybe also some fluffy stuff. I've been trying to get some blurbs done for what isn't shown in the long chapters because I've had to cut down on some things. I would love to give y'all some content of our duo, trio, or quartet doing something specific.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The end of the season means a bit of a break for the drivers. A chance to spend some time with their families. For her, it means spending time with Sebastian and Hanna in Germany.

The trio had wanted to officially introduce themselves. They knew, but the three barely got a chance to interact all together. It would be nice to catch up anyways.

They are all sat at the dining room table. Even the littles wanted to join in on the conversation. Mostly they spout of randomness as they listen but it’s still endearing to everyone.

The three are sat in a row. Charles far left, the female in the middle and Max on the right if her.

“So I’m curious, who gets the middle of the bed?” Seb laughs at his own question. Hanna playfully hits his shoulder. Charles and Max both look at her. She just rolls her eyes as they both start laughing.

“Are you three moving in together?” Hanna asks this time. Genuine curiosity, unlike her husband.

Charles almost chokes. He hadn’t thought about it.

He’s thankful he’s not the first to answer. “Are you saying you want me out?” It’s a playful question from the girl. She’s smiling like an idiot at the banter.

“Of course not. You’re welcome here forever.”

Max swallows his food then joins the conversation. “We were actually planning on moving some things to my apartment since we’re here.” Now Charles feels out of place. Was he not asked yet for a reason? They hadn’t been together long so it would make sense. “Charles lives in Monaco already so I figured his things would be easier to move.” Max explains.

Now he’s confused. Something Max can clearly see. They make eye contact for a moment and Charles is left a mess. “Unless you don’t want to anymore?”

Charles is shaking his head no at lightning speed. He definitely wants to. He’s tired of living alone and throwing himself pity parties over breaks. Plus, he learns he sleeps better when he's not alone.

~

Moving feels more sentimental to her this time. She had more stuff than when she was fifteen.

Sbeastion offered to let them fly private with him to help move her stuff to Monaco. She wanted to, but it was unnecessary. Most of her belongings that she needs fits into an extra suitcase.

Max and Charles both kept asking her if she had anything else. It was getting on her nerves a bit.

Hanna and Seb had done the same thing when she first came to Germay. Though she had less then. Hanna had taken her to get some new clothes because her t-shirts all had holes in them.

Flights were weird. The first class has two seats for each row, meaning that one of them got to sit somewhere else. They often played musical chairs on the plane because of this.

She'd always had an affinity for even numbers.

It was an interesting dynamic they had created. Charles and Max are barely a month apart, and she's just turned nineteen. They get to do things she can't yet. But she's gentle and knows exactly what they need and is far to gentle for what she's been through.

Charles felt that he was playing catch up with the other two. He was new to this and still new to them. He, however, was the best at communication between the three.

Max, having grown up in an interesting family setting, is aggressive and protective. His communication skills are lacking, but he would do anything to keep his significant others out of harms way.

Today was one of those days that Max was struggling communication wise. It had started after an intense phone call where the other two were attempting (and failing) at deciphering dutch.

She'd offered to sit next to him if he needed consoling, but he decided to sit further away from the two. Leaving them to figure out what happened.

This had brought the thoughts of even numbers. If they were flying with four of them, Max wouldn't be able to mope alone.

"Do you think it was Jos?" Charles asked. His eyes had been on the Dutch for most of the flight.

"I would assume so given that he was speaking Dutch, and he doesn't do that with many people."

Both sigh. Jos had been on Max's ass about moving up into a championship title. Che was ready to have some words, either him, next time they were together, and Charles was going to start making a point to celebrate every placement in a race.

It didn't take long to get to Max's apartment. It's not the most luxurious, but it's comfortable. He's planning to get something worthy of the three of them after he gets a title.

Max had successfully locked himself away in his bedroom. The other two left to figure out what he needs. Maybe it is just a time thing?

"Is he usually like this after a call with Jos?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "It depends on if he's praising or berating."

"Can we help him?" Charles is eyeing the closed door and her. His brain working out every way to get him to open up.

She smirks. There always one thing that cheered up Max.

~

Max was choking back tears. He felt weak. Like he was never going to he enough.

He felt bad for stomping off the way he did, but he didn't want his partners to see him like this.

He hears the soft rape of knuckles against the door. "Mon Amour? Can we please come in?"

He grunts, but the Monegasque takes it as approval.

Charles peeks his head in. His gentle steps are coming closer to Max. He doesn't look up. He just keeps his head buried in his pillow.

Charles doesn't say anything, which he appreciates. Just sits down on the edge and lets Max's body dip towards his. Then he's running his fingers through Max's hair.

It's not long before another set of footsteps are padding into the room. These ones softer then Charles, telling Max it's y/n.

She's successfully moved both Jimmy and Sassy into the room from their hiding spots and is holding his favorite movie. She sneaks in and closes the door behind her.

They spend the next couple of hours lying in bed with the cats and watching their movie.

Max feels himself calming down. They don't talk about anything. Aside from occasionally copying the lines from the movie they've watched far to many time.

It's after that he feels like he can say something. His mind finally grounded back to reality. "I'm sorry for shutting you both out. I was just... agitated, I guess."

The Monegasque has his fingers back in his hair in an instant. "It's okay, you needed space. Do you want to talk about it now?"

The youngest places sassy on his chest as a way to comfort him. Her hands intertwine with his.

"Just frustrated that my dad thinks I'm not trying. He started spouting that I'll never get anywhere at this rate."

"That a lie. Jos is obviously lacking brain cells." The youngest pipes. "I can throw him into a wall if you want?"

The idea actually makes him smile.

~

Charles was the next to move things in. Though it was mildly awkward explaining to his family why he was moving somewhere else.

Turns out he can't keep a secret. His family is accepting. Pascale welcomes both into her home. She takes a particular liking to the quiet girl who is still always between the two older boys.

His stuff takes up more of the apartment than hers. The contrast of red and blue is now showing everywhere.

"If Charles is red, Max is blue, and I'm always in the middle, does that make me purple?" She spouts while unpacking a box of ferrari shirts.

Max spits out the water he was drinking. Charles starts wheezing. And she is laughing at her own comment.

"Where did you come up with that, Chéri?"

"Just a thought I've been sitting on since we started dating."

"You're not wrong, though." Max is wiping his mouth clean from the water.

~

It's weird going places together. Not errands and things, but social gatherings. Charles has asked to keep things private for now. He's not fond of the questions people have about the nuances of their relationship.

