#BRING OUT THE OLD SCHOOL TRACKS!

[bmpmp3]

man in his mid 20s who says tee hee

[alexiroflife]

"megumi is annoyed with gojo for getting distracted with you and being late for everything because of it, so he makes it his life’s mission to ruin gojo’s chances of dating you..."

fluff, crack

gojo has a severe issue with constantly following you like a puppy dog wherever you go. after that day he had run into you on a whim at the park, your pretty (e/c) eyes locking with his as you both shared passing glances the moment your shoulders brushed, he was stuck to you. gojo stopped dead in his tracks, calling out to you and asking what your name was. you turned over your shoulder, stuttering to a stop upon realizing that handsome guy had been talking to you. you told him your name, that you attended the university down the block, and he was set.

gojo was sure to secure your number before you parted ways that day, approaching you as interested in friendship rather than someone completely enamored by your beauty and desperate to get to know you more. he would text you every day, from then on, pressing further about your hobbies and inserting himself into your daily routine, which you fortunately did not mind. the two of you end up spending a lot of time together, thoroughly enjoying each other’s presence.

megumi, ten years old, witnesses gojo’s clinginess with you fast because it quickly has an affect on how often gojo fulfills his responsibilities in looking after him. megumi remembers the first time gojo forgot about him because he was distracted by you. he had been meant to purchase and drop of megumi’s weekly groceries, but he ran into you at the supermarket and ended up helping you take your groceries home instead. megumi had to wait three hours for gojo to bring him his next week’s supply of food. things like this continued to happen the longer you to knew each other, but megumi knows it isn’t your fault that gojo is attached to you at the hip and flirts with you shamelessly but won’t muster up the courage to tell you he likes you. 

megumi’s last straw is when he is left stranded outside of his elementary school for forty-five minutes because he ran into you “eating at a cafe by yourself and you needed company.” the ten year old watches gojo pull up slowly with you in the passenger’s seat, waving at him apologetically with a kind smile. his blood boils as gojo smiles, shrugging bashfully and saying he lost track of time. megumi decides with a hastiness that he would ruin every chance gojo takes to flirt with you after the twenty one year old suddenly announces that he is driving twenty minutes opposite of his house to drop you off at your dorm. 

gojo first senses something is off when you are over at megumi’s house one day after school, looking for snacks in the cabinets. gojo and megumi are sitting at the kitchen island while megumi does his homework and gojo watches you move around with a soft smile on his lips, chin propped in his palm. you turn over your shoulder and ask the two if they have any chips, to which megumi beats gojo to answering: “gojo ate them all. he’s always eating everything in my house. i try to get him to stop, but i guess he just gets too hungry.” the white haired man slowly turns to face megumi as you carry on about your business, eyes wide and a mortified smile on his face. megumi doesn’t look at him, continuing his english homework. 

gojo knows he’s being targeted the second time around, when he suggests that you sleep over in his room because it is getting late and megumi advises you not to because he allegedly saw a nonexistent redhead leaving his room last night and is ‘worried about your exposure to lice.’ gojo chases the spikey haired kid around his living room later on after you inevitably go home, threatening to take him back to the zenin clan. 

the day megumi outright proposes that you get a boyfriend during a car ride over to your campus, gojo almost loses control of the steering wheel and decides he has to keep you as far away from megumi as possible. megumi gets his wish when gojo begins to pay more attention to the days he’s supposed to pick him up from school and separates his days with you from them accordingly, but megumi doesn’t plan to let this slide so easily. for weeks, he suffered the aftermath of gojo getting distracted by being your shadow, and for weeks gojo would suffer his karma.

when he hears you on the phone with him, megumi barges in the room and loudly asks to talk to you. you, overhearing, welcome the conversation gladly and ask gojo to hand over the phone while he glares animatedly at the boy’s blank face. he has to wait twenty minutes for megumi to finish talking monotonously about his day into the speaker, and by the time gojo gets his phone back, you have to head to a meeting with your classmates. the call ends and gojo ponders over why his kid is praying so intently over his downfall. 

and of course there are the days when you ask to come over to see gojo and megumi, and gojo is physically incapable of refusing quality time with you or telling you no in any regard. he practically begs megumi on his knees to behave five minutes before you arrive, to which the fushiguro blatantly ignores. the blue eyed sorcerer is fuming with rage as he sits across from you and megumi, watching as you help him with his science project after him asking for your assistance, a stunning, bubbly grin on your face. gojo’s initial frustrations shift into envy for your attention, and before you know it he’s pouting with his arms crossed in silence. 

megumi is satisfied with himself, concluding that gojo is officially fed up and has given up completely on pursuing you. he commends himself mutely for his successes after working so hard, though his actual enjoyment of your tranquil company made the experience more tolerable. he runs off to take a shower when you’re grabbing your belongings, preparing to uber back to your dorm. normally gojo pesters you about letting him drive you home when you’re over, so when he only flashes you a smile and holds the door for you as you walk through, you immediately think something is wrong.

the blue eyed man’s lips press together, eyes blank as he shakes and tells you everything is okay. your eyes slim in suspicion as you look over his face, unconvinced by his horrible lying skills. you ask again and he smiles again, telling you he is fine and to go enjoy the rest of your day without him. you furrow your brows in confusion before realizing that you had been busy with little megumi all day and hardly paid attention to your friend. he’s jealous. you giggle, and find it cute the way his half smile melts and he broods, perplexed by your laughter. 

you tease your friend of a few months, telling him that the next time you hang out, you two will spend the day alone. pink rises to gojo’s cheeks. “you still wanna spend time with me?” he asks and you scoff. “yeah, why wouldn’t i?” “i don’t know, i just thought megumi convinced you not to like me…”

you laugh again, the sound ringing like church bells in his ear. you tell him he’s ridiculous for getting worked up over a ten picking on him and puffs his lips and rolls his eyes. you know there is a mutual attraction shared between you and gojo. you’ve liked him since the second he asked for your number, but never said anything because he limited your relationship to what you assumed ws platonic flirting. now, watching him pout over the thought that megumi pushed you away makes you realize that there may be something real to his attachment to you.

a smug smile lifts to gojo’s face and his mood immediately improves. he tells you he’ll pick you up from your math class tomorrow for a ride, just the two of you. you hum in agreement and lean up to your tiptoes, holding the side of his face with your fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. “it's a date,” you say. you pull away and his expression is dopey, eyes dazed and grin bright. 

megumi runs back into the living room at the wrong time. he goes to grab his bookbag from the sofa and return it to his room when he catches a glimpse of the horror, his face scrunching in disgust as you peck gojo’s cheek at the front door. megumi turns grim, mourning over his failed plan. oh well, he tried. he wishes you luck dealing with that freak, and figures that the next time gojo annoys him, he can just save himself half the trouble and log him out of the shared netflix account.

you are halfway out the door, smile making your cheeks ache and heart bursting, when you hear megumi shouting from inside. “wash your mouth when you get home, (y/n)! you don’t know where he’s been!” you hear the front door slam and dramatic, muffled complaining follow as you walk to your uber stifling a laugh.

[hairmetal666]

Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.

But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.

The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.

He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--

What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.

There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.

He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.

Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.

The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.

He's beautiful.

The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.

Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--

He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.

---

Steve goes back the next night.

He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.

It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--

Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.

There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.

Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.

He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."

The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"

Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"

"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"

"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."

"Is that right? Surely not this much."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."

Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.

"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.

"To Chicago or to this club?"

"Don't be cute."

"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."

Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."

He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."

"And one of the things was that you like dick?"

"Looks like it."

'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."

"Impressed?"

Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."

"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.

"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.

They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.

"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"

"Weird?"

"Fucking hot, dude."

"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.

"Course,"

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"You could do something about it."

Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.

"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.

"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.

He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.

It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.

They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.

Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.

Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"

"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."

Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."

[baronessvonglitter]

Bad Santa

sleazy mall Santa!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is a hot and horny mess and wears a short skirt. Mall Santa is a perv, but he's your perv. Semi-public masturbation (f). Squirting. Cockwarming. Semi-public sex. Infidelity. Unprotected piv. Oral (m & f receiving). Analingus (f receiving). Possibly illegal use of a candy cane. Creampie. Come swallowing. Santa Joel is a menace and a sleaze but that's what we all need, right?

Author's Note: one of the first things I learned about @strang3lov3 is that we share a deep love for Bad Santa (and Billy Bob in general) so this is written in her honor. Bug, I hope you enjoy Santa Joel, and don't forget to leave out some cigs and whiskey for him on Xmas Eve. (And the latest edition of Hustler. He's an old-school magazine man.)

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're home on Christmas break from college and all you want to do is fuck the boyfriend you left behind and have been faithful to for four long, painful months. But the only thing on Derek's mind is doing last minute Christmas shopping.

The mall on Christmas Eve is the last circle of hell.

Derek guides you through the crowd. "Sleigh Ride" plays over the speakers, tinny, bright and cheery. You hate it. You're impatient. You're horny. You need to find a way to get him alone, even just a fingerbang would suffice. For now.

You pass by the huge Christmas tree in the center where the mall Santa waits with bored-looking elves. There's no line, which is surprising given it's the last day for photo ops.

Santa watches as you pass, cheap plastic beard hanging off, revealing gray scruff, his red suit wrinkled and stained. You track his gaze roving over your figure, fully concentrating on the jiggle of your ass under the short skirt you'd picked out in the hopes of getting a quickie.

"God damn," you hear him mutter. "Merry Christmas, babygirl." he calls out.

You glance back and see him pull the beard down, wiggling his tongue at you in a lewd manner.

Fucking sleaze. But your pussy is wet and throbbing, and this is the first bit of attention you've had all day. You respond by stuffing your tongue in your cheek and making a blow job motion. Santa licks his lips and subtly palms his cock over his fluffy red pants.

Derek, oblivious, is walking you towards a department store.

"Mommy said she'd like a new bathrobe for Christmas," he says, bringing you past the awful perfume and makeup counters. You heard right.. Mommy. What the fuck?

"Didn't you already buy her a foot massager?" you ask, barely hiding your disinterest, looking around for a corner where you can blow him.

"She said she wants the robe instead," he says, diligently checking each one on the rack. Pink, green, blue, they're all in ugly prints and you wonder how little he must think of his mom to actually buy her a bathrobe instead of something nice.

But the bigger problem is your aching cunt.

"Derek, come on, just pick one out," you beg him, whispering in his ear, giving his lobe a little bite.

"Calm down, we're in public," he chides you over nervous laughter.

"So? That makes it more exciting." Closer to him as the clothing rack hides you, you cup his crotch, disappointed to find he isn't even remotely hard. Not a problem. You know exactly how to get him started.

"Let's go to the dressing room," you tell him before he can remove your hand. "I'll let you do whatever you want, please, I just need you now.."

"Get a hold of yourself," he whispers harshly, finally pulling your hand from him.

"Derek, what the fuck?" you whisper back. "Your horny girlfriend wants you to fuck her in a semi-public place and you're limp as a fucking noodle. Don't you want to at least watch me get off?"

You're not even allowing him time to think about it, leading him to the men's dressing room, where you're less likely to set off an alarm than the women's. You step into the first stall and push him against the wall, caging him in with your arms.

"Sweetheart, what the hell?"

"Fuck me," you tell him. "Jesus, Derek, I'm pussy on a plate right now." You lift your leg, rubbing against him, but only the fly of his jeans provides any feeling. "And you can't even get hard??"

"You're coming on a little strong," he says faintly, as if he's being cornered by a feral animal. And in a way he is.

You lean back on the little dressing room seat, hiking up your skirt. "At least eat me out, for Christ's sake," you whine, fingers dipping into your dripping-over cunt.

"Darling! You're acting like a crazy person," he says, shielding his eyes as you desperately finger yourself.

"You're such a pussy," you grunt out, breath hitching as you fuck yourself on two, then three fingers.

"You're not wearing any panties??" he says too loud, but you're past caring who hears, or if anyone even walks in. You'll gratefully fuck the store manager and the security guard who'll probably come to haul you away.

Derek keeps his gaze averted as you continue shamelessly fucking your hand, reaching inside your dress to twist your nipple. "Derek.. fuck.. you just gonna stand there and be useless?" You shove a fourth finger in your snatch, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your boyfriend is deeply afraid as he risks a peek from between his hands covering his face. "You look possessed! You have to stop or someone's going to hear you!"

"Baby, please, put your cock in my mouth," you beg, still working yourself into a frenzy. "Jizz on my face, anything, please!" You're on the floor now, riding your own fingers, your other hand madly strumming at your clit like a perverted version of air guitar.

There's a knock at the dressing room door, to which you answer "Go away, we're fucking" Then you come, squirting all over the bathrobe Derek was going to gift his dear mommy.

"You're lucky that guy didn't turn us into the police," Derek says, tight-lipped as he leads you back towards the center of the mall. "Got it all out of your system?" He's leaving the store embarrassed and minus any gifts.

"Yes," you sigh in exasperation, though it's a bald-faced lie. The need is growing again and you're just a slave to it. Your hands itch to go up your skirt again, to relieve the tension before it becomes unbearable.

And there he is, right where you left him before. Fucking Santa Claus. Like he's been waiting for you this whole time.

"Let's take a picture," you pull on Derek's hand. "Please? End the day on a good note?" You do your best to look contrite but all you're thinking about is sitting on that sleazy man's lap, maybe getting felt up. It'd be fucking amazing to have someone touch you besides your own fingers.

Before he can even protest you're practically skipping past the velvet rope and traipsing up the candy-cane lined walk to the big green chair where Santa sits. His eyes already on you, he pats his lap, tongue peeking out between his lips.

Derek follows after, but is stopped by one of the elves, who tells him he has to pay in advance for a photo.

"And what's your name?" Santa murmurs, discreetly adjusting himself as you seat yourself on his lap. "Does it matter?" you ask, subtly lifting the back of your skirt as he pulls his thick hard cock. "Guess not," he chuckles low and deep, then hisses as your slick tight cunt envelops him.

"My fucking god," he says lowly, doing all he can to keep from thrusting up into you as your boyfriend comes up, all smiles as he watches you get cozy with Santa. He makes as if to sit on Santa's other thigh. "Not you," Santa grunts, his hands on your waist as you clench and throb around him. Derek holds a smile and stands to the side opposite you.

This, this is what you needed. His cock isn't even all the way in, the way you pulse around him pushes him out a little until his hands grab your waist, as if to pose you for the camera, and pushes you down, bottoming out within your sopping wet cunt.

"Gonna leave a mess on me," he murmurs. "Already got my lap soaked. And the suit's a fuckin' rental."

His breath smells like cigarettes and cheap booze and it's only making you want him more. "Fuck, I needed this.."

"You been a good girl this year?"

"Not at all."

He leans in and whispers: "Good girls get presents. Bad girls like you get to sit on Santa's fat cock." He shifts his lap up a little, jutting up into you and you bite your lip to barely suppress a moan.

Your picture is being taken with Santa but you could give a shit. Cockwarming him while he's whispering filth in your ear is the most fun you've ever had.

"Does baby girl want a candy cane?" he asks when it's time for you to go. Derek goes to pay, leaving you alone with Santa again. "We have some more in the elf cottage, You gonna come get one? Gotta earn it first.." His gloved finger traces your arm. "C'mon, ditch the wanker."

The elf cottage is a sparse room for the Santa's Wonderland employees to take their breaks, and right now it's filled with the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, your moans muffled by the fluffy red hat he put there to quiet you as he bends you over the folding table and rams his holly jolly dick into your stretched needy cunt.

"That's it, baby, fuckin' take it. Let Santa stuff your tight lil' stocking," he grunts.

You moan around the red fluff of his hastily discarded hat, throat burning with all your pent-up screams. Christ, you've never had anyone so disgusting, so eager, so perfect to satisfy this itch that you've been unable to scratch yourself.

And lord, his cock is the most filling thing you'll ever have. You already know he's going to leave you gaping for the next few days.

He watches the ripples of your ass as you throw it back on him, taking his entire fucking shaft so that with each thrust his balls thwack against your inner thighs. "Tight and wet.. lil' bitch in heat, ain't ya?" he teases, circling his hips so you feel him against every square inch of your aching snatch. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, finally spitting out the stupid hat.

"Fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa," you chant in broken moans, pushing your hips back, demanding it hard and fast, which he gives even as you come, clamping down all around him in a vise grip.

"Jesus," he growls, pulling out and kneeling behind you. He purses his lips to your dripping cunt, wiggling his tongue against your folds before licking a wide stripe upwards, teasing your asshole with his tongue. You practically shove your ass against his face, his gloved hands spreading your cheeks to get better access.

Grabbing a candy cane from a basket on the table you unwrap it with your teeth and hand it to him. It's thick and hard, and Santa knows just what to do with it. Feasting on both your holes, he takes the candy cane and watches it disappear into your glistening pussy. Hearing your gasp encourages him to keep going, fucking you as his tongue keeps rimming your ass, delving into tease you.

There's a knocking at the makeshift cottage door, then a moment of silence and a "God damn it, Joel, not again!" from the other side. "Fucker's always doing something," the person, most likely one of the elves at the cash register, mumbles and walks off.

He's back inside you, sliding the candy cane between your lips, moving it in and out just as he moves in and out, keeping you spread open so he fill you with every inch. "Babygirl likes havin' somethin' to suck on, don't she?" he mutters, pumping steadily into you. "Gotta be a good girl and tell me where ya want it."

"Inside me," you beg, and he moves double time, hands on your shoulders as he ruts up against you, slamming every inch until you cry out again, knees buckling as you come hard and Santa Joel follows soon after, his jizz painting your insides in warm sticky ropes.

"Lick me clean, baby," he murmurs, and you immediately go to your knees, taking him deep into your mouth, your jaw aching as the tip of him hits the back of your throat. When you gag he keeps you there, your mouth filling with saliva until it spills out from your lips, mixed with his cum. You bob your head on his length, eyes watering as you look up at him, your cunt still throbbing as you start to leak him on the floor.

"Fuuuuck yes," he growls, hand on your head, teeth sinking into his lower lip as you suck him off, and it's a Christmas miracle he's hard again, and he's about to come. He holds your head still and facefucks you, your hands cupping his ass to stop him from going too shallow-- you need to be deepthroated for once in your life.

Santa Joel lets out another curse as he uses you to come, spurting his Christmas magic down your throat. "There's a good girl. Babygirl's thirsty for what Santa's got, huh?" he teases as you greedily swallow every bitter, salty drop.

