#well i guess you owe me over a grand ...

[marriedtobigfoot]

Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go! 

The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window. 

“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?” 

It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track. 

“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-” 

Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now. 

“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-” 

Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth. 

“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?” 

Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly. 

“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?” 

“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.” 

Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that. 

“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…” 

“But?” 

“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” 

“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.” 

Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall. 

“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever. 

She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.” 

“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…” 

“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?” 

“Yeah. This guy.” 

There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.

Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that. 

“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?” 

“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.” 

“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.” 

“And I’m normally into people with boobies.” 

“That too.” 

Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’ 

She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too. 

The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it. 

She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter. 

She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.

A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!

@kaiscove​ @wolfstarlights​  @awkwardgravity1​ @anonymousbandgirl​  @f1ct1onwh0re

#steve harrington #Robin Buckley #Platonic Stobin #Wingman Robin Buckley #Steddie #Eddie Munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steddie ficlet #stommy #one sided stommy #because I am a Tommy was in love with Steve Truther FIRST and a person never #Steve may have liked him once upon a time but that ship has sailed now

[x-uno]

Hey! Do you think you could make a OPLA!Zoro x reader but like fluff to angst something like that?? You can do whatever you want be creative :) thank you! XOXO

Silent Longing.

Pairing: OPLA!zoro x reader

| 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

In the quiet corners of our hearts, there often exists a hidden treasure, a secret admiration that we dare not speak aloud. It's a tale told in hushed tones, a whisper to the universe, a confession to no one but ourselves.

"You have to stop being stupid and risking your life, Y/N," Zoro grumbled, his gruff voice cutting through the stillness of the night. "You're lucky I saved your ass in time."

His words, though laced with irritation, were a stark reminder of the genuine worry he held for your well-being. 

You couldn't help but smile, a mix of gratitude and longing in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I guess I owe you one, Zoro."

He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your words sinking in. "Just don't make a habit out of it. We need every hand on deck."

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the railing of the Going Merry, gazing at the starry sky that stretched endlessly before you. "Heh, worried about me?"

Zoro, who had been standing nearby, turned his head away, his face hidden in the shadows. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not worried about you."

"Whatever you say, mosshead," you retorted, using the nickname you knew he secretly tolerated.

As the stars continued their silent dance overhead, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Zoro. His profile was bathed in moonlight, revealing the scars that adorned his rugged face. There was a magnetic allure to him, an irresistible enigma that had drawn you in from the moment you joined the crew.

In these moments of secret admiration, we become silent observers, watching from afar, admiring the beauty or brilliance that has captured our attention. We find ourselves drawn to qualities that resonate with our own desires and aspirations.

"You know, Zoro," you began, your voice soft, "sometimes I wonder if the Grand Line has as many mysteries as you do."

Zoro's eyes, ever watchful, shifted in your direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged, your gaze returning to the stars. "Just that you're a man of many layers, and I feel like there's so much about you I don't know."

A hint of a smirk played at the corner of Zoro's lips, though he still avoided making direct eye contact. "You think you can figure me out, Y/N?"

You chuckled, your heart feeling oddly light in this moment of vulnerability. "I don't know, Zoro. But I'd sure like to try."

In the days that followed, your interactions with Zoro remained a delicate dance of unspoken sentiments. The crew sailed through uncharted waters, facing perilous challenges and ferocious adversaries, yet the magnetic pull between you and the swordsman remained a constant presence.

There were moments when Zoro would surprise you, whether it was offering a hand to steady you on a rocky path or sharing a rare smile when no one else was looking. Those moments became the source of both your greatest hope and deepest despair.

"Y/N, watch your step," Zoro's voice broke through the tension in the air as you navigate the treacherous, narrow ledge on a seemingly endless mountain path. His strong hand reached out, fingers grazing your arm gently to ensure your balance.

You couldn't help but glance at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Zoro."

His gaze met yours for a fraction of a second before he turned away, his expression unreadable. "Don't mention it."

The ambiguity of his actions gnawed at your soul like a relentless storm. Did he see you as nothing more than a comrade? Or was there a chance, however slim, that he felt something deeper?

In the quiet of your own thoughts, you replayed those instances, dissecting each one for hidden meaning. But in the end, you couldn't escape the truth that hung over your heart like a storm cloud: Zoro's actions, no matter how seemingly significant, remained shrouded. 

-

"Zoro, do you ever wonder what keeps us going? What's the point of it all?"

"We have our goals. We chase them. That's all."

"But what about... other dreams? What if there's something or someone you care about more?"

He didn't answer right away, and you could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a blade, cutting through the silence.

"Dreams like that are for fools, Y/N. They lead to nothing but pain."

''Oh.''

But, of course, it was an inevitable truth that in the depths of our souls, unrequited love resided, an agonizing ache we concealed beneath stoic masks.. It's a silent longing that beats like a quiet drum, an unspoken declaration that remains locked within.

A  bittersweet melody that plays in the chambers of our hearts. We yearn for the love we give to be mirrored back, but fate has different plans. It's an unspoken story, a love unfulfilled, a heart that beats out of sync with the world.

 "But isn't pain a part of life, Zoro? It's what makes us feel alive, isn't it?"

Zoro clenched his jaw, frustration evident in his tense posture. "Feeling alive, huh? That's overrated. Life's about survival, not getting caught up in pointless emotions."

"But what if it's not pointless? What if it's what gives life meaning?"

Zoro's gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it seemed as though he was about to reveal something hidden deep within himself. "Y/N, I've seen what happens when people get too attached to their dreams, to others. They lose focus. They get distracted. And then, they fall."

You felt a pang in your chest, a mixture of frustration and a growing sense of desperation. "But Zoro, isn't there something you care about? Someone you'd do anything for?"

Zoro's expression hardened, and he turned his gaze away from you. "I have my crew. They're my dream, my goal. Nothing else matters."

The silence hung heavy between you, a palpable tension that refused to dissipate. Your heart ached with the desire to break through Zoro's stoic exterior, to understand what lay beneath his tough facade.

"Zoro," You whispered, their voice barely audible, "sometimes, dreams change. Sometimes, they evolve into something more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. And sometimes, letting someone in doesn't make you weak; it makes you stronger."

Zoro's eyes flickered, a hint of vulnerability briefly surfacing before he buried it deep within. "I don't have time for distractions, Y/N. I won't let anything or anyone get in the way of my goal."

A tragedy it was, a love so profound it felt like both a blessing and a curse. To love someone with a depth that threatened to consume every fiber of your being, yet knowing that you could never truly be his was a torment that tore at the soul.

It was a love that coursed through your veins like a bittersweet poison, intoxicating your senses and clouding your judgment. Every stolen glance, every stolen moment, was a reminder of the forbidden nature of your desires. And yet, you could not help but yearn for more, to risk everything for the chance to be near them, to feel their presence like a lifeline in a world that seemed determined to keep you apart.

The very thought of  him was a constant ache, a haunting melody that played in the recesses of your mind. 

And yet, you knew that to pursue this love would be to court disaster, to dance on the precipice of ruin. The world had conspired to place insurmountable barriers between you, and the consequences of crossing those lines were too dire to contemplate.

So, you loved him in silence.

taglist: reply to be added !

© 2023 x-uno ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. 

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #angst #fluff #ahhhhh #sobbing

[rayslittlekitten]

Longest Nights

A/N: Okay, this isn't perfect but I think it mostly captures what I was going for. I'm done working on this. I've listened to "Last Christmas" by Ariana Grande on loop for literally the last like 8 hours trying to finish this. It's weirdly the song that inspired this (YT link below). This isn't the first Kai fic I thought I'd finish but here we are. Kai had already broke my heart so this fic is just me jamming the knife even deeper and twisting it. This fic is spoiler free.

Rating: T/M

Word Count: ~1.3k

Pairing: Kai x Pilot! F! Reader

Plot: When you run into your crush who you have a working relationship with on the loneliest night of the year, you find comfort in him.

Contains: mentions of sex, heartache, Kai is a warning in itself

It’s that time of year again, the shortest day and longest night, where all the travelers go home to be with their families and loved ones to celebrate the Winter Solstice. You don’t know the origin of the holiday but it’s celebrated universally. Traditions may vary from culture to culture but usually children get presents for being well-behaved all year and families gather around to sing and dance. 

But where do the ones with no family go? The same place where you are right now, seated on the stool at the bar in this saloon. The orphans, the loners, the outcasts. This is their home and it has been yours as well for the last few years. It can get lonely this time of year making the longest night seem even longer, but at least you’re not doing it alone.

While working on your third pint, a familiar voice behind you draws your attention. You slowly turn around to take a glance and as expected, you see him. He has his arm around a woman’s shoulder and they look cozy as they walk across the saloon. Probably a mark, but with Kai, you never know until it’s too late.

Your eyes follow them as they seat themselves at the other end of the bar. He leans in and whispers something into her ear and she giggles with her hand over her chest. She is definitely getting something stolen tonight, whether it’s the big shiny ring on her hand or her heart. You would know first hand.

When you finished off your ale, you sensed a presence next to you. Before you could order another pint, they ordered it for you as well as one for themselves, sliding a few coins to the bartender.

“Oh, hey Kai. You don’t need to-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry about it. I got a bigger payout from my last job than I expected,” he waved his ringed hand to dismiss you. “Besides, I owe you one.”

Kai brought his freshly-poured pint up to clink with yours before taking a large gulp.

Last time, he tried to swindle a swindler and he almost had it but when they caught on, Kai would have lost his head if you hadn’t happened to be there to back him up. He’s always getting himself into all sorts of trouble for a shilling, but he’s usually smart about it. Once in a while, he just liked to do it for the challenge.

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged after taking a sip of your own ale. “I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

You noticed the mischievous smirk forming on his face, flashing his shiny teeth. The precious metals in his mouth brightens his smile. Your gaze moved up and you’re suddenly lost in his bright blue eyes. It wouldn’t be your first time.

“So what are you doing here by yourself on a night like this? Shouldn’t you be with that bounty hunting fellow you’ve been planet-hopping with?” Kai asked curiously.

“You mean Jaxson? We’re not together anymore,” you told him, then took another sip of your drink, looking away from him in embarrassment.

“Well, that’s too bad for him. You’re a great person to have around,” he commented.

“Thanks, Kai. Guess he didn’t think so,” you threw him a tight-lipped smile. “He found somebody more suited for him at the brothel.”

“Eh, screw Jaxson! I never trust bounty hunters,” he replied. “Especially ones who can’t even see the value of someone.”

His crystal clear eyes met yours again and he winked. You felt your cheeks quickly heating up and it’s not from the ale. Kai was very charming and charismatic which is why he’s great at what he does and you’re not immune from it even knowing this. His accent certainly adds to it.

“Enough about that scoundrel. How’s business going, by the way?” he asked, changing the subject.

Kai would sometimes outsource jobs to you when he wasn’t able to do them himself and would take a small percentage of the payout as a finder’s fee. You never knew what you were transporting but you always took the job. It wasn’t just for the money; any opportunity to spend time with Kai was enough of a reason.

“Not many people have needed things transported lately, believe it or not. Might have to find other ways to earn if this keeps up. Fuel is not cheap.”

Kai leaned into you, his shoulder pressed right up against yours and his face mere inches away from yours.

“You know, I heard on Veldt, the farmers have this belief that making a lot of loud and passionate love appeases their god and will make their soil fertile so they will have an abundance of crops,” he started. 

“Interesting,” you commented, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Maybe it might work in the same way. Abundance of transportation needs,” he shrugged.

You let out a chortle, nearly choking on your ale. 

“Kai, that has to be the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” you replied while wiping the corners of your mouth.

“It might be, but it made you laugh,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you how cute your laugh is?”

Your face got hot again as the corners of your lips curled up and you tried to hide your face in your shoulder. That handsome smile made an appearance again and there’s a twinkle in his eyes. He scanned your face before settling on your lips and leaning in even closer.

“Interested in appeasing the gods tonight?”

You let out a small laugh but stared at him for a few moments when his facial expression didn’t change. When his hooded eyes found yours again, your breath hitched.

***

The next morning, you found yourself alone in the bed of the room you both rented out for the night at a nearby inn. You scanned the room and there was no sign of Kai. It was as if he never stepped foot in here. The soreness between your legs is the only proof you had, that you hadn’t dreamt it. 

You had lost count of how many times he made you climax, but that wasn’t even the best part of it. It was the most intimate and passionate love making you had ever experienced. He said and did things that made you feel like the only person that existed in this universe. He took his time with you, worshiped you, and left no part of your body untouched. He made your body react in ways you didn’t ever think was possible. You opened up to him and shared parts of yourself that you hadn’t shared with anyone else, as it seemed like he did with you. 

Admittedly, you were in a vulnerable place, but it didn’t take away from what had manifested last night. You then suddenly checked all your belongings to make sure they were all there. After thoroughly searching, you found something that didn’t belong to you: one of Kai’s rings. You sighed in relief to confirm Kai didn’t steal anything from you, but it still felt like something was missing.

A few days later, you ran into him, although you didn’t know if it was by chance or it was by his design because he was in need of your services again. You returned his ring which he thanked you for, but things went on like nothing had ever happened between you. You had thought there was a connection. He had never brought up that night to you so you didn’t either, especially seeing him with another woman that day. You didn’t want to make things awkward.

You quickly finish your drink and tip the bartender as you gather your belongings. From your peripheral vision, you see the woman throw a drink onto Kai’s face before stomping out the swinging doors. You can’t help but smirk, but you hide it from him. You glance over at him for a quick moment as he wipes his face before finally heading out yourself. The last thing you need is for him to drown you in his eyes again. 

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #kai #rebel moon #kai fanfiction #rebel moon fanfiction #kai x f!reader #kai x reader #christmas #Youtube

[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 1

PRINCE OF GOTHAM

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. 

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Some other characters are changed too, hopefully you’ll enjoy the cameos etc. I’ve tweaked parts of the story here and there so it suits better. I hope you all enjoy xoxo much love. Let me know if you want a tag list / to be on the tag list.

*** 

Roy lounged back in his leather office chair and smirked as Jason sauntered in without knocking. “And what do I owe this displeasure?”.

“Just wanted to see how things were going, you know, it is my company after all”, Jason glanced around the office. Roy liked to keep things minimal, although the addition of the little cactus was new. An almost feminine touch. He made a note to question him about that later. He’d never known Harper to take an interest in plants before.

As the office door closed behind him, arguing erupted outside, barely concealed by the walls. He raised his eyebrow and looked through the window seeing a short, stumpy man in a suit become red and blotchy in the face.

“I don’t know why we still pay that moron”, Roy grunted and waved his hand to the disagreement outside. The stubby man, Eric, was tugging at his tie as a more feminine voice dressed him down confidently.

“I can have HR carry out a performance review if you’d like”.

Jason glanced out between the blinds and saw you storm around one of the desks, straight into his vision, hands flying violently as you spoke. He swallowed as his eyes followed you; a tight fitting grey pencil skirt paired with a wine silk blouse. He raised an eyebrow in interest. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands falling down to frame your petite face. Lips painted a deep shape of rouge. You laughed venomously before pointing to one of the free standing boards, a colourful diagram adorning it. Eric shook his head and turned away, only infuriating you more. Jason smirked, enjoying the little show.

“She’s been here 5 minutes…down boy”, Roy chuckled and grabbed something from his printer. Scrawling his signature across the bottom.

“You say that like you'd wait even 30 seconds”, Jason scoffed, a little embarrassed and slightly impressed at how well Roy could read him.

Roy looked up from the papers and grinned, “I give at least 3 to 5 working days as a courtesy before I pounce”.

Jason felt his stomach churn at the thought. He spun around quicker than he would have liked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh...so you’ve tried then?”.

“What’s it to you if I have?”, Roy grinned, noticing Jason’s reaction.

“I want to see if she has taste”, Jason quipped and turned his attention back to the escalating discussion outside. Hoping to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. You’d now dragged the whiteboard across to Eric, jabbing at one of the PowerPoint slides before rubbing your temples in frustration.

Roy scoffed to hide the laughter before getting out of his seat strolling across to Jason to hand him the signed papers, “You know, she’s the woman that saved you 500 grand last week”.

Jason frowned upon taking the paperwork from Roy, “I don't remember hearing about it”.

The white haired man shrugged to the shouting, “Take a wild guess why, Todd”.

“He played it as his own victory?”, Jason’s gaze fell back to you. Eric was crossing over your work on the board with an ugly red marker, sneering at you. Jason felt his temper surge at the blatant disregard for your hard work and effort. His brow creased at the unfamiliar emotions swimming in the back of his mind.

Roy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, a dark grin on his lips, “Oh! So you do have a brain”.

Jason rolled his eyes, rolling his broad shoulders, “Contrary to popular belief, yes I do”.

Roy laughed deeply as he watched you with Jason through the window, your irritation bubbling over as you repeatedly jabbed your pen to the graphs on the board, voice becoming louder with every word, “She’s a real pistol”.

“I can see”, Jason hummed appreciatively as you stalked off towards the coffee room, the skirt pulling tight against you, highlighting the curve of your ass perfectly. 

Eric looked flustered as the rest of the staff in the room stared at him following the heated exchange. He shouted something to them, causing them all to bow their heads behind their computer screens. Roy grumbled something under his breath Jason couldn’t make out. Eric turned towards Roy’s office and stiffened when he saw both men watching him. Jason smirked at him, giving a subtle wave before turning to Roy, “You know what, I will send HR down this week to investigate”.

***

You checked yourself in the mirror of the elevator again, nerves making your stomach somersault. The dress had been an extravagant splurge but the moment you laid your eyes on it, you knew you had to have it. It was a floor length, backless crimson dress with a daring thigh split. You ran your hands down the front of the fabric, the satin soothing your clammy palms.

Your hair was curled loosely and draped down your bare shoulders, lips a dark red to match your dress. Briefly, you hoped, you hadn’t gone overboard with your outfit. The invitation had said ‘formal wear’. The elevator dinged and before you could think too much, the doors slid open revealing you to the party. You heard someone gasp in the distance and that’s when the entire room turned to your direction.

You were used to people staring at you in the office because of your fiery attitude but this was different. You felt your skin prickle. An odd sensation driving through your nerves. Everyone had paused to stare at you as you stepped into the room. The music faded in the back of your mind, replaced by the hammering of your heart. You straightened yourself and strode into the room with all the false confidence you could muster.

His eyes. Jason. You could feel them burning more than anyone else’s. He’d stopped mid sentence when you entered the room, cigarette left smoking in his hand. He was surrounded by his executive team, including your area manager, Mr Harper. Whilst you felt heat spreading across your cheeks, you felt somewhat pleased you’d stunned your loud mouthed CEO into silence. Roy had slapped Jason on the back, a dark smirk on his face drawing his attention away from you. He glared at Roy before taking a long drag from his cigarette, continuing with his conversation as though nothing had happened. The group of suited men dissolved into barks of laughter.

You needed a large drink. Preferably a strong one too if you wanted to last the night. You headed straight towards the bar, as fast as your towering heels would allow.

———

Jason patted one of the executives on the shoulder, making his excuses before striding across to you as you leaned against the bar, your bare back on full display. He swallowed thickly, you looked majestic under the glittering fairy lights draped around the room.

He settled next to you at the bar, clearing his throat before speaking, the deep timber of his voice rattled your core, “I think...I've seen your face before”.

