#I think they were maybe naive to think he’d changed but man I get it

[crmsndragonwngss]

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[userlando]

a different light — max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader [6.9k] summary: you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend) warnings: 18+ explicit smut, idiots in love, friends to lovers a/n: idk what it is with me and writing fics at work, but here i am again. i had SO much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading this ♡

Max hadn’t experienced many moments where he felt true and utter bliss, especially when he was growing up. His home life made it hard, and he’d rejected any type of positive feelings for a long time until you came along. You’d been a force to be reckoned with, matching Max’s energy so well that it wasn’t hard to build a solid friendship that would last for as long as it did.

He found comfort in your soft skin, in your reassuring smile. Even in the way your voice would get all high pitched when you told a white lie. You’d been his one true pillar when his career went from karting to racing, becoming a known household name in the chaos of it all. You’d kept his feet on the ground when he needed it most, and there was no amount of money to ever repay you for everything you’d done for him, and you vice versa.

So, he found comfort in a lot of things when it came to you. But you, sitting close to him when you had so many seats and chairs to choose from? That was everything.

You had claimed the two-seater for yourselves, but it didn’t stop you from snuggling right up to your best friend’s side with his arm around you and your head comfortably resting on his pectoral. It was a common occurence, you so deeply embedded in his arms that it might as well have been a permanent shape of you on his skin. Max had grown up with you, so he'd basically memorized the smell of your shampoo that you'd used since you were fifteen, the freckles and moles on your face and how goosebumps rose on your skin at the slightest cold breeze because that's who you were.

He'd naively thought it to be normal, to be so in tune with his best friend and it wasn't until he'd entered early adulthood and actually spent time with his friends on the grid that he realized that maybe it wasn't usual.

He still remembered the day he'd brought you along for the Baku Grand Prix and you'd mentioned being childhood friends in a passing conversation, registering the sheer looks of confusion coming from his friends. It had made him flush, a little embarrassed and a little confused until Daniel had hooked an arm around his shoulders and murmured I've been going around for three months thinking she was your girlfriend, man.

Max had shoved his friend and pulled a face, the usual ‘gross, she’s like a sister’ phrase on his tongue that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. But it had stuck with him for the rest of that day, and the more he thought about it, the more Daniel was probably right in thinking so.

Max couldn't pinpoint what exactly had shifted after that day, but he knew that something had changed. He became hyper aware of your touches and lingering looks, your ability to flirt but still toe the line of it being a little too inappropriate.

Sharing hotel rooms became weird, and it dawned on Max that maybe the two of you were acting a little too much like a couple when he found himself in bed with you snoring by his side, Daniel's words still haunting him like a ghost at the corner of the king sized bed.

He’d stared at your face in the dark for an hour, the street lights doing a good job of contouring your face in the dark and he’d felt a knot in his stomach when you’d shifted in your slumber and reached for something. He hadn’t realized what you looked for until you placed your hand on his arm.

Not grabbing. Just… setting it there like you needed his comfort even in your sleep. Such a simple gesture that had shook your best friend to the core.

The Aussie made it, along with Lando, his life's mission to send looks and make comments after that race weekend in Baku.

That was eight months ago, and they clearly had no intention of stopping as you sat in the backyard of Carlos' family vacation home in Palma de Mallorca, surrounded by drivers and their partners alike. You’d been there for two days, the relaxation already blanketing your group the more you spent time in the ocean and dozed in the loungers. The nights consisted of card games, drinking games and bonfires until someone had the stupid idea to go for a dip in the sea that just so happened to be in your backyard.

You'd been dozing tonight, finding it hard to stay awake with the way Max's fingers absentmindedly drew patterns up and down your drawn up legs.

The sun had clearly done its number on you during the day, draining every bit of energy you’d had. Heat and humidity always did that to you, so it wasn’t a surprise that you’d find the comfort of your best friend’s embrace the moment everyone sat down and curl up much like a cat.

The rhythm of his chest was enough to lull you into a sense of security, watching your group of friends across the table as they played Uno with the occassional accusation and shouts that came with playing the card game.

It had been Charles' idea to play it, clearly wanting to see the world burn as he put a group of competitive people into a game of Uno. It had been great entertainment though, your lips curled into a permanent amused smile as you watched on in silence.

Lando pulled a draw four card, setting it down with a grin and Carlos cursed in Spanish, clearly annoyed as he shoved the curly haired boy. A ripple of laughter tore through the group at the display, and you figured that it wasn't long before the game would dissolve into angry arguments.

"You can't beat the master of Uno." Lando said, clearly looking to agitate the Spaniard as the black haired man picked up an additional four cards to his already stacked hand.

"You've lost the last four games, mate." Charles muttered into his glass, taking a sip of his icy margarita for good measure.

"My luck is turning, mate.” Lando flipped him off, earning laughter from Pierre and George. “Get off my back."

You watched them bicker, thoughts stuttering to a halt when Max shifted beneath you. He drew the hand that had been on your legs up, ruffling your hair gently and you glanced up at him.

"Have you fallen asleep on me yet?" He asked quietly, for your ears only and you grinned sleepily, the perfect picture of comfortable.

“Not yet.” You muttered, covering your mouth as a yawn took you by surprise and Max smiled in amusement.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He glanced up at the boys when their voices picked up volume. “Get out before this becomes massacre.”

You laughed, nodding your head in agreement and letting him pull you up. No one really noticed as you slipped away, or if they did, they didn’t question it.

The voices of your friends faded into the background the further you got away from the house, grass and gravel transformed into cobblestones leading up to the town and further from the ocean.

“It’s so pretty here.” You mused, looking down the cobbled path, lit up by street lamps. “I’d love to live some place like this, some day.”

Max’s brows furrowed, following your gaze before looking at you questioningly.

“You basically do.” He said, humourous lilt to his voice. “Mooching off of me, living it up in Monaco.”

It would’ve made you feel self-conscious and even a little embarrassed if those words had come from anyone else but Max, but you’d been friends for so long that you knew when he was joking and when he was being serious. And in this case, it was the former. It was evident in the teasing smile and his light voice, aside from the fact that he’d always find a way to rebook your flight and beg you to stay for a few more days. As if you hadn’t been with him for a week already, as if you didn’t attend nearly every race because he claimed that he didn’t want anyone else around but you.

You were aware that it wasn’t a normal friendship, what the two of you had. And you knew that people thought it to be unbelievable that you weren’t romantically involved, some days you questioned that yourself. But that was a whole can of worms that you weren’t ready to crack open just yet. It felt too dangerous.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You said, voice airy as you tossed your hair over your shoulder and skipped a step forward before turning and walking backwards in front of Max. He arched a confused brow, almost disappearing under his cap and the sight was a little too funny. “As soon as I find another man to live off of. Preferably handsome and rich.”

You were kidding, obviously, but the thought still made something sour well up in Max’s throat and he struggled to not frown in annoyance. He looked away, making it seem as if he was admiring the ocean view that he could barely see in the dark, when he was in fact trying to shield his face from your attentive eyes.

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” He said, cursing himself when his voice shook. It was so minimal though and you thankfully didn’t call him out on it. ”I mean, look at you.”

There was an awkward silence seeping into the space between you and you tried to maintain the aloof expression on your face but it was hard when your stomach was doing weird flip flops. Look at you.

“And also,” Max continued, rushing to fill the silence and break the sudden and rare awkwardness. “You’ve got me as your wingman.”

That made you laugh, and something like relief flooded Max’s stomach.

“Wingman? Right.” You turned, walking ahead of him and the boy frowned at the disbelieving tone in your voice.

“What do you mean? I’m an excellent wingman.” He jogged up to catch up with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in.

It always amused him how you stumbled into his embrace whenever he did that, always so caught off guard but never once doubting that he’d be there to keep you upright. It was his favourite thing to do, mainly because you’d grumble and peer up at him with your eyes and Max would grin like the close proximity didn’t make him want to vomit with how much he craved to press his lips to yours. Just to see what it’d be like.

“Max,” you rolled your eyes. “No one ever dares to approach me when you’re by my side. You’re like a guard dog.”

“What?” He pulled back a little to look at your face, still keeping his arm around you. “I’m not! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You scare off every single man!” Your voice went high in amusement and something else that he couldn't put his finger on. At Max’s furrowed brows, you sucked your teeth in exasperation and continued, “Last weekend, we were out in Monaco, remember? Two guys approached me, and you just magically seemed to show up and stake your claim. You might as well have peed all over me.”

The furrow between Max’s eyebrows seemed to deepen, feeling a little lost all of a sudden because you sounded genuinely upset and he didn’t know what to do with that.

“That's disgusting. And I wasn’t staking anything.” Max grumbled when the silence stretched on. “They were idiots anyway. Who wears sunglasses inside a club? At night?"

The both of you stared at each other as you walked and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle that broke the sudden tension. Just the sound of it made Max relax a little from where he'd suddenly gone tense.

“He was kind of a loser, wasn’t he?” You agreed, because it was true. “But you still scare every guy off.”

Okay, so maybe he did. And he’d done so unintentionally until last year before his feelings for you started to enter dangerous territory. Whereas before, he’d genuinely think that the guys you dated were total idiots, now he’d find a way to glare and act standoffish until the men took that as a sign and bailed.

“Sorry.” He said, but he really wasn’t. And you clearly didn’t believe he was sincere, judging by the arched brows on your forehead. “What? I am.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because you weren’t really upset about the fact that Max managed to chase men off whenever they got close to you. It was just the fact that he ran them off and then continued to act as if his actions didn’t have any hidden motives.

There was clearly something between the two of you, and it scared you but it also made you want more. Max was just too much of a wuss to act out on it, and so were you, in a way.

You didn’t know how many hints you could dish out before it got borderline ridiculous. Max didn't need a push, he needed a shove.

The both of you took a walk around the small village before circling back home. A few had retired to bed already, and you found Daniel, Pierre and Lando lounging around by the outdoor fireplace. Lando clocked the both of you walking into the backyard, looking a little suspicious and you shot him a questioning glance.

“Welcome back, children.” The man himself greeted, earning a flick to the head by Max in passing. He yelped, making you laugh as you sat down by Pierre.

“We’re older than you, idiot.” You pointed out and Max made a hum in agreement, looking around with a small frown.

It was ridiculous how he all of a sudden felt a little lost when you didn’t immediately go for a seat that held two people. You always managed to find a seat right next to Max, even going as far as sitting in his lap when he was in a chair; neither of you pointing out the fact that there were other seats to choose from.

But now you’d sat next to Pierre, and he felt something ugly bloom in his chest when the man in question draped a friendly arm over the backrest. You were good friends with the Frenchman, and he had a girlfriend but it still made Max annoyed.

He reluctantly sat in a chair when he realised that he’d lingered for too long, trying to tune into the conversation that had gone on for the whole time he’d gotten lost in his head.

You’d noticed, of course you had, there was no one as in tune with Max Verstappen as you were. It made you feel a smidge of glee because it was just further confirmation that whatever was going on between the two of you wasn’t friends being friends.

And it only seemed to solidify when Max looked your way, a hundred emotions shining in his eyes as he glared daggers at Pierre and his harmless arm. You arched an eyebrow, silently and innocently asking him what was wrong.

You watched Max shift in his seat.

“So, where’s Kika, Pierre?” He asked, the question coming out of the blue and you almost rolled your eyes, trying not to react when Daniel and Lando’s conversation trailed off to look at the three of you.

Pierre touched your shoulder with a finger, a tap that conveyed so much and you hid a smile by biting your cheek. Leave it to Pierre to read a room and embody the innocent and clueless man perfectly in order to help you.

“She’s sleeping.” He replied easily, kindly. “Had a little too much to drink. Which reminds me…” He trailed off and turned his head to look at you. “She wanted me to remind you of your plans tomorrow.”

“What plans?” Max asked before you had a chance to reply.

“We’re just going to a boutique we came across. It looked cute,” you smiled. “It was closed when we walked by today. But they had these nice bikinis I wanted to get my hands on.”

Lando looked up at the mention of bikinis, a smarmy smile that told you exactly what he’d say before he even opened his mouth.

“Can I come?” He asked, making Daniel cackle.

You stretched your leg out to kick his shin, grinning at his cheekiness. Lando dodged your kick just barely, a smile of his own stretching his lips.

“You’re being weird.” Max said, giving the British boy a look that looked an awful lot like a warning. It didn’t deter Lando though, not like it’d make a grown man running if it were aimed at a stranger.

The curly haired boy only rolled his eyes, a playful air to him as he glanced between you and Max.

“I’m being weird, sure.” He said. “Not as weird as you two sharing a bed.”

A hot flush traveled up your spine and reached your cheeks when Pierre and Daniel laughed, like they were trying to hold it in but couldn’t. You had half a mind to reach over the table and strangle your friend who looked way too smug to have aired out the one thing everyone probably had thought at least once, but never said out loud.

You and Max shared a glance, expecting him to look embarrassed but he looked smug and you didn’t know why your stomach rolled at the sight. He looked… hot. Confidence had always looked good on Max.

“At least I have someone to share a bed with, dipshit.” He stretched out his hand to pinch Lando, making everyone laugh. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“Oh, ha!” Lando raised his voice in a fake laugh, face scrunched up adorably sarcastic. “Ha, ha, you’re so funny, Max. Maybe you should consider being a comedian instead of the insufferable driver that you are.”

“Maybe then you’d have a chance to get podium.” Max said around a laugh and it took exactly two seconds before everyone started hollering and cackling, Lando standing up to deliver half-assed punches and nips at the laughing Dutchman who tried to dodge the incoming attacks.

You watched with an amused smile as they scuffled, both red in the face from laughter and shouts. There was no way that they wouldn’t end up waking up everyone in the house, so you stood up and ushered Lando away from Max with a laugh.

“You’re both children.” You pointed your finger at Lando when he took a step back.

“Still more mature than you.” Lando said, not maturely at all and you smiled in amusement.

“That's a fucking lie, mate.” Daniel scoffed, laughter in his voice and Lando turned around to give him a piece of his mind.

You watched them dish out insults at each other that really sounded a lot like friendly love in disguise, startling a little when you suddenly felt arms circle your waist. A yelp left your lips when you were pulled into Max’s lap, twisting until you could look at him.

The closeness of his face caught you off guard, the blue in his eyes so striking with the fireplace reflecting in them. You draped both legs over his lap, making yourself comfortable with a shy smile.

“Hi.” He greeted you softly once you’d settled down.

“Hello.” Your breath stuttered a little when he brushed his fingers against your waist, skin against skin where your tank top had ridden up.

“I think that’s our cue to go to bed.” Daniel said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear and look at him.

Lando shot him a look, eyebrows raising when both Daniel and Pierre stood up.

“I’m not tired? You go —“ He halted his words when Daniel glared at him. “Right. Whatever.”

The boys stood up, bidding you goodnight and kisses to your head before disappearing inside. You watched them through the sliding doors as they shoved each other and laughed, vanishing around a corner. Max squeezed your side and you glanced at him.

“What?” You asked when you spotted the smile that so badly wanted to break out on his face, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“You were trying to make me jealous.” He said, not as a question but as a sure statement. You rolled your eyes and tried to steady your breathing when he leaned forward to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, his hot puffs of breath making goosebumps rise on your skin.