Clothes are straightened before you leave the little elf cottage, but the look of satisfaction is plain on your face as you suck on the candy cane that you'd been fucked with only moments before. Santa Joel puts his hat back on his head and shuffles over to the helper elves. "I'm goin' out for another smoke break," he tells them.

The head elf puts her hands on her hips. "Joel, you're not allowed to take ten smoke breaks an hour!" But by then he's already on the way out, both middle fingers in the air to salute her.

Derek joins you, looking puzzled as he studies the holiday photo -- there's something off about the face you're making in it. "Did Santa give you that candy cane?"

Grinning, you slurp up the sweet peppermint that still has traces of your own flavor on it. "And then some."

dividers by @saradika 👑

Tagging those who showed interest: @clawdee @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @myownwholewildworld

@penascigarette @hoelaris

[alanisinstone]

okay bluecollar!rafe but yall. can we make it MARINE!RAFE?? or more specifically MARSOC!rafe* who works for ward at cameron construction co. on leave?? like hello i need him bad guys.

cw: MDNI smut, cursing, stuff in public, food play, cum eating, military stuff, ass play, manhandling, 1 mention of fighting, recording

*marsoc: Marine Forces Special Operations Command - basically what COD men do

like he starts off as a standard private officer after enlisting when you guys graduate high school. he works his way up from private to corporal to sergeant major, and then eventually to captain, colonel, then general. i mean hes fucking unstoppable, hes blowing thru these ranks like nobodys fuckin business, and he not stopping anytime soon baby he in his primeeee.

he moves on to MARSOC and leads a small team on SPEC-OP missions in like borneo. hes literally the best of the best. his full file is like 4 pounds, full of successful recon missions, confirmed kills, successful captures of enemy targets, accurate tracking efforts, successful counterterrorism efforts, successful hostage rescue and successful direct action raids. when theres a REAL threat? they call LT Cameron. callsign? RAIDER

NOW. when baby comes home on leave he works at the family construction company ward owns, building giant beach houses for rich kooks. he eventually inherits cameron construction when ward gets too old to work and he helps ward retire bcs of the cash from being the most elite soldier in the US military. bae is tannnn bcs of construction work ofc, but also since being in the military he likes to go on runs and be in nature to clear his head. and yall alr know hes yatteddddd, both sleeves done by his boy at home on the cut, who happens to be a very talented tattoo artist (barry...)

strictly keeps a buzz for deployment but will grow out a mullet when hes home. signature gold chain is always on, and has a tat on his ring finger for you and maybe one on his forearm. does he have both ears pierced with fake diamond studs in? yes.

is currently in the blueprint stage for a beach house he wants to build you on figure 8 (and one in florida... and will probably start planning another one if he ends up having a long ship-out next deployment) even tho he despises rich fucks and is suchhhh a country boy. i mean hes like pogue!rafe but hes more of a mudding, dirt biking, bonfire, shotgunning beer, lifted truck, bar hop, football game kind of guy. and the most elite soldier in the US military ofc.

takes you on stargazing dates and fucks you in the truck bed, a big beach towel set down and his head in your neck while he ruts into you short and fast. occasionally gets into bar fights when some dick is tryna say sum to u. is such an ass man and will smack and grope that shit wheneverrrr whereverrrr - has zoned out of convos with people while feelin HIS booty up + loves to grip your pussy with his big ass paw when no one is looking.

has a super firm grip due to years of being a marine and WILL manhandle ur ass around - into various positions, onto the bed or couch or counter or etc., up over his shoulder when you gettin on his nerves. gets actually animalistic when yall fuckin, and yk that boy a munch. growls and grunts sooo loud the whole time.

will take you to the dock and fuck you on the family fishing boat. will christen any new bar yall go to by fucking you in the gross bathroom and carving both your initials in the wall with his pocket knife that ward gave him when he was 15. is kinky af but lets u bring it up bcs he feels awkward talking about it. is sooooo nasty - will eat his cum out of you with his whole mouth, eyes locked on yours, sucking your lips into his mouth. then, when it’s not enough, he drags you up to sit on his face and rubs your clit, watching you clench and letting his cum drip from you right onto his tongue.

will stick a thumb in your ass during doggy, while reaching for his phone bcs the way u throwin that ass back on him? yall bout to make another movie. loves watching you clean him up after round 5, when his dick is covered in his and your cum - will not let you miss a spot, even where it dripped down over his hefty balls to his ass. and he rarely shaves - uncut.

if it’s a hot day, he’ll turn the ac off and find you so he can lick the sweat off every crevice of your beautiful body while he’s fucking you over the counter. both of you completely butt naked bcs it’s hot. has a sweet tooth - will interrupt you while you’re baking and strip you, laying you on the counter like the dessert you are and eating the frosting off his favorite parts. get especially excited when it comes to sweets on your nipples.

honestly if that aint a FEASTTTT i dont know what issss

[maxlarens]

53) holding the other’s jaw + logan

this is to make up for what i wrote last night viv hope u like ittt 😋🫢😌 @coff33andb00ks

You meet Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant in a dive bar in Austin, Texas and you don’t know if you have the heart to tell him that you’re in Austin specifically for the Grand Prix.

It’s cute that he assumes you don’t recognise him, it’s even cuter that he tells you he drives race cars and then assumes you still don’t know he’s an F1 driver. It’s a little sad maybe— especially when Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan are sitting in a booth across the room, trying and failing to take surreptitious glances at the two of you. But you’re trying not to think about that, probably as much as Logan also is right now.

You’re leaning with your back up against the bar drinking a vodka whatever, he’s standing in front of you. Ostensibly in line to get a drink, but he hasn’t stopped talking to you since you almost bowled him over trying to get back to your friends. There’s no drink in his hand that’s for sure, just an empty beer glass that he’s bringing back. You think that’s unbearably sweet— well, no, actually you think that’s hot.

You’re not the kind of person who’s into Formula One for the drivers. You’re into it because instead of watching football games like every other all-American family did, your dad used to sit in front of the TV every weekend to watch twenty men drive around a track. You’d grown up on the sport; the roar of the cars before they hybridised them, old-school turn names, fiery crashes ending in tragedy, the blood sweat and tears of teammate rivalry. Your dad complains that the sport has changed too much— but still he puts the races on every weekend.

You try to watch the sport for the cars, for the racing, but at the end of the day, you’re not immune to a cute guy. You follow most of them on Instagram (except the drivers you hate), find yourself smiling at promo videos and liking pictures that have nothing to do with the sport. Your dad is annoying about it, but you don’t care.

You especially don’t care when Logan Sargeant is smiling something crooked at you as he tells you he’s here with his friends. You nod, looking where he’s pointing, where you’ve already seen Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan, you laugh a little, giggle really, and you lean toward him.

Deliberately.

“Yeah,” you take a sip through your straw, maintaining eye contact, “I know who you are, Logan.”

He goes red immediately. Pale cheeks turning a very pleasant colour. You lick your lips, lean back against the bar. He blinks his sparkling wet eyes at you, mouth gaping like a fish out of water for a moment before he snaps it shut and scrubs a hand across his stubbly beard.

“Oh— I—”

You wave his shock off, barrelling on to avoid anything awkward for him, “Sorry, should’ve told you.”

“No,” he shakes his head, apparently desperate to make it fine, to make it okay, “You’re good. I just— I didn’t expect someone so—”

He trails off, trying to start the sentence again. But you’re intrigued, very intrigued.

You cut him off, not rude, just insistent, leaning forward into his space, “What was that? Finish your sentence.”

His eyebrows go up in a flash. The blush on his cheeks grows a little more prominent. He’s biting down a little on a smile, on something.

“I—”, he flounders for words for a minute, you give him that minute in silence but you’re staring at him, a little fiery, a little intense, “I didn’t expect someone so,” he stops, whines something a little desperate, quiet enough that you’re not supposed to hear it, “cute, I guess. To know who I was.”

“You guess?”

He nods, slowly. Getting braver as he leans past you, deliberately getting in your space to put his empty glass on the bar behind you. You’re trying not to smile, you’re biting down on the inside of your lip so the biggest grin you’ve probably ever grinned can’t split across your face.

“Yeah, I guess.”

This is how you end up in a dark corner booth with Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant. This is how you end up making out with Formula One driver Logan Sargeant. You’re halfway in his lap, your legs a weird tangle as you try to fit yourselves into the space. But you’re hardly thinking about his knee digging into you or how you’re slipping off the seat every five seconds because Logan’s got a hand buried deep in your hair and another on your waist. His hand splayed against your back, a few fingers touching the bare skin at your hip.

He tastes like beer and ketchup and he kisses you like he’s starving. It’s slow, it’s deliberate but the slip of tongue and the way your mouths slide against each other is intoxicating. Makes your head feel fuzzy.

You’ve got a hand on the side of his jaw, the crook of your thumb hooked on his ear, fingertips pressing into his neck, the base of his skull. He tries to pull away from you— ostensibly to breathe, to say something. But you’re a little desperate, chasing his mouth and bringing your other hand up to his jaw to drag him back.

You feel him laugh a little into your mouth.

“What?”, you mutter, eyes closed, still kissing him, "Finish your sentence."

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, you feel his mouth move against yours as he speaks, hot breath fanning across your jaw, “Just. Do you maybe wanna get out of here?”

And this is how you end up in Formula One driver Logan Sargeant’s hotel room.

this is probably the most bordering on nsfw content that i will venture to in my writing just a heads up for people:)

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Fever (Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac Choso x f!Reader)

SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

8k words. A curse with a strange and intimate defense mechanism has done something to Choso, with Shoko busy with more pressing matters, his healing becomes your soul responsibility. And like any good, young doctor, you're willing to do anything to help your patient. ao3

not, not made while listening to Disease by Lady Gaga.

Warnings: (This is a SEX POLLEN fic, which always carries a degree of dubious consent, I feel I have clarified a lot of of the grey-er areas, but if that is not your thing, this is your heads up, see you in the next one <3.) Sex, premature ejaculation, kissing, oral (f receiving), probably a lot of really dumb sounding attempts at medical jargon, smoking, discussions of ovulations/menstruating, Virginity loss (choso), BLOOD, some scent stuff, feelings and some stuff about conception. Choso is pretty pathetic, but i feel like you probably knew that.

When you woke up this morning, you could feel it. That dull, barely there ache in your lower back, telling you that your cycle was nearing. You weren’t the best at manually tracking your cycle but you had enough lived experience menstruating that you knew the sign posts. Brushing your hair and washing your face, you found your skin was smooth, any dullness you would have usually fussed over seemed to have righted themselves and been replaced with a bouncy, full glow.

When dressing, you found your breasts felt fuller, filling out the cups of your bra, almost to the point of spilling. They felt heavy, the lace pressing against your nipples for a sweet sting. Your hands stayed holding your breasts, tracing your areolas softly, sucking in a sensitive breath. A glance at the clock tells you there's no time for you to rub one out before you have to leave for work. But you feel a tingle of excitement knowing you’ll come home to your vibrator and whatever naughty media you can get your hand on. There’s supposed to be a new sexy, vampire show your friends hushedly told you about. Maybe tonight? You have a bottle of red you've been waiting to open, why the hell not! Some wine, maybe a long bath….your eyes travel to a candle on your nightstand. You can light candles for your own masturbation, right? Wow, you’re quite the romantic. 

The excitement of your evening of solo pleasure carries you through the rest of your morning routine. You pour yourself a coffee, you make sure to grab an umbrella, the forecast predicting rain for the next few days, and double back to plug in your favorite vibrator(s) before heading out. As expected, it's already drizzling, light grey clouds spilling their contents all over the city streets. The cool fall air wets your face, but you don't mind. You had gotten yourself a bit worked up inside, so it was nice to have something to bring you back down to reality. You still had a full work day ahead of you. Your walk to work was quick, a subway ride even quicker, the manager that met you with a car to carry you the rest of the way to Jujutsu Tech was punctual and polite. She was pretty new, a young woman, probably not even 25, but she was a great driver, and made a few jokes here and there that made the usually long drive feel clipped. Arriving at the school, you were quick to thank her and head inside. She was cute, you found yourself thinking as you turned away from the car. 

Young and funny, a sweet face, a good body, how old did she say she was again? 

Oh geez, whats going on with me? 

You shake the inappropriate thoughts from your head, and mark the doorframe as your own compartmentalization threshold. Within these walls you must remain an absolutely iron clad professional.There can be no mistaking it, no distractions, and no anticipation. Students pass quickly to their classes or from the breakfast lines, some wave or bow in greeting at your pass. You're quick to return their gestures. You make your ways down to the hospital floors, making a quick stop by the lounge to refill your coffee. The school grounds took on many purposes, education, training, treatment, triage, conference, protection, archival, morgue…etc. Your business primarily took place on the lowest levels, being the medical wing, the labs, and the morgue. You never had the chops to go into the field after your graduation from Jujutsu High School. Opting instead to apprentice under Shoko Ieri, the reverse cursed technique wunderkind, just two grade levels higher than you. The absolute chance of a lifetime. She was a terrible teacher, truly awful. Too genius to make her lessons practical. But thankfully you weren’t some talentless schmuck, you could hold your own against genius. You learned fast, were excellent with your hands, and eventually Shoko brought you in full time as her second in command. If she was the head of surgery, you were the school nurse. Where she was tasked with reviving fallen sorcerers and performing bizarre autopsies, you mostly reset broken fingers and administered stitches. 

This last year had not been kind to your practice. Far too many familiar faces meeting you in the chilly, sterile basement morgue. Shoko was taking on more and more…experimental (?)  projects. Ones with more weight, more stakes. Especially now. Which meant you held things down more and more. But once you reached the stainless steel double doors leading to the main hall of the medical wing, you knew she was here. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and the lilac perfume she swears covers it. The first exam room light was on, the door cracked, white light seemingly unbroken between the hallway and door frame. The light never changed down here, it was as steady as the tile, and just as cold. 

“Shoko?” You peeked around the cracked door. 

She was prepping the room; someone was coming in. Her words spilled immediately as though they had never had a beginning, she had simply always been talking. 

“Big one coming in. Associate Manager just called, they’re on their way back. Apparently it’s nothing broken or bleeding, but they couldn’t explain any more than that. Go figure.”

The possible orders of procedure began listing themselves in your brain. Shoko exited the room and you followed closely, her heels and yours clacking together in perfect time. 

“Choso, the half curse from Shibuya. Apparently something hit him, or bit him?” Shoko wasn’t often without the right information so her irritation was growing at every reminder, “whatever, we have his blood samples and the remaining curse womb death paintings, if—god forbid— anything serious needs to happen.” 

Viles clinked against one another as her gloved hand searched the refrigerated cabinet of samples taken from each sorcerer. You wondered whose blood was next to yours in there. 

“Can’t you just…fwoo?” You tried to imitate her stupid circle gesture she always made when trying, unsuccessfully, to get you to master reverse cursed technique. 

Shoko turned to face you, “well that’s just it, I won’t be here. I have to get back underground before anything changes. This is your pop quiz, okay?” 

Finally, the intensity dawns on you. You truly had no way to know what would be coming through those doors. A half second later, it dawns on you that none of the supplies she has been gathering are even for you! Every second you spoke was another second you lost to prepare, valuable seconds. 

“Oh shit.” You mumbled, quickly turning back to the labs, scanning your brain for relevant material to gather. Allergy lists, blood, most recent labs, gauze?? 

“I see you get it now, try and be a little faster if the guy’s dying, okay?” A cigarette has manifested between her lips as she heads down the hallway you had only just entered, “call me afterward and update. Bye!” 

And just like that she was gone, the doors swinging shut behind her, but you don’t see them zip up their seam. You are already turned away and heading back into the lab. Pulling anything potentially useful: pain relievers, antibacterial salves and ointments, gauze, anything you could think of. You didn’t know Choso all that well, but knowing sorcerers was a mixed bag anyway. It often felt the ones you did know, were the ones you lost. But he had been in and out plenty of times in the last month, rounds and rounds of testing with Shoko, with assistance by you. He was quiet, kind of emotional, but a great help to your cause. Not to mention he had been quite the looker. Dark, gloomy eyes, excellent bone structure, a body that looked carved in marble. You quickly chastised your body for wasting valuable seconds even thinking about anything except preparing to help save his life. 

 His strange position as both a half curse and a turn coat made him even harder to anticipate. His blood wouldn’t likely be the problem, as it is nearly entirely regenerative. How would that work for infection? Before you can wonder too much, the subject of your mystery arrives with his smaller, too grizzled looking younger brother in toe.

“I don’t know what happened! I’m really sorry, he looks like he’s going to faint. But he walked all the way here. He won’t let me touch him.” 

There was blood, but only streaming from the amorphous block shaped marking across his face. It was hard to tell what shape it had taken on, his face was so flushed. He was panting, the glowing blood spilling into the floor, seeping into this clothes, onto Yuji’s shoes. 

“It’s okay, Itadori. Did he get hit with something or by someone?” You kind of sheep dogged Choso towards the exam table with Yuji’s help, finally getting him to lie down, which caused him to ground and sit back up. 

“This big weird curse squirted some goo or some gas or something on him, but it looks like it sank in, I can’t see where it even hit him. Its was like POOF! And then like nothing! And then…” Yuji’s voice was high and shaking, he sounded every bit the child he was, it was easy to forget both how young he was, and how novice he was to the world of jujutsu. 

Choso groaned again, shifting uncomfortably, rolling onto him back and then his side. You watched the concern wash over his younger brother’s face all over again, big brown eyes unable to look away from his ailing brother. You placed a hand on the top of Yuji’s back. 

“Are you hurt at all?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You did a great job getting him here, Itadori. He’s in good hands, I promise you I’ll do my best to get him right as rain, okay?”

You weren’t completely sure, mystery curse-related ailments were more Shoko’s jurisdiction, but if she trusted you, then you must be more than capable!

“You should head back upstairs, get some rest. I’ll have someone bring you when he’s ready for visitors again, okay?” You have an easy, warm smile, hoping to soothe his anxieties. 

Whether it worked or not, you couldn’t tell. But Itadori nodded, and giving one last look to Choso, turned to head back upstairs. Looking back down at the writhing man on your exam table you weren’t sure how to start, it seemed like every muscle in his body was tensed. He had to relax before you could begin any kind of testing. He was too flushed, his blood pressure, even for him, must be skyrocketing. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Choso, do you know where you are, can you hear me?” 

He nods wearily, not uncurling from his core. 

“Choso, do you think you can sit up, for me?” You attempted, bringing your hands close to his back. 