You rolled your eyes at the terrible opening line before turning to face him. The black suit fitted him perfectly, showcasing his broad shoulders, his blood red tie knotted tightly against the collar of his crisp white shirt.

“Probably during one of your lonely nights over a bottle of chardonnay”, you lazily waved your hand at him.

Jason smirked at your attitude and laughed, “You think I’m chatting you up princess?”.

You pursed your lips together, nodding, “It certainly sounded that way to me and I really don’t know what else you would do after swaggering away from that crowd just to talk to lil’ old me”.

“I simply had to talk to the woman who stunned the room into silence”, his smooth voice sent shivers over your skin, oozing charm. You imagined it worked on every woman he encountered. It almost worked on you.

“Very smooth Mr Todd”, you teased and tried to wave the bartender down with no luck. You sighed and cursed under your breath.

Jason clicked his fingers, drawing the attention of the waiter immediately, “Two large glasses of Malbec please”, he winked at you when the bartender reached to the top shelf of liquor, “I know who you are”, Jason gave you a devilish smile, “You’re the 500 grand woman”.

“Y/N”, you winked and wiggled your finger at him in a joking fashion. The grin on your face widened when the wine was set down in front of you both. The rich, spicy smell drifted up your nose.

You dug your hand into your purse but Jason shook his head, “It’s on me”.

“Oh”, you clicked your tongue playfully, “You’re too kind”, you smirked at him.

Jason wouldn’t admit it, but he knew exactly who you were. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he laid his eyes on you last month. Your spitfire attitude had spread through the office and you’d made quite a name for yourself. Cutting impressive deals and smart talking anyone who tried to shoot you down. The only thing Jason had lacked was an opportunity to talk to you.

He held up his glass of whiskey and looked down at you, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, “A toast”, he leaned down towards you, his hot breath fanned across your cheek, “To Y/N”, his voice dipped lower, a gravelly rasp, “The most beautiful, enticing woman in the room”.

“You forgot to add smart”, your voice sounded more breathy than you intended, giving Jason an idea of the effect he was having over you.

He winked, “The most beautiful, enticing, smart mouthed woman in the room”.

“To me”.

You clinked your glass with his before bringing it to your lips, taking a long sip. The alcohol burnt your throat in the best way, the deep red of your lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Jason couldn’t help but stare at the smudge, wondering if it would stain as nicely on his skin.

Downing the drink in one, Jason placed the glass on the bar, the bartender rushed over quickly, leaving the bottle of red wine next to Jason before scurrying off. Your tongue darting across your lips, savouring the taste of the luxurious drink.

Jason watched you closely, you felt alive under his burning stare, “I hope you’re enjoying working for The Iceberg Lounge”.

“Of course, Sir”.

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his lips. The way you said it. The way your lips wrapped around the word Sir, how easily it rolled off your tongue. He took a deep breath. You riled him up with little to no effort.

You glanced around the gala, almost everyone from The Iceberg had turned up. Hundreds of people were braying in the room. Dancing, drinking, laughing and screeching. The music thudded in the background, the bass thrumming through your body. You had to hand it to Jason, he certainly knew how to host a company party. Well a man in charge of a chain of bars should really.

Jason gripped the bottle of wine swiftly, “It's getting rather lively in here princess, fancy a drink and a smoke on the balcony?”.

You nodded, grabbing your clutch from the bar. You sashayed through the crowd easily, Jason following close behind you. Slinking through the throes of people, you smirked to yourself. You were playing with fire but, you had to admit, you liked the heat that came with it.

———

When you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze whipped around your body, nipping the bare skin on show. You shuddered slightly, looking up at the night sky. You were high enough that you could finally see the stars. They twinkled innocently, making you smile to yourself.

Jason placed the bottle of red on a nearby table, looking across at you. You looked even more stunning under the midnight stars. He coughed deeply, working his way across to the railing you were leaning against, “I’m surprised that you came alone, I find it hard to believe you struggled to get a date”.

You turned to him, your chandelier earrings dangling in the breeze, they captured the starlight and flickered elegantly, “I like coming to these things alone”, you mused, a coy smirk on your painted lips, “I like to see who else has come alone”.

“Oh”, he inched closer, the soft brush of his suit jacket against your bare arm made you flush, “So you’re on the lookout?”.

“Maybe”, your fingers wrapped around the metal bar and you looked over the edge. The bustle of Gotham City never ceased to amaze you, even at this height. And there you were, gazing at it with its unofficial Prince standing next to you.

Jason grinned, letting a cool finger stroke down your upper arm, “I might be able to help with that”.

You smirked, looking up catching his heated stare, “Are you going to introduce me to one of your rich friends?”.

“Trust me princess, they’re not your type”, he scoffed, his eyes tracing down the neckline of your dress, mapping every inch of your tantalising skin. He noticed a faint sparkle of glitter on your skin, along with a subtle scent of vanilla invading his senses.

Moving away from the balcony edge, you stepped into his space, fingers grasping the end of his tie, playing with it gently, “And what is my type?”.

Jason felt an unmatched desire burning in his gut when your hands toyed with his tie. He took a deep breath before cornering you into the balcony railing. His eyes were hooded with lust, “I know exactly what it is”.

The bitter metal pressed into your lower back and you bit back the moan creeping up your throat, desperate to escape. You snaked your hand up his solid chest and straightened out his shirt collar, “Well don't keep me in suspense, Sir”.

It was taking all of his self restraint not to bend you over the balcony and rail you from behind, especially when you kept calling him Sir. His hands gripped the balcony bar behind you, knuckles white from the force. Jason smirked, his voice dropping several octaves, “I can show you instead princess”.

The heat from his body was addictive and you leaned into it without thinking, breath catching in your throat. His aftershave was intoxicating and you felt your mind spinning. Jason pulled back suddenly and offered you his hand.

You slipped your hand into his and bit your plump bottom lip, “People are going to see us leaving together”.

“So?”, Jason shrugged, “Then they know we're going to have some fun, aren't we princess?”.

You shivered, letting his words drip over you. Oh the night was yet to begin and your heart was thrumming with excitement. You secured your fingers through his and started to pull him back inside so you could both leave.

“Of course Sir”.

The second you were back inside, Jason’s free hand wound around your waist, guiding you towards the elevators. He leaned down, hot breath fanning down your sensitive neck, “Yours or mine?”.

You pressed the down button on the lift pad a little more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You felt him smirk behind you, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Mine”, you whispered before slipping into the cart when the doors sprung open.

———

The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with subtle touches and increasing tension. You’d expected Jason to pounce on you the second you slid into the backseat but he didn’t, simply keeping one arm around your shoulder, the other resting on your exposed knee drawing feather light circles.

“Keep the change”, Jason muttered, shoving a wad of cash through the divider before helping you out of the car.

His hand pressed into your lower back, rough fingers scraping against your soft skin. You shuddered, excited to feel his touch exploring the rest of your body. You led him through the marble floored lobby and up a flight of stairs, stopping outside of your door to retrieve your keys from your clutch.

His lips pressed into the junction of your neck, tongue lapping over your skin which flushed rapidly under his touch, “Hurry up princess”. You felt Jason’s hand stroke up the front of your dress, palming your breast greedily before pinching your nipple.

You gasped at the rush of sensations, almost dropping your keys. The overload of his touches made you shudder and your eyes close, head dipping forward.

“Unless you want me to fuck you out here for everyone to see, I suggest you get that door open”, he growled, lips teasing the shell of your ear. His cock was straining against his suit trousers as he brushed it against your ass, groaning quietly.

Steadying your hands and your frayed mind, you slotted the key into your door, opening it as quickly as possible. Before you had any time to think, Jason crushed you against it, slamming it shut, his lips plastered to yours in a frenzied heat.

You moaned, the noise swallowed by his mouth as his tongue glided along yours. He could still taste the wine on your lips, mingling with your own sweet flavour. You dropped your bag and ran your hands up his chest, reaching his tie. Tugging it hard, you loosened it, enough to free him of it and start unbuttoning his shirt.

Jason smirked and sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, enjoying the gasp of pleasure you released. You looked into his darkened gaze, giving him a sweet innocent smile before pushing him back against the hallway wall. His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he allowed you control, stroking the pads of his fingers up and down your spine.

With the last button popped open, your nails dragged down to his belt, unfastening it slowly, licking your lips.

“I bet this is what you thought about didn’t you?”, you teased, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, slowly, “Me on my knees for you, swallowing your thick cock”.

You palmed him through his boxers, watching his face twist with held back desire. Your lips curved and you dropped to your knees, eye level with his hard shaft.

Jason groaned quietly, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tighter when your lips ghosted over the outline of his throbbing cock.

“Princess”, he warned huskily, voice laced heavy with lust.

The stings of pain as he pulled your hair shot down to your core, lighting up all of your nerves. You mewled and mouthed his tip, “I thought about it too…Sir”.

His hips rutted towards your face at your words and you grinned. You pulled his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock sprung free, slapping against his rippled abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, aching for him to sink into both your throat and pussy.

You nipped along his thick, muscled thighs, your lipstick smearing as you neared his pulsing length. He tensed with each bite and growled loudly, cock twitching with excitement.

“Princess if you keep-”, the words died in his throat when the wet heat of your mouth encased his cock in one swift motion. His head flung back, eyes scrunched shut at the feeling.

You purred around his shaft, tongue fluttering along the underside, tracing the vein there. Your hands stroked up and down his thighs as you worked your lips around him. Bobbing your head back and forth.

Each time you whined around him, the vibrations buzzed up his spine, sending his mind into a delirious haze of pleasure.

“Fuck!”, he grunted and fisted his hands into your hair, thrusting forward into your hot mouth.

The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged around his cock, whimpering with desire. He caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes black with passion.

“Your lips look perfect wrapped around my big cock”, he smirked and thrust harder into your mouth, the wet, sinful sounds echoing in the hallway of your apartment.

Your pussy was soaked and each time you shuffled, the lace of your thong rubbed against your clit. The sensation made your skin flush but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.

Jason sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you swallow his cock. Your once perfect lipstick was smudged all over your mouth. Some stained his length. He groaned as you pulled back, tracing your tongue over the slit of his tip, hands kneading his inner thighs perfectly.

“Sir-please…”, your voice was raw as you spoke, wide eyes searching his, “I want you”.

He let his thumb run over your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lips wrapped around it without second thought, sucking softly. Jason dipped it down your chin before hooking it underneath, “Come here”.

You stood slowly, adjusting the strap of your dress which had fallen down your arm. Jason bracketed your hips and lifted you easily, letting your toned legs wrap around his waist. His lips moulded to yours, kissing you deeply. He could faintly taste himself on your tongue, the bitter arousal sparking through his body.

———

He carried you with ease through your apartment, occasionally banging into things along the way.

“Second d-door”, you moaned loudly when he bit your shoulder, “on the-the right”.

When you finally made it into your bedroom, after several stops along the way with Jason shoving you into the nearest wall, he dropped you down onto the bed.

You inched up the bedding slowly, watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. You made no show of hiding how much you admired his finely sculpted body. You licked your lips as his muscles flexed when he knelt onto the bed, grabbing one of your ankles.

“You’re wearing too many clothes”, he complained as his fingers travelled up your bare leg before finally reaching the hem of the dress.

“What are you going to do-”, the tear of fabric was loud in the room, Jason’s face was knitted with desire.

“Jason!!”, you scolded loudly as he continued to rip the flimsy material off your body, leaving you bare beneath him in a skimpy lace thong. You watched as he threw the offending material to the floor, his predatory gaze turning back to you.

“Get on your knees”, he commanded, ignoring your protests about your once beautiful dress, “Now”.

You wanted to argue, but the twisting coil in the pit of your stomach made you comply readily. You saw his pleased smirk before you rested your head against your forearms, pressing your ass and core to him.

He whistled appreciatively, slapping his hand over one of your cheeks. You moaned wantonly, muffling your cries into the flesh of your arm.

“Don’t you dare”, he growled and spanked you harder, your skin becoming hot and prickly, “I want to hear every sound you make”.

The thong you had on framed your ass perfectly, barely covering your glistening pussy. He smoothed two fingers through your silken core, sinking them into you slowly. Jason grunted when your walls tried to pull him further.

He removed his hand and spread your wetness along the back of your thigh, pushing your thong to the side. You whined in protest at the loss of sensation and pushed back. Jason gripped your hips tightly, halting your movement, “Tell me what you want princess”.

Heat crept over your flushed skin as he teased you, the tip of his cock sweeping through your sopping folds. You ignored his question and circled your hips, mewling his name.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back forcefully, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, “I said, tell me what you want”.

“Your cock”, your moans were depraved as you felt the overload of euphoria thrumming through your veins, “I want you to fuck me”.

Jason kissed the spot behind your ear, sucking a mark there before muttering, “Where are your manners princess?”.

You dug your nails into the sheets below in frustration before panting desperately, “Please Sir, please fuck me”.

He chuckled darkly behind you, tugging your hair again, before sinking his cock into your pussy fully. You cried out at the delicious sting as he stretched your walls with his thick girth.

Jason gave you no time to adjust before slamming his hips back into yours harshly, keeping your hair wound around his fist as he thrust into you.

The air was filled with the sounds of your debauched moans and his skin slapping into yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your first orgasm hit you without any warning.

Jason cursed behind you as your velvet walls spasmed around his cock, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became shallow as he drove harder into you, working you through your climax.

Changing the angle of his thrusts, the head of his shaft slammed against your g spot repeatedly as he ploughed faster into your pussy. You sobbed his name into the bed sheets, gripping them tightly. You were certain your nails were going to rip through the fabric.

“That’s it princess”, he coaxed, tugging your hair back, “I know you’ve got another one for me”. He snaked his hand around your front, rubbing over your clit furiously.

“Jason!”, you cried his name loudly, vision going blank as he fucked you into another powerful climax. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he fell into his own release, emptying himself in your tight core.

“Fuck!”, he rasped, releasing your hair and holding onto your hips as his thrusts slowed down to a complete still.

Pulling out of you, he groaned under his breath as he saw some of his seed drip down your folds. You collapsed down onto the bed, flat on your front, fighting to catch your breath. Jason dropped down next to you, relaxing on his back, his own chest heaving with deep pants.

You hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time. If ever. With the last of your energy, you rolled onto your side, a sly grin on your face, “Got time for another?”. Your fingers stroked down the grooves of his abs, following the dark trail of hair.

Jason grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, nipping at the pulse on your wrist, “Definitely”.

He pulled you on top of him, his hands moving up to cup your breasts as your lips danced together again, drinking in each other. You knew he would only be here for the night but, you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make the most of it.

***

#jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #ceo!jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader insert

[obsidiancreates]

Concerning Hobbits Who Cause A Great Deal Of Concern

Sequel to There and Back Again (Starting From The End)

Bilbo picks over the pile of supplies in front of him. "Extra clothes, good, maps, good, plenty of water jugs- won't be making that mistake twice, not after that holiday when Frodo was a lad-"

Gandalf clears his throat in the doorway, and Bilbo waves him in without looking up. "Come in, come in. Do you suppose I could find a good walking stick somewhere out in the desolation? Nevermind, I expect not. Let's see here- ah! Yes, yes, perfect." Bilbo holds up a small chain, meant for a delicate pendant. "Frodo wore the ring on a chain such as this, to resist it's temptations. I think I shall follow his lead. He was the one to do this quest first, after all."

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf says, slowly entering the decrepit supply room of Erebor's less ruined halls. "You owe us all some answers, I think."

"I explained it already, didn't I? I've been sent back from countless years in the future to prevent- well, prevent it all." Bilbo rifles through the pile some more. "The war, the misery, the deaths. I'm making grand plans for the coming years, Gandalf. Frodo told me as many stories as he could in the years before my return, and there's more souls in need of saving than I'm prepared for yet. We'll have to finish up this quest as quickly as we can, if I'm to settle in here and then get back to The Shire before poor Drogo and Primula meet their ends."

"Every word you utter brings more questions than answers," Gandalf huffs. "You told Gloin his son would face Sauron himself, prophesied my death and resurrection, and in the same breath pulled Thorin Oakenshield to your lips and have left him in a daze ever since!"

"I've tried telling him to come help me pack," Bilbo mutters. "Of course he's dazed, Gandalf, I myself didn't realize what exactly I felt until after his death before! It's only been a couple of days, he'll shake it off."

"Bilbo." Gandalf puts his hand on his dear friend's shoulder. "I ask you as not only a friend, but a wizard concerned for the safety of Middle-Earth... and your own mind. What did you see, before facing the kings?"

"I 'saw' nothing, Gandalf, I lived. And it's hard to say, exactly, what I lived. After my hundred and eleventh it all goes a bit... hazy, and grows hazier the longer I'd gone on, frought with only fits of clear mind. But I remember enough." Bilbo pulls a broken spear shaft from the pile, tests it's weight and width in his hand, and then grabs a small whittling knife and begins to attempt to shape it into a good walking stick.

Gandalf sits next to him. "Then help me be prepared, my friend. You seek to lead us all into the heart of Sauron's very fortress. What did your young nephew face on his same journey?"

"Well, we shan't be taking quite the same path, I think." Bilbo pulls a map out of his bag. "He went somewhere along this path, lead on by that foul creature Gollum from about here to here. I shouldn't like to encounter the mother of the Mirkwood spiders like he and Samwise did- but I shouldn't like to go to the Black Gates either, if they yet exist."

Gandalf watches Bilbo with his pipe sitting unpuffed in his lips and palm, his ancient eyes fraught with concern. Bah. Bilbo's seen that look for- well, not even he knows how long. It's hardly a deterrent.

"How often have you used The Ring, Bilbo?"

"I expect you have your suspicions. I used it first in the goblin tunnels, of course, and then again in Mirkwood- terrible, terrible business in Mirkwood. Such a strange thing, Gandalf, to have it guide my hands. I knew it was evil then, but also that I needed it." It's hard to push the words out, though one would never guess by Bilbo's strong and steady tone.

Some part of him still shrieks to keep it secret, safe, unknown to others. But that part is very new, very young, and the older feeling of Obsession mingles with it in a way that diminishes them both- like adding together equal parts vinegar and honey, until it taste like neither and is altogether repulsive to taste.

"And then in Thranduil's halls, of course- did we ever explain that part of the journey to you? Ah, Thanduil mentioned it when I brought the Arkenstone, so I'm sure you don't need me to. Again with Smaug, though it was very little use against him. Then again when I ran to Ravenhill, and again to kill Azog. That's how often I've used it in this life and body, at the very least."

"And in the life before?"

"Too many times to count," Bilbo groans. "I used it to hide from unwanted visitors and relatives! Can you believe it? The thing that could destroy all of Middle-Earth, and I used it to avoid neighbors. Well, I didn't know any better, I suppose, and I'll admit I'm likely to miss the ability when I return home- not to stay, mind you. I left Erebor all those years ago because I couldn't stand living here when Thorin, Fili, and Kili weren't around to fill it. Thorin most of all."

Bilbo shakes his head. "But I'll still need to settle things with Bag End! I hope you're grateful, by the way, Gandalf. In the past before I returned home within thirteen months of running out my door and they'd already auctioned off most of my belongings. I expect I'll get home to a smial full of Sackville-Baggins belongs and a Shire full of my scattered heirlooms. It'll take me ages to round it all up again to leave for Frodo and Sam and Sam's sweet. Perhaps this time I'll get to know those children as they grow- Sam was always telling us about how impressive his children were, heh."

