#JESUS AM I REALLY THAT PREDICTABLE

[sunnibits]

I- THESE ARE JUST THE SAME FUCKING MEN. YOU’VE GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

I. I just realized that the two men I’m trying to romance in bg3 are literally just the same men as the two I pursued the most back when I played the arcana.

[unhinged-crow]

<3

[seraqhites]

the paradox of self-awareness 😵‍💫

[pucksandpower]

Pride and Prejudice and Bullets

mafia boss!Max Verstappen x professor!Reader

Summary: your life is predictable — revolving around teaching about Jane Austen novels and grading term papers — and you like it that way … until an old classmate makes a sudden appearance that turns everything upside down

Warnings: minor character death

The sharp rap at the door jolts you from your late-night reading. You glance at the clock — 2:37 AM. Who could it possibly be at this ungodly hour?

Cautiously, you approach the door, peering through the peephole. Your heart skips a beat. Is that ... no, it couldn’t be. But as you swing the door open, there he stands — the boy who vanished from your high school without a trace nearly a decade ago.

“Max?” You breathe, scarcely believing your eyes.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes past you into the apartment, one hand pressed firmly against his side. As he moves, you catch a glimpse of crimson seeping through his fingers, staining what looks like an absurdly expensive shirt.

“Jesus, Max, what happened to you?” You gasp, instinctively reaching out.

He flinches away from your touch, his eyes wild. “I hear you’re a doctor now. Do your doctor stuff,” Max barks the order at you, his voice rough with pain.

You blink, momentarily stunned. “I’m a doctor of British Literature! What are you even doing here? How do you know my address? Why are you here?”

“Needed a doctor, you’re a doctor,” he grunts, stumbling toward your couch.

The reality of the situation starts to sink in. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I need to call an ambulance.”

“No,” Max snaps, his tone brooking no argument. “Don’t. Are you stupid? I’m here because I can’t go to a hospital.”

Your mind races, torn between concern and confusion. “Yes, right, fuck, I should call the cops. Why do you know my address?”

“Wound. Fix it,” he growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Wound. Uhhhh, take off your shirt?” You stammer, fumbling for your phone. “I need to Google this- oh my god that’s disgusting, oh fuck, is the bullet still in there?”

Max’s eyes narrow. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

“Of course I don’t!” You exclaim, your voice rising in pitch. “I write papers on Jane Austen, not ... whatever this is!”

He groans, both from pain and exasperation. “Fine. First aid kit. You have one?”

You nod frantically, dashing to the bathroom. When you return, Max has managed to unbutton his shirt, revealing a nasty wound just below his ribs.

“Okay,” he says, his voice steadier now. “Antiseptic. Clean the wound.”

With shaking hands, you do as he instructs, trying not to gag at the sight of so much blood. “Max, please, what’s going on? How did this happen?”

He ignores your questions. “Tweezers. The bullet’s still in there. You need to get it out.”

“What? No! I can’t — I’ll hurt you!”

A humorless laugh escapes him. “Trust me, it already hurts. Just do it.”

Swallowing hard, you position the tweezers. Max’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist. “Wait,” he says, fumbling in his pocket with his free hand. He produces a flask, takes a long swig, then nods. “Okay. Go.”

You take a deep breath and plunge in. Max’s entire body goes rigid, a string of curses flowing from his lips that would make a sailor blush. After what feels like an eternity, you feel the tweezers catch on something.

“I think I’ve got it,” you whisper.

“Then pull it out,” Max hisses.

With a sickening squelch, you extract the bullet. Max lets out a strangled groan, then goes limp.

“Max?” You say, panic rising in your throat. “Max!”

His eyes flutter open. “I’m fine. Just ... give me a minute.”

As you clean and dress the wound, a tense silence falls between you. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you speak. “Max, please. What’s going on? I haven’t seen you in years, and now you show up at my door in the middle of the night with a bullet wound?”

He sighs, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “It’s ... complicated.”

