#I had finally mostly gotten over it and then he decided to call

[heartoftheancientsea]

It’s so disturbing how unsure of myself I am whenever I have to make a difficult decision that prioritizes my own wellbeing and values. I continue to break my own heart by wondering if I made the wrong choice even though I didn’t.

[pucksandpower]

Car Trouble

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which it starts with Max insisting that you borrow one of his many cars while yours is in the shop and somehow turns into you being dragged away in handcuffs because (according to your jealous housemates) the only way you could ever afford a car like that is by having stolen it … suffice to say, your protective boyfriend is less than amused

Warnings: law enforcement abuse of power

The thing is, you know it’s a gamble the moment you put the key in the ignition. Your little car, a 2004 Fiat Panda with a chipped paint job and a suspiciously rattling exhaust, has been teetering on the edge for months. But it’s all you have, and it’s gotten you this far.

Except now, as you sit in Max’s driveway, the dashboard flickers ominously, a banner of orange warning lights. You groan, lean your head against the steering wheel, and curse under your breath. Maybe it’s the alternator. Or the battery. Or the car’s just finally decided it’s had enough.

Max is at his kitchen window, a mug of coffee in hand, his eyes narrowing as he watches you. He steps out, still in his Red Bull Racing hoodie, hair a mess, and jogs over. You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth before he’s leaning down, peering through your open window.

“Car trouble?” He asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Take a wild guess,” you mutter, throwing your hands up.

He chuckles, low and warm. “Let me have a look.”

He gestures for you to pop the hood, and you do, reluctantly. Max circles around, lifting it with a practiced ease, his brow furrowing as he inspects the engine. You know he’s not a mechanic, but he knows enough to recognize that it’s bad news.

“I think it’s, um, all of it,” he says, voice laced with amusement. He looks up at you. “You really drove all the way here like this?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say defensively. “It was fine when I left. Mostly.”

Max gives you a pointed look but lets it slide. He straightens up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and nods toward the house. “Come on. I’ll call someone to get it towed.”

You hesitate. “Max, I can-”

“I know you can,” he interrupts gently, eyes locking with yours. “But why should you?”

He has this way of cutting through your defenses with a single look, and it’s infuriating. You sigh, climbing out of the car and slamming the door shut. Max winces, raising an eyebrow.

“Easy. I think she’s suffered enough,” he teases.

You glare at him, but he’s already dialing a number, one hand braced on his hip, the other holding the phone to his ear. He’s so calm, so unbothered, like this is just another Friday, and your car isn’t smoking in his driveway. It makes you feel small, somehow, and a little embarrassed.

“Hey, mate. Got a Fiat here that needs towing. Yeah, looks pretty bad. Can you get someone here today?” Max pauses, glancing at you, then back to the ground. “Nah, it’s not mine. It’s my girlfriend’s.”

The word hangs in the air, filling the space between you. It’s not the first time he’s called you that, but every time he does, it sends a little thrill through you. You shove your hands into your pockets, kicking at the gravel with the toe of your shoe as he finishes up the call.

“Right,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “They’ll be here in an hour or so. Want to come inside?”

You nod, following him up the steps and into the house. It’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. Max leads you to the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air. He pours you a cup without asking, handing it to you as you sink into a chair.

“So,” he begins, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s your plan?”

You shrug. “Get it fixed, I guess. If it’s even worth fixing.”

“It’s not,” he says bluntly. “That thing’s a death trap.”

You know he’s right, but hearing it out loud stings. “I can’t just buy a new car, Max.”

“I’m not saying you should,” he replies, voice softening. “But you can’t keep driving that. It’s not safe.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that makes you feel like you should say something, but you don’t know what. Max watches you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in your head. He always does that — wants to fix everything, make it all better. And it’s sweet, but sometimes, it’s exhausting.

“Look, I have an idea,” he says finally, pushing off the counter and walking over to you. “You can use one of my cars until yours is sorted.”

You blink up at him. “Max, I can’t-”

“You can,” he insists, a determined edge to his voice. “And you will. You need a car, and I have plenty. It makes sense.”

“It’s too much,” you protest, shaking your head. “I can’t just borrow one of your cars like it’s no big deal.”

“It is no big deal,” he counters, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s a car. I have, like, a dozen of them. And I want you to be safe.”

The logic is sound, but it still feels wrong. You open your mouth to argue, but Max holds up a hand.

“Let me finish,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re here for the weekend, right? We’ll get your car towed to a shop, see what they say. In the meantime, you use one of mine. If they can’t fix it, we’ll figure something else out.”

“Max-”

“No arguments,” he interrupts again, smiling faintly. “Please. For me.”

You huff, staring down at your coffee like it might provide some kind of answer. When you look up, Max is still watching you, his expression soft and earnest. He’s not going to let this go, you realize. And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

“Which one?” You ask, finally relenting.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “The DBS.”

Your eyes widen. “The Aston Martin?”

He nods, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Yep.”

“You’re insane,” you say flatly. “I can’t drive that.”

“Sure, you can. I’ll teach you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?” He steps closer, dropping to a crouch in front of you so you’re eye to eye. “That you don’t want to accept help from your boyfriend? Because, if that’s it, we’re going to have a problem.”

His words catch you off guard, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want you to have it. Just until you’re sorted.”

You let out a long breath, your shoulders sagging as the fight leaves you. “Fine. But I’m not keeping it.”

“Deal,” he says instantly, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

There’s a beat of quiet as he stands, pulling out his phone again. He’s about to dial when you speak up.

“Wait.”

He pauses, glancing at you. “Yeah?”

You chew on your bottom lip, considering your next words carefully. “Are you sure? I don’t want to scratch it or-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, voice gentle. “It’s a car not a piece of priceless china. It’ll be fine.”

His nonchalance is almost infuriating, but you can’t help the way your heart swells at his unwavering confidence in you. He believes in you, even when you don’t.

“Okay,” you whisper, and it’s like something shifts in the air between you. Max’s gaze softens, and he reaches out, squeezing your hand.

“Good. Now, let’s go get the keys.”

***

It’s raining, and the house smells like damp clothes and stale toast. Chloe stands by the living room window, holding her cup of tea, her gaze idly drifting over the dreary street. The drizzling rain matches her mood, which is sour on a good day and worse now that she’s been stuck inside with a mountain of uni work she has no interest in.

A sigh escapes her lips, louder than she means it to, but no one’s around to hear. Her housemates — well, most of them — are scattered across campus, probably doing something useful with their lives. And then there’s you. Always flitting in and out with your head held high, like you’re too good for this dump of a house.

Chloe rolls her eyes at the thought of you. She’s been harboring this quiet disdain ever since you moved in. It’s irrational, she knows that. You haven’t done anything to her, not really. But there’s something about the way you carry yourself, always so composed, so put together, that grates on her nerves. And lately, you’ve been acting … different. Happier, even. Chloe’s seen you, the way you disappear for the weekends, only to return with that smug smile. It’s not hard to guess why.

Chloe knows you have a boyfriend, though you’ve been annoyingly tight-lipped about it. She’s overheard snippets of conversation, seen the texts you try to hide when someone else walks into the room. But still, she can’t figure out why you’re with someone who clearly has money. A lot of money. The kind of money girls like you — girls like them — don’t get near unless there’s some major luck involved.

As she stares out the window, she suddenly sees something that makes her pause. Her tea sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the mug as her hand freezes. There, pulling into the lot, is an Aston Martin. Glossy, sleek, and roaring like a mechanical beast as it glides through the rain. The headlights cut through the fog, and the car comes to a slow, calculated stop directly in front of their house.

Chloe’s brow furrows, her pulse quickening. What in the world …

She watches, transfixed, as the driver’s door opens, and you step out, closing the door behind you like it’s no big deal. You glance around the street, pulling the collar of your jacket higher against the rain, completely oblivious to the fact that Chloe is practically burning a hole through the window with her gaze.

“What the hell?” Chloe breathes, her voice sharp in the stillness of the room.

Her eyes narrow as you cross the street, keys jingling in your hand, moving with an air of confidence that has no right to belong to someone pulling up in a car like that. Chloe watches every step, every casual flick of your wrist as you lock the car and walk toward the front door.

She should turn away, pretend she didn’t see anything, but her brain is spinning, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. That’s a three-hundred-thousand-pound car. You can barely afford rent, let alone something like that. Her mind races with the only plausible explanation — there’s no way in hell that car belongs to you.

Chloe slams her cup down on the coffee table, not caring that it splashes tea everywhere, and darts toward the stairs. She takes them two at a time, bursting into her flatmate Amelia’s room without knocking.

“Amelia! You won’t believe this.”

Amelia looks up from her laptop, startled. “Chloe, what the-”

“Come here. Now.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, spinning on her heel and rushing back down the stairs, Amelia reluctantly trailing after her. Chloe pulls her toward the window, jabbing a finger in the direction of the car still parked outside.

“Look,” she says breathlessly, her words tumbling out too fast. “Look at that.”

Amelia leans closer to the window, blinking at the car through the rain-streaked glass. “Is that an Aston Martin?”

“Exactly.” Chloe’s voice is a mix of disbelief and something darker. “And guess who just stepped out of it?”

Amelia frowns, her brow creasing. “No way. You’re joking.”

“I’m dead serious. She just parked it like she owns the place. What the hell is going on?”

Amelia lets out a low whistle, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, that’s … that’s not normal.”

Chloe folds her arms, pacing the length of the room now. “She’s probably stolen it. I mean, there’s no way she could afford something like that. Do you know how much that car’s worth?”

Amelia shakes her head slowly, eyes still glued to the car outside. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s her boyfriend’s?”

“That’s what I thought,” Chloe snaps, “but come on, who does she know that has that kind of money? I don’t care who her boyfriend is, something’s off.”

They both fall silent for a moment, the only sound the rain tapping against the window. Chloe’s mind races, jumping to conclusions faster than she can keep up. Everything about this feels wrong. She’s always suspected there was something up with you, but this? This is something else entirely.

Amelia breaks the silence, her voice hesitant. “Maybe she’s just lucky? I mean, maybe he’s, like, rich-rich. You know?”

Chloe scoffs. “No one gets that lucky. And she’s been acting so secretive lately. What if she’s involved in something shady? I mean, who just pulls up in a car like that?”

Amelia shrugs, clearly unsure how to respond. But Chloe’s not done. There’s a fire in her now, a burning need to know what’s going on. You’ve always been too quiet, too private, and now it’s all starting to make sense. There’s no way you’re as innocent as you pretend to be.

She whirls back around to Amelia, eyes blazing. “You know what? I’m going to call the police.”

“What?” Amelia’s eyes widen in shock. “Chloe, are you serious? You can’t just-”

“Yes, I can,” Chloe cuts her off, already reaching for her phone. “She’s clearly up to something, and I’m not going to sit here and let her get away with it.”

Amelia tries to protest, but Chloe’s mind is already made up. Her fingers fly across her phone screen, dialing the non-emergency number. Her heart pounds in her chest as the call connects, and she presses the phone to her ear, pacing as she waits for someone to pick up.

“Chloe, this is crazy,” Amelia says again, her voice laced with anxiety. “You don’t even know-”

“Shh!” Chloe hisses, waving a hand to silence her.

Finally, the line clicks, and a calm voice greets her. “Thames Valley Police, how can I help you?”

Chloe takes a deep breath, her voice steady as she launches into her story. “Hi, I’m calling to report a suspicious vehicle. It’s parked outside my house, and I’m pretty sure it’s been stolen.”

The operator asks for details, and Chloe rattles off the make and model of the car, her eyes never leaving the Aston Martin still parked outside. She glances at Amelia, who’s biting her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation, but Chloe’s too far gone to care.

“I just … I know the girl who’s driving it, and there’s no way she could afford a car like that,” Chloe explains, her tone sharp. “I think she might have stolen it.”

The operator asks a few more questions, and Chloe answers each one with growing confidence. She can feel it in her bones — something’s off, and she’s not about to let it slide.

When the call ends, Chloe lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her hands shaking slightly as she lowers her phone.

“Chloe, you didn’t have to do that,” Amelia says quietly, her voice full of worry. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not wrong,” Chloe insists, her jaw clenched. “You’ll see. The police will sort it out.”

She turns back to the window, her eyes narrowing as she watches the car, half-expecting something to happen. But nothing does. The car sits there, pristine and out of place, mocking her with its sheer audacity.

And you? You have no idea what’s coming.

***

It’s supposed to be a quiet afternoon — one of those rare breaks between classes when you can actually catch your breath. The rain’s let up, and a misty sun filters through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the pavement outside. You’re halfway up the stairs to your room, your backpack slung over one shoulder, when there’s a loud knock on the door.

The sound is sharp, authoritative, and it echoes through the house, stopping you in your tracks. You glance down, frowning slightly. It’s not like you’re expecting anyone, and the others aren’t home yet. Maybe it’s just a delivery.

But then the knocking comes again — louder, more insistent. Your unease deepens as you drop your bag and head back down the stairs. By the time you reach the door, a faint prickle of anxiety is buzzing under your skin.

You pull the door open, and there they are — two uniformed officers standing on the doorstep. They look serious, their expressions neutral but firm, and you feel your heart sink. This isn’t a casual visit.

“Can I help you?” Your voice is steady, though confusion laces each word.

One of the officers, a tall woman with cropped brown hair and a no-nonsense gaze, steps forward. “Are you the owner of the Aston Martin parked outside?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Um, no,” you say, blinking at them. “It’s not mine, but-”

“We’re going to have to ask you to step outside, please,” the other officer, a man with a stern jawline and dark eyes, interrupts. He glances over your shoulder, as if assessing whether you’re alone.

“What’s this about?” You can hear the uncertainty in your voice now, a sharp edge creeping in. “The car belongs to my boyfriend. I’m just borrowing it-”

“Step outside, miss,” the woman repeats, her tone brooking no argument.

Swallowing hard, you do as you’re told, stepping out onto the front stoop. The chill of the autumn air hits you, and you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively. This isn’t making any sense.

“I don’t understand,” you say again, a little louder this time. “What’s going on?”

The officers exchange a look, and then the man speaks. “We received a report that the vehicle may have been stolen. We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Stolen?” The word feels foreign on your tongue. “No, it’s not stolen! I told you, it belongs to my boyfriend-”

“Do you have any proof of ownership?” the woman asks sharply, cutting you off. “Registration documents, anything like that?”

You open your mouth, then close it, frustration building. “The registration is in the glove compartment. If you just let me get it-”

“Stay where you are,” the man says firmly, holding up a hand to stop you. “We’ll check it ourselves.”

“Can’t you just let me show you?” You take a step forward, but both officers tense, their hands hovering near their belts. Your heart stutters in your chest, a cold trickle of fear sliding down your spine. “I’m telling the truth! I can unlock the car and show you. Please, just let me-”

“Miss, please calm down,” the woman says, her tone laced with a warning. “We’re following protocol here. If you cooperate, this will go much smoother.”

“But I am cooperating!” The words burst out, your voice rising despite yourself. “I’m not lying. It’s my boyfriend’s car, he let me borrow it while mine is in the shop-”

“Miss, we need you to step away from the vehicle,” the man says again, more forcefully this time. He pulls out a small notepad, flipping it open. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

You hesitate, caught off guard. “Max,” you say finally, your voice faltering slightly. “Max Verstappen.”

There’s a pause — one that stretches uncomfortably long. The officers exchange another look, something almost skeptical passing between them.

“Right,” the woman says slowly, like she’s testing the words in her mouth. “And you expect us to believe that Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 driver, lent you his Aston Martin?”

“Yes!” Your hands are shaking now, anger and disbelief mixing with fear in a volatile cocktail. “Why would I lie about that? Just let me-”

“Miss,” the man interrupts, his tone hardening. “We need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

The words hit you like a slap, knocking the breath from your lungs. “What? No, you can’t-”

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back,” he repeats, each word clipped and precise.

You look from him to the woman, desperation clawing at your throat. “Please, just let me open the car. I can prove it’s not stolen. Please-”

But they’re not listening. Before you can say another word, the woman steps forward, reaching for your arm. You flinch back instinctively, panic flaring in your chest.

“Don’t-”

“Miss, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” the woman says sharply, grabbing your wrist with practiced ease. She spins you around, her grip firm but not painful, and then you feel the cold, unforgiving bite of metal as she snaps a pair of handcuffs around your wrists.

“No, wait-” You twist, struggling against her hold, but it’s useless. The cuffs dig into your skin, and you can’t breathe, can’t think.

“Please, I didn’t do anything! You’re making a mistake!”

The man steps closer, his face impassive. “You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence …”

His voice blurs, the words running together in a nauseating hum. You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “No, no, please, I didn’t steal anything! Just call Max, he’ll explain-”

“Miss, we’re taking you down to the station,” the woman says, steering you away from the house and toward their patrol car parked at the curb. “We’ll sort this out there.”

“Wait!” You stumble, the cuffs biting into your wrists as they push you forward. “You’re not listening! The car isn’t stolen! If you just let me get the registration-”

But they ignore you, their grips unyielding. The street seems to tilt and blur as they guide you toward the back of the car, your shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. Everything feels surreal, like you’ve been dropped into a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

The woman opens the back door, and the man gives you a gentle but firm shove. You fall into the seat, the leather cold against your legs. They close the door with a solid thunk, the sound reverberating through your bones.

“Please,” you whisper, leaning forward as much as the cuffs allow. “You’re making a mistake. I’m telling the truth …”

But they’re already walking away, their voices low as they talk to each other. You catch fragments of their conversation — words like “protocol” and “standard procedure” — but it all feels distant, unreal.

You slump back in the seat, staring blankly out the window as the patrol car starts up, the engine a low, steady hum. The world outside blurs into a swirl of gray and green as they pull away from the curb, and your mind races, panic and disbelief tangling together in a messy knot.

How did this happen? One minute you were heading to your room, and now you’re being carted off to a police station like some sort of criminal. It doesn’t make any sense.

You try to replay the last few minutes in your head, searching for something — anything — you could have said or done differently. But there’s nothing. They weren’t listening to you. They didn’t care about your explanation. They just saw a girl with an expensive car and decided you must be guilty of something.

Tears prick your eyes again, and you blink them back furiously. You can’t fall apart now. You have to think, to figure out what to do next.

Max. You need to call Max. He’ll sort this out. He’ll tell them the truth, and they’ll have to let you go. But how are you supposed to do that when they’ve got you locked up in the back of a patrol car?