You squirmed when his beard tickled you, shoving halfheartedly on his shoulder but he didn’t budge. He pressed his lips against your pulse point and you knew that was it; he could definitely feel your racing pulse, there was no way he couldn’t.

“Well, it worked.” You replied belatedly, voice a lot weaker and shakier than you would’ve liked it to be.

Max didn’t say anything of it, though you could feel his lips move as he smiled into your throat.

“It did.” He confessed quietly, feeling your pulse jump beneath his lips. “I wanted to break Pierre’s fingers.”

He touched your shoulder where the Frenchman had previously touched you, like he was wiping off evidence of any man but himself. It made something coil tightly in your stomach, and you struggled to not squirm in your best friend’s lap.

“That would be unwise.” You whispered, glancing over at the house where there was no sign of life.

You didn’t know how you’d explain it away, if someone were to walk back out and find the two of you in this position. You, in his lap with your arm wound around his shoulder and Max under you, pressed so close in every way. It would certainly be hard to convince anyone you were just friends after this.

But you weren’t just friends. Friends didn’t touch you the way he did, with his hand stroking the skin over your collarbone, trailing a path down the cup of your tank top and feeling the swell of your breast. Your heart was thundering in your chest, eyes locked on his hand as it mapped out every inch of your skin; fingers stroking down between your tits before he opened the palm of his hand to slide it over your ribs, almost cupping your heaving chest. You almost wished that he did, every inch of your body aching to be defiled by the very same man you’d called your best friend for years.

“Breathe.” He murmured against your throat and you realised that you’d been holding your breath, a rush of air escaping your mouth as you willed yourself to relax.

“Max.” Your brows furrowed, arching your back a little and pushing your chest closer to him.

He said your name, the sound of it so beautifully intimate and hot on his tongue that it almost made you whine. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess in your head, making it hard for you to think of anything other than his hand. The very same hand that caressed your ribs, fingers spanning out until he brushed your nipple. You inhaled sharply at the twinge of pain when he went over it again, making out the shape of it through the thin material of your top and circling it teasingly just so he could hear your stuttered and laboured breaths.

“You sound so pretty for me.” He spoke against your skin, welcoming the twinge of pain when you pulled at his hair slightly.

The whispered compliment lit your body on fire, made your hand tighten in his hair so you could push his face against your neck. He seemed to get the memo, opening his mouth to latch onto the sensitive skin there and suck. The combination of suction and the sharp pain of his thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple made you moan, the loudness of the sound catching you off guard.

“Fuck!” You cursed when he rolled the bud between his fingers, enjoying the way you squirmed; like you weren’t sure whether to push into or away from him.

You glanced up at the sky, trying to focus on the light of the stars but there was no stopping the way your eyes rolled when he bit into your skin where he’d been sucking a nasty mark into it, flattening his tongue out to lave over it. Almost like he wanted to soothe the sting.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” You asked breathlessly, even though you both knew the answer to that.

“Does it feel weird?” He countered, pulling away and you blinked down at him; struck by the absolute need in his face.

It was the first time you’d seen his face since you sat down, taking in the saliva on his lip and the blown out pupils. He looked good enough to eat and you couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him, licking into his mouth the way you'd thought of doing for the last year.

He welcomed it with gusto, pulling away for a swift second to gauge your reaction. Max must’ve liked what he saw on your face because he dove right back, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss that had you moaning from your throat.

“Been thinking about this for a long time now.” Max confessed when you both let up for air, staring at each other through hooded lids and bruised lips.

“Me too.” You said, pushing his hair back softly. “So long.”

He kissed you again, like he couldn’t help it and you let him claim your lips however he pleased before he trailed down your jawline, sucking a few more hickeys down the side of your neck for good measure. You pushed your chest out when he neared the swell of them, watching how he pulled your top down just enough to get a better look at your tits.

Max stared at them, marvelling at the sight before the need to have his mouth on them became too great. A whimper tumbled from your lips when he sucked and licked until your skin turned raw, giving the other nipple the very same treatment.

“Oh, what the fuck?” A voice exclaimed and you jumped, turning to shield yourself from whoever had decided to turn up unannounced.

Max hurried to pull up your tank top, shooting you a glance before he leaned to the side and peered around you at the same time you looked over your shoulder. George had his back turned to you, one hand on his waist and face turned toward the sky. You couldn’t see his face, but the exasperation was clear as day in his body language.

“You guys are fucking gross.” He said and you bit your lips together to stop from laughing.

“What the fuck do you want, Russell?” Max asked, clearly annoyed that you’d been interrupted and you smoothed a thumb over the crease on his forehead.

“I forgot my phone, asshole.” He replied, agitated. “Are you guys decent?”

“Yes, you drama queen.” You rolled your eyes and watched him turn around.

There was a grimace etched on his face as he walked forward, sticking his hand down between the couch cushions until he fished out his phone. George stood upright, and there was a moment of awkwardness as you all looked at each other.

“Congratulations on finally coming to your senses.” He said finally, saluting you and walking backwards. “But please don’t shag on the patio furniture, we still have a week left and I don’t think Carlos would like an ass print on the cushions.”

“Why don’t you come over here and kiss my ass?” Max flipped him off with no real heat and you laughed.

“No thanks,” he grinned as he reached the sliding doors. “I’ll leave that to your girl.”

A silence filled the air after George made his exit and you slowly turned around, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of prodding questions that would surely come in the morning. George could never keep his mouth shut, enjoying chaos where it wasn’t necessary and you’d been friends with everyone long enough to know that it only took one person for word to spread like wildfire.

“It could’ve been worse.” Max said, who’d been sitting silently and regarding the faraway look in your eyes. It never ceased to amaze you how easily he could read you.

“Don’t remind me.” You widened your eyes at him, a smile overtaking your face when you saw the sparkle of humour in his eyes. “Maybe we should…”

You trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint because the sudden embarrassment kept you from finish the sentence. What would you even say? Maybe we should go to bed so we can finish what we started?

Max seemed to pick up what you were putting down, as he always did. He gave you a nod, face soft with reassurance as he cupped your face in his hand, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face.

“Are we good?” He asked, and you took a good look at him; noting the slight worry in his eyes and you realised that while he was reassuring you, he needed a little reassurance of his own.

You placed a hand over his, giving him a gentle nod with a smile. His eyes fluttered shut when you leaned over to peck his lips, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek for good measure.

“We’re more than good.” You gave another nod, climbing out of his lap and reaching both your hands out so he could grab them. “Take me to bed, Max.”

He made a show of groaning loudly until you laughed, hauling him up and dragging him across the lawn. You preened under his wandering hands as he crowded your space from behind, plastering his front to your back and winding his arms around you.

“Stop that.” You hissed when he buried his face in the crook of your neck, making loud and lewd noises until it tickled you.

“But you’re so soft.” He complained, sliding both hands up your sides and under your top, fingers grazing your under boob.

You squirmed but made no real effort to push him away, opening the sliding doors and walking inside with a little difficulty. The both of you got as far as the living area before Max turned you around and kissed you, rendering you useless to stop him or protest. You could feel his mouth stretch into a smirk, like he knew what he was doing and you didn’t have the heart to make any effort to scold him even as he backed you into the sofa. A loud yelp left your lips when the backs of your knees hit the sofa, accompanied by his startled shout when you both went tumbling down on the furniture with him over you.

“That wasn’t nearly as sexy as they make it out to be in the movies.” You complained, watching Max smile down at you. He adjusted the both of you until you had your legs around him, testing the waters by grinding down on you and your mouth dropped open when you felt the hardness of his cock against your crotch. “Oh, hello.”

Max exhaled, like he was relieved to finally take some pressure off by grinding against you and you angled your hips to meet his thrusts, keeping your eyes on his to watch as his face went through a hundred of different emotions. You were struggling though, the rough denim of his shorts against your cotton ones felt deliciously nice and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep quiet.

“I’d sometimes lie awake and imagine what you’d sound like.” Max murmured quietly, teeth bearing down on his lower lip when you gripped his shoulders a little harder. He ground down, listening to you whine high in your throat. “I’d fantasise what you looked like when you came.”

You dug your heels into his ass, silently telling him to keep going because a few minutes more of his incessant thrusting and he’d have you coming. Max kissed down your jawline, sucking tiny little marks into the skin that he knew you’d give him shit for when your mind had cleared, but it was the thought of your friends seeing your bruised skin that worked him up into a frenzy. He wanted, needed to show everyone that you were his. Fuck Pierre and his wandering hands, and Daniel who’d smugly smiled at him from across the paddock all those times.

He’d show them.

“You gonna make that reality, my love?” He was getting close, voice losing its edge as he spoke the words into your clavicle. He bit the thin skin there until you keened, digging your blunt nails into his shoulders. “Gonna show me what you look like when you come?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” your words were becoming jumbled, making these high noises from your chest that seized Max by the throat.

He didn’t think you were even aware of how loud you were becoming, but he’d be damned to stop you. It reminded him of the same noises you’d make when you’d take a quick dip into a cold ocean and he’d splash you just for the sake of it. You’d make this high pitched, whiny noise like the chill of the water took your breath away. It was mesmerising and so fucking hot that Max couldn’t help but grind down one last time and shoot off into his shorts, a throaty moan in your ear that sent you over the edge as well.

He forced himself to watch your face as it scrunched up, mouth hanging open as you gasped for breath, body seized up beneath him as you both ground against each other in an effort to bring you back down from your highs.

“Fuck, this is gross.” Max scrunched his nose up as he looked down between you. You peered down with a breathless giggle, noting the spot in his shorts that had seeped onto yours.

He looked up at you at the sound of your laughter, face relaxing when he saw your smiling eyes and hot cheeks. The sun had been good to you, kissing your skin so beautifully that he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you for a second since you got here.

“I can’t believe we just humped like a couple of teens.” You said it with laughter in your voice, but Max could spot the shy tilt of your brows and there was something oddly endearing about it. "In Carlos's family home." You said the last part in a mortified whisper, like the reality of it was dawning on you.

“Should’ve done that sooner.” He joked and you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

Max dropped his weight on you as sudden exhaustion seeped into his body, and you grunted. You wound your arms around him though, ignoring the messes you’d made between you for the sake of a cuddle. Your fingers drew little patterns on his back, like you knew Max loved, and he almost purred at the feeling.

“We should probably go to bed.” You said quietly.

“Yeah.” He said, but neither of you made any effort to move.

The grandfather clock was ticking away in the corner, almost like background music, and you were almost lulled to sleep by Max’s steady breathing. Your eyes opened when he suddenly moved above you, having sensed that you were two seconds from falling asleep when your hands stopped moving on his back.

“Okay,” he sighed heavily and stood up with a grimace, wobbling a little. You smiled slowly when he offered you his hands, pulling you up. “Time for bed.”

“I’m getting déjà vu.” You referred to an hour ago when you’d declared bedtime, only to end up a few meters away on the couch instead.

Max laughed, pulling you along toward the stairs and guiding you down a narrow hallway.

The morning after went as well as you’d imagine, waking up with Max snoozing quietly on his stomach with his hands shoved underneath the pillow. You’d ghosted a kiss on his cheek before getting up to get ready for the day. Sharing a room with Max during all the years had made you stealthy enough to perform your routines without him waking up, but it could also be because he slept like a rock and not even pans and pots in the hands of Lando and Daniel could bring him out of his dead sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Daniel greeted you when you stepped foot into the kitchen, pulling everyone’s eyes toward you and you smiled awkwardly.

“Hi? Hey.” You carefully avoided George’s eyes as you walked around the counter, patting Heidi on the back in a silent greeting.

The look she gave you had your hackles rising a bit, but you pushed the paranoia away because surely George hadn’t gone and blabbed already? It was only - you looked at the clock - nine in the morning. Christ.

Charlotte handed you a mug of steaming coffee and you wordlessly took it, taking a small sip. “Thank you.”

Conversation picked back up again as you went on the hunt for toast, popping them in the toaster and pouring another cup of coffee for Max who’d probably woken up by now. Francisca talked about the boutique you’d be going to, waving Pierre off with a playful hand when he tried to invite himself into your girls day.

There was a slight lull in the chaos of three conversations happening in the space of the kitchen, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Max had finally joined the party. You turned your head and almost smiled at his hair, wet from a shower and sticking up in all directions. He looked sleepy still, a little bleary eyed but he still managed to find you in the gaggle of people.

It warmed your heart a lot more than you’d like to admit when you watched his eyes light up as they settled on you, murmuring good morning’s and patting backs as he made a beeline for you.

You smiled at him. “Morning.”

Max accepted the mug of coffee you handed him, kissing your cheek in thanks and you leaned into it automatically. It was scary how fast you’d gotten used to his affection, but it felt so natural that you couldn’t bring yourself to question it.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, hand finding the hem of your dress to pluck at it with his fingers.

It was a plain old summer dress in white, one you’d worn a couple of times but it was Max’s favourite piece. It made your legs look amazing, and he was slightly mourning the thought of having to let you go out with the girls and not being able to ogle you openly.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him.

“Is anyone gonna address the elephant in the room?” Lando spoke out, bringing the both of you out of your bubble you’d managed to create.

You turned around to look at the nosy group, rolling your eyes at your friend.

“Isn’t it clear?” Pierre balled up leftover bread from a loaf and chucked it at the Brit from across the table.

Charles frowned, glancing at you before looking over at his girlfriend who was smiling a little too brightly for your liking.

“Am I missing something?” Charles narrowed his eyes and looked at you. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You’re not.” You said, playfully glaring at your friends. “They’re just being idiots.”

George coughed, dodging an incoming slap to the arm from Carmen. Just that one gesture let you know that Carmen was aware of what had happened last night.

“Tell that to Carlos’ furniture.” He muttered but it was enough for Carlos to look up, frown deep in his face as his round eyes looked between George, you and Max.

“What?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice. “What did you say?”

Max coughed, hiding a laugh as he turned around to pick up his mug of coffee. You shot Kika a look that screamed help me and she didn’t even hesitate to hop up from the barstool and nod at the girls.

“Everyone ready?” She asked, earning a few replies as they gathered up their things for a day in town. "Vamos."

You watched in amusement before turning to Max, not really in the mood to leave him and he seemed to share those feelings, judging by the look on his face. His eyes flickered across your face, like he was trying to memorise it and you leaned into him.

“I’ll see you later?” He asked, like it was ever a question, watching you nod. He handed you the toast you’d prepared, giving you a look. “Eat up before you go.”

You tried to act like that small gesture didn’t make your heart absolutely crumble into ashes, not having the strength to refrain yourself from standing on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth.

“What the fuck?” Came Charles’ voice from somewhere and you laughed into Max’s lips before pulling back.

Max gave your behind a small pat and you turned around to leave the kitchen, thinking that you couldn’t wait to be back home.

[retroaria]

₊˚⊹♡ …Love, Love, Love… ₊˚⊹♡

blue lock boys and how they’d describe their love for you!

cw: dramatic descriptions of affection, i think maybe there is a bit of implied personality for all of them, but honestly i’m sure you’re all lovely ppl and will still resonate with it!!