“Don’t touch me!” He barks, heavy pants follow. He rolls completely onto his side away from you, groaning. You can see  the line of sweat drenching the back of his shirt, “I’m sorry, but-- please, please don’t touch me.” 

“Okay, can you try and sit up?  I have to assess you so we can figure out how to make it stop.”you urged.   

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t start to move, he stays still, fully tensed, desperate pants through gritted teeth. You watch the sweat bead up at the back of his neck, those beads begin to fall and merge together, falling under the collar of his shirt. You moved away from him, getting an instant ice pack from the refrigerator, breaking it, and feeling the cold spread across your hands. Returning to his back, you wrap the cold pack in a thin towel, taking in a breath. 

“Don’t.” He gasps out, “please, just hand it to me.” 

You were shocked he was still so aware of his surroundings. Against your wishes you passed him the cold pack, his hand snatches it from you without making any contact with you. You can barely see his face, but you see the muscle in his jaw pop as he pressed the cold pack to his forehead. 

“What are you feeling, Choso? I can't stop it if I don’t know.” You don’t mean to sound so irritated when you say it, you aren’t irritated, you’re worried. 

“Hot. Really hot.” He sighs, moving the cold pack to the side of his neck. 

“Okay, and did it start right after you made contact?”

“What?” 

“Yuji said a curse attacked you, it had some kind of defensive response, and it put you into this state? Do you have any idea what kind of curse it may have been?” You were gaining your confidence back, steeling yourself against the immediate shock that had set in since his arrival. You were a doctor for fuck’s sake. 

Choso nodded his head, “yes. Maybe? I don’t know, I blacked out. It was out of it for a few seconds and then Yuji was shaking me.” His breathing was starting to even out, maybe he was calming back down. 

“Okay, and that’s when the fever started?” You couldn’t yet place what the cause of the fever would be. Some kind of poison? Or venom? 

Choso nodded, another groan, pulling him further, prone on the table. He seemed to hate this position, choking out a gasp as he pushed himself up and sat up facing away from you.

“Choso if you’ll just let me take your vitals and a blood test I can probab—-“ you reached out and touched his shoulder. 

His body shivered, he let out a long, low moan. 

He didn’t have to tell you to not touch him, you pulled your hand back so fast you lamented your reflexes had never been so sharp and would never be again. 

He was frozen, you were frozen. You came back to yourself first. 

“I’m sorry, I know you sa—.” You started to panic ramble 

“You should go. Please go.” Choso’s hands gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went from tan to pink to white.   

This was too much, he needed help now, the cold pack had melted completely, faster than you had ever seen, no longer offering its menial relief.

“Choso, I’m your doctor, I can’t leave you. It’s my duty to help you. Please just be honest with me about what you’re feeling, and I can help. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help.” You began to curve around the table to face him. 

His neck was red and wet, muscles straining underneath like angry snakes. He can’t meet your eyes, his mouth is open, panting to pull as much breath as possible, lips wet and drooly. You're too busy scanning his face to see the way he covers his lap with his hands as you approach. 

“Please, let me help.” You reach your hand out to touch him, even with your gloves on and inches away you can feel the heat radiating off his body. 

Finally, finally, he looks at you, urging his body upward into a sitting position. His pupils are huge, brown irises having been consumed by two large, desperate black holes. There are tears in his eyes, dripping into the blood on the bottom half of his face. 

“It hurts. It’s so hot, and everything is so tight and sensitive. I can feel…everything, so much, fuck, it hurts.” He pleads, finally crumbling under the agony. 

You nod and start to mentally run through treatments for the symptoms as he lays them out. Your main concern is his heart, it’s used to overproducing and pumping at will, but this isn’t at his will, and this isn’t in his routine. This is entirely unpredictable. You’re in your head when Choso stops talking, he watches you closely, the drool along his bottom lip starting to build into a drip. He watches you, as you think a million miles away from him, but so close. He isn't sure if you have ever been this close, you have checked in on him hundreds of times, helped him through his training, you have always been so kind to him, even with his…less than glowing personal history, brief as it was. He can smell your perfume, he had smelled it before, soft and light, but this was something different. It smelled so much stronger, sweet and full, enticing, hypnotic. 

“You smell different.” The words leave him before he can even think better of himself, and once he does the words can't stop, “Good. You smell good. Really good.”

He leans closer to you, pulled in by the smell coming from your neck. You don't stop when he comes closer, he doesn’t stop himself when he presses his nose against your neck and inhales. Your body goes completely taut, you can feel the tip of his nose on your neck, you aren’t sure what to do.

“C-choso?” 

One of his big hands moves your hair off your shoulder, then settles on your waist, he pulls you closer, inhaling at your neck again. His other hand finds your hip and pulls you in. 

“You smell so sweet.” he mumbles into your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin, “You feel so good.”

The blood from his face was slowing, the mark shaping itself back into a smaller line, you could feel his pulse slowing. The back of your mind flickered alive, a sneaking thought, something you had never imagined to be true, or to be presenting itself now. A defensive countermeasure some high ranking curses employ in order to redirect the attackers focus. Preying upon the most carnal needs, most commonly manifesting itself as prolonged, continuous sensitivity and sexual arousal. You had only ever read about it in the abstract, you never imagined it was something that was still active, let alone could manifest this intensely. Choso’s hands tighten on your hips. Your throat starts to tighten, you are paralyzed as to what to do, the ethics of helping and not helping racing through your mind.  

You press his shoulder, “Choso. Just a second, you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

He pulls back, suddenly, eyes wide with surprise, unsure of how he had found himself buried in your shoulder, how he had let himself succumb to whims that plagued his mind. He felt his throat closing, his heart racing, the heat in his body rising again faster than before. He felt pathetic, like some animal, some curse, that can’t control himself. And to you, who had been nothing but kind and accommodating with him since he first joined. He stands suddenly, putting as much distance between your bodies as he can. From your smell, from the feeling of your skin, from your soft hair between his fingers. 

“I-I’m, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, go.” He heaves out, “I don’t know if I can control myself.” 

“What you're experiencing is an apex aphrodisiac. It won’t end until it has been expelled from your body, which will probably happen over time. But I have no way of knowing how long the effects will last. It could be hours, Choso, days, even.” 

Some deep ache in his abdomen causes him to double, gripping against the counter top so hard you hear the laminate begin to split. 

“I can hook you up to an IV, keep you hydrated and locked in here until it passes, but there’s no guarantee you can last it. Your internal body temperature keeps rising, and without someone here to keep an eye on you, there’s no telling what that fever will do to your brain. Not to mention your heart.” 

He fights your eyes, glaring instead at his hands in front of him, hands that had been attached to you so recently. Hands that burned against any sensation that wasn’t you. He’s swelling between his legs again, it aches, it's hurting, it's dripping onto his leg. He could hear his molars creaking against one another as he grinds them in a desperate attempt for restraint. You approach so carefully, he doesn't notice you until you're close enough for him to smell that intoxicating aura again. His eyes flutter closed, relief beginning to spread through his body, strained muscles loosening just barely. 

“Or…” You stride forward so carefully, not wanting to scare the desperate, hurt animal caught in a trap in front of you, you see his shoulders slide down his back through the damp fabric of his shirt, “I can help you now.”

Choso’s head whips around so fast that the room spins. He worries that this fever may actually be cooking his brain. Surely there was no way you were actually proposing this, he had to be hallucinating. The arousal plaguing his body had finally taken over his mind and shifted  his reality to fit its sick fantasy.  

You nod at his shocked face, trying to stay as even and professional under the circumstances; God, as if there were any chance of that happening. 

“Choso, listen to me, from what I’ve read, the quickest way, and the only guaranteed way to find any kind of repose, is to…” You blush at your words, the impending reality starting to illuminate far too realistically to be called fantasy, “oh god, I don’t know how to say this. By briefly…succumbing… to the urges, it could rid your body of whatever lingering material is causing you to feel this way, or at least offer some alleviation while your body fights the infection. Like scratching an itch? You shouldn't, cause you may open the wound, but it helps you deal with the pain and discomfort.” 

A thousand thoughts pass between the two of you, nothing spoken. He studies you carefully, desperate for any sign of a practical joke, some ill timed faux solution at his expense. Part of him looked twice as desperately for any sign of attraction from you, something that would show him you have felt the same way as him. That you have wanted this, before it became…medically necessary. 

“You think having sex with you will make it stop?” He says bluntly. 

You blush furiously, feeling embarrassed for even saying it, “It may. But of course, it’s up to you. If you want the IV, we can wait it out, you don't have to decide now. If it’s…me I can-” 

“No!” He shakes his head furiously, “no, it’s not you. I mean it is! Fuck, I mean…”

He can barely think, let alone try and string together the way he feels and has felt. The feelings that he never dared to explore. 

“I didn’t want it like this.” He finally sighs out, resigning himself to a seated position on the floor. 

“You…?” You didn't get it yet. 

“I wanted this, you, but I never wanted it like this.” He presses his back hard against the wall, eyes pulled tight together, blood trickling onto the floor again. 

You got it then. You hadn’t known, never even thought that he would look at you like that, that he would hold feelings for you so privately. He had been so quiet, so brief, so polite. Your heart ached for him, he was so sweet, you had always thought so. Even as brief as his time here had been, you thought it was sweet how dedicated he seemed to fixing his mistakes, to training Yuji, to helping the cause. It had crossed your mind, recently even, how handsome he was. Seeing him in this state, entertaining the idea of fucking him, you found you were heating up, yourself. Your legs squeezing together as he lay before you, so desperate for you. 

“I know it's not what you imagined, but I’d really like to help you.” You join him on the floor, looking up at him from under your dark lashes. 

You lean closer to him, he can smell you again, he can see your lips part, he clears his throat “I don’t just want to scratch the itch.”   

You shake your head, “Then let me help you, let me get it out of you. Choso, please.” 

You lean closer to him, you want to help him. The ache between his legs is getting too much to bear, he is too hot, his clothes are too tight, your smell is overwhelming him. Or maybe that's the fever, maybe he’s losing his mind. He scans your face, it's so beautiful. You are the only person he would want to help him. Maybe this was preordained, it was fate that brought him in here to you, so you could help him. So he could finally be with you, if only for a moment. If only once. 

“Okay.” He nods, one of his hands gripping the back of your neck and pulling you in to meet his lips. 

He can’t help himself, he kisses you with every ounce of himself. Every moment of his century in stasis, every ounce of remorse for the people he has killed, every sleepless night ruminating on his place in this world that barely half of him even belongs in. Your lips on his feel electric, sending the synapses in his brain into overdrive. His tongue wiggles past your parted lips, tasting his first of a mouth besides his own. He moans unabashedly at the taste of you.

It's only then that you even think of him being inexperienced, potentially even a virgin. But the time to discuss that has passed, you can barely get air, let alone a moment to talk. His hands are quick to find your bare skin under your shirt. You feel him trembling, his hands shaking as he kneads the flesh of your sides. The taste of him floods your mouth, copper twinged from the blood on his face, but making your lips and tongue tingle with excitement. His hand finds your bra, taking your right breast into his hand and squeezing hard. You cry out, remembering your hypersensitivity due to your own hormone filled body. He pulls off to look at you, heavy blush in his face, spit connecting your lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you swallow, “I--”

“You’re ovulating.” He finished for you. 

“How di--” 

“You smell different.” He leans into your neck again, inhaling deeply from your pulse point, “I can smell how bad you need this. Just as bad as me. Your body is begging for me.” 

It was like a switch had flipped, the gentle, polite, shy man who had stumbled in was gone. Choso’s teeth found your neck, just scratching before he licks a long stripe from the crook of your shoulder to behind your ear, he squeezes your breast again, just as hard, making you keen back, pressing further into his hand. He decides he has had enough on the floor. He scoops one hand around your back and pulls you up with him, laying you down on the exam table before him. In a flash his shirt is gone, and you are slower to follow. But you remove your coat and your top, leaving you in your bra. Choso attaches himself to your neck against, biting, kissing, sucking, licking, anything he can. One hand holds himself up above you, towering over you more like, the other tugs at the button of your pants. 

“Have you done this before?” He asks you, just as he gets them open. 

You nod, feeling his hair soft against your face.  

He hums, “You’ll have to show me what you like. I promise to do my best. I’m a fast learner.” 

Your heart nearly bursts at the thoughtfulness, “This is about you, Choso. Let me.”

You finally touch him back, moving your hands over his torso, feeling the muscles straining, the heat from him spreading to you. You sit up, slotting your mouths together again, desperate for his kiss and grab for the tie of his pants. He hisses as the fabric brushes past his throbbing, blisteringly hot erection. Finally you undo the knot and his pants are quick to fall to the floor, leaving him naked over you. His tongue moves across yours, massaging, tasting, combining flavors with you. Your hand blindly finds his cock, you take it into your hand and Choso howls, separating your lips. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes screwed up tight. You look between your bodies, to where you're holding him between your still clothed legs, just in time to see the last spurts of cum spill from him, and onto the table. You can't help feeling a little disappointed, having gotten worked up yourself, only to have it end before he ever entered you. But you’re quick to push it away, this isn't personal, it was to help him. Choso catches his breath above you, before looking down to meet your eyes. 

“Do you feel better?” You ask, but you aren't able to finish before he kisses you again, his previous passion now turned up to eleven, his mouth is hotter, he pushes his tongue deeper, his teeth clash against yours, his hand returns to your waistline as he moves to keep undressing you. 

His cock in your hand hasnt retreated, if anything it seems completely unchanged, still raging and red tipped. 

“Choso…?” You whimper against his hungry lips. 

“Please, I need more. Please.”He sounds desperate, almost as if he is begging you

You nod and help him out of your pants, uncaring as they slide though the cum and onto the floor below you. Your heels clatter to the floor as Choso scoops you cup and lays you on your back, folding your legs up. 

“Fuck you’re perfect. I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea.” His voice is low enough he could be talking to himself, were it not for him looking directly at your panties, wet and clinging to your swollen lips, “You’re so wet already. You’re so nice for helping me. Thank you.” 

He slides one thick finger along the part of your lips, still shrink wrapped to the soaked cotton, you bite your lip. The mark on his nose has shifted again, back to the black bar you had grown familiar with, just barely beading up at the very edges. The blush on his face and neck has deepened, it seems his blood is redistributing properly again, aside from his cock, which has made no signs of softening. It still throbbed in your hand, which you kept in a steady, tentative rhythm as he explored you further. His finger slips inside the gusset of your panties, feeling the wetness first hand. 

“You’re so warm inside,” He marvels, again, likely to himself. 

He had come across pornography in the time since his awakening. In his journey to understand the urges of his body, and the innate knowledge that resided within the vessel he now inhabited, he had learned about sex, both for reproduction and for pleasure. He dabbled in masturbation, it was hard not to when discovering the body of oneself. He had watched plenty of movies in the brief instances of down time, many of which outlined the inner workings of sexual relationships on an emotional level. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you, writhing and wet beneath him. He explored your pussy further, the nub of your clitoris against the pad of his finger enough to rouse more cum from him, which lubricated your pumps along the shaft of his cock. It was brief, but the second orgasm made him crumple against your leg, pressed against this shoulder. 

This time you smiled, feeling his warm cum slid down your wrist, “Are you always like this?”

You watched him pant his way through the climax as you brought your messy hand to your mouth, licking it clean, and tasting him. He was sweet, how fitting. He watched you feed yourself his cum and nearly gave you more, drool slips from his mouth and down your leg. You feel it slide down your skin, still too far from your begging pussy, you wanted to feel him there, his mouth, his spit, his cock. The taste of him filled your mouth now, you looked over him carefully as he came back to himself. 

He shook his head, answering you, but looked down at you, meeting your eyes, “my blood goes where i want it, as long as i need it there. No waiting, but I don’t usually cum this much.” 

He was so crass suddenly, you felt your pussy clench, aching to be filled by him. Your body had heated so much, the lace of your bra digging in far too tight, your panties now feeling restrictive. Your clit throbbing along with your racing hard, just barely having been brushed by him. You squirm, hoping that he sees how desperately you need him. And you need him, more than air, more than water, more than anything. The room becomes all there is in the universe, only for the two of you, complete privacy, a perfect oasis for him to fill you over and over and over until the end of time. And he was the perfect one for the job, to go endless rounds, no need for sleep or rest, no refractory periods. He could keep you full, used and full. 

It appeared that the curse’s effects were contagious. You would later speculate that when you ingested his cum, some fraction of the aphrodisiac entered and took host in your body as well. 

Surely that must be the case, what else could explain what you said next. 

“Cho, please, I want you to cum inside, please fill me up. I want it inside, Choso please! I need it, I need you. Please.” you begged, you could barely hear your own voice, but you could see the effect your pathetic keening had on him. 

He tore through your panties in a second, your bra was relieved of duty, likely permanently as he seemed to cut through it just by pulling. The exam table’s icy surface seemed to sizzle against your overheated skin, he moved both your thighs over his shoulders, hands under your buttcheeks, using his thumbs to hold you open for him as he licked a flat tongue over your vulva. You cry out, not caring if your screams travel through the basement floors and up to the populated floors. One lick from him has you cumming so hard your vision goes white. He doesn't stop. Kissing and slurping over and over, you're quivering and shaking, but he can’t stop. The taste of you is too much to give up, even for a second. So sweet, so uniquely you, so intimately for him to enjoy. At this point he holds you up by your hips, as though you are attached to his mouth, your legs wrap around his head, you can't do much else but try to breathe through the intense waves of pleasure that he continues to give you with every flick of his tongue. 

“Choso, please!” You finally cry out, “Please, I need you inside. It's too much, please, baby, I need you.” you pull at his hair, hard enough that you’re sure a weaker, more inhibited man would have wailed. 

But he flicks his eyes up at you pleadingly, not wanting to give you up yet. But seeing your desperate, tear stained face, he relents. He lays you back down, allowing you time to cum down as he wipes a hand over his wet face, using your cum to pump his still aching cock. He squeezes the base, trying not to look too closely, knowing he couldn't cum too soon…again. You gather yourself, pussy weeping onto the table below, but already aching for him again. 

“Lay down,” You tell him, moving onto your knees ungracefully. 

He obeys, laying where you just had been, helping you to move over his lap, settling you just above his standing cock. You keep one hand on his chest, the other grips him again and carefully aligns his tip with your gasping hole. You find his eyes again, as if now is the time to reconsider, but he meets them. He gives you a small nod through hazy eyes, his hair is sticking to his head and his neck, the top of his chest is blotchy and flushed, your wetness makes his chin and jaw shine under the light. He looks beautiful, how could you not have seen it sooner, how magnetic and enticing he was. 