The drive to the station feels like it takes forever, each second dragging out in painful clarity. You try to keep calm, to breathe through the panic tightening in your chest, but it’s hard when every bump in the road makes the cuffs dig deeper into your skin.

Finally, they pull up in front of the station, and the officers get out, coming around to your side. The door opens, and the woman leans down, her expression unreadable.

“Come on, miss. Let’s get this sorted out.”

You nod numbly, letting them help you out of the car. Your legs feel shaky, your whole body trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. They lead you up the steps, through the front doors, and into a small, sterile room that smells faintly of disinfectant.

“Please,” you say one last time, your voice breaking. “Please, just call him. He’ll explain everything.”

But they only exchange another glance, and the woman shakes her head slightly. “Let’s get your statement first, miss.”

And then they’re sitting you down, the lights glaring down from above, the cuffs still biting into your wrists. And all you can do is sit there, your heart pounding in your chest, as the nightmare continues to unfold around you.

***

The fluorescent lights above hum softly, the cold, sterile environment of the police station pressing down on you from every angle. It feels like you’ve been here for hours, your wrists still red from the handcuffs, a dull ache in your joints from sitting on the hard chair. Every second stretches, torturing you with the weight of waiting.

You're trying to stay calm, but your thoughts keep spiraling — back to the car, back to the police showing up at your doorstep, back to the way they refused to listen. Your voice shakes every time you try to explain, but it’s like they can’t hear you. It’s suffocating.

Across the room, the officer — her name’s Thompson, you think — sits at her desk, flipping through some paperwork. The sound of pages turning feels louder than it should. Every time you shift in your seat, she gives you this look, like she’s annoyed by your very presence. Like she’s waiting for you to break.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore.

“I want to make a phone call,” you say, your voice cutting through the stillness. You sit up straighter, your hands balled into fists on your lap.

Thompson doesn’t even look up. “You’ll get your chance,” she says dismissively, still flipping through the file.

“No,” you say, firmer this time. “I want to make it now. I have the right to make a phone call.”

This time, she looks up, her expression flat. “You’ll have to wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough,” you snap, surprising yourself with the force in your voice. Your patience is gone, the fear of being trapped in this nightmare pushing you into desperation. “I know my rights. I’m allowed one phone call, and I want to make it.”

Thompson raises an eyebrow, like she’s weighing whether or not you’re serious. After a beat, she sighs, pushing the stack of papers aside and standing. “Fine,” she says curtly. “One phone call.”

She leads you to a small side room — bare, with only a table, a chair, and a landline phone sitting in the middle. You sit down, and Thompson places the phone in front of you like it’s some kind of offering.

“One call,” she says again, her eyes narrowing. “Make it count.”

You don’t hesitate. You dial Max’s number, your fingers trembling slightly as you press the buttons. The ring tone fills the room, each ring stretching out the time between your breaths. You press the phone closer to your ear, your heart pounding.

It rings once. Twice. And then-

“Hello?”

Max’s voice comes through the line, smooth and steady, as if he’s just woken up from a nap and isn’t even remotely phased by the sudden call. But you know him better than that — there’s a sharp edge beneath the surface, a protective tension that’s always there when it comes to you.

You swallow hard, fighting back the lump in your throat. “Max …”

There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his tone shifts — serious, focused. “What’s wrong?”

“They arrested me,” you say, the words rushing out before you can stop them. “The police — they think I stole your car.”

There’s silence on the other end, just for a second. Then his voice drops, low and dangerous. “What?”

You feel the weight of his anger through the phone, and for the first time since this nightmare began, you feel a flicker of relief. He’s going to fix this. He’s not going to let them treat you like this.

“They showed up at the house,” you explain, your voice trembling slightly. “They wouldn’t let me get the registration. They didn’t believe me when I said the car was yours. They just-”

“Where are you?” His voice cuts through your explanation, sharp and commanding. “Which station?”

You glance around the room. “Bedfordshire Police Station. They won’t let me-”

“Stay where you are,” he says, his voice brooking no argument. “Don’t talk to anyone else. I’m on my way.”

The line goes dead before you can respond, the dial tone ringing in your ears. You stare at the phone for a moment, your heart racing. You know Max is angry — no, furious — but that anger isn’t directed at you. It’s for them, the people who put you in this position.

Thompson steps back into the room, her expression unreadable. “Finished?”

You nod, handing the phone back. She doesn’t say anything as she leads you back to the main room, but you can feel her eyes on you, judging, assessing.

You sit down again, your legs shaky, but now there’s a quiet fire burning in your chest. Max is coming. He’s going to make this right.

The minutes tick by, painfully slow. Thompson goes back to her paperwork, the other officers moving around the station like it’s just another day. But for you, every second is excruciating, the tension building in your chest like a storm.

Then, finally, the door to the station swings open with a heavy thud, and you hear the low murmur of voices — followed by a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

Max.

You can’t see him from where you’re sitting, but you can feel the shift in the room. There’s a sudden stillness, the officers glancing up from their desks, their postures stiffening. Even Thompson’s face changes, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she composes herself.

You strain to hear the conversation at the front desk, but it’s muffled. Still, you catch bits and pieces — his name, the car, your name. And then there’s the sharp, unmistakable edge of authority in Max’s voice as he says something that makes the desk officer sit up a little straighter.

Moments later, the door to the holding area swings open, and there he is. Max strides in, every movement purposeful, his eyes locking onto you immediately. There’s a fire in his gaze — controlled, but fierce — and the tension in his jaw tells you everything you need to know.

He’s not just angry. He’s livid.

“Max …” Your voice is small, a mixture of relief and shame. You hadn’t wanted to drag him into this mess, but you also know that no one else could’ve handled it the way he can.

He crosses the room in a few quick strides, his hand reaching for yours. “Are you okay?” His voice is low, steady, but you can hear the tightness underneath it.

You nod, but tears prick at your eyes. “I-I didn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t listen to me …”

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve got it from here.” His tone is resolute, his eyes never leaving yours.

Then, without another word to you, Max turns to face the officers. His entire demeanor shifts, his posture straightening, his presence filling the room with an air of control that demands respect.

“Who’s in charge here?” He asks, his voice calm but unmistakably authoritative.

Thompson steps forward, though there’s a flicker of hesitation in her movements. “I am,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Officer Thompson.”

Max doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You arrested my girlfriend under suspicion of theft. I’d like to see the evidence you have for that.”

Thompson falters, her eyes flicking over to the other officers. “We … we received a report of a stolen vehicle, and-”

“And instead of verifying the ownership, you decided to arrest her?” Max’s voice is cold, each word measured. “Did you even check the registration in the glove compartment?”

Thompson’s jaw tightens. “We were following standard procedure. She became agitated and-”

“She was agitated because you were treating her like a criminal,” Max cuts in, his tone sharp. “You had no reason to arrest her. If you had checked the registration, you would’ve seen my name on it.”

He takes a step closer, his presence towering over Thompson, making her shift uneasily on her feet. “Do you know who I am?”

There’s a beat of silence. The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

Thompson nods slowly. “Yes. Mr. Verstappen, we-”

“Then you know how much trouble you’re in,” Max says, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. “You’re going to release her. Now. And then you’re going to issue a formal apology.”

Thompson blinks, clearly taken aback by his bluntness. “Mr. Verstappen, I understand your frustration, but we were simply-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Max interrupts, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. “You’ve already made a mess of this situation. Don’t make it worse by pretending this was some kind of mistake. You arrested her because you assumed she didn’t belong in that car. Because you didn’t bother to listen.”

Thompson opens her mouth to argue, but Max doesn’t give her the chance. “I’ll be contacting my legal team,” he says, his tone firm. “And if you don’t release her immediately, I’ll make sure this becomes a very public issue.”

The threat hangs in the air, thick and heavy. Thompson hesitates for a moment longer, and then — finally — she nods.

“Release her,” she says quietly, signaling to one of the other officers.

The relief that washes over you is immediate, your heart pounding in your chest as the handcuffs are removed. Max’s hand is on your shoulder in an instant, grounding you, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he looks down at you. “We’re getting out of here.”

You nod, letting him guide you out of the station. But before you step through the door, you glance back at Thompson, who’s still standing there, her expression strained.

Max pauses, following your gaze. He meets Thompson’s eyes, his expression unreadable. “Don’t ever treat her like that again,” he says quietly, the words carrying more weight than any threat could.

And with that, he leads you out into the cool night air, his arm wrapped protectively around you as you step outside.

***

Max’s fingers are wrapped tightly around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, as he guides you toward his car in the station’s dimly lit parking lot. It’s quieter out here, the cool air thick with the scent of autumn leaves and something sharper — the lingering smell of petrol. The night is still, almost peaceful, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of chaos you’ve just been dragged through.

But Max’s silence is unnerving. He’s holding onto your hand like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

He stops in front of a sleek, black Porsche 911 GT3 RS, the kind of car that turns heads and raises eyebrows. It’s an aggressive machine, all sharp edges and raw power — just like Max right now.

“Get in,” he says, his voice low and controlled, as if he’s holding back a storm. He opens the passenger side door for you, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

You hesitate for a second, looking up at him, trying to gauge his mood. “Max-”

“Get. In,” he repeats, enunciating each word with a finality that leaves no room for argument.

You slip into the passenger seat without another word, the leather cool against your skin. The car’s interior is immaculate, everything in its place, the faint smell of new leather lingering in the air. Max rounds the front of the car and slides into the driver’s seat, his movements tight and controlled. He doesn’t say anything as he starts the engine, the car roaring to life with a low, throaty growl.

He peels out of the parking lot with a precision that feels almost surgical, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his jaw clenched. The silence between you is heavy, charged with an emotion you can’t quite name.

“Max-”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice cuts through the quiet like a blade, sharp and accusing. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel.

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Tell you what?”

“That they arrested you,” he says, each word bitten off like it’s leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “That they-” He breaks off, shaking his head like he can’t even bring himself to say it. “Why didn’t you call me immediately?”

You swallow hard, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I-I didn’t want to worry you. You were probably busy, and-”

“Busy?” He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes flashing as he glances at you. “You think I care about being busy when something like this happens? When you’re involved?”

“Max, I didn’t want you to-”

“To what? Be pissed off? Too late for that,” he snaps, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. He takes a deep breath, his grip on the steering wheel loosening slightly. “What happened, exactly?”

You tell him, your voice halting at first but gaining strength as you recount every detail — the officers showing up, the handcuffs, the questions, the disbelief when you tried to explain the car belonged to him. Max’s expression darkens with each word, his jaw set in a hard line.

“They just … wouldn’t listen,” you finish softly, staring down at your hands. “I told them it was yours. I even tried to show them the registration, but they didn’t care.”

“They didn’t care because they had already made up their minds,” Max growls, his voice a dangerous rumble. “They saw you and assumed you didn’t belong in that car.”

He exhales slowly, trying to steady himself. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to keep his temper in check.

“Why would they think the car was stolen in the first place?” He mutters, more to himself than to you. His fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel, his mind clearly racing.

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Someone must have reported it,” you say slowly, the realization dawning on you as you speak. “Someone must have seen me with it and assumed …”

Max’s gaze snaps to you, sharp and focused. “Who would do that?”

“I-I don’t know.” You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “It could’ve been anyone. The car … it stands out. Maybe someone thought it looked out of place at the house.”

Max’s frown deepens. “No,” he says firmly, his eyes narrowing. “No, it wasn’t just anyone. It was someone who knows you. Someone who knew that wasn’t your car.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and damning. Someone who knew you. Someone who saw you with the Aston Martin. Someone who-

“One of your housemates,” Max says, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur.

You open your mouth to protest, but then you stop, the pieces falling into place in your mind. One of your housemates. One of the people who knows you can’t afford a car like that, who might have thought — wrongly, jealously — that you had gotten your hands on it through some shady means.

Max’s eyes are hard, unyielding. “It has to be,” he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Someone saw you with the car and called the police. There’s no other explanation.”

You take a deep breath, the realization settling in your chest like a lead weight. “But … why would they do that? Why would they assume I stole it?”

“Because people are idiots,” Max mutters, his gaze flicking back to the road. “Because people are jealous. And because they didn’t like seeing you with something they thought you shouldn’t have.”

There’s a bitter edge to his words, and it makes your heart ache. Max has dealt with his share of jealousy, of people looking at him like he doesn’t deserve what he’s earned. He knows what it’s like to be judged, to have assumptions made about him based on nothing but surface impressions.

But this is different. This is personal.

“Whoever did this,” Max says, his voice low and controlled, “is going to regret it.”

Your eyes widen, a pang of fear and something else — something almost like excitement — flaring in your chest. “Max, wait-”

“We’re going to your house,” he continues, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re going to find out who made that call, and I’m going to make sure they understand exactly what kind of trouble they’ve caused.”

“Max, no,” you protest, your voice rising. “You don’t have to do that. I-I can handle it. I’ll talk to them, I’ll-”

“No, you won’t.” He glances at you, his eyes blazing. “You’ve been through enough tonight. I’m handling this.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the look on his face stops you cold. There’s a steely determination in his eyes, an unshakeable resolve that tells you there’s no point in fighting him on this.

He’s already made up his mind.

“Max, please-”

“Enough,” he says softly, but there’s no gentleness in his tone. “I’m not letting them get away with this.”

You fall silent, your heart racing as the car speeds down the quiet, empty streets. The tension in the car is suffocating, but there’s also a strange sense of relief. Relief that he’s here, that he’s taking control, that he’s going to make this right.

You know you should feel bad, should feel guilty for dragging him into this mess. But right now, all you feel is a fierce, overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Max’s hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing through yours, squeezing gently. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his voice softening just a fraction. “I’m going to take care of it.”

You nod, swallowing back the words you want to say — the apologies, the pleas for him not to do anything reckless. Because you know it won’t make a difference. Max is stubborn, determined, protective to a fault. And when it comes to you, he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

The drive to your house feels both too long and too short, every second charged with anticipation. When Max finally pulls up outside your shared house, he cuts the engine and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“Stay in the car,” he says firmly.

You blink, surprised. “What?”

“Stay. In. The. Car.” He enunciates each word with that same controlled intensity, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m going inside.”

“Max, you can’t-”

“I can and I will,” he interrupts, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m not letting you go in there and face them after everything that’s happened tonight.”

He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, soothing gesture. “Just stay here, okay? Let me handle it.”

You want to argue, to tell him it’s not necessary, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s a fierce protectiveness there, a determination that makes your chest tighten.

“Max …”

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice softening. “Just this once. Let me take care of it.”

You hesitate, then nod slowly. “Okay.”

He leans forward, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before pulling back. “Good.”

And with that, he steps out of the car, the door closing with a soft thud behind him. You watch as he strides toward the front door of your house, his shoulders squared, his posture radiating confidence and control.

But the second he disappears from view, you find yourself reaching for the door handle. You know he told you to stay in the car. You know he wants to protect you.

But you can’t just sit here and let him fight your battles for you.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open and step out into the cool night air, following him up the path toward the house.

***

The door swings open with a resounding bang, ricocheting with enough force to make the picture frames on the adjacent wall rattle. Every head in the common room snaps up, eyes wide and startled as they turn toward the unexpected intrusion.

Max stands in the doorway, the very picture of barely restrained fury, his presence so commanding it seems to suck the air out of the room. His gaze sweeps over the small group of people lounging on the mismatched sofas, taking in their shocked expressions and slack-jawed stares with a level of disdain that’s almost palpable.

“What the hell is going on?” He demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl that reverberates through the room.

No one answers immediately. They’re all too stunned, too caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the tall, broad-shouldered stranger radiating aggression. It’s Chloe who finally finds her voice, pushing herself up from her seat on the sofa and taking a hesitant step forward.

“Um, excuse me, but who are you?” Her voice wavers slightly, but she lifts her chin defiantly, trying to project an air of authority. “You can’t just barge in here like this.”

Max’s eyes lock onto her, and something in his gaze makes her flinch back, the confidence in her stance faltering. He doesn’t bother answering her question. Instead, he turns his head slightly, calling out over his shoulder.

“Come in here,” he says, his tone softer but no less commanding.

You step into the doorway behind him, hesitant and unsure, your gaze flicking nervously between Max and your housemates. You don’t miss the way their expressions shift when they see you — surprise, confusion, and something darker, more judgmental, flickering across their faces.

“Y/N?” It’s Amelia who speaks this time, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on? Who is this guy?”

Max’s jaw tightens, his gaze still fixed on Chloe. “I’m Max,” he says curtly, as if the name alone should explain everything.

It clearly doesn’t. The blank stares from around the room make that abundantly clear.

“Max Verstappen,” he adds, impatience lacing his tone. Still no recognition. “Formula 1 driver? Y/N’s boyfriend?” He tries again, a hint of disbelief in his voice now.

A flicker of something like realization crosses a few faces, but Chloe just scoffs, folding her arms across her chest.

“Yeah, sure,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “And I’m Lewis Hamilton.”

Max’s lips curl into a cold, humorless smile. “Trust me, I would never want to be him.”

The comment flies over Chloe’s head, but it’s enough to send a ripple of laughter through the room. Max’s smile fades as quickly as it came, his expression hardening once more.

“I’m her boyfriend,” he says again flatly, jerking his head in your direction. “And I’m here to find out which one of you decided it was a good idea to call the police and have her arrested.”

The laughter dies instantly. The air in the room thickens with tension, eyes darting from Max to you and back again.

“Arrested?” Amelia repeats, her voice rising in pitch. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Max snaps, his gaze still boring into Chloe, like he can see straight through her. “One of you called the cops and reported her for driving a stolen car. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

A murmur of confusion ripples through the group, genuine bewilderment on most faces. But Chloe’s eyes dart away, a flicker of guilt crossing her expression before she schools it back into one of indifference.

“What — no, that’s ridiculous!” She says, her voice a touch too high-pitched. “Why would any of us do that?”

Max’s gaze narrows, his eyes zeroing in on her like a hawk spotting prey. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet. “You tell me.”

There’s a beat of silence, thick and heavy. Chloe shifts uncomfortably, her gaze flickering toward the others as if searching for support. But no one says anything. No one moves.

“Look,” Chloe finally says, trying for a breezy tone that falls flat. “If she got arrested, that’s … that’s not our fault, okay? Maybe there was a misunderstanding or something.”

Max’s eyes flash, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the barely restrained fury simmering beneath the surface.

“A misunderstanding?” He repeats, his voice deceptively calm. “Yeah, I’d say there was a huge misunderstanding. Like the fact that you assumed she couldn’t possibly be driving that car legitimately. Like the fact that you assumed she’d have to steal it to have something that nice.”