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🪽 -aria | isagi, bachira, kaiser

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚

𝜗𝜚 Isagi Yoichi

One day Isagi realized that if he could spend the rest of his life in the gentleness and warmth of your presence, he doesn’t think he could ever be truly unhappy. Then, as if his last thought had been the missing piece to why his heart burned so hard for you, he realized he was in love with you. Humans are human, he knows this. He knows that there’s no such thing as a perfect person, no one who could truly do no wrong, and he uses this to justify his boundless admiration of you.

He doesn’t care if it’s unfair to see you as the exception, the only person who genuinely is perfect. He knows he isn’t, but here you are, allowing him to bask in your grace. Every word you say and every action you take has a lighthearted nuance to it, an irrefutable sense of joy, it pulls him in until all he can see when he looks at you is a literal angel. When Isagi realized he was in love with you, he swore he would do everything in his power, for the rest of his life, to protect the ethereal light that showers over you, so long as he could bask in it alongside you. Your peace, your happiness, your sense of wonder, he wanted to watch it all flourish forever and ever. And so, he follows your lead, he listens when you speak, he validates your purpose, and he lets you be exactly who you are and who you want to be. Nothing has to change for him, he knows he can’t get any better than perfect.

𝜗𝜚 Bachira Meguru

When Bachira and you first started dating, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of acceptance that had once been so foreign to him. It felt as though you and all your love for him had encased his mind, body, and soul in a world he had never known before. After some time, Bachira realized that it was your world he had been consumed by. A world devoid of cruelty and all the things he had not yet forgiven, though now, maybe he could. If every moment of his life lead him on the path where one day he would stumble into your universe of love and light, he would endure it all again a million times over, knowing he’d come out the other end happier than ever.

He submits to you in a way that is wholly transparent. Bachira gives you all of him, never faltering in insecurity or shame like he may have before. He can’t help but flutter when you commend him for being so himself around you. How could you not see it? How could you hold the key to the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him and still be so blissfully unaware? It’s adorable, he decides. A testament of your undeniable benevolence and tenderness towards him. He’ll spend the rest of his life thanking you for letting him into your world, where he could unfold before you and be loved as he is.

𝜗𝜚 Michael Kaiser

Kaiser had taken you for naive when you first met, he thinks about it now and curses himself for his arrogance. What if he had let your love pass him by? If memory serves him right, he was a shell. A cold, shitty shell of a man guarding the heart of a boy that never was. It was pathetic, truly, but you never seemed to think so. There was who Kaiser saw himself as deep down, and who he knew others saw him as. The two may have been different in regard to their perspectives, but they both concluded the same thing; he was an asshole.

But you were a deviator. You took every word he said and every terrible thing he did as a reflection of all he’d ever known, you saw him in a completely different light. “Michael, why won’t you let me in?” those words still make him dizzy to this day. It was a loaded question, one that you weren’t afraid to ask. It provided him with a new piece, an unexplored path. And so, he let you in, giving you the chance to turn all he’d ever known on its head, and teach him something new. There was what Kaiser thought he knew about himself, and what others thought they knew about him, but then, there was what you fully understood about him. Which then turned into all the things you loved about him, things that he hadn’t ever seen in himself. You didn’t change him, you embraced him. Your embrace was so tight that it cracked the shell he hid within and let your love seep in. He realized he wanted to stay in that embrace forever, and it became clear that he loved you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚

i got a little lazy with kaisers at the end i’m sorry 😞 this would’ve been too much to do a lot of characters in one post so if you want to see this prompt with other characters please request and i will do them!!! MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN ❤️

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚

[monzamash]

pit in my stomach - lando norris

rating – mature (cheating, language, sexual references) requested by @landograndprix - hugging you tight, my friend!

it was hard to pin point the moment his love for you had been diminished by his crippling guilt or when you knew there was nothing he could say or do to piece you back together. maybe it was around the time you’d asked him point blank whether he saw you in his future and he stuttered over his truth with an unconvincing of course i do when the dagger had already been deployed into your unsuspecting back. naively blinded by love.

or maybe it was the night lando stumbled home from the local, half a pint of slushing lager still in his hand while the other held a small, black velvet box. he dropped down on one knee, eyes bloodshot with tears and a trembling bottom lip – a stark contrast to your hardened stare and crossed arms shielding you from the blow, physically and emotionally spent.

“i fucked up… i-god i hate that i've hurt you, baby and i wish i could take it all back – i fucked up so bad and i’m so sorry.”

“you didn’t fuck up, lando – you fucked someone else for six months and lied to my face and made me feel like i was losing my mind! do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused?”

the room fell silent, boiling blood pumping in your ears.

“huh?! do you?”

“no–”

“no you don’t! i've been stupid enough to keep chasing after you and all you’ve done is let me down and made me look like a fucking idiot! everyone knew about her, about what you were doing behind my back and you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t stop! you’re a monster and i’m not going to cry over a mistake you made…"

sadness welled as you stared down at the man kneeling at your feet. he was a stranger who only resembled the man you loved in appearance, not in honour or integrity or character – you were grieving the lando who had showed you the world with so much love and adoration and hope.

"you will have to live with this mistake for the rest of your life.”

“you’re right. i will never forgive myself 'cause she meant nothing and i have to fix this – i need to fix this because i love you.. so much. i’ll get help, i’ll see someone just give me a chance to fix it…”

“do you really think that is going to fix it?”

you pointed to the dainty box that held so much weight. in a way it represented a future founded on four years of memories, of something resembling happiness. sure, there had been disappointments, hundreds of missed calls, a few missed anniversaries and your gnawing intuition saying that maybe the paranoia wasn’t just inside your head. but ending like this, in betrayal and heartache – you hadn’t seen that one coming.

lando swallowed the lump forming in his throat, queasy from the drunken stupor he’d drank himself into and the dread settling in the pit of his empty stomach, “thought it might be start…”

a strained laugh slipped from pursed lips as venom coated your sharpened tongue, “and that is how i know you will never change.”

“please,” lando scrambled to his feet and reached out for your hand in an attempt to stop you from walking away, “please don’t leave me…” he begged, voice barely above a whisper.

lando knew he would never forget the look in your eyes when you slowly turned back to him – they were cold and punishing, bone-chilling. they swirled with the web of lies and sorrow that he had inflicted upon the person he loved the most in the world, who had given him everything she had, who loved him unconditionally, which made it nearly impossible to accept that he had lost you.

“you left me six months ago when you slept with her, lando.”

more writing...

[interloved]

can u write a smut where rick dies in his world and then ends up in ours? reader is a singer and dancer, and to help him readjust she hires him as her bodyguard and as the time passes things finally get smutty and tall that shit 😓😓😓 and can you do reader timid, quiet and really girlie pretty pleaseee 💓

oh my god i love this ahh (i live for twd modern!au’s)!! took the freedom to change up some parts, so it’s a bit different than what you asked for but i hope you like this :)

also i’m kinda planning on making this a multi-series. this idea is too good to make it a one-shot<333

innocent actress!reader X possesive bodyguard!rick grimes (modern!au)

part 01

description box: rick grimes is a man who knows what he wants, and he wants you. and he may not be able to tell the world, but he damn sure can show them.

warnings: nsfw warning, porn with plot, minors dni!!, mostly smut, use of nicknames like ‘doll’ and ‘pretty girl’, rick is a little bit insane hahah (but when was he ever not), sub & dom dynamic

innocent actress!reader X possessive bodyguard!rick grimes

(modern!au)

RICK GRIMES DOESN’T REALLY LIKE the way that interviewer is looking at you. his eyes are trailing up and down your small frame too frequently for his liking and he doesn’t like his eyes dipping down to your lips every two seconds or so.

what’s bothering him even more is how you won’t notice—won’t notice the way this interviewer licks his lips, won’t notice his eyes dropping to your chest, won’t notice his flirty little remarks.

“cut the cameras,” he orders frostily, and one of the camera men straightens himself, ready to protest, but rick grimes is an intimidating man. one chilly glance is enough to shut the camera man up and he grumbles something unfriendly under his breath as he tells his team to shut down the cameras.

you flash him a questioning look. god, look at you. so naive, rick thinks, so fucking naive.

this is one of the reasons you hired rick—he was tall, intimidating and strong. another reason was his handsomeness. you never really liked the suffocating fame that came with it nor the cameras that were glued to your back every second, but don’t get it wrong !! you love acting, but your famousness tends to overwhelm you sometimes, so you thought hiring a handsome bodyguard might off take a little bit of the constant attention and pressure you were getting.

rick had to admit that when he was hired, he first thought it was a joke. it seemed that all you needed him for was opening water bottles and cans, carrying your bags while going on shopping sprees with you—which necklace suited you better, the silver one or the golden one?

you were so sweet. so polite and sensitive. oddly naive. rick reckoned this was all an act for publicity, maybe the reputation and image of yourself you were trying to create, but after being your bodyguard for about two years, he knew this wasn’t the case. the sheltered upbringing you received thanks to your protective parents was partly the reason for your sheer innocence, but he’d noticed that people tended to become soft around you.

he didn’t like to admit it, but he too had become soft around you. grown fond of you. some might say affectionate, even. who else would tolerate the silly tantrums you threw; who else would go on (forced) ice cream dates with you; who else would roll their eyes but still entertain you like this?

but he knows you’ve grown fond of him, too. you depended on him so much, looked to him first for every little problem you encountered, valued his opinion the most. he was the first person you thought of calling when someone on a show announced you the greatest actress of the century.

“what’s going on, mr grimes?” you blink at him, as clueless and oblivious as ever. it’s a little adorable, rick guesses.

even though rick’s told you not to call him mr grimes multiple times, you never seem to remember. you’re shy, you wouldn’t dare calling him by his first name. rick knows that, but he can’t help but sigh inwardly every time he hears you call out for him as ‘mr grimes!’.

“what’s your name?” he asks the interviewer, southern drawl all too present and piercing, icy eyes staring him down as he chose to ignore your question for the time being.

the interviewer lifts an eyebrow. “me? i’m mark. mark millers.”

“huh,” rick nods, clicking his tongue, “mark.”

his voice is cold, but again, he is always; distant, taciturn. celebrity newspapers called you and him “the sweet angel and her brooding shadow” once. rick thinks it’s stupid but you thought it was so cool you once made him wear a couple’s costume, with you dressing up as an angel and him as.. he supposes he was supposed to be a shadow, but it turned into some kind of devil instead.

“well, that was all i wanted to know.” rick waves his hand, signalling the camera team to continue, “was just curious.”

he was, in fact, not just curious. after the interview, he would ask around, about this.. mark. mark would find himself in court, weeks later, on a sexual assault charge.

rick may be bad at emotions, but he knows he doesn’t like it when someone touches what is his.

and unfortunately for mark, he also has enough power to destroy his life.

YOU WEREN’T SURE HOW YOU managed to get yourself into this position.

“are you mad at me?” you ask quietly. rick and you were sitting in the limousine that was supposed to take you home.

ever since that interview, rick’s been oddly quiety. well, he always has been taciturn but never this.. silent.

rick sighs, “no, ‘m not mad at you, doll.”

you stare at him. “then why’re you frowning?”

“‘m not frowning.”

“oh but yes, you are!” you protest with crossed arms; “if it’s not me who you’re mad at, then who..?”

your eyes widen, “you’re not angry because of mark, are you?”

rick tenses up, and gives you a look you can’t really place. you couldn’t help but laugh, rick angry at an interviewer was a scenario that was so strange and unfamiliar to you that you just couldn’t stop laughing. it was hilarious, really.

“quit laughin’, i’m serious. he rubs me the wrong way.” rick adds grumpily.

you chuckle, patting his thigh, “everyone rubs you the wrong way, rick—”

you cut yourself off when you notice his eyes staring at your hand. on his thigh. you quickly withdraw your hand, you know rick doesn’t like being touched. the only kind of physical contact (that also you initiated) was a hug from him that you’d only gotten because you had received your first award.

“oh, ‘m sorry, i know that lori—”

“it’s fine,” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence and looks out of the window, “lori and i… are havin’ some problems.”

“what? why? are you OK? what’s going on?”

rick almost smiles at the obvious worry in your voice, he thinks it’s adorable how much you care. even though he’s just your employee.

“don’t worry bout it,” he drawls and leans back, lips pulled up in a lazy smile.

part two coming soon!!

[cheriladycl01]

In your Dreams - Lewis Hamilton x FrenchOlympicBadminton! Reader

Plot: Lewis loves Golfing, Surfing and Skiing, so you’d think if he’d end up with an athlete he’d end up with one in one of his secondary sports. But no, hes with you on the red carpet of the debut of a movie airing about your life and your struggles before becoming the youngest Olympic Gold Medalist in Badminton, and having the most consecutive medals too.

Warning: lots of dark themes and undertones about your backstory in this one’s, specifically abuse in the system, parental pressures, grooming and SA (by an ex partner) etc

You walked along the red carpet outside the Leicester Square cinema where the exclusive showing of your new movie was occurring.

Lewis couldn’t keep his eyes off of you in that pretty red dress he loved. The moment he saw you in it, his brain had pretty much short-circuited and his only thoughts were off you.

He knew in the red carpet photos you’d be there radiant as ever and he’d be looking at you like some love sick puppy. But he really didn’t care, this was your night and he was here to support you … his fiancé.

“Thank you for being here tonight. I know it wasn’t easy to get time away” you smile up at him, holding him close to you and looking at him with an adoration he saw often. You knew he was busy with the season as it hadn’t started off as Mercedes Gad expected and he was under a lot of pressure from Toto that he’d been feeling overwhelmed most days.

“You know I’d do just about anything for you my Cherie” he said using the nickname you loved.

“I needed you here tonight” you smile pulling him into a kiss, the camera flashes instantly picking up speed and consistency making you giggle into the kiss.

“I know darling” he says keeping his hold on your waist tight as you walk past the photographers and paparazzi posing every now and then when they ask you to stop.

You eventually get to the people interviewing you, happier to be in a calmer than the one at the start of the carpet.

“Y/N it’s amazing to have you here tonight on the premier. Feeling right now?” She asks and a grin comes into your face.

“Amazing, honestly to have my personal story but out in such a raw and public way is such a helpful step for people who maybe or may have suffered the way I have an gives a message of hope to anyone who has ever felt the way I did that the road doesn’t end there!” You nod loving that you will be helping millions of people who have shared the same experience as you.

“So before we go in, tell us a little about the film!” She probes.

“Well, it’s starts on the note of me growing up pretty tough and with no outlook for my future, being tossed from foster to foster home, the hard times and abuse I went through there before I come across Patrick DuPont, who we know very well as my trainer and the main reason I ended up where I am today. It moves through my teens and realising I’m talented and some things and how I was naive enough to not see the manipulation and abuse I was put through as a result of that and how I was used by many. It guides you through my most important relationships with people both the most gnarly and the most pure. It’s a really moving and emotional movie that I know will being lots of people including myself to tears” you explain the rough synopsis to her, making her nod and check her pad in-front of her that an assistant was holding out for her.

“And obviously adding onto those relationships, who will we be seeing a lot of?” She asks and you nod.

“Obviously towards the start in my early childhood, you’ll see a lot of my foster parents and my childhood best friend Emilie Bustlen, as I grow up you meet Patrick and my main foster family. For legal reasons we had to change names around because of this so they are know as the Laurent’s before we meet Hunter Goshill, my ex partner and some of my competitors. Before we finally find a safe haven, in this man right here beside me” you smile pulling Lewis forward and closer to you, he looks a little shocked that he’s now in the full shot of the camera rather than off the the side and has a mic code to him.