Gandalf finally puffs on his pipe, seemingly relaxing. "You're quite a different fellow in your old age."

"Yes, it does tend to do that," Bilbo mutters. "As do a great many other things. I should like to blame some of my later eccentricities on The Ring, but in truth I think I should have become so odd even without it." Bilbo gives up on the broken spear shaft with a huffs. "Right, I'm going to search outside for something more suitable."

"Perhaps take a companion with you." Gandalf's eyes twinkle. "A certain wide-eyed Dwarf king is in great need of some air, after you stole it from his chest."

"Ha!" Bilbo grins, wide and bright, in a way Gandalf has rarely seen- if ever. It's full of hope and promise. "Good idea, old friend."

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

Bilbo leads the way as he and Thorin go out to the mountain side. Thorin watches him, wary and wondering all at once, and Bilbo could savor the feeling of it forever.

"Alright now, Thorin, I'm the same Hobbit as before," Bilbo says, bending down to try an ancient branch broken from a burned tree corpse. "No need to get all strange about talking with me."

"But are you?" Thorin watches Bilbo with analyzing and admiring eyes. "You speak differently than you did only days ago."

"Alright, I've gotten wordier in my years," Bilbo admits. "And more sure of the words I wish to say before I say them. But that doesn't mean I'm some strange new hobbit unknown to you."

"Does it not?" Thorin picks up a stick as well, though it's clear he's not focused on it, merely feigning participation in the activity. "The Bilbo I knew wasn't one to..."

"Pull you in for a kiss?" Bilbo guesses. "Believe me, I wanted to, but I only admitted it to myself when it was... too late. That kiss was ages overdue, Thorin."

"How long overdue?" Thorin moves even closer. "How long did you live, beyond my death?"

"It's hard to recall, exactly." Bilbo pauses, hands on his knees, looking out at the snow-dusted mountainside. "I can't seem to track the years after I went to Rivendell again, but I was a hundred and eleven then, and I know a great many years passed after that. I could be thousands of years old now for all I know, though few of those years lived in a stable state of mind, so I don't know if they should count."

"Is a hundred and eleven... old, for a hobbit?"

"Well, my grandfather Old Took lived to be one hundred and thirty, so it's not impossibly old, but I barely aged until I passed The Ring to Frodo. And then it all sort of... caught up to me at once. I'd intended to return here, but deteriorated far too much by the time I made it to Rivendell."

Thorin picks up another stick and offers it to Bilbo for examination. "So you know very little of the quest ahead of us."

"I know enough," Bilbo says pointedly, shooting Thorin a look. "I know that if we wait, Sauron will grow armies larger than even what we faced already, and whole kingdoms will fall to ruin under his heel. I know that Gimli, only a lad as he is now, will venture into Moria with his Fellowship and find the bodies of our very own Balin and Ori before losing Gandalf to Durin's Bane."

Thorin sucks in a breath. "Durin's Bane? It still lives in the depths?"

"Lives and rages, and my terrible Took cousin leads it right to them," Bilbo says, shaking his head. "I'd often thought Fili and Kili had been reborn as hobbits, when Meriadoc and Peregrin began their antics." Bilbo's mouth twitches into a smile, a familiar expression to Thorin and something Bilbo had been told he'd stopped doing on a rare visit from- well, he can't quite remember which dwarf it was who came to visit, actually. Only that they'd said he'd changed quite a bit, but it wasn't bad change- simply unexpected.

'Like you lot,' he remembers saying back, 'Nearly knocking down my door.' He remembers they'd laughed. He still can't place who it was. Perhaps his memory is not as sharp as he'd hoped it'd be, in this new life, new youth.

Now, in the New Present, Bilbo finally finds a suitable walking stick- it just needs a little adjusting and it'll be perfect.

"Now that, is an amusement," Thorin chuckles. "I can't imagine it."

"You won't have to, someday." Bilbo puts his hand on Thorin's arm. "I intend to make trips to Hobbiton every few years, after all- I should like to save dear Frodo's parents, save his heart from that grief, but I won't remove myself from his life for the sake of it. He'll go mad without my stories, as will little Sam. I hope you're prepared to have about... four more nephews."

Thorin's eyebrows raise. "Very presumptuous of you, Master Baggins."

Bilbo rises to his tip-toes and pecks Thorin's lips. "I don't believe it's an unfounded presumption, though. The mithril shirt is a bit of an obvious show, I think."

Thorin blushes.

"Worth more than the entire Shire, apparently. And here I'd tucked it into a chest for sixty years."

"Into a chest?"

"Don't look like that, I was in grief. Besides, I passed it to Frodo, and it apparently served him very well."

"I'm impatient to meet this nephew of yours. He sounds like he'd belong with us as much as you do."

"No, no. He's a brave, kind, worthy soul, but a soul who belongs to the little rivers and rolling hills of The Shire more than he belongs to the world at large. Perhaps it'll be different this time, with no need for a terrible quest, but I have some doubts. Still, I think you'll get along. He has great spirit."

Bilbo, arm-in-arm now with Thorin, leads them both back to the entrance. "Dain will do very well looking after Erebor while we journey, by the way. I'm sure you knew it already, but I thought it might help to know that he was a great ruler in my life passed- according to passing stories, anyway."

"It makes leaving no easier."

"I know." Bilbo rubs Thorin's arm with his thumb. "But we'll be home soon, Thorin. And then we can truly rebuild."

#the hobbit #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #gandalf #thorin oakenshield #thorin x bilbo

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom. John wants to buy Mrs. Hudson a present, and Sherlock is quite willing to help.

Expedition at nighttime

“Have you ever been to a mall before, Sherlock?” John asks one evening.

Sherlock who’s been sprawled on the sofa, sits up at this unconventional question.

“A mall, John? Whatever for? And besides, I don’t care for your assault on the English language by using American substitutes,” Sherlock scoffs.

“Oh, excuse me, Your Highness, but mall is quite a bit easier to say than shopping centre. Now, will you answer my question or not?” John proceeds unperturbed. 

Sherlock sighs dramatically and adds an impressive eyeroll for good measure before he answers.

“Mummy used to take us to Harrod’s to see the Christmas decorations, but it’s been decades. Why on earth do you ask? You’re not exactly a fan of shopping. Last time you went to Tesco I believe you had a row with a chip and…”

“Yes, enough of reminding me of that, thank you very much,” John states briskly and flushes adoringly.  

Sherlock just cocks an eyebrow at him encouraging John to answer properly.

“Fine. It’s just…I thought we could buy Mrs. Hudson something nice for her birthday next week,” John sighs and rubs his neck.

“Ah, yes! Tesco won’t suffice, I take it,” Sherlock muses.

“Sherlock!” 

“I was teasing you, John. Calm down. Well, perhaps I can be of assistance. The owner of Selfridges owes me…”

“Let me guess – a favour?” John chuckles.

Sherlock just waves a dismissive hand at him, retrieves his phone from his trouser pocket and sends a text.

***

John gets Sherlock’s text at his lunch break, and almost chokes on his BLT-sandwich.

We’re going to Selfridges tonight at 11.30. SH

They’re closed at that hour, Sherlock.

As expected, John gets no answer to his text.

Sherlock’s out when John gets home from the surgery, but there’s a note underneath the skull.

Be ready at 11 pm. SH

“So, I take it you won’t need dinner then,” John mutters under his breath.

Despite his exasperation with his best friend, he can’t help the tingling sensation in his body when he thinks about their nightly excursion.

True to his word, Sherlock arrives in a cab at 11pm, and John’s standing at the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street and waits eagerly.

When they reach the large building on Oxford Street, an impeccably dressed man greets Sherlock vigorously. John is actually quite proud of Sherlock for not insulting the man with an embarrassing deduction, but instead puts on a smile, everyone close to Sherlock would know is a fake.

“Mr. Holmes, it’s a pleasure to finally get to help you out,” the man says, still shaking Sherlock’s hand.

“Well, yes, Mr. Dougherty. I’m glad you are amenable to my peculiar request,” Sherlock replies, and succeeds to withdraw his hand from the other man’s grip.

“This is, Jo…”

“Come in, Mr. Holmes,” Mr. Dougherty says with admiration seeping out of every pore, totally ignoring John.

Sherlock stiffens immediately and a cold look in his eyes, tells John that Sherlock’s beyond annoyed. Mr. Dougherty’s clearly oblivious to the change in Sherlock’s demeanour and chats about trivialities neither John nor Sherlock comment on.

“I’ll call at your office when we’re finished,” Sherlock says and swirls around, heading to the escalators. “Come on, John.”

Mr. Dougherty gapes like a fish on land, and John can’t help but smirk. Flirting with Sherlock Holmes is one thing, disregarding John when Sherlock’s tried to introduce him, is a thing Mr. Dougherty might live to regret.

***

Being alone in this grand building with the lights dimmed, adds something mysterious to the whole experience. John feels like he’s in a movie, and he finds the shadows a bit eerie, but a glance over at Sherlock makes him grin, and he’s determined to enjoy this ridiculous ride.

Avoiding Christmas and birthdays himself, should’ve made Sherlock uninterested in buying gifts, but what John’s about to experience, is that he’s a rather skilled shopper.

Sherlock’s obviously memorised the map showing the different shops, and heads confident to the food department, scans the items for a few seconds, before he grabs a glass of vanilla honey and a gift set of different teas. He shows them to John for approval.

“What do you think, John? Will she like these?” he asks, his eyes glow in the dim light.

“You know she will,” John says and takes the offered gifts while Sherlock turns to the escalators. 

“Glove department, next,” Sherlock tells John.

John shakes his head in amusement. Sherlock acts like a child being set free at Hamley’s.

***

Sherlock’s delicate fingers stroke over smooth leather, and John must swallow hard at the sight. He’s placed the other items at a nearby counter and leans closer to look at the different gloves Sherlock’s picked out. The proximity and Sherlock’s unique scent, makes John’s head dizzy. Without thinking he moves closer and steadies himself with a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. Sherlock inhales sharply and closes his eyes briefly.

“John,” he breathes, his deep voice stirring something in John. Something that’s lingered in the bottom of his heart for what feels like decades.

“Come here,” John murmurs and lifts his other hand to Sherlock’s jaw, cupping it gently.

A moan escapes Sherlock and his eyes opens slowly to gaze into John’s. He forgets all about gloves and pulls John to him with a tenderness John didn’t think Sherlock was capable of. He licks his lips and brushes his thumb over the perfect mouth above him. Sherlock’s tongue darts out and licks quickly before retreating.

“Tease,” John whispers, before Sherlock closes the gap between them and kisses him.

I just walked by the building last week, and it seemed only natural to let the boys have an unusual excursion to the posh establishment.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @blogstandbygo

#sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #flashfiction #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #johnlock

[inklessletter]

What if the scene in the woods turned up a little bit differently? What if-

"I guess I got a little jealous, Steve," Eddie said nonchalant, clearly looking for a reaction. Steve looked at him with a confused expression on his face. "Because I couldn't accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude."

Steve looked down, frown on his face. Eddie kept going.

"Rich parents? Popular? Chicks love him? Not a douche? No-"

"Wait, what?" Steve stopped on his track.

"I mean, you know," Eddie did a gesture with his hand, as if it was self explanatory.

"No, no I don't. None of those things are true."

"Uhm, did you forget that we went to the same high school, King Steve?" Eddie joked. Steve huffed a humorless laugh.

"Yeah, well. It's all bullshit," Steve spat the word. "Maybe we remember high school a little differently. I was the worst version of myself when I was popular. Then I decided I wanted to be a better person, and all my friends disappeared. I went to my graduation alone, and I mean, alone. Not even my parents showed up, since I barely graduated, and I had no acceptance letter. I had no friends there. I was not popular, I was useful, until I stopped being of use," Steve scoffed.

Eddie didn't dare to speak.

"Oh, and yeah, because of that, my parents cut me off. Yeah, my family might have money, but I've been working my ass off since I was sixteen in summer jobs because my father has been rubbing in my face everything they do for me and I still keep disappointing them," he said. Steve knew he was rambling, and maybe he should stop, but he was down hill no breaks now. "I came back from the hospital after fucking Hargrove gave me a concussion and migraines for life, and the first thing my father said to me was how much of a pussy I was for having lost a fight, and that they were absolutely not paying the hospital bill, so I owed them three grands for that," Steve took air, and he dropped his volume. "I saw your uncle defending you. He loves you," he mumbles. "You're richer than me, believe me."

"Ah, and for the chicks love me thing?" he stopped, and so did Eddie. Steve pointed Nancy a few steps ahead, "Wheeler over there, I used to think she was the love of my life. We dated for a year, you know. Senior year. She dumped me," he looked Eddie dead in the eye, and he could swear he could see the pain in his face. "She called bullshit everything we had, and I had to accept that. I've been looking for what I thought we had in almost every girl in Hawkins, and all I can find are girls that are infatuated by that King Steve reputation I had, and that's--that's the real bullshit," Steve said and his lip trembled. "And I'm having a hard time coming to terms that maybe I am not meant to be loved how I thought I could be, so, no, Munson. Don't get this confuse you," he points at her again, "this upside down shit is what keeps us orbiting around each other. Trauma." Steve took a deep breath. "But no. Chicks don't love me."

They locked gazes for a second.

"They never did."

Steve looked down again and resumed his way. Eddie could not.

"Still jealous of me?"

#pre steddie #stranger things #woods scene rewrite #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

[thecameronchronicles]

You Were Just Supposed To Be A Diversion

TW: Smut. teasing with cheating. Language. A bit enemies to lovers.

SUMMARY: After seeing your boyfriend flirt with another girl, you turn your sights to JJ Maybank, who is all too happy to assist in your diversions…

WORD COUNT: 2500

*Requested* 

You Were Just Supposed To Be A Diversion

If given the choice you would be absolutely anywhere else than here. Although you were surrounded by the glitz and glamor of the upper classes, which you had been a part of as this was a birth right of being a ‘Kook’, you craved life outside of this suffocating circle. To make matters worse, your boyfriend, one of the members of the ‘death squad’ had been shamelessly flirting with one of the girls across the party as you found your limit to have been reached. Between the impossible standards asked by your family of perfect grades that contradicted the need of your friends to have the ideal social life, backhanded compliments and judgements exchanged while trying to appease everyone, you decided to enact revenge against those you were supposed to want to please and impress. 

And you would spot this ‘revenge’ in the form of a six-foot blonde surfer who was currently carrying a tray of champagne flutes, sneaking a sip when he believed nobody had noticed him. But you had. To be honest, you always had when he was intertwined with Kook events-which was rare, and yet, a godsend tonight. Without a care of your friends whispering what you were doing as you’d passed them and moved to JJ Maybank, you would clear your throat before offering a kind smirk. 

“I won’t say anything if you let me have one.” 

“Sorry princess, not sure ‘getting the prom queen drunk’ is something I can live with…” He teased as your eyes narrowed at him. 

“Prom queen?”

“Sorry…are you not?” Your eyes sharpened further as his reputation of flirting with anyone that moved seemed not only untrue but also a complete twist against how he was treating you at this moment. 

“Either way…don’t know what you’re talking about-” In his attempt to move beyond you, the sight of your boyfriend scoffing at what was a clear rejection from a ‘pogue’, you would step in front of him to state your case. 

“You see that meathead over there? The one staring at us and laughing right now?” He would look at your boyfriend before slowly nodding. 

“A meathead IS laughing, yes…”

“Yeah…Well I’ll owe you if you can just pretend you’re into me.” His eyes descended you for a moment, taking in your ensemble before letting out a deep breath. 

“And what would I get out of it? That’s QUITE a request…”

You cocked your jaw. “Two hundred dollars?” Now his eyes would narrow. 

“You see, I’ve got a reputation to protect and us pogues mixing with your crowd…just…”

“Three?

“And all the shit I’ll have to deal with once word gets back to MY friends-”

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Damn…Okay…” He nodded, leaning closer to you, “But you can’t fall in love with me…” He teased as you rolled your eyes, suddenly wishing you had chosen ANYONE else but him. And yet, with the deal made, you pulled yourself behind him as he led you to the bar set up at the edge of the Island Inn. 

“NOW can I have a drink?”

“Let me guess…wine-no Mai Tai…” You scoffed. 

“Whiskey. Neat. Two cherries.” 

“Okay…” You ignored the judgment on his face as he watched you bite the cherries in half, squirting the juice into the whiskey, before taking it behind your lips. 

“Prom queen can drink…”

“I wasn’t even a candidate…” You answered for clarification. 

“Shame…you fit the bill…”

“You know what…” You began to rebuttal before feeling him lean across the bar and pulling a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“He’s watching us…So tell me…what is so horrible about him that you’re willing to pay me half a grand but not SO horrible that you won’t just dump his ass?” You clenched your jaw, momentarily lost in the temptation of his lips before offering a response. 

“His dad is in business with mine…actually…His dad is the reason my dad HAS a job…I do anything even remotely out of place and that’s thrown in my face…”

“So THIS does what?”

“It gives me one night to not care-”

“You didn’t say the whole night…THAT would be extra…” You rolled your eyes as he now lowered his hand to yours, tracing small circles over your fist that lightened to his touch. 

“And why me? Just curious…”

“Because…you’re the one that would piss him off the most…”

“Fair…” He now pulled back and took hold of your wrist as he led you away from the party. 

“What are you-”

“He’s gonna keep watching you…let’s give him something to watch..” JJ’s fingers began to dismantle his suit ensemble until he was in only his boxers. It wasn’t until you watched him move towards the water that you’d understand his intentions, all while your eyes couldn’t help but admire the scene. He was obnoxious and stubborn, but damn, he was nice to look at…

“Well, coming prom queen?”

“Stop calling me that!” You grunted through clenched teeth before following him into the water, keeping the slip of your dress intact, as he would tear you along the waves breaking on the shoreline. 

“I bet you’ve never laughed with him once…” He asked once setting you down, your body now saturated from the water and looking at his own disheveled appearance made even more attractive by his wet locks clinging to his face, now pushed away by his fingers, and the moonlight kissing his skin. 

“Maybe laughed AT him…”

“You know for someone who hates kooks so much, you have a lot of opinions about us…”

“I don’t hate all kooks-just he entitled ones…But…” He pulled you into him, hands on your waist making you nervous, as he looked back to the direction of the close border of the party, where your boyfriend stood. 

“Maybe once your types get the sticks out of their asses, they can be fun…”

“You think I have a stick?” You pushed him away and began to splash him, initiating a rather immature yet humorous war that ended once the temperature had gotten the best of you. Shivering from the mixture of cold water and a lack of covering, he would offer you his jacket, before leading you back up the beach. Draping his arm across your shoulders, he led you directly in front of your boyfriend before taking you into the hotel itself. 

“Where’d you get the shiner? Hard to believe anybody would want to ruin that pretty face…not like you don’t give ample reason-” He cocked his head to your sarcasm. 

“Aww you think I have a pretty face?”

“Pretty annoying-sorry, other word just didn’t come out..” He pushed you away in a nudge. 

“Was it one of ours or yours?” His eyes narrowed. 