He takes a step closer to Chloe, and she instinctively steps back, her expression faltering. “Whoever made that call didn’t just cause a ‘misunderstanding.’ They caused a whole lot of trouble for no reason other than pettiness and jealousy.”

“Hey, wait a minute-” One of the other housemates tries to interject, but Max doesn’t even spare her a glance.

“Do you know what it’s like to get a phone call telling you the person you love is sitting in a cell?” He asks, his gaze never leaving Chloe’s face. “Do you know what it’s like to hear that they were treated like a criminal just because someone here,” — he practically spits the word — “decided to be a self-righteous, vindictive bitch?”

The room goes deathly silent. Chloe’s face has gone pale, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, no words forthcoming.

“Max, maybe we should-” you start, reaching out to touch his arm.

He cuts you off with a quick shake of his head, his eyes still locked on Chloe. “No. She needs to hear this.”

You shrink back slightly, your stomach twisting with a mix of anxiety and something else — something like relief. Because as harsh as Max is being, there’s a part of you that’s grateful. Grateful that he’s standing up for you, that he’s putting words to all the anger and frustration you’ve been bottling up since this whole nightmare began.

“You don’t get to treat people like that,” Max continues, his voice low and cold. “You don’t get to make snap judgments about someone based on what you think they deserve. And you sure as hell don’t get to sic the cops on them just because you’re too insecure to handle seeing someone else with something you want.”

Chloe’s lips tremble, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape route. “I … I didn’t …”

“Didn’t what?” Max demands, his voice rising. “Didn’t think it would matter? Didn’t think about the consequences? Or didn’t think you’d get caught?”

The accusation hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. No one moves. No one breathes.

“I didn’t think-” Chloe starts, but the words catch in her throat. She swallows hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just — I thought …”

Max lets out a short, harsh laugh. “Yeah, you thought. That’s the problem.”

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, steadier, but no less cutting.

“You know what? I don’t even care what your excuse is,” he says quietly. “Because there is no excuse. Nothing you say is going to change what you did. Nothing is going to make up for the fact that you had her dragged off in handcuffs for no reason other than your own messed-up assumptions.”

Chloe flinches at the words, her shoulders hunching as if she’s trying to make herself smaller. You almost feel a pang of sympathy for her — almost. But then you remember the cold metal of the handcuffs around your wrists, the humiliating feeling of being treated like a criminal, and the sympathy evaporates.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Max says, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re going to apologize. Right now. To her.”

He steps back slightly, giving Chloe a clear line of sight to you. She hesitates, her gaze flicking up to yours, and for a moment, she just stares at you, her eyes wide and fearful.

“I … I’m sorry,” she finally mutters, the words barely audible.

Max’s gaze hardens. “Louder.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe repeats, her voice trembling. “I-I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. I just … I thought the car was … that it wasn’t …”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish. But she trails off, her face crumpling with guilt and shame. It’s not much of an apology, but it’s more than you expected.

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

Max nods once, satisfied. “Good. Now, if I ever hear about you pulling something like this again,” he says, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, “you’ll regret it. Understand?”

Chloe nods frantically, her face ashen. “Y-Yes, I understand.”

“Great.” Max turns away from her, his gaze softening as it lands on you. “Come on,” he murmurs, reaching out to take your hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

The Porsche purrs along the quiet stretch of motorway, the engine’s deep growl a steady undercurrent to the conversation hanging in the air. It’s late — well past midnight — but neither of you seem in any hurry to get home. There’s a lingering tension, a heaviness that neither of you know quite how to disperse.

Max’s hand grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles stark against the leather. You watch him from the corner of your eye, the faint glow of the dashboard casting shadows across his face. His jaw is set, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that betrays the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

He hasn’t said much since leaving your house. Just a few clipped sentences, terse reassurances that he’s not mad at you, that you didn’t do anything wrong. But the words feel hollow, inadequate against the weight of what happened tonight.

After a few more minutes of silence, Max finally speaks, his voice low and controlled. “I talked to the mechanics earlier today.”

You blink, taken aback by the abrupt shift in conversation. “The mechanics?”

“Yeah.” He glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road. “About your car.”

Oh. You feel a pang of anxiety, your stomach twisting unpleasantly. You’d almost forgotten about your poor, beat-up little car, abandoned at some garage in Milton Keynes. “What did they say?”

Max hesitates, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “It’s … not good.”

You swallow hard, your heart sinking. “What do you mean?”

“They think it’s beyond saving.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying to break the news gently. “There’s too much damage. The engine’s shot, the transmission’s on its last legs … basically, it’d cost more to repair it than it’s worth.”

You stare at him, uncomprehending. “But … but I just had it serviced a few months ago,” you protest weakly. “It shouldn’t be that bad-”

“It’s not your fault,” Max interrupts gently. “That car’s been through hell. It’s a miracle it’s lasted as long as it has.”

“But I can’t just … give up on it,” you say, a note of desperation creeping into your voice. “It’s my car, Max. I need it.”

“You need a car,” Max corrects softly. “Not that car. There’s a difference.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I can’t afford a new one right now. I still have to pay for-”

“Hey, hey.” Max’s hand leaves the steering wheel to rest on your knee, squeezing gently. “I’m not saying you have to buy a new car.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicion flaring. “What are you saying, then?”

“I’m saying,” Max begins, his tone careful, measured, “that I’ll get you a new one.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your mind struggling to process what he’s suggesting.

“No,” you say finally, shaking your head vehemently. “Absolutely not.”

Max’s brow furrows, his gaze flickering to yours. “Why not?”

“Because … because that’s ridiculous!” You sputter. “I’m not letting you buy me a car. That’s way too much.”

“It’s not too much if you need it,” he argues calmly.

“Yes, it is!” You insist, your voice rising. “It’s too much, and it’s not your responsibility. I’ll figure something out-”

“Like what?” Max challenges, his voice sharpening. “What are you going to do, keep borrowing cars you’re hesitant to actually use? Take public transport everywhere? What happens when you need to get somewhere and you don’t have a ride?”

“I’ll manage,” you say stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I always have.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to anymore,” Max snaps, his frustration breaking through. “Why won’t you just let me help you?”

“Because it’s not your problem to solve!” You shout back, the words bursting out before you can stop them.

Max goes silent, his gaze turning stony. For a few long moments, the only sound in the car is the steady thrum of the engine and your own harsh breathing.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist. “You’re my girlfriend. That means if you have a problem, it is my problem to solve.”

The certainty in his tone makes your breath catch in your throat. You look at him, really look at him, and see the determination blazing in his eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw.

“Max …” you begin softly, but he cuts you off with a quick shake of his head.

“No, listen to me.” He takes a deep breath, his hand tightening on your knee. “I know you’re independent. I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But this isn’t about money, or pride, or any of that. It’s about making sure you’re safe, that you have what you need to get around. And right now, that means getting you a new car.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he presses on, his gaze never wavering from yours.

“Let me do this for you,” he says quietly, almost pleadingly. “Please.”

His sincerity takes the wind out of your sails, your protests dying on your lips. You stare at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders.

“But … it’s just … too much,” you say weakly, your resolve crumbling.

Max’s expression softens, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think so. And even if it is, I don’t care. You’re worth it.”

The simple, earnest declaration sends a rush of warmth flooding through you, your heart swelling in your chest. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back furiously, refusing to let them fall.

“Why do you have to be so damn convincing?” You mutter, half exasperated, half amused.

Max’s smile widens slightly, his thumb brushing gently over your knee. “It’s a gift.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he says dryly, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor. “So … you’ll let me do this?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. It still feels like too much, like accepting would be crossing some invisible line. But there’s a part of you that knows he’s right — that trying to handle this on your own would be stubborn and impractical and would probably end up causing more problems than it’s worth.

And more than that, you can see how much it means to him. How much he wants to do this for you.

“Fine,” you say finally, letting out a long sigh. “But only because you’re so damn insistent.”

Max’s grin is dazzling, the relief and joy in his eyes almost overwhelming. “Good. I’ll start looking for something first thing tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind the gesture. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he counters smoothly, his grin widening at your soft, exasperated laugh.

“Cheesy,” you accuse, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“Maybe,” he concedes with a shrug. “But it’s true.”

You shake your head, your heart feeling lighter than it has in days. “I’m still not letting you get me something ridiculously expensive,” you warn, trying to sound stern.

“We’ll see,” Max says noncommittally, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Max-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he says quickly, holding up his free hand in mock surrender. “We’ll get something practical, okay? Something that’s safe and reliable and not … ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “Promise?”

Max’s smile softens, and he nods, his gaze holding yours steadily. “Promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a sense of peace settling over you. Maybe it’s not ideal, accepting something so big from him, but … maybe it’s okay to let him take care of you, just this once.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Max’s smile is soft and warm and full of so much affection it makes your chest ache. He leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. “No, thank you.”

[justnatoka]

...and consequences

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Prompt: "You are all remarkably well behaved tonight. What did you do?"

Summary: The boys decide to take matters into their own hands.

Part 2/2

Previous Part

It’s been a few days since the boys came to the diner, and you started to get slightly anxious. Sure, it’s not like they visited you every night before, but based on how you had to part ways last time, you feared they weren’t coming back. Maybe they got tired of your manager’s bullshit and decided it just wasn’t worth it. Even though you thought you had something going on between you and them, maybe you were the only one who started developing feelings. When they didn’t show up on the third night either, you felt like they abandoned you. So you decided to keep your head down and distract yourself with the monotony of work.

There was just one problem. You still had to interact with your manager, which was a challenge given that he was the cause of all this. In the following days you made sure to make him wait a few seconds every time he called your name, always dragging your feet a bit when he gave you a new task to complete. It was childish, but it made you feel a bit better knowing that you caused him mild irritation all day. It’s not like he could do much about it, you still did your job right, completed everything he told you to. It was a small and pretty harmless way to show him your disdain.

At first you thought it was your actions that had him on edge, but after you witnessed him literally jump out of fright when a customer accidentally sneaked up on him to ask him a question, you knew it had to be something else. You noticed him eyeing the door all night, flinching every time the bell chimed above it. Not to mention how he got more and more nervous when closing time drew closer. You always left a few minutes before him, since it was his duty to lock up, and you could have sworn you saw his hand shake last night as he waved you goodnight.

Another peculiar thing was that he started to be nicer to you. Sure, he wasn’t exactly friendly, but it’s been days since he chastised you for something, and his backhanded comments had also stopped. You had no idea what was going on with him, but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On a night exactly one week since the incident, the bell chimed like usual, and when you looked up to greet the new customer, your heart missed a beat. Paul and Marko was grinning at you from where they stood, the latter even waving enthusiastically, David and Dwayne behind them, all of them handsome as ever. You felt a bright smile grow on your face, and you couldn’t contain your excitement as you walked up to them.

“Well look who decided to finally show up,” you greeted them.

“Hi babe, did you miss us?” You felt something warm swell in your chest as Paul asked the same question he did last time.

“You know what, Paulie? I actually did miss you guys.” His eyes seemed to shine just a tad brighter. “Where have you been?”

They took their seat at their usual booth before David levelled you with a curious look.

“We had some pest problem that needed to be taken care of,” he answered, his word choice sounding strangely purposeful.

The four of them shared glances and smiles with each other, and now you were sure there was some hidden meaning that you weren’t privy to.

“How about you, sugar? Everything okay with work?” Marko asked casually, and for a second it seemed like all of them were awaiting your answer with bated breaths.

“Everything’s fine, the customers are mostly nice, and even my boss seemed to lay off his pestering lately. I have no idea what’s gotten into him,” you admitted. There was a noticeable shift in the air around them, as if some unseen tension dissolved all of a sudden.

But now that you mentioned him, you remembered that your manager must be fuming by now, staring daggers at your group. Looking over your shoulder, you were surprised when you didn’t see him anywhere. You shrugged it off and took their order. Going back to the kitchen, there was still no sight of him. It was odd, as he was usually watching them through the window in the kitchen door. While waiting for their food to be made, you noticed another curious thing. The boys were sitting neatly in their booth chatting, no bickering, no shouting, just acting like normal people.

Even after you brought out their food, they thanked you with bright smiles, no over the top flirting, and they ate without a fuss or without a single piece of fry going anywhere other than their mouth. It was too normal.

You stood behind the counter, chewing on your nail in contemplation. Something was up.  For one, you haven’t seen your manager since the boys came in, even though you were sure he was talking to a customer just before that. You didn’t even see him disappear into the back office, he was just gone. On the other hand, the boys were acting like your everyday mild mannered townsfolk who came in for a late night snack, which was the total opposite of their usual chaos. Some unseen connection gnawed at the back of your mind but you couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In the end you couldn’t take it anymore, and seeing as there was no one to chastise you for it, you went over to chat.

"You are all remarkably well behaved tonight,” you eyed them suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” David answered nonchalantly. “We realized that we’ve been causing you a lot of trouble so we decided to play nice.” The innocent smile he gave you told you otherwise.

“Yeah, sure.”

Hearing the disbelief in your voice, Dwayne asked, “Is it so hard to believe that we can behave nice?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

Marko snorted but said nothing.

“Oh come on, dollface, we can be really nice if we want to,” Paul insisted. “You know, like helping old ladies cross the road and whatever shit people do.”

Marko almost choked on his milkshake at this point while you just stared at Paul with the most deadpan expression of your life.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and as you turned around you saw your manager peeking out the kitchen door hesitantly. His gaze was flitting from you to behind you, his face suddenly going pale. When you looked back to the boys, you just barely caught something before they all smiled at you innocently. You told yourself that it was just the trick of the light that made it seem like their eyes shined yellow for a second.

“Yes?” you turned to your manager again.

“C-Can I talk to you for a second?” The stutter was new.

You furrowed your brows as you answered, “Sure.”

Following him into the kitchen, he stopped just on the other side of the door, sending nervous glances outside.

“Can you tell them that I learned my lesson and they can stop now?”

“What?”

“It’s all good, they can come in any time they want. I’ve been good, haven’t bothered anybody. Please, just tell them! I can’t take this anymore!”

He was getting agitated now, looking absolutely terrified. The puzzle pieces fell into place in your head. Glancing over to them through the window, it looked like the boys were looking at your interaction intently, but the second you turned to them, the same innocent smiles were suddenly on all their faces. Letting out a heavy sigh, you assured him that you will tell them everything he wanted you to, then marched out of there and over to their table.

“What did you do to the poor guy?”

“What do you mean, kitten? We did absolutely nothing,” David faked concern.

Looking at Dwayne, you knew you had no chance of getting anything out of him either, and even though Marko looked a bit antsy, a stare from David rendered him mute. So you turned to the weakest link in the group.

“Paul, darling, why don’t you tell me what happened?” Your voice was sickly sweet and he started to sweat.

“Nothing, like David said.” No pet name meant he was nervous. Good, you thought as you continued.

“Paulie,” you practically purred his name, and you saw him break in front of your eyes.

“We might have threatened him a bit,” he muttered under his breath, but you heard it nonetheless.

Your eyes almost fell out of your head as you stared at them.

“You WHAT?”

Paul shrunk under the extremely disappointed look David was sending him.

Seeing no point in denying it anymore, Marko jumped in. “He was treating you like shit, sugar, he hurt you. Were we supposed to just stand around and do nothing?”

“You sure as hell weren’t supposed to threaten him! What if he went to the police?”

“We made sure he wouldn’t,” David answered matter-of-factly, his tone casual but his gaze so cold it caused a chill to run down your spine. How can such a short sentence sound so sinister?

A big hand enveloped yours, and you turned to look into Dwayne’s deep, warm eyes.

“We didn’t want you to get hurt. We just wanted to help.”

Feeling your resolve crumble, you let out a dejected sigh. You gave his hand a little squeeze before looking over them with a much softer expression.

“Thank you for looking out for me, but you didn’t need to do all that. I don’t want you guys to get in trouble for me, it’s not worth it.”

“But you are worth it, babe,” Paul asserted, seemingly back to his normal self. “Besides, if we couldn’t come here anymore, we wouldn’t be able to see your beautiful face so often.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, but now you were smiling brightly.

“Jesus, Paulie, how can you turn everything into a flirty comment?” you chuckled.

“It’s my talent.” His grin was infectious.

“Okay, but promise me one thing. Let’s not resort to threats to solve our problems, alright?”

“Hey, I didn’t even break his nose,” Marko chimed in and you burst out laughing.

“You want me to give you a gold star?”

“I can think of a few things you could reward me with,” he winked, and everything was back as it should be.

The rest of the night was filled with jokes and laughter. David felt satisfied as he watched you interact with his brothers. You were good for them, he felt that the very first time you met. That’s why he promised himself to protect you. And for now, that meant protecting you from the truth.

You didn’t have to know about how they hunted down your manager when he was walking to his car in the empty parking lot after locking up the diner. You didn’t have to know how they cornered him, changing before his eyes and threatened him, leaving him with a reminder that the only reason they let him live is because it’s more convenient for you. But also making sure he knew that if he ever put his hands on you or treated you like shit ever again, they would find him. You didn’t have to know that they kept stalking him for a whole week, keeping him on edge, making sure he kept his promise. There were a lot of things you didn’t have to know yet. And maybe they will tell you all about it one day, but for now, they were satisfied with just spending these nights at the diner with you.

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[dixons-sunshine]

So Beautiful | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl had never fully shown you his scars before. He was too afraid of what you might think of him if he did. However, after being together for a while, he decided to finally bite the bullet and show you what he had kept hidden from your view for so long.

Genre: Mostly fluff, some angst if you squint.

Era: Prison, pre season four, post season three.

Warnings: Swearing, Daryl is insecure in this (I wanna hold him and reassure him that everything is okay), mentions of past abuse.

Word count: 1.5k.

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble, but it ran away from me lol. I hope y’all like this!

Daryl was breathing heavily. His chest was rising and falling quickly as he tried to control his breathing and ease his anxiety. It wasn’t the first time someone had seen his scars, he tried to remind himself. Carol had seen them. Merle had seen them. Hershel had seen them. It wasn’t like nobody knew of them, but he knew that this time was different.

This wasn’t some random person that had to patch up some injury he had sustained. This was you. His partner. The one he cared for deeply, on a whole other level than he did others, on a level that the archer was sure was love. The one he could see himself spending the rest of his life with, however short that might be. That made you different from the rest. You were so vastly different.