“You guys met when Y/N was 19 and you must have been what 25, 26? How did that work in 2011?” She asks knowing that’s when you met.

“Obviously I met Y/N at a race, she was there alone walking through the paddock and I just fell in love with her. Once I worked out who she was having an Olympic gold medal I was introduced to her by my then team principle Martin Whitmarsh and I proceeded to win that race. Was Germany! Obviously the year after she was travelling to London for the Olympics and as my home country of course I came with her as it tied in nicely to my summer break. After that she was the one that convinced me to make the move to Mercedes and apart from proposing to Y/N that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever done” he admits.

“Woah, what a lovers story obviously prior to that, Y/N you were in a if you don’t mind me saying quite a pressured and dare I say toxic relationship with ex partner Hunter?” She asks and you nod looking down for a second before feeling a squeeze on your hand in reassurance.

“I mean it shows it better in the film that I can get into words, but I was very young and naive. I looked for anything that would give me the slightest bit of affection which I would often just confuse with attention. And of course that came from someone who was older than me, and knew how to take advantage of me, without it ever feeling like he had I’ll intentions because I was so desperate to feel. Lewis has thought me many things but being loved the right way is the best thing” you smile looking to your soon to be husband with pure love, no other intentions just two souls mingled together as they should be.

“Really a beautiful couple and a beautiful story, just is heartwarming finding out what you’ve been through and how Lewis has helped break those walls you spent years building. I’m so excited to see this movie, and everyone at home watching this is your sign to get to your local cinema and buy a ticket for In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N ” she smiles.

You nod beofre saying a polite goodbye and heading off.

You answer some more questions, some about the movie some about your goals for 2024 in Paris if you’ll get your 5th gold medal for Team France, some were as trivial as what and who you were wearing.

“God, I just want to go home to Roscoe now” you sigh as you enter the theatre, going to get some treats for you and Lewis while the movie is on.

“I know baby, just a little longer. Then we can get started on our wedding planning hmmm?” He asks looking over you and making you smile and pull him into a passionate kiss, teeth clashing and you pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

You walk past some critics giving them smiles and some small talk before they let you on your way.

You eventually sat with Lewis at the front row will all the cast and directors next to your guys as the film came up on the screen.

It was everything you’d envisioned. Tear jerking, heartwarming and moving. Lewis was brought to tears and many others in the theatre who didn’t know the full extent of your story were coming up to you after the film talking to you about your life and how your success had a whole new meaning to them now.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and antonia.desplat

y/user: I’ve loved you since I was 19, now that I’m 32 and engaged to you, I wouldn’t want my life any other way. I love you Lew ♥️.

Thank you so much for paramountpictures making my story come to life in the new movie In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N

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paramountpictures: truly amazing to bring your story of strength, resilience and success to life.

-> y/user: thank you for putting your heart and souls into this project it really is magical 💥 Also thank you too, all of the actors and actresses in the movie antonia.desplat who did a fantastic job!

-> antonia.desplat: thank you for giving me this opportunity. This movie has been my big break as a struggling French actress! Merci Du Fond Du Coeur 🇫🇷♥️🥐

lewishamilton: I love you with all of my heart. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved this far and am proud to say I’ll be in your life for the remainder of your future successes and achievements. Je vous aime! 🐻❤️

-> y/user: Sir Lewis Hamilton - the man you are 🫶🏼

nicorosberg: that picture is so old, I took this years and years ago!

-> y/user: Nico Rosberg the OG Y/N-Hamilton shipper 🫶🏼

Instagram Story Caption:

Back on the grind 😮‍💨

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[corynation]

OMG NO 😂😂

From what i saw from greys he isnt dereks brother i think ??

Also... Mark slept with dereks sister in the show so i thought it was ok to ask?

Sorry if i didnt make myself clear tho 😂

But she can totally not be dereks sister

Anyway sorry for the confusion

New Beginnings

alex karev x reader

tags : angst, some fluff, uhhh more tags, this is a little everywhere but i hope its okay, not that sad but enough to need a part 2

“Derek? Wha-“

“I need to stay here tonight.” He kept his head down as he shuffled his way through the door, water drops flowing off his hair.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Addison?” The look Derek gave you was almost enough to answer every question that was running through your head. You stood silently as he threw his duffel bag on the couch, his soaked jacket following. He plopped down in the arm chair, palms rubbing his face.

“I’ll get you some hot cocoa to warm up.”

“No don’t I’m fine.”

Your eyebrow raised at his poor attempt in deterring your concern.

“Oh god you look like mom.” Derek chuckled, lighting the heaviness in the room.

“What happened with Addison Derek? Why are you here?”

His face dropped once more almost immediately. The change drawing regret straight out of your core. “I found her sleeping with Sloan.”

“Mark!?” Hearing the most unexpected name come out your stomach churned in a way that made you swear you were about to hurl. The barriers around your emotions all crumbling at once.

“Are we really surprised.” Derek sighed, flattening himself out onto the couch.

“I mean? Yes? No? I don’t.. I mean he’s your best friend?” Surely it wasn’t out of character for Marks sexual.. tendencies to say the least. But still there was a part of you that couldn’t believe he’d sleep with the wife of the man he practically called a brother. Especially after growing so close to him in the past months. You shared everything together and nothing that was said or done could’ve prepared you for this. Your heart ached more then it ever did before, both for Derek but also yourself. Mark was your first, and you had naively convinced yourself he’d be the last. And though you wanted more than anything to curl up in a ball on the floor with Derek and sob your eyes out until the numb feeling that soared through your nerve endings disappeared, Derek didn’t know anything about you and Mark, and you sure as hell weren’t about to have this be the time he finds out. It took more then you thought you had in you to conceal your emotions. Fighting back the familiar sting of tears became a war for the first time, but you stood your ground against it. Sure you and Mark hadn’t taken the time to talk about making things exclusive, but really you didn’t think you needed to. What you felt with Mark was enough to flood your senses full, not able to even consider someone else entering the picture.

And maybe you were stupid to think he felt the same.

It felt futile to hide the burn in your chest, knowing it was evident in your face. But still you tried to mask your feelings, hoping it would be seen as nothing but compassion towards your brother. You’d drag the sun out by your bare hands to bring sunshine after a life of darkness if it meant the best for Derek.

“Yeah well obviously that doesn’t mean much.” The scene of Derek face down on the couch with his arms dangling at weird angles was almost comical enough to bring you out of your anger. In a sad attempt to stifle your laugh, a small giggle escaped your lips. Derek just looked up from his resting spot and gave you the warmest smile you’ve seen from him all night, the picture perfect resemblance of a child.

“Derek I don’t-“ You were cut off mid sentence by the ringing of Dereks phone. He was hesitant to pick it up, most likely praying to himself it wasn’t the two talks of the night.

“Hold that thought I have to take this.” He cleared his throat before answering the phone, his eyebrows stiffening. “Hi Richard, sorry for emailing so late..” Was all you caught as he stepped out of the room.

The anticipation building in you was almost enough to drive you mad. Derek had been on the phone for ten minutes now and you weren’t able to hear any of it. You had began your (what felt like at least) 100th lap around the room, as Derek finally stepped back in. The suspense in the room falling instantly as his demeanor brought nothing but a strange joy.

“Richard Webber from Seattle Grace just called.”

“Okay..?” You sat down on the couch, Derek following.

“He found us both a job, very well pay, I’d be head of neuro, and you’ll be a trauma attending ! It’s perfect! He said he could even throw in a sign on bonus for you for the sudden notice! We start Monday.”

“At Seattle Grace?”

“Well obviously.”

“Derek? Are you insane? Like are you actually going insane because if you are I can understand why.”

“Am I.. Are you going insane? Y/n this is the perfect job opportunity! It’s everything you’ve worked for come on!”

There was a shared silence between the two of you, you each studying the other trying to feel out the mix of emotions you both had been throwing out into the room. Derek looked at you with eyes of an insane man, his lips a curl of typical mischief.

“Derek. This job is in Seattle. Seattle Washington! We live in New York! You can not bring in a life changing job, and move, that I have to do in two days and expect me to jump at it! I know you want to get away from Addison right now but Seattle seriously? Don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?”

“Yes! That’s the point. Come with me or don’t but you’ll sure as hell look idiotic for not.” You let out a sigh at his words, your jaw tensing.

“Derek we’re talking about both of our whole lives right now. Our family is here, our homes, hell our jobs!”

~

“Y/n! welcome to Seattle Grace. I know the offer was a short notice but I appreciate you coming.” Richard Webber, the chief of Seattle Grace, greeted you at the entrance. A great smile plastered across his face as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Of course Richard. Thank you for the offer. I know you wanted me out sooner but like I told Derek, it was insane for me to do the move in two days. So I really do appreciate the exception, it was more than generous of you.” You smiled, accepting the greeting.

“Oh i know it was. But anything for an old friend’s family. And it would be great to have another genius on hand.”

“Old friend?”

“Oh yes, Dr. Shepherd and I have worked on a few cases together in the past. I’ve spent my fair share of time in New York.” Richard spoke as he began to walk through the hospital, his hand reaching behind him to motion for you to follow. “Now I know Derek has been working here for a week now, and could show you around, but I’m going to go ahead and assign you an intern for the day. Someone to show you around and have do all the unnecessary paperwork for you.”

“Oh no Dr. Webber, no need to do that. You’ve already accommodated so much around me. Surely I can find my way around today.”

“Absolutely no need for that Dr. Shepherd. Let me make the day easier for you please.” You smiled at Richard and nodded, fully appreciating the gesture. He nodded and turned around, his finger pointing to a shorter woman across the room at the nurses station.

“Bailey!” The woman whipped her head around, eyebrows raised and an unfazed expression spread on her face. She began walking towards you and Richard, five other doctors following her lead almost immediately. You giggled to yourself as they all looked like a scene of baby ducks following their mom; though these baby ducks did look particularly tired and worn.

“Can you give me one of your children please. I need someone to be with Dr. Shepherd for the day while she settles in. You know like show her around yada yada.”

“Karev go.” Dr. Bailey ordered turning around and beginning to walk back to what she was doing.

“Me? But I’ve got-“ One of the doctors that had been following Bailey began saying, walking backwards to keep up with her in order to plea.

“Karev. GO.”

He stood in the middle of the room, arms up in defeat. You almost felt bad for him until he turned to face you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as if this was somehow your fault.

“Come on lets get this over with.” He snarled while walking back towards you.

“Hey don’t be pissed at me, I sure as hell didn’t want you to be the one showing me around.” Karev stopped to take a good look at you, almost completely dumbfounded after your response. He scanned your face, either trying to decide who you were to talk to him like that, or the opposite of the spectrum and he was just trying to hide his admiration.

Your grand hospital tour was finally coming to an end after almost two hours. Alex had taken the time to show you each wing, introduce you to each head of department, and even showed you the vending machines that are least likely to scam you. At first he had seemed like a nightmare to be around, almost like a brooding angsty teenager who didn’t like anyone, but after warming up to him (or maybe him warming up to you?) Alex actually seemed more then tolerable. He made you laugh more then you have in awhile. His presence lighting you more than you’ve felt since your first night with Mark, which in all honesty bewildered you more then you imagined. Questioning yourself on how, or why you had become so comfortable around Alex in such little of time.

Honestly he felt like Mark felt. But for some sick reason, that maybe was just a play on your emotions, the man you had just met three hours ago made you feel lighter then Mark had in 20 years. He felt like a flow of fresh rain water after a drought, cleansing you of all toxins and slowly making you new. He was rain and you were the starved flower.

Yet Mark felt like the water saved from the last rain. Still coursing through your veins and settling into your heart and soul. Something that once kept you alive, was once your everything, now something you couldn’t get out of your system without feeling like you were sucked dry, moments away from an inevitable end.

It hadn’t quite struck you how much the Mark situation had hit you before now. Really you hadn’t had time to feel how the situation made you feel. The thought of butterflies returning to you uncovered a deep empty void that was quick to cover your senses.

The sudden wave of emotions hit you hard, but still you tried to remain as unaffected by it as possible. Though you knew you had done quite the shitty job of that after you caught Alex glancing at you with concern from the corner of your eye.

“So,” he coughed, obviously trying to diffuse the odd tension that had began. “What department do you plan to work in after residency?”

“Well actually I’m a trauma attending.”

“Attending? You look younger than me!”

“Well I am 24.” You giggled at the widened eyes of Alex, his jaw practically on the floor.

“24!?”

“Yep! Baby of the family.”

“Baby of the entire hospital! I mean how’d you even get here?”

“Well Dr. Karev that is a long story we could discuss over coffee tomorrow morning.” It was out your mouth before you could even sit to consider it. Alex looked taken aback for a moment, obviously not expecting that just as much as you were.

“Deal.” Alex warmly smiled, his eyes gleaming with something more than before.

okay hii!!! this req is so late im so sorry😭 also this isnt the og post but i cant find that one so I am using this!!! im gonna be honest ive wrote this little by little over the past few months so i really hope its all somewhat cohesive ????? idk atleast readable but im also crossing my fingers that this is okay cause its my first req :)

so without being said i hope you guys enjoyed and i will be making a part two trust 🙏🏻

and listen i know being 24 and being an attending is like damn near impossible but its greys. there was literally a unfazed bazooka in a guys chest.