“The stick-up-asses crowd or-”

“Oh…nope…one of ours…” His eyes fell away in a drift as you would hear your name called by your boyfriend. For this, you moved quickly to your feet, JJ’s jacket falling off of your shoulders,which led him to lean down and pick it up, taken aback and forced into a stumble, as you carried him to the direction of the dance floor inside. 

“If I would have known how touchy you were gonna be, I would have asked for at least seven fifty-”

“Just…pull me close and act like I don’t disgust you right now…”

“It’s more like a nauseating-” You silenced him by pulling him into you. 

“Have you ever even danced with a girl before?” You teased, guiding his hands to your hips and instructing his sway as he blushed. 

“You haven’t, have you?”

“Not like most girls require that…but your types probably have a checklist don’t you?”

“A checklist?”

He nodded. “Yeah before someone can…get behind that chastity belt…you know..make love to you…” He searched his words carefully as you looked away with a scoff. 

“Can'’ tell me you’re the type to rough and tumble-”

“Why do you care?”

“Just curious-makin’ conversation…”

“Maybe not a list or anything but…something more than a beer a single compliment would be nice-”

“You think that’s all I’d do?”

“I can’t imagine YOU have that high of standards.” To this he cocked his jaw before slowly nodding, your expression reading through your regret, as you went to speak before he’d interrupt you. 

“First…I’d make every single excuse to touch her…get close to her…Make her feel wanted and safe…” He explained, his sudden pull of you against him inciting a gasp as he narrated these words along with his actions. 

“And then I’d tease her-not to be mean…to show her what was to come…” He led his lips in a brush against your own but instead moving to your ear, your eyes fluttering closed at the taunting. 

“Then I would whisper in her ear of all the ways she drove me crazy…How badly I want her…” You swallowed hard as he’d pull back from you, locking your eyes. 

“Tell her I bet she tastes like cherries and whiskey…And I couldn’t wait to find out…” His head cocked as you focused a second too long on his eyes for this to remain a ruse. But just before you allowed your body the relief of acting on this impulse, you were pulled away by your boyfriend’s hand. 

“You done with your little charade? You’ve done enough-I’m taking you home-”

“Let go of me-”

“How do you think my dad will-”

“I don’t care!” You shouted back as JJ looked at you with a supportive, ‘go get ‘em’ expression as he remained nearby but not intervening as he wanted you to do what you felt you needed to. 

“You want to throw around your threats, I have my own-”

“Oh really…like what?”

“Like…what happened last summer in Cancun…that video of Sarah you have on your phone under-”

“You little bitch-”

“Okay…think you’ve had YOUR fun now…” JJ stepped in front of you as he squared off against your boyfriend. 

“What do you want, pogue, huh? Wanna leave your blood on the floor here? Because that’s the only way you belong here…”

“Apologize.”

Your boyfriend scoffed, pulling back a swing that JJ would dodge before getting one of his own, shaking off his hand before turning back to you. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m-JJ!” Before you could offer a warning, he was knocked off kilter, where he would then falter to his palms and knees, rising with a pulled fist before security made their way to the fight. 

“He’s my guest.” You defended JJ as his eyes widened to you, a similar look of surprise as what was over your boyfriend’s face. 

“If he’s anything to you, you’re nothing to me. Just a charity case I’ve put up with because of your ass, a cheap, worthless one at that…” JJ tried to move to defend you, but you would take a step closer to your boyfriend, who only grinned wider at your attempts to rival him. 

“At least this ass knows when to walk away…This ‘ass’ is one you’ll never get again…But enjoy watching it leave you behind…” To this, you moved from the scene and towards the bathroom, the rush of adrenaline and fear having brought tears to your eyes. 

“That was pretty badass, prom queen, I didn’t think you had it in you to stand against your own-” JJ spoke as you suddenly turned and rushed him, his cheeks between your hands as he stood for a moment in complete awe. But only for a moment before he initiated his own, hands to your waist and lifting you up to the sink as you wrapped your legs around him. 

“I’m only gonna ask once-”

“You don’t have to even do that…” You explained, pushing him just far enough away so you could shimmy out of your panties, and dispose of them at the side of the sink. 

“Yes ma’am…” He teased as you rolled your eyes before he moved back to you, your legs accepting him once again, as his fingers ran through your hair and down your waist while your fingers reached for his belt. Once it was free, you slipped your hand into his seam, feeling an impressive erection now within your grasp. 

“Fuck…” He breathed, his hands coming to your shoulders as your vision caught the evidence of having defended you, knuckles bloody and bruised. 

For this, you slowed the strokes made from his shaft and carried his dominant hand to view. His eyes fixated on you as you kissed softly across his hand, avoiding the broken skin, before taking his finger behind your lips. Eyes locked and lowered as if it had been his cock, you sucked in slow succession while continuing to pump him. 

“Come here…” He growled, groaning as he buried himself into you, a gasp leaving your lips, before he began his slow climb to a steady pace. 

“Fuck, prom queen-” You quickly wrapped your hand around his mouth. 

“Say that again and this stops-” He nodded, your hand falling once realizing he understood.

“What do you want me to call you then?” He questioned, needing something to belt as he climbed to that edge. 

“Right now?” He nodded, waiting patiently. 

“Yours…” He groaned, turning you towards the mirror and replacing himself inside of you once again. 

“Mine? You wanna be mine? This is how you’re gonna let me do it, yeah?” You nodded, chuckling as he wrapped his fingers in your hair and pulled you up just enough to witness his own expressions twisting in pleasure. 

“JJ!”

“I want him to hear you…louder…for me…” He ordered softly as you obeyed, the echo of your moans filling the space around you as this would only find interruption between his own moans and that of skin coming into contact with met skin. 

“I’m gonna-J!”

“Come for me, baby…oh shit…I’m close!” He groaned as you both built to that sexual crescendo, a mix of moans and curses filling the air before he pulled you as tight to him as possible to savor every final twitch left by your inner walls. 

“You two have made your point…You cleared out the entire fucking hotel-” A voice belonging to someone you didn’t recognize by their timbre alone had called to you as you blushed. He would help you redress, pulling down your skirt as you reached into the pocket of your phone case to remove a hundred dollar bill. 

“I can get you the rest tomorrow-”

“Save it…”

“You don’t want it?”

He shrugged, his eyes descending on you for a second in admiration instead of amusement.

 “Guess I got something out of this after all…” He gave a wink before abandoning you in the bathroom, leaving you wanting more of him. Whether that meant one more night, one more touch, one more kiss, you didn’t know. You just knew you wanted more…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @pankhoeforlife

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jjsmut #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx smut

[rae-pottah]

Don't Trust A Malfoy (Pt. 4 Final Part)

Fandom: Take a guess (Harry Potter)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Warnings: they/them pronouns, trauma, bad parenting, (your probably used to both if you're reading this) ( that was a joke don't take offense), events are taken out of order from the story, shitty writing. Some People Live (Lemme know if I missed anything)

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

*Y/n's POV*

"Holly shit! Y/N!" I hear Fred yell, right before everything goes black, I feel Draco holding me up and everything is gone

****

As I start to regain my consciousness, I can feel a hand in mine

"Have you been here this whole time?" I let out with a dry throat

"Huh- Y/n! MUM! THEY'RE AWAKE!" he raised his head with a smile and a tear running down his face, he shouts through the building

"Hey, stop yelling" I say with my hand on my head "Where is Draco?"

"In his new room, he's explained the situation, even shook hands with the lil' heroic trio, I'm glad you're out of there love" he says seriously, the pet name bringing a blush to my face, suddenly the door is opened and everyone rushed in

"Oh dear, I'm Glad you're okay"

"Y/N!" Draco runs over and hugs me as tight as he can

"Ow" I let out, feeling slight pain still in my muscles

"Sorry! Sorry! Are you okay?" he asks quite worriedly

"I'm just glad we got out, and I'm glad I still have you" I plant a small kiss on the top of his head

"Me too!" he said with a small smile, I see out of the corner of my eye Sirius with a small smile, I know whats running through his head, he wished Regulus was still with us, as do I, one of my favorite Uncles that one, I trade my look to Fred who was looking at me already, like I held up the world, like nothing would matter, so long as I was okay

"I like your eyes" I didn't even know I said it out loud until George piped up

"Ae! We have the same eyes! So what about mine!" Ginny elbow's him in the side, I look at his eyes, but they're more dusty

"Nah, he has brighter eyes" I point at Fred

--later that day--

I had found Sirius sitting at a chair in the main room, all by himself, he'd been going through old pictures

"He didn't blame you, y'know" he snaps his head to me "He looked up to you actually, when he had time he would come around" I walked around the sofa and sat down "He would always talk about the grand adventures you had with your friends... He said he hoped I could have that someday" I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, and see his "Uncle Reggie, he said he was proud to have a brother like you, he would talk you up and I couldn't wait to meet you! Talked about how he knew one day you would fight and defeat Voldemort with the people you loved" I could see the tears streaking down his face as he looked at me in shock "He didn't blame you for leaving" I said confidently, I got up to leave him with his thoughts when all of a sudden I got pulled back by my wrist into a hug I froze, I hugged him back but it was weird, I had only ever hugged my friends, not a father figure

"I will do my absolute best to be the best possible Uncle or whatever you'd like to call me, to you AND Draco both. Thank you for saying that." I hugged him as tight as possible and didn't want to let go

--That night--

I sat on the balcony watching the stars as thoughts of Fred flood my head

"Bit cold, innit?" I hear Fred's voice

"slightly" at that second I feel a jacket wrapped around me "oh- thank you, what about you?"

"Oh- I'll be fine" he nearly stutters out "What you doing out here anyway?"

"Just thinking"

"about?"

"You. Me. Us." I let out anxiously

"Us... that's a frightening topic"

"trust me I know" I wrap his jacket around me tighter

"So, what are you thinking about us?" he asks curiously

"I think I like you... a lot.." I turn to see his sly smile

"I know I like you... a lot" his smirk gets wider

"When did you know?" his smile then gets bashful

"Uh- heh- probably about forth year... right after we pranked you, you had pranked us right back, and- well I fell for you" he suddenly found the stars interesting as well

"Oh?"

"yeh, probably fell in love with you in 6th year, when you told Umbrige to 'Go piss up a rope, Voldy Moldy is back" I look at him with wide eyes

"You're in love with me?"

"I hope that's okay?" he asked worriedly, I quickly put my back against the chair

"I think it is" I let out in a whisper, somehow he heard it and smiled brightly, he takes my hand, and I pull him forward, touching my lips to his, confirming all my suspicions...

I truly do love him

All of a sudden I heard Ron

"MAYBE LOCK IT NEXT TIME DRACO"

"BLEACH, I NEED BLEACH, MY POOR EYES"

"Totally called it, you owe me 2 galleons." I say to Fred, he sighed as he handed me the money

--------

2 minutes ago:

*Ron's POV*

I needed to talk to Harry, Draco had apologized, but its quite difficult to just up and drop blind hatred

"Oh fuck" I hear Harry's voice, I thought he might have dropped something because I could hear him getting off his bed.. so I walked in

"AAHHHHHHHH, MY EYES" I slapped my hand over my eyes and heard Draco

"Maybe knock next time, Ron" he said sounding almost sorry for me, I ran out of the room screaming back after closing the door

"MAYBE LOCK IT NEXT TIME DRACO"

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

Hope you liked this lol

#fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts houses #hogwarts oc #malfoy x potter #drarry

[acollectionofficsandshit]

Chapter 14: Three of Us

Max Verstappen x Reader (Single Dad AU)

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 11,661 Words

Masterlist

I’d like to thank @lightsovermonaco for being my beta and for more importantly keeping me sane because without her influence it’s anyone’s guess where I’d be. I also owe @sassybatflowerpaper an enormous thank you, not only for being my friend but because this story, at it’s very core, is our love child.

Sunday, November 18th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco

The Penthouse

"Who knows? She might change her mind... might be back as soon as tomorrow or Tuesday," the false bravado with which Max makes this declaration might be enough to sway himself into believing the insanity of his own words but it doesn’t quite do the trick for Daniel, not by a long shot.

"Because you never really know, do you? Anything could happen! Isn't that what people say?”

He just stares blankly back at his teammate, not saying a word but not needing to; his silence speaks for itself, more than capable of holding its own. 

"That is what people say, right? Did I get it wrong?" Max asks in a rush, sounding genuinely concerned by the mere possibility he’d somehow managed to get the phrasing so incorrect that it was indecipherable and well beyond any hope of Daniel’s recognition, “it's simple and it sounds right in my head, but I guess I could have-"

"I mean, yeah, mate, they do. They definitely do say that... sometimes," he was doing his very best to not let the laugh building in his chest out because he wasn't a fucking idiot and he knew damn well that the worst thing he conceivably do right now would be to so much as chuckle once.

Oh, he was fully fucking aware that it was infinitely more probable that Max would take kindly to having Daniel spit in his face than he ever would to being openly laughed at the moment– and he could respect that.

"See?" the younger man says proudly, gesturing as if the tentative, begrudging concession he'd just made was some sort of irrefutable evidence, which hadn't come with a very obvious 'but' hanging over its very head, "you said so yourself-"

"But normally, when people say 'anything can happen' they usually mean things that could actually feasibly happen or, you know, like natural disasters and shit? Not like your kind of thing because those, those, are in an entirely different neighborhood... like they're in one that doesn't exist."

Because unlike the delusions that plague his companion, Daniel isn't blinded to the realities of the situation. Thank God for small mercies, which at the very least meant it wouldn't be blind leading the blind– at least not yet. He didn't know if he could stomach the circumstances devolving to such indignities this early on in the grand scheme of things.

"See?" the younger man says proudly, gesturing as if the tentative, begrudging concession he'd just made was some sort of irrefutable evidence, which hadn't come with a very obvious 'but' hanging over its very head, "you said so yourself-"

"But normally, when people say 'anything can happen' they usually mean things that could actually feasibly happen or, you know, like natural disasters and shit? Not like your kind of thing because those, those, are in an entirely different neighborhood... like they're in one that doesn't exist."

Because unlike the delusions that plague his companion, Daniel isn't blinded to the realities of the situation. Thank God for small mercies, which at the very least meant it wouldn't be blind leading the blind– at least not yet. He didn't know if he could stomach the circumstances devolving to such indignities this early on in the scope of things.

Not when they still had the better part of a week to get through, preferably mostly unscathed with all their limbs still attached. Well, that was if you asked Daniel how long they had left, rather than taking Max at his word, since he seemed to be the only one out of the two of them who had any true, lasting intention of holding loyal to fact– which in this particular instance was the definitive timeframe you'd given for when you'd be back.

That went without even mentioning the reality of just how fucking far you'd been pushed in recent weeks, where there was no doubt in his mind that the physical and mental drain of the season had only further exacerbated the considerable emotional toll that your responsibilities, Max and Kaia had taken on you, all of which had been compounded by the meeting at Red Bull last week.

Because it was crystal fucking clear to Daniel what exactly, or perhaps who exactly, it was that had been the very last straw, that had dealt the final blow to your defenses and had brought every thought, emotion and unresolved conflict you'd been so neatly tucked away to face at a later date, when there was the time to do such a thing, crashing down over your head... though such obvious conclusions seemed to have escaped Max's senses in their entirety.

Perhaps that was why he had little patience for the younger man's head in the sand antics this morning, because while complete and utter lack of self-awareness was the baseline from which his teammate perpetually operated, and Daniel had long ago accepted such things as standard practice, this was where he drew the line.

You were where he drew the line.

And he'd be damned if he simply sat by and let Max cross it out of his own blundering stupidity again without saying a single word to the contrary. As it was, Daniel felt guilty enough for not having done more to protect you prior to now, for not having taken preventive action that could have eliminated the threat of the very situation you all found yourselves in at the moment, for not having stepped the second things teetered towards getting out of hand, without continuing to stand idly by and not at the very least try to make amends for his own failings and those of his team.

Daniel had absolutely no qualms about resorting to unapologetic honesty because he couldn't have cared less about how the Austrian felt right now than he did at present. Because the way he saw it, it was likely better that he resorts to harsh words and brutal frankness than any of the other means of communication he was tempted to use because, fucking shit, was he itching to find out if a right hook to the side of the head would in fact prove to be sufficient enough to knock some sense back into the other man.

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Max," he said dismissively, catching his friend by the collar of his sweatshirt and hauling him sideways, breaking him from the repetitive back and forth pattern he'd been incessantly pacing across the living by forcing him bodily down onto the overstuffed sofa.

"So, let's abandon this insane little pipe dream that you've cooked up– where at just any moment now, she'll going to come waltzing back in through the door," Daniel jammed a thumb in the direction of the elevator, not wanting to leave the man opposite him with so much as a shadow of a doubt to cling to, "because while I do hate to have to break it to you, none of that will be fucking happening any time soon. Just- just enough of that, alright? Let's give it a fucking rest already."

Even amongst all the truth that was held in his words, he couldn't bring himself to entirely ignore the glimmer of something false interwoven into the statement, a singular thread of a lie– Daniel didn't hate being the one to break it to Max at all, not even in the slightest.

Because if he were to be brutally frank about the matter, he was actually fucking living for this opportunity to be the bearer of bad news and everything it was currently affording him.

"Oh, and do me a favor?" Daniel asks on a whim, and his spontaneity gets him little more than a noncommittal grunt out of Max in reply, "if it's not too much to ask, when you get up off that couch, first why don't you give taking a fucking breath or two a go? Just try it on for size. You know, before you pass out cold and bust your head open on the ugly ass coffee table someone with just shit taste picked out-"

"I'll tell my ma that the next time she phones," he says with a wrinkle of his nose, the younger man's tone halfheartedly pandering to taking real personal offense on his mother's behalf, "when she's all 'oh! And how is Daniel doing lately?' I'll be sure to say, 'thank you for asking! he's been fine, but he says you've got shit taste in furniture-'"

"And shit taste in men too but she probably already knows that bit because Jos just really speaks for himself," his retort earns him the exact snort of a laugh Dan had been expecting it to with blind confidence, knowing that without the amused sound of consensus out of Max, the possibility of that particular remark being well received was utterly out of the question.

"No one is going to argue with you on that. Least of all me."

"Brilliant! Then let's make better decisions than their generation did and just keep our thoughts to ourselves, hm? And while we're at it, why don't you pop your listening ears back on and hear me when I tell you to inhale some fucking air over there because I'm not taking you to the hospital so you can get stitches-- No, no... I'll be super gluing your face back together and then going on about my day. Got it?"

"Whatever."

"No, not whatever, there was a question there. So, again– you got it?"

"Yeah, fine, Daniel. I get it. Happy now?"

"'Course, mate. I'm over the fucking moon about it because what I won't be doing with my afternoon is cleaning blood off of a goddamn thing either. Is that understood?"

"Jesus Christ, okay! I understand! Watch," Max says, waving both hands needlessly towards himself, directing him to pay close attention as though he was genuinely concerned Daniel might miss the over-exaggerate rise and fall of his chest, which heaved with every ragged breath in and dramatic breath out, if he wasn't told where to look.

"Wonderful, you can breathe! Get up. We're going out," turning his head to look over one shoulder, he shouts loud enough that his words are echoing through the entire apartment, "Kaia! Front door, five minutes! We're going out for lunch and Da's paying!"