“No shit,” you retort. “Start talking. Now.”

Max runs a hand through his hair, wincing at the movement. “After I left school, I got mixed up in some ... stuff. Bad stuff. It was supposed to be temporary, just a way to make some quick cash. But things ... escalated.”

“Escalated how?” You press.

He meets your gaze, his eyes hard. “You really want to know?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I run the Dutch Crime Syndicate now,” he says flatly.

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s a high, slightly hysterical sound. “The Dutch Crime Syndicate? Are you serious? That sounds like something out of a bad movie.”

“Does this look like a joke to you?” Max gestures to his wound.

The laughter dies in your throat. “Oh god. You’re serious.”

He nods grimly. “Dead serious. And now you know why I couldn’t go to a hospital. Too many questions.”

“But ... why me?” You ask, still struggling to process this information. “We were barely even friends in school.”

Max shifts uncomfortably. “I ... kept tabs on people from back then. When I heard you’d become a doctor-”

“A doctor of literature,” you interject.

He rolls his eyes. “When I heard you had become a ‘doctor,’ I made a note of it. Just in case. Never thought I’d actually need to use that information, but ... here we are.”

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “This is insane. You’re insane. I should be calling the police right now.”

“But you won’t,” Max says quietly.

“And why’s that?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since he arrived. “Because you’re curious. Because part of you, whether you want to admit it or not, is excited by this. By me showing up and shaking up your nice, safe, predictable life.”

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. He’s not entirely wrong.

“So what happens now?” You ask instead.

Max shrugs, then immediately regrets it, judging by his wince. “Now, I rest for a bit, then I leave. And you go back to your life of Jane Austen and tea cozies.”

“That’s it?” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting? That I’d sweep you off your feet and into a life of crime?”

“No, of course not,” you say quickly. Too quickly.

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well, well. Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye, Y/N.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shut up. You’re delirious from blood loss.”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Or maybe I’m seeing clearly for the first time in years.”

There’s a charged moment of silence between you. Then Max groans, breaking the spell. “God, I sound like a bad romance novel. Must be the whiskey talking.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Well, you did show up bleeding on my doorstep in the middle of the night. It’s all very dramatic.”

“What can I say? I aim to please,” Max quips, then turns serious. “Look, Y/N ... thank you. For helping me. For not calling the cops. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you probably don’t,” you agree. “But ... I’m glad you came. As crazy as this all is, it’s ... nice to see you again.”

Max’s expression softens. “Yeah. It’s nice to see you too.”

Another silence falls, but this one is comfortable, almost companionable. Finally, Max speaks again. “I should go. I’ve already put you in enough danger.”

“Wait,” you say, surprising yourself. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. At least stay until morning.”

He hesitates, clearly torn. “I shouldn’t ...”

“Please,” you insist. “For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

Max searches your face, then nods slowly. “Okay. But just until morning.”

As you help him settle more comfortably on the couch, you can’t shake the feeling that your life has just irrevocably changed. For better or worse remains to be seen, but one thing’s for certain — it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through your curtains, rousing you from a fitful sleep. For a blissful moment, you forget the events of last night. Then reality comes crashing back, and you bolt upright in bed.

Max. The wound. The Dutch Crime Syndicate.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. What were you thinking? In the harsh light of day, the whole situation seems utterly insane.

Steeling yourself, you pad out to the living room. Max is still there, sprawled on your couch, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looks younger in sleep, almost vulnerable. It’s hard to reconcile this image with the hardened criminal he claims to be.

As if sensing your presence, Max’s eyes flutter open. He winces as he tries to sit up.

“Morning,” he grunts.

“How’s the wound?” You ask, your voice carefully neutral.

Max prods at his side gingerly. “Better than it has any right to be, thanks to you.”

You nod, then take a deep breath. “Max, about last night ...”

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. “I know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you agree, relief washing over you. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about this. But I think it’s best if we just ... pretend this never happened. You should go, and we should forget we ever saw each other again.”