[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts V

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities

Edit: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, feel free to message me or send it to my inbox :)

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV *** Why did you think he’d change? Just because he was nice to you in the flower shop? How naive could you be? You’d walked into the tattoo parlour, it being unusually empty. Walking around a little, you tried to find someone, a customer, RM, V, anyone. But all you were met with, was Jungkook fucking some woman in the break room. You froze, staring at the girl being pounded into. She looked at you, exaggerating her moans even more when she saw you. You clenched your jaw and walked out, not wanting to deal with this today. Not knowing where to go, you wandered around Main Street, trying to get the image of him and the woman out of your head. Your face was wet…why was it wet? Oh god, you were crying over him again. Lock him out, keep him locked out, never let him in again. *** Laying on the couch in your apartment, you stared at the ceiling. You felt numb, curious on why he had such an effect on you. The voice in your head was calling you an idiot for letting him in again. Who did she think she was? Jesus Howard Christ, you were a stupid little girl that got jealous over a player! Why were you so rung up about some stupid guy that can’t keep it in his pants-! Your doorbell…who the hell was ringing your doorbell at 9:30 at night? You stood up, pulling your pj shirt down, looking through the peephole on your door. Oddly, no one was there…you opened your door, feeling and hearing a loud thud onto your floor. “Jungkook?!” You yelled, seeing the man lying on your floor, eyes half-opened. “Hey, pretty girl…” He mumbled out, running a hand through his hair. He sat up, leaning on your doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, confused, angry and possibly even a little happy. Jungkook tilted his head up to look at you, giving you a hazy and drink smile. “M’missed you…you looked s-so good in that long thing you were wearing in the flower home…” He missed you…? No, stop it, he’s just drunk. “My long thing…? My dress? What…? Jungkook, why are you here?” You used your foot to move his legs so you could close your apartment door. He laughed, gently grabbing your leg, resting his head on it, “Missed you…needed…needed to see you…” Jungkook nuzzled your leg with his head, pressing his lips to it. “Jungkook, you’re drunk…possibly high. You don’t know what you’re saying. How’d you even get here? It’s too long of a walk from here to your place.” Okay, maybe you remembered how to get to his place from that one time he called you in the middle of the night, looking for a quick fuck. “Baby, I know what I’m saying…miss you…miss your pussy…miss your love…” He mumbled against your leg. Why hadn’t you pulled him off yet? Why hadn’t you kicked him out? Was it because you get bad? God, he looked adorable right now…but what were you gonna do with him? He can’t stay the night! But you have no way of getting him home. Fuck, why was your life so hard all of a second? “Okay, get up. Let-…no, let go of my leg!” You tried to pry him off of your leg, causing you to almost fall. Use your legs, that was the one thing you learned from the gym when lifting things. Struggling, you looped your arms around his waist, trying to pull him up to stand, but he was stronger and he pulled you down. He pulled you down into his lap. “You smell so good, baby…always so sweet…” Placing his head on your shoulder, he closed his eyes. “No! No! Open your eyes! You are not sleeping on my floor!” You wiggled yourself out of his lap, grabbing his arm, dragging him across the floor. At first glance, he didn’t look heavy, but I guess having all those muscles adds to it. Groaning, Jungkook tried to move your hands away, not liking the feeling of being dragged across the floor. “Ow, hurts….m’into that.” He smirks up at you. You drop his arms instantly, “ Stand up, Jungkook. I can’t drag you to my room.” Holding your hands out for him to grab. “Ooo, taking me to your room already?” He smiled drunkly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. He grabbed your hands, pulling himself

to stand up, stumbling into you. “You could at least wine and dine me first.” You’ve already done that to me. You sighed, taking his hand and leading him to your room. He threw himself onto your bed, cuddling up with your pillows. He fell asleep pretty quickly, most likely unaware of his surroundings. You sat down on the floor, looking up at his sleeping form on your bed. Why’d you come? Why didn’t you go to the other girl? Staring at him made tears well up into your eyes, you never should’ve looked at him. He was bad for you, like a parasite you couldn’t get rid of. Something that kept infecting you and burning you to the floor. You shouldn’t have even let him in tonight. “So pretty…su..such a good girl…my baby…” He mumbled in his sleep, you stood up, walking out of your room. Even in his sleep he talks about the other woman. Why try to be friendly when all he does is play you? Just shut up, keep your pretty poison lips shut. You’ve poisoned me enough. *** Rubbing your temples, you stared at the TV in front of you, listening to Lindsay ramble on and on. “He’s in your bed?! Like, right now he’s laying, in YOUR bed?? Oh my god, Y/N, did you sleep with him? Girl, I told you to find other dick! You can do so much better!” You shushed her, “Keep your voice down. I didn’t sleep with him, he showed up drunk last night at my door. He wouldn’t leave. So I let him in and put him in my bed.” You were running off of caffeine, two hours of sleep and a full season of Gilmore Girls. “How does he even know where you live?” She asked sceptically, placing her hands on her hips and looking you up and down. “One of the nights we were drunk and horny, my place was the closest. We came here.” Looking up at her, it posed a question, why did he still remember where you lived? “And he still remembers? Girl, I don’t know if that’s cute or stalker-ish.” “I don’t even want to think about it.” You rubbed at your eyes, the lack of sleep was making it hard to think about the fact you had Jungkook in your bed. The door creaked open, revealing a sleepy looking Jungkook. He walked out and paused, looking between you and Lindsay, then at his surroundings. Lindsay cleared her throat, pointing towards the door, “I’m gonna head out…I’ll see you later, Y/N.” With that, she escaped the situation. Why was god always on her side? Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking towards you. He cleared his throat, “Morning…” holy fuck, his voice was deep and sultry. That alone was enough to make your panties damp. “Can you get out of my house now?” You more so told him than asked, standing to motion towards the front door. “Sure, but don’t you want me to stay a little longer? Maybe some head would get you out of this sour mood.” He quipped, smirking slightly. “Sour mood? Sour mood?! You came to my house at 10 last night, drunk as a pig! Pushing yourself into my house, pleading you missed me and needed me! I dragged your sorry ass from the front to my bedroom, allowing you to sleep in my bed and stay the night, and you’re telling me I’m being sour? You’re lucky I let you in! I could’ve shut you out and called the police, telling them some drunk showed up at my apartment! It’s weird enough you remember where I live, I don’t need you coming into my home! You could’ve gone to that other woman’s house, but nooo, you came here! So quit telling me I’m sour, when I’m the one that let you in even after all the shit you’ve done to me!” Your ramble left him stunned, staring at you with utter shock. He wanted to say things, apologize, talk it out, but no words came out. You scoffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door, opening it and pushing him out. “Stop coming to me when you’re high.”

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies

@junecat18

[entomolog-t]

Bitten- Part II

Back to back posting ? Its more likely than you think! Can't keep you guys waiting too long 💕 I've been having so much fun with this AU while trying to actually get ahead with Bite Me

In this part we see that though the dynamic might have changed, these two most certainly have not.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

- - - -

First Part

Next Part: Tuesday!

Word count: 2030

CW: Nudity (non-explicit), Adult language

Aedes, thought June, was indescribably fucking hot. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were dying to throw itself at him. A wash of emotions swirling in her chest as she stares up at the man in front of her. 

What the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream, right? A wildly vivid dream brought on by a guilty conscience? Her eyes wander, catching sight of his … lack of clothing. 

Perhaps this was a different kind of dream.

“June…” his whisper came as a low rumble. June’s breath caught in her throat, heat rising to her face as if she were a kettle reaching its boiling point- though, thankfully, she refrained from screaming. Since when did he know her name? 

At her non response, his brows knit together, the massive landscape of his face shifting to that of concern. A shiver ran down her spine at his gaze, so overwhelmingly locked on her. It was… stripping in a way, seeming to take so much of her in that it left her feeling bare.

It took her brain an awkward second to realize that the feeling was not exclusive to her mind. June Murphy sat there, in a bed that seemed like it could have hosted a football game, let alone her, completely and utterly bare naked. 

Aedes watches June as her hands, so unfathomably small, grip her blanket and slowly pull it to her chest.

His brain freezes at that last word.

Her… naked chest. 

Heat rising to scorch his cheeks, Aedes turns his head, a muffled noise escaping him as all at once the awe and strangeness of the situation evaporates- like a fog being lifted by the heat of the rising sun, or in his case, the heat of his rising embarrassment. Gaze averted, his mind races. 

Just what exactly was going on? He’d avoided seeing her, let alone speaking to her since… they met… a meeting he certainly wasn’t keen on revisiting… Yet now, in the unprecedented strangeness of whatever the fuck was going on, it was clear he couldn’t just go back to avoiding her.

Aedes swallows, a nervous lump forming in his throat at the thought of just how he was supposed to navigate something like this. 

Should he apologize? 

Did he even have something to apologize for? 

She was the one who defiled his pride. 

She was the one who poisoned his mind with whatever sickness she’d put him through. 

Sure he’d yelled at her, insulted her, but -  His ears perk up at the sound of her voice, far softer than he could have anticipated.

Far softer than he liked.

“Did… did you do this to me?” 

Aedes’ eyes widen, his rising frustrations deflating in an instant. She thinks I've done this? 

Stunned, Aedes slowly shakes his head. 

“No. I…” His voice trails off. Even with her mostly covered by the blanket, Aedes can barely look at her. The sight of her shaking filled him with guilt, seemingly for his very existence. Even as he averts his gaze, he doesn’t miss how her heart hammers in her chest. Aedes grits his teeth. 

He hates this. 

“Here.” His voice nearly cracks, words sticking awkwardly in his throat. Aedes stands, though his heart fills with lead upon hearing June’s gasp. 

God, he hates this so much.  

June Murphy, however bizarre and terrifying the situation, could not say she hated it.  

Perhaps, five minutes from now, when the reality of the situation sunk in… maybe then she would hate it. Maybe then she’d be completely and utterly terrified. 

But at this moment in time her mind was completely and utterly occupied with the very large, very handsome, and very naked vampire man who’d turned to rummage around her room.

Why? She had no idea, and frankly- she wasn’t sure her mind had the capacity to care. 

She would panic later. 

Aedes turned back, seemingly a little more aware of his lack of modesty as he made an awkward attempt to cover himself as he reapproached. Again, he kneels down, his piercing gazing locking June in place for the briefest moment, before he turns his head away, not wanting to look at her like this. Slowly brings his hand to her. In it, his shirt, now embarrassingly small. It was uncanny to see his clothes like this… to imagine what he had looked like in them... What he had looked like to her.  

She doesn’t take it. 

It doesn’t take Aedes long to reason why.

My hands… His throat constricted at the realization of what his hands, blackened and clawed, must look like at her size. Why would she take anything from hands like mine? 

Before he can pull his hand back, June speaks.

“Thank you.” Her voice, far too soft for his liking, is all the warning he has before he’s met with the strangest sensation. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels her touch, warm and feather light, take the shirt from his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Aedes begins, still averting his gaze, his hand moving to hide his teeth as he spoke, “That's the only clothing I have to offer-”

His apology is interrupted by a sound Aedes had not anticipated. 

June laughed. 

“Oh no- You’ll have to forgive me, but I think I have even less I can offer in the clothing department.”

Aedes remained frozen in place- stunned. She was laughing?

How could she be laughing?

His ears twitch, faint sounds of fabric being shifted and slid against soft skin pricking at his senses. Slowly, he turns back, a look of confusion on his face. He wants to ask her why she’s not panicking- Why hasn't she hid from him? He wants to ask her a whole myriad of questions, but at the sight of her sitting there in his shirt, the only sound that manages to escape him is a sharp inhale. 

It was a peculiar sight, seeing his clothes too large for her frame. His shirt hung loosely on her, hanging off her figure in a way that somehow seemed more lewd than her bare form. Ears hot, Aedes swallowed- quickly excusing himself to route through her wardrobe. 

----

“You really don’t know what's happening?”

In lieu of speaking, Aedes, clad in June’s loosest pair of baby blue shorts and what was supposed to be an oversized t-shirt, shook his head. He’d heard smallfolk talk of legends, of human blood giving his kind power but those were… vague superstitions? Or at least, he’d always assumed so- just some overly mystified explanation of his nature. 

Sitting on the floor beside June’s bed, Aedes frowned. He’d been drinking blood all his life and nothing more abnormal than a full stomach and some blood drunk thoughts had ever occurred. 

Just what exactly was going on?

Here he sat a hundred times the height he’d been the night before, and there she sat- magnitudes smaller.

His frown only deepened.

Had he…? He couldn’t have…

Aedes rests his head on the bed, trying desperately to grasp at a situation that, even now, seemed far too big for him to handle. He eyed June, her once imposing frame now dwarfed by her surroundings, the pillow she leaned against threatening to swallow her whole. 

Serves her right. He thought bitterly, his eyes lingering on her hands. Though he couldn’t ignore the itch that persisted at the back of his mind, an itch that gnawed at whatever mental fortitude he’d summoned to banish it from his conscious thought.

You’re lying. 

Aedes sighed, as if he could somehow expel the invasive thought from his mind. He didn’t miss the way his breath ruffled her hair- nor did he like it. 

She has no knowledge of the way my world works… She’ll trust humans-

Worse yet- she trusted him- at least enough to stay put. Once again, Aedes’ scowl deepens. 

How would she live like this?

How would he? 

His size was what allowed him to feed unnoticed. Like taking a sip from a lake- a way for him to hunt without killing. As meager as his stature had been, he’d had his stealth, his ease of access… he'd had plenty- his feedings a relative bounty every time.

Aedes chest tightens, a groan threatening to push past his lips. He runs his hands through his hair, trying and failing to ignore the growing sense of unease. 

How would he feed like this?

Brow furrowed, his ears flicked in agitation.  This was bad. 

This was dangerous. 

He was dangerous. 

Was this his life now? Aedes bites his lip, only to quickly cover his mouth a moment later, lest she see his teeth as she was. So close to being human, to having some shred of humanity- no longer something that could be seen as a pest, yet now someone that could be seen as something far worse. He tries in vain to swallow the growing panic rising in his chest.

He wouldn’t be seen as something worse, because he would be worse. He- 

As he stared daggers into the comforter, Aedes caught movement from the corner of his eye. 

June stood. 

Aedes froze. 

She walked towards him. 

He didn’t even breathe. 

As June moved closer and closer still, Aedes remained motionless, a deer caught in the headlights of a, very small, oncoming car. As she draws mere inches from his face, Aedes moves to pull back, but instead is stopped, the soft hum of her voice anchoring him in place like a leash around his neck. 

“Stay still.”

So he did. 

Ears folded back, he stayed, unmoving, as she brought herself so close to his face his eyes wouldn’t focus. So close he breathed her in on every inhale- sweet cream and carnal spice. So close if he so chose to, he could taste such a luxury. 

“You’re not… afraid of me?” His voice is low- hesitant even. 

Her touch makes him flinch. Gentle, as if he were still mere inches tall, June brushes back the stray hairs his frustrated mussing had garnered. She hums thoughtfully, and he finds himself wishing that sound would once again rattle his bones. 

“Should I be?” Her voice didn’t carry a hint of doubt. Though concerned, her voice felt …warm. 

Aedes hesitates for a moment.

“... yes.”

He wanted to lie- like she did. To tell her she would be safe with him. That he wouldn't hurt her. Yet he couldn’t bear to entertain this sad little fantasy where he pretended not to hear the way her heart raced, or see the way her hands shook- and selfishly, he couldn’t bear waiting for her foolish bravado to run out, lest he start believing he was anything but what nature had made him to be. He knew what he was- A monster.

It was time she learned that too. 

If this illusion had to be broken, it would be on his terms. 

June swallowed, biting her lip as his head, like a monument come to life, rose from where he rested it on the bed and closed the nearly nonexistent distance between them. He tilted his head just so, the way one does when leaning in to steal a kiss. Her knees felt weak, as did her resolve. As he moves closer, his nose brushes past her side, slowly, until it was his lips brushed up her frame. The wash of his breath as his lips part sends a shiver down her spine, a shiver that only grows as very large, very inhumane, teeth were revealed.  

“Don’t be foolish.” He whispered, voice silky and stern, lips brushing intimately against her body as he spoke, “Do you not think I’m tempted?” 

There's a pause, his question hanging heavy in the air before his lips pull back into a sneer, teeth bared as he adds, “I could have you in a single bite.”

June inhales, breath shakey as her thoughts run wild. Before she can even contemplate a response, she's already speaking, the words seeming to fall from her lips as easily as breathing. 

“So bite me then.”

[pedgito]

Aliiii, I need another Tom Grant fic in my life. Maybe makeup sex after he thinks reader is flirting with someone. 😮‍💨

author’s note: i can’t resist this soft boyfriend of a man for the life of me, so enjoy! this can be read as a third part to my previous tom fics but is also fine to read by itself!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), some possessiveness, soft dom!tom, slightly bratty!reader, fem terms/praise, insecure!tom, unprotected sex, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

“Eat.” Tom’s voice bellows through the long, drawn out silence.