Grumbling at the addition, Max pulls himself to his feet and begins collecting the random items he'd left scattered haphazardly across the surface of the coffee table the night before as he calls out, "Vlinder, remember! Shoes, jacket, pants; check! All of them, on!" he pauses, roughly shoving everything back into his pockets where it had all undoubtedly come from before raising his voice to add, "I mean it, it's too cold for just your Elsa dress, I don't care what the movie says, you will freeze!"

"You know, that's not really the way her magic works in the movie because you see-" Daniel chimes in brightly, starting to breakdown the inaccuracies of the former's statement without a care in the world until he looks up and catches a glimpse of Max glowering over at him, then falls immediately silent.

"No one goes anywhere until my eyes are on you, Kaia-- and you're dressed! Fully!"

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

Monday, November 19th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco

Daniel's Apartment

Max doesn't concern himself with anything so inconsequential as having any shred of common decency this morning simply because Daniel was still sleeping soundly at this hour– that would hardly have been conducive to his plans for the day since by his count, they were already an hour behind on schedule.

And he really doesn't care to admit just how many times he's checked his phone this morning, let alone in last hour because things are already starting to get really fucking pathetic. As if that weren't enough, there's the matter of his slow, steady descent into full blown obsession over where you are and what you're doing and why in the hell he's not heard back from you since Friday night to contend with... and Goddamn, does Max hate all of this.

He can't bear the thought of unlocking it again and again and again, only to open his texts to see more of the same– a screen full of nothing but his messages, delivered and unread, the monotony of which is broken only by the single photo of Kaia he'd snapped at lunch yesterday and then promptly sent in a desperate last ditch attempt to break the silence. To no avail. .

So, simply put, he may have ruled out throwing his phone off of Daniel's balcony, if only because he doesn't want to deal with the lecture that will earn him, but that doesn't mean he's going to handle any of this in a healthy manner. No, no... Max has decided he's going to deal with this the worst way he knows how, the tried and true method of packing his schedule so full of bullshit activities that there's no time to spare for anything else.

"Kaia! Get a move on, it's time!" He calls out down the hallway in a stage whisper, his words softened purely in the interest of preserving the element of surprise, waiting impatiently as his daughter comes scuttling towards him with a wicked little grin on her face, "just like we rehearsed, okay?"

"Okay! Okay!" The toddler nods her little blonde head in agreement, practically levitating with excitement, her riot of sleep tousled curls bouncing along wildly, adding only further emphasis to her exaggerated movements, "Da! Come on! Come on!"

"Ready?" Max already knows the answer, but he still asks it all the same, enjoying the childish anticipation Kaia is consumed by right now, her joy over something so simple as wreaking chaos and her enthusiasm at the mere prospect of inciting parental approved mischief is enough to brighten even his sour mood, leaving him grinning in spite of himself as he carefully twists the handle of Daniel's bedroom door and pushes it open.

Giving the three-year-old at his side a solemn salute, they tiptoed into the room as quietly as they could manage, his daughter giggling softly to herself as she crept forward, pretending to be a little mouse, just like they'd been practicing since she'd woken up with the rising sun hours ago. He'd had to come up with something to keep her occupied this morning or the entire apartment building would have been in for a very rude awakening.

Quite simply, it was a matter of acting in the best interest of the greater good because clearly, one man's loss of sleep was everyone else's gain. So, really, if you stopped and thought about it, Max was just being a good, considerate neighbor here.

Sure, he might be serving up his teammate like a lamb for the slaughter and yes, the argument could be made that, at the very least, he should be feeling some modicum of guilt over the decision to sic Kaia on an unsuspecting Daniel but that hardly seemed like enough to dissuade Max from seeing this through.

His mind was made up and there would be no changing it now, not when the plan was already in motion, his three year old a step or three ahead of him, and all but bouncing off the walls of the narrow hallway which feeds from the door of the master suite into the bedroom proper, flowing elegantly past the pair of darkly shadowed archways that hide away the massive marble bath and the walk in closet from view.

It's already a beat too late when Max realizes what's about to happen because in the time it takes from one second to the next, for him to put two and two together, his little speed demon of a daughter has already thrown caution to the wind and bolted forward. Kaia doesn't hesitate, she doesn't waste so much as a fraction of an instant before she's gone, no, she knows better than that, knows better than to waste the advantage that the element of surprise and a slight head start have given her.

In the blink of an eye the toddler is rounding the corner into the room beyond in a blur of sunshine yellow curls and baby pink pajamas, Kaia's vanished from his line of sight before he's close half of the original distance he'd let lapse between them. Max knows he's got no one to blame for this but himself because he's become endlessly well versed on the dangers of growing complacent around his daughter, this is squarely on him.

Shaking his head at himself, the motion is less one of genuine agitation at the situation or annoyance with Kaia and more one of lighthearted, self-aggrandizing amusement, the solid warmth of which floods his chest, the weight welcome and savored, it's steady thrumming presence favoring a spot on his left that sits high behind the banded shelter of his ribcage– it's a heady thing to experience, emotions like these, when most of your life has been spent feeling them sparingly, for brief, fleeting moments.

So, when Max reaches the end of the hallway, it with a rye smile on his face and he's a little less inclined to get lost in the depths of his own mind than he'd been only a moment prior, the world around him seems to have come into sharper relief than it had all morning, the edges of his vision no longer soft and out of focus.

It becomes immediately apparent that in part and parcel with Kaia's impatient, borderline impetuous insistence upon self-sufficiency, she'd dismissed the remainder of the original plan of action without a second thought and struck out on her own rogue mission. Where his daughter had been meant to wait for him to pick her up and put her atop the sleek, wooden footboard of Daniel's bed, she had instead improvised and climbed the monstrosity herself, which meant she was now struggling to keep her balance, teetered precariously back and forth, solely focused on standing on the narrow surface unassisted.

He just shrugs his shoulders at her, his lips pressed together in a thin line, both eyebrows raised in silent judgment in an expression that conveys, in no uncertain terms, 'what do you want me to do about it?' Max knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kaia has heard him, loud and clear, because all he gets back is a blank, unimpressed glare, one which very nearly succeeds at maintaining the facade that she's not internally starting to panic but that betrays her at the last moment when her bottom lip trembles.

God help them all, he thinks to himself, when in a last ditch attempt to convince herself she is in fact large and in charge and has not just vastly overestimated her capabilities, his daughter puts a hand on her hip and strikes a pose intended to be the physical embodiment of unwavering confidence.

It serves only to remind Max of just how young Kaia actually is because the little girl is so precocious and headstrong, and already such a force to be reckoned with, he often finds it hard to believe she's just three years old. Not for the first time, he wonders if she's just always been like this or if the behavioral traits which he now sees on the daily and as has just always known as her own are as new to Kaia as they are to him.

Max detests the thought that perhaps the cause for all this, the key motivating factor for why his daughter is already so vividly reminiscent of his five-year-old youngest sister is because of the upheaval she's had in recent years; he fears more than anything that Kaia's psyche has been altered beyond recognition by the loss of her mother, by the life altering changes she's already faced in her short little life.

Most of all, he fears that the child he knows, who is as much yours, as she is his– the one standing here before him, half alight with anticipatory excitement to prank her uncle, just happy to be included, and half petrified by the height she stands atop but who's fear is metered by the absolute trust she puts in him, in her father, who knows with unwavering certainty that he will not let not an harm befall her– now bears utterly no resemblance to the Kaia that Vittoria had known and loved and raised since birth.

Yeah, no, this is not going to fucking work, it's simply not sustainable for matters to continue on in the same manner they have up until this point. Max and his tendency to permit his life to be derailed by the dark clouds which insist rather firmly upon gathering overhead at the very first sign of grey skies have stolen enough from him in the past. He will permit it to go no farther.

Because at this point in his life, and thanks in large part to the harsh realities of his career, it's hardwired into him to realize what's happened, react to it and respond accordingly all in the same fraction of a second– and just as learning there's no time for mistakes in racing is a trial by fire, the same can be said for raising a child.

For whatever reason, it only dawns upon Max now that, in much the same way it's been ingrained in him to close his mind off prior to a race and narrow the confines of his world down to only what his five sense give him about the car under him, the track in around him and the radio in his ear, he needs to train himself to start applying the same rules to his everyday life, especially in moments like this.

He has to do better about living in the present, instead of in his head or the past, and that change has to begin now.

"Da—"

It was instinct, not a conscious decision or cognizant thought that made quick work of the remaining bureaucratic roadblocks keeping him bogged down inside his own mind, cutting to the chase and right through the mental red tape obstructing the way, and all because his daughter had whispered one word to him in the otherwise still slumbering, steady silence of the sun warmed room.

"Come here," Max is careful to keep his voice low and slow as he gestures for Kaia to reach for him, knowing that it would take more than the two of them speaking in hushed whispers to rouse Daniel, since the latter slept like the dead, "come on."

"Come on," she parrots back at him in a poor imitation of his hushed tone, her volume no doubt skewed by the flicker of fear he catches in her expression before it vanishes, replaced by a look of determination that unconsciously has him nodding approvingly up at her. Little hands first make contact with the sleep wrinkled fabric of his shirt, clutching white knuckled at the cotton neckline, in the beat before his grasp closes around Kaia's middle and he hauls her down off the footboard she'd been balanced on.

"There we go. Well done, vlinder," Max offers his daughter a cheeky grin, tucking her against his chest as she loosens her hold on his t-shirt in favor of throwing both arms around his neck and settling in with the side of her head resting against his own, pressed cheek to cheek, "change of plans?"

"Yes!" And just like that Kaia has her eye back on the ball, her attention once again entirely devoted to the promise of mischief, the fleeting remnants of fear from her near brush with a fall wholly forgotten. He'd known that the tempting offer to create chaos, even if it was sanctioned chaos, would be too good for the three year old to turn down.

Once he's finished whispering the hastily cobbled together plan conspiratorially in her ear, there's a brief back and forth discussion, one which mostly involves the repetition of the same words over and over again punctuated by Kaia's giggles and his half hearted shushing of them until she has nothing more to say or question or add. It takes less time than he'd expected it to.

And at the very least, Daniel has had the decency to stay dead to the world asleep.

"Ready? On the count of three, pool toss," Max prompts, briefly demonstrating the intended range of motion by swinging Kaia through the air in the direction of the bed, going so far as to fully extend both arms without ever letting go of her.

The toddler hardly reacts at all to the practiced movement, far too delighted by her father's use of the term she'd coined during the weekend of the United States grand prix when he'd been forced to actually bribe her with vending machine candy to get her to leave the hotel pool without a scene being caused, to care much about anything else.

"Okay... one, two, three!"

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

Quite frankly, Daniel has no qualms about admitting that he can be a bit of a bitch when it comes to early mornings and even more so when those early mornings are directly preceded by very late nights where a very sulky and at present very mean teammate has invaded his house and brought his bullshit with him.

What he also won't be mincing words over is the fact that as far as he's concerned right now, which if he's not mistaken is somewhere only slightly past eight o'clock in the fucking morning, Max has only one redeeming quality— and that quality is currently jumping up and down on his bed while loudly making demands he wake up.

Kaia is lucky Daniel loves her as much as he does because if it was just about anyone else in the world that had woken him up, his attitude would be in the basement level of hell. It doesn't escape his notice that Max, quite rightly, the fucking bastard, has carefully placed himself outside of arm's reach.

"Uncle Dan! Uncle Dan! Uncle Dannnn!" Though he hadn't thought it possible, Kaia somehow manages to get louder still when she stops bouncing around long enough to realize he's fully opened both his eyes now that he's thrown in the towel on merely squinting one eyed at Max in the hopes the younger man would back down and resigned himself to reality he won't be going back to sleep any time soon.

Still, it's not the toddler's fault her dad's a moody fucking prick, is it? Obviously not.

"That was my name last time I checked," he makes a half hearted effort to sit up, only to realize it would take more energy than he was willing to put forth at the moment and immediately abandons the effort, "which I believe was some time around 3 am and the second or fourth barbie movie."

"That sounds about right to me," the man he'd once considered to be a friend says lightly as he throws himself down into the leather chair that occupies the far corner of the room, grinning, obviously quite happy with himself and whatever rotten plot it is he's been up concocting since God only knows when.

While Daniel had yet to set his heart on the means or method just yet, he'd had no such delays when it came to his absolute certainty that Max would be made to pay for his crimes against humanity here shortly.

"Oh, does it?" he retorts with hollow sincerity, the facade of utter relief at hearing such good news painted across his features, a hand over his heart, "I am just overjoyed to hear it!"

Max has nothing further to contribute, concerning himself instead with getting comfortable where he's sat, careful to keep the phone, which Daniel somehow hadn't seen until now, held aloft at an angle which really drives the point home that this is all being caught on camera– and the smug bitch just waves at him.

"Uncle Dannnnnn, good morning! Morning!"

"Kaia-" since there's no sign of her jumping stopping any time soon, Daniel takes matters into his own hands, reaching for a pillow with one hand as he props himself up with the other, "this can go one of two ways, Ms. Thing– you can choose to sit down and I'll make you whatever your heart desires for breakfast or you can choose not to sit down and leave me no choice but to start a pillow fight. What's it gonna be?"

"Waffles, please!" She chirrups immediately, like the smart child she is, and flings herself down onto the bed all sprawled out on her back like a starfish. But unfortunately for them both, when Kaia hits the mattress, her deadweight has the misfortune to land directly atop the duvet covered line of his lower legs.

"Sold," Daniel says with a solemn nod, formally acknowledging her request with the twin of her excited grin painted across his own face.

He then continues, waggling both eyebrows at the little girl before casually asking, "so... you want to see something super cool?" and promptly launches the pillow he still holds in one hand directly at Max's head as hard as he can.

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

Monday, November 19th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco

Daniel's Apartment

"Everyone gets to pick the main activity for one day, alright? So, take a moment, think it over, brainstorm— I don't care, just think of something and be ready when I call on you. Got it?"

"Got it, Da!" Kaia responds back brightly, though Max isn't entirely convinced she has any real idea what she's agreeing to, she's got the right attitude about it, so he lets her have this, opting to leave her to her own devices.

He has little interest in making her second guess herself when, at the end of the day, he'd rather his daughter have confidence that's slightly misplaced than none at all. And honestly, he's just so grateful that his daughter is happy and smiling and brimming with energy again that he hardly knows what to do with himself.

So no, he won't be calling into question the toddler's comprehension levels or what she chooses to add to the conversation being had over breakfast.

Similarly, Max absolutely will not be commenting on what she's chosen to eat this morning because at least she was finally eating something– even if that something happened to be a stack of powder sugar dusted waffles that he knows and has already accepted that Kaia will end up wearing more of than she manages to actually eat.

He bites his tongue when, unsurprisingly, she points one chubby little finger at the bottle of maple syrup held in Daniel's hand then down at her plate, only to clap her hands together delightedly when her uncle does as he was silently asked, pouring an obscene amount of the sugary liquid over the waffles.

"Your wish is my command," Daniel says with a dramatic flourish of his hand, sketching a quick mock bow in his direction, much to Kaia's delight, before being forced to abandon the gesture when Max whips a pillow full force at his face from across the room.

"Alright, alright! Jesus, watch the nose, that's my money maker you know! Break it and I break your... well I don't know, if I figure out how to break your bad attitude or your death wish like you just tried to break my beautiful face, I'll let you know but until then, maybe consider putting some of your considerable wealth into getting hotter? At least then we could be on equal footing."

"Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up before I change my mind and revoke your right to have any input... ever... on anything."

"Bite me," the Australian says with a long suffering sigh, "but fine, I'll play nice. For now, at least."

"Thank you. Now was that so hard?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be a real bastard when you want to be, Verstappen?"

"It has been said a time or two," Max finally acknowledges with a slow, solemn nod of his head, his gaze remaining slightly upturned in a continued show of racking his memory for any instances in which similar remarks had been made in the past, "though rarely, if ever, to my face."

"Oh okay, so now we're just blatantly rewriting history over breakfast? Good to know," Daniel huffs out a breath, rolling his eyes at his teammate, "holding true to character, aren't we?"

"Are you quite finished?" He inquires in a cool, casual disinterested tone of voice, refusing outright to let the new, icy cold edge of genuine annoyance that cuts the flow of the other man's words like a frigid undercurrent, get a rise out of him.

Instead, awaiting reply he can feel the beginning of as it builds to a fever's pitch in his friend, already simmering just below the surface, Max reaches for Kaia's plate and pulls it closer to himself, busying himself with cutting her waffles into more manageable, bite sized pieces. He has little choice but to turn a deaf ear to her protestations, the little girl stalwart in her insistence that she can do it herself, but which he knows she absolutely cannot.

"Say thank you," Max admonishes, pushing his daughter's breakfast, now neatly sliced and diced, and no longer presenting quite such a choking hazard, back in front of her, "even if you don't mean it."

"Thank you, Da," Kaia mumbles under her breath with a slightly put out expression on her face, leaving her delicate button nose slightly wrinkled and colors her chubby little cheeks with a warm, pink hued flush.

As a whole, her reaction does very little to undermine his rather immediate impression that for all her efforts to the contrary, the three-year-old is more grateful for his intervention than she wants to let on. Judging by the gusto with which she's now tucking into her waffles alone, Max has more than enough to work with by way of an unofficial answer.

"It's not going anywhere, Vlinder. No one is going to take your food from you, so, just slow it down."

Kaia says something back but he's at a total loss as to what exactly it was, since the retort came out a garbled mess, and even he couldn't hope to decipher what it was she'd intended to say. She looks momentarily frustrated as she looks around the table, her blonde curls bouncing as she peers back and forth between himself and Daniel, before she shrugs and returns to eating but still clearly put out that neither one of them understood what she'd been trying to say.

"You look like a chipmunk," Max playfully pokes at her cheek, which bulges with uneaten, half chewed waffle, "let's focus on taking one bite at a time and finishing it before we take another. If you want more, you can have more. There's no need to hoard away breakfast like we're preparing for winter."

"I like chipmunks," the toddler says proudly, beaming at what he'd intended to be a light-handed reprimand, but which had clearly missed the mark.

"You stopped listening after I said chipmunk, didn't you?"

She nods excitedly, eyes bright as she sits up slightly straighter in her seat and asks, with an air of conspiratorial intrigue about her, "what is a chipmunk?"

"What do you mean what's a chipmunk? I thought you said you liked them. How do you know you like them if you don't know what they are?" Setting down his fork and knife, his efforts to finish his own breakfast temporarily put on hold, Max turns to fully face his daughter. He's genuinely interested to hear exactly how this all works itself out inside her head because personally, he doesn't even know where to start, let alone how to go about figuring this out on his own.

"Becauseeee my brain told me I like 'em," she doesn't even have to actually say 'duh' aloud for it to make itself known, since the implication is clear enough, "we-" he assumes that here, 'we' refers to herself and her brain, though he's uncertain as to why she views the two of them as separate entities, "don't remember what it- they- no, it look like."

"What it looks like," he corrects before he can stop himself or think better of it, the words said mostly out of a deeply ingrained habit than anything else.

Accordingly, Max is hardly surprised when his addition elicits him little more than a sassy, dismissive little sigh from Kaia, followed up by the rather immediate introduction of a mildly well-deserved cold shoulder. Making no efforts to hide the extent to which she feels insulted, the three-year-old scoots around in her chair, stubbornly insistent upon putting as much distance as she possibly can between herself and where her father still sits, watching her minute rebellion in a less than impressed silence.