“Please, I want to cum in you,” He begs, breaking you out of your admiration, “Please let me give you my cum, please. Please.” He squeezes your thighs, urging you down. 

You sink down slowly, the feeling of finally being connected, sending you both into fits of pleasure. You can’t stop your hips, as soon as they fall fully and meet his, you fuck yourself back down onto him, starting a pace riding him that would normally be laughably advantageous for you. You just cant stop yourself, the tip of his cock kisses your g spot perfectly, fucking even deeper into you than you thought possible, no vibrator or partner you’d had before had ever made you fee like this.The stretch hurt so good, as you moved over him again and again.  

Choso was just as bad, an absolute mess underneath you. He had no idea what he was in for. Your pussy was so much hotter and tighter than he imagined, it felt like his cock would break off, but he never wanted it to end. He could feel every hitch of your breath though the snug walls flush with his dick, he could feel your heart beating, he thought he could hear your blood moving through your body. He couldn't keep his mouth shut, whimpering, whining, gasping, begging you for … more, … or slower, …  or simply just please. 

please. please baby please. more. fuck. yes more. just like that. fuck. please please please please pleasepleaseplease. too fast, it's too much. too much. fuck. please. don’t stop. please please, don't ever stop.  

He watches you ride him, your breasts bouncing with every lift and drop of your hips. He pushes himself up with one hand, using his knees to move you with him. His shift into a seated position pushes him even deeper inside of you. You arch your back feeling him press against your cervix, whining and pulling him closer to you. He brings your breast to his mouth, biting, sucking, swirling his tongue around your nipple. You struggle to ride him like this, but you grind down on him regardless, the friction of his public hair against your clitrois combined with his work on your nipples, more than enough. You aren’t sure how you’ll ever be able to go without this feeling. You paw at his back and shoulder, wanting to keep him close forever. He coos in your ear something unintelligible about just relaxing and letting him take care of you. 

“You’re so good to me, baby. Let me take care of you. You want to be full, right? Let me fill you up. Thank you.” He coos, moving your hair off your neck and letting him return to his new favorite place, your neck. 

He carries on fucking into you, your clit grinding against his pelvis, his lips on your neck, his other hand holding your flush against his chest. You feel your eyes roll back, your kiss along his head, relishing the sound of him going back and forth between whining and praising you. Your skin is blooming, your thighs are shaking, you feel the swirl of building pressure in your abdomen. 

“Cho….” you whine. 

He carries on pumping his hips, grabbing at your ass, digging in his nails. 

“Me too,” He chokes out, bringing your lips to his as he fucks you both to your peaks. 

A vastly different type of orgasm descends upon you both. Profound and all encompassing. His mouth stays on your as long as he can stand it, leaving humid breaths on your lips before he pulls off moaning and tossing his head back. You feel fat tears roll down your cheeks, Choso buries himself as deep as he can into you, spilling shot after shot of cum into you, you feel him pulsing inside of you. He rakes his nails up your sides, sending you trembling. You whine out, Your body swirls and melts into his. He collapses the pair of you back onto the table, keeping himself sheathed inside of you, not allowing any of his cum to escape you.

 You pant on his chest, pressing your ear to where you can hear his heart beating, it's fast, but not nearly the frenzy it was when he first arrived. His big arms encircle you, your bodies feel warm and hot pressed together, but you can feel the chill of the basement air on the sweat of your back, you feel your own heart slowing as you catch your breath. Your own heart rate is steadying as well, at some point the surrounding area had come back into your view, he had stopped bleeding, and both of you felt the effects of the aphrodisiac leave you.  

Choso lies beneath you, feeling your weight against him, feeling your body tremble in his arms, his cock still feeling the quivering, fluttering walls around him, taking his cum, pulling it deeper inside. He was told early on that biological children weren't in the realm of possibility for him, but he already had his family; his brothers, and the ones they loved. But now, with you rested on top of him, he felt sad knowing despite the timing, and despite his efforts, he would never-- could never give you your own. He realized the curse’s effects had lifted, either from time or sweat or exertion they had been exorcised from his body, and with them went his sureness that this had been a good idea. 

“Choso?” You spoke softly, conspiratorially. 

He hummed in acknowledgment. 

“Do you feel better?” You raised your head to meet his eyes. 

He looked down at you, seeing your warm, kind eyes worrying about him. Surely this couldn’t have just been for today?  

Choso nodded, his dark eyes crinkling at the outer edges in a soft smile, “I think it’s over. My heart is still racing, but I don't think that's the curse anymore.” 

You leaned forward, feeling brave, and a bit anxious from how quiet it felt now that the screaming and moaning and panting had stopped. Connecting your lips again, now that the worst had passed you felt no need to hungirly attack his mouth, neither did he. You gave him the sort of kiss you would have given him if he came to you with his feelings and had taken you out. You weren’t the sort of people to be able to go out very often, but whatever date it may have been, wouldn’t have been as successful as this bizarrely unorthodox first encounter. When the kiss was over you tried to move off of him, but he held you down, pumping his softening dick into you once more. You let out a high shaky breath, almost giggling. 

“I meant it when I said I didn't want to just scratch the itch with you.” Choso cups your face in his hand, making you look at him, “I know I’m not your best choice for…someone to be with…I can’t give you a family or guarantee you a future. But I will keep you safe and treat you well.” 

You feel your heart swell at his admission, and more so at the look in his deep, sad eyes, a look that wants nothing more than to be understood, and cared for. 

“Well, I don’t know about forever, but how about after we clean up here. You and I go to dinner and we figure out where to go from here. I like you a lot, Choso. Like, a looooot.”

You punctuate your sentence with a clench of your pussy around him, making him gasp and grip your hips again. You start to laugh and he swats at your butt. 

“I’m serious. After this we have a lot to talk about, but I know that I’m glad we did this.” You suddenly feel shy, despite how bare you have already been. 

Choso smiles again, a contemplative smile, but an honest one, he holds your hips again, “Ready?” 

You nod and move with him as he guides you off his lap, moving to the side so you can lie next to him. He keeps one hand on your waist, not wanting to be parted from you yet. You push some of his hair back on his head, tracing your finger down the slope of his nose, then over his top lip. Choso soaks in everything you give him, sighing blissfully occasionally, so unafraid to make sounds and show you how he feels about you. You're inexperienced with men so open, and so willing to express it abstractly, or at all. You find that Choso makes you nervous, the enigma of his shy, stoic nature, and his desire to be known and understood, compounded with a half curse’s worth of shamelessness. You smile at him again sitting up on the table. 

“I’m willing to bet Shoko has at least one cigarette in here. I know it's a bit cliche, but I can dig around for it if you’re interested.” You stretch a bit, already starting to feel the lactic acid building in your body. 

“I’ve never smoked before.” He shrugs, leaning on his elbow. 

You sit up, not worried about covering yourself and begin rummaging through drawers. You found a pack in the second one you opened, slipped one out and then had to search for a lighter, which proved harder to find. But a long forgotten box of matches sat in the bottom drawer of the desk. Choso watched as you searched, admiring seeing your body in so many shapes, at so many angles. It was so beautiful to see the human form so relaxed and unposed, he had to fight the lump in his throat back down, so as to not disrupt you with his emotion. YOu climbed back up to the table and lit the small, thin cigarette. You inhaled and blew out a plum of soft grey smoke before passing it to him. He followed your lead, feeling the smoke slide down his throat, burning on the way down. He quickly exhaled, not wanting the taste to overpower yours on his tongue. 

“Not for you, huh?” You took another drag. 

He shook his head, “Maybe another time.” 

You hummed to yourself, taking in the room around you. Choso had no interest in the room, only to watch you leisurely inhaling and exhaling. He thought that all the movies he had seen had gotten it wrong, that while he didn’t know exactly what it was he was feeling, he knew that no one could have ever felt like this. You turned back to him, another beautiful smile coloring your face. 

“There is a locker room down the hall, we can get cleaned up.” 

“Together?” He reaches for you. 

“Sure, Cho.” You leaned in and kissed him again, your fingers under his chin tilting his face up to you. 

You got up from the table, haphazardly draping your coat around yourself, avoiding as much of the cum that had pooled as possible. You offered him his, mostly, unstained trousers. Which he shuffled in to. You discarded the cigarette and hung on the door, turning back to face him. He was still watching you, picking up left over clothes, brushing his sweaty hair back. 

“Coming?”You flirt. 

He feels his face heat up and nods, watching you leave down the hall. He grabs the last of your discarded clothes, replaying the events of the last few hours in his mind. 

“Cho…” he whispers to himself, a little celebration, before following you down the hall. 

Your evening with your vibrator was long forgotten as you made your way to the locker room, with something far more enticing catching up closely behind. 

I hope y'all enjoyed!!! I really hope i can keep this moment going and get out some of the ideas i have had over the last two months! Cause i've been thinkin big thoughts!!! I cant believe there are almost 200 of us on here, I'm so flattered and grateful! Thanks for indulging me with this one. Love you, see you next time! -- Doodle. <3

[azzo0]

She's the one.

Inspiration: this

Summary: You bring an umbrella and a warm drink to Bakugo while it's raining. And that's when he knows- you're the one for him.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

not proofread <3

Katsuki left school in a hurry while his friends were still packing their bags and taking their sweet time chatting with each other. His old hag had asked him to bring some groceries on the way home. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he sighed, checking the list of groceries his mother sent over text. He could get them from the grocery store near his house. 

He put his phone back in his pocket, walking down his usual route home, when he felt a drop of water fall on his nose. He wiped it, frowning when he felt more drops of water fall on his head. He looked up to see it had started raining. He didn't have an umbrella with him. 

"Fuck."

Meanwhile, back in class, you were helping Uraraka clean the classroom since it was your guys' turn today. You hummed to yourself, cleaning the chalkboard, the sounds of tapping on the window catching your attention. You opened the window, holding your hand out, feeling the cold drops of water fall on your palm.  

"It's raining, huh?" Uraraka said, adjusting the desks. 

"Yeah," your mind went back to your spiky-haired friend. You were aware he never had an umbrella in his locker. "Katsuki must be cold..."

"Aw, are you thinking about Bakugo?" Uraraka teased.

"Shush. I was just wondering if he has an umbrella." 

The brunette took the board eraser from your hand, giving you a smile. "You should go after him. I'll finish the rest."

"No, it's okay. Let's just finish-"

"Oh, hush, y/n. I said I'll take care of rest, right?" Uraraka handed you your bag. 

"Thank you, Ochaco." You grinned, running out of the classroom and down to the lockers. You took out your umbrella, opening it when you stepped outside the school building. It was pouring heavily now, accompanied by the cold wind. You shivered, pulling your blazer up to cover your nose. Katsuki must be soaking to the bone, you thought yourself.

And he was.

He muttered a string of curses, grimacing at the feeling of his shirt and blazer clinging to his skin. He hugged himself when the cold air hit his already wet body. This is why he hated rain. It did nothing but irritate him.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard someone call his name. He stood there, eyebrows knitted in concentration as he tried to listen through the pitter-patter of the rain. He glanced back to see a girl running towards him in the distance, calling his name. 

His chest warmed when he saw it was you. The girl he'd grown close to over the last few months. The girl who managed to drill her way into his head and make him feel butterflies just by her voice. The girl he wasn't sure he wanted to be 'just friends' with.

You stopped in front of him, almost slipping. You panted, grinning at him with your cheeks flushed from running. Bakugo gulped, his heart dancing. 

"You left without an umbrella." You said.

"So you came running here just to give me an umbrella?" Bakugo raised an eyebrow. He noticed you clutching two paper cups of something to your chest.

"Yeah, I knew you didn't have one." You said, holding out the umbrella for him to hold. Bakugo grumbled, taking the umbrella. You gave him one of the warm cups you were holding.

"What's that?"

"Hot chocolate," you replied. "I grabbed these on the way. Thought you were cold."

He took the drink from you, looking down at the cup in his hand, feeling his face heat up. "Thanks..." he mumbled.

"No problem!" You grinned. "I just came to give you these. I should get to the bus stop now."

"Wait a damn minute, you idiot." He held the cup and the umbrella in the same hand, grabbing your hand with the other before you turned to leave. "What about you?"

"What?"

"Yer going to get wet."

"Oh, don't worry. The bus stop's not too far from here."

"No. My place is just a minute away. You're coming with me. Don't want you blaming my ass when you get sick 'cause I took your umbrella."

"I-is that okay?"

"Of fucking course it is." He snorted.

"Alright then." You blushed as he held the umbrella in between you two so you were both shielded from the rain. 

Bakugo glanced at you walking beside him, bringing the opening in the lid to his mouth to sip on the warm and sweet liquid. He studied your side profile, the sleeping butterflies in his stomach waking up. Warmth took over Bakugo's previously cold body. You ran all the way in the rain just to give him a warm drink and an umbrella. How could he not fall for you?

She's the one, his heart murmured. Bakugo subtly smiled to himself, shifting closer to you to relish your warmth.

[caesium-55]

—seven days [ epilogue ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warnings: mentions of death and suicide.

author's note: here's the epilogue and the end end of the seven days series. thank you everyone for showing love to this fic! i was honestly so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of all of you. also, i apologize for all the broken hearts i caused after posting chapters 4-7. stay safe yall! i'll rest my fingers for real now. my doctor wasn't very happy with me. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm @seasonswinter @kravitzwhore @mycure156 i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

Julio [Name] was not an ambitious person. He didn't have dreams or concrete plans in life. But in 1985, his first dream was born. He wanted to be an F1 racer after reading about the Portuguese Grand Prix in a local newspaper where he saw a Brazilian racer even younger than him participate in it and winning it. Ayrton Senna was the racer’s name, twenty-five years old. At that time, Julio [Name] was the same age.

He immediately searched for the nearest karting track. He brought his then girlfriend, Sally Kingston, a dental student in USC, to the kart zone for their date. It was safe to say that driving was not exactly his forte. He crashed his rental kart and had to pay the damages. He was afraid that he made himself a loser in front of the Sally Kingston, the richest, prettiest, and nicest girl from L.A., and that she wouldn't wanna go out with a bumpkin like him anymore, but she had only laughed at him—her eyes turning into little crescents, showing too much teeth and gums—and from then and there, he knows he’s going to marry Sally Kingston one day. He might not have become a F1 driver, but he ended up marrying the girl of his dreams.

Him and Sally welcomed a son in 1991. They named him Damiano and he turned out to be a carbon copy of his beloved wife, not that Julio was complaining. When Damiano turned five, Julio brought him in the kart zone and let him try driving the kart. Damiano adored it so Julio signed him up for racing school. Three weekends later, Damiano got sick of driving around in circles so he stopped. Sally gave birth to a daughter in the same year—1996.

Five years later, he brings [Name], his mija, into the kart zone. He expected that you’ll be like Damiano, too, getting sick of the thing after three weekends or so. You didn't. You loved karting and going fast, almost dangerously so. You lasted five weekends so Julio signed you up for the kart zone’s junior racing school and you were their first female member. You won your first race when you were six, only seven months after you officially joined.

“She was born to race,” the team head told Julio. Julio then decided that he’d do whatever it takes so you could become a F1 driver.

Like his initial dream, his dream for you couldn't be brought to reality. When you were nine, you had to stop karting for financial reasons. Damiano was in high school, Rafael had leukemia, and Dominic had just been born. When Julio told you the news, you were sad but you understood why the decision was made so you never complained. You learned how to play billiards instead and your Abuelo was the one who taught you. It's cheaper than karting so Sally and Julio gave you their full support.

Julio [Name] was pleasantly surprised when you told him that you got accepted in USC’s engineering department years later. He half expected that you’d be like Damiano, who took an interest in dentistry, and was attending dental school. He was going to be a dentist like his mother. He was a perfect copy of Sally.

“If I can't be a racer, I’ll become a mechanical engineer,” you declared, head held high. Julio couldn't be anymore proud. You were living his dream.

If you asked Julio [Name] if he had lived a happy life despite not reaching his dreams, he would say yes without hesitation. He married the love of his life, Sally Kingston, now Sally [Last Name]. His first son, Damiano, had topped dental school and followed in his mother’s footsteps. His daughter, [Name], graduated with flying colors, a mechanical engineering degree under her belt and entered the motorsports industry, the first in the family to do so. (You even got him Fernando Alonso’s autograph! That's his second favorite driver!) Not only that, she volunteered at the LAFD during her college years and competed in a billiards tournament in Vegas, Australia, and the UK. You had the potential to be an international-level pool player but you didn't pursue the sport because you wanted to be an engineer. Rafael didn't let leukemia beat him and now, he’s finishing up his last year in CalTech, pursuing mechanical engineering like his older sister. A research team in Sweden had been eyeing him for a while now. Dominic, on the other hand, is steadily building a career for himself in volleyball. He was offered a sports scholarship in Harvard so, despite the fact that he’s going even farther than his siblings with no relatives near him like in L.A., Julio pushed him to pursue what he wanted. His children are his pride and joy. He spent every single day bragging about his children to his colleagues. The others had expressed their envy to him. Did Julio save a country in his last life to have such great children?

Furthermore, he’d been promoted to be the captain of Station 131 in Austin. Julio may not have driven an F1 car but he wouldn't even trade this family over anything in this world, not even the life of luxury and thrill of a Formula One Driver.

(What Julio didn't know was that Damiano had serious depression in dental school that he carried even after graduating, that you weren't accepted as an engineer in F1 and was stuck in a managerial position for the last five years, that Sweden found a better researcher than Rafael so he’s stuck suffering physically and mentally in a degree with his future unclear and cloudy, and Dominic was slowly losing passion in volleyball but it's the only thing putting him through college right now so he grits his teeth and put himself on court. No one told Julio. Julio got enough of his dreams broken already.)

Truthfully, despite working for Red Bull for half a decade, you never liked its taste. You were always the Monster Energy type of girl. It's the one drink that kept you functioning through all the all-nighters you pulled in engineering school. However, you kind of lost the palate for Monster Energy so now, here you are, standing outside a gas station mini mart in the middle of the dusty highway that leads to El Paso. You hold the chilled can of Red Bull against the side of your neck, satisfied with the feeling of something cool pressing against your skin. The temperature in Texas is going absolutely crazy this time of the year. In your other hand, two cigarette sticks balance in between your fingers. You crave the deadly nicotine. Desperately. But you're not stupid enough to smoke at a gas station because of your cravings.