You’ve been staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, mixed in with the scrapping of his fork as he twirled the spaghetti around the utensil and piled it into his open mouth.

He’s angry, annoyed, pissed—and not a single inclination as to why exactly, just an expression void of warmth or comfort.

You stab at the noodles lacking the sauce of his you loved so much. He’d rushed dinner, slamming dishes around in annoyance as you picked up around the trailer. Tom didn’t always get like this, but there were times where he couldn’t convey what he wanted to say, let it build up and took it out on you by chance. You couldn’t blame him, you were guilty of it too.

“Not hungry.” You mumble, the fork slipping from your hands and clattering against the plate.

“Oh, what now?” Tom asks, his enunciation around the vowels elongated as his deep Cornish accent peeked through when he got riled up—never usually out of anger, but here you were.

“You’re the one who wanted to go back home, you know.” You argue, pushing your plate to the side. Tom’s nearly finished with his food, following suit as he chews on the last bite of pasta. “Not me, you.”

“You know why,” Tom replies arrogantly, his voice as calm and level as ever, “don’t play oblivious.”

He’d caught a man, a friend of a friend of another friend, hounding you with a drink, begging you to accept. It was Tom’s idea to come to the party to begin with, trying to be supportive of his close friend, show up and be polite before slipping out unnoticed.

And really, Tom was slightly to blame here. He left you unattended at a party full of people you didn’t know, forcing you to meld yourself into conversations you didn’t care about, a drink being slipped into your hand insistently by a guy who looked beyond sketchy.

You weren’t naive—there was no way you were taking a sip of that drink. Still, you accepted it with a smile, nursing it close to your chest as the man lingered and talked with the surrounding people, all the while Tom catching things from a distance, getting an entirely different view of what was actually happening.

He wasn’t mad at you either—frustrated, yes, to a degree. But, he’s never experienced jealousy like this. He never worried with Ruth, not at first. Things changed, he didn’t know how to handle that situation with her so he fled.

You were left to pick up the pieces she’d left broken.

You’re too polite for your own good, exchanging meaningless small talk and cheap smiles until Tom is gently tugging you away, tossing the drink into a nearby trash bin before he’s crowding you in the passenger seat of his car and initiating a silent drive home.

It got you to this point, heated gazes shared across your tiny dining room table, eyes never leaving you as he sips from the glass, a brief movement as his lips barely touch the cup.

“You left me alone,” You force out, standing up abruptly to reach for your dishes, guiding them toward the sink, “and now you feel the need to act jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.” He remained firm, leaning back in his chair, cup scraping against the cheap tabletop and he pushed it around lazily with his finger.

He was the poster boy for just that, his eyes flickering to and away from you every so often, watching as you scraped the food away into the trash. It’s his fault, he knows it—but the tinge of harm to his ego, your relationship, even if it was nothing, it still eats at him.

He’s tried hard to get to this point, a vulnerability and openness he never had in past relationships, and he was screaming that up. Again.

“I don’t know why you won’t trust me.” You sigh, hands pressed hard against the edge of the sink, dishes clanking against each other as you tossed them in. “It’s been a year, Tom.”

He can see the tense line of your shoulders as you rest there, head hung slightly as you close your eyes, taking a deep breath through your nose. He rises slowly, silently, making his way toward you.

“I trust you.” He reminds you softly, “God, I fuckin’ trust you. You’ve no idea.”

There’s a gentle press of hands against your waist, his front crowding against your back and his chin resting against your shoulder. He’s light and gentle as he breathes his apology.

“Can’t stand seeing you being drooled on,” He admits, “M’not blaming them, you’re a pretty one.”

You laugh softly, turning your head back toward them.

“Yeah?” You question with a cheeky tone, earning a blush faced and subtle smile from Tom. “So, what’s with all the shit then?”

Tom is silent for too long, fingers cataloging every curve of your hips, stomach, until his palm is resting flat over the skin, forcing you tight against him and pressing it to the obvious and hard line of his cock in his sweats, telling you everything you needed to know.

“Needin’ to remind you,” Tom speaks low, lips barely touching the shell of your ear, “feels like you forgot.”

“Of?” You ask humorously, voice trickling with amusement.

It’s clear what Tom wanted, and for the time being, you’d allow it.

“Who you belong to,” Tom says, coarse fingers rising to grip your face, thumb rubbing along the expanse of your cheek until you’re coaxed to look at him, eyes connecting his, all big and brown and everything but intimidating. But, he’s demanding, his grip tight like a vice, “s’not fair all these other chavs get a chance at you when I’m right here.”

“I only want you, Tom.”

It’s the most serious you’ve ever been. It feels like you’re constantly reminding him, but you’d do it a thousand times, until it’s burned into his memory.

The hand pressed against your stomach slides toward the front of your shorts, beyond the waistband until he’s cupping you bare, barking a short, quiet laugh as his finger dip between your legs and coats with your wetness, feeling that neediness throb inside you the moment he pressed himself against your back.

Sex didn’t fix everything, but it sure as hell made things better for the time being—Tom could have you however he needed you, there was time to sort out everything else later.

“Prove it?” He challenges, voice clouded and hit as he pressed himself further against you, rubbing a gentle rhythm into your ass while his fingers played between your folds, featherlight touches that had you begging for more, the most.

“How?” You say soft, breathing out on a sigh as you push away, forgoing the dirty dishes for now as you turn to him.

“Dunno,” He shrugs, following your backwards ascent to the bedroom, his gaze growing evermore intense as he approaches, “you’re smart?”

You shrug, “You're asking?”

“Smiling at those fuckers,” He says with a forced laugh, mouth turning up into a smirk, his hand extending to press you against the edge of the bed by your hips, lending you to lean back, eyes glued to the slow crawl of his body over you as he adjusted you further and further up the bed, “you knew what you were doing, love.”

“Being nice,” You defend, “polite, you know?”

Tom huffs through his nose, not believing it for a second.

“Touch my cock, baby.” He tells you, the tone slightly startling. It was still, unwavering, lacking the normal warmth it carried.

His hand reaches for yours, guiding it over the tent in his sweatpants, squeezing for emphasis as you look at him, following the fleeting gaze of his—he’s taking you in, every line and curve of your face, and you’re mesmerized.

“Feel that?” He gruffs out, groaning softly when you rub your palm against him, daring to stretch your fingers underneath the fabric holding you back.

You nod silently, eager as your chin tips up toward him. His hands spread wide over your knees, spreading your legs apart.

“Gonna make me fuck you, ‘s that what I need to do?” Tom asks, hooking behind the juncture in your knee to pull against him, a small, playful yelp escaping you. “Am I needing to remind you who you should be smiling at?”

“Tom,” You complain, an airy giggle escaping your chest, “I’m yours, is that not obvious?”

He smiles, pressing a quick but firm kiss to your lips.

“Sweetheart, just play along.” Tom begs, “For me?”

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth to bite back the smile threatening to show, nodding obediently. Your eyes shift to seriousness, finally dipping your fingers into his waistband to press against his bare cock—he didn’t even bother with underwear after his shower, he’d planned this.

“Tell me,” He hums softly against your cheek, grinding up into your touch slowly, “how hard do I need to fuck you to forget about those guys?”

There’s no response, distracted by the lips assaulting your skin, hands squeezing in the curves of your body in a way that leaves you speechless every time. But, that’s not what Tom wants, gripping your face between his fingers firmly.

“Answer me.” He chided, unable to hide that sneaking smile creeping into his face. “M’not asking twice.”

“Not even thinking about anyone but you,” You assure him, struggling against his grip slightly, “I’m telling you, how else can I prove that?”

“You’re my smart girl,” He compliments, ever the smoosher, “you’ll figure it out.”

And you do. Quickly.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Tom underneath you despite his obvious struggle for power—he likes the idea of being in control, to a point, but mostly it’s just a way to mess with you, rile you up.

It worked.

Despite switching positions and finding yourself seated fully on his lap, cock stuffed inside you to the degree where if it was any further it would be a problem, his thumbs leaving indentations into your hip bones as you rocked with his movements, letting him control the pace.

He’s got your hands tied up messily in the bunched material of your shirt, twisting and looping until your hands are immobile, leaving them interlocked over his chest with nowhere else to, nowhere else to roam.

Your face punches in discomfort slightly, always needing a moment to adjust to his size, but he wasn’t giving you that.

“No need for greediness now,” He chirps, bottom lip stuffed between his teeth as he bit, his chest rocking with every sharp thrust, his hips nearly lifting off the bed as he stabilizes you on top of him, “got my cock in you and you still want more?”

He sounds sinful, voice thick with arousal.

“Not that,” You say mindlessly, mouth drifting open as he pinned you down, hitting that familiar spot over and over again, stuck in an endless loop of desperate moans and pleas, “it’s—fuck, slower, please.”

You shove against him slightly, fingertips digging into his skin until he groans, enlightened by his own pain.

“You’ve got it,” He encourages, “never had a problem takin’ me before, why now?”

And just to drive you even further into madness.

“Said you were going to prove it,” Tom teases, “can’t even take my cock and you want me to slow down?”

“Tom.” You say once, a soft needy tone.

Tom makes an obvious noise of disapproval, shaking his head as he uses his advantage to flip you over in one quick movement, pressing you roughly into the mattress.

Somehow he manages to get your hands above your head and under the pillow you’re resting on before you can even process, his hips keeping a rough but uneven pace as he made it pure torture to be consumed by him in that moment.

“Please, please, please,” It’s the only thing you can think, not sure of what you’re begging for, “Tom, enough.”

Tom nudges your face toward him, his fingers slotting around your cheek as bringing your eyes to his, his expression just as intense as earlier, staring at you from across the dinner table.

“Tell me,” He urges, “gotta talk to me, love.”

You peek up toward your bindings, “It’s uncomfortable,” You pout, and he’s undoing the knot in seconds, rubbing at the tender skin, “thank you.”

“That all?” He asks, your expression flicking away, going shy for a moment. “Mmm, no going teazy on me now.”

You flex your sore hands, reaching for the soft lines of his face, thumb running along the dimple in his cheek as he smiled, watching you fall more and more into madness below him. You moan raggedly when he’s lifting your leg, switching the angle deeper.

“I’m begging you,” You gasp, his fingers tightening against your skin, “I need slow, Tom. Please.”

Tom understand when things get too much, they sense of protection and comfort you’re craving from him creeping back as he slows, releasing the tight hold he on you and settling for something simpler, your knees resting loosely at his hips as he fucked into you, slow and deep.

Tom nods to himself, forehead bumping against your own as he leaned further against you, “Good—see how easy it when you’re not bein’ difficult?”

You scoff lightly, eyebrows knitting together when his hand sneaks between your legs, rubbing at your already overworked clit.

“Good girl,” He laughs deeply, “and they get rewarded too.”

You respond absently, nodding in agreement to whatever he was saying as you tipped over the edge, body going hot as your orgasmed creeped in and took you by surprise, moaning brokenly into Tom’s open mouth as his own thrusts slowed, a few lingering pumps before he was spilling inside you.

The peace that follows is blissful, quiet moments as you both separate and redress, trying desperately to ignore Tom’s continued gazes your way, knowing you couldn’t resist if he tried hard enough.

But he surprises you, speaking a quiet, “M’sorry.”

You smile to yourself, fixing the shirt over your head as you approach him, perching your thighs over his lap as he shifts back, hands resting against the mattress. You trace the pale skin of his chest, stopping at the small patch of hair near the top.

“It’s okay,” You shrug, before thinking for a moment, “Well—it’s not, to be fair. But, I’m not mad.”

“You sure?” He asks shyly, eyes squinting in apprehension of rejection.

You nod slightly, taping his chest with your fingertips lightly, “I’m not complaining about the sex—fuck if that isn’t better when you’re kinda pissed off, but I’m begging you to trust me, Tom. I would never hurt you.”

And he’s heard that before, but with you, he can see that you mean it.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.” He speaks boldly, smirking confidently. “Just puttin’ that out there now.”

“Bold of you,” You note, teasing him slightly when he leans in for a kiss, pulling away briefly, “help me clean up dinner and we have a deal, yeah?”

Tom couldn’t think of a fairer trade.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[seresinsbabe]

Conveniently Yours

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: In a desperate attempt to pay for your mom's cancer treatment you take a job as a dancer at one of NYC's prestigious strip clubs where you meet Jake Seresin who just happens to need a wife.

Warnings: Cancer, talk of death, talk of parental death, cursing, eventual smut. Uhhhh nothing else I can think of. If I missed anything I apologize!

Word count: 1k

A/N: Prologue is here! I'm going to try getting chapter one out today or tomorrow, just depends on what my holiday plans end up being!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

Masterlist | Next Chapter

“The board thinks it would be good for the company’s image if you had a woman at your side.” Jake Seresin rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. The sleeve of his shirt pulled down enough to show off the expensive Rolex on his wrist as he rubbed his eyes out of frustration.

“That’s ludicrous. What does my relationship status have to do with a fucking tech company’s image?” He stared over at Javy who just stared back apologetically.

On the other side of the meeting table Chester Cain cleared his throat. Fucking fossil that asshat was. Jake had been hoping that when his father retired and passed the company on to him that Cain would take his leave as well. Apparently Cain decided to make it his personal mission to throw a wrench in every aspect of Jake’s life until he died a bitter old man. “The latest tabloid photos of your escapades have caused a downturn in our stock numbers. You either stay out of the public eye,” Jake let out a snort. That wasn’t going to happen. He was a social creature, he couldn’t just avoid the public eye. Not when you were the CEO of the world’s largest tech giant. He was named number one in Forbes latest “Forty under Forty”. Avoiding publicity wasn’t a possibility for him. Besides, he liked seeing his face plastered everywhere. 

“Or you settle down. Get married to a respectable woman. Not one of these aireheaded heiresses you like so much.” If looks could kill Cain would have met his long overdue death right now.

Marriage?

Sure, maybe when he’d been young and naive he had thought about marriage. Then he started to really date and he learned that money is what ruled the prerogative of most. Women didn’t want him for who he was, they wanted him for what he had. After getting burned more than he felt his fair share, Jake knew a meaningful relationship wasn’t in the cards for him.

Javy could see that his vision was growing red and he called the meeting. If they let it go on any further it was bound to get explosive. “We’ll come back next week and discuss this further.”

The other board members cleared the room, Cain staying longer, intent on saying something but Javy stopped him before he could. 

“I wish the old man would bite the dust already.” Jake mumbled dryly. “What changed? I mean, our stocks waver all the time. That’s the nature of the fucking stock exchange.” As far as he was aware the stock hadn’t dropped that drastically. Maybe a point or two, nothing they couldn’t come back from.

« « « « « « « « « « « « » » » » » » » » » » » »

“I’m sorry, we’ve tried everything to get approval through insurance, but they won’t approve it.” Doctor Sandlin’s eyes held an apologetic look as he watched you take in the information. For weeks they’d submitted everything they could, he’d been on the phone with the insurance company more times than he really cared and still they denied to cover your mother’s cancer treatments.

You felt your mother squeeze your hand from her spot next to you. “What does that mean doctor?” Her normally vibrant voice was weak. She’d already gone without several rounds of her chemo and the cancer was hitting back hard.