"You done? Can I apologize now?"

"No," she doesn't bother to so much as glance in his direction, allotting him only as much of her attention as can be gleaned from the two short letters of her response, the three-year-old looks instead to the sole remaining party present, who's status as a non-offender has earned him the full extent of her attention.

"Don't be like that, I'm sorry, alright?" He knows it's too little, too late but the fact doesn't keep him from trying to right his wrong, "I shouldn't have corrected you, Kaia, it wasn't helpful."

She just turns her little nose up at his own admittedly lame attempt at apologizing.

"Look– he's not even paying attention," Max points out unhelpfully, waving a hand at Daniel in spite of himself since he already knows from past experience that all his efforts have a high likelihood to be in vain, "but I am. And I'm very, very sorry."

"Uncle Dad," he tries and fails to stifle the sound of jealous distaste that builds in the back of his throat at the nickname his daughter is quite deliberate in her use of here, "what's a chipmunk?"

"It's an animal, a mammal if you want to be exact. Give me one more second to finish this," Daniel says with a jerk of his chin in the direction of his phone, his eyes shifting momentarily from the brightness of the screen held in his hands to find Kaia's gaze, his thumbs never slowing in their movement, typing something even as he continues, "we can search them online and you can look at pictures of chipmunks until you're bored to tears."

"Yeah?" Kaia sounds intrigued by the offer, leaning further forward in her seat until Max starts to worry that she's liable to tip the whole chair over if she's not careful. Not that he gets a chance to say a single thing.

"Kaia, sit back before you fall, I'm not taking you to the hospital if you crack your head open, we've got better things to do with our time than that."

"Fineeee," the toddler whines but does as she's told without any further to do, maintaining the pretense that it's below her to so much as acknowledge her father's presence.

Max only narrows his eyes at the pair of them, finding that he's vastly more irritated by his teammate's preoccupation with his phone than he is with anything else.

"I guess I'll make myself useful and head back home to shower," he knows he's making an ass of himself but whatever, he doesn't feel like putting in the effort required to counteract the rising storm of his already fairly shit mood. No, Max didn't particularly give a damn that he was being childish.

"Hey, Ms. Thing, Lovie wants me to tell you she says hi and she hopes you're behaving yourself," Daniel announces suddenly, simply tossing the information out into the open like it's of little consequence to anyone at all.

"Lovie!" Kaia chirps your name with a delighted little giggle, clapping her syrup sticky hands together, "Lovie!" she repeats, seemingly unable to help herself in her elation.

"Oh, you can't be fucking serious-"

"Lovie said hi, Da!"

"I know, I heard," it only takes a second for the guilt to start to set in over just how unnecessary and absolutely uncalled for the brusqueness with which he'd spoken had been, "I know you've missed her so much since we said goodbye. And I bet that she's missing you more than we- you miss her, more than you can even imagine."

"Don't worry, Max, she hasn't mentioned you," Daniel says with a small smile, the cadence of his voice giving off an immediate air of well-intentioned reassurance, the tone of his words clearly meant to be a comfort.

But upon a second and then third listen, every facet of that sentence rings hollow to his ears– like each letter, down to the very last, had played the wrong note– one after the other, composing a discordant, sardonic little song which was a far cry from the one that he'd heard at the first.

"I wasn't worried," the lie rolled right off his tongue with a slick, heavy handed ease that struck Max as believable off the cuff but which, when held at arm's length and given some distance, was merely obstinately false.

"Good."

"Great," he doesn't trust himself, nor the hold he now has on his tightly wound restraint, to say more than a single syllable back.

"Wonderful," the broad grin Daniel gives him now is a different beast entirely to the modest, well bridled one he'd worn a moment before, "Glad to see there's no hard feelings. We wouldn't want that."

"Never," still rigidly restricted to just the one word, Max does however make allowance for dual syllables in his response.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"'Course not," he gives himself just enough leash now for a two worded response but not a breath more or an inch further.

"Well if you're going to head home for a bit to shower or do... whatever else you need to, Kaia and I will probably just hang out, maybe take the time to give her a call," Max doesn't appreciate in the slightest the way Daniel says 'her,' and he can hardly stomach how crystal fucking clear it is that a degree of a claim to you, over you, had just been staked.

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

Tuesday, November 20th, 2018- Monaco-Ville, Monaco

The Private Collection of Antique Cars of H.S.H. the Prince of Monaco

“Isn’t this just a little too on the nose? Even for you?” It was early enough in the grand scheme of things for Daniel to start trying Max’s patience in earnest. 

“Didn’t feel like switching it up? Trying something, anything, even remotely new? Of course not because why bother? Not when the same cars that you’ve seen again and again are still just waiting to be stared at by you for the umpteenth time in a row.”

“Has your dad gotten a little…” Daniel pauses mid thought, bending at the knees until he’s on Kaia’s level before continuing, “predictable in his old age?” 

While it might not be the most grownup of choices, it was more fun than it looked, especially when one was as damn near to being an expert at taunting the young Austrian as he was.

But still, nothing. Not so much as a sideways glare or a grumble of agitation. Not even a huff of annoyance or a sigh of frustration. 

“Or perhaps,” he playfully taps the tip of the toddler’s minute upturned button nose, giving her a quick exaggerated wink, “he’s just painfully, soul suckingly boring?”

“Leave off,” Max snorts and then swings, catching him soundly upside the head, “still younger than you last I checked.”

“Only on paper, never in spirit,” he retorts, rubbing at the back of his head with an absent hand despite the fact that the smack had really just sounded like it hurt. 

The only lingering pain that Daniel could still feel was the rather lasting effects of the blow he’d just taken to his pride, considering the fact that he’d been caught lacking by the very man he’d quite loudly declared to be easily predictable. 

“Whatever makes you feel better. Or younger. Dealer’s choice, really.”

He doesn’t bother to stop long enough to put any actual, conscious thought into what to say next because he infinitely prefers to just go in blind and mad lib it, filling in the blanks with whatever he touches first while rummaging through some dingy backroom of his brain.

“And you, Verstappen, are an absolute filthy, fucking slag,” though somehow, he manages to swallow that very first laugh when it rises to the surface, there’s no smothering the laugher that follows.

Not even if Daniel had wanted to, which for the record, he hadn’t. No, not when the look on Max’s face had been too genuine, too dazed and far too surprised to not let that mirth that starts in his chest as a rumbling which builds in his throat until it spills over, burbling up and out of him unrestrained, sounding contagiously happy, even to his own two ears.

And for a moment, if only for that very moment, life feels suspended, like reality has been reduced to a single snapshot in time, the world around them narrowed down to the scene they stand in, together and laughing and relishing in the now— the three of them, just himself and that young, lost boy he’d met on a race track what felt like a lifetime ago, the one he’d watched become first a Formula 1 pilot, then a father and then a man, and the little girl who’d saved a golden boy by making him a parent. 

Yet, Daniel knew without having to ask that something was missing in that instant, the moment robbed from the grasp of nostalgia but a singular absent component— the last facet, the final piece, the person who took three cobbled together parts and made them a whole. 

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

Friday, November 23rd, 2018- Milton Keynes, England, United Kingdom

You’d only just managed to doze off when, from somewhere on the bedside table your phone goes off at full volume, bringing an immediate, unceremonious end to the peace you’d finally found in sleep by wrenching you rather savagely back into the world of the living, the shrill jingle of the ringtone popping the happy little fantasy that had taken shape inside your head like someone had taken a pin to a balloon.

Grumbling, you push yourself into an upright position, desperately trying to cling to the dream you’d been having before you’d been jolted back into consciousness even as you reach out, searching blindly for your phone in the dark, but it has already started to fade, the details deteriorating further and further with every second that slips by until what is left of it is beyond repair, the remains nothing more than a faint, moth eaten memory of momentary bliss.

As your fingers finally find the familiar outline of your phone and close around it, you force yourself to abandon the last vestiges of the dream, knowing if you’re not careful about it, you’re liable to drown yourself in the fragmented remnants of the recollection and there’s hardly time for that right now, if at all.

One glance at the screen proves to be more than sufficient to knock you clean out of your head, to wash away the warmth and contentment that still lingered in your chest, replacing it with a different kind of heat, this fire built not of longing and fantasies but kindled from anger and agitation, the flames of which didn’t need much to catch, just a spark, courtesy of a single name.

“Can I fucking help you, Max? What is it? What is it that you could possibly need at-” you pause with a huff, craning your neck around to check the alarm clock on the bedside table, “at 2:30 in the morning? Hm?”

“I- it’s- Sorry-'' the three words are stilted, almost jarring, as they stumble over one another, each more cumbersome and unwieldy than the last, all conspicuously lack something, some quality you can’t quite put your finger on but whose absence is impossible to ignore.

It takes a moment, only the one, before it comes to you, the name of what’s missing, of what you’ve become so accustomed to hearing in every sentence and every letter, down to the last syllable, that it’s sudden, unforeseen absence can actually be physically felt, the pang of the loss slowly building until it’s almost nauseating.

The familiarity and flippancy you’d thought you’d hate, that you could have sworn you hated, that you detested with every fiber of your being, but, as you'd only just discovered, you’d evidently learned to love at some point along the way, though when exactly that had been was entirely beyond you.

The effect is immediate, instantaneous, when, from the other end of the phone, something which you know with absolute certainty you were never supposed to have heard, that you know in your very bones the fates had never meant for a soul to hear, reaches you over the crackling connection, sounding dangerously close to a stifled, chest wracking dry sob.

You know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Max hated himself for this perceived weakness, and that he’d fought like hell to keep exactly where it was, where it had been, to smother in its infancy before it could gain prescience, neatly bottled up and squirreled away where no one would ever find it, buried in the dead of night, hidden somewhere deep in the hollow of his chest or the pit of his stomach, anywhere it would never see the light of day.

Like his father had taught him, exactly like his Pa had drilled into his head, and when that failed, beaten it into him.

Like Max had always done, like the dutiful son he’d once been, like he would never be again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just slow down, slow down,” you say softly, soothingly, with deliberate gentleness, speaking to him like you would a wounded animal that needs to be coaxed into accepting help, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that when I answered, I’m sorry. I’d just fallen asleep and well, I’m still not particularly over everything that happened yesterday.”

“It’s- it’s not that,” he’s quick off the line with this response, his sudden change in demeanor catching you entirely by surprise, as the warmth and ease returns to his voice without much to proceed the change, almost as if the shift in conversation had been all he’d needed for the informality that hover perilously close to being outright intimacy to come flooding back in.

But that being said, you’re not foolish enough to let yourself be blinded to reality by the turnaround, it had been too easy, it had been too simply won, which you’d come to learn meant that, in Max’s case at least, he was merely momentarily distracted, and more than like retreat back to the frame of mind he’d been in previously.

“Okay? So, if it's not that, then what is it? I just figure, I guess it was more of an assumption really, that you’d only called to talk about the whole boyfriend, girlfriend thing, especially considering the hour and all-”

“Uh, Kaia and I- Kaia’s hurt… She’s- She’s hurt and it’s because of me.”

“Wait, I’m sorry- What?” You ask him without really knowing what it is that you’d just said because the shape of every word as it rolls off the tip of your tongue is just a little off kilter, each feeling foreign in your mouth, the sound strangely distorted even to your own ears, like the notes that they should be composed of have suddenly become discordant.

It’s disquieting the way your brain is still operating on a delay that’s not only disproportionate to what you know for a fact should have been necessary, the certainty about which reaches you from some distant corner in the back of your mind, but it just feels wrong, like somehow whatever it was that Max has just told you has sunk in skin deep and now crawls in your veins, stealing the warmth from your blood as it goes, leeching away the color from the room around you.

“I couldn’t get her to sleep, I tried everything but nothing made any difference… so we went for a drive since that always worked with my youngest sister,” Max explains with such restraint and forethought that even through the lag time your mind is currently operating at, it's obvious that for every detail of the night that he forces himself to remember is more painful than the last and costs him dearly, “and some tourist with more car than they could handle, lost complete control when they were flying down the city street and took a blind corner at speed… into the oncoming lane- struck the passenger side- pinning the back of my car against a bollard-”

Like a switch has been flipped, understanding suddenly flickers to life inside your mind and you’re left gasping for air as the cruel, harsh lines of reality are cast into brutal, immaculate relief by the light of comprehension.

“But she’s alive? Because you’re alive,” you breathe into the phone in a voice barely above a whisper, shaken to the core by the horrific realization that Max wouldn’t be alive and breathing to make this phone call if the worst had come to pass, knowing with absolute certainty that if the daughter had been taken then the father would have followed by any means deemed necessary.

The monstrous thought shouldn’t have been comforting, but it was, and you clung to it with an ironclad grip.

“She’s alive, I’m alive… everyone is alive,” Max confirms with venom in his voice, a chill stealing through you as he continues, “though if you ask me, the fucker that hit us doesn’t even deserve to still be breathing.”

“I’m glad no one was hurt,” you say honestly, too focused on getting more detailed information out of him about Kaia’s status to care about the inherent morality of what he’d just said, “Can I talk to Kaia or-”

“He put my daughter in the hospital but there’s not a scratch on the bastard,” he says sourly, not bothering to even acknowledge what you’d said in the slightest, “but yeah, I just thought you should know. Sorry to wake you.”

“Wait-” you panic, the sudden awareness that he’d already made his mind up, that’d he’d already decided that the conversation was over, and that there wasn’t a single thing you could do to stop him, bringing yet another wave of that same helplessness from before crashing down over you, flooding your senses and drowning out what remained of your rationality, “wait, Max, wait! Not yet, not yet-”

Because this one, this one is ridiculously, pathetically, inexplicably worse than those that had preceded it– leaving you frantic and cursing the selfish desperation that takes sets in, taking hold of your mind and your tongue, systematically silencing every thought in your head that counseled restraint in the same deft stroke that severs the last tether you’d had on your self-restraint.

Because now, the rising tide of emotion does not recede, it does not lessen, it does not retreat and unlike before, the waters do not ebb, instead only continuing to rise, to strengthen, to deepen… until, for the first time, the possibility of being pulled under by the current of your fear for Kaia, for Max, even for yourself, is no longer a simple threat but a guarantee that promises what is to come.

“Don’t hang up! I’m not- you still haven’t explained-” it’s pointless, an exercise in futility but you keep talking all the same, knowing that you could stop the words from coming about as much as you could force Max to listen to them, “baby, please-”

Well… fuckkkk. Fuck me– baby? Baby?! Of all things, baby? Really? Just why in God’s name-

That had certainly been a choice… and unfortunately, it had been one that there was absolutely no undoing, regardless of however much you wished there was. That being said, you reasoned things could have been worse, there could have been the silence of an ended call coming from the other side of the phone still pressed to one side of your head, where instead there was only the silence of a man evidently at a loss for words.

And that quiet could be a good thing or a bad thing, there was really no telling when it came to Max.

“Uh, well… I’ll just talk to you later-” he doesn’t seem to be breathing as his tongue gets tripped up by its own words, “Okay! Love you! Bye!”

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

But to add insult to injury, there isn’t a single flight home for hours, with the first one out of the closest airport not being until a little after 1 pm today and that simply won’t do. The mere thought of having to sit here, helpless and overwrought with emotion, simply waiting and watching the clock for the next nine and a half hours is fucking unfathomable.

So, not knowing what else to do or who else to call, you dial the only person that comes to mind, stealing yourself in preparation for waking him, which isn’t a task you’re looking forward to any more than you are to asking such a huge favor of him as this but surely, if anyone will know what to do, he’d be the one.

“Horner, I know you said to never call this late unless someone is dead, or Lewis announced his retirement but-”

“Of course, he did. Insufferable, isn’t he?” The soft, lyrical voice floating through the speakers of the phone is a far cry from the one you’d been expecting, and it takes your half awake, panic-stricken mind a moment to recognize it.

“Mrs. Horner, I’m so sorry-”

“Please, don’t call me that,” she laughs lightly, like the mere thought of being addressed as much is amusing but only marginally so, “Geri will do fine.”

“Right, yeah, Geri,” you repeat, the moment feeling a little surreal when a voice in the back of your head reminds you this isn’t just Christian’s wife you’re talking to– she’s a Spice Girl– which is just a strange thing to try and wrap your mind around, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling this late but-”

“We know. That poor sweet girl,” Geri sounds like she’s fighting tears, the emotion in her words threatens to open the flood gates of your own just barely contained sobs, “and Max… he’s putting on a brave face but-” she comes up short, her cadence catching as she remembers herself, “Christian’s on the phone, seeing to your flight. Didn’t seem right, you being here when they’re there.”

“I-” the guilt that had already been building to a fever pitch seconds into the phone call with Max, which you’d only managed to compartmentalize out of the sheer demands made by necessity, very nearly takes you out at the knees when it makes a savage resurgence, the wake of worry crashing over your head with a violence that suggests the feeling is on a campaign of revenge following its earlier, rather unceremonious exile.

“I know, love,” the understanding that floods Geri’s voice should be a comfort, the reassuring cadence of her tone should be a balm to your rubbed raw and bleeding emotions, and yet at this moment, it’s anything but.

The sympathy she speaks to you with is suffocating because there is nothing, nothing, that she can say or do in this moment that will change the one thing you know with absolute certainty just now– that you do not deserve the gentleness and the compassion that colors her every syllable, not when you should have been there in that car tonight, instead of an ocean away.

“Oh, don’t do that,” she remarks with a sigh, the frank delivery of her words cut from a far less forgiving cloth than anything she’d said prior and takes you entirely by surprise because this time around, instead of pulling punches, Geri hits home with disarming accuracy.

“Don’t do what-” it’s a desperate, last-ditch attempt on your part to try and deflect which quickly proves to be futile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself, don’t torture yourself with the what ifs. It won’t do you any good and it won’t undo the horrors that have been inflicted on your family.”

“I’m not–” evidently you find maintaining the facade of dissent is infinitely easier than conceding to the truth. And if you were to be entirely honest with yourself, that definitely tracks.

“Yes, you are. Of course, you are,” Geri retorts with unwavering certainty, dismissing all of your protestations out of hand, “because any mother would. I know I certainly would be. It’s simply a reality of motherhood, one which you have to face head on and learn how to handle on your own terms because now is not the time to waste worrying about the past and what can’t be changed. Focus on what’s to come, not what's done.

So, from one mother to another, focus on getting yourself dressed and ready to head home and let Christian and me handle getting you there. You understand?”

“Yes,” there’s a great deal else you’d like to say back right now but instead, you set a hard limit of one worded assent for yourself because, as it has already been rightly stated, there’s hardly time for any long winded waffling at present.

“Wonderful– that’s settled then. One of us will email you the details. Give Kaia and Max my love,” she announces with an air of prim finality, and with that, the line goes dead.

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

Friday, November 23rd, 2018--Luton, England, United Kingdom

London Luton Airport

You could only stomach sitting down for as long as was strictly necessary, and it had taken every ounce of the self-restraint that you were usually on Max's case about failing to show to force yourself into a seat for the time it takes for the jet to taxi to the runway and take off but not for a second more than that.