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your pocket to see who messaged you. You snicker when you view the barrage of pictures from the Austin Grand Prix that Leo sent. A stolen shot of Logan, meme faces of Alex, the air show, a selfie with THE Fernando Alonso, and a Tiktok video with the other Williams mechanics.

You watched the race from the stands today and truthfully, you prefer watching the race in the garage than on the stands. It's unbelievably boring to be there. People pay thousands of dollars to sit under the excruciating heat of the sun and catch a glimpse of very fast cars for a nanosecond. You wouldn't even catch sight of if you blink. Nevertheless, you're happy that Leo is having the time of his life. You wish you share the same shoes.

leo: so so sad that u have to go

you: id be flattered if u actually mean it

leo: *rolling eyes emoji*

leo: i hope you choke on your beer

you: i hope you choke on the celebratory champagne

you: and i dont drink and drive

leo: good to know ur not stupid

leo: on a serious note make sure to drive to el paso safely

you: aight aight

leo: u know i have something to confess

you: if it's something stupid, don't bother

leo: ur stupid

you: fuck u

leo: shut up

leo: just wanna say i didn't break up with u bc u gave max too much attention

leo: i know that's what i said but i only said that bc i knew that u needed max to achieve ur dreams

leo: and idk i just thought max wouldn't give it to u not when im still dating u

you: that's stupid

you: max isn't like that

leo: hes in love with u

Your heart stutters. You ignore it.

you: liar

leo: i could tell u lil shit

leo: idk he looked like someone who’d hold a grudge

you: he does hold grudges

leo: and i cant allow myself to stand in between you and the one person who can give you your dream you know?

leo: i loved you enough to let you go to him

You choke on your saliva. You don't love Leo romantically anymore and you are sure that the feelings are mutual but his abrupt confession is enough to bring back the pain of loving him and letting him go all over again.

leo: u sure u won’t stay to see him?

leo: he’s the one who wants to see you the most

you: his ig messages makes me think otherwise

You're a fucking coward. A pussy.

leo: you didn't see the man [name]

leo: you don't know how empty he looks now

A shadow of guilt darkens your eyes. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your jacket. You open the Red Bull and take a large swig, almost draining the entire can. You exhale loudly after drinking, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You stare at the vast expanse of the dry earth before you, starting to understand the appeal of aimless road trips in the southern roads.

The world seems to be turning in slow motion now.

Ever since your father died, time feels like it was moving too fast. You arrived at the hospital half an hour after Julio was officially pronounced dead. At that time, you felt like the world was ending. Your knees gave out in the middle of the hospital hallway. Your mother’s wail echoed in your ears. Damiano and Dominic were trying to console her, both of whom were crying terribly. You stare at them, face empty despite the hurricane brewing within you. Rafael wrapped his arms around you and you held onto him as he cried uncontrollably.

Your mother possessed a weak heart. She’d grown weaker and weaker day by day after your father passed. Your father’s station held a ceremony for him to pay tribute to their fallen captain. You were the one who carried his helmet all throughout the ceremony because the entire station knew you were his most prized child. When you flipped the helmet, there was a photo taped on it. A photo of the entire family at your graduation ceremony in USC. You maintained that tired and empty stare during the entire procession. In the middle of the ceremony, your mother collapsed.

Your father’s death was the first domino to be tipped. Your mother’s collapse during the funeral was the second. From then on, everything turned to shit. Your mother had always been frail and prone to sickness so it didn’t surprise you when she had grown so weak in a matter of days. She couldn't sleep. She didn't want to eat. She lost her will to do anything else. You took her to the hospital after a week because you were afraid she was beginning to become malnourished. Damiano suggested moving your mother to El Paso, to your Abuelo and Abuela’s farm, so your mother could recuperate there, and you agreed. The entire family moved to El Paso quickly, leaving the house in Vista Del Pueblo empty and celebrated the New Year there.

You opened your phone for the first time since you landed in ATX on the 30th and a barrage of messages had been sent to you. From Daniel, Logan, Leo, Kendall, Julia. You freeze when you see Max’s name. Your finger hovers above it, hesitating. Your mind trailed back to the five years you spent in Red Bull, to all the memories with Max in it, to what happened inside his penthouse in Monaco, the jet, the night you spent in his sheets, the shoes and—

Fuck.

“Kelly,” you mumbled to yourself, typing her username in the search box. You began typing up a message. You're not mentally equipped to write a long message of apology. Your mental dictionary was not ready to use so you decided to half ass the entire message and hope for the best.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

In truth, you loved Kelly for Max. You never had problems with her. At first, you were concerned about the great age gap between her and Max as she was even older than Danny but then you figured that you did not have a say because Leo was also younger than you, born in the same year as Max. Then, you saw how she was so caring to Max, so patient in dealing with his misplaced anger, so supportive. You saw how Max transformed into a better version of himself, something you are not even capable of doing, because of Penelope and Kelly. How he became the world's most massive girl dad without trying. You ignored every bitter feeling that sprouted on your chest because you saw Max was happy and his happiness always came first. And now, you’re here, apologizing to Kelly for taking Max away from her.

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

You can't imagine how hurt Kelly was. Imagine dating and preparing a man so he could be perfect for another girl.

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“Not anymore,” you whisper to yourself, as if uttering it to the wind would cement it as the truth.

Not anymore, Max. I’m sorry.

Rafael and Dominic told you that they want to drop out of college to help you out with Mama a few days after New Year’s. You quickly told them no, to finish college and that you could handle taking care of two senior citizens and your sickly mother and help out on the farm since you’re essentially jobless at the moment.

The third domino is Damiano. You were always aware he’d been clinically depressed, taking medications to help him get better. Whatever he went through in dental school, he carried it with him until he was working. You believed he was getting better. He was seeing a therapist for years now and you were checking up on him every day. Then, like Mama, he just…. became worse. Rafael found him submerged in the bathtub in his apartment, red painting his wrists. Had Rafael not been there at the right time, Damiano would have followed Papa Julio.

The fourth domino is Dominic. He ruined his hand in March. The doctor told him it was dangerous for him to continue playing volleyball competitively. It was either he learned how to set with only his non-dominant hand because his dominant hand is partially crippled or he stopped playing all together. He’d choose the second option with no hesitation as he had lost his passion for the sport but if he’s not playing for Harvard anymore, no one would be able to pay his fees until graduation. Not when Julio died, not when Sally was too sick to continue working, not when Damiano was currently unstable, not when you’re the only one who had been supporting the entire family through your entire savings account. Red Bull must have paid you a lot of money because you’ve been keeping the entire family afloat for months now.

The fifth domino is Rafael, who got his entire thesis overhauled so now, his graduation was out of the picture. It sucked. He’d always been expected to follow his older siblings’ footsteps, both of whom are academically excelling individuals and Rafael had been studying and studying and studying. So why was this happening to him? Why was this happening to his family?

The sixth domino was yet to be tipped over.

You refuse to fall.

You blink, suddenly back in reality when you hear a loud caw of a bird flying above your head. You shake your head, tossing the Red Bull in a nearby trash can and returning inside the mini mart. The amount of caffeine in a Red Bull isn’t enough. You need more. You need fucking coffee.

Gas station coffee sucks but you’re never the type who complains. El Paso is still eight hours away and you’re sure you're going to be driving your motorcycle the entire night just to reach the farm the next morning.

You walked towards the Yamaha XSR 155 parked in front of the mini-mart, a styro cup of coffee that’s as black as your soul and as bitter as your life in your hand. Hypnotizing swirls of steam rise from the cup. In each step you take, the key that is attached to your hip jingles.

It's a little past four in the afternoon but the darkness of the sky makes you think it's around six PM. You pocket your cigarettes and stand beside your motorcycle, hand on your hip while the other brings the cup of coffee to your mouth. A car suddenly arrives, coming to a screeching halt in front of you. You flinch in surprise, almost spilling your coffee in your hands. You hiss loudly, brows furrowing, a curse sitting on the tip of your tongue. You hear the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut and when you look up—

“Max.”

He’s still in his Red Bull overalls, drenched in sweat as if he ran to the gas station instead of driving. His hair is windswept, sticking out in multiple directions almost attractively so. He looks simultaneously distraught and relieved when your eyes met. The longing in his eyes. God. You unconsciously take a step back and turn around—a flight response—when he charges in your direction.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, stopping you from your tracks and causing your coffee to spill and fall down pathetically on the floor. You avoided the puddle, hands reaching behind you to guide Max away from the steaming liquid. But it’s too late. You saw the hot coffee touch his skin.

“Max!” you exclaim, eyes going wide. Your hand wraps around his forearm, pulling it but his grip on you tightens so you resort to tapping his arm in hopes that he’ll let go and you can inspect his injured hand and make a quick run for the mini mart for first-aid supplies.

“Max, let go,” you say, panicking. “Your hand—”

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracks.

“I won't go, okay? Let go and I’ll—”

“No,” the hug tightens and you suck in a breath. “You’ll leave again. I know you’ll leave again.”

“I’ll fix your hand. You can’t burn your hand—”

“I can endure it. Let me have this please,” he pleads. You pull his hand but Max remains stubborn. Resigned, you sigh. It turns out that you’re still the same, giving whatever Max wanted.

“I’m sorry for getting angry,” he begins. “I’m sorry for stopping you from going to Renault. I’m sorry for promising that I’d talk to Christian. I’m sorry that I didn't. I’m sorry that you had to break up with Leo because of me. I’m sorry that I realized that I fell in love with you while dating Kelly. I’m sorry for the shoes. I’m sorry for getting drunk. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I’m sorry for not considering you. I’m sorry for loving you. I’m so, so sorry, [Name]. For everything.”

His words come rapidly and frankly, you don't want to hear Max like this. Max rarely apologizes. You're not used to hearing him apologize.

“Max—”

“I called, [Name].”

You freeze.

“I called so many times. Not once have you answered. Not once—” a loud sob erupts from his mouth, interrupting him. “You always come when I call.”

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“I sent you a message,” he continues. “To wait for me. I know I’m selfish but can I have five minutes please? Just….five?”

A pause.

“Okay,” you whisper. Max’s body trembles against yours and you stand still for a few minutes,

“Hey,” you say gently, suddenly reminded that you're standing in an open space and Max is still in his Red Bull overalls and he doesn't even have his usual cap on and this compromising situation you're both in was going to be bad for Max’s online reputation once the wrong pair of eyes manage to catch sight of you. You can already imagine what the headlines would be.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND HIS FORMER MANAGER CAUGHT HUGGING IN A GASOLINE STATION AFTER AUSTIN GP.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND FORMER RED BULL MANAGER IN A RELATIONSHIP?

FORMER RED BULL MANAGER POTENTIAL REASON FOR BREAKUP BETWEEN KELLY PIQUET AND MAX VERSTAPPEN?

MAX VERSTAPPEN CHEATED ON KELLY PIQUET WITH FORMER MANAGER?

MAX VERSTAPPEN, FULL-TIME WORLD TIME CHAMPION, PART-TIME CHEATING ASSHOLE.

God. You can already imagine the headache splitting the entire PR team’s skulls. The world already hates Max because of how good he was at his sport. You can’t allow people to shit on him more because of you.

“Max,” you try again, tapping his forearm so he can loosen his hold on you and you can turn around. “Max, baby, cooperate with me for a bit, yeah?”

You tug on his wrist and you can't help but sigh in relief when his arms loosen a little. He’s beginning to choke you a little bit. With his arms still around you, you pivot on your heels so you’re face-to-face with his broad chest.

When you look up to Max’s face, your heart shatters into a million pieces. His tears continue to flow and violent sobs wrack his entire body, robbing him of the ability to speak and barely allowing a breath to be drawn. He’s going to hyperventilate. Fucking dammit.

“Max,” how many times have you said his name in the last few minutes? “Hey, breathe with me.”

Your hand cradles his jaw and your eyes focused on his blue ones and fuck, they’re as insanely beautiful as you remembered.

“Breathe.”

You perform exaggerated inhales and exhales so Max can match your breaths, his hands settling on your shoulders. His palms feel heavy against your shoulders and his fingers dig deep into your skin.

“I’m here, Champ. I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m here now.”

You wait until he calms down a little and when he does, your right hand searches for his, intertwining your fingers together to assure him that you’re not going anywhere just yet. Your other hand comes up to hold the area below his neck and you slowly guide him back to his car. It’s a little difficult, Max obviously has no intention to let you go, but you know how to make things work.

Max sits on the driver's seat with you standing outside of the car. He's still clinging onto your hand and you use the other hand to hold the roof of the car for support. Max stopped crying now, staring blankly at you with a sad pout on his face. His tears are now dry, staining his cheeks.

“You okay now, Champ?” you ask, never failing to sound gentle. That's what Max needs now. Gentleness. God forbid you pull a Jos Verstappen.

Max shakes his hand, making you sigh deeply. Your eyes trail to the hands, the pale skin now an angry red.

“Max,” you call his attention. He looks up at you and you have to avoid his gaze because if you look at his face, your heart hurts. “I’ll get something from the mini-mart for your burn, aight?”

He shakes his head and his grip on your hand impossibly tightens. If he keeps this up, he’s going to break your bones.

“No.”

If you were the same person that you were in 2023, you would have let Max do what he wanted. What Max wanted, what Max shall get—that’s the philosophy you lived by. But things are different now. Leo told you that you’re allowing Max to take too much from you and Max needs to learn to actually listen to you.

You’ve been taught to treat even the most minor of burns as if it’s a major burn. That's what you are planning to do right now.

“Max,” you say, a little firmer now. “Gonna grab somethin’ in the mart real quick, you stay here, aight?”

“No—”

“Not askin’, Champ,” you interrupt him. “I'm not leavin’ yet, not goin’ anywhere until I make sure you’re okay. So stay here and wait.”

You swiftly remove the key attached to your belt and force it into his palm, “Here are my keys. I’m not goin’ to drive off and leave you here, aight? Do you trust me?”

You have a feeling that this anxiety of his might have stemmed from that one incident in his childhood where Jos left him at a gas station. Fucking son of a bitch that man was.

Hesitantly, Max says, “I do.”

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, dampening your palm.

You can see he does not like what you're doing now but he does not have any choice so he sits in the car, looking as pitiful as ever. You jog up to the mini-mart, immediately going to the beverage section to grab a bottle of water and passing by the hygiene shelf to snatch a handkerchief. You go to the counter and the middle aged guy manning the register obviously does not look impressed that you’re in his shop for the third time in the same hour, which is stupid because he should be glad that he has a customer. You put everything on the counter, pulling out some bills from your back pocket.

“You happen to have neosporin?” you ask.

“Do we look like a drug store?” he retorts. You roll your eyes, toss the bills to the cashier, and grab your items without even waiting for the guy to wrap them all up in a paper bag. You jog back to Max’s car.

“Excuse me,” you lean inside the car, opening the compartment to search for a burn cream you left inside there last year. Your eyes land on his keys, stiffening when you notice that Max kept every single gift you gave him. The bead keychain from 2020, the bottle opener keychain from 2021, the clay figure keychain from 2022, and the bracelet from 2023 sway slightly, staring back at you. You shake your head and resume doing your original mission. You find the burn cream and you immediately search for the expiration date. January 2025; it’s still good to use.

You straighten, take hold of Max’s wrist gently, and roll up his long sleeves up to his elbows. You open the water bottle and tug Max’s hand towards you so he won't get water on his car as you pour water on his burn. Once the bottle is nearly empty, you apply the cream on the reddened area of his skin. Then, you use the handkerchief, which you dampen using the leftover water, to dress it.

Max is silent the entire ordeal, watching you work your way meticulously and carefully around his hand. The same meticulousness one can expect from a former firefighter paramedic volunteer.

You step back to inspect your work, but Max’s hand stretches out towards you, grabbing the hem of your jacket.

“Sorry,” he says and yet you see his knuckles slowly turning white, which makes you unsure if he truly is apologetic or not. “Just…yeah, sorry. Can you stay for a while please?”

“Have to leave soon,” you say. “El Paso’s still hours away. I have to be there by morning.”

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, “Okay.”

“Thirty minutes, Max,” you decide. “Thirty minutes.”

You pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time and see the multiple notification bars. You type the password and direct to the message app to see the flurry of messages Max sent earlier. You have not noticed them.

max: i heard you came

max: where are you

max: please

max: can you give me ten minutes

max: just

max: please

max: wait for me

max: i’m not angry anymore

max: im begging you

max: or five minutes [name] im okay with just five

max: or even less

max: i just need to see you

“Who told you I was here?” you question, brows knitting together. There are currently two names in your head. They both start with the letter L and they both work at Williams.

“Leo called me and told me you were here.”

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes. Logan will never dare betray you like this. You made Leo promise not to tell Max where you were in El Paso and the bitch told him where you were the moment you stepped out of El Paso. He didn't break his promise technically, but it's still a very bitch move for him to pull. You're going to have a lengthy conversation with him later.

“So you’ve been in El Paso?” he asks.

You nod.

“My grandparents’ place.”

He nods.

“Sorry about Julio, by the way.”

You sigh. God, you want to cry.

It's truly unfair how God decided to take away Julio [Last Name]. Death should happen to assholes and shitty people. To people who abuse their children every day. To people who waste years of their lifespan on nicotine and alcohol. To people who kill people. Death shouldn't happen to heroes, who risk every single day of their lives to save other people. Death shouldn't happen to Julio [Last Name], a firefighter who died saving a kid in a burning building. At least, not this early. Not until you fulfilled his dream for him.

(His last words: I don't regret doing what I did. I have kids, too. I want someone to save them the same way I did that kid if they ever get stuck in a situation like this.)

“Did Leo tell you that, too?” you hope that he didn't notice that your voice slightly wobbled.

“No,” Max shakes his head. “We—Logan and I came to Vista Del Pueblo in December. Your neighbor told us that…”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence for you to know what he’s trying to say.

You nod, “So that's why there was an article that day…”

You remember Damiano showing you the news article in his phone—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN. You shrugged it off at that time.

“How are you?”

You turn to Max, raising a brow at his question.

“How am I?” you echo, sounding a little bewildered.

You see, Max has never asked this question. You're used to “Are you okay?” but not this. Not this question. You can easily lie to an are-you-okay. You can say yes even if you’re not, and you won't give yourself away because you only uttered one word. But with how-are-you, it’s different. It's not a question that is not answerable by yes or no. You actually have to explain how you feel. That's why Papa Julio only asked, “How are you, mija?” rather than “Are you okay, mija?” Papa Julio wants to know how your day went even if you're okay or not.