Talks of the abuse the archer had endured had come up from time to time, but only on Daryl’s terms. You never pressed to hear more about his childhood, knowing that Daryl would tell you on his own time if he wanted you to know. And sure enough, slowly but surely, over the months the two of you had been together ‘officially’, Daryl had slowly started opening up to you. However, he had never shown you the scars on his back before. He had allowed you to patch up a wound on his chest before, and that had been the most you had gotten to physically see of the cruel pain that had been inflicted on him in his life.

Until now.

The scars on Daryl’s back were on full display for your eyes to see as he sat on the edge of the bed in your shared cell with him. With his back turned to you, he didn’t have to witness the reaction you would give him. He feared a disgusted reaction, a sharp intake of breath as you fully gouged the extent of the pain he had endured that were gruesomely carved into his skin, a permanent, cruel reminder of his father’s abuse. He feared that you would shrink away from him, that you would see him like the worthless piece of garbage most people in his life had viewed him as, like he viewed himself as most times. And the worst part was that he wouldn’t even blame you if you did.

However, he had not expected to hear your voice calling out to him, that usual softness and love he always associated with your beautiful voice as present as ever.

“Is it okay if I touch them?” you asked him softly, your tone of voice gentle and sincere. You weren’t pressing, weren’t insisting on touching them. You were simply asking, and you would be completely okay with it if he said no.

Daryl did not turn his head to look at you, too nervous to do so just yet. However, after a few beats of silence and contemplation, Daryl hesitantly nodded his head. He anxiously awaited the soft touch of your fingers, but they never came. Instead, Daryl felt a soft, tender prodding from something soft against the highest scar on his back, a slight wetness being left in its wake. As the prodding slowly trailed down the scar and onto the next one, he quickly figured out that the soft prodding was caused by your slightly chapped lips.

Daryl sighed quietly at the oddly comforting feeling, an involuntary shiver rolling over his spine. He closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort your actions were bringing him. Slowly but surely, as your kisses trailed over each scar on his back, his initial uneasiness started fading away, instead being replaced by a sense of contentment and love, all thanks to you.

As you placed a final kiss to the lowest scar on his back, you raised up from the bed and moved to stand in front of him. Daryl ducked his gaze down to the floor beneath him, suddenly feeling nervous all over again, but you didn’t allow him to do so. You gingerly took a hold of his chin with your forefinger and thumb, and you gently tipped his head up, making him look at you.

Looking deeply into the eyes of the man you loved most, you sent him a small, soft, reassuring smile. “You’re so beautiful, Dar.”

Daryl scoffed at your words. “Ain’t beautiful,” he denied your statement. However, he couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered at your words. He had never been called beautiful before. He had always considered it to be a feminine compliment, a compliment reserved only for women, a compliment he reserved only for you. So why his heart started beating faster and his cheeks started burning at your compliment, he didn’t know.

You laughed softly at his denial, shaking your head as if he had said the most absurd thing humanly possible. And to you, he had. It broke your heart that the man in front of you could not see himself the way you saw him: loyal, fierce, kind, unendingly fucking beautiful. There were so many other things that could describe the archer, and almost none of them were negative. Sure, everyone had their flaws, and there was no denying that Daryl had his flaws as well, but they were part of what made him Daryl. They made him the man you loved, and there was little that you wanted to change about him.

Except the way he isolated himself when it mattered most to talk to people, and the way he viewed himself, but other than that, he was perfect.

“Well, you’re beautiful to me, Dar,” you told him, your hand moving from under his chin to cup his cheeks instead. You rubbed soothing circles over the stubbled skin of his face with your thumb, your eyes looking deeply into the ocean-coloured ones of your partner. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Well, I’m the beholder, and this beholder is telling you that you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Your other hand came up to his chest, your fingers gingerly tracing over one of the jagged marks on his broad frame. “These don’t take away from the way I see you, Dar. If anything, it makes my view of you even better. All this shows me is that life threw you a lot of fucking curve balls before all of this, and you prevailed. Do you know how strong that makes you? How brave?” You shook your head with a huff of laughter, the sound one of wonder. “God, I can’t even begin to explain how much these don’t deter me at all. They’re relics of a time in your life you overcame, a time in your life I see you trying not to let define your present and future. If that’s not the epitome of strength, I don’t know what is.”

Daryl was rendered absolutely speechless. You truly believed that of him? All of that? You couldn’t, could you? Unwillingly, a lump formed in the archer’s throat. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe that you thought so highly of him, even after he showed you what he considered the ugliest part of him, physically speaking. However, his heart swelled at the knowledge that you did not view him any differently than you had before. You still looked at him with such love, a love he oftentimes felt he didn’t deserve, but he definitely was not about to throw it away, either.

“Thanks,” Daryl mumbled awkwardly at your high praise of him. He did not know what else to say. He wanted to say so many things to show how much he appreciated your words, how much he appreciated you, but he just did not know how.

You smiled at the singular word that left your partner’s mouth. It was so simple, so underwhelming, so undeniably Daryl. To most people, that simple response would be a punch to the gut after such a heartfelt confession, but to you, the response was enough. Daryl was a man of action, not a man of words. He showed his appreciation to your declaration in the form of his hands coming to rest and your hips, slightly tugging you forward to stand closer to him, albeit in-between his legs. He also showed it in the way his eyes sparkled up at you, the emotions swirling around in his beautiful irises conveying more than words ever could.

“Of course,” you replied softly to his thanks, your hand trailing up from his bare chest, up his face and to his hair. Your fingers ran through his brown locks, gently untangling any knots in their wake. “You have no idea how amazing you are to me, Daryl Dixon, but I promise, for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll never stop trying to show you.”

Daryl’s heart both sped up and stopped simultaneously. Your admission made the archer want to cling on to you and never let you go. He had wanted something, someone like that his whole life. Someone who could look past everything and still love him unconditionally. And he had found it. He had found you, and he certainly did not intend to ever let you slip through his fingers.

“Guess yer gon’ be stuck with me forever, then,” Daryl said in his gruff tone of voice, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

A small chuckle escaped your chest. “I really don’t mind the sound of that.”

[elizaleclerc]

it was all by design 🌟

"what if i told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: hunter!reader starts to realize their feelings for xavier, but he's felt this way the whole time...

song: mastermind by taylor swift

word count: 2.1k

author's note: my first l&ds fic everyone cheer! / mostly fluff / workplace romance (i mean this is canon) / im new to this game don't judge / cheeky makeout sesh / he falls first and hard / sarcastic smug xavier (he's a freak) / sweet talk - nothing too spicy / barely proof read oops

It was simple day at the arcade. You and Xavier decided to take the day off from missions and relax with some fun at the colorful arcade machines. You had won more stuffed plushies than you could feasibly carry in your arms, so Xavier held one in his hand delicately, as if he knew how much those little stuffed creatures meant to you.

“Well I better call it a day, I don’t think I can carry any more of these little guys.” You chuckled as your arms began to grow sore, even with the stuffed creatures’ light weight.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be resting your muscles and instead here you are.” He gestured towards your arms filled with plushes. You laughed to yourself, refusing to admit he was right.

The two of you walked back to your car and you dumped all of the plushes in the backseat. As you looked at all of the adorable creatures, a realization hit you. You had no more room at your desk in the office for all of these plushes to fit.

“What are you thinking about? Or are you just admiring your growing collection?” Xavier spoke from beside me. I turned to look at him for a few moments. The Xavier during missions was so different yet the same as the Xavier outside of work. You had come to know him as a close friend, and even shared some flirtatious moments. Most of the time, you pushed those moments aside and decided to see him only as a coworker. But flirtatious fantasies sometimes danced through your mind.

You envisioned his desk at the office. Completely barren; no pictures, no decorations. A piece of furniture completely devoid of any color or personality. You grabbed one of your plushes. This one was a particularly round tomato plush. “Here,” you started, “this won’t fit on my desk, so you can have it.”

Xavier took the plush in his hand and examined it for a moment, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I dunno, it’s up to you.”

~

For some unknown reason, after the day at the arcade you spent the entire next day thinking about Xavier. During random moments of the day, memories between the two of you kept flashing back into your mind. You would be folding laundry and suddenly think back to his arms brushing against yours like they did during a mission in the forest. You both had heard and felt fluctuations and were on guard. He held your wrist in a swift movement to keep you close. You snapped out of it and finished folding your clothes.

Another memory flashed while you were cleaning dishes. It was a particularly risky mission, and Xavier’s Evol was dwindling. His life was at risk, but he was still willing to put himself in the face of danger in order to keep you safe. When you tried to resonate with him, at first he hesitated. He wouldn’t dare you spend any of your energy or power on him. But in the end, your decision to resonate saved his life. You both thought you’d end up losing the other that day, and the silent air of the aftermath sat heavy. You held each other close, your heavy breathing mixing together.

After your days off were over, and you thought you had finally gotten over yourself, you walked into the office prepared for whatever mission Jenna was going to send you on. But then, you saw Xavier across the room. He was standing talking to another hunter, and you just about lost your mind. He was standing with his arms crossed, clad in his hunter uniform, his head cocked slightly as he listened to whatever his coworker was jabbering about. God, he looked amazing, you thought. Why were you thinking of him in this way all of the sudden?

You had gone over every small interaction, every side conversation, every slight touch that the two of you had ever shared. Was there really something between the two of you, or had you actually gone mad this time. You walked over to your desk, placing one of your newest plushes on the shelf to complete your set.

Your eyes glanced over at Xavier’s desk, not expecting anything to have changed. You did a double take when you noticed something new. A small tomato plush sat next to his computer. That wasn’t the only thing either. A square photo was stuck to the hang wall that every worker had.

Trying to be inconspicuous, you squinted at the photo. It was one the two of you had taken before one of your most recent missions. You were both dressed in your uniforms, and he had his arm around your shoulder as you held bunny ears behind his head. He was smiling, and you were sticking your tongue out. It was the only photo the two of you had ever taken together.

Your head was reeling. This couldn’t be real. You were convinced you were trapped in some Protocore induced dream. “Do you like the new decorations?” Your body jolted as Xavier spoke next to you. You turned to see a smug smile on his face, his arms still crossed.

You were too shocked to speak, but finally decided to say something as Xavier waited for an answer. “Yeah, yeah…it’s nice.” Your voice sounded more exasperated than you’d like. Xavier seemed to read you like a book. Did he know the realizations that you were having?

“Are you alright?” He asked with a slight smile. He didn’t actually seem too concerned.

“Yeah- no, yeah, I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, refusing to make eye contact with him. You saw a slight twitch in his bicep as he adjusted his stance by his desk. Your entire face went hot. “I think Jenna wanted me to look at something in the Archive room, I’ll um…be right back.” You hurried through your excuse to leave the main office.

Your breath had quickened, but you found solace in the empty archive room. Only tech workers were really needed back here to retrieve old files on specific Protocores or important history of Linkon. Thankfully the room was empty, the only sound being your heavy breathing. You sat yourself on one of the empty counters, the space usually used for examining documents. You put your head in your hands, get it together.

You heard the handle of the door slide open, and your heart sank. In walked Xavier, still appearing smug and moving like he rehearsed all of this. “Are you following me now?” You huffed, just needing some time alone to sort through your thoughts.

“Are you done lying to me?” He retorted, moving closer to you, now standing only a few feet away.

“What are you talking about?” You scoffed in a hushed laugh.

“You’re clearly not fine. What’s going on?” He still held that dumb smile on his face, and your brows furrowed.

“Are you actually concerned for me? Because you’re smiling. Do you know you’re smiling right now?” You asked in a rushed tone; you’ve never seen him behave this way.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Do I have to explain everything to you?" He took a step closer, his body now towering over you as you sat perched on the counter. He leaned down, his hands planted firmly on either side of your legs. Your faces were mere inches apart, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “Do I have to explain why your face flushes when I get close like this?”

Gently, he reaches out and places his warm hand on your knee, caressing it with gentle strokes. With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to trace a path up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Gradually, his touch becomes more confident and sure, sending waves of desire rippling through your body. “Do I have to explain how your breath quickens when I do this?”

He leans in, his breath warm on your neck as he speaks in a soft whisper only meant for you. You can feel the heat radiating from his lips, and the gentle brush of his words sends shivers down your spine. His breath carries the scent of mint and musk, enveloping you in a cloud of desire. The closeness between you is palpable, and every nerve in your body is electrified by his presence. “Or can you put the pieces together yourself?”

“Xavier…” Is all you can think to say. Your breathing was quickening, and your face was flushed.

He sighed, his lips just barely grazing the start of your jaw, “I’ve waited and waited for you to finally feel what I’ve felt for so long.” You take your hands and slightly push his chest away.

You analyze his face and his brows furrow ever so slightly. “You mean- you’ve felt this way about me all this time and never told me?” You brought one of your hands up to the side of his face, your thumb lightly tracing around his cheek.

“Of course, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew you didn’t feel the same way- if you would never feel this way…” He starts, and before he can continue, you speak up.

“But now you know…”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Exactly.” He brings a hand up to your jaw and slowly moves it to the back of your neck. “Can I kiss you now?” Your eyes felt dazed as you gazed down at his lips. He brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip, waiting. “Please, your eyes are saying yes but I need to hear it from your mouth.”

You nodded, snapping out of the haze you were in. “Yes, yes, please.” As soon as the last word was uttered Xavier brought his lips onto yours. He started slow, his soft lips moving in rhythm with yours. He was still leaning on his hands, but he moved them to wrap around your lower back. You never thought he would feel this good on your lips. You let out a slight whimper, and that sent Xavier spiraling. Like a man starved, he quickened his pace and kissed you as if he’d never get the chance again.

“Wait- we can’t do this here.” You took a moment in between kisses to center yourself and remember you were at work.

“Ugh, I don’t care,” Xavier breathed out and went back to kissing you again. Once his lips found yours for the second time you didn’t care anymore either. You wanted this feeling, this burning desire for him to last forever.

You smiled into the next kiss, “Okay,” You moved your hands into his hair, your fingers tugging on the strands slightly. He moaned lightly into your kiss, causing your back to arch.

You almost missed the door handle opening again, and you immediately pushed Xavier off of you. He stumbled back, partially in shock until he realized why. Andrew walked in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from walking in on the two of you. “Um- Jenna is looking for you. The mission assignments are about to be handed out.” He cleared his throat and walked out of the room.

Your own face was flush pink, and once Andrew left the room you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that here.” Xavier laughed to himself. You had no choice but to laugh, really.

You hopped off of the counter, your legs feeling weak. You couldn’t even think about going on a mission right now, nonetheless with Xavier. “Well,” You straightened out your uniform, “I guess we should head back.”

“Yeah,” Xavier chuckled to himself, “until next time.”

Your face flushed at his words, because you knew there would be a next time.

[ronwestbreeze]

live in gotham they say... | birdie goes to a wedding

summary: what idiot willingly moves to gotham city of all places? you, apparently. word count: 2.8k warning: none! just chaos hehe author's note: i really appreciate the love from my first post of this! so glad y'all are enjoying it! enjoy this next one I have for you!

AO3 | previous

It was a good thing you had a backup plan—at least, that’s what you hoped it would be. Back in high school, you started a small website for your photography business. You made some good money from it back then, so you decided to bring it back in hopes of starting a small business in Gotham.

So far, it’s sort of worked.

In a couple of weeks, you’ve had about three bookings, all for some yearbook photos at three different schools in the city. The money from it could only get you gas and maybe some dinner that could work as leftovers if you were smart and knew how to make it last.

Still living in your car though, but it could be worse!

Your photography bookings were slowly gaining traction and taking off. The next booking was for a birthday party. It was a frat boy scene, not too impressive but hey, you got some good money from it.

The next event that booked you was a wedding.

This, you were a bit more nervous for, mostly because you had nothing to wear that was close to being wedding ceremony material. So, out of desperation, you dug through your boxes of clothes until you finally found a black dress you wore to your grandmother’s funeral back in your junior year of high school. Hopefully, you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Turns out, you didn’t.

The venue was a boat. Like a really nice boat. Which told you that whoever was getting married was loaded.

Everyone was dressed differently yet so rich it made you invisible—which helped with not sticking out like a sore thumb. Whatever country the groom and bride were from seemed like they knew how to dress and throw a wedding. Colors burst everywhere, the dresses were over the top yet beautiful and the decorations were bright and loud. Taking pictures was easy to do with so many sights for you to capture. 

This had to be the best booking you’ve ever gotten, especially if it seemed like an A-list kind of wedding with as much security around.

At some point, you were dragged away to the second floor of the ship to get pictures of the bride and the bridesmaids.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” A shriek came from the room the wedding planner was dragging you toward. 

After pushing the door open, inside there was a woman in a puffy wedding gown the color of scarlet with women surrounding her as they did her hair and makeup. Everyone here seemed to speak Spanish and caught up in their own little worlds—except for the bride of course.

The event planner guided you toward the bride, motioning for you to take pictures of her getting ready. You carefully made your way over—mindful not to get in the way of the makeup and hair crew—as you held your camera up, “Okay, can I get a nice smile from the bride—“

“How the fuck do you expect me to do a heist without a getaway driver?! What do you mean King Shark called in sick?!” You paused, the grip on your camera tightening. A heist? Did you hear that correctly? The bride to be planning a heist in the middle of her wedding? No, maybe you misunderstood…

The bride kept going, not noticing you yet. “This isn’t Big Belly Burger! He’s not gonna get fucking PTO…” The bride trailed off once she did finally notice you and your camera. She had a phone to her ear and her eyes were wide. Oh shit. “Aw, shit…”

Shit, she knows you overheard her. Why the hell was she planning a heist in the first place—not the point. But this made you a suspect, right? What if the police got involved—what if she’d have you killed for knowing about the heist? How did this already turn to shit? 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Waiting to see what the other would do first.

“Harls? You good?” A woman’s voice came from the bride’s—Harls—phone. The woman was probably her other crew for the heist—shit, she was going to send them after you, wasn’t she? 

Think, think!

“Yeah…” The bride sighed as she reached under her dress. You blanched when you saw it was a gun. “Montez might’ve sent a little birdie—yes, don’t worry, I’ll handle it! I haven’t screwed it up yet!”

“¡sonríe para la cámara!” You blurted before taking her picture with the flash on. 

She hissed, throwing her head back in surprise, “Ow!—The little birdie blinded me!—Yeah well, it hurt my eyes so shut up, will ya?”