They came and left separately. Usually, depending on who wanted to leave first, the other would wait about fifteen minutes.

A few months into the break, Lando Norris decides to call Max and invite him and his lover to a party. He does the same for Charles a minute after he hangs up with Max.

The three of you have to hold in your laughter as Charles tries to get through the phone call listening to the same details.

Despite what Lando said, this was not the type of party any of you are used to by now. At least not Charles and Max. She'd been to few and got overwhelmed by it all pretty quickly. Sometimes, she'd use it as an excuse to get the boys out of the apartment so she could have the cats to herself and play around with her powers.

Charles and Max both hate it when she does it alone. They've found her on the floor passed out on multiple occasions. She doesn't care, though. The visions and nightmares of her father were more reason to keep going.

Regardless, this party is small. Just a few drivers who had been in town or live in Monaco are here with their partners.

Kika and Pierre, George and Carmen, Alex and Lily, Carlos is here along with Daniel. Charles is seated in a solitary chair. The couches have been taken. Daniel and Lando on either side of him.

It feels nice and intimate in a way. She hadn't seen many drivers just get together to hang out like this.

Charles is ever the gentleman and offers her the chair, which she takes. Him and Max are now making themselves comfortable on the floor in front of her.

They're eating, drinking, laughing, and sharing stories from the past. It's nice and relaxing.

She taps Max's shoulder, alerting him that she's going for water and asking both boys if they need anything to which they reply no.

She spots Lando in his kitchen getting a drink. It's not an alcoholic one, just juice that looks like it could be alcohol.

She turns on his tap for water, and Lando jumps out of his skin. His eyes rapidly look between her and his cup.

"I like to mix my alcohol with juice...?" His voice sounds unsure. Does he think it's not okay to just have juice?

"Juice is a good choice, in my opinion. Alcohol is strong and feels funny sometimes."

Lando visibly relaxs. "Promise you won't tell anyone? They laugh at me sometimes when I do this."

"I promise."

~

Lando was around more after the party. He seemed comfortable around her and Max. He'd opened up about his anxiety to them and played far to many games with Max.

What they were not expecting was for Lando to show up at their apartment door at three o'clock in the morning. His breathing uneven body shaking like a leaf.

She knew what this was. She'd had plenty of panic attacks.

She guides him inside to the couch and is trying to asses the situation. Get his breathing to calm down so he doesn't hyperventilate.

It takes ten minutes until he's calm.

"Did something happen?"

"Just a nightmare, and I couldn't calm down after."

"Did you walk here?"

He nods his head yes. Exhaustion flooding his eyes.

"Is Max asleep?" He asks.

"Should be. He sleeps like a rock most of the time." They both giggle. Lando is now able to relax in a calm environment.

They are interrupted by two sets of footsteps. Charles and Max come barreling into the living room. Panic on their faces one minute and embarrassment the next. Lando staring at the with the utmost confusion.

The older boys are shirtless and in sweats. Max's arm protectively outstretched in front of Charles.

"...oops."

~

Lando is not stupid. He may be the youngest on the grid currently, but he's not stupid.

He saw how the three of them looked at each other. Charles definitely touched them both far more than what friends do.

Originally, he thought he was crazy for watching them. Yet he couldn't help but be intrigued. How they all interacted. How they just flowed together.

Now he sits on their couch. Max looks like he's guarding Charles and y/n. The Dutch has yet to sit down and is leaning against the wall. Charles is sitting across from him with the females head in this lap. His fingers running through her hair.

It's a terrible feeling. Like he's left out of whatever this is. Three of his best friends spend all their time together, and he's just here. Young and naïve Lando.

"Did you have a feeling this would happen, Mijn liefje?" Asks Max from his perch on the wall. She shakes her head no in response.

Lando had heard about her knack for predicting future outcomes. He'd heard rumors about magic and tarot cards, but she'd never said anything to him.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here in the extra bedroom, and I can't take you home in the morning."

"That sounds nice, thank you."

~

She woke up exhausted. She felt guilty for not having warned Max and Charles. Her mind to far gone that they were mad at her. She spent her night trying to get any glimpse of their future but didn't get anything useful.

She hid herself away in the master bathroom. The wet towel and the floor her new best friend.

She could smell breakfeast. Max is cooking for all of them. They learned quickly not to let Charles cook. Lest they all die.

She was in bed with them this morning. Only crawling out from their hold when she felt them stir.

Every question puts her further into the fog. Was she going to lose them? Are they upset with her? Is Lando okay with them? Would he tell people?

It's too much for her head.

She goes for another attempt. She knows she's overdoing it. The further she goes with less time in-between brings her closer to the edge of her body going numb.

Nausea creeps into her stomach, but she sees them. Further down the line. Happy and four.

Four? This could be shocking, and yet somehow, she already knew. Her mind just needs a but of confirmation that it's possible.

The nausea gets stronger. Her nose is bleeding heavily. She pushed it past the limit.

They won't mind, though.

~

Max is making breakfast and quietly humming to himself. Charles has his hands on his hips, the two of them swaying back and forth to the tune.

"Do you think I should go check on her?" Charles mumbles into his shoulder.

"She may want space after last night, she was taken off guard and might need to peocess." He explains, then turns his attention back to the pan.

"I'm worried, though. She was crying last night after Lando went to bed, and I don't think she slept."

Lando slides around the corner. His face lighting up at the smell of food. "Can I... can I have some?"

Max laughs at the Brit's excitment. "Of course. I made enough for all of us."

Lando sits himself on top on the counter. Watching the Dutch and Monegasque lean into each other. He takes notice that someone is missing. "Is y/n okay?"

Both boys sigh with heavy concern. "She had a rough night." Explains Charles. His body is fighting the urge to go get her. "I can't take it anymore, I'm going to check on her."

Charles leaves Max and Lando in the kitchen. His legs taking long strides back to the bedroom.

"So you guys all sleep together? Not like sexually- I guess - I mean at night to sleep."

Max smiles at the Brit. His curiosity was nothing he didn't expect. "Yeah, we pile into the same bed at night. All of us sleep better that way."

Lando hums. His palm rubs his face with anxiety. "Would you ever add a fourth?-'m asking for a friend..."

Max already knows. Somehow, someway, he already knows where this is going. "Depends. It took months of discussion before Charles joined us. But I'm sure if the right person came along, we'd be open to it." Max turns around to face Lando and shoots him a reassuring smile.

Lando's cheek tint pink, and Max knows exactly what he wants.