Yeah. You're definitely going to cry at this rate.

“How have you been after Julio?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wanted to be there for you at that time,” Max confesses. “When I learned that Julio was gone, I wanted to go to you. But Leo stopped me. He said I was not what you needed at that time and I agree. I was too angry at you for leaving me. I’m glad he didn't tell me where you are, despite how painful it was. I was selfish and immature that I cared about my grief and forgot to consider yours. I reflected on my actions a lot. I am not sure how different I am now from that version of me but I think I changed a bit. So yes, [Name], I want to know, because I want to know how you felt and help you in any way I can.”

You stand there, stunned at what Max has said. And perhaps it was his sincerity or the way his determined blue eyes stare into your soul that caused the sixth domino to tip. You break into tears, a raw cry escaping your mouth. You are so fucking tired of carrying everything on your shoulders.

Max is quick to engulf you in a hug and you don't hesitate to pull him into you, pressing your face against his shoulders as you let everything out. You claw his back as if you're trying to mold himself into you. Your nose turns red, snot drips out of your nose. You sob too loud and too heavily that you can hardly draw a breath. You don't cry pretty and this is the first time you allowed yourself to cry with another person bearing witness to your fragility.

When you calmed down, you found yourself sitting beside Max, shoulder to shoulder, in the backseat of his car, playing with the drawstrings of your jacket.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Sorry, I was just so tired,” you tip your head upwards. You can feel Max’s eyes on you. “Things have been hard since Papa died.”

“Do you want to talk? I’ll listen.”

You chuckle humorlessly.

Jesus, what did Leo feed this guy?

It feels like the roles are reversed now.

“Everybody's been takin’ it pretty hard so I'm trynna to be strong for them, you know? But I’m not that strong,” you begin. “I’m just as lost as everyone else and it's hard pretendin’ like I’m not. I’m not really sure what will happen with my life now so I wander around and do car repairs for a few folks in El Paso.”

“What happened to your dream? The job?”

“Well, it's gone,” you say, making Max’s eyes widen. “Not my time yet, I suppose. Or rather, I’m never supposed to have time. I guess I’m just not meant to be an engineer.”

“No,” Max turns to you, clasping your hands in desperation. “No, no, no. You always wanted to become an engineer. You can't just—I’ll think of something. I’ll ask Christian. I’ll ask the other teams. Renault isn't in Formula One right now but I can—”

“Max,” you smile sadly. “Let it go.”

“But—”

“Do you know what my Papa’s dream was?” you interrupt. “It’s to be a Formula One racer.”

You smile, remembering all the times you’ve seen your father watch the races on the television since you were younger. He’d wake up even in the ass crack of dawn just to watch them live. He’d be so tired after a 24-hour shift at the fire station but he’d refuse to even catch a wink of sleep until the Grand Prix broadcast is done. He always received a beating from your Mama because of it.

“He saw Senna in the newspaper and decided that he wanted to be like him, too. Sadly, Papa never vibed with a steering wheel so there was no future in that industry. He's always so disappointed in himself, sayin’ he can do the most unhinge shit at work but can't even drive a car. When Damiano and I turned five, he brought us karting. I could tell he was disappointed that Damiano didn't share his love for racing and I hated seein’ him sad so I learned to love karting. He signed me up and I did my best to win. I think I was good. Good enough to make him proud of me. Papa looked so happy when I won my first trophy. He cleaned it every week.”

You smile fondly at the memory.

“Then, shit happened and I have to stop. Papa looked even more disappointed than me that I had to stop. It hurts. Disappointment from your parents, I mean, even if I know that it's somethin’ beyond my control. I figured that if I can't be a racer, I’ll work in a pit stop. That's close enough. When I told him that I got accepted into USC and how I wanted to be an engineer, it was the proudest I have ever seen him since I won my trophy. I was livin’ his dream. I applied for Red Bull and Renault because those are Papa’s favorite teams and the rest is history.”

You pause.

“He’s never got to see me become an engineer,” you choke out, wiping the stray tear that fell from your eye with the back of your hand. “It was his dream. He always had his dreams broken and I was gonna reach his dreams for him but he’s gone before I can do so. Now, I’m so lost because I realized that I was shapin’ myself to become an extension of Papa and now that he's gone, I am an extension of no one. I was reaching for dreams that I don't own. I’m so tired and I’m so lost, Max.”

Max stares at you sadly.

“I should have talked to Christian sooner. Fuck, I hate myself for not talking to Christian. Fuck, why was I so selfish?” he presses the ball of his palms against his eyes in frustration. You chuckle, shaking your head.

“That’s okay,” you say. “I’ll find my way.”

You look at the scenery outside of the window. Night has fallen. You should have left for El Paso by now.

“I need to go,” you say, heart heavy.

“So soon?”

Max is panicking again.

“Jesus, Champ, calm down,” you pat his shoulders.

“Will I see you again?” Desperation laces his question.

“Dunno really,” you shrug.

“Can you wait for me?”

Your brows furrow.

“I’ll retire by 2028. No, that's still long. 2027. Ah no—2026? Can you wait for me? I—” Max’s hand trembles. “I love you. I love you, [Name]. I—I love you even before Kelly. I can’t. I can't lose you.”

The world stops.

“I am stupid, I am selfish, and I think I’m asking too much. If you can just wait for me, I’ll—I can even retire next year if you think it's too long—”

“Hold up right there, Champ,” you stop him. “You're not retirin’ early.”

“If you want me to, I will.”

You sigh in exasperation.

“Max,” your voice is low. “That’s your career. I’m not gonna—Jesus, Max don’t retire, okay? Not even for me. Retire only when you want to.”

This man is just…

You don't know if you want to choke him or kiss him.

“I want you to have me, [Name]. I… I want to be with you, to love you, and if retiring is the only way I can do that then I will,” he says. “I love you.”

You purse your lips.

“I love you, too, Max,” you confess and now, your chest feels lighter now that you've said it out loud. “But not now, I can't love you like this. I’m too… I can't pursue a relationship with you right now. Not when…”

“It's not our time,” Max nods. “I understand.”

He really did change.

“I want to find my way through life first," you tell him.

Max smiles and he pulls you again in a hug. He has tears in his eyes again and he sniffles, chuckling at himself for crying again. He pulls away from the hug slowly and hands you your keys.

“See you around?"

“See you around.”

You exit the car and you notice that your heart feels lighter now compared to the time you left Monaco even though you are doing the same exact thing—leaving Max to go home.

At the end of 2023, you grace the paddock with your presence—your signature YSL heels is back on the tracks. You wear pants now, instead of the corporate pencil skirts, matched with a Prema Racing polo shirt. The label at the back indicates: AERODYNAMIC ENGINEER. By the end of 2024, you are promoted to the strategy team. By 2025, you become a race engineer of an up-and-coming racing superstar and you kept the job position until now.

The world didn't end just because your Dad died. It took you a while to realize that your Papa didn't own your dreams. It was always yours to begin with. He just played a part in inspiring them.

Max Verstappen became the 2024, 2025, 2026, 2027, and 2028 WDC, marking history as an eight-time consecutive champion. He retired after the 2028 season and disappeared from the face of the Earth. He had stopped going home to his penthouse in Monaco, had put his private jet on sale, and had cut ties to his father, Jos, who was very disappointed that his son had retired too early in the sport. Max retired willingly—he had achieved more awards than most of his seniors and it's time to give room to the younger ones. Rumors say that he had established a racing program somewhere in Belgium. Charles Leclerc, Max's friend, refuses to update the media regarding Max's whereabouts and only says: "He's happy. Don't worry."

Years later, a thirteen-almost-fourteen year-old girl named Emiliana Julia Verstappen, racing under the American flag, become the youngest driver in history to join the ranks of the F1 academy and later, she becomes the youngest driver to ever drive a Formula One car, racing for Scuderia Ferrari as second driver, at only seventeen and a hundred and fifty days old, overthrowing Max Emilian Verstappen, retired eight-time F1 WDC, whom the world has not seen since his retirement, from the list.

[oct0bra1ns]

can you do a platonic yandere teacher? like maybe the teacher kidnaps the darling (his fav student) because he has always wanted a child and you just seem like the perfect child to have! and he kinda gets pissed off if you mention your old family. Reader can be High school or Middle school age i don’t care which.

teehee, i hope you don't mind but i combined it with another another ask which was similar, i went to keep both aspects of the ask so there'll be two yandere characters, they can be a couple or just two people who live together, whatever you want. once again, no names :P

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Yandere Teacher and Yandere headmaster who used to argue all the time despite the fact that they live under one roof. Yandere teacher hates what the headmaster deems as necessary for the students and teachers while the headmaster hates how the teacher never listens to anything he says.

All the staff hate whenever a meeting is called, not because their day was disrupted, no, but because they have to sit and listen to these two arguing over the most stupid things.

They couldn't seem to agree on anything until they met you. Yandere teacher had always kept an eye on you, the one student in his class who used to submit everything on time, complete every assignment to perfection nd rather well behaved.

He usually hates having to explain himself over and over again but if you ask him to repeat something, he will, even if he has already gone though the topic like 100 times.

If by chance you don't do well on a test, he'll give you another assignment to make up for it, or be less harsh with his grading on that certain paper.

He'll let you disturb his free time if you have any doubts or topic you don't understand.

You've always been his favorite student, so well behaved, never causing a scene in class and doing everything he assigned you to the best of your abilities.

With all this in mind, there was no surprise when you decided to run for the President of the student council, with your track record, you were bound to be selected by the teachers*.

That was until he found out one student from a more well off family was planning to run as your rival and for once he went to the headmaster to ask for help.

The headmaster has always kept an eye on you, someone who managed to impress the Teacher who was known for being nitpicky with everything his students did. Of course, that wasn't the only reason, always participating in events, getting awards, representing the school in inter school events, all made him quite interested in what you could achieve within your school years.

Naturally the moment the Teacher came in, asking for you to be selected as the next president he agreed without hesitation,bringing down the reputation of a spoiled child in the eyes of the teachers was no problem for him.

It didn't take long for both of them to agree it would be better if you were staying with them, after all, being the child of the headmaster of one of the most prominent schools was nothing to scoff, that too along with a teacher who had years of experience and a well known reputation in the eyes of various boards.

Of course, being the student council president meant that you had lots of duties to attend to, ones which included you staying late in the school while most of the staff and teachers left, as such, it was quite easy for them to bring you the unfortunate news that your family perished in an accident, when in reality, they made sure to use their influence to make sure they'd never be found.

Under the disguise of being concerned for you, they'd offer to let you stay in their houses. They'd use the first week to make you forget your old family under the guise of giving yourself closure and giving you time to yourself.

They wouldn't rush anything, in time they'd start acting as if you had no other family except them, both of them would step in the role of your parents.

They'd do anything to keep you happy, learning all your likes/ dislikes, cooking whatever dish you wanted, helping you with whatever and buying you everything you ask for.

The headmaster is not someone who cares if you mention your old family, they don't matter because they're gone and as long as he has you with him, he doesn't care while the Teacher on the other hand, tends to get irritated if you mention your old family, he'll bear it to a point before he snaps and goes on a long lecture of all he's doing for you and how clinging onto the past is not good for you.

At that point the headmaster steps in and drags him aside to have a few words with him and he'll come back and apologise to you over his behaviour. The next time he goes on such a rant, one look from the headmaster and He'll stop talking.

Being the headmaster's child comes with a lot of perks, teachers giving you much more respect, students also making sure they don't upset you. If even after all that a teacher or student manages to do something that makes you upset, the headmaster deals with them personally.

*In schools over here, the student council is always decided by the teachers after a few rounds of interviews and 'tests'

[kill4luvina]

✧ Never Again ✧

"I got a feeling one of these days You'll be the reason I stay Way you whine, girl, you make me insane"

PossisiveBf!TojixBlack!Reader 

CW - Modern, Overly Possisive Toji, OOC, Toji Smoking, Unprotected Sex, Public Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie. Probbably more but I’m lazy and not proofread. (I havent posted in so long give me a break.)

Summary: You and your boyfriend of 3 years go out on a date to celebrate when you run into a old friend who obviously can’t read the room. In a hurry to finish the short reunion your boyfriend leaves angrily waiting for you outside the car to ready to take his frustration out on you. 

“Tojii, this place is so wonderfu!” You’d gasp holding onto his arm in awe, as you both entered the dimly lit restaurant. Your eyes glued to the white plaster sculpture of a winged figure riding a horse above you two. Your boyfriend woud smile knowing you loved sculptures and this would be the perfect place to spend you 3rd anniversary.

After being seated , about 30 minutes later you were caught off guard by a figure behind you. You quickly turn to see a bright smile. Gojo, one of your old friends from High school who seemed to have not aged a day over 20. Though you knew he was around 25, you smile back greeting him with a wave. “How are you?” He asked. 

You glanced over to your boyfriend who looked unbothered before bringing your full attention back to Gojo. “Oh I’m doing wonderful, You?” You smiled happy to see him, the last time you two spoke waas at the end of after a trip with your high school friend group. You two soon lost track of time talking for almost 15 minutes! 

You notice Gojo give a strange look before looking around in confusion. You turn to see Toji’s gone, your heart dropping. “I-” you couldnt form words wondering how long he had been gone for, if he left you or what. You struggle to make a sentence before gojo smiles a nods. “Go on, it’s my fault i interrupted.” 

You’d smile, “It was nice seeing you!” you’d say quickly getting up and speed walking to the entrance of the restaurant. Your silver glittery heels slightly slowing you down, which made you quickly take them off as soon as you got outside panicking as you jogged to where he had parked. “Toji?!” You’d call out startled when you didnt see his car for a moment.

“Right here mamas.” He’d answer from a little farther down making you sigh quickly, seeing the smoke from his blund rising into the dark night. You’d slowly walk to the direction of his voice until you saw him standing against his blacked out Lamborghini Aventador. “Toji, I’m sorry I got so caught up in the conversation..” You’d say looking at the ground.

He’d huff ignoring your apology just hitting the blunt, his eyes not even moving in your direction. He’d stand there silently listening to pleas, as you kept apolging, tears filling your eyes as you started to sniffle. Your voice cracking as you came closer to him pulling on his suit begging him to even look at you. 

“Y/n.”  Your heart would completely sink, he only ever called you by your name when you really fucked up. You’d look up at him, and he was now looking down at you. His eyes cold and low as he blew some smoke into your face. The Earthy scent mixed with his La Nuit De L'homme Yves Saint Laurent colonne making you weak. 

“Y-yes?” You’d answer, eyes watering even more scared at what he might say this time. “Mamas, what’d I’d tell you about guys talking to you?” He’d tilt his head, his eyes softening up as he noticed your tears starting to roll down your face. “N-not to pay them any mind, and I’m sorry he was an old friend!” You’d try to explain only to be shut up with a kiss. 

“I’ll let you get away with this one because it’s our anniversary. But you owe me one thing..”

You don’t know what possessed you to let this happen but you found yourself getting fucked agasint this mans car. Lamborghini to be specific, out in a public parking lot. 

“T-Tojii-” You’d whine feeling him drill in and out of your squelching pussy, tightening around him as you heard footsteps nearing. “Shh, they’re gonna hear..” He’d chuckle knowing they were going to see anyway. “F-fuckk. too deep-!” you’d cry as you felt him bury himself as deep as possible. His smirk grew as he watched a couple gasp seeing this. 

You’d let out a loud moan feeling him slap your ass, your dress pulled up to your waist and laced panties in his right hand. “Your being too loud..” He’d whissper in your ear still fucking your now creamy pussy. “How about..” Failing to fight back you found your panties now shoved in your mouth to shut you up, your eyes tearing up in embarrassment as you saw another man walk past. 

Unfortunately for you, it was someone you knew. The person who started all of this, you felt your tears start to pour as you couldn’t stop moaning from the pleasure but the embarrassment was too much. “Y/n?” He’d titled his head to the side in shock, feeling himself get hard before quickly walking off trying to pretend he never saw.

“Toji!” You’d scream muffled by the fabric in your mouth, you quickly spit it out turning back to look at him. He’d without hesitation push your head against the car window, “who’s a good slut?’ He’d ask fucking you even faster as you felt yourself reaching the edge. Your eyes rolling back as he brought one of your legs up to fuck you deeper. 

“Omg! Fuckkk!” You’d cry cumming all over his dick, feeling him thrust into you a few more times before letting his load out in you. “Look at you, a little cum dump.” He’d snicker as he pulled out, giving your ass a little slap before picking your heels & purse from the floor. You’d feel yourself get picked up and gently placed in the car. 

“Never do that shit again.” He’d say coldly before givng you a kiss on your forehead and coming around the to the drivers seat. You’d sit there silently just rethinking your life as you felt yourself drip  your boyfriends cum onto his expensive seats.

Little did the both of know of a few cars down sat gojo in his own car, windows rolled down half way, cum all over his stomach & chest. Breathing heavily with the feeling of embarrassment overwhelming him. He had sat there listening to you, just to get off to his fist? He didn’t feel okay after that one yet he loved every moment of it while it was happening.  

yall should i make a part 2 with gojo telling u to leave ur bf :)

"Bad man looking good in Dior Bad man drip to the core Sport car's parked on the right spot Bad man sleek and you know"

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be. 

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store. 

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again. 

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout. 

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today. 

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life. 

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child. 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though. 

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too. 

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with. 

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge. 

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?”

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store. 

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner. 

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel. 

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you. 

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him. 

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. 

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl. 

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame. 

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him. 

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning. 

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality. 

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops. 

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him? 

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately. 

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him. 

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything. 

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?” 

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him. 

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert. 

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest. 

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck. 

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften. 

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand. 

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire. 

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs. 

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him. 

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist. 

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away. 

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better. 

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone. 

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly. 

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid. 

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud. 

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh. 

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs. 

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back. 

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?” 

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

PART TWO

[itsonlyjoseph]

Make Me Bleed || Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N wants to find a way to thank Eddie

Warnings: some angst

Word count: 4.3k

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Part 1

You had been trying to wrap your head around the interaction with Eddie all day, the next day. You hadn’t yet listened to the Walkman Eddie gave you or the tape he left with it.

You wanted to, but you were nervous. Nervous for what exactly, you weren’t sure. But nervous nonetheless. At school, you had planned to leave a note in Eddie’s locker, asking to speak privately with him. You were going to say thank you for replacing your Walkman but that you needed to know why he hated you so much. But he wasn’t at school. Again.