Luckily, beyond letting you know when it was safe for you to get up and walk around the cabin, the flight's skeleton crew– a single pilot and a lone stewardess– kept largely to themselves and left you to your own devices, a fact about which you were deeply grateful for because to be frank, all you were cut out for at present was pacing back and forth, walking the same invisible line up and down the length of the jet without reprieve, while getting so deeply lost in mire of thoughts crowding your head that reality fades away into the background.

It was far easier to fold in on yourself, to look inward for solace, than it was to let yourself acknowledge Daniel's presence in the corner farthest from the pilot's cockpit, because the weight of his gaze on your face, the earnestness of the emotion held in those eyes teetered dangerously close to spilling over– his concern for you and what await the both of you in Monaco wasn't a comfort, it was all but fucking unbearable.

So, feeling like the coward you so often accused Max of being, you hid from your friend, ignoring him for the sake of your own wellbeing, because you could barely stomach your own roiling emotions and all those passing glances his attention as it brushed over you as it was... but even the briefest glints of Daniel's guilt that you unintentional caught glimpses of out of the corner of your eye was enough keep you staring at the ground.

Because while you knew in truth, what had happened tonight hadn't occurred as a direct consequence of his absence or his actions which had left Max and Kaia behind at home on their own, you weren't naive enough to think that there was anything at all that you could say that would convince him to absolve himself of the personal responsibility he now felt for the series of events that had put a little girl who called him her uncle in a hospital bed.

Better to leave him to his own thoughts as you yourself wanted to be than to overstep your bounds and unintentionally inflict any further pain to his already weakened and damaged defenses.

There wasn't much either one of you could offer the other at present without running the risk of doing more harm good and that was just the lay of the land, the hand that you'd been dealt, the way the stars were aligned. There was no changing any of it and you both knew that instinctively, with the same certainty you understood that there was solace and support to be found in the shared experience that stretched unspoken between the two of you that otherwise neither of you could spare the other if the silence was shattered.

So, with Daniel beyond your reach, the only thing outside yourself that kept you tether to the world that still existed around you was your cell phone, which in spite of having been tucked away, out of your line of sight since you'd boarded the plane, felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket, almost as though it was conscious of how far from grace and the usual place of importance it had fallen.

Despite your efforts to the contrary, its presence was impossible to just completely ignore when the temptation to pull your phone out and switch it back on, just for long enough to find out if you had service on the private jet or not, to find out if you had any open messages waiting for you-

No, you were determined not to fall under the spell of the siren's song being sung to you by the unknown, tempting you to give in, to just see if it was still nothing but radio silence from Max, but you knew a slippery slope when you saw one.

Because while you might have a less than stellar track record for stupid fucking decision making where he was concerned, and that was under even the best of circumstances, at least you were capable of owning up to that.

And sure, maybe it was unfair of you to harbor such acrimonious little grudges against him at a time like this, what when all things considered, Max was just trying to get through what had to be one of the worst nights of his life, it would take more than your conscious to get you to forget how you'd felt when the line had gone dead and he'd left you with only unanswered questions to keep you company.

The fact of the matter was that after the nearly three months you'd spent learning first hand why Max was want to pull the bullshit that he did, you'd become rather adept at assessing the damage and identifying what the motivating factors were for the decisions that had had been made but even you, forged in the flames of the trial by fire that had been your first few weeks on the job, were limited by what you understood about the cause and your ability identify all its corresponding effects.

In short, it was a bunk science that relied on proving your theory with cherry picked data points instead of properly testing the hypothesis, and it was about as reliable. If only you'd been more realistic with yourself about all of this, if you'd been smart enough to remain objective when it came to Max and the working arrangement, you'd found yourself ensnared in then perhaps none of this would have hit as hard and there wouldn't be that sharp pain twisting in your chest, threatening to consume you-

"Enough!" Daniel's voice is rough as the command rumbles out of him, the rich cadence of it superseding the humiliating squeak of surprise you let out as he pulls you clean off your feet and neatly into his lap before you can do a thing to stop him, "you're driving me up the fucking wall."

"What are you- Let go of me!" You demand, trying to extricate yourself from his grasp but it's of no use, his arms only tighten around you as he simply shakes his head, the gesture filled with such frustration and exhaustion that you're momentarily disarmed, your body going temporarily slack in his grasp.

"You clearly had no plans to stop pacing back and forth until we landed so I had to take matters into my own hands," Daniel explains with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say that much should have been obvious.

"You could have said something," you point out rather unhelpfully.

"And you wouldn't have listened," he's right but you're going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that so you admit nothing, "so, fucking stop moving and just let me have this– just this one thing, just this one time, would you?"

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

There was something in your touch that invariably made complicated, lurid things happen in his chest, things which he neither knew the name of, nor fully understood.

And not because the answers were beyond him or because the twisted knot of whatever the fuck it was that roared to life every goddamned time you so much as brushed up against him as you slipped past him in the crowded paddock or your fingers grazed his while you walked at his side, was some great unknowable mystery destined to haunt the ages.

No, it was nothing so grand or interesting as that.

Rather, quite simply put, Daniel did not know what to call the whole host of complicated shit that went down in his chest at the slightest provocation because he didn't want to know, he'd never wanted to know, so he'd never asked.

Better to remain in the dark, obstinate in his unawareness, wholly able to maintain the facade of his own blissful ignorance by sheer force of will then to take that final step forward, to trade the inky black of night for the golden light of day and be made to face what waited for him in the sunshine— the unadulterated truth of it all– a burden which he did not wish to bear. 

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

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#three of us #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 #max verstappen x original female character #formula 1 x you #f1 x you #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #max verstappen fan fic

[densi-mber]

The Squid and Dagger Returns

“To the second grand opening of The Squid and Dagger. May it be her last,” Deeks toasted, raising his glass above his head. Kensi stood next to him, and surrounding him in a semi-circle were their former team. Eric and Nell had even made the flight in to celebrate the occasion.

“Amen!” Nell called out, whistling loudly. Deeks grinned at her enthusiasm. They all drank, Sam pausing to sniff his first.

“Hey, that’s actually really good,” Eric commented in surprise. He took another drink, as if to double check.

Still looking mistrustful, Sam took a tiny sip, and nodded in reluctant approval. “It’s not bad.”

“Why on earth would the beer taste bad?” Kilbride wondered, looking bemused and slightly out of place in his three-piece suit.

“You’ve never heard the saga of Deeks and Callen’s microbrew ventures?” Rountree asked in surprise.

“No. And I’m beginning to think that’s a good thing.”

“It involved a series of increasingly terrible beer,” Nell explained. “Squid being a memorable one.”

“No, no the seaweed and salmon was definitely the worst,” Sam said firmly. “The flavor is ingrained in my brain.”

“Three years with this team, and I still fail to understand any of you,” Kilbride commented, downing the rest of his beer. “Which means I need something stronger.” He wandered off to the bar, muttering to himself.

“Nice to know some things don’t change,” Kensi said dryly.

The rest of them gravitated towards each other, forming a small group as they sipped at their drinks. Nell had somehow acquired a large red drink with a cocktail umbrella.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, Callen and I are capable of crafting normal beer—remembered the orange and nectarine?” Deeks said, nodding to Kensi. “We just choose not to.”

“I still maintain that none of our stuff was that bad,” Callen insisted. He frowned, holding up his glass, tilting his head to examine the light amber liquid inside. “Though this is kind of bland.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” Sam said in exasperation. He gave Callen a slight shove towards the bar. “C’mon G, let’s go get you some more skunky beer.”

“Mmm, it almost feels like we never left,” Nell said, watching the two fondly bicker.

“It does. Especially with having the bar back,” Deeks agreed. “Speaking of which, I can’t thank you guys enough for helping buy it back.”

“It means a lot to us,” Kensi added, sliding her free arm through Deeks’.

“You’re welcome, but guys, I told you before, I literally would not be where I am without the money that you loaned me for years. Especially Deeks,” Eric replied. “I probably owe you about 10 bars at this point.”

“I think we’ll call it even with one.” She glances at Deeks and he nodded in agreement.

“We’ve got everything we need.”

“Ooh, speaking of needs,” Nell paused to take a healthy gulp of her drink, her Christmas themed had shifting precariously. “When do I get to see my nieces and nephews?”

“Well, I’m guessing the sitter already put the twins down for the night, but we’re free tomorrow. And I’m sure Rosa would love to see you when she’s done with classes,” Kensi replied.

“Awesome! That’ll give us time to get all their gifts together.” Eric nodded enthusiastically. “It’s amazing what they’re doing with kids toys these days.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“He’s teasing, Deeks.” Nell rolled her eyes at Eric, lightly tapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. She giggled, adding in a couple pats lower down on his chest.

Beside him, Kensi hastily stifled a snort, and when Deeks glanced at her, she had her lips tightly pressed together.

“Oh, I love this song,” Nell announced, as the playlist running in the background switched to the next selection. “Mr. Beale, may I have this dance?” Bending at the waist, Nell waved her hand in an elaborate flourish.

“My lady awaits,” Eric said with a shrug as he let Nell tug him away.

“I missed this,” Kensi said wistfully.

“What, Callen and Sam arguing over beer and the Wonder Twins drunkenly dancing on our non-existent dance floor?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Kensi swayed into his side, wrapping both arms around his waist. “I’m glad we have this back.”

He watched Nell and Eric put on a two-person act to “Santa Baby”, giggling the entire time, and couldn’t help but agree.

***

A/N: Once again bringing back the Squid and Dagger as well as Callen and Deeks making beer of dubious quality.

#densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #densimber day 5 #ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #and co #the squid and dagger #fluff #by ejzah

[boxboxlewis]

For a prompt: maxiel rb teammates era, at a club celebrating, first time (of what? Up to you!)

(Btw regardless of whether you use this just wanted to say I looooove your writing. 🥰)

When Daniel wins a race his dick gets bigger. He knows that's not, like, scientific, and he'd never share his theory with anyone: Michael or Blake would absolutely rinse him. But. It's true. The evidence is in his pants.

He wins in China, starting from P6 after an absolute shitshow of a qualifying session, and it feels fucking amazing. Sometimes it's like the car is an extension of his body and as he hurls them both around the track he can feel the car working for him, racing for him, throwing itself around corners because Daniel asks it to, two tons of metal screaming its way to victory at his behest, alive to the touch of his hands and the pressure of his feet on the pedals.

He gets out of the car and he's electric. He wants to fuck the world (consensually, obviously) - make all of existence come on his dick. He feels fucking good and he’s half-hard already, heavy in his fireproofs, and he is going OUT tonight.

He makes it through weigh-in and the podium and the media and he's vibing, he's feeling good, he's laughing and slapping people's backs, he’s cracking jokes, he’s buzzing. Christian gives him a tight cat's-arse smile and says "Well done, Daniel," and Daniel thinks I'm going to FUCK your MOTHERRRRR! and smiles back and says "Yeah, thanks, mate."

Max comes up to him as he’s collecting his stuff from his driver’s room, getting ready to go back to the hotel. He hovers in the doorway, awkward, just watching Daniel, and they’ve already done their back slaps and well dones so what exactly does he want now?

Finally he says, “Do you want to—I thought maybe we could go out tonight.”

Daniel can think of few things he’d enjoy less. Babysitting his teammate on a night out? And this night out, in particular, when Daniel won the fucking race and the city owes him a good time? He says, “Whoa, Maxy. You don’t usually come out,” because that seems friendlier than leading with “No, what the fuck.” Max ducks his head, all shy like a fucking baby kitten or some shit, which is kind of hilarious given how he was driving earlier.

“I just thought—because you won maybe you would like—but of course you do not have to with me, if you’d rather—I know you have your own friends and we do not, we are teammates but maybe—”

Daniel cuts him off before he contorts himself into an awkward knot and dies. “No way, of course I want to go out with you!” he lies enthusiastically. It’s fine, he’s a god-emperor tonight, he can afford to be benevolent. Besides, he’s feeling so good even having a grumpy infant with him won’t crush the mood too much. “Finally get to see you let your hair down, yeah? Drive all the ladies in the club wild?”

Max flushes and looks at the floor. “Yeah, I guess.”

They end up at some glitzy neon-lit rooftop bar, music thumping under their feet, views across the city, beautiful people all around them, everyone laughing and dancing and young and gorgeous and alive. Unsurprisingly, Max does not in fact drive all the ladies wild. He clings to Daniel like a limpet—follows him when Daniel says “Stay here, I’ll get us some drinks”; even trails after him to the gents when Daniel goes for a piss. It’s honestly pretty weird and it’s seriously cramping Daniel’s ability to pick up, which is driving him crazy: there are so many pretty people all around them, and he wants to be kissing one of them. He wants to be grinding his big Grand Prix-winning dick against someone’s ass, he wants to be feeling alive, instead of exchanging inane small talk with his fucking teammate. “Maxy,” he says, trying to think of a nice way to say “you need to get off my dick.”

Max lunges at him, and suddenly Daniel is being thoroughly and inexpertly kissed. In the .2 seconds it takes for his brain to kick in he's already kissing back. He pulls Max to him, rubs a hand over his back, over his soft skin under his shirt, and Max shudders with it. Daniel's got a thigh between Max's legs now, somehow, and they're both hard and panting and it's not quite how Daniel had pictured celebrating his race win but: it'll do.

#asks #my fic #and they were teammates #maxiel fic #f1 #thank you very much for your kind words btw anon!! #this prompt made my day

[notesbyash]

hello, long time no see. how are you? i hope you’re well.

a bit of news to share, some thoughts that I’ve been turning around. I’ve decided that this blog needs a bit of a tonal shift and have made an alteration to my username. as you may have guessed by now quinn isn’t/wasn’t my legal name but rather a pen name used to keep my identity a bit more under wraps. understandable, i think many of us who have been on the internet for a while (or grown up with it as is my case) have picked up the habit. or maybe not; i’ve always been rather guarded about myself online.

it’s official: i’ll be starting a PhD soon. this fall actually. i’d like to keep posting here but PhD work naturally becomes more specified and thus easier to backtrack to find the person behind the screen. i’ve considered just closing this account but i’d like to help other students and young academics as much as i can through sharing my struggles and experiences in an attempt to at least let someone somewhere know that they aren’t alone. that it will always be better in the end.

i’ve done a lot of healing in the time that i’ve been here, and in the time i’ve been away. there’s been far fewer posts of aesthetically handwritten notes and fancy coffees and old books, a shift away from the dark academic and rather dramatic persona i took on at first. i’ve grown to accept parts of myself i’ve spent so long trying to reject, but in doing so realized i made that rejection a cornerstone of the persona epitomized by my previous moniker.

when i started this blog i wanted to push parts of myself away, to adopt a facade of someone cool, calm, and collected. someone unaffected, elegantly detached, twirling away in the world of theory and grand ideas. but i’m not like that. no matter how much i try, i’ve come to understand that that can never truly be me. i get far too wrapped up in the work that i do, far too personally and emotionally invested to be able to skate above it all or maintain the air of aloofness i once so desperately wished to have. i am messy and chaotic and anxious and shy. i write more smoothly than i’ll ever speak; talk too quickly in overlapping thoughts that come out in fragments that end to abruptly or not at all. there’s an softness to me i cannot shake away, an uncertainty i cannot cut out. a tendency to monologue and write for far too long (thank you for bearing with me even this long). an instability of energy, a desperation to know more, always more. an over-attachment to the things i study and the things i love.

to continue under the name quinn now feels disingenuous, and i don’t tend to enjoy that. there are boundaries to what i have shared and will continue to of course, but i’d rather do so under pen name that better reflects who i am, even the unpolished parts, rather than who i’m trying to perform as. i feel i owe myself that much. can’t heal from wearing one mask by putting on another one.

there may be some cosmetic changes to my layout in the near future, some casual redecorating. i’ll be updating my pinned post over time, editing my tagging system to reflect the change. but for now i just wanted to say…

hello. how are you? i hope you are well. you can call me ash.

#writing and posting this at like 2 am with no editing #right on brand #studyblr #notesbyash #growth is a ruthless thing

[enaelyork]

BLUE - A Thrawn x F!Oc (reader) Fanfic [Part 2 - Creep]

Agent E. Tarkin X Grand Admiral Thrawn

[+18 ONLY]

A lot of TW English is not my native speak

--

Chap prompt :

In the midst of preparing for her own wedding, Tarkin realizes that the situation is tense at the academy and that her fiancé is no stranger to it. This is mixed with an unexpected visit that she will have to face against all odds.

For the first post click here

2. Eleanore

—Do you have anything to tell me?

I cast a sidelong glance at my eldest, seated opposite me, almost slumped over the red velvet Voltaire in the large dressing room, wishing that not even marriage made her more lovable. She has decided to fight it out and it's fair game when you know that I repeatedly failed to vomit on her cake.

— This dress is of an unnamed layer. The Empire allows the production of this kind of thing?

—Don't change the conversation, little sister. You have to report to me about last night.

No. It's the last thing I want to say. Her marriage, my condition and above all the meet i made there and which occupies a good part of my mind without asking my opinion.

— Erwin told me that you had consumed spices. Spices ! One my wedding!

— And right now my wedding dress made me look like a Wampa. Life is thus made up of injustices.

Her exasperated growl leads me to believe she's going to throw in the towel. I do not raise the idea that Erwin could have established this kind of hypothesis by dragging me to my bed last night. After all, my future husband assumes that he's been able to think for me since we got engaged. In reality, I don't care what they all think, because even if they offer me as the worst addict, it will never be worse than the truth.

—I would like another dress.

—It's the one father chose for you! And it is the most opulent! For a marriage of your rank, it is totally legitimate to...

— I am not legitimate, Alissandre. And you know it very well.

She scowls in her chair like the spoiled brat that she is, huffing like I've just refused her a candy. My father married her mother when he was young, but that didn't stop him from taking advantage of other situations that came his way. Without the drawbacks, of course. He wouldn't be where he is if he hadn't stepped on a few corpses. Unfortunately, that does not exclude some collateral damage, of which I am one.

—You've always been legitimate in my eyes, El, you know that, don't you?

I put on the second dress without paying him the slightest attention. The simplicity of this one is more like me and I like the curved side which reminds me of the Empire dresses of another time. And white is like the one who wears it.

Broken.

—That's the one I choose. No matter what father thinks.

—But we see your tattoos!

—I will wear the family robe during the ceremony, as is tradition. No one will complain about it.

My genetic heritage makes me much less docile than my father would like. I am convinced that I owe my salvation to my unique physical resemblance to him. Difficult to justify impulses murder on his own reflection.

—Aren't you drinking alcohol anymore?

My question snapped into the air before my sister had time to resume the main discussion. Her glass froze at the entrance to her lips and she gazed at it as if I had just revealed its contents to her, with an innocent little smile that clearly indicated the opposite.

—And last night you weren’t drinking either.

— Such a sense of observation. Even stoned you manage to be lucid. —It's my job to be lucid.

And we both know that i don't talk about the lessons I give at the officers' academy. Averting her gaze to the ground, she bites the inside of her cheek, and from where I am I can see her mind working at full speed. Luckily, it's my holovid that puts an end to her suffering.

—Tarkin. Sorry to interrupt your testing. The grizzled silhouette of Colonel Yularen appears through the dusty air that flies around me and I guess from his stern expression that he is not there to give me an opinion on the dress.

—There was a problem here.

—What kind of problem ?

—A soldier's problem! Lewis blasted the instructors during the evaluation.