Quickly, you moved to get pictures of the bridesmaid, repeating the same line in Spanish, hoping to show that you couldn’t speak English and totally didn’t hear or understand anything she had said about a heist or a getaway driver, before dashing out of the room to get back to the deck.

You blended in with the rest of the guests and photographers, making sure to keep your head low and unnoticeable. But of course, you just had to notice more strange things.

The security guards standing by were all holding guns, almost as if ready to shoot anyone who would step out of line. Then there were some of the guests. Most of the men were tatted and drenched in gold chains and expensive-looking watches. The gold didn’t stop at the men but even the women were decked out in more expensive-looking jewelry. Some were even smoking cigars as they stepped straight out of The Godfather.

First, the bride was planning a heist and now you felt as if you were in the middle of a mob boss movie. Just what kind of wedding was this?

“You’re living in your car. You’re living in your car.” You murmured to yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

Suddenly the groom came down the aisle and everyone gathered in place. The distant waves of the water and the organ playing set the mood of the wedding. You snapped pictures of the bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle and snapped a few more pictures of the guests before finally the bride came out.

You subtly hid yourself behind a nearby security guard, hoping to stay out of sight as she came down the aisle. She was very pretty, that much was clear. Some of her pale blonde hair was highlighted with blue and pink and her scarlet wedding gown trailed along the floor behind her as she walked. But she seemed quite distracted, her head snapping back and forth as if she were looking for something—or someone.

Shit, was she still hoping to take you out? Maybe you’re Spanish was a bit rusty after all.

Fortunately, you weren’t the one she was worried about.

By the time she got to the end of the aisle, the minister began the officiation—and yet you couldn’t stop noticing strange things as the ceremony went on.

Some of the security guards started blocking the entrances. Some of the guests began fiddling with their holsters that were conveniently hidden under their coats and dresses. Then there was the fact a few chairs were empty of a few guests a few thuds were coming from outside the double doors the security guards were standing in front of. 

You were suddenly all too aware of the way the boat was slightly rocking. All your life, you’ve never been one to be seasick but your stomach was twisting up into all sorts of knots at the moment. You could legitimately throw up from being so anxious.

God, you really hated being observant.

“Harley Quinn, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked, snapping you back to the ceremony.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” The bride—Harley—shrugged distractedly whilst her eyes kept dancing around the room.

“And Gabriel Montez, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

You furrowed your brows at that point. Why was the minister speaking English?

Harley seemed to notice this as well. “Aw, shit.”

The minister closed the bible, “Then I hereby pronounce you—UNDER ARREST!”

And just like that, the whole room broke into utter chaos. The minister removed his fake beard and robes to reveal he was a cop. A few of the security guards did the same. You ducked under a nearby table as soon as the guns were out, the cigars were put out, and bullets went flying.

The bride, Harley pulled out two guns and joined in the gunfight. “Secure the goods! Secure the goods! We’ll get our own fucking getaway driver!”

You had to get out of here fast. 

Taking a risk, you crawled from under the table and toward the double doors leading out of this chaotic room. A body had dropped next to you, causing you to yelp and look away before you could see the blood and the lifeless eyes from them. You just kept going, no point in stopping or looking back. Everyone was distracted, you wouldn’t waste your chance of escaping.

Once you got to the double doors, one of them slammed open—nearly smacking you in the face in the process—as a few more security guards rushed in to join the chaos. You took that chance to dive through the door right before it closed, muffling the shouts and the gunshots. Stumbling to your feet, you didn’t hesitate to run.

It took a moment for you to find the path leading down under the boat where are the escape baots were. That’s the one thing you remembered when you were given the tour. There were for emergencies and you were pretty sure this counted as one. But finding it was the biggest relief. They were all either lifeboats or motorboats. And wanting to get to land faster, you went for the motor boat.

Quickly, you searched for the emergency latch and pulled it down, creating an opening wide enough for you to take one of the boats and escape. You leaped onto one of the motorboats, making sure to untie it from the anchor.

“Freeze!”

You yelped and glanced over our shoulder, seeing a cop a few feet away, pointing a gun straight at you.

Fuck.

“H-Hey! I’m not a part of this! I’m just the photographer!” You tried while raising your hands as the cop drew closer, his gun never wavering.

“Slowly, get out of the boat.” The cop ordered making your heart drop.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Carefully and slowly, you got out of the motorboat, “There must be some mistake—I swear I have nothing to do with the heist, I swear!”

The cop then narrowed his eyes, “Oh yeah, then how did you know there was even a heist if you’re just a photographer?”

You paused and realized your mistake. Okay, that one was on you.

“Alright, that’s a fair point.” You grumbled, hands still raised.

The cop never lowered the gun, “Step away from the boat. You’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly stepped away from the boats. “Please—this is all just some misunderstanding—all I do is take pictures—um, do you have to point the gun at me? Uh…No hablo ingles?”

“Just shut up already and stand still!”

“…Que?”

Now he was pissed—which granted was your fault. “Alright, kid. One more word out that mouth of yours and I’ll—“

A gun went off and the cop fell forward. You screamed as his body fell into the water. Now a new gun was pointed at you, this time with the bride—Harley Quinn—on the other side of it.

She grinned at you, “I knew you could speak English, little birdie!”

Your hands were still raised while you trembled, “To be fair I panicked and I really didn’t mean to overhear your heist plans—I’m just a photographer here trying to make a living so, uh, please don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone, seriously—“

Distant voices and footsteps drew near, causing Harley to groan and suddenly push you into one of the motorboats. “Enough yapping and more running!“ She dumped a duffel bag onto the boat which landed with a heavy thud with clinking sounds coming from inside it. No doubt that was the stolen goods.

“Wait, what are you—“ You furrowed your brows as she was tearing the skirts of her wedding dress.

Harley sent you a glare with wide eyes, “Whatcha waitin’ for? You wanna go to the slammer or do you wanna escape and be a free birdie, birdie?!” 

“Not with a criminal!” 

“Gasp! I’m hurt! And here I thought we bonded for a moment!”

The cops were drawing closer. You glanced toward the dead cop floating in the water, knowing that if they saw that and you were in the boat with Harley, then you were as sure as dead.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Tick-tock, little birdie!” Harley shouted as she loaded more bullets into her guns.

With that, you quickly adjusted your camera and quickly turned the engine on. The footsteps were getting closer and Harely clicked her guns into place. 

Shit, shit, shit.

The first few cops came down, guns pointed. “Stop right there—“

You slammed on the pedal and steered the motorboat out of the underboat just as Harely started blazing bullets toward the cops. 

“HAHA! Too slow!” Harley stuck her tongue out as she continued shooting at the cops the more they got further and further away from the boat.

Night had fallen and the air was cold despite the warm spring season. Gunshots echoed through the distance but you tried your best to drown it out while steering the boat away from the chaos. Though, of course, chaos itself was on the boat with you.

“Wow, you’re good at this! Have ya ever been a getaway driver before?” Harley asked once they were further away out of range of the cops and gunshots. 

You swallowed, shivering slightly from the cold. “No—I mean, I’ve driven a boat before but I’ve never done this. Boat racing doesn’t count, does it? Then again, I’ve never helped a criminal escape from the police—am I going to be wanted now? Did they see my face? Oh great, not even a couple of weeks into here and I’m already being chased by police—there aren’t going to be flyers with my face around town are there? I just wanted to get a job and a little apartment, not go to jail—“

“Wow, you’re a yapper, huh?” Harley laughed as she leaned against your shoulder. “Well, welcome to Gotham, suga, it ain’t getting any prettier from here.”

You frowned and glanced toward her, “Uh…thanks?”

Eventually, a beach came into view as you steered the boat toward it. Once you had gotten to shore, Harley leaped out of the boat with the bag of stolen goods, “You should probably get running, birdie. Them coppers are persistent little fuckers.” 

Just as she said that you heard the distant sirens stirring you to quickly scramble away from the boat and rush along the beach. Harley ran in one direction while you ran in another. 

“See ya around, little birdie!” You heard her call and could practically hear the grin in her voice.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you found your parked car and let out a huge sigh of relief. Only to groan when you realized that you wouldn’t be paid after all of that bullcrap. So much for a guaranteed buck. Maybe no more weddings for now—especially ones on boats.

You took your camera and placed it safely back in its case when you suddenly felt something heavy in the pocket of your dress. Hesitatingly, you dug into your pocket and took out the heavy object—only to gasp.

In your hands was a gold watch—one of those watches you’d seen those older tattooed men wearing at the wedding. How it got in your possession you weren’t sure….

A flash of Harley’s grin was imprinted into your mind and you gripped the watch.

You could return it. That would be the right thing to do.

But then again, you went through hell just for a photography job. And you needed another meal to last you more than a couple of nights.

Technically…you didn’t steal it.

And technically, you could look at this as your paycheck.

In the corner of your eye, there was movement. You thought someone had caught you as you quickly pocketed the watch away and looked toward the movement. 

Only you saw a cat sitting on the hood of one of the nearby cars, its indigo eyes staring in your direction curiously. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

At some point, you pulled out of the parking lot. At some point, you drove past the police cruisers who didn’t spare you a second glance. At some point, the watch ended up back in your pocket and you didn’t think twice about it then.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 17] Father and Son

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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Satoru tries to make up for the past four years of Ren’s life in a matter of weeks. His focus drastically changes, from his work to his son. He ignores the matter of so many people knowing before him, he avoids his mother and his so-called friends. His main and only priority is his son.

You both wish you could say that your relationship has gotten better, but you don’t really speak to each other unless it’s about the son you share. You’re hopeless that it’ll progress past what you have. Neither of you have the courage to bring up the situation, either way, your attention should be on Ren. 

Ren is finally meeting the man that he’s been dreaming of, and he’s getting to know his father after four years. You’re mostly excited for your son, while also regretting hiding it when you had the chance to tell him. Your relationship is the last thing on your mind– It’s certainly the last thing in Satoru’s mind.

He visits daily, bearing many gifts for his son. Satoru has become a regular at the toy store, buying something each day for his son, something that he thinks Ren would like. He hopes that material stuff will make up for the time wasted. Sometimes he brings some candy, but he doesn’t do it often. Satoru is still his father, he can’t just spoil him rotten, he also has to care for Ren’s wellbeing. He’s slowly growing accustomed to becoming a parent.

“What’s this, Ren?” Satoru holds up a cute white cat plush, one that Satoru always finds on the bed. He wonders if that’s the toy his son has had ever since he was a baby, he guesses it is since Satoru feels like he’s seen it in the background of a picture before.

“It’s whiskers.” Ren answers, taking the plush from his father and putting it back on the bed. That’s before he turns to other matters. Ren doesn’t mind sharing his toys (because you’ve been the one raising him), but whiskers is someone that Ren doesn’t like anyone touching. Anyone and anything can get the toy dirty, and when that happens, you refuse to let the toy on the bed, at least not before you wash it and get it clean again.

Satoru doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the plush that he sleeps with, because that’s most certainly a yes. Ren wants to talk about other important matters though so Satoru gives his undivided attention to his son. Ren then asks, “Are you sleeping over?”

“Uhm… No.” Satoru answers. You most certainly wouldn’t want that. Plus, Satoru has a wife at home who has her suspicions that something is going on. He doubts that she’ll care too much, but he wants to keep Ren protected from the world. If Sayo finds out, so does her family, and if her family knows, the whole world will know. “But I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Ren.”

“I want you to stay.” Ren sticks out his bottom lip, obviously disappointed that his father isn’t staying for the night. You let him on your bed all the time and you sleep together, why can’t he do the same thing with his father? Satoru can’t help but feel bad, so he thinks of how to respond to cheer him up.

You commented how you had plans of going on a small trip with Ren before summer ended, but summer evidently has come to an end. It’s colder now and the leaves are changing color. Satoru finally decides, “We can go on a trip soon, and we’ll be together all day every day.”

“Really?” The little boy’s eyes light up, making the biggest smile come to Satoru’s lips. Satoru now wonders how he was ever happy without him– Well, with you… But that memory slowly fades away since your relationship is now filled with awkwardness. Satoru nods his head in response. He can lie and make it a business trip, it’s not an issue for him really.

“We’ll have to talk to your mommy first, honey. Then we can plan it all.” Satoru answers, and Ren turns around to go look for you. Satoru feels awkward sitting alone on a bed that’s far too low and small for him. He stands up and follows Ren. They both look for you around the apartment until they land in your bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, and Ren immediately knows what to do.

Ren opens the door to the bathroom, and you immediately make eye contact with Satoru. Your face grows hot of embarrassment, and obviously Ren doesn’t see an issue with it. Ren’s issue is when he actually steps into the bathroom, and he just has to comment, “It stinks.”

“Yeah, I wonder why. Get out, Ren, and close the door!” You raise your voice, your embarrassment getting the best of you. Ren closes the door, leaving you to it, and Satoru chuckles. He ruffles Ren’s hair as both walk out of your bedroom.

“You gotta learn how to knock, baby. Give your mommy some privacy.” Satoru says, but it goes one ear out the other. Ren isn’t going to knock, you’re his mommy. If you want your privacy you better lock the door. They take a seat in the living room, where Ren grabs the remote to put on a movie. He knows how to get the movie he wants, even when he’s just learning how to read and spell.

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks, wondering where his son wants to go. Ren drops the remote on the couch, putting his tiny index finger on his chin, humming and tilting his head to the side as he thinks of the answer. 

“The beach.” Ren answers, but it’s cold. They can go out of the country though, go somewhere warm. He needs to talk to you first, of course. When you finally walk out of your bedroom (after mentally cursing your son for not having any manners when others are around), you go to the living room to see what they needed.

“What did you need, Ren?” You ask, and he looks excitedly at you. Satoru is the one that speaks up for him though,

“We want to go on a trip, can we?” You almost laugh since Satoru sounds like a hopeful child.

“Where are you two going?” You respond. You can’t really say no because Satoru is supposed to have equal authority as Ren’s father.

“Ren wants to go to the beach.” Satoru answers, Ren nodding in agreement. You cross your arms, your brows furrowing.

“It’s too cold to go to the beach, do you not have any other place in mind?” You point out, making Ren pout. The pout doesn’t last long though since Satoru says,

“We can go to another country. Somewhere warm with better beaches.” You’re certainly not convinced since you doubt you’re part of the plan. You’re not letting your baby boy in another country without you– Well, technically he’d be with his father, but you’re still not convinced. Until Satoru says, “Of course, you’re included! I doubt Ren would go anywhere without you.”

“I wouldn’t.” Ren affirms, and you laugh. 

“If you plan everything, then sure. We can go on a trip. You need to give me time off though– Paid time.” You say, and Satoru nods in response. He does pretty much everything you ask of him, and you certainly can’t complain about it. Ren focuses on putting on one of his favorite movies, and you begin to walk to the kitchen, asking, “Are you staying for dinner, Satoru?”

“Yeah.” Satoru answers. He’d definitely rather eat here with his son and you than dine alone at home. He helps Ren put the movie on, and they both begin to watch the movie. He’s watched this movie around five times the past week, and to be honest, Satoru is sick of it. But he’ll watch it because Ren loves it. 

He’s grateful when you call his name, and he has to tell Ren that you need him, so he can’t stay to watch the movie. Satoru walks to the kitchen, and he finds you trying to reach something that’s far too high for you. Satoru’s eyes land on the white bowl and he reaches for it before handing it to you. You mutter a thank you, and you expect him to go back to Ren, but he doesn’t. You then tell him, “That’s all I need from you, you can go.”

“Do you need help with anything else? You know I love Ren but… I’m sick of that movie.” Satoru answers, earning a chuckle from you. You think about what he can do for a moment, and he patiently waits for you to answer.

“You can make the salad, and then set the table.” You respond, and you think you’ll regret it for a moment. Satoru has had everything done for him, he probably doesn’t know how to cut a cucumber; but then you remember that he lived alone for some time, he had to cook for himself for a while. Satoru immediately gets to work, opening the fridge to get all the vegetables that he needs. He looks around the cabinets and drawers for the cutting board and knife, and he quietly begins to cut the vegetables.

“Have you talked to Shoko?” Satoru asks, washing the lettuce throughout. Pretty much everything is wrong between the two of you, but you can’t just stand in awkward silence every single day. You have to talk to each other, after all, you doubt you’ll stop seeing each other.

“I haven’t. I’m not going to for a while.” You reply. In Satoru’s eyes, she did nothing wrong. He’s glad that Shoko told him, otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be with Ren. But in a sense, he understands why you don’t want to talk to her. “Tell her to stop calling my phone because I’m not going to answer. I’ll call her when I’m ready.”

“I’m not really talking to her either.” He responds.

“Is it because she has the hots for your wife?” You blurt out, and you bite your tongue the moment the words leave your lips. Satoru’s brows raise, definitely surprised by your words. You can’t be serious, can you? Before he can ask more questions about it, you change the topic, “Speaking of… When are you going to tell Sayo about Ren? She’s your wife, she has to find out eventually.”

“Maybe after our trip… I’m not sure how to tell her.” Satoru shares, and you understand that it’s a tough situation. He has to figure out a way to tell his wife of almost five years that he had a kid that’s almost five– And he never cheated, he just found out about him. This was all before their marriage. It’s definitely hard. Satoru clears his throat, mustering up the courage to ask about Suguru, someone else that he has been ignoring. “So… How are you and Suguru? Are you still seeing each other?”

“We’ve been busy, but we’re still… Talking.” You answer. You won’t lie and say that you don’t feel nauseous every time you talk to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest for the simple fact that you lied to him. He has to find out that you lied eventually. “Have you talked to him?”

“I’m not talking to him. I’ve been ignoring him. I’ve been ignoring everyone.” Satoru responds. He puts the knife down, watching you as you begin to cook. He bites down his lip, holding back on saying a couple of things that are on his mind. About this situation, about you and Suguru, maybe an apology. Satoru has been a complete mess with so many things going in his mind, but not voicing any of them. He does have to ask one question though, “Is Ren the reason why you quit school?”

“Yeah…” You feel embarrassed to say it. “I couldn’t afford both. It was either my baby or school, and that was an easy choice.”

“Sorry…” He mutters, and it’s barely audible but you hear it. You don’t really pay attention to it, in the end it was your decision. Given the option, you’d do it all over again. 

