#( ask. )

[lvlcurrent]

Okay hear me out, your art style with the princess Diavolo sticker/dress

voila 🙂‍↕️

[imjustapoorwayfaringgeek]

ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

no u 🫵

(i love you)

[halcyon-writings]

god the modern piece you did with maegor made me laugh out loud in the break room especially with “because that’s your name”

im glad it landed bc I was cracking up just as I was writing it.

There’s something fascinating (read: terrifying) about the sight of Maegor Targaryen yearning. He does not yearn, he corrects.

And yet, he lets you reload your account to some overpriced coffee shop that makes really good breakfast sandwiches with his card. Not the company card. His own personal card. It felt like a small weight in your palm the first time he’d handed it to you.

The sight of one Maegor Targaryen, CFO and resident boogeyman to anybody who lazed about and played games on company time, simply sitting in your own smaller office just because you’re there, freaked many of your department members out. He mostly just sat, quiet and contemplative at least as he looked out the window.

“Please do not scare any more interns, they need the college credits,” You admonish slightly.

Maegor grunts.

(He still scares a poor intern who had been trying to flirt with him with a look of disdain.)

There’s also the fact that Visenya Targaryen knew about you. That alone was frightening enough.

But it was the fact that Maegor had told her about you. So you nearly felt your heart stop when some of her own security came to escort you to a short lunch with her.

At least Aenys was there too. His penchant for easy conversation and the skill to keep it going were both blessings you did not know you had needed until this very moment. Even he managed to get Visenya’s attention more than once, but she would return her keen gaze directly on you.

You looked like a deer caught in headlights. You felt like it too, and this intimidating woman was the person driving the car that was about to hit you.

(It was nothing that scary, you don’t hear Visenya say as she meets with her son for dinner.)

Do you nearly faint when you learn that you made a good first impression? Absolutely.

But Maegor buys you lunch and you order yourself something sweet (or two) to make up for it.

[genus-type-error]

Syringeon what is your opinion on the jacksepticeye and the Markiplier

I dont know who that is.

Bonus:

[dimitresca]

Stop it. Stop bein' so tall.

[caligulaascendit]

M!a mandatory cat ears. They're real btw. 5 days <3

Eridan ==> Put on the fucking purrbeast ears I guess

[musicallisto]

ooooh ok wait can i be totally selfish and annoying and ask 🌊 and 🐋 for a max verstappen boxer au oh plssss pls pls it would fix me i think i would love you forever kiss kiss bowing down pleading begging

· · · · ♡ boxer!max verstappen…

whoever it was causing this terrible racket by your bar, you were going to fuck them up.

you were not about to scamper off in front of some low-rent punk, red light district or not. not when you spent your evenings breaking apart all of amsterdam's hot-headed idiots, who still hadn't figured out the only place for a fight was the ring five meters away...

—oh. you stopped dead in your tracks at the end of the corridor, instantly recognizing the blond-haired man huffing and puffing by the sandbag, in a corner of the ring. maybe you were not going to fuck up max verstappen. your boss would not like a run-in with the four-time boxing champion, his clandestine ring's most lucrative stallion. neither would your nose.

you observed him in silence, leaning against the concrete wall as he dealt powerful blow after powerful blow, his taut muscles glittering with sweat under the tungsten lights. hard not to be appreciative of his strong frame splitting the air open with each thunderous strike. of his breathless grunts, barely audible over the loud thumps at the ends of his fists.

"pretty intense for a morning routine," you spoke after a little while, startling him out of his trance. his head snapped as he turned on his heels, narrowed eyes and parted lips. he was handsome, when his chest was racing after a breath. you'd never seen him up close—never talked to him; you led lives on opposite sides of the bar. him on straw mats and you between bottles.

"sorry for scaring you, champ," you said joyfully as you made your way to your absolute mess of a bar.

"no, you didn't... it's just... what are you doing here?"

"well, you know, i work here and all." you chuckled back. why was the infamous mad max's flustered stuttering so damn adorable? "and someone can't deal with a closing shift to save their fucking life, so obviously i get to pick up the pieces. what are you doing here? it's barely six in the morning."

"i like to train in the morning. it's calm."

max verstappen would train in the antichamber of death if he could, you thought to yourself as your eyes slid over to the bruises and lacerations on his toned arms. the price of legend, you assumed.

"well, don't let me distract you," you had ahead of you long hours of cleaning up broken glass and—was that puke?

you groaned. thump! of course, verstappen was back at it again, cold and precise like he'd never been interrupted in the first place. you took your head into your hands, as if that could make the retching go away. thump!

"max?"

"...yes?" you'd never expected the legendary mad max to sound so soft-spoken.

"will you teach me how to punch stuff really hard sometime?"