—Lewis?" Sarcasm transpires from my echoes. It's not like this soldier was the blood type. I don't always prove him wrong, especially when he says out loud what I'm quietly thinking, but by doing so in my absence he exposes himself to heavy reprisals.

—And why now? Before he has time to answer me, I remember my conversations with Erwin this morning and how excited he was to attend the TIE pilot selection test. On many occasions, Lewis came into conflict with his superiors – with my future husband, for example – and never hesitated to be honest with them. As everyone knows, the franchise does not mix well with the hierarchy.

—Oh damn it.

—You need to come back here immediately and sort this out. I am taken aback by a visit… Surprise and I would not like it to turn into a rat race.

I raise my eyebrows, hoping my superior notices my surprise, but obviously the identity of our guest is being kept secret, even from me.

—Right. I'll be quick. I turn off the holovid and turn to my sister, reassured to learn that I'm going to leave her without holding her to account.

— Duty calls me !

—Was it Yularen?" I'm going to end up believing that it's him you're going to marry.

Amused by her remark, I give her a grin as I put on my lieutenant's uniform. I share a lot more with Yularen than with my own family and it's hard to hide it. Despite my numerous pranks, my often obvious disregard for orders, he has always had faith in my deductions and he may take the place of the father in my mind that I do not really have.

—Too old for me. I grab my jacket and get ready to leave before returning to place a kiss on the forehead of my eldest. Although we are very different, she is still my sister and I respect her for all these years of putting up with my mood swings.

—I'm taking this dress, don't try to rip me off.

—So be it. I guess I can at least leave that choice to you.

— You must. I hesitate again before leaving, gazing at her tired face, her dark circles pulling her eyes into darkness and the little upset lines on her forehead.

—You're not hiding anything from me, are you?

—Of course El’, why would I do such a thing?

Wrong answer. That's what I was thinking as I closed the door behind me, my heart heavy with the unsettling feeling that she's never lied to me like she does now.

***

Things never happen by chance. In my heart , I am convinced that a supernatural force acts on this world with such force that it is our conductor. It composes our existence, aligns the planets and creates in our lives a succession of simultaneous events that impact us, make sense to us. Or destroy us. That's what I thought when I arrived at the academy. Earpieces firmly screwed on my eardrums swing at full speed one of my favorite songs. And she could never have fallen so badly. The drums hit in my head to the rhythm of my heart which accelerates when I see the silhouette of the guest. An almost familiar shadow that I have only seen once in my life – probably too many – is leaning over a file alongside the colonel. They haven't seen me yet, but I recognized him and I want to run away.

The ghost.

His black hair tending towards midnight blue, his skin of such a surprising color and his white uniform, the eternal attire of the great officers of the Imperial Navy.

Same as Rae Sloane.

When his twilight eyes look up at me, the often-heard lyrics of the song take on a whole new meaning, almost seeming to tell me about my own existence.

What the hell is he doing there? Why is he giving me such a smirk? Why do I want to die?

Refusing to lose to his staring game, I stay the course, trying to continue on my way without tripping and falling. Yularen, who finally seems to understand that he has lost his interlocutor's attention, looks up in turn and I give him a thumbs up. Our way of signaling to us that the situation is under control.

Lie.

The large window that separates the colonel's office from the rest of the academy seems endless to me, but it is above all the regret of detaching myself from this gaze that pursues me, that weighs on my soul. Tempted to change fingers and address my middle finger to this strange white uniform, I retract, thinking that it is rather inappropriate for a lieutenant to insult a great admiral, no matter if he made us vomit the day before or not. Nothing is due to chance, and his presence here, the day after the strange interview we shared, shows me the irrefutable proof.

***

—I'm in charge.

I seem calm facing Lewis, but inside there is an indescribable rage at his story. There he is, his hair disheveled and the look of a rabid animal that has been caged and rightly so. How can you do such a thing and think you'll get away with it?

And it might have worked if Yularen hadn't had a nose for getting me back here. The scam of the century would have taken place there, behind my back, while I was trying on my wedding dress.

—Those bastards, they...

—Be polite to your superiors, ensign.

I have always been surprised by the rank of this man. A few years separate us and he strives to stay at the bottom of the rung. I ultimately put it down to his explosive temper and his willingness to do battle with the entire galaxy. The Empire likes belligerent spirits as long as it can easily control them, and Archibalt Lewis is the kind of spirit you can't control.

—I will inform the Colonel immediately. But you stay here. No wave or else you will be off until the end of your days.

—What if he doesn't give me the chance to start over?

—He will do it. What happened is unacceptable. You have my word.

And the word is weak. What is even more so is that I suspect my fiancé of having investigated this hoax behind my back. What weight can we give to a marriage that is built on this kind of lie when we have not even exchanged our vows? Without thinking about the fact that I will be confronted by this man again, I walk up the main corridor with the same determination as before and glare at Yularen as I enter uninvited.

— We need to talk.

I still don't know who I was really addressing these words to, but both of them looked up as if a hurricane was passing over them.

—Not now, Tarkin, I…

— Now. Please. And I do not need to be asked to return to the corridor, forcing the colonel to apologize to his very dear colleague to whom I address a triumphant look.

—They tampered with the selection test.

It only lasts a minute. The time to unpack everything in front of his face which, at first casual, takes on an expression imbued with a mixture of seriousness and anger. He can roll his eyes, be exasperated by my impertinence, what I tell him shocks him as much as me. I won the first round, remains to hold the length in the final battle.

— Grand Admiral Thrawn. The colonel begins by entering his office, inviting me to join him there. I'm sorry. Lieutenant Tarkin can be stubborn, often even, but this matter is urgent and we must deal with it as soon as possible.

—You allow ?

Thrawn.

His name echoes in my mind. Introductions are made and at least I know what to call whoever stuck his fingers down my throat to save my life.

Save my life. You are delirious, damn!

The Grand Admiral nods, a controlled sneer gouging out his chiseled dimples as soon as he expresses the slightest emotion, making me want to admire him for hours.

—Obviously Colonel. Can I join you?

What?

— No. I said, panicked, before my superior's mustache moved.

—Tarkin!

—The affairs of the academy do not concern senior naval officers.

—I'm here to study how your hierarchy works, not to spy on you, Lieutenant Tarkin. This is not my field, espionage.

The hissing tone with which he whispers my name and the knowing smile he gives me immediately send an icy current down my spine. I don't have time to hold him details for his dubious insinuations that the instructors summoned by Yularen are already tumbling into the office. Leaving their enthusiasm on the threshold of the door, they wear a serious look when they see me, Erwin the first. He barely glances at me when he takes his place around the table in the office.

—You are here. Regret, bitterness, annoyance. No more doubt in his acid tone that he would have preferred to see me as a Wampa than here to defy him and his whole gang of friends.

Bastard.

—I choose quickly. He doesn't answer, glares at me with a murderous look and I divert the conversation before it turns to the cleaning scene. It's pretty inappropriate to fight with your future husband in front of a superior officer.

—Gentlemen, Grand Admiral Thrawn honors us with his presence for this emergency meeting. I hope none of you have any problem with that?

Yes, me: his eyes, riveted on me like magnets and my desire to dive into them. But my opinion does not seem to worry anyone. They are far too busy giving him looks full of contempt that he completely ignores. I imagine that a non-human so high in the hierarchy must attract hatred as a person and that he has learned to detach himself from it.

—Lieutenant Tarkin tells me there was a problem with the TIE fighter selection test.

—I say he has to retake the selection test.

—Even if he tries again, he will never succeed.

As a big winner, Erwin puts both elbows on the table, satisfied with his small effect. Lewis is one of my proteges, I train him for a completely different purpose than to integrate the TIE squadrons. So I remain silent, watching my fiancé destroy everything I had worked so hard to build. Am I really supposed to marry this man? Is this the jerk my dad has in store for me?

Yularen is at the other end of the group. Through my eyes I send him flashes so dazzling that he could die electrocuted and he adds nothing, leaving Erwin to rant all this nonsense in a religious silence that annoys me.

—He didn't pass half the test. Here is the problem ! adds Jenkins grimly, encouraged by his two friends.

—We can talk about the ship you imposed on him. A heavy silence settles between us, nothing but nervous breaths filter before the counterattack. It's off to a good start, we're going to have fun.

—Can we know what you're up to, Tarkin? Piloting is not one of your areas of expertise.

—And believe me, she is very competent in many other areas.

My fiancé's remark draws a thick laugh from the assembly, but leaves Yularen indifferent. Thrawn is stone cold, mute, contemplative, but something strange shines in his unfathomable gaze.

—You don't have to be competent to know that you don't test a future Imperial pilot with a ship straight out of the remains of the High Republic.

—Eleanor darling, don't you think you're exaggerating? You've always had a soft spot for this soldier, I don't know why you like him so much.

—It’s funny you mention that, because I really felt like I was witnessing a settling of accounts.

Because Erwin hates Lewis and his bad language more than anything. If he could get rid of them he would sign a pact with the devil because they have already come to blows several times. Lewis owes his salvation to his skills and my determination to exploit his potential for other useful purposes.

—Those are guesses, Admiral Spencer. I say, deliberately using a detached tone. It was not a family reunion here and although I go far beyond the codes of politeness, I try to respect the hierarchy as best I can. The facts are that we tend to evaluate everyone the same way to determine their exact skills. Outside, Lewis did not have the same materials to carry out his test.

— Each candidate must demonstrate their ability to react to unexpected situations.

—So it's true, Admiral Spencer?

The colonel comes out of his meditative silence and it allows me to look up at the big blue who is watching me from the other side of the table. I can't make out what he's hiding, his fingers hanging over his mouth contemplatively. But it's obvious that I want to slap him. Everything all right, Grand Admiral? Would you like something to eat or drink to enjoy the show? I feel like a freak under his incandescent eyes and never has a feeling been so disturbing and fascinating to me at the same time.

Meanwhile, Erwin leaned back in his chair, giving his companions a defeated look. He knows the tide is turning and not in his favor.

— It is true that we did not have the possibility of offering him the same ship.

—And what ship did he use?" I know the answer, they too, as to whether they are going to have the courage to admit it in front of the colonel is another matter. Don't worry, I have way more balls than all these men put together, if they chicken out they can count on me to do the job. Erwin strikes me down and he must probably remember all the advantages that our marriage will bring him so as not to disfigure me on the spot.

— A T-1 class shuttle

—It's an antique!" You realize ? Has he at least been trained in the mechanics of this machine? Again, the answer is easy.

—He may not have been, but he must…

—An evaluation requires equal criteria for all recruits, gentlemen! Do you understand that by refusing success you are going into a wall?

Yularen is revolted, perhaps even enraged, but his background in ISB allows him to conceal that kind of emotion. It is also this skill that manages to contain me in my euphoria, I value my existence and these men already have enough reasons to end me.

— He failed. I'm sorry, Colonel, but the recruit has shown little commitment. He refused most of the exercises, so…

— Without the proper equipment I would have done the same thing. In order not to make you look like idiots, I advise you to invalidate the test and to make him pass this one with adequate equipment.

They stared at each other as if they had been told that they would go to forced labor on Geonosis.

—And an outside jury. I said like i want to shoot everyone in this room.

This time I'm going too far. Yularen makes me understand by blowing loudly, about to explode.

—An outside jury?" What next ? Are you going to ask that he be evaluated at another academy? quips Erwin, scandalized by my demands.

—That could be the solution.

—That's no way, Tarkin!" You can't send for an officer on the pretext that...

— I accept.

His voice rises in our midst, plunging the room into a deep silence, everyone staring at him as if he had just magically appeared.

— YOU ? Grand Admiral, is that...

—I am here and available to the academy for one more day if necessary.

I view the Big Blue with great suspicion, having learned over the years that nothing in the Imperial Army offers itself. Why does he offer his help so readily? As my eyes are about to meet his, he lowers his lids with a smirk that doesn't bode well.

—Would you do that?" asks Yularen, as surprised as I am by this strange proposition. He hesitates, fixes his eyes on me as if his life depended on it and I have all the trouble in the world to observe a fixed point in the void and not drown in his contemplation. I hope my legendary self-control manages to contain the blush rising in my cheeks.

— It will avoid any discussion.

— Well, I see that the problem is solved! rejoiced Yularen, clapping his hands to get his troops moving. Gentlemen, prepare the test as quickly as possible so as not to keep the Grand Admiral waiting.

And they leave the room not without bad looking at me. I easily imagine all the scenarios that go through their heads and in particular in my future husband's. He leans towards me menacingly.

—I imagine you're proud of you. Take advantage of Yularen's aura, because you will soon have to learn to shut up.

I try to keep my composure and avoid his amber gaze filled with rage. If he already knew all that I manage to contain inside me, he would be deeply shocked. He slams the door behind him with such violence that it propels a breath filled with his spicy perfume and my attention returns to the grand admiral who has not missed a beat of the show.

Did he hear? Why does his presence seem to crush me so insistently?

—Can I go ? Yularen really wants to preach me, but the presence of a white uniform in the same room as us frustrates him and he waves his hand off.

— Yes. You have work on the evaluation of the C10 team, they are waiting for you.

And I literally ran away, hoping no one guessed how much my body was shaking.

[Previous] - [Next]

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x oc #thrawn fanfiction #grand admiral thrawn x reader #thrawn x reader #thrawn #starwars #star wars fanfiction #slowburn #romance #thrawn trilogy #chiss #mitth'raw'nuruodo

[zingaplanet]

I'm curious if anyone else feels sad at the rise of Carlos Alcaraz...part of me wants to root for him. More than his brilliance, he seems like a really nice guy. BUT...I don't want Rafa's supreme legacy challenged in any way, shape, or form. I selfishly want Rafa to always be Spain's biggest icon and for his tennis records to be untouched. So I find myself rooting against Alcaraz. I just miss Rafa...

Anon that's completely normal! I completely get it. I think the feeling of idolation we have of someone is very unique, it's love, it's respect, but most of all it's wanting someone to do well (without any discernible reason or direct benefit to us!) I think tbh being a fan is one of the most positive acts (except when you over-imposed on their privacy of course!) one can do, you shower someone with love, support and admiration without expecting anything back. So you are definitely not being selfish, in fact, you are being selfless for the sake of another (although unfortunately since this is competitive sport and not the music industry where the winner takes all principle doesn't really apply, this might clash with other people's interests).

I think for me at least in sports, a good practice is to try and support/love with no expectations or demands. Our heroes don't really owe us anything nor us to them. There will always be another person, another winner, another number one, and there's nothing really we can do about it! History is always rewritten because nothing is ever eternal. But that also doesn't mean that it's not emotionally difficult. A bit like you always want your childhood memories to stay the same, your best friends to remain close to you as you grow old, and your favourite tv show to always plays on Friday night for the rest of your life. But time always moves on, especially in sports when career expectancy is very short! This past 5 years we're already seeing generations change not just in tennis but in all sports (And what a generation it has been!), no more Phelps, Serena Williams, Vettel, Federer, Kobe, etc. I personally think it's painful because these athletes are not just who we support but they've also become parts of our lives to a little bit (and maybe our youth), ways we remember good memories with! It's completely alright not to support the new generations, maybe that's something our children will have the privilege to discover (Someone their generation that they'll grow up watching!). But the danger maybe is when that fear of change turns into negative thoughts and actions, and for me I guess maybe that's why I kinda stopped watching tennis since awhile now. Players I used to watch growing up are no longer actively on tour, and that's ok, they grew up too! I just don't want to find reasons to irrationally hate anybody because I think I hate it the most when sports become a divisive force instead of a uniting one.

I think the key is knowing that records can be broken but legacies are forever. Because legacies are so much more than physical achievements (tournaments won, grand slams gained, etc), but how somebody is remembered in the memories of many! For me I'll never forget how watching the Wimbledon Final 2008 made me feel, the adrenaline, the rush, being surrounded by family during a nice, warm summer, or the inspiration I felt when watching Rafa get back up and up again from his injuries! That's what matters, I think, and that's what he said he wants to be remembered most by, not the guy who wins the most grand slam title, spain number one or anything, but just a good guy who competes fiercely and fairly, who are kind to his friends and fans, and who leaves the sport better than when he entered it! In a way, I think that's how they themselves as athletes make their peace with this, and why Federer was able to have such a happy retirement.

I don't know if this helps at all, sorry for accidentally being your tumblr psychologist, this is prob a weird answer to an ask! hahaha just giving you lots of mental support and hug <3 (Also sorry for the late reply! just had the time to go through tumblr properly now)

#rafael nadal #rafa #nadal #ask #tennis #carlos alcaraz #sports

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Unexpected

I mean, the work day wasn't unexpected. I got left with the lion's share of the fiddly annoying bullshit, which I finished ... well, more or less on time, since the grand finale for the afternoon was a seventeen-minute monstrosity by The Breast Guy. I was just about to start that off and praying I'd finish at least more or less by 5pm when my mobile rang - my stepfather. He's been at the other flat a lot lately, which means hey, great, maybe something's going to happen and this one will start getting renovated soon! (Though watch; I'm going to end up living back at the other flat for another three-plus years while he procrastinates. But at least he's doing stuff and I might be able to have an actual shower and non-leaky faucets sometime before 2025.) Anyway, I probably sounded frazzled, since his first response was, "Sorry to disturb". Then he asked if he could drop something off and I was like, "...Okay, sure", while wondering what the hell he could possibly be wanting to drop in my general direction.

The answer? ...Cutlery, apparently. They got new cutlery for themselves and thought I might like their old set (or, well, part of their old set, because I am highly unlikely to ever need more than four place settings at a go).

No, see, as may have been gathered by this point, the parentals have a lot more money than I do. This is why I tend to ask for things like cookware as Christmas and birthday gifts - they can afford the good stuff and understand this stuff as an investment. You know, better to have a really good pot that you may not have to replace in your entire lifetime than have a cheap piece of crap that'll be unusuable in a couple of years. The "Vimes 'Boots' Theory of Socio-Economic Unfairness" as applied to cookware. Now, when I was first living on my own, I had cheap crappy aluminium cutlery with about the heft of the average chewing gum wrapper (and almost the same ability to bend). But I graduated from that, in a sense - really good sale on a cutlery set at Habitat. So I have some pretty solid cutlery but not ... you know, The Best. The parentals, however? Probably not The Absolute Best either, but I have always been rather admiring of their cutlery. It is some solid shit, lemme tell you. So I guess they remembered how much I liked theirs and thought I would give it a good home. Which I obviously will, because if there's one thing my ongoing cookery kick has taught me, it's the benefits of having good shit in the kitchen.

Long story short, that cheered me up enough to get through the seventeen-minute monstrosity with ... okay, I was only really tempted to fling the laptop at the nearest wall once. So that's a win. I still hurt like hell, mind, and I'm counting the days to my week off (a little under two weeks and counting - my birthday present to myself every year), but there was a bright spot. New kitchenware has that effect. I got myself a wok recently, and my next purchase is going to be a 9" by 13" baking tin, which I need for a specific Baking Yesteryear dessert. (Actually for a lot of Baking Yesteryear desserts. Also brownies.) Also, bright spot in that the workday is over and after a little bit of time to let some of the OW fade, I will be making gluten-free fish fingers (well, technically cod goujons, but that's a wee bit pretentious) and relaxing with a little bit of Baldur's Gate 3 or something.

#Thess has a day job #Thess has parental units #Thess cooks