[pizdasi]

AND YOU DID IT AT MY BIRTHDAY DINNER

when you attended your friend’s birthday dinner you didn’t think things would get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 with the waiter. fortunately, thinking was never your strong suit.

cw: smut (mdni), substance abuse, degradation, sex under the influence, petnames

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“tati!” your friend turned around to look for the person calling her name. when she saw it was you who called for her, a smile lit up her face. “oh my god, y/n, i can’t believe you made it!” she said while reaching out for a hug. “wow, you look amazing, and the dress? stunning, to die for!” she said as she stepped back and took a good look at you.

you didn’t want to stand out too much so you decided on the safest option - a little black dress. it had been a few years since you last had the chance to wear it though, so it had gotten a bit short, ending somewhat closer to your crotch than your knees. since you didn’t think to try it on before the dinner there wasn’t any time left for last minute outfit changes, even if you felt a bit uncomfortable.

“here’s your seat, right next to me!” tati said with excitement and pulled the chair out for you. as you sat down she stood up and tapped her wine glass with a fork. “everyone, thank you so much for coming, i’m honored all of you could make it to my birthday dinner!”

she went on but you couldn’t focus on what she was saying because something, well, someone else caught your attention.

in the corner of the restaurant you saw the staff. more specifically, your eyes focused on a waiter. you tried to look at his name tag but before you could make it out, his gaze met yours. suddenly an applause broke out. you looked at tati and realized she had finished her speech. you looked back at where the waiter had been standing and he was gone.

after a while, your table had picked what to order and tati signaled to a waiter to come. as people were listing their orders you looked up at the waiter.

it was him. “namgyu”. you had the chance to read the name tag now. he stopped scribbling on his notepad and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. you panicked a bit, could he have heard your thoughts? you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word. “do you not know what you want to order yet, y/n…?” tati asked with a hint of confusion in her voice after a few seconds of silence. oh, right, it was my turn to order. “uhm, i’ll have chimichangas, please.” you managed to say through some stuttering. you felt your face slowly turning red. you looked at the waiter again and saw him writing down your order with a slight smirk on his face.

“alright, anything else?” he looked around the table and left his gaze lingering on you. for a second it felt like he glanced lower than he should’ve, but you were sure you were just imagining things. it was a really fancy restaurant after-all.

you spent the next 15 minutes waiting on your food, but mostly glancing around the restaurant to see if namgyu was near. in the few times you managed to spot him, his eyes were already on you.

though you didn’t want to admit it, his presence made you nervous and your mouth water. he wasn’t even all that, but still, there was something that drew you to him. his nonchalance perhaps?

even though you tried to resist it, you couldn’t help but wonder how his lips tasted and how he would’ve felt when tasting you. you weren’t sure if you were slowly losing your sanity or just ovulating (probably both), but one thing was certain - you needed that man.

after what felt like hours, dishes were being delivered to your table by no-one other than your latest obsession. every time he put down the plates, he slowly looked at you before walking away.

finally you saw him coming over with your food. “and chimichangas, best for last. enjoy your meal.” he scoffed after licking his bottom lip and returning to his duties. your felt your heart starting to beat faster. the tension that might’ve very well just been your delusions was getting to you.

“sorry, i need to go the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” before tati could answer, you got up and quickly headed for the toilet. thankfully it was empty.

you stood in front of the mirror, leaning over the sink. as you stared at your reflection you couldn’t stop thinking how good namgyu’s hands would look all over your body. you lightly dragged your fingers across your neck and chest, imagining they were his.

“you need help with that?” you jumped while covering your mouth from shock. he was standing right in front of the door, holding it closed behind him.

the air had never felt heavier as you were trying to think of something to say, anything. “t-this is the women’s room!” you replied with a somewhat accusatory tone in your voice. “and i’m an employee here. now stop avoiding my question.” he said while taking small steps to get closer as you backed away.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you said with a slightly shaky voice while hitting the wall behind you. you couldn’t back away any further but he was still getting closer.

he stopped right in front of you with his hands in his pockets, tilting his head a bit. “don’t act all shy now after you’ve been eye fucking me all night. you’re fucking stupid if you thought i wasn’t going to notice.” he said as his smile grew bigger. you gulped. it was over, you were caught. you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything so you just looked at the floor in silence.

“hey, look at me.” he said while suddenly lifting your face with one hand and lightly slapping it with the other. “open up, slut. ahh.” his thumb dragged over your bottom lip as he gestured for you to open your mouth. you were taken aback but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. you opened your mouth and before you could react, namgyu stuck his fingers in. as he made you suck on his digits, his left hand found itself creeping down onto your chest.

“you’ve got great tits, you know? i’d love to suck on them.” he smiled widely as he lowered his face to your neck and started placing sloppy kisses all over it, leaving your knees feeling weaker and occasional whimpers escaping your mouth.

“be quiet, baby, you don’t want everyone to hear what a whore you are now, do you?” he took your wrists in his hand and pinned them to the wall above your head while his other hand found its way to your thighs. he held eye contact with a serious expression on his face as his fingers moved closer to your inner thigh.

“you like that?” he said softly while rubbing his hand over your underwear. “what if someone comes inside?” you said in between some muffled moans. “that’s what makes it exciting!” he replied with an almost insane expression on his face.

he slipped his hand in your underwear. “fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me and i haven’t even done anything yet.” he pushed a finger inside you, earning a gasp from you. he began thrusting his fingers slowly, making you feel dizzy. his hand finally let go of your wrists and your hands fell on his shoulders. he grabbed you by your neck as he began picking up the pace, looking you straight in the eyes.

you couldn’t hold off any longer. you felt yourself reaching the climax, causing you to cover your mouth with your hand to silence the noises that escaped you uncontrollably. you held onto his shoulders tighter as you came all over his fingers. as you were gasping for air in his arms, you heard the bathroom door open.

“y/n?!” tati said in shock. namgyu brought the hand that was just in you to his lips and put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. “hmm, the main dish tastes different tonight.” he grinned, “my apartment is across the street.” he whispered as he leaned closer. “i’m getting fired anyway, might as well make the most of it.” he said as he walked out of the bathroom.

“y/n, what the fuck is going on? why was he in here? did he- is that why you were talking so long?” tati frantically tried to find an explanation. but adrenaline was rushing through you and the orgasm you just reached was so fucking amazing you couldn’t really think straight. “i’m sorry, tati, i have to go.” you rushed out of the restroom. “for what? to suck dick and cock?” she yelled after you, feeling betrayed, “i mean time and place!” understandably so. after-all, you did this at her birthday dinner.

you stormed out of the restaurant and found namgyu already waiting for you. “take this.” he said as he took out a pill you couldn’t recognize, “it’ll make you feel even better.” even though you had never done this before, you wanted to obey him. he was the one who had just made you feel like heaven so you trusted his word.

you took the pill a second after he took one as well. he then grabbed your face and placed a passionate kiss on your lips. “let’s go, chimi.”

the second you two walked into the apartment, he slammed the door behind you and began making out with you while simultaneously taking off his uniform. his hands found the zipper on your dress and soon after that, you were left standing in just your underwear.

“can you get on your knees for me, chimi? hm?” he said while unbuckling his belt. “why the fuck do you keep calling me chimi? my name’s-” you were cut off, “because you ordered fucking chimichangas, nobody orders fucking chimichangas.” he said while laughing akin to a maniac.

you were left speechless. to be honest, the pill he gave you earlier was starting to hit you so you couldn’t have cared less what he called you, you just knew you needed him inside you more than ever. “knees… please?” he said with his eyebrows raised and a cheeky smile on his face. you were pretty sure he was clinically insane but that wasn’t going to stop you.

you slowly got down on your knees while holding eye contact. you were about to pull down his boxers, when you suddenly heard the toilet flush. a second after that, you saw a tall purple haired man walk into the room. “yo, namsu, my man!”

“oh my god, what the fuck are you doing here, when did you get back?” namgyu yelled back at him. “my brother, i missed you!” he started walking towards namgyu with open arms. “dont fucking touch me, bro! get the fuck out, i’m trying to get fucked right now, god!” he said in frustration while pushing him away.

“no worries, namsu, i’ll be in my room if you need anything.” the purple haired guy said. “no, thanos, get the fuck out of this apartment right now. go to mina’s place or a club, i don’t give a fuck, just get the fuck out!” namgyu yelled as he pushed him out of the flat, locking the door behind him.

“fuck, i feel so bisexual right now!” he exclaimed in annoyance. “you mean bipolar?” you finally spoke up still, in the same spot on your knees. “i don’t know the fucking difference, both! fuck…” he sighed, “just open your mouth for me, angel.”

and you did. he pulled down his underwear and revealed the absolute monster cock he had been hiding. before you could think about it, your hands reached for it, stroking it slowly and rubbing it over your face. in a moment of bravery, your lips got closer to the tip and you started sucking on it as you took off your bra. “fuck yeah, baby, that’s right. take it, take all of it.” he moaned as you gagged on his dick, “such a fucking good girl. so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

after he started pushing your head, it didn’t take long for him to start whimpering. as he did, he lifted you without warning and carried you over his shoulder to his bedroom. he laid you down on your back and got on top of you, starting to lay sloppy kisses from your mouth down as he played with your nipples.

your panties were on the floor in an instant and his tounge on your clit, making you whine and grab at his hair. “yeah, that’s-” you moaned, “don’t stop!” he buried his head in between your thighs as he sucked on all the right places before getting to your tits and lightly biting your nipple.

he grabbed you by your waist and turned you around so you were lying on your stomach. “ass up.” you did as he said and arched your back. “such a pretty pussy.” his arms wrapped around your thighs, his hands spreading your ass, as he got all up in your holes, his tongue in your pussy and his nose on your asshole.

he flipped you back on your back. “you ready to take all of me, slut?” he said while caressing your cheek. you nodded in response because you weren’t able to do much more.

he spread your legs and started rubbing his tip over your clit, earning shaky breaths from you. when he put it in you cried out. “fuck, babygirl, you feel so good!” he moaned. you felt so dizzy and ecstatic you couldn’t even do anything but moan uncontrollably. you weren’t sure if it was entirely the pills fault you couldn’t control yourself because namgyu was making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“feels… so good!” you managed to get out between gasps and moans. “you look even better when i’m fucking your brains out.” he grunted while holding your legs spread. you felt yourself reaching the climax, “i-i’m gonna cum!” you cried out. at those words he fastened his pace, “cum for me then, slut.” your hands covered your mouth as you screamed incoherent words.

namgyu felt himself about to cum when he saw you shaking and orgasming under him. he pulled his cock out of you and started jerking it. he grunted and moaned after he finally came all over your stomach. he exhaled and laid on his back next to you. “see, wasn’t that so much better than your stupid fucking dinner and stupid fucking chimichangas?”

[rafesbowbunny]

𝜗𝜚 you and rafe had never gotten along, but one plane ride changed it all

c!w; mdni !! reader is sassy lol, mean dom!rafe, kinda dom!reader a bit, degradation, rough hate sex lol, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, lotta dirty talk, slight size kink as per usual.

notes; i mostly write a shyer reader or established relationship sooo this is kinda outta my comfort zone a little ! i hope you enjoy ! ALSO this is kinda longggggg

you loathed rafe cameron. he was the embodiment of everything you hated about entitled kook assholes that didn't deserve their privilege, there was unfortunately a plethora of them, he would be their king.

how did you have the displeasure of knowing rafe cameron? well your father and his worked very closely for years, building an empire upon which both your dad and ward sat atop on.

you could admit that you too were definitely privileged, absolutely spoiled even, but you would definitely argue that you were raised right in comparison to the people in which you shared a zip code with.

you and rafe had gotten acquainted not only through just being at the same high school prior to graduating, but also because your dad and ward enjoyed hosting a little too much. there were many a party where you had to take care of drunk rafe because you couldn't stand disappointing your father, even though rafe wasn't your responsibility.

it was only recently that ward and your father had been taking you to their big office tower, showing you and rafe the ropes. seeing as you were both the first born children, you were to inherit and become the heads of the empire your fathers had cultivated.

you always thought about how there's no way rafe would ever rise to such a responsibility.

it was a cold autumn day when you and rafe had been called to join your fathers for another day of learning, you two were technically already apart of the company having graduated from high school, but you were still learning.

unfortunately for you, ward had decided you two would join them at the office tower in atlanta, meaning you had to sit on a plane alone with rafe.

you were dreading the hour flight as the uber pulled up to the landing strip. the two of you had been silent the entire car ride, thankfully the feeling of hatred was neutral so you never had to worry about rafe bothering you, but his existence was enough anyway.

you hopped out of the uber, grabbed your overnight bag and headed up the steps of the private jet.

the two of you sat adjacent to each other, rafe with his signature smirk adorning his lips, he knew you were hating every minute of this. the plane hadn't even moved yet, something about the pilot being late.

"where the fuck is this pilot." rafe grumbled, you ground your teeth and glared at him before turning back to look outside.

rafe began tapping his foot impatiently before walking into the flight attendant quarters, emerging from behind the curtain with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

your jaw ticked in annoyance, of course he wouldn't offer you a glass, typical. you couldn't hold back the words, they were falling off the tip of your tongue, "you could offer a glass at least." you growled, crossing your leg over the other.

rafe's gaze tore off of the over filled glass in front of him and onto your legs, you were wearing a form fitting pair of grey pinstripe pants as well as a tight long button up shirt, it was driving rafe crazy. he rolled his eyes and took a big gulp of the drink, it burning smoothly down his throat.

"asshole." you muttered, getting up to get yourself a gin and tonic instead, it was too early in the day for whiskey anyway. rafe watched your ass as you disappeared into behind the curtain, twitching his nose in annoyance about how hot he found you. you came back with a drink in hand, making sure to glare at him a little before sitting down.

the pilot finally arrived, walking up onto the plane and apologising as he walked past the two of you, rafe shook his head at the ground, "we've been fuckin' waiting, you think we have time t'wait like this?" he spat, the pilot simply apologised again and scurried off to the cockpit, rafe muttered something about talking to his father as he did.

you shook your head a little at rafe, brow slightly furrowed, of course he had to treat everyone around him like shit. the plane finally began moving, zooming down the airstrip before finally taking off into the air. you started fiddling with your pen as the two of you sat in silence before dropping it on the floor, it rolled down the passage way as the plane was still gaining height and you sighed heavily.

after the aircraft had finally levelled out, you got up and walked over to pick up your pen, bending your back all the way down. rafe's jaw ticked as he stared at you, he knew you had to be teasing him at this point.

"slut" he mumbled as you walked over to go sit back down, you paused and turned towards him with a raised eyebrow. "what was that?"

his eyes met yours and he took a long sip of whiskey before repeating himself, spelling the word out to you like you were a toddler. you scoffed at him and rolled your eyes, shaking your head, you'd been called a slut before for simply just looking the way you look.

"fuckin' walking around, bending over in those pants.. 'nd that tight top, seriously y/n?" he said, clearly and to your face now. you were stunned at the way he dared to talk to you, even more stunned when you noticed he was sporting a little something below the belt of his dress pants.

he rolled his sleeves up, a tick you noticed he had a long time ago, before taking another swig of whiskey. you tried not to stare but ultimately you couldn't deny that one of the other main reasons you hated rafe so much had to do with the fact that he was such an asshole, but such a fine asshole.

you never knew you had such a thing for veins until you started sneaking looks at rafe every time he was bothered enough to roll his sleeves up.

you stopped. "fuck off rafe, i can wear what i want. it's not like i'm wearing anything revealing, i mean, just because you got hard-"

he quickly stood up, his gaze piercing and heart stopping, you didn't even trail off from your sentence, just completely shut up. "think you can fuckin'-" he inched closer and closer, you backed up until you found yourself stopped against another chair, "think y'can talk to me like that? hmm?" the two of you were centimetres away from touching noses, you could feel his hot breath on your face as he glared down at you. jesus, you forgot how tall he was, even when you're wearing heels.

you gained the confidence to snap at him lowly, "you can't just be calling me a slut rafe." your chest was rapidly rising and falling, rafe noticed the way your tits were moving as you breathed. he scoffed, having no shame in looking right down your top, "hard to say something like that when you're standing here with your tits on display like this." he met your eyes again, his once angry expression replaced with a smirk.

he tugged at his sleeves again, readjusting one that had slipped down, you looked down at the veins trailing from his hands that disappeared into the white shirt.

"y/n." he said, calm dripping from his tone, you realised you had been staring too long, heat pooling in your tummy currently couldn't compare to the heat rushing into your cheeks. "i catch you every time y'know."

your lips parted, every time? "what're you talking about." you demanded with narrowing eyes, crossing your arms in what little room you had, only making your tits perk up more, he shamelessly shifted his gaze down again until you lifted a hand to grab his jaw, something that shocked him and he instantly grabbed your wrist and paused.

the two of you were stood there, lips centimetres away, touching felt like fire between you and the look in both of your eyes was all the confirmation the two of you needed.

rafe's grip slipped only to replant his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss. your hands slipped up his chest desperately, much to your embarrassment, but you could feel his body shudder at your touch. you both wanted this. badly.

his other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you in tightly, you melted into him, weakening over how good his touch felt. he started then tugging your shirt, trying to undo the buttons, you helped him quickly before slipping it off and starting on his shirt.

rafe now had you under him, down to nothing but your panties, even your bra was somewhere on the floor, rafe in just some boxers. you groaned into the kiss as he pressed his growing boner against your sensitive clit.

he slipped a hand down your body, his fingers landing on your sopping panties as he began to rub circles where you were most sensitive. you twitched under his touch and you could feel the cocky smirk as he kissed you. in a second it had gone from his fingers inside you to his dick now rubbing through your folds, rafe didn't have his chest against you anymore, he was watching as your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate for him.

he scoffed, "i knew you were a fuckin' slut." just as you rolled your eyes, he slipped his fat tip in, now having to bully the rest of his huge cock into your tight pussy. "jesus, shit, how're you this fuckin' tight" he groaned, finally sliding his length in to the hilt.

you gasped when he brushed that spongey spot in your cervix, "yeah? you like that shit bitch?" he grunted, now mercilessly driving his cock into you at an unforgivable speed. your eyes were rolling back, twitching as you hadn't even had a second to get used to his length.

"ugh fuck- move 'm getting on top" you demanded, he didn't argue, swapping spots with you so that you were now just above his dick, pulling your panties to the side again as you very slowly lowered onto his thick cock. he whined out, eyes going wide when he realised what he just let slip.