~

Charles leclerc is usually someone who panics. This time was no exception.

He'd seen plenty after his six months of being together with his partners. Particularly how the femal among them is prone to violent behaviors against herself. He's seen all of her powers now and how they affect her if she uses them too much. He's been there to help soothe her after night terrors while Max fetches her water.

He was glad she opened up to him about her past more. He knew the generally what had gone on but no details, nothing like what he knew now.

The prospect of her father coming back for her at some point is what drover her to the breaking point on most days.

Now, Charles is faced with a locked door and the sounds of thrashing from the other side. He'd tried picking the lock, something him and Max both learned to do after instances like this, but his hands are far too shaky to maneuver the pins.

So he does the only other logical thing and breaks the door down. Only enough that he can lean it somewhere and not let it fall on her, but it felt cool to kick it in.

Charles has seen a lot of things, but this is completely new. Her muscles are tensing at a rapid speed, and her eyes are rolled back into her head. Her breathing movements are unatrual.

"Max!"

It takes ten seconds, and he's there. His body and mind reacting to the situation. He's trying to hold her in his arms. Attempting to wake her up from whatever trance she's in.

Max hisses through his teeth when he touches her. Her skin in his searing his hands. Yet, he pushes through.

Charles feels helpless. "What can I do?"

"This has happened before. She must have forced a vision. She'll come out of it, we just need to make sure she dosen't die in the process."

The two boys are then lifting her body of the floor. Charles now carries her to the bed while Max runs around grabbing things. Mostly ice to cool her down. Charles rambles on to her about nothing and everything. Max said they should talk to her, giver her some to help bring her back.

Both of them forgot they left Lando in the kitchen. The Brit left to finish making breakfast in light of their emergency. Again, they are shocked to see his pale face watching the scene unfold before him.

"Can I help?" Is all he can manage.

"Do you want to trade places with me? I think the liquid benadryl might help."

Lando is taking over for Max tentatively. He takes the ice pack from the Dutch and places it on her forehead.

Lando can see the sweat and tears mixed with fresh blood. It's scary, and he's nervous. Why are they not taking her to a hospital?

Normally, she's the one calming him down. She always knows exactly what he needs to hear. He's not been in this position, and it scares him to see her like this.

He slides one hand down to her bicep. His fingers tap out the melody to her favorite song. A trick she used on him to bring him back to earth when he got in his head.

About halfway through, she's sucking in a breath, her body sitting straight upwards. Her eyes are no longer stuck to the inside of her head. She's still sweating like mad, and her body is twitching, but she's awake.

She's breathing heavily. Dry heaving and coughing into herself. Her hands are quick to find Charles and grasp at him, searching for the familiar comfort.

Lando watches her intently. Her sobs are painful. They sound broken, like whatever she's just been through was some sort of of torcher.

"Chéri, can I set you with Lando for a moment? I need to tell Max you're awake." Charles whispers gently. Lando takes note of how he's cradling her. His hands on the back of her head and under her legs to support her weight.

She barely nods her approval. Her body is slid close to Lando, who embraces her. Attempting to replicate what Charles was doing. He finds himself tapping the same melody on her knees.

"Was that you tapping? When I was asleep?" She chokes.

"Yeah, could you feel it."

She nods her head against his body. "You brought me back, thank you."

Lando lets his body relax into hers, knowing he at least did one thing right today.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @ipabloramos @jayda12 @faithm120601

(comment if you want to be added)

#x reader #fanficion #f1 fic #formula one #formula 1 #racing #angst #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x you #lestappen #max verstappen x charles leclerc #max verstappen x lando norris #charles leclerc x lando norris #charles leclerc #lando norris #f1 x reader #mclaren f1 #mclaren racing #mclaren formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #ferrari formula one #scuderia ferrari #ferrari racing #redbull f1 #red bull racing

[okkotsuus]

jjk + domestic acts !

featuring: yuuji i. megumi f. nobara k. yuuta o. maki z. toge i. satoru g. suguru g. toji f. kento n. sukuna r. choso k.

contents: short head canons. fluff. established relationship. 900 words.

yuuji cooks for you. whether it be making you dinner when you come over for a date or making your lunch for school. he would be the type to make super cute bentos with the pictures made with seaweed. he also cuts everything into the sizes you like. he always waits to take the first bite so he can better see your reaction when you do. the smile and glow in your eyes fill him more than any meal could

megumi walks to the side where cars come from. whether it be walking on the side of the sidewalk closer to the road, closer to the middle lane in a parking lot, or walking between you and oncoming traffic when crossing the road. he always has a hand on you too just in case, usually, he prefers to rest it on the small of your back, but he also wraps his arm around your waist.

nobara buys things you like or she'll think you like them whenever she goes anywhere. she loves bringing the spoils of her travels back to you, a metaphorical tail wagging. she also gets things that remind her of you, like something from a show you watched together, or the candy she saw you eating before she left. like a crow who collects shiny things to bring back to the nest.

yuuta waits up for you when you get home late. if it's you coming back late from a mission, he'll be in the common area. if it's you coming back from a home visit, he'll be on the porch to help you with your bags. if it's you coming back from class and he gets back first, he's waiting outside your room. if he knows that you'll be gone overnight he sleeps in your room, not very peacefully, but it allows him to at least get a few hours.

maki orders for you. whether its placing reservations, ordering your food, or making a complaint for you, she's got it handled. she knows that these things can make people nervous and she doesn't every want you to feel like that if she can prevent it. whenever you go out as a class and she can't, she makes panda or yuuta order for you. because toge kinda can't.

toge leaves you notes. he leaves them on your bag, on your pillow, on your door, anywhere you have to look. usually they're a little compliment (ex. "your hair looks really pretty today") and a little doodle of him, you, or some random thing. he writes them on these little note cards that have onigiri designs along the border. it's how he makes up for not being able to say sweet nothings to you.

satoru carries your things for you. unless it's a cursed tool or something that you may need in a moments notice, it's in his hands. when you go shopping he is happily trailing behind you with all of you things. if you're going on a trip he carries both of your suitcases, he tries to carry all carry-ons as well but if he can't he'll give you the lightest one(s). he carries all the groceries in one trip too.

suguru always drives. if you need to go anywhere he's got his blacked-out benz's keys twirling idly around his finger. he puts his arm behind your headrest so he can turn around fully when backing out. puts his arm in front of you if he has to suddenly break. keeps his hand on the center console so you can hold hands. you get the aux, he likes your music.