Max nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you say firmly, trying to ignore the small part of you that’s screaming in protest.

He starts to gather his things, moving stiffly. You turn away, heading to the kitchen to make coffee, needing something to do with your hands.

That’s when you hear it. The sharp crack of a gunshot, followed by the tinkling of shattered glass.

You freeze, your heart pounding. “Max?” You call out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Get down!” He shouts back. You drop to the floor just as another bullet whizzes overhead, embedding itself in your kitchen cabinets.

Max is at your side in an instant, his earlier stiffness forgotten. “We need to move. Now.”

“What’s happening?” You ask, your voice shaking.

“Rivals,” Max says grimly. “They must have followed me here. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to put you in danger.”

Before you can respond, there’s a thunderous banging at your front door. “Open up!” A gruff voice shouts. “We know you’re in there, Max Emilian!”

Max’s face hardens. “The Silver Arrows,” he mutters. “Persistent bastards.”

“What do we do?” You whisper, panic threatening to overwhelm you.

Max’s eyes dart around the room, assessing. “Is there a fire escape?”

You nod. “Through the bedroom window.”

“Okay,” he says, his voice calm and authoritative. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to make a run for it. Stay low, stay behind me. Got it?”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak.

“On my count,” Max says. “Three ... two ... one ... GO!”

You scramble to your feet, keeping low as Max leads the way to your bedroom. The banging on the door intensifies, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood.

“They’re breaking through!” You gasp.

“Almost there,” Max says through gritted teeth. He throws open your bedroom window, then turns to you. “Ladies first.”

You hesitate for a split second, then clamber out onto the fire escape. The metal is cold beneath your bare feet, and you realize with a start that you’re still in your pajamas.

Max follows close behind, pulling the window shut just as you hear your front door give way.

“Down,” he hisses, guiding you towards the ladder.

You descend as quickly as you can, your hands shaking so badly you nearly lose your grip more than once. Max is right behind you, his presence oddly reassuring despite the circumstances.

As your feet hit the alley below, you hear shouts from above. “There they are!”

“Run!” Max yells, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

You sprint down the alley, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. Bullets ping off the walls around you, and you let out an involuntary scream.

“Keep going,” Max urges. “There’s a car around the corner.”

“A car?” You pant. “How do you know?”

“I always have an exit strategy,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice despite the situation.

Sure enough, as you round the corner, you see a sleek black car idling at the curb. A man in a dark suit is behind the wheel, looking tense.

“Get in!” Max shouts, practically shoving you into the backseat before diving in after you.

The car peels away from the curb before Max even has the door closed. You’re thrown back against the seat as the driver weaves through traffic at breakneck speed.

“What the hell, Max?” You finally manage to say, your heart still racing. “Who were those people? Where are we going?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, looking more rattled than you’ve seen him yet. “Those were the Silver Arrows. They’ve been trying to muscle in on our territory for months. As for where we’re going ...” He exchanges a look with the driver in the rearview mirror. “Somewhere safe. For now.”

You let out a hysterical laugh. “Safe? I don’t even know what that word means anymore. My apartment just got shot up! I’m in my pajamas in the back of a strange car, running from a gang war. This is insane!”

“I know,” Max says softly. “And I’m sorry. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by leaving last night.”

“Well, bang-up job on that one,” you snap.

The driver clears his throat. “Boss, we’ve got a tail. Two cars, about three blocks back.”

Max curses under his breath. “Can you lose them, Daniel?”

The driver — Daniel, apparently — nods grimly. “I can try. Hang on.”

The car suddenly swerves, cutting across three lanes of traffic. Horns blare as Daniel takes a sharp right turn, tires squealing.

You’re thrown against Max, who instinctively wraps an arm around you to keep you steady. Despite everything, you can’t help but notice how solid he feels, how good he smells ...

No. Focus. You shake your head, trying to clear it.