"who's the slut now?" you taunted, beginning to bounce on his dick, your tits bouncing with you. rafe reached up and pawed at one, rolling your nipple between his fingers harshly, you hissed but soon whined at the added stimulation. he grinned mischievously, releasing you nipple to lower his fingers to your clit.

he watched you proudly, rubbing in circles for a moment while your eyes rolled back as you continued to fuck yourself on his cock. he pinched your clit, you yelped at the feeling but the way your pussy started clenching around rafe's dick only made him do it more.

your movements grew tired, rafe noticed and planted his hands under your thighs, securing you before slamming his cock into you at a rapid pace. all you could do was go almost limp, feeling his huge dick pistoning deep inside you. "my dick's splittin' you open. you fuckin' like that shit?" his hips snap, and you squeal, your whole body jolting with every movement.

you grabbed onto a veiny arm, the sight making you chew at your lower lip as rafe continued to jackhammer into your begging cunt. "ugh- you're such a fucking piece of shit, its a shame, your dick is soo big." you groaned, digging your nails into his forearm. he smirked at your admission, repositioning himself to now sit up so your faces were inches away again.

he moved his hands to your hips, gripping harshly, you slid your arms around to the back of his shoulders, beginning to bounce and grind again. he tipped his head back letting a little "oh baby" slip.

you grinned as you were nearing your release, your pussy beginning to clamp desperately around rafe's dick, his strokes getting sloppy and harsher. his hands dug harder into your hips as you raked your nails across his back, your orgasm ripping through you finally and rafe cumming inside you just as it was ending.

you buried your face in the crook of his neck as he continued to fuck his cum into you, an evil smirk swiping across his face. when the two of you had finally steadied, reality hit like a truck.

you paused, lifting your head slowly, the two of you locked eyes and you quickly slipped off of him, taking several steps back.

"you- shit. no one can fucking know." you seethed before snatching your clothes off the floor, cursing at the fact that you were going to have to sit in cum filled panties until you could get your bigger suitcase from under the plane.

rafe scoffed, "i'm not the only one who was fucking there. and for the record i agree, this is not happening again. fuck."

but of course he was lying.

[loud-sturniolos]

“MOVE ON” pt.2

Chris finally decides to get over his ex

Warnings: smut, I think? No actual sex yet, dom!Chris kinda, almost getting caught, pet names (ma)

A/N: sorry for the switch of POV, it just felt better to do it this way for this part😭

It had been a week since the party, and you had finally gotten in contact with Chris’s older brother, Nicolas, on Instagram.

You were currently stood outside the front door of the triplets house. You knocked gently, holding Chris’s hoodie in your arms. After a moment, the door swung open and you were greeted by who you assumed to be Matthew, judging by the short hair but lack of nose piercing. “..hi.” Matt greeted awkwardly, “Can I help you?” You gave a shy smile back, “Uh, yeah, I’m here to return Chris’s hoodie.. He gave it to me at the party last week, and I didn’t get a chance to return it.” You started rambling anxiously, causing Matt to smile slightly. “Alright, alright. Uh, come in, he’s in his room.” Matt responded, leading you into the house. Matt pointed at a door, saying that’s where Chris was, and then walked away.

The soft sound of Lil Skies, Life of a Dark Rose album hit your ears as you gently knocked on the bedroom door, then opened it and stepped inside. You found Chris sat at his desk, headphones on, playing Fortnite. You stared silently, eyes scanning over his shirtless torso, and then to his light grey sweatpants. You slowly stepped forward till you were next to him, then gently poked his bicep. He jumped a little, spinning to face you with wide eyes. He pulled off his headphones, awkwardly saying “uh.. hi.” You gave a polite, but just as awkward, smile and slowly put his hoodie onto his lap, hand accidentally brushing his thigh as you did so, and he felt his cock stir slightly, which he desperately ignored. “Just came to return your hoodie.” You said with a little nod. He stood up, causing you to tilt your head up and step back a little. “Uh, I’m sorry about what happened at the party.” He said, avoiding your gaze as he placed his hoodie on his bed, ignoring the lingering scent of your perfume. “It’s fine.” You said with yet another small nod, not knowing what to do.

After a moment of awkward silence, you assumed he wanted you gone, and so you turned to leave. “Wait, where are you going?” He piped up, quickly following and blocking you from leaving. “..out. I didn’t think you’d want me here.” You say honestly, “No, no. Stay. Please.” He begs softly, looking down at you with those gorgeous blue eyes, which immediately made you cave. You hummed in response and turned, walking over to his bed and sitting down. Chris went back to his chair, sitting in it but spinning to face you. He couldn’t help but check you out, poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “So..” you started awkwardly, but were immediately cut off.

Chris stood up and pushed you onto your back, climbing on top of you and kissing your plump lips. God, he’d missed them, and it’d only been a week. You gasped softly, but you quickly kissed back with urgency. He tasted like a mix of Pepsi, and wild cherry Space Camp lip balm.

Chris trailed his hands down till they were in your sweatpants, his hands squeezing your ass tightly. You let out a soft whimper into his mouth at the roughness, arching your back up into him. His hands move around to the front of your sweats, starting to tug them down, when you’re interrupted by a knock.

“Chris, you in there? Me and Matt are going to the store, you want anything?” Nick calls through the door, making Chris groan. He quickly sits up, pulling your pants back up for you, then going to his door and opening it. “Sure, just get me some more Pepsi.” He says, slightly annoyed. “‘Kay, does your friend want anything?” Nick responds, mostly focused on his phone as he texts Matt back, “Uh, I dunno, you want anything, ma?” Chris asks as he turns to face you. “Uh, yeah, yes, please.” You respond quickly, sitting up. “Just some [your favourite candy and/drink]. Thank you.” Nick hums in acknowledgment, then turns and leaves.

Chris sighs as he turns to face you, giving you a little smile. He steps closer, gently rubbing your thigh, before murmuring softly, “Maybe we should take this slow, yeah?”

A/N: Sorry if this is kinda short, I am sick and my Tumblr keeps kicking me off and not saving anything, please bare with me😭🙏 again, not proofread, I’m to lazy for that shit

Tags:: @eddieespaghettii @loveparqdise @noplaceissafeanymore @tarafilmz

Comment to be added to the taglist for pt.3, and make sure your tags are actually on so I can tag you‼️

[secret-sturniolo]

video games - chris sturniolo

where chris gets a little carried away while cockwarming :)

a/n - watch for an updated theme and masterlist hopefully soon

Nick and Matt had left earlier in the day to go hang out with friends, but Chris decided he wasn't feeling it. So that left my boyfriend and I home alone for the rest of the day. We were just chilling, watching shows and cuddling. I noticed that Chris was more clingy than he normally is, but I didn't think much of it. Eventually we decided to play mario kart together on the nintendo switch. We played a few rounds, with Chris growing increasingly restless. Finally he spoke up, calling me over.

"Ma, come cockwarm me while we play?" He said, half asking and half telling me.

My cheeks went red. "Uhm, Chris, I don't know..." I said, unsure of it. We had never done that before, so I wasn't sure where this was coming from.

"Please babe? I just wanna be close to you." He pleaded.

I thought for a moment before giving in.

"Fine, but nothing crazy, okay?"

He nodded, patting his lap for me to come over. When I reached him, I could already see the bulge in his pants.

"Chris, you're already hard?" I laughed.

"C'mon, it's hard not to be around you."

"Shut up!" I said, playfully hitting him.

My hands found their way to his waistband, gently pulling down his sweats and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out. He let out a soft groan as the tension from his pants were released. I could see how red his tip was, already leaking precum. Not wanting to get too carried away, I turn around and position him at my entrance.

"Ready?" I ask him.

"Please."

I lower myself onto him, sighing at the feeling of him stretching me out, a feeling that I still haven't gotten used to. My back was now against his chest as I relaxed, and he wrapped his arms around me loosely as we started another round.

"Fuck, I love you so much y/n." He says, leaving a kiss on my neck.

"I love you too, Chris."

The round started, with Chris's chin resting on my shoulder as we played. We played mostly in silence, with Chris yelling out every once in a while if he got hit by a shell or fell behind. Chris ever so slightly moved his hips, causing his dick to twitch inside me. He gave me a genuine apologetic look.

"Shit, sorry y/n."

It wasn't long before he began slightly bucking up. I knew him well enough to understand what he was doing. As much as I tried to deny it to myself, I was actually getting turned on.

"Chris, I told you nothing more than cockwarming! What are you trying to do?"

"I know baby, but I can't help it! Can I please fuck you?" He begged.

At this point my pussy was practically throbbing, and Chris knew it.

"C'mon, I know you want it..." He trailed off.

I stood up, both of us gasping at the loss of sensation.

"I guess we better take this to your room then, yeah?" I said, teasingly.

Within a second he was grabbing my hands and walking us to his room downstairs. He shut the door, locking it behind us. He wasted no time pulling me to the bed, kissing me hungrily. My hands went up his shirt, scraping my nails down his back and stomach, knowing it drives him crazy. He groaned into my mouth before grabbing my wrist and guiding it down to his crotch, making me feel how hard he was. I wrapped my hand around his clothed shaft, slowly jerking him through his pants.

"Suck my dick?" he said, more telling than asking.

I hummed in agreement. I hooked my fingers into his waistband, swiftly pulling them down and letting his cock spring out. I wasted no time taking him in my mouth after licking a stripe up the shaft. Soft groans spilled out of his mouth, finally getting the relief that he needed. He gathered my hair into a makeshift ponytail and held my head, encouraging me to take more of him. I paid special attention to his tip, kitten licking it just to tease him. His hips bucked involuntarily before pulling out of my mouth.

"Sorry, but I don't wanna cum yet baby." he said, pulling his shirt over his head leaving him naked. I did the same, quickly removing my clothes while he watched my every movement. Once we were both bare, I crawled back onto the bed, attempting to straddle him.

"Nope. I love you, but I'm on top tonight." he said, flipping us over so he was now hovering over me.

His hand reached down, running through my folds.

"Damn, so wet for me already y/n."

"Mmm, Chris please just fuck me!"

He kissed me as he began teasing his tip at my entrance. My hips moved with his, yearning for friction. Finally, he pushed in slowly, giving me a few moments to warm up to his size. That didn't last long, as he quickly sped up his movements, hooking one of my legs around his waist for a better angle. A string of curses left my mouth as I was overwhelmed with pleasure. My hands roamed his body, lightly scratching down his back and shoulders.

"Choke me." I surprised even myself by saying this, but I was dying to feel his hands around my neck.

He did as I asked, making sure to not hurt me, but applying just the right amount of pressure. He smirked down at me, loving the effect he had on me. He knew he was driving me crazy.

His thrusts gradually got faster and harder, until I felt myself getting close. I couldn't hold on much longer.

"Chris, I'm close!" I whined.

"I know baby, just a little longer. Hold on."

I was sent over the edge when his thumb came down, rubbing circles on my clit. I came forcefully as he felt me clench around him. His thrusts became erratic and I could tell he was close. With a loud grunt, he pulled out of me, aiming his hips toward my tits. I watched his stomach muscles contract as he jerked himself, his warm cum shooting out onto my chest. We were both a moaning mess, trying to catch our breath and still feeling the effects of our orgasms.

"Damn, we should play mario kart more often if this is how its going to turn out!" he joked

I giggled. "Yes, yes we should."

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Stanford Pines & Borrower!GN!Reader

[PLATONIC] Borrowers are really tiny humans who "borrow" items and food! requested,,, am so sorry if this isn't what u expected 😔

Ford's toothbrush is missing.

In fact, many of his things have gone missing for the past few days. Did Bill possess his body again and decide to prank him?

His eyes catch color behind the toilet. Ah, there's his toothbrush. It must have fallen off.

When he picked it up, it was much heavier than usual. Of course, anything else could've been a reasonable explanation and not some tiny human holding onto the toothbrush for their dear life.

Ford doesn't let you escape, immediately bringing you to his office. You spit out profanities on the way, banging your fists on his fingers.

"Fascinating," he mutters, moving your limbs around. "You're just a tiny human."

"They call us borrowers," you say as you keep avoiding his hands. You notice something. "You have six fingers. Did giants always have that? Never noticed."

He suddenly feels smaller than you. "Not usually."

Ford learned that you actually lived under his floorboards. He had to compromise with you so that you would stop stealing his stuff.

"Roommates?" you tilt your head. "As long as you don't kill me, I guess. And I said I was going to return it!"

He doesn't believe you. He hums, scratching his chin. "Your species must have been hit by the light of height-altering crystals. I'm guessing the way your people survive is by stealing from others."

"Borrowing."

He gave you all sorts of delicious food. Well, they're mostly store-bought, but it's better than anything you've gotten before.

Not to mention his stuff. He had way more than what you were expecting. All the more to decorate your house and expand your collections! He's generous; you'll give him that...

There's something you can't shake off though. Ford's a weirdo if anything.

Bill Cipher knows about you. But he doesn't really care because you're just like any other creature that Ford has gotten. He'll only intervene if you manage to distract Ford from the portal.

So it's a good thing you're doing the opposite. You're actually helping in your own little ways, such as bringing him pen and paper.

Sitting on Ford's shoulder, you keep yapping about rats eating your house. He doesn't mind the noise, albeit he's not really listening, but it's so much better than silence.

He has fallen asleep. You grab the blanket from a nearby table and drape it over his body the best you can. This man does more work than your entire lifespan; it's so concerning.

"You don't want to try becoming a full-sized human? Why not?" Ford asks sincerely, almost concerned. You becoming not tiny is what you were supposed to be.

"Me? Turning into your size?" you make a disturbed face, "no thanks. I feel like my life would be more complicated. You're taking care of me, and that's enough."

He smiles. "Interesting."

Once again, you find him asleep on the desk. You search for a good spot next to his arm and curl up to his warmth, closing your eyes and drifting to sleep.

...You wake up to relentless movement. Looking up, you meet Ford's crazed, hectic eyes.

"You," he exhales, his voice sounding different. "Not here to steal my eyes, are you?"

Without warning, he grabs your body. You tremble. "Bill didn't tell you to, right? You're the perfect size to scoop out someone's eye..."

"Ford—" A bright flashlight shines on your eyes.

He forces one eye open. A few seconds pass. "You're, ah, clear. I'm so sorry."

The human finally lets you go. "What the hell was that?! Are you okay??"

"There's something dangerous here," he winces as he goes around the room, locking all possible entrances. "We have to stop everything we've ever worked for! What I worked for!"

He walks over to you, a smile curling on his lips. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, little borrower. Won't let him lay a single finger on you."

Before you could even blink, you're pushed inside something. You quickly run to the front, holding the bars that kept you away from escaping. "Wait, let me go! You're being crazy!"

"I know this seems bad, but it's only temporary," he replies, locking your cage. "Not until I finish the protection around the house. I'll have to call Stan..."

yes he has cages.... he caged shmebulock 😭

gotta thank @shabbyshoebox for this treasure (tell me if u wanna be untagged!)

[hxzbinwrites]

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Ignorant In Love

(Lovestruck Part 2)

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Violence, Vox being annoying

————

4:30am

Vox woke up, yelping as he sprung out of bed. Not a great decision for his sore back as his clawed hand immediately went to brace it. Groaning, his eyes fluttered, attempting to recall what got him in such a tizzy waking up

Right. Another dream.

Vox had been, haunted, by that humiliating event last week. Even more so that he finally realize how incredibly enamored he was with her.

His screen flushing red at this realization of his current situation, Vox decided to rise out of bed. What good was sulking going to do?

Since that day, (Y/n) hadn’t smiled once more at him. Oh how he craves it. Vox acts like he doesn’t care, but he’s aching for another fix. Another high of seeing that smile. He would do anything and everything just to experience that euphoria one last time, just one drop of it.

Getting dressed for the day, Vox was looking at his bow tie collection, seeking out one of his favorite ties before realizing it had been ruined from the coffee.

Frustrated, he grabbed a random one from the pile, not really thinking too much about it as he put it on.

He stomped out of his quarters, his heels dramatically clacking against the floor as he made his way to his office. It was far too early in the morning for anyone to be active, too late for Val to be doing work (at least IN the office, and not at the club), so the quite walk gave his ever-running mind more time to think

What the hell has gotten into him?! He’s a VEE, THE VEE. If anything, this is woman should be loosing sleep and foaming over him!

‘That’s what I like most though’, He thought to himself,’She’s real. She doesn’t tell me just what I want to hear, or cause problems for me, she’s just…her, and she simply does it best.’

His internal conflicts were brought to an end once he finally sat down in his chair. Cracking his sore, aching joints, before booting up his monitor system.

————

8:30am

(Y/n)‘s heels clacked against the tiled floors, making her way to her desk. Her desk was one of those circular desks that curved around the middle and touched both sides of the wall. There was a small door on the side that she could enter from, but it blended in seamlessly with the black desk, so it would be hard for someone who didn’t work here on a daily to find.

Once she entered her cubicle-like desk, she logged onto her monitor, clocking in. 8:30am sharp, as always. She began to work on her boss’s meetings, but her eye caught a certain one for today “errand.”

This caught her eye, as Vox always made her run errands during work hours. Mostly for coffee, but she’s ran to the convenience store in the lobby for strange things as well.

“Hmm” she mumbled, before printing off the schedule regardless and putting it in her folder for later at 10.

That was her routine, print off the original schedule for the day, present it to him at 10, and if edits are needed, she’d come back and re-arrange some things, and repeat the process until it was to his liking.

(Y/n)‘s hardest part of the job was the PR portion of it. Normally, it’s for the PR team, but they got sick of the Vees tantrums and the entire department up and quit. Now, (Y/n) handles Vox’s PR, Velvette’s assistant handles hers, and Vox handles Valentino’s himself.

Speaking of PR, she was in for a doozy today. Last Friday, when the coffee incident took place, apparently Vox said some…choice words…to the Radio Demon, and Alastor relayed that information back to his listeners on his radio show.

Sighing, (Y/n) began typing a public rebuttal, going for the “deny and victim blame” strategy, as Velvette called it.

‘Why does Vox have to act so…stupid’ (Y/n) thought, her stoic face staying steady as her fingers flew across the keyboard,’For someone so smart, he sure acts dumb. Maybe he should just be a model for Velvette instead, he’s sure got the looks for it, but he doesn’t have the social skills for a public viewpoint like this-‘

“(Y/N). MY OFFICE. IMMEDIATELY.” Vox yelled.

Her eyes flicker up from her monitor, which was now adorned with two clawed hands gripping the top of it. Vox was leaning over it, his tall, slender frame allowing his screened face to intrude (Y/n)’s personal space, but it’s not like that hasn’t been done the before the weekend.

Locking eyes, he saw the flick of emotion run through her, he almost for a moment let his anger go, almost. He could hear her mumbling those things about him. About how “stupid” he was, his “dumb actions….how “he’s got the looks”….never mind that last part.