toji doesn't pay attention to anybody but you. whether it's some random person flirting with him from across the room, he doesn't spare them a second thought unless you bring it up. sometimes he doesn't even notice cause he's too busy watching how the amber glow of the dying sun highlights your face and makes your eyes sparkle when you turn to him.

kento does the mundane things for you. if you're complaining about needing to fill your tank, he'll do it and pay for it. he starts you coffee for you so that when you wake up it's already made and cooled down. he starts the bath for you when you get home. he lays out your keys, purse, and other things on the table for you before he leaves.

sukuna scares away any and all danger. curses, humans, sorcerers, you name it; none of them with bad intentions dare to even look at you with him around. if they think you're alone and try to take advantage, he's already behind them. sometimes he disposes of him while you look away from him, he's back intact by the time you've turned around, a small splat of red on his cheek? its surely just the jam from the crepe you bought him.

choso listens to everything you say. he listens intently, his eyes never leave you except to briefly blink or if he sees motion. he looks at you like you're preaching when you're talking about this cloud that you saw that looked like a turd. nods intently and lets out soft 'mhm's while his elbows rest on his knees. leaned towards you like plants lean towards the sun.

okotsuus 23

#yuuji itadori #yuuji itadori x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #nobara kugisaki #nobara kugisaki x reader #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #maki zenin #maki zenin x reader #toge inumaki #toge inumaki x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo xreader #gojo x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushijuro x reader #toji x reader #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #choso #choso x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader

[hevansent]

BRAT

☆♡ ☆♡ ☆♡ ☆♡ ☆

••••••••••••••••••••

sub! bill kaulitz x dom! gn reader!

context: Your boyfriend, Bill had been acting like a brat all day and it was just about pissing you off.

warnings: lemon, masturbation, some cussing, begging

☆♡

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bill had been giving you an attitude ever since this morning when you guys had to get ready for an interview. As well as sassing you in public, which really bothered you. You went for a walk to cool off because you didn’t want to snap at him and figured he might just be having an off day. Now you are back in the elevator and on the way up to your room number.

You walk into your hotel room shared with Bill for the time of the tour.

“Do you need anything, mein Schatzi?” You asked, putting something away in your suitcase before turning so you can see him.

“No.” He said with a sigh and an eye roll. At this point your patience was wearing thin. Now you weren’t sure if he was trying to get a raise out of you or he just woke up a brat, but you weren’t going to put up with it much longer. You stared at him with annoyance.

“What are you looking at?” He said with a comportment of a spoiled rotten child. This was your last straw. You were now standing in front of him.

“Watch your fucking tude, Bill.” Your hand grabs his jaw, turning his head to look up at you. This gave you a good view of his face. He had no response except a huff and an eye roll, trying his best to avoid your gaze. At this point it was obvious he was in need of your sexual attention and this was all an act you were about to put to rest.

“You done? Or do you need me to put you in your place?” You stern with your thumb brushing over his lips. A small -barley noticeably- smile creeps on his face as he blatantly ignores you, looking up at you with a defiant glare. “Answer me, bill.” You demand and tighten your grip on his jaw, parting his legs with your knee and placing it dangerously close to his cock -even slightly brushing against it, kneeling over him.

“I’m not a fucking toy!” He snapped, keeping up his bratty facade, but his thighs still clenched around your leg.

“What did i say about your little attitude?” You asked rhetorically. Your knees fall on either side of him and you pull his head back by his hair, giving you a good view of his face.

“I- Fuck.” Bill mewled as he felt you on top of him, a boner already starting to appear. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment.

“Look at me.” You growled out and part his lips with your thumb. His eyes open immediately, gazing directly into yours. Your hips rock against him as you pull his head back, exposing his neck to you. You suck and nibble, marking him with tender bruises.

“M-more!” He whimpered desperately as his back arched and his cock ached for you.

“Use your manners.”

“Please!” He managed to whisper. “Please fuck me.” You pretend to think.

“No.” You replied, standing up.

“Wha- I- please!” Bill whined and looked at he you like someone took his candy. “Please baby.” He reached for you, but you smacked his hand away and walked to the small kitchen.

“No, unless you beg for what you want, you aren’t getting anything.” You pout, mocking him and cross your arms.

He stared at you, not used to being denied like this. “Please. I need you.”

“Not good enough, I told you to beg, baby.” A smirk marks your face.

“Please, please fuck me. I’m begging you. I need you!” His voice was hoarse and his need for you was overwhelming.

“Take your pants off.” You demand, sternly. Without hesitation he quickly undid his belt and button before pulling his jeans off, his boxers going with them. His cock springs up, throbbing with a bright pink, oozing tip. “Give me your hand.”

“What are you gonna do with me?” His voice ragged with desire, his heart pounding with anticipation.

“I’m not gonna do anything.” You spit into his palm. “You are.” You push his hand towards him. “Touch yourself.”

He nodded nervously and took his cock in his hand. Bill strokes himself slowly before increasing the pace, his thumb occasionally grazing his tip. He looks into your eyes the entire time, whimpering and moaning for you.

“Please..”

“Make yourself cum, sweetheart.” You kneel in front of him, putting your hand under his shirt, your cold finger tips brushing against his torso. His breath hitched and he moved his hand faster. His body trembled as he got closer and closer. “I’m- mm” He tried forming a sentence as his eyes began to roll back.

“Hm? Look at me, Liebling.” Your hand taps his thigh. Bill looked down into your eyes with his mouth slightly parted and his hips bucking up into his hand as he fucked himself.

“I’m cumming!” He moaned out and let his head fall back. Cum sputtered out of his throbbing member while his hands slow down, stroking him through his high.

“Good boy.” You praise and drag your fingers against the slit of his sensitive tip, collecting the glaze of his climax and popping your finger into your mouth.

“Mmm, you’re so…” He looked at you admirably. “Hm?” You raise a brow and lick him clean, holding eye contact.

“Ich bin so verliebt in dich, mein herz.“ He smiled, pulling you up to a kiss.

#bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #sub bill kaulitz smut #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz

[aurumacadicus]

Well I lied it's the evening lol. It's a bit angsty which is why I didn't post it on Christmas but it's fine for now probably. It's just over 3K so watch out for the cut!

--

Tony’s Christmas present was delivered two weeks after they broke up.

Steve stared at it, wondering what to do. It was a painting he’d done, something to try out watercolor with. He’d planned the view of the skyline from the tower, but he hadn’t really liked his work. Even now, he could admit he’d been too ambitious with his first project, colors muddling together into unplanned browns. But Tony had loved it, especially when Steve had painted a tiny red spot flying over the buildings when he finally gave up on realism, had gushed over it until he’d forlornly watched Steve put it away with the other paintings he was disgruntled with for not working.