You wanted to ask Eddie’s friends but they were even scarier than he was so that was out of the question.

You decided to cut your losses and just forget out it until you saw him.

Later that day, after school, you were laying on her bed, curled up like a fetus with your headphones over your ears and Eddie’s Walkman sitting next to you.

You were listening to the tape he gave you as well.

It definitely wasn’t your kind of music, but in a weird you kind of liked it. Kind of like Eddie. He was the same. You just couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

By the time Saturday came around, you hadn’t seen Eddie in a few days.

You knew that he played guitar in a heavy metal band because gossip flew around the school like crazy, plus you’d seen him carrying a guitar case out of the Hideout once.

You were probably way out of line but you decided to best course of action was to go watch him play tonight and then hope to speak to him afterwards. It was probably a bad idea for many reasons. You had no idea if Eddie would even give you the time of day and the bar was pretty sketchy on a good day.

It almost 9 pm when you decided to get ready and cycle over. You didn’t really dress up. This was just meant to be a conversation and a quick thank you for the Walkman. Nothing else.

You’d arrived at bar almost 40 minutes later. The street was dark and dungy and there were some questionable people around. Most older, tatted biker dudes and a plenty of old groupies that would have been beautiful 25 years ago.

Walking in, the air was stale and smokey, making it hard to see and navigate around. The bar was decently packed as well. After all, the Hideout was the only bar in town that allowed all kinds of people in. It definitely didn’t discriminate the way some of the nicer cocktail bars in town did.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. It was obvious you didn’t belong here and it was obvious that your anxiety levels were through the roof.

You saw the stage. It was small and covered in carpet and had a lonely drum set and amps and guitar stands but no band members. You had no idea if Eddie even played on Saturdays but you figured you’d take your chances since the last time you saw him outside the bar, was a Saturday.

You excused yourself to no one in particular and tried to find the bathroom to freshen up and try to loosen your mind.

It was covered in graffiti and stickers and the mirrors were cracked but it offered some muffled silence. Looking in the mirror, your anxiety’s were sky rocketing. You didn’t dress like the people here or do your hair and makeup like them. You looked like a sheep amongst wolves, and it felt like they were waiting to tear you apart.

Walking back out into the main bar area, you decided to just go home. You’d never felt more out of place and suddenly your plan was sounding more and more stupid.

As you walked out towards the front door, you noticed that the band was making their way onto the stage. Eddie’s curly hair caught your eye and you stopped in your tracks. He wasn’t smiling or anything but he seemed for relaxed that usual. He seemed at peace.

The band started playing and Eddie lost himself in the music. And he was good. Very good. He was so good that he probably could’ve been a professional or famous.

They played several more songs as the night wore on and granted, it wasn’t your kind of music but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his arms glistened with sweat.

It was making you question why you came here.

It almost 2 am when they finish up their set. You didn’t realise just how much time had passed until you looked at your wristwatch. The crowd cheered as the band members made their way off the stage.

Now that the prospect of talking to Eddie was getting closer, you decided to test your luck at bar and order a shot just to calm yourself. You hadn’t really ever had alcohol besides a few sips of your dad’s beer and half a wine at Christmas.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked. He could probably tell you were underage just from your body language but something told you this wasn’t the establishment that cared too much.

“Uh, just a shot of… uh..” you tried to squint your eyes at the shelf behind him. “Uh, that one.” You said pointing to a miscellaneous bottle of clear liquid.

The bartender chuckled humourlessly before grabbing the bottle and pouring a shot to place in front of you.

“Here, first one’s on the house.”

“Oh, well then I want another.” You said, quickly downing the shot. It burned more than you thought it would and tasted terrible.

You slapped a five dollar bill on the bar and downed the second shot. That one burned even more than the first one.

Considering you’d never really had alcohol before, definitely not like that, you felt a little dizzy. And hot. This wasn’t a nice feeling and why people actually did this for fun, you didn’t understand.

You saw Eddie’s mop of hair walked over to him. He was turned to you, chatting to someone with a beer in his hand when you tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned, ready to tell whoever to fuck off. He didn’t expect to turn around and see you standing before him.

“Y/N?” Eddie muttered, confused to see you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Eddie’s large hand gripped around your elbow and yanked you into the hallway that lead to the bathroom. It was significantly quieter with far less people.

“What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t the kind of place you should be.” He said, clearly frustrated.

“Uh, I wanted to see you.” You mumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie paused for a moment.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I wanted to speak to you. I-I didn’t really get a chance to say thank you for apologising and for-for the Walkman.”

“Yeah, well you just did so leave.” He huffed.

“Why did you? You didn’t have to give that to me. I was gonna save up for a new one.”

It almost seemed like Eddie didn’t know what to say. Like he didn’t know the answer himself.

“Thank you, though.” You said. You figured Eddie wouldn’t say anything else.

“That’s the only reason you came here?” He asked and you nodded.

“Uh, I guess I’ll go now. You played really great. I recognised some songs from that tape you gave me.”

As you turned to leave, Eddie called out to you one more time.

“You don’t have a car.” He said to which you simply shook your head. “So you rode that bike here?”

You said nothing.

“You can’t ride your bike home at this hour. Especially not in this part of town.”

You hadn’t thought about that but he was right. Biking home after work was scary enough, let alone at almost 3 am.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be okay. I can’t really call my dad. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s okay Eddie, you should stay with your friends.”

“No, I’ll drive you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

What Eddie had said made your tummy drop. You didn’t really know if he meant here or just in general but you chose not to question it.

You followed Eddie out to the parking lot. It was still warm enough and there was a light breeze in the air.

Eddie drove a van, you knew that much.

“Wait, I thought your uncle said you lost your license again?”

“Like that’s ever stopped me.” Eddie mumbled, opening the passenger door for you.

Once you were sat in the van, Eddie stopped and looked at you. “Listen, just stay here for a sec. I need to get my guitar and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled softly. He didn’t return it.

Eddie walked off, back inside the bar and you sat back, taking a breath.

The alcohol was wearing off and the fatigue was setting in. You never stay up this late and felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier until you drifted off into a relaxing slumber.

Eddie returned moments later and loaded his guitar into the back of the van, making his way into the drivers seat.

“Okay, so where do you li-“ Eddie began to say but stopped himself when he saw your eyes closed and your lashes gently resting against your cheeks. Gentle snores were coming from your mouth and Eddie couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

He didn’t have enough gas to just drive around until you woke up and he didn’t want to sleep in the van so he did the only thing he could think of.

He took you to his place.

He wasn’t sure how you’d react when you woke up in the morning but he’d try his best to not scare you off.

It wasn’t long until he pulled up to the trailer park, parking next to Wayne’s truck.

Eddie opened the passenger door and took a deep breath, hoping you could chew him out later. He unclipped your seatbelt and picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the steps and into the unlocked trailer.

Wayne was inside, snoozing on the couch. He didn’t work weekends and took that as an opportunity to actually sleep at nighttime.

Eddie carried you down the hallway and into his bedroom, careful not to hit your head on the door frame, and gently placed you down on his unmade bed.

You unconsciously curled up into the pillow as your mouth fell open, those gentle snores coming back. Eddie looked down at you and sighed. He really was sorry for all the things he’s said to over the years. He probably didn’t mean them. Or maybe he did and he’s just a terrible person. It wouldn’t surprise him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

Eddie knew that it wouldn’t be right to sleep in the bed next to you, especially without your knowledge, so he wondered over to his desk and sat down. He probably would’ve slept on the couch if Wayne wasn’t out there. Eddie felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier until he laid his head down on the desk and drifted off to sleep. Luckily for him, it wasn’t the comfiest sleeping position so he was tossing and turning all night, meaning he woke up before you when the sun was out.

He lifted his head with a groan, his neck feeling much tighter than the night before.

Eddie turned and looked over at you, laying in his bed sound asleep. You looked so peaceful and calm to him. His mind once again went to all the nasty things he’s ever said and done to you over the years.

He got from his desk and left the bedroom. Wayne was up when Eddie got into the kitchen. Making a cup of coffee, ready to head out to the porch for his morning cigarette.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wayne mused when he saw the tired, stiff look on Eddie’s face.

“Didn’t sleep good.” He mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because my bed is occupied.” He deadpanned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Wayne stopped what he was doing and turned slightly to look at the back of Eddie’s head.

“By who?”

“Just a girl from school.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he turned fully to face Eddie. Eddie has never mentioned a girl before and has never even mentioned being interested in one.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Eddie huffed, angrily.

Wayne put his hands up in mock surrender at Eddie’s abrasiveness. “Okay, okay, just make sure you’re being safe.”

“It’s not like that!” Eddie raised his voice. Wayne knew Eddie had a bit of an anger problem. He inherited that from his father. He also knew that Eddie had trouble expressing his emotions.

“Then… what’s it like?” Wayne pressed, curious.

“It’s like… I don’t know! It’s not like anything!”

“Okay, Eddie.” Wayne said, walking to the front door as Eddie went back to his bedroom.

Sometime during the night, Eddie managed to remove his shirt. The trailer was always so hot at night that it was almost impossible to sleep in clothes unless it was winter time.

He didn’t have the heart to wake you up just yet, enjoying this foreign feeling of peace for the moment. He opened up his window and sat under it, at the end of the bed. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette and felt the breeze from outside float through his hair.

Eddie was half way through his cigarette when you began to stir in your sleep. He looked over and saw your eyes opening gently. And he got nervous. Would you yell at him for bringing you here?

“What time is it?” Your gentle sleep filled voice the room, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Uh, around 7.”

“I guess I fell asleep before you could take me home.” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t wanna’ wake you.” Eddie stubbed out his cigarette.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I bombarded you at your hang out spot and then took up the rest of your night.” You muttered.

“It’s okay.”

“You seemed… mad that I was there.”

“I just didn’t expect to see you in a place like that.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie huffed, as if the laugh humourlessly. “Full of bad people, though.” Eddie looked up at you and suddenly liked the way you looked sitting in his bed with messy hair and sleep in your eyes. “Why do you think I’m there?” He tried to joke. Key word being tried.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Eddie.” You said softly.

“You’d be the first.” He mumbled so quietly you barely even heard it.

You moved out of the bed to sit on top of the covers, only a few feet of space between you and Eddie.

“Actually, there was another reason I came to see you last night.”

Eddie looked up from his hands when you moved closer.

“I wanted to ask you… why don’t you like me? What did I do?” You asked and Eddie saw the saddest in your eyes.

Eddie let out a shallow breath and looked down at his hands again.

“I don’t know.” He said softly.

You gulped and felt a pit in your stomach at that.

“Oh, um… did I do anything?”

“You’re happy… have a good dad.” Eddie was ashamed but he didn’t want to lie.

“Ya know Eddie, despite what Principle Higgins said to you, that doesn’t have to be your life. You could do anything.”

“Yeah like what?” Eddie spoke at a normal volume this time, his voice holding a frustrated edge. “Go off and be a doctor or a lawyer and marry some girl from the right side of town, have a bunch kids with a white picket fence? Huh?” Eddie was getting angrier now. He’d rose off the bed and was standing now. “You think there’s anything in the cards for me that’s not prison or something very similar?”

As Eddie paced around his bedroom, spitting out horrible things about himself, you suddenly realised why Eddie was the way he was. He was scared. He was scared because he knew what his life would be. He knew that his fathers influenced affected him. He needed someone to tell him that he wasn’t his father. He didn’t someone to care about.

“Ugh!” Eddie huffed and growled, frustrated. He drug his palms into his eyes and gripped the hair at his hairline.

You got up from the bed and walked over the Eddie, gripping his wrists gently and pulling them from his eyes. He flinched slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t know how your life is gonna turn out. It doesn’t have to be like that.” You said softly as you looked up at him.

Eddie stared down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. His expression was once again unreadable but he didn’t try to remove his wrists from your hands. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, not knowing what to say so he just kept staring at you.

Suddenly, a gentle knock came, breaking you both out of each others gaze.

“Eddie, I’m g- oh Y/N, hi.” Wayne said, opening the Eddie’s bedroom door. Look on his face showed that he was confused by the situation.

“Hi Wayne.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Uh, I’m heading into town so I’ll be back later. Do you two need anything?” Wayne asked. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. He figured his nephew was probably gonna start dating or hooking up with people soon if not already. He was a teenager after all. With Eddie’s personality and attitude, Wayne was nervous that the first girl he picked up would be some easy bimbo that would wind up pregnant and he’d be a teen dad, so when Wayne saw that it was you standing in Eddie bedroom with him, he was elated.

“Okay.” Eddie answered him, his face hard.

“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” Wayne nodded at you, closing the door.

“Listen, Y/N, you don’t have to waste your breath on me. I know what’s gonna happen to me and so do you. Just drop it.” Eddie moved to sit on the edge of the bed, finally breaking away from your grip. “Besides, girls like you shouldn’t hang around with guys like me.”

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t believe it, Eddie. I really believe you can do anything.” You said, sitting beside him on the bed. You were closer than you’d ever been.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do.” You reaffirmed as you took his hand. Eddie had never really felt his close to someone before. It made his spine tingle. The physical contact, plus the words of affirmation made him feel things he didn’t like. “You deserve everything.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Eddie mumbled, looking right at you.

Tingles ran down your spine at his words. You were confused. You thought he didn’t like you.

“Do you-do you want me?” You were scared of the answer but wanted to know so badly.

Eddie huffed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Before you could respond or even process what he has said, Eddie stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll get your bike out of my van.”

Once you were alone, you breathed deeper than you has all morning. You wanted to know what Eddie meant but you didn’t want to push him or annoy him.

You walked out of Eddie’s trailer to see your bike leaning against the steps and Eddie’s van gone, him nowhere in sight.

You cycled home and felt conflicted. What did Eddie mean? Did he hate you or not? Did he want you like that? Did you want him like that?

When you got home, your dad was out in the garage, working on his car. You ditched your bike near the garage door and walked up to him.

“Hey dad, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Oh, hi pet. Where were you last night?” You dad said as he looked up.

“With a friend.” You offered.

“Oh, okay. I’m just trying to fix this damn timing belt.” He chuckled.

You gulped. “Dad, can I ask you something.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked without looking away from the cars engine.

“It’s about a boy.” You mumbled. That made your dad look up.

“What about it?”

“Well, this guy at school. Everyone seems to think he’s a bad person and honestly, I kind of did to for a while but lately I’ve seen a different side to him. I know he’s a good person, he’s just trouble and didn’t have a great upbringing. How am I supposed to make him see that he’s not the loser he thinks he is?”

“Hm. That’s a lot to take in. Why is this boy so important? Maybe he really is a loser.”

“He’s not. He’s actually really talented and I can tell that there’s more to him than he shows people. I think he just needs someone to depend on.”

“Who is this boy, anyway?” Your dad asked.

“Uh, It’s Eddie Munson.”

Your father looked at you with a worried look on his face.

“Petal, I don’t think I like the idea of you hanging around that Munson boy. I knew his father-“

“But that’s the thing, dad” you cut him off. “I know that Eddie’s nothing like his dad. People have told him that he’d be nothing, just like his dad his whole life and I know that it’s not true.”

Your dad took in your words and thought for a moment. It’s true that he knew Eddie’s dad back in high school and saw what a trouble maker he was and the petty criminal he turned out to be. But he also knew that you didn’t chose where you came from and that you were a smart girl.

“Okay, sweetie. If you think so. I know you’ll make the right choice

“I hope so”

“All you can do is be there for him. Show him you won’t leave and show him that he matters.”

“Thanks dad.”

“You’re a kid, Y/N. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you as my dad.” You smiled up at him.

“Get outta’ here.” He chucked.

You smiled and ran upstairs to your room. You wanted to go and find Eddie and tell him that you’d be there for him and that he deserved happiness as much as anyone else but you had no idea where he went and you didn’t have his number.

Tomorrow was Monday and Monday meant school. You hoped that Eddie would be there so you talk to him again.

That night you went to sleep with a heavy heart and your tummy in knots and in the morning you spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. You brushed out your hair and applied your makeup and picked your outfit just a little bit more careful than usual.

At school, the hallway was crowded as you hung around Eddie’s locker. You didn’t actually know if he went to it often or not but this was your only option right now. When the hallways emptied after the final bell, you made your way over.

Last night, you had written a note to slip into Eddie’s locker.

‘Eddie, meet me at the picnic table in the woods after school - Y/N’

6 and half hours later, you were sat in the woods, alone, hoping that Eddie would show up.

Your palms were sweating and your knee was bouncing. You kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You hadn’t really thought about what you would say if Eddie showed up.

“Hey.” You heard a low grumbled behind you.

You turned quietly to be met with Eddie’s hard face.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the table and sat down, dumping his jacket on the old wood.

“Why’d you call me out here?” He asked.

“I wanted to talk. Talk about what you said yesterday in your room.”

“Y/N, just forget about it-“

“I like it when you say my name.” You cut him off, looking down.

Eddie didn’t really know how to respond to that. All of yesterday afternoon, his thoughts were plagued with you. The way you were so kind to after he’d been awful to you. You way your hand felt over his. The way his spine tingled when he remembered Wayne called you his girlfriend. He’d never felt like this before.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really did mean it when I said you can do anything.” You smiled.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked.

“Because I can see that you’re a good person under that hard shell. And I want you to know that I… I guess I care.”

“You care about me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the bench, walking around and sitting down besides Eddie.

“When you said you didn’t deserve me, what did you mean?” You whispered.

“Y/N..”

“Please tell me.”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. No matter how much I want to be near you, I can’t.” He whispered back.

“You won’t drag me down, Eddie.”

“I drag everyone down, Y/N.”

“I’m not everyone.”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought as he stared into your eyes. He’d seen plenty of attractive women in his time. At school, at The Hideout, on the street. None of them looked back at him the way you were right now.

“Eddie…” you whispered, scooting closer. “Kiss me.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Stolen

pairing: grid x wolff reader

summary: the grid just can’t help but steal you any time you show up to a race, you just want to pass your classes

a/n: short blurb! thanks for the request, sorry it took so long 🫶

requests open masterlist

—————

“Pup, come look at this,” Lando drags you away from the Mercedes garage, where you just sat down.

“Lando, I just got here. Can’t I relax on my day off?” you pout. Every time you come to the track, someone is stealing you from your parents. That’s what happens when you are raised on the track.