“Sir..?” She said, her face immediately turning back cold. Ah, there it goes again, fleeting like time itself.

“Don’t sir me,” Vox said, shoving the monitor who knows where. He crawled on the desk towards (Y/n), before grabbing her chin, pulling her towards him. The force from his arm made it where she was on her feet, but she was now hovering over her chair. Vox cocked his head at her, narrowing his eyes and he whispered towards her.

“I heard you mumbling about me over there. Insubordination will not be…tolerated, at this company. If you want to keep this job, and your soul, I suggest you meet me in my office.”

He let go of her chin, before sliding back off of her desk, and walking towards his office. Vox’s hands were clasped behind his back, as he glanced over his shoulder one last time to look if she was following him.

(Y/n) got up and started walking behind him, her face not giving away any emotion.

‘DAMN IT.’ He thought, his mood growing worse,’That whole little stunt was just to get a rise out of her. To get something!’

————

10:00am

Once they arrived in his office, the door slammed shut behind them. Vox’s electrical bolt from his fingertip locked the door, as he walked towards his chair, took a seat, and swiveled it around to see an unamused (Y/n) awaiting his words.

“So, (Y/n)” He started, his claws tapping against one another, “Would you like to repeat, word for word, what you were mumbling about me, or should I repeat it for you?”

“Okay, I asked myself why you acted so stupid. Your actions are ignorant and your social skills need heavy improvement.” (Y/n) said,”also, for your schedule today you have a meeting at-“

“No no no sugar.” Vox said, smirking as he crossed his legs,”Tell me everything you said.”

“I did” She lied, standing her ground.

“Ah, so Im not good enough to be a model anymore? That’s a shame, I would’ve loved to give you a show, but alas.” He sneered, trying to desperately to get a reaction out of her, but failing miserably.

“Ah, a shame indeed.” She said, deadpanned,”Now, todays schedule consists of one meeting with Valentino at 7:30pm and during your 3:30 slot all it says is ‘Errand’? Sir, I’m confused about that portion, don’t I normally run your errands..?”

Vox gritted his teeth, his hand now clenching the sides of his chair. This was getting ridiculous, no emotions out of this one. God, he should just pour an entire mountain of coffee on himself, muck up his PC and everything just to see her smile.

“I was originally planning to get my clothes back from the dry cleaners myself, but I see that as punishment enough for today. Do it and get out of my office.”

“A-Alright sir.” (Y/n) said. They locked eyes, and Vox immediately regretted pushing so far for a reaction. Her eyes showed hurt in them.

Vox couldn’t bring himself to say anything, his face contorted with many emotions. One side of him was over the moon, he made her show something! The other side was in immense regret, he didn’t want to hurt her, that was by far from the plan.

Once she left the office, he started throwing monitors again in frustration.

————

10:30am

(Y/n) didn’t even return to her desk, instead opting for a little stroll down to the convenience store down in the lobby. She picked up a drink and a candy bar to take back to her desk as a little pick me up

Well, she attempted to go back to her desk, she ended up just going to a secluded corner in the building, only adorned by a lonely bench, a plant, and a security camera in the hallway.

(Y/n) sat there on the bench, sighing from stress and she took a chunk of her candy bar.

Sitting there, she replayed the interaction in her mind once more. The way he was so, powerful, it made her cheeks dust pink, with equal parts admiration and humiliation as she smiled to herself, lowering her head. She softly chuckled before taking her wrapper of her snack and going to seek out a trash can.

Little did she know that Vox was watching her every move on his monitor, stalking every security camera that tipped off her motion. He was nearly short circuiting at her little smile. Vox noticed how her shoulders bounced as she chucked slightly. He really wished he could just call her into his office, but it was already time for her to pick up his dry cleaning. Sighing to himself, he adjusted his bow tie.

Out of his entire collection, he just had to pick the most irritating one out of all of them. It was entirely too tight and the material was so unpleasant.

Sighing, he just untied it and threw it on his desk, reveling a small sliver of his skin beneath it.

————

3:45pm

“I’m here to pick up Vox’s clothes.” (Y/n) said, making the worker scramble to go retrieve the Overlord’s clothes.

“H-Here you go ma’am! Do you mind checking to see if everything is in there? We don’t want to forget any article of our valuable costumer’s clothing!”

“Sure” She replied with her signature neutral expression, opening up the box of neatly folded clothes to see his entire wardrobe from that day, except something was missing…a key part of his ensemble.

“Ah, where is his bow tie?”

“Oh, did he not tell you? We had to return it to him, the fabric of it was too thin, it would’ve burnt up in the dryer.”

“Oh, well thank you.” (Y/n) said,”everything looks like it’s in order.”

“Have a good day!” The worker said, earning a nod from (Y/n) as she walked out of the dry cleaners.

‘He wore that bow tie often’ (Y/n) thought to herself,’ Maybe since I pissed him off earlier today, I can get him another to make it up to him.’

She strolled by the clothing district before entering the tailors shop, browsing the different selection of items for a while before the clerk cleared his throat.

“Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah yes, I’m looking for a bow tie with a certain fabric to it. It’s rather thin, I need a replacement.”

“You? A replacement?” The man chuckled, looking over at her,”I think I know which one you’re talking about, but I dare say I don’t think you’re in the tax bracket to be purchasing that.”

“I’ll purchase what I please.” (Y/n) retorted, her dead eyes looking into the man’s cocky ones

“Oh really? And who is this for?”

“Vox.”

The man started howling in laughter,”YOU?! FOR THE TECH OVERLORD?? OH PLEASE I-“

(Y/n) briskly walked over and slammed the man’s head down on the table.

“Yes. I suggest you make it quick due to your little interruption.”

“And why should I?”

(Y/n) gripped him by the hair, making his eyes meet hers,”Vox is my boyfriend, and so help me I’ll let him tear you limb from limb just because I said pretty please, now fucking do it.”

“Y-Yes ma’am.” He said, as she let go of his hair, he scrambled to the back room to give her a lavish tie. Instead of the navy blue one he had previously, it was near black with bright blue strips adorning the sides of the fabric where it curved in on itself.

“Hmm, this will do.” (Y/n) said, snatching the box before walking away.

“W-Wait, aren’t you going to pay?”

“Pay? You should be dead where you stand for messing with me today. This is your pay.”

And with that, she walked out of the store, leaving the man shocked.

————

8:00pm

Walking into Vox’s office, (Y/n) looked around to see Vox nowhere in sight.

“Ah right,” (Y/n) muttered to herself, despite the fact that very action got her in a tight situation with her boss earlier that day,”Meeting with Valentino. I’ll just set his stuff down here.”

(Y/n) looked around once more, before setting his clothes neatly on the desk. Patting it down to remove it of any lint that couldn’t accrued on the bag, before setting the nicely wrapped gift atop of it, adorning it with a letter signed to him.

————

9:00pm

Vox groggily walked back into his office, after his “productive” meeting with Valentino on his public image. Not a word went to that moth’s head. One ear and out the freaking other.

He closed his eyes, plopping down unceremoniously into his chair, not even bothering for the brooding dramatics this time.

Rubbing his eyes, he really contemplated calling it quits early tonight. But alas, Vox never does, that’s the mantra of a workaholic.

His digital eyes fluttering open once more, he gazed upon the clothes neatly laid there for him. Smiling he looked at it before his smile turned into confusion. Why was there a box? Wrapped with a ribbon…?

He slowly and gently grabbed onto the small box, unwrapping it like an inpatient child on Christmas morning, only to reveal a new bow tie, the one he ached for the entire day.

This one was nicer though, how she scrounged up some money to “buy it”, he didn’t know, but he was eternally grateful.

His eye caught the letter that was now sitting beside where the box was, it fell off when Vox took the box. He held the envelope and slit the seal with his claw like a letter opener.

“Dear Vox,

I sincerely apologize for this morning. I was out of line. I just don’t really know how to process everything. I feel like you’d understand being mechanical and all, but I don’t know how to process emotion.

Normally, I feel nothing towards anyone, but there’s something weird going on. This strangely warm feeling in my chest and my face, I feel clammy around you, and you specifically.

Feel free to ignore this, but here’s my number. Contact me if you are willing to help my predicament. Enjoy the gift regardless, you deserve it. Also, stop coming to work at 5 in the morning. You’re not sneaky, I see when you’ve clocked in on your schedule.

-(Y/n) (L/n)”

Vox was beaming, a pure genuine smile. He might be a lovestruck fool, but she’s ignorantly in love.

————

Word Count: 2,540

(Part 3?)

TAGLIST

@burningfishkidlamp

@koji-akeme

@callmechito

@neito327

@chocolat3pudding

@yellowsubiesdance

[obsessedwrhys]

I would like to request being sickly sweet/mushy with ROTTMNT Leo- I'm talking always kissing, cuddling, holding hands, giggling, holding/carrying each other around and even using the most dramatic names (mostly to mess with the rest of the Hamato family- April included) ie. Calling each other shmoopie poo and stuff like that

LOVESICK!LEO DATING HEADCANONS

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ major fluff, lots of cheesy stuff, reader is fem!! (I love this ask sm)

To put it together, you both act like those highschool sweethearts.

One wouldn't be seen without the other, everyone just immediately sees you two as a pair that does everything together.

The dates would be so over the top too.

The most recent one would be when he prepared a dinner date on top of a musuem so you guys could enjoy the view. The place completely decorated with flowers and fairy lights.

Ya'll would definitely have matching things. It doesn't matter if it's a bracelet, necklace or onesie. You both just have the urge to have something that reminds you of the other person.

Which comes easily that you'd own something of his and him having something of yours.

Apparently he had given you his old bandana when he had gotten a new one. Instead of leaving it lying around to catch dust, you decided to use it as a ribbon for a hairtie. Trust that the first time he saw you with it, dude was levitating with heart eyes.

For him, you had gifted him a scarf. He was on cloud nine when he got it because it was entirely your scent. He would smell it every now and then or just wear it when you'd be busy with your daily tasks. It brings him comfort.

That's why everytime you visited after a long time, he'd completely shower you with cuddles and kisses. He doesn't really care if his family sees. Boy is just overjoyed to finally spend time with you again.

Even though his family are happy for him. They honestly wished he could tone it down a bit.

That's because he wouldn't even focus during patrols or missions because he'd just be talking about you. It drives his brothers nuts sometimes.

"Aw man! I forgot to tell (Y/N) goodnight!" Leo panicked.

"We're fighting off a huge squid monster and THATS your concern?!!" Donnie shouted while fending off one of the tentacles.

To be clear, the family doesn't hate you, they are actually welcoming towards you. It's just HIM they find annoying.

It got even worse when they overheard the petnames you both had for each other.

Ranging from petnames such as Booboo Bear to my little ketchup packet (???)

It's worst when he says them in a baby voice towards you.

"Here's your food! I got it all for my shnookums wookums" He'd say as he caresses your face.

Since he's so in love with you, he's willing to give you piggyback rides and carry you around the lair. He's so dramatic with it too.

"Make way!!! The queen is headed to the kitchen!!" He'd shout, making your grand entrance known to everyone nearby.

He has once pushed Donnie aside when he wouldn't move out of the way.

Also, Leo enjoys kissing you a lot. I'm just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️

His favourite spots to kiss you would be easily your cheeks. He finds them super cute that he wishes he would just leave his lips on there forever.

If you happen to have a mole on your face or anywhere on your body, he's kissing it, that's cause he sees it as a marking for him.

One thing I wanna say is that you two happen to have this weird habit of acting out scenes from any tv series you guys would watch together.

It catches the family off guard sometimes because you guys would just break into character out of nowhere.

Scenario ↴

"Pumpy-umpy-umpkin, could you pass me the salt?" You'd ask and Leo would suddenly turn to face you with a soft smirk.

"Oh my sugar-plum, here you go, just the way you love it" He'd say in a more dramatic voice as he hands it to you.

"Uh oh..."

"Oh, you know me so well. A little sprinkle of love… and salt" You'd say, sprinkling the salt into your soup.

"I always do sprinkle a little bit of extra salt in your life, you know... to keep things exciting" He winks at you which earns a disgusted groan out of his brother.

"Uuugggh!! C'mon!!!"

"Don't get carried away now cuppy-cake. I still want you to enjoy our lovely soup" You'd say, feeding him a spoonful that he drinks with a satisfied hum.

"It's perfect... just perfect. We must celebrate this!! To eternal love, salted and peppered!!" Leo would say, holding up his drink, pretending it was wine as he takes a huge gulp from it.

"You guys need help and I mean serious help" April said, pointing her spoon at both of you.

It's always fun to act it out (only for you two) because it would end with you and him bursting into laughter everytime.

Last thing I wanna add is that Leo definitely prepares the bed before you guys cuddle.

He always make sure everything is in place. The pillows, the blankets, some squishmallows, whatever it is that you need!!!

Honestly? He is 100% a loverboy.

[cutestbow]

𝐏𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞 - L.H

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - suggestive, and that should be it if not let me know!!, 18+ plus readers only!!

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - in which Fem!reader accidentally puts the wrong perfume on

You were in a rush so you weren’t really paying attention to what you were doing which now looking back you should have. You and Luke were getting ready to go out and celebrate with the team after their win against the Blues, if you guys wanted to be there on time you would’ve had to leave right this second. “Luke, would you give me a second?” You shouted trying to put your belongings in your purse.

You don’t recall putting perfume on before he started rushing you, so you quickly grabbed one of the small glass bottles of perfume that your friend had gifted you for your birthday a few months ago and putting it in your purse. Once you and Luke finally got out the house and on the road you had completely forgotten about the perfume until you guys were sat at a red light, You pulled the little pink glass bottle out of your bag popping the lid off without looking at the label and rubbing it on your neck and wrist.

a few minutes after applying the perfume you noticed Luke taking quick glances at you every once and while, but knowing Luke you didn’t think anything of it. Once you guys got out of the car and started making your way to the doors of the bar you felt Luke’s hand wrap around your arm pulling you closer to him. “Luke!” You gasped due to his nose poking your neck.

“what is that?” He asked pulling you closer then you already were

“what?” You questioned looking up at him confused.

“That smell, did you get new perfume?” He asks grabbing your wrist and smelling it.

“No?, I’ve had this one for a while, why do you not like it?” You asked frowning up at him.

“I love it” he says kissing your cheek then trailing down your neck.

“Luke!” You exclaim pushing his head away from you neck and pulling him inside the bar quickly being greeted by the team, some shouting and some quickly grabbing Luke and taking him somewhere else. You watch as Luke turns his head and winks at you. What has gotten into him tonight you thought.

Later on you decided to sit at the bar with some of the wags and girlfriends of some of the players. “Damn, you smell good.” one of the wags spoke up causing your cheeks to turn a shade of pink. before you could even respond you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and a head hiding in the crook of your neck, “hi baby,” Luke whispered in your ear.

“Hi lukey.” You responded running your fingers through his curls.

“You smell so good,” he said kissing your neck softly and smirking when he feels you shiver underneath him.

“Luke,” you laugh nervously trying to push him away eventually giving up when he doesn’t move but instead slides his hand from your waist to your thighs rubbing them gently, causing your breath to get caught in your throat.

You hear Jack call for him and his hands stop. “Let the girl breathe for Christ sake.” Jack laughs pulling Luke away from you. You watch as jack drags Luke back over to their little corner of the bar before turning back around smiling to yourself after the little encounter with Luke.

“Pheromone.” You hear one of the wags say causing you to snap out of your thoughts and look at the older woman as she looks as if she just solved a puzzle.

“What?” You say confused.

“It’s pheromone, here let me see the perfume you used” she said holding her hand out, and you quickly obliged fishing for the little glass bottle in your purse handing it to her, she laughed confusing you even more.

“What is it?” You asked genuinely confused.

“This perfume, it has pheromone in it” she says pointing to the bottle.

“Oh, what is that?” You asked cheeks turning pink out of embarrassment not knowing if it was a dumb question or not.

She sighs but continues to explain “it’s a kind of chemical that triggers social responses in people the responses mostly being attraction, arousal, sexual desire.. and lucky you, you got the exact one, just for luring men in.” she says smirking at you causing you to hide your face as your cheeks burned red.

“Oh no,” you say mentally cursing yourself. It all made sense now, why Luke was being so clingy and touchy.

“Yep” she says giggling a bit, “your in for a night” she laughs as your face gets redder than it already is.

A few hours later your still sat at the bar talking to another wag a different on this time when two arms barricade where your sat, you turn around meeting a smirking luke.

“Hi baby,” he smiles looking down at you

You let out a long sigh before responding “hi Lukey” you say quietly.

“Ready to go home?” He asks tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your waist drawing random shapes.

“Mhm.” you respond nodding softly.

“Words baby,” he says stopping his movements.

“Yes I’m ready to go home.” you say resting your hand on his arm

“Good girl” his response shooting straight down to your core as he wraps his hand around your neck pulling you into a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t like a regular kiss you guys have here and there, no, this was a desire filled kiss. You pulled away nervously before it could get any further.

“C’mon” he says moving out your way letting you get up before resting his hand on the small of your back pulling you closer to him.

And as you two walked out the bar you knew this was going to be a long night

[tinydumpsterdiver]

So... It's been a little while.

I've been wanting to come back to this account for a while now. But I had a major art block spanning up until a month or two ago. I've just started to be able to draw again in these recent weeks, before I was working on physical sculptures and paintings and that was able to help my creative spirit come back little by little!!

As a little apology for just ghosting this page here are a few little g/t sketches that I've gotten done recently

For real just random shit because I'm just trying to get back into the groove

SO I decided to try and do a redesign, but it ended up sort of just a redraw mostly. Just minor tweaks here and there.

Axle, the little guy I missed him. He looks mostly the same since his original design is actually a redraw of a really really old oc, so I'm still happy with his design for now

Aiden, or at least that's what I've finally settled on calling him and got a few small things changed too. I tried to make him look punk or alt but I am NOT a fashionista and I have no clue how to design fashion so this is the best I got. (Also its something simple enough that I can draw it over and over again)

And finally here's just something I thought would be funny

Yeah so the whole time I was gone I wasn't drawing or practicing or anything... (I'll probably talk about it sometime maybe.) So I'm pretty rusty at art for now but it's a start.

I'm also working on an exciting project but I'm debating whether I want to share any small details as it's a story for a book (Hopefully). We'll see where that ends up though.

If you made it this far thank you! I hope to see you again soon!