Steve had gotten it framed professionally for him when he realized how much Tony had loved it, had even picked out a spot in his bedroom where it could be hung. At the time, the choice was partly because he knew Tony loved it, but mostly because Tony was so supportive when he tried anything new. He wanted to let Tony know he appreciated it, and the painting had even grown on him when he was looking at it and remembering Tony’s compliments—how much he’d improved between the blues of the bases of the buildings and the splotchy peach sunset behind them, how charming it was that the thickness of his outlines changed, how obvious his intentions were behind his mistakes.

Steve didn’t know what to do with it now. Their relationship ending hadn’t been… explosive. He still lived in his apartment in the tower. They still worked and fought together. They just… stopped being close. He stopped staying the night. Meals together didn’t happen unless it was a team event. Things between them were… okay. Fine, even.

Maybe fine enough he could still give the painting to him, Steve thought, considering. It could be an olive branch. Steve couldn’t imagine keeping it, now, but he also couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else, either. Maybe he could just… leave it for Tony, and Tony could decide what to do with it.

Steve still had clearance to the penthouse, but so did the rest of the team, so he tried not to read into it too much. Besides, it was just a quick in-and-out. A delivery, he could call it, if Tony asked. He wondered where to leave it. He didn’t want to just leave it out for anyone to find. But he also didn’t want to hang it where he’d planned, because that seemed too intimate. Finally, he decided to just leave it leaning against the wall where he’d meant to hang it. Hopefully Tony would understand that meant it was his to do with as he wished, even if it was just to throw it out.

“JARVIS, call Mama Rhodes,” Tony’s voice suddenly called out, clipped, and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Tony was already supposed to be gone. He looked around frantically for a place to hide, suddenly feeling like he was intruding, and finally ducked into Tony’s bathroom.

“Yes, Sir,” JARVIS replied after a moment, and then there was the sound of a line ringing.

Steve cautiously took a step closer to the door and peered out, ready to duck back out of sight. Tony was pulling his suitcase out of the closet, along with a handful of clothes—casual things, he thought, denim and cotton and flannel. Comfy clothes.

“You’re late,” a warm, amused voice said as soon as she picked up. Steve couldn’t help but feel a little wistful; he was supposed to meet Mrs. Rhodes for Christmas. Colonel Rhodes had given him an approving little nod when Tony had asked if he could bring Steve. He’d ridden that high for days.

“I know, I—a party ran late, and then I had to put out a couple of fires in R&D,” Tony answered, stuffing his things into his suitcase. “I’m packing right now, and then I’ll—take the train?”

“Oh, you can bring a car if you want, honey,” Mrs. Rhodes replied. “Traffic’s not bad. It’ll be about the same as the train.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, harried. “I’m sorry. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

“You’ll still be here in time for coffee and cake,” Mrs. Rhodes answered. There was a long pause as Tony scrambled over to grab his underwear and socks, but finally, softly, she asked, “And… your beau? Steve? Is he coming with you or arriving separately?”

Steve dropped the painting he was still holding in shock. Luckily, Tony shut the drawer of his dresser loudly at the same time, so he didn’t notice. Mrs. Rhodes still thought he was coming? Tony hadn’t told her they’d broken up? They’d split just after Thanksgiving. He’d had weeks to tell her.

“…Steve…” Tony began, and his knuckles had gone white where he was gripping his underwear. He hesitated, then straightened his shoulders, expression flat. “Steve was called away on a mission.”

Steve gaped at him. That was a bald-faced lie. He was not on a mission. They were broken up.

“Oh, honey, it’s Christmas,” Mrs. Rhodes sighed.

“Hydra doesn’t take holidays,” Tony insisted. “He wouldn’t have gone, but it was really important. He wanted to come to meet you, Mama.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Rhodes responded, clearly not believing it. “Well. Jim will be very disappointed. He wanted to see if Steve fit on the hide-a-bed.”

Tony let out a bark of reluctant laughter, face falling. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked miserable. “Well. He said he’d try to make it in time for your New Years Eve party.”

“If he doesn’t make it, there’s always the fourth of July,” Mrs. Rhodes answered, kind and putout somehow at the same time. “And before you say anything, I know it’s his birthday. I could make him a cake!”

“He likes strawberry rhubarb pie better,” Tony said, walking over to stuff his underwear into his suitcase. “Mama, I’m gonna get on the road. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hide a slice of cake with a carrot decoration from Carol for you,” Mrs. Rhodes assured him, and then, “Drive safely, honey.”

“I’m Iron Man. I’m not gonna die on the I-95,” Tony grumbled.

“Drive safely,” Mrs. Rhodes repeated, in that way that all mothers did when their children were being sassy and they had no patience for it.

“Yes’m,” Tony answered obediently, and his shoulders sagged as the call clicked off.

Steve sank back into the bathroom, mind whirling at the fact that Tony hadn’t told what was, ostensibly, his family about their breakup. And he hadn’t taken the chance to set the record straight even when Mrs. Rhodes had asked about it. Instead, he’d… lied. Had acted as if nothing was wrong between them, that they were still dating and Steve had still wanted to go. Why?

It was too much. Steve couldn’t make sense of it, and he knew it would eat away at him the entire time Tony was gone. He would take his lumps for being in Tony’s penthouse. He just needed to know.

“Why didn’t you tell her we broke up?” he asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

Tony jumped, both feet leaving the ground, and he stared at Steve in shock as he turned to face him. “Steve?! What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to drop off your present,” Steve answered brusquely. “Why didn’t you tell her we broke up?”

Tony’s mouth flapped uselessly. For a moment, he looked angry, and Steve was sure he’d be told in no uncertain terms to fuck off. Finally, though, he just… sagged, sad and defeated, and answered, “I didn’t want to ruin Christmas again.”

Steve frowned, confused. “What?”

Tony sucked in a breath. It sounded wet, but Steve couldn’t be sure, because Tony turned back to his suitcase, stuffing clothes into it without finesse. “Christmas… sucks. It just does. It’s like people forget I’m Tony Stark until Black Friday and they’re shocked I have to go to work. They’re shocked I still have to publicly mourn my parents. They’re shocked I have to go to every charity event I’m invited to. I barely have time to sleep, let alone spend time with someone else. And it makes them realize that this will be their life. Every December is going to mean being lonely because I have to work. So I have to tell the Rhodes that the reason I’m showing up alone is because I’ve been broken up with, and they say ‘oh, honey,’ and they try to take my mind off it, but I know I’m just a huge downer every year.