“Ah, Miss Wolff, how is school going,” Zak asks when Lando drags you in.

“It’s going. Today is my day off, I was going to spend it with my parents,” you give Lando a pointed look.

“Quit complaining, come on,” Zak shakes his head as Lando drags you away.

“What did you want to show me?” you sigh as Lando leads you to his drivers room.

“My new line, a hoodie for you,” Lando hands you a soft hoodie.

“Thank you, but you couldn’t bring it to me?” you frown.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to hang out with you,” he pouts.

“You want to hang out with a teenager? I appreciate your friendship Lando, but I need to study for my exams and it’s hard to do that when everyone steals me from the garage,” you tell him, hoping he understands since he finished school while racing.

“I do, you are fun. I also get that you have to study, even if it is your day off school. I’ll see you later?” Lando says, hugging you.

“Yeah,” you hug him back before going back to Mercedes. On the way back you get stolen by Logan, Zhou, Fred, and Christian, meaning you lost an hour of study time.

“Alright Christian, give me my daughter back,” Toto shakes his head when he finds you in the Red Bull garage after your SOS text.

“Bye Uncle Christian,” you give him a little salute as you walk out with your dad.

“I can send out a message asking everyone to stop kidnapping you,” Toto suggests, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No, don’t, it makes them so happy,” you chuckle, even if you are a little annoyed. You grew up in the paddock and loved everyone here.

“Whatever you say. Why don’t you use my office to study? Maybe that will help,” he says, leading you to the motorhome.

“She can use my driver room, no one will look for her there,” George chimes in. He and Lewis will always be your favorite current drivers, even if they are trying to set you up with Kimi or Ollie. George’s idea works, and you get a couple quality hours to do your work.

“Sweetheart, it’s time for George to get ready for the practice session,” your mom pops in as you are putting your books away.

“Thank you, Georgie,” you hug the driver who hugs you back.

“Carmen is waiting for you with a coffee,” George winks, stepping into his room. Your mom takes you to hospitality where you find Carmen waiting.

“You are the best older sister ever,” you say, taking the iced coffee from her.

“I figured you needed something after the boys bothered you all day,” she laughs. The two of you watch the practice with your mom, watching the boys pull out a P3 and P4 for FP1.

“That’s it, Kid, you are staying here all weekend and every race,” Lewis tells you once he’s back in the garage. You are his good luck charm, he’s called you that since you were little.

instagram

georgerussell63 great weekend for the fam 👊 oh and ig @/ynwolff was there too

lewishamilton just two guys and their dad

ynwolff this is me erasure 😭

ynwolff dislike button ➡️

jensonbutton what did i do other than help raise you, Pup 🥺

ynwolff sorry uncle jense, love you 🫶

mercedesamgf1 if the rest of the grid would stop stealing my daughter, she’d be in this picture 😐 - toto

scuderiaferrari No. - Fred

landonorris I agree with Fred

williamsracing technically we had the Wolff family first…

user1 find someone who looks at you the way the merc team looks at each other

ynwolff ew, no that’s my dad and older brothers

user2 LMFAO

[msschemmenti]

country living

request: there needs to be more love for jemily x reader tho!! so im thinking like jj taking her partners back to pennsylvania to show them what it’s all about

jemily x reader

summary: jj’s high school reunion is happening and she convinces both her girlfriends to come to her small rural town in pennsylvania.

a/n: hey hottie!! thanks for the request— country girls shake it for me jj edit stans rise!! idk how rural east allegheny is but im making it very small town rural 🤠 hope you enjoy <3 if anyone wants the actual reunion part of this just let me know 🫡

“good evening lovers!” y/n smiled over her shoulder at the sound of her front door opening.

“lovers? that’s new.” emily mumbled as she rounded the kitchen island to the younger woman.

“you got a problem being one of my lovers?” y/n asked teasingly as she turned the heat down on the stove.

“not at all, just curious.” emily replied holding her hands up in surrender before placing a kiss on y/n’s cheek.

“i kinda like it.” jj mused slipping out of her shoes.

“you like anything that alludes to bedroom activities.” y/n rolled her eyes at the blonde.

“guilty!” jj sing-songed, coming to pinch y/n’s side affectionately. the younger woman turned the stove off completely and turned to face her girlfriends.

“dinner will be done in a little bit if you want any. oh and before i forget, i picked up your mail, it’s in the mail holder in the entryway.”

“thanks baby.” jj smiled, stepping back in the entryway to retrieve their mail. she shuffled the envelopes, scanning the senders as she walked back into the kitchen. she plopped down on a stool and passed emily a few bills before pausing at an invitation addressed to her. she slid her finger through the sealed envelope and pulled the invite out curiously.

“god, has it really been 25 years since i graduated high school?” jj mumbled as she flipped the card over.

“25 years?” y/n echoed. “i’m not even going to say what i was going to say.”

“oh god, don’t do that thing you do when you say how old you were during that year. it always makes me feel old.” emily grumbled.

“hey! i stopped myself. i can’t help it, it’s the only way i can track time.” y/n whined as she started plating dinner. “anyways, is there a reunion or something?”

“yeah, it’s in pennsylvania next month.”

“oo, are you gonna go?”

“maybe. i haven’t been home in a pretty long time. i’m sure my mother would enjoy that.” jj mused.

“if we don’t have a case, i think you should go.” emily added.

“i second that. you gotta show everybody how hot you still are.” y/n nodded, as they all settled around her small dinner table.

“well if i go, you two have to go too. what better way to show everyone how hot i am, than to bring my super sexy lovers.” jj pointed with a cheeky wink.

“to pennsylvania?” emily grimaced.

“yes? don’t look so happy about it.” jj rolled her eyes.

“i don’t know, didn’t you grow up on a farm or something?” emily continued.

“not on the farm, near yes. you’re acting like im gonna make you milk a cow and churn your own butter.”

“didn’t reid say you were corn fed once? is that not what that means?” emily questioned.

“can i wear cowgirl boots? i don’t have any but i wanna buy some.” y/n asked turning to jj.

“obviously neither of you have ever been to pennsylvania.” jj shook her head.

“right, but cowgirl boots. yay or nay?”

“i vote yes. i think you’d look hot.” emily voted.

jj sighed with a smile and shook her head, “god, i hope we get to go to this reunion.”

-

luck was surprisingly on jj’s side and she and her girlfriends were pulling up to her childhood home in East Allegheny early thursday morning.

jj put the car in park and slid out first and sighed as she gazed over her childhood home. y/n hopped out of the backseat, feet covered by the red leather cowgirl boots she just bought. emily slid out last, sunglasses blocking the sun and a soft flush from the morning heat.

“welcome to east allegheny.” jj smiled turning to face both women.

“how exciting! pennsylvania.” emily teasingly cheered, causing jj to roll her eyes.

“it is giving corn fed.” y/n spoke quietly as emily leaned into her side.

“oh shut up! you two are the worst.” jj pouted.

“we’re kidding we’re kidding!” y/n protested moving to wrap her arms around jj’s neck and pull her close. “we’re so excited to learn more about country living babe.” y/n grinned before puckering her lips in a silent request.

“mmhmm, you’re definitely dressed for country living.” jj teased, meeting y/n’s lips sweetly.

“just be glad, em wouldn’t let me wear my hat. i think it looked adorable.”

“adorable yes. i agree. but i think it was a little too on the nose.maybe save that for texas or something.”

“hater.” y/n rolled her eyes before hissing as emily pinched her bum in retaliation.

“alright you two, behave. my mom’s waiting inside and i’ve got a whole day of east allegheny things i wanna show you.” jj scolded.

“yes ma’am.” emily and y/n said in unison with giggles on their tongue. emily grabbed their weekend bags and followed behind jj and y/n as they headed for the house. as soon as the first stair creaked— the door flew open and revealed sandy jareau.

“hey mom.” jj smiled softly at her mother through the screen door. their relationship had definitely been strained in the past but sandy seemed to finally be accepting her daughter for who she was and who she loved.

“morning jenny. come on in girls. i just finished breakfast.” sandy corralled leaning to kiss jj’s cheek as she pasted through the door. both y/n and emily followed suit and smiled politely at their host. jj leads the way through the hall of her childhood, breezing past the soccer pictures and family portraits on the wall. but unfortunately for her— her girlfriends were not breezing past anything.

“oh my god, is that jj?” y/n asked on an excited gasp. jj groaned and turned to see where the younger woman had stopped in the hall. she shook her head solemnly when she realized she had stopped at the top of the hallway.

“oh yeah, little jenny.” sandy smiled over the younger woman’s shoulder. “i’ve got the pictures situated chronologically as you go further up the hallway. she’d just lost her first tooth.”

“oh i just wanna pinch those cheeks!” y/n grinned pulling her phone out to snap a picture to keep.

“i’ll have to get the album out before y’all head back.” sandy smiled heading toward the kitchen.

“oh god, don’t enable her. there’s no telling what she’ll do with those pictures.” jj whined.

“no no, don’t listen to her. mrs. jareau, i need to see every baby picture of jj you have in this house.” y/n called as she stuck her tongue out at jj teasingly.

emily hid her laughter behind her hand and placed her hands on y/n’s waist to guide her toward the kitchen of the small home. jj followed behind rolling her eyes at the giddy look on all the women’s faces.

-

“are we taking the truck? please say we’re taking the truck.” y/n bounced at the bottom of the steps looking up at jj. they’d all cleaned their plates and thanked sandy and now jj had a day of ‘country living’ planned for her two girlfriends.

“i kinda wanna see you drive a truck as well. is there a hat you’ll wear as well?” emily joined y/n at the bottom of the stares.

“oh it’d be so hot.” y/n mused bringing her hands up to pull on jj’s arm impatiently.

jj’s eyes moved from emily’s teasing smirk and y/n’s pleading pout and couldn’t help but grin under their attention. allowing the younger woman to pull her into her side, she placed a chaste kiss on her pouting lips. “fine fine, we’ll take the truck. since it’s in such popular demand.”

y/n cheered happily and made a beeline for the old red truck parked under the tree leaving emily and jj to watch her go. emily slung her arm over jj’s shoulder with a laugh, “she’s loving this way more than i thought she would.”

“wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a thing for cowgirls.” jj said bumping her hip against emily’s.

“oh for sure.” emily agreed with a laugh. they watched as y/n climbed into the bed of the truck and turned to face them.

“can i ride in the back? i wanna feel the country wind in my hair.”

“no.” both emily and jj vetoed in unison.

“aww you guys are no fun.” y/n pouted but knew they weren’t changing their minds.

-

“emily!” jj called with her hands held out in warning.

“what?!” emily paused in her step.

“your foot is hovering over a huge pile of shit. and i know how many you’re going to be if you step in that.” jj pointed.

“oh yeah that’d be so gross. we’d make you ride in the bed of the truck.” y/n nodded turning to look at the poop in question. “oh my god— what kinda animal did that?”

jj laughed with a shake of a head and turned y/n back toward the way they were walking. “the horses.”

“have i been that obvious about my cowgirl thing?” y/n asked eyeing both emily and jj.

“we assumed but the look in your eyes confirmed everything we were thinking.” emily shrugged with a knowing smirk.

y/n nodded in acceptance before turning to face jj, “in that case, i need to see you up on that steed, now.”

“i can’t believe you just said steed.” emily deadpanned.

-

after spending the day on her grandfathers farm, jj pulled the truck into the only small parking lot lit up. it was about 9pm and east allegheny had fully transitioned into night life mode. which in a small town means going to ‘the hidey hole’ for darts, beers, line dancing, and fried onion blossoms.

jj slid out of the truck first and emily followed from the passenger door. after refusing to let y/n ride in the bed of the truck, she insisted on being squished between them in the front. with both women out of the truck, she scooted her way to the edge of the driver’s side and hopped into jj’s waiting arms.

“i think we should get a truck.” she smiled dreamily as jj placed her on the ground.

“you’re only saying that because you’ve been wedged between us all day.” jj shook her head in amusement.

“well yes, but think of the easy access a truck allows.” y/n grinned mischievously.

emily blew a huff through her nose as she rounded the truck and stepped behind jj, caging the blonde between them. “now she makes a very good point. i think we should hear her out.”

jj’s cheeks reddened and her eyes rolled, “you two are trouble. i’m starting to regret bringing you both here.” y/n and emily laughed joyously before both kissing one of jj’s cheeks affectionately and releasing her.

they all filed into the bar and nabbed a tall table in the corner. with both y/n and emily seated, jj nodded her head toward the bar. “i’m gonna go get us some drinks and an onion blossom.”

“an onion what?” emily asked as jj walked away.

“i have no idea. i can’t lie though, i’m kinda excited.” y/n clapped happily. jj returned shortly with three beers wedged between her fingers and a plate of fried deliciousness.

“oh it’s definitely giving corn fed.” y/n grinned, pulling the onion blossom toward her side of the table eagerly.

-

“baby, why’s your face on the wall?” y/n asked as she and jj set up for a darts game.

“oh no reason—“ jj started to deflect but was quickly interrupted by a bumbling gruff guy leaning against the wall near them. “she’s the only person who’s ever gotten a single treble 20 in this town.”

y/n looked between the man and jj incredulously, “so you’re basically famous?”

jj shook her head with a smitten grin and the guy nodded his head in agreement. “she’s hidey hole royalty.”

“oh my god, em! jj’s royalty! come take my picture with her picture.” y/n called across the bar— much to jj’s dismay. she was positive those beers were finally hitting her girlfriend and she couldn’t help but to laugh as she watched her pose with the framed photo on the wall.

-

full of cheap beer and love, jj stopped the rusty truck in the backyard of her house. with the car in park she turned to her girlfriends with a smile. “wait here, i’ll be right back.” she darted up the back porch and quietly opened the screen door to enter. y/n and emily watched her go, but stayed put as they’d been told. when jj reemerged she was carrying piles of pillows and dragging blankets behind her. she threw them into the bed of the truck and pulled herself over the edge to situate everything comfortably. once the blankets were placed to her liking, she knocked on the back window and motioned for both women to join her.

“i can’t believe i ate something called an onion blossom.” emily groaned as she shuffled closer to y/n’s side.

“i can’t believe you wouldn’t line dance with us. that was a once in a lifetime experience.” y/n grumbled.

“you get so much more dramatic when you drink.” emily spoke into the younger woman’s hairline.

“you got a problem with that?” y/n asked feigning aggression.

“quiet you two, or i’ll ground you both.” jj reprimanded teasingly, eyes trained on the star filled sky. they all dissolved into giggles, feeling so light and so full of love that they couldn’t contain it. when they quieted down jj spoke softly. “when i was younger my grandfather would set up the truck like this for ros and i every weekend. it was my favorite part of the week.” y/n pulled jj closer as they quietly listened to her story. “it’s probably one of the things i miss the most about her. it was like our special time together. we didn’t argue, she wasn’t completely annoyed by my presence and it was our sister time.”

emily reached across y/n to twine her and jj’s fingers in support. “you know that reminds me of my summers in paris with my grandfather in his isolated cabin. we’d spend the day hiking and fishing. and end the night in a hammock identifying constellations.” emily recalled.

“i know you’ve both been together for so long, but i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of getting to know you both.” y/n smiled up at the stars squeezing both emily and jj affectionately. they hummed happily and enjoyed the clear night sky. a true perk of country living.

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Tim Drake probably got into fights at school, but he didn't start the fights, he'd finish them. He'd also get away scott free.

People think that they can ruin the Drake's name with their kid getting into fights and causing problems, but no. They encourage him to do these.

Janet had a firm stance in her belief to have the upper hand, so he'd never get in trouble, because she'd blackmail and/or grill into the principal so hard they had to let him go and give the other kid(s) punishment.

Jack had one solid rule, don't start a fight, finish it, and always win. He enforced it by having occasional spars with Tim whenever he could and signed Tim up for all kinds of martial arts to make sure he knew how to fight.

Janet signed him up for whatever else extracurriculars he wanted(ballet, gymnastics, theater, art, vocal coaching, instruments, figure skating, track, etc.).

So just imagine, Tim Drake, publicly known to get into and win so many fights but with no prior context is seen as a trouble maker till they see how well behaved he is. They talk badly about him though, how much of a bad kid little Tim Drake who physically looks like his father but has the face and acts exactly like Janet when he speaks and leads.

And then his parents die and he doesn't cry. They think he's an even horrible kid for not caring about his parents' death even though he's torn.

And then he becomes a Wayne and his reputation, which only Alfred and Bruce know, brings the Wayne name down.

And then he becomes CEO of Wayne Enterprises and everyone expects him to be just like Bruce. What they don't expect is Janet Drake 2.0 when it comes to getting his way and the way he acts or Jack Drake 2.0 with his outstanding leadership and ideas and proposals and what not.

When the rest of the Waynes find out about his reputation, they don't believe it till they see it for themselves.

It's probably at a gala or some sorts. A socialite is being inherently racist towards Damian and talking about how bad of a kid he is. Tim is not standing for it.

"Oh I'm sorry!" he says just a but too loudly to get the attention if everyone in the place, "Would you care to finish that vile comment about my brother? That he was a what now."

"I do, in fact. Perhaps after everyone hears this you Waynes will do better to control that little devil and his unnatural brow-"

The socialite doesn't even get to finish his sentence when Tim karate chops their neck, making them choke(literally) in their own words.

"Oh what was that? Did someone who is actively cheating on their own wife with the underage heir of another company be racist towards my underage and tri-racial brother? Sorry? Did a pedophile defiling the 15 year old daughter of the Miller's family say my 11 year old brother's skin was the sign of the devil? Hm?"

No one says a word, even as they watch Tim twist his words and spill out every secret and dirty fact about the socialite.

They don't even stop him as they watch him beat the crap out of the person with out even trying when said person tries to throw hands with Timothey Jackson Drake, publicly known for getting into fights and winning as well as being graduated from every martial arts class in Gotham ever.

Police were involved, headlines were made, the Miller heir was no longer seen in public and her younger sibling was pronounced heir, and Tim Drake, not Wayne, got off without a scratch, repercussion, or warning.

Damian has never felt an older siblings' loving protection more than he did when he saw Tim grill that socialite. He s never felt more respect for the guy before. And suddenly Dick was lower on the sibling scale.

He was lower on the sibling scale for everyone. Good by #1 sibling Dick Grayson and hello Tim Drake.

Have a problem? Someone's mean or is picking a fight? Don't worry, Tim Drake's there.

Drake is more noticeable than Wayne when it comes to Tim, and everyone finds it out the hard way.