The treatments had been doing well and she was getting closer and closer to beating it and then suddenly insurance flipped the switch. Refusing to cover any of her costs.

“It means any future chemotherapy sessions will have to be paid out of pocket prior to treatment.” You stared at a poster on the exam room wall. Your vision started going blurry as you tried to wrack your brain for something you could do. 

In all her life your mom had never done any wrong to anyone she’d ever met. You wished you were half as kind hearted as she was. Ellen had never met a stranger, she never made an enemy. Your friends loved her, but maybe that was because she was like a second mom. Out of all your closest friends, you were the only one that had a stable home environment. Two loving parents, you didn’t have a ton of money growing up, but you never had to worry about a meal or having a warm bed to sleep in.

Everything came crashing down two years ago, when your dad had been killed in a mugging. Suddenly your family was without a father and without the main source of income. You’d nearly completed nursing school, but you had to drop out to work way more than full time to make ends meet. And then when your mother started her cancer treatments she couldn’t work anymore, which left you as the sole bread maker. 

“If she doesn’t get the treatments, how long does she have?” It was a question you weren’t sure you wanted answered, but knew it needed to be.

“A matter of months.”

“And with the treatment?”

“Provided it works, she could go into full remission and have years left.”

You drew in a shaky breath, tears brimming in your eyes as you pictured life without your mom. Of course you always knew one day it would happen. Just…you hadn’t imagined it being this soon.

“I’ll figure it out. We’ll schedule her next chemo treatment and I’ll have the money.” Both your mom and Doctor Sandling looked at you, your mom with concern and Doctor Sandlin with skeptical pity. You weren’t backing down. Not anytime soon.

You hadn’t been able to save your dad, but you would be damned if you didn’t at least try to save your mom.

While your mom scheduled the chemo appointment you walked around the corner, not wanting her to hear what you were about to do.

The phone rang a couple of times before Natasha finally answered.

 “Nix, is the club still looking for another dancer?”

[catchyhuh]

(gif of guy pointing at himself and mouthing "me?" here)

WELL! WE ALREADY DID HOW OFTEN *THEY* SAY I LOVE YOU AND NOW VICE VERSA! how do they REACT when someone says i love you and do they even fucking believe it? more at 10

lupin:

yeah he loves you too! conversation continues like nothing changed

he believes them. like he does think they mean it. he just can’t imagine it bearing a lot of weight since, as discussed, he doesn’t usually say it with a lot of weight

if it were truly a serious circumstance and the person reiterated, no, this means something, i love you, then he might react a bit more genuinely

by. not saying it back

lupin says “i love you” when he wants and when he feels it’s right. not out of obligation. if anything it feels lame saying it back because you’re just copying the first person. so he just smiles a bit more sincerely. 

he enjoys it. it’s nice.

jigen:

uh huh. sure. HE’S NOT BELIEVING AAANYBODY ABOUT THIS MAN HE’S NOT BELIEVING ANYBODY

he’s not believing HIMSELF. even coming from people he knows he just takes it as a lighthearted statement every single time. living with lupin for decades probably doesn’t help his case

at best he’d take it to mean “you mean a lot to me” which is… technically true, i guess, but there’s something missing there. and even then, he still doesn’t totally believe even THAT coming from most people

if somebody really did get the closest they could to convincing him, he’d be less prickly for a while, maybe a bit more quiet. but for the most part he’s reacting internally, and once he gets past the confusion and mistrust, it… does give him a small warm feeling in his chest. a small one

fujiko:

it’s funny, because she simultaneously believes them and also doesn’t

taking it in good faith here, does so-and-so THINK they love her? yes. do they think they’re being honest? yes! she knows this. but do they really love her? no!

usually when she hears it it’s almost completely a hollow statement, so she does know through context and actions when someone really is being genuine. it’s just a matter of how much actual fujiko-ing they’ve witnessed that proves whether or not they really mean it

it’s really easy to love the IDEA of fujiko, but as a personnnn?? hmmmmmm

the only time it’s truly easy to make her believe the statement is when it comes from a kid. they’ve got no reason to lie, nothing to gain, and they’re usually pretty good judges of character. 

don’t get it twisted she’s not “maternal” by any means lmao it just feels… the most believable, coming from people who exclusively see it as a big announcement of admiration and friendship and everything. very cute!

goemon:

can i throw out something maybe disagreeable. goemon is the easiest to convince. yes more than zenigata i know you were thinking “hmhmhm obviously zenigata being the sensitive motherfucker he is is going to rank most trusting” nope! it’s this fucking wall of emotion

you can point to at least one ep from each series, like every third tv special, at least once per manga run no MATTER the author, and goemon will truly, honest to god believe he has met his match. he hears the words “i love you” and just… subconsciously projects his own usage of the term onto the other person

and if he’s this much of a sucker for the romantic i love you than you know he’s even more accepting of a platonic one! because WHY EVEN LIE ABOUT THAT

it’s not a matter of him being stupid or naive, of course he knows there are bad people trying to manipulate others, including him, and he KNOWS he has a sign on his back that says “I GET SLIGHTLY EMBARRASSED WHEN SOMEBODY OPENS THE DOOR FOR ME AND SMILES -- EASY TARGET” but. he’s just… very willing to believe that people don’t immediately use love as a stepping stone in a scheme

zenigata:

he wants to believe it the most. he kind of flounders with it for a minute. is it.. a joke? is it a bit? no… okay, is it to catch him off guard and knock him down? not that either. hm. is it some kind of secret coded message he was supposed to know and missed or wh

someone would have to say it at least three times over the span of multiple days for him to even entertain the idea that they could be sincere. AND HE REALLY, REALLY WANTS IT TO BE SINCERE

because if he KNOWS its genuine he can smile really big with a goofy giggle and say the same. it’s just hard working up to that point, is all

deep down he does believe it initially every time, so it stings twice as much if it’s a ruse of some kind even though he DID suspect that. rough

but people don’t usually pull that kind of “build a very solid close friendship/convince this man i’ve fallen in love with him” tactic on zenigata the way they do with the others? so he’s a lot safer from this than he realizes! just. comparatively!

[mattnben-bennmatt]

On being out in Hollywood

Nor has Affleck been excluded from one of Hollywood's favorite games: Guess Who's Gay. His sexuality has been the subject of blind tabloid reports, and Affleck is often told that it's a foregone conclusion in the gay community that he and Damon are in love—a nugget that Affleck seems to get a particular kick out of. According to Hollywood gossip, says Affleck, "not only is every [actor] gay, but somebody has a friend who slept with them. Maybe there are gay people who are in the closet in Hollywood—I'm sure there probably are—but I'm sure they didn't sleep with Henry's friend." As for his own sexuality, Affleck says, "I like to think that if I were gay I would be out. Rupert Everett-style."

— From Ben Affleck's interview for Vanity Fair (October 1999).

-

Q: To go back to you and Ben, would it be so terrible if you were a couple? DAMON: The question of whether Ben and I are gay is so awkward in a lot of ways. There is no real right way to answer it without offending somebody. It’s offensive to just deny it fiercely, as if there would be anything wrong with it if we were a couple. That would be offensive to the people I grew up with. I don’t want to be that person. At the same time, I can’t say it’s true because it’s not. Ben once made light of this type of tabloid speculation by telling an interviewer something like, “I’m sure there are gay people who are in the closet in Hollywood, but also I’m sure that they didn’t sleep with Henry’s friend.” [Laughs] [...] Q: If you were, in fact, in a relationship with another man, would you be in the same position career-wise? DAMON: I would like to say that if I were gay, I’d be out. But I think that’s not fair because I’m not gay, and I don’t know personally what pressure is brought to bear on you if you are. My short answer, without a lot of reflection, is that if you were out, your career would suffer. Would Rock Hudson have had the career he had if he’d been out? No way. Q: But, of course, we’ll never know until someone with your level of leading-man visibility comes out and until Hollywood allows the box office rather than its own internalized prejudices to decide if the public is ready for such a move. With a few test cases, maybe we could move away from this type of discussion. Saying that may be naive, though, given our culture’s obsession with celebrities. DAMON: And with celebrity bedrooms.

— From Matt Damon’s interview for The Advocate (18 January 2000).

-

PLAYBOY: Liberace lived his life in the closet, and times have changed a bit. What was it like when you and Ben Affleck were constantly asked if you were gay, back when you were starting your careers? DAMON: I never denied those rumors because I was offended and didn’t want to offend my friends who were gay—as if being gay were some kind of fucking disease. It put me in a weird position in that sense. The whole thing was just gross. But look, there have been great signs of progress—the fact that Anderson Cooper and Ellen DeGeneres can come out so beautifully and powerfully, and it’s a big fucking deal that it turns out nobody gives a shit. If Liberace were alive today, everybody would love his music and nobody would care what he did in his private life. Like with Elton John.

— From Matt Damon's interview for Playboy magazine (January 2013).

-

[In Behind The Candelabra] Damon was a straight man playing gay. Is it harder for actors to be openly gay in Hollywood? “I’m sure. When Ben and I first came on the scene there were rumours that we were gay because it was two guys who wrote a script together.” Really? “I know. It’s just like any piece of gossip… and it put us in a weird position of having to answer, you know what I mean? Which was then really deeply offensive. I don’t want to, like [imply] it’s some sort of disease – then it’s like I’m throwing my friends under the bus. But at the time, I remember thinking and saying, Rupert Everett was openly gay and this guy – more handsome than anybody, a classically trained actor – it’s tough to make the argument that he didn’t take a hit for being out.” He thinks attitudes are changing, and welcomes the introduction of same-sex marriage in California in 2008. “I think it must be really hard for actors to be out publicly,” he continues. “But in terms of actors, I think you’re a better actor the less people know about you period. And sexuality is a huge part of that. Whether you’re straight or gay, people shouldn’t know anything about your sexuality because that’s one of the mysteries that you should be able to play.”

— From Matt Damon's interview for The Guardian (September 2015).

[ivestas]

bro,,,your last ghost one,,,,head full, big thonks

what if hound!reader never went looking for simon because she thought he was dead?? or better yet, she DID look, so vigorously in fact that her superiors at the time maybe misinformed her of his death, even going as far as planting fake evidence??👁👁

also im thinking about old nicknames..,.,hitting him with the "si-guy" or "'mon-mon the man" or smth 💀

can’t say goodbye to yesterday

PART TWO TO ‘HEARTS ALIGNED’

Summary: You were deceived by the same people you fought for. You discuss it with Ghost. 

Tags: soldier!fem!reader (call sign “hound”) x ghost (2022 version), childhood friends, smoking, canon divergence of both the game and the oneshot, barely edited, death, lowkey konig x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: anon, you're genuinely such a GENIUS!!!! those thonks fr are gold bc now my head is full of thonks too hehe---this post will hopefully extend those clever thonks and added more??? 

You were sitting against the wall while Ghost was laying in his cot. The night had grown old, but you refused to leave him—that won’t happen again, not now, not ever. 

You were on your third cigarette, the smoke having long since coated your mouth in a thick layer of cheap tobacco and newspaper. Ghost didn’t seem to mind, laying on his side, watching you with tired eyes—more so watching the cigarette. 

Extending it forward, your head tipped to the side. “You sure you don’t want one?” 

“No. I should be sleeping.” 

“You’re eyeing my cigarette though.”

“Just lost in thought.”

“About smoking a cigarette?” 

He huffed. “No. Just...” he sat up now, the cot straining under his movement. “You’ve changed. And you also haven’t—and you haven’t told me why you didn’t search for me.”

You frowned.

“Jus’ tell me that. Tell me why. I don’t give a bloody fuck if you were just too lazy too—”

“Smoke with me and I’ll tell you everything.” Your voice was strained. 

Emotions were high, tension was thick, maybe it was foolish to think that would just dissolve by planting yourself in his room. You weren’t kids. This wasn’t just a blow-up about something dumb, and you hated it. Because at least when you were kids, the arguments were insignificant, the worst that could happen is you calling him a ‘booger-brained idiot’. 

This was real. This brought true hurt.

You were thankful when Ghost finally nodded, getting up and sitting across you on the floor. Despite sitting criss-crossed, he was huge. He towered over you. König would often shimmy away, giving you a little space—he’d bend his body downward in a vain attempt to dwarf himself.

But Ghost sat tall. He stared right at you and lifted a hand. 

You gave him the cigarette. 

You watched as he lifted the balaclava a little, setting the end at the bridge of his nose. It was just a small sliver of his face, but fuck did it strike you right at your heart. 

His face was all firm lines—carved and rigid, with the lightest scar running along his lips. 

Simon—smaller, younger Simon—had a round face. Soft cheeks, a crooked smile, unscarred.

You looked away to the side at the hard concrete wall, back pressed against it. 

A waft of smoke hit you, then a finger lightly tapped on your hands. 

You turned. Ghost was lifting the cigarette to you. 

Taking it, you murmured a quick thanks before taking a puff out of it yourself. Ghost tugged down the balaclava once more. 

“Why didn’t you search for me?” 

“I did,” you responded simply. “It was when I was younger. Naive. More trusting. You know, I searched for you every moment I got—thought you still went by ‘Simon Riley’. Even went as far as to go to the superiors and ask all nicely—told them, ‘he’s the son of that piece of shit drunkard, the one who you constantly kissed up to.’” You laugh though it’s devoid of any humor.  

Ghost only watched, listened, eyes flicking between the cigarette and your straying gaze. 

“They—they told me you were dead. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. ‘Simon Riley was killed in action a few years back’ one of them had told me, all sad-like and frowning. ‘He was a good soldier.’” You scoffed. “No fanfare, no tricks, they just—they said you were dead. Showed me a document or two, I hardly fuckin’ remember, I just... I tried to forget. Not to care.”

Your hands were shaking. You didn’t know why. Your heart was silent, so was your mind, but your body—it was moving on its own. As though shedding a deeper feeling your own mind couldn’t process. 

“So can you imagine my surprise when, just a few months ago, a man named ‘Ghost’ happens to be registered as ‘Simon Riley’ in their files? I couldn’t believe it, thought there was another Simon Riley whose from the UK, but I was curious. So... yeah. I ended up in KorTac ‘cause I heard rumors 141 was gonna come along and do some mission together.” Again, you laughed. “Then I saw you—and fuck, did I tell you how much you’ve grown? You look so different—actually can I say something weird?” 

“Yeah.” His eyes met yours. 

An unfamiliar smile formed on your lips. “It... it makes me happy, seeing you with that Scot, all grown, and... it’s hard to put into words, but it makes me feel proud. And it also hurts like a bitch.”

He hummed. “Could say the same.” 

“Then say the same. I want to hear it, Simon.”

“It makes me feel proud, and it hurts like a bitch.” 

You snorted. “Ass.”

He reached for your cigarette. You handed it to him. “So... does that clear things?” 

“Yep,” he tugged his balaclava off this time, pushing the cigarette between his lips. He’s handsome. “Shoulda guessed you’re too much of a gullible dumbass to find me.” 

“You piece of—keep talking shit and I’ll kick your ass!” You reached for the cigarette. He moved away from your reach, a shit-eating grin now plastered on his face.

“You kickin’ my ass? I’d like to see you try, pipsqueak.” 

“Don’t test me mon-mon.” 

He glared. “Mon-mon?”  

“Sorry, wait, mon mon the man—my bad, nearly forgot the whole damn title.” 