“And I just thought,” Tony added, sucking in another wet breath, and Steve’s heart broke when he saw his shoulders begin to shake. “I thought maybe they’d let it go. If I pretended everything was fine, and you were just out of town, it would be okay. I’d tell them we broke up in January and everything would be fine.”

“Tony,” Steve whispered, carefully stepping closer. It made sense, even as it made him feel sick. Part of the reason they’d broken up was because they weren’t seeing each other outside of battle. It made for difficult conversations, always keyed up with no downtime to decompress. Steve thought the only thing Tony had said that was wrong was that it started right after Thanksgiving—he’d gotten busy long before November. But maybe, if he was so used to it, it seemed that way to him. Steve reached out, meaning to take Tony’s elbow, turn him to face him.

Tony seemed to sense it, flinching away and spinning back toward him. “Please,” he whispered back. “Please let me tell them you’re just out of town. It’s Carol’s first Christmas with the Rhodes. I don’t want to ruin this for her.”

He wasn’t crying, Steve noticed in relief, even though he looked like one wrong move would send him cascading over the edge. He opened his mouth, then closed it again when Tony’s shoulders fell, as if expecting him to turn him down. What had he called it in that last fight? ‘Your inability to even see other people’s moral standards’ and ‘your expectation for them to bend to yours.’ Tony thought he’d be so offended by the lie that he didn’t care if it ruined anyone’s family Christmas. Steve didn’t want to know if he could feel any lower than he did.

“Of course, Tony,” he said instead, and it hurt a little that Tony visibly relaxed in relief, but he figured he deserved it. He opened his mouth again, to apologize for being just another person who let him down when he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t be, but that would be too selfish, he thought. “I hope you have fun,” he said instead, and he meant it. He hoped it didn’t sound snide or trite.

“I always have fun with the Rhodes,” Tony offered, turning back to his suitcase. He fiddled with his clothes for a moment, then glanced up at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “You won’t be alone?”

Steve felt his heart do a flip. Even hurting, Tony was concerned about him being alone for the holidays. “I thought I might go with Natasha to the farm.”

“Good. That’s… good,” Tony said, playing with the zipper on his bag. Finally, he let out a little, overwhelmed sniff and zipped it closed with finality. “I have to get going. I’m already late.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed quietly. He didn’t want Tony driving the icy roads in the dark.

“If you…” he trailed off, then sighed, shaking his head as he hefted his suitcase up. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas,” Steve echoed, unable to do anything but watch him leave. He thought about telling him about the painting before he was gone, then decided against it. It might be too much; Tony was already fragile. It would be there when he came back, after all.

He went into the bathroom to retrieve it, smoothing his thumb over the splotchy facsimile of the armor, then carefully leaned it up against the wall where he thought it would go best.

.-.

No one said anything about Steve not being there until New Year’s Eve, and Tony was grateful. He’d managed to forget the hurt for a while, even, playing with Lila and talking sports with Terrance. Roberta didn’t even say anything when he came in for a ‘mom hug,’ long and lingering, her nails scratching along his scalp soothingly.

“I appreciate it, man,” Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder gently. “Carol was really nervous about meeting the family. You can tell me what’s really going on, though. Is Steve actually dealing with Hydra?”

Tony twisted his champagne glass in his fingers quietly, frowning. “Well…”

Jim said nothing for a moment, then gave his shoulder a firmer squeeze. “Okay. So who are you going to kiss at midnight, then?” he asked, giving him the out instead of forcing him to admit anything.

Tony tipped his head back to blink up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“Literally my girlfriend is here Tony,” Jim sighed, shaking his head. There was a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, though. “I’m going to be kissing her.”

Carol swiveled from where she’d been talking to Monica and Lila, squinting at them skeptically. “Did you just insinuate that you and Tony kiss each other on New Year’s Eve?”

“Reluctantly, I’m confirming it,” Jim sighed.

“How come everything about you guys is weird?” Monica asked, more curious than judgmental.

“You get used to it,” Lila assured her.

Monica didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t argue. “Alright.”

“I’m kissing Carol,” Jim told Tony flatly.

Tony sighed, glancing around the room. Terrance and Roberta would kiss. They always did. He and Lila used to give each other a kiss on the cheek, but she was currently at that tender age where adults were gross in general, and family especially. He was, apparently, very uncool. He contended this would change when the next StarkPhone came out, but he also wasn’t going to push it with a pubescent teenage girl. He was kind of scared of them and especially of Lila because she’d already muttered judgmentally about his goatee.

He perked up when he noticed Maria talking with Roberta. “Maybe—”

“No,” Maria answered firmly, not turning around.

Tony crossed his arms in a pout, turning a scowl on Jim. “Well. No one I guess.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Carol asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

For a moment, Tony felt caught out, even though he knew she was just reminding him of social mores like everyone else and not pointing a finger in his face and telling everyone he was single again. He felt a cold sweat come over him, that she’d announce to the room at large that he was a failure and a liar for not admitting his relationship was over before Christmas.

“That’s honestly never stopped us,” Jim cut in, before he could out himself, and slung an arm over Tony’s shoulders in solidarity. “Or, well, Tony.”

“Tony’s always passed out kisses like candy,” Lila confirmed with a resolute nod, and Tony heard Terrance and Roberta both sigh. It maybe sounded fond. He wasn’t going to read into it.

Carol’s mouth flattened into an unimpressed line. “Every fffricking day there’s something weird about you guys to learn.”

“That fricking was very natural,” Tony assured her, because she’d already received several side-eyes for her swearing.

Carol lifted her fist, but even just a ‘playful’ nudge to the arm was painful, so when the doorbell rang at the same time, Tony shoved his champagne into Jim’s hand and scurried to answer it. It could be some neighbors with some black-eyed peas for them to eat in the new year. He didn’t understand the tradition, but Roberta always made her famous jalapeño-honey cornbread to go with it, so who was he to complain?

But it wasn’t tiny Mrs. Mathers at the door with a Tupperware full of beans. Tony blinked, staring at the broad chest in front of him, then tipped his head back. His mouth dropped open a little in shock when he recognized who, exactly, was standing in front of him

“Did I miss it?” Steve asked breathlessly.

“Huh?” Tony answered dumbly.

Steve reached toward him, and Tony noticed a duffle bag hanging from his arm dropping to the ground at the action. He blinked, too stunned to react with anything more. Steve should be at the Barton farm, he thought dimly. Or… somewhere else. Not here. Not with him.

Steve’s hands were cradling his face, and his expression was so tender. Tony stared up at him, confused and alarmed. Maybe he’d been taken over by body snatchers or something? They weren’t like this anymore. They’d broken up almost a month ago.

“Tony,” Steve said gently. “This was the worst month of my life. I hated not being with you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Tony blinked again, a hand drifting up to cover one of Steve’s. “Surely not worse than that month of food poisoning,” he began, voice a croak.

“That wasn’t food poisoning,” Steve corrected, like he always did, but he sounded fond instead of annoyed like he used to. “It was just poisoning. I was being poisoned.” The smile playing at his lips fell. “You put up with me while I was pissy and sick, and I couldn’t do the same when you got busy with work. I’m sorry. I want to do better, I… Will you let me? Can we try again?”

“It will be the same thing every year,” Tony sighed, frowning.

“Next year, I’ll be prepared,” Steve told him firmly. “Next year, I’ll know better. Next year, I’ll help.”

“Steve,” Tony began, even as he leaned his face into Steve’s grip. He wanted to believe him, was the thing. Up until the end, things had been so good. Steve had been so sweet, so attentive, so kind. And he’d thought he’d been a pretty good boyfriend too. But things hadn’t been working, at the end, both of them testy and on edge, without enough time to decompress from battle, work, each other. “I want to… but—”

“Please just give us one more chance,” Steve whispered, pressing closer, bending so he could lean their foreheads together. “One more. And if it doesn’t work, then that’s that. And I’ll be the one to come tell everyone, so you don’t ruin Christmas, okay? It’ll be me. I’ll ruin Christmas.”

Tony’s resulting laugh was shaky, but he had to admit it was the first truly genuine one he’d managed since they’d broken up. “Steve…”

“Please,” Steve begged, and then, “But obviously if you say no, that’s okay too. But I just thought… we both decided to call it quits. I thought maybe we could both decide to try again.” He hesitated, then leaned back a little, quietly asking, “Do you want to?”

Steve had been leaving a Christmas present for him the last time he’d seen him, Tony remembered, and he could feel his cheeks heating. He’d been thinking about it in every spare moment he had. It had to be something special, if he didn’t want Tony to open it in front of the rest of the team when they came back in the new year. It had to mean he was earnest. But did that mean he wanted to try again? After everything?

Steve’s palms were still warm against his cheeks, and Tony couldn’t help but sag into his grip. “Okay,” he whispered, and then, “I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, anyway.”

“Rude,” Steve griped, but there was humor in his tone. “I want to kiss you all the time. Everyone should have been jumping at the chance.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, laughing a little, and then laughed harder into Steve’s mouth when he lunged in for a kiss.

#aurumacadicus writes #stony #anyway after the midnight kiss tony smacks a wet one on rhodey and carol + maria + monica are OUTRAGED that no one cares #steve is a little jealous but he figures he deserves it #(jim agrees but he doesn't say so because he knows his parents will be very cold to steve about it and he wants it to work out for tony)

[noeou]

A NEW ADDITION.

what if you moved into their dorm instead of ramshackle? ( or, life in the heartslabyul dorm. )

includes: riddle rosehearts, trey clover, cater diamond, ace trappola, and deuce spade. ( gn!reader )

contains: fluff! can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, just really close.

more like this: masterlist.

[ riddle rosehearts | housewarden ]

riddle is very much 'all up in your business' for a lack of better words. he's always making sure your room is tidy and in peak condition.

if you have any issues at all, regarding the dorms or studies, he's the person (he'd like you) to go to. if he sees someone else helping you with something he exceeds in, he'll be down for a bit.

you become the dorms designated defense attorney, to stand up againt riddle whenever one of them gets in trouble. it's totally not because he has obvious favoritism.

whenever it's your turn to paint the roses red or take care of the flamingos and hedgehogs, he always joins you.

using the excues that 'it would hurt to go back to the basics after a while' but he knows it's because it's the only time you two get alone together, uninterrupted.

riddle convinces you to join the horseback riding club with him, or at least ride with him every once in the while. with no warning he may wake you bright and early just to say you'll be joining him.

[ trey clover | vice housewarden ]

errands have never been more fun. you guys are sam's biggest customers, as you shop for a majority of your dorm. it's nice not having to leave campus for such things.

whenever he goes out he asks if you need anything, on the rare occasions you don't join him.

he always gets or prepares dinner for you, riddle, and cater.

being the more approachable warden, most students come to him. upon seeing you're also a valuable person to go to for help or advice they do so.

at first, trey is very apologetic about the extra work but them becomes grateful when he sees it doesn't both you.

sometimes the freshman duo, but they mostly are out and about.

once a month, you two eat out at the lounge as a reward for the both of your hard efforts.

[ cater diamond | third year ]

barges in your room, if he's not already in there, while he's on live. no matter what you're doing. (of course, unless you tell him you're busy/srs beforehand.)

you're a reacurring face on his magecam, and they all love you. the amount of stan accounts is unreal.

your room is pretty much like his second one, he has his own corner even. each weekend he shows up to your door with a suitcase, 'cause the wardens won't let him stay on week nights.

on said weekends, you trick him into going 'grocery shopping' with you by disguising it as a 'snack run.'

he's always annoying you and asking for your opinion on everything.

he was very strategic and asks riddle to put you room next to his, when the warden says no he settles for a very specific room number for you. turns out you're now under his room and have to put up with his stomping.

if you listen carefully, you might be able to decipher morse code, but what do i know?

[ ace trappola | first year ] + [ deuce spade | first year ]

you three become inseparable, skipping down the heartslabyul halls with grim hanging onto your head for dear life.

ace is another one that is constantly bothering you, much unlike deuce who's just kinda there.

you three have weekly sleepovers in deuce's room, because it's the tidiest. and microwaveable dinner from sam's because none of you can afford the lounge.

when you go out for groceries, it's you and deuce getting the things you need and ace running around putting random items in your cart.

sometimes you guys sneak out of the dorms, and walk around the sleeping campus. you only head back when you exhale fog, knowing it's probably near morning.

you guys eat in the most obscure places, in school and your dorm. you always find hidden rooms in heartslabyul and make it your new 'spot' until you get caught and just find another when you do.

your punishments from riddle now consist of being unable to leave your rooms and see each other, telling other punished students to guard your bedrooms.

you one hundred percent have walkie talkies and peak out your window, judging poor passerby's outfits.

#twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twst fluff #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst heartslabyul #heartslaybul x reader #heartslabyul #twst riddle #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #trey x reader #twst trey #cater x reader #cater diamond #twst cater #twst ace #twst deuce #deuce x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola

[its-vannah]

To Love | Another Love Part Three | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

A/N: As of right now, this is the final part of this series unless I get requests asking for another installment. Thank you for all the support 💕

Warnings: Kissing, saying goodbye

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

You didn't see Eddie for nearly another year. It was hard, especially once you figured out what that feeling in your heart was. What had started off as a friendship had quickly become something more. The longer you were away from him, the more you realized your feelings for him.

While you may not have seen each other, the two of you did talk on the phone as much as possible. He told you about what was happening in LA, and you filled him in on life in Pittsburgh.

There were nights you fell asleep listening to the sound of his voice. You plugged your phone in by the bed so the cord wouldn't have to stretch so far just so you could talk to him longer.

Even when the two of you didn't have anything to talk about, you found something. Whether that was construction on The Strip or new animals in the zoo.

Hours would pass before one of you would have to hang up to get some sleep, even if you hated saying goodnight.

There weren't any labels on your relationship. You weren't even sure if Eddie saw it as anything more than a friendship. But you needed to see him. To feel yourself nestled into his chest again.

As soon as he told you they were coming to Pittsburgh, you told him not to bother with getting a hotel, that he could stay with you. It was closer to the concert venue, anyway.

He agreed and then had to be pulled off the phone for rehearsals. You bid him goodbye, falling onto your bed with a smile on your face. As giddy as a teenage girl, you imagined how it would be to see him again.

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

Warren dropped Eddie off at your apartment on his way to fill up the van's gas. Everyone else was already at the hotel, unaware of Eddie's plans to stay with you over them.

As soon as the buzzer rang, you raced downstairs to help him with his bags.

He had to drop his luggage as you ran fullforce to him, draping your arms over his shoulders.

"You didn't miss me at all, did you?" He teased, setting you back down on the pavement, grabbing his suitcase.

You took his other two bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other in one of your hands, "No, not in the slightest."

"I can carry them, I don't mind."

Turning on your heel, you tilted your head, "You don't feel comfortable letting a woman carry your bags? Guess you're not as perfect as I thought."

Flustered, he shook his head, "No, no—that's not—I just—"

You broke out into a fit of laughter, "I'm messing aith you, Ed, don't worry."

He nodded, relief washing over him before another thought popped into his head, "You think I'm perfect?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

-------

Luckily for Eddie, you had a spare bedroom with a bedframe and mattress already set up. You had put on the sheets that morning, making sure everything was perfect for him before he arrived.

That night, with a record playing in the background, you poured both yourself and Eddie a glass of wine. Bringing it over to him on the couch,

That night, the two of you settled down on your couch, a record playing in the background as you poured yourselves a glass of wine.

Clinking glasses, you both took a small sip before you set the glass down on the sidetable.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded, turning his body towards you, "Go for it."

"Everyone in the band—even Warren—has seen or is seeing somebody," You said, eyes wandering the room, "Why not you?"

Eddie looked down at his glass, swirling the wine around as he thought about how to respond.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying," You said, taking a large sip of wine, "You don't have to answer if you don't have to."

"Y/N, I—"

The buzzer rang again, cutting him off.

Groaning, you set your glass back down and went to the buzzer box, "Hello?

The other line was quiet for a moment, "Y/N?"

"Who is this?" You asked, the other end distorted.

"It's Graham."

You paused, "What do you need?"

"Look... Can we talk? Please?"

Looking back at Eddie, you hesitated, "I don't know."

"Just give me five minutes, please."

"Okay."

You buzzed him in, turning to Eddie.

"Who was that?" He asked.

Pursing your lips, you met his eyes, "Graham."

"Oh," Eddie frowned, "Should I—Should I give you two a minute or...?"

"No, you can stay there. It shouldn't take long."

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. Taking a deep breath, you opened it, revealing a disheveled Graham on the other side.

"Your five minutes starts now, Dunne," You sighed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Nodding, he began, "I made a mistake, Y/N/N. I made a mistake when I walked away from you—from us. I want to give us a try. Please."

You were silent for a moment, not wanting it to hurt him too bad that you already had an answer in your head, "No."

"Please, Y/N. I want you. I'm choosing you."

"I don't want there to have to be a choice between me and someone else. I need someone who is with me without hesitation," You explained, "Graham, I've moved on."

He looked you up and down, in your nicest sundress, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes, Graham. You are," You said, growing increasingly frustrated with him, "What about Karen? Does she know you're here?"

"Karen and I are—I don't know," He said, tears swelling in his eyes, "No. She doesn't know I'm here. We had a fight."

You shook your head, "Graham, all you've ever really wanted in life was to be loved. Just because you can't get that for one second from one woman doesn't mean you can run to the next one you find and get it from her. I can't be that woman for you."

"You don't—you don't love me anymore?"

"A part of me will always love you, but I'm not in love with you. I haven't been for a while."

He nodded, accepting your answer, "Okay."

"Okay," You repeated, "Go get her, Graham. You don't want to lose this one."

With that, you closed the door, turning back to Eddie.

"I'm sorry about that," You apologized, "I didn't think it would take that long."

He rose from the couch, walking towards you, "Did you mean what you said? You're not in love with him anymore?"

You nodded, "I haven't been for a while, Eddie."

"Is there... Is there someone else?"

You began slowly stepping towards him, "There is."

"Who... Do I know him?"

"I'd say you know him pretty well."

The two of you were inches away from each other.

"I believe our conversation was interrupted," Your voice was just above a whisper, "So let me ask you again: Is there anyone on your mind?"

He nodded, tilting his head, "There is."

A dreamy smile appeared on your lips, "Do I know her?"

His lips were mere seconds from being on yours, "I'd say you know her pretty well."

With that, you closed the gap between the two of you, your lips moving against his.

Eddie's hands cupped your face before slowly moving them down to your waist. Your arms tangled around his neck, smiling as you leaned into the embrace.

There was someone else—and that someone was Eddie.

#fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #dj&ts #djats #eddie #eddie loving #eddie roundtree x reader #eddieroundtree #edward roundtree #eddie roundtree #eddieloving #eddie loving x reader #Eddie roundtree x you #eddie roundtree x y/n