“Keep callin’ me that and I’ll be the one kicking your ass.” 

“Not gonna listen to a guy named si-guy.” 

“Shut. Up.” 

You laughed. It was dumb and childish—not even that funny, frankly—but something about Simon frowning all seriously brought it out of you. 

A moment later, the frown disappeared, and Simon handed the cigarette back with a  little smile.  

Bonus headcanons (post oneshot):

When you two were kids, you often took the role of the mature one to reign in any dumb ideas that Simon schemed, though you’d participate in them moments later. 

The roles have reversed now: you are the dumbass and Ghost tries his best to keep it under control. 

The moment you’re near Ghost, a little layer of your cold exterior melts a little and you allow yourself to drop your guard a little and be loose-lipped—though, in public or with the guys, you tone it down a little and still address him as Ghost. 

In private though? The names are everything except for Ghost. 

Si-guy, mon-mon the man, syphilis, Simon says, se-si-so-fum (fe-fi-fo-fum), etc. 

Half the time the names just don’t even correlate with his and he quickly just got used to it. 

No one really notices the change between the two of you except for Soap, who takes note of the small glances the two of you exchange like it’s a secret language that could only be communicated between you guys.

He even noticed the small brush of your hand against Ghost’s shoulder after a particularly difficult mission and he returned it moments later. 

He has no idea if your friends, lovers, or just like?? Related maybe?? even if it would make ZERO sense for that to be the case.

In regards to König, Ghost would be protective. 

He wouldn’t be shy to voice his thoughts against the relationship because he’s seen how monstrous König could be on the battlefield and worries that he’s just hiding that ‘true persona’ of his for whatever reason. 

Also because he’s possessive; he’s convinced himself he’s just looking after you but he doesn’t like the idea of you straying away again but this time for some other guy. 

He also doesn’t know if he likes you romantically or not: he likes you, but he has no idea if the strength comes from a romantic pull or if it’s just platonic. He just wants you close. 

Also, both of you know each other’s tells; old habits die hard, and the tells you both had of discomfort from childhood still exist to this day.

Simon would go quiet and have a very specific stare that just kind of... glazes over. It’s dissociative.

You’d gently pry him out of that state with uncharacteristically soft words, making random observations or jokes. 

Whenever you're in a similar state, he'd just sit beside you and kind of lean in—he might just straight up grab your hand and squeeze if no one is nearby.

Overall, to any outsider, you guys would just appear to be comrades with the same layers of cold and bile, but in reality, you guys have history.

Despite the time that had passed, you'd still call each other the best of friends.

You're satisfied with that, but Ghost is unsure if he wants something more.

Until then, he'll just shoot König glares until he figures out what he really wants.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[ghcstao3]

this came to me in a dream but i saw a artist!soap/civilian!ghost post-breakup au sometime last month and it hasn’t left my head because think of the Angst!! like. imagine ghost still having paint stains on his otherwise spotless hardwood floors from where soap used to station his easel. or soap locking away his sketchbook dedicated to just ghost’s face because of his strict no photos rule. actually foaming at the mouth thinking of soap’s journal allll the time

this was good practice because Man i do not write angst often. but in any case! i adored this prompt

-

Simon had been naive to think that there wouldn’t be remnants of Johnny left behind in his home after they’d broken up.

He thinks, looking back, that maybe it had only been some sort of pathetic hope to make it less painful, that he could return home and not have to remember in any part everything Johnny that had invaded over the years. That had infected and melded with Simon until each of their lives had become unrecognizable from the other.

Of course, Simon isn't so lucky. Because in no world is Johnny so easily forgettable, especially not after years of intimacy, or vulnerability. Not after years of real, horribly profound love.

The breakup had been deemed mutual, but it hardly feels that way most days. For the best feels like a complete lie, in retrospect.

Simon forces himself to move on, though. He can’t dwell on emptied spaces and a silence far too loud. He can’t cling to memories of domesticity and the belief that it’d last forever. Simon doesn’t get to have those things. He's not sure why he ever thought that Johnny would be the exception to everything before.

It still hurts seeing the permanent marks left behind in his home, however.

He tries his best to stop thinking about Johnny, and he succeeds for the most part—until he does stupid things like wanting to rearrange the furniture in what had been Johnny’s spaces, and discovers with a bitter fondness splotches of long-since dried paint neither of them had ever thought to clean because there would be more in the future. Because there was meant to be more in the future.

And as he sits on the floor for the first time in months truly missing Johnny, contemplating whether it’d be worth mustering the courage to scrub the floor of these remains, Simon wonders if Johnny has been managing any better than he has.

Probably, Simon thinks miserably. He’s always been the better man.

- - - - -

Immediately after their breakup, Johnny keeps himself together better than anyone thought he’d be able to.

Because they all thought he and Simon were madly in love. And they were, for a while. But things always change, though, don’t they?

As time passes, however, and Johnny settles into a life without Simon for the first time in a very long time, moving on grows increasingly difficult. He’s a mess, quite honestly, as put together as he appears to everyone else.

It’s with anger that he believes Simon is doing better, after everything. Because he’d never been as weak as Johnny. Because he wouldn’t have to think twice about throwing out what isn’t his, unlike Johnny—who cannot stand the thought of looking at old sketches of Simon, but is just as reluctant to burn those final bridges and toss out every journal reminiscent of a life he’ll never live again. Who wants to rip those pieces to shreds but continue to treasure them all the same.

He finds a box. An unmarked, nondescript cardboard box. He packs away every journal he'd dedicated to Simon, tapes the box shut, and hides it in his attic among boxes almost exactly alike. He never labels it, not wanting to offer any more power to those journals—but Johnny can never fully bring himself to forget.

Its presence still gets shoved to the very back corners of his mind. Then finally, finally he can breathe. Finally he can leave those final pieces of what he had with Simon behind.

Johnny is foolish to think that, though. Because he had forgotten just how much of his life, his art had been occupied by Simon. Johnny still sees Simon in so much of what he's created, what he continues to create.

And when he stumbles across one of the first sketches he'd drawn of Simon, in a notebook not separate for the man like all the others, Johnny has to sit and wonder just where they had went wrong.

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hi! It ain’t a sweet chapter, sorry:( but it’ll get better soon! Promise! I’m also thinking about posting one of the smut one shots that I’ve already written…about our sweet Stevie wearing a bunny costume and…a cute bunny tail…if you know what I mean👀

Warnings; heartbreak </3

You took out your phone, to Steve; I’m sorry, I can’t do this. It’s over.

It was over.

Steve looked down at his phone when he heard the ringtone he had just for you. A smile crept onto his lips, but it quickly disappeared. “What is it?”, Bucky asked next to him, trying to peek at his phone. He immediately showed Bucky the message, since he had to listen to Steve’s rant about you for the past few hours, so he knew everything about your situation. Maybe more than he’d like to…

But it was interesting, he had to admit. So he had listened and imagined how it would be to have a woman in charge. It sounded really…appealing. The whip? Just wow.

After reading the message he looked back at Steve, as confused as the blonde, but less hurt. “I don’t know what happened? I didn’t do anything-I mean- I…I told her I loved her but…but I thought she felt the same. Do you think it’s because of that? Because I said I loved her? God did I really mess it up so soon? Was it my fault?”, he started rambling, making Bucky shake his shoulders forcefully. “Shut up, it’s not your fault. You have to ask her. Do it now-text her-call her or god, I don’t know, go to her place. Talk to her. There has to be a reason-maybe she’s scared of the age difference? Maybe…maybe…I don’t know”, Bucky tried to think of a reason, not even suspecting Steve’s father being the cause of all this.

Steve wiped away a single tear from his cheek, that he hadn’t even noticed falling. “You’re right. I’ll drive to her place. And I’ll buy flowers-maybe chocolate? I don’t even know what flowers she liked-god maybe I shouldn’t be her boyfriend. Maybe I’d be a shit boyfriend who treats his girls awfully-“ “Steve, alone that you’re thinking and worrying about it shows you’re great. Let’s not jump to conclusions…it’s probably a misunderstanding…”, Bucky tried to calm his best friend down.

It didn’t work. Steve started sending one text message after the oh they, but none of them were delivered. Fuck.

They only had a few minutes left and as soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of classes, Steve stormed out of the room.

He drove faster than usually, pretty sure he also missed a red light, before stopping at a flower shop to buy you roses. Roses were good, right? It’s what they always buy in movies.

He felt pathetic. Not even knowing what kind of flowers to buy for a girl. Maybe you were right with ending this…relationship or whatever it was between you two. You had been right about him. He was too young. Just a teenager without any experience in…anything, really. He was still in high school. He never had a job. Barely passed maths…god, he can’t even grow a fucking beard. How could he even think he’d be good enough for you?

Was he stupid for feeling so deeply connected to you? Naive? Was it because you were the first girl he had kissed? The first sex he had? The first…person he ever loved? But you knew all of this. You wouldn’t have used him just for fun, he knew that. So what changed?

Steve looked down at his phone, then back to your building and once again to the messages.

What did I do wrong?

Why are you ending this?

I'm coming to your place so we can talk this through.

Don’t leave me. Please.

Please answer.

Y/N?

Tell what I did wrong. I’ll do better.

I promise.

Is it because of what I said? I didn’t mean to.

I mean, I did mean what I said but I didn’t mean to say it in a rush. I’m sorry.

I’m such an idiot.

Please text me back.

Did something happen?

Are you okay?

Wait…it’s not delivered?

Did you block my number?

Steve wiped away a few stray tears, quickly trying to pull himself together. Just in time for an older man to open the door, Steve quickly left his car and entered after him, walking right to your door.

Taking a deep breath he knocked at your door and waited. His hands sweaty and shaking. His breathing heavy. His vision still blurry from the previous tears. Was he weak for crying? But on the other hand he was in love for the first time. He had his first time with you…just yesterday…maybe you didn’t like how inexperienced he was? Maybe you thought he wouldn’t be good enough with all the…bdsm stuff? That’s what you called it. But he’d learn…why wouldn’t you give him a chance?

Nobody was opening the door, so he knocked again, louder. “He-hey it’s me. Steve. Can we talk?” his voice was trembling, so he tried to clear his throat, only to feel even weaker than before. His hands started shaking even more, the roses rustling against each other, some leaves falling to the floor. “Please open the door…we can talk it out. I’m sorry. Whatever I did to upset you, I’m so sorry”, he mumbled, leaning his forehead against the wood. Still no answer.

After listening for any movement he came to the conclusion you weren’t even home. His head thumbed once again against the door-then he heard a knob turn, but it wasn’t from your door. The older man from before, who apparently was your neighbor, opened her door. "Stop banging on her door! Didn't you do that enough last night? Ugh kids these days..." But seeing Steve’s swollen and red eyes with roses in his hands, he understood something had happened. “Young man, you’re a bit too late to apologise. She packed her belongings and left, not looking back”, the man looked at the heartbroken boy. Behind the thick glasses his gaze softened, while a sob escaped Steve’s throat. “But I didn’t do anything-she-she just sent me a message-didn’t even explain anything-she just left. Just like that”, Steve explained to the guy, not even caring if he was interested in listening or not. He just needed to talk about it.

“Come here, boy. I’ll make you tea and you can tell me what happened.” Steve hesitated for a moment but followed the man in his apartment, feeling incredibly safe around him, even though he was a stranger. “Now sit down at the table. I’ll make some chamomile tea. Call me Stan and who are you boy?”, said Stan, filling the kettle with water. “Steve”, he answered quietly, looking down at the roses in his hand.

Stan held out his hand for them, Steve not thinking twice before giving him these, the older man putting them in a pretty vase. “Maybe she’ll be back. We don’t want the flowers to wilt, don’t we?” Steve shook his head slowly, his shoulders slumped making himself look small.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but she didn’t only left with a suitcase but also with another man…“, Stan said, his voice calm but sympathetic. He patted Steve’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. You’re young. You’ll meet another girl. Or boy. Everything is possible these days. Enjoy your youth as long as you can…besides…aren’t you a bit young to bring this woman flowers?”, asked Stan, curiously but still friendly.

Steve sighed quietly. Was it really that obvious?

“I’m 18…she’s a bit older but I don’t mind. She’s amazing…she…she’s intelligent. And funny. And so good in maths…”, he mumbled, looking down at his steaming tea. “I…I really love her.”

Stan squeezed Steve should, taking his hand from him and drinking from his tea, nodding for Steve to do the same. After a few moments Stan stood up, taking cookies out and putting them on the table. “Have a cookie.” Steve did as told, mouching on the sweets. “Maybe she wasn’t meant for you, Steve. I had met my true love closer to thirty than your age. And maybe it’s just not your time yet. Sometimes we meet people for the sake of meeting and experiencing. Not for them to be a part of our life forever…they’re just in a few chapters and then…disappear. If she treated you like that, she clearly wasn’t a good person. She didn’t care about your feelings. If she did care about you, you’d find a way to be together. Age difference or not, love always finds a way”, Stans words made Steve’s heart ache. The butterflies he usually felt thinking about you made him feel sick. He could puke. He could scream. But all that really happened was more tears leaving his eyes.

With a trembling lip he looked up at Stan.

“So…it’s over?”

While Steve was spending a few hours pouring out his heart to Stan, you were at Jake's place, changing out of your wrinkled office clothes. He was calling his friends to ask about the job offer they had a while ago-and maybe someone had a place for you to stay. At least for a while. Fortunately Aisha's roommates moved out recently, so she immediately offered the room to you. And you took it. You had no other choice…

Or did you? Not if you wanted Steve to have a future. He was intelligent, a really smart and hardworking guy who deserved to go to college…you wouldn’t be the reason why he wouldn’t do it. If it meant you’d have a broken heart…then be it. He’d be happy. Steve was a sweetheart, girls loved him. And he’d find a girl that’s perfect for him. Maybe one, that is his age.

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. Was it noticeable how much older you were compared to Steve? It wasn’t that much…why are you even thinking about it? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was over. You had to accept that.

You had to accept you lost Steve.

Probably the love of your life.

Doesn’t matter.

You’d get over it.

At some point…

Probably…

Maybe…

Or not…

Head shaking you brushed your hair out of your face, your neat hairstyle from when you did it this morning completely messy and tangled. The makeup you wore totally smudged.

You didn’t only look like a mess, you were one. You had no idea what would happen next. Within only a few hours everything had broken apart. Especially your heart.

And even more when you saw the few messages from Steve.

What did I do wrong?

Why are you ending this?

I'm coming to your place so we can talk this through.

Don’t leave me. Please.

Please answer.

Y/N?

Tell what I did wrong. I’ll do better.

I promise.

Then you had blocked him. The few messages broke your heart and you felt awful. Especially since he thought it was his fault. Of course the first thing Steve thought about was being at fault. That he did something wrong…

God, you were an awful human being.

“Are you hungry?”, Jake's voice brought you out of thoughts, making you look back at him. His gaze softened even more seeing your teary eyes. “It’ll be alright”, he whispered, pulling you in the hundreds hug today. Immediately more tears started pouring from your eyes.

“It won’t be, Jake…not without him.”

Next

Thank you for reading!:) I hope you enjoyed reading, the next chapter will be out soon! I think the series till be around 9 (or maybe 10) chapters long!!^^

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