“Max,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I need you to be straight with me. What exactly is going on here?”

He sighs, his arm still around you. “It’s complicated.”

“Un-complicate it,” you demand.

Max is quiet for a moment, seemingly weighing his words. “The Dutch Crime Syndicate ... we’re not just petty criminals. We’re big. International. And lately, we’ve been expanding our reach. The Silver Arrows don’t like that. They think we’re encroaching on their territory.”

“And are you?” You ask.

A ghost of a smile flits across Max’s face. “Maybe a little. But business is business, you know?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re talking about illegal activities like it’s a corporate takeover!”

“In a way, it is,” Max says. “Just with higher stakes.”

“Boss,” Daniel interrupts. “I think we’ve lost them for now, but we can’t go to any of the safe houses. They might be compromised.”

Max nods. “Good thinking. Head for the marina. We’ll take the boat.”

“Boat?” You echo. “Max, I can’t just leave. My job, my life-”

“Your life will be over if the Silver Arrows find you,” Max says bluntly. “You’re involved now, whether you like it or not. I’m sorry, but there’s no going back.”

The gravity of the situation finally hits you. This isn’t some exciting adventure that you can just walk away from. This is real, and it’s dangerous.

“What have you gotten me into, Max?” You whisper.

His arm tightens around you. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promises. “No matter what.”

You want to believe him. Despite everything, despite the insanity of the past twelve hours, you find that you do believe him.

As the car speeds towards the marina, you try to process everything that’s happened. Your quiet life of academia seems like a distant memory now. In its place is ... what? Danger? Excitement? A chance at something you never knew you wanted?

You look at Max, studying his profile. He seems different from the boy you knew in high school. Harder, certainly, but there’s something else too. A confidence, a magnetism that you can’t deny.

As if sensing your gaze, Max turns to look at you. For a moment, the facade of the hardened crime boss slips, and you see a flicker of the boy you once knew.

“I really am sorry about all this,” he says softly. “If I could go back and undo it all, I would.”

“Would you?” You ask, surprised by your own boldness.

Max looks taken aback. “Wouldn’t you want me to?”

You consider this. “I don’t know,” you admit. “This is all terrifying and insane, but ... I’ve never felt more alive.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well, well,” he says, echoing his words from last night. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Y/N.”

Before you can respond, Daniel announces, “We’re here.”

The car pulls up to a private dock where a sleek yacht is moored. Max helps you out of the car, his hand lingering on your lower back.

“Last chance to back out,” he says, his eyes searching your face. “Say the word, and I’ll have Daniel take you back. We’ll figure out a way to keep you safe.”

You look at the yacht, then back at Max. In your mind’s eye, you see your apartment, your job, your safe, predictable life. Then you see bullets flying, feel the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the unknown.

Taking a deep breath, you make your choice.

“Let’s go,” you say, taking Max’s hand and stepping onto the gangplank.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re leaving more than just the city behind. You’re leaving your old self, your old life.

And as terrifying as that is, you can’t wait to see what comes next.

***

As the yacht cuts through the waves, you find yourself standing at the stern, watching the city skyline grow smaller by the minute. The reality of your situation is starting to sink in, bringing with it a cocktail of emotions — fear, excitement, and a nagging curiosity that won’t let you rest.

You turn to find Max leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. There’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before, a reminder that you’re not the only one affected by this sudden turn of events.

“Max,” you say, breaking the silence. “Why did you really pick me?”

He glances at you, a flicker of something crossing his face before his expression settles back into careful neutrality. “The doctor part, obviously ...”

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there’s more to it. Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“And you have no one who would miss you,” he continues, his voice softer now. “No contact with family and, as far as I’m concerned, no friends who would notice.”

Your heart sinks at his words, partly because of the stark truth in them, and partly because of the implications. “Notice ... oh fuck, you’re gonna kill me?”

Max’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in what looks like genuine offense. “No. That’s a last resort, too many questions. You’re on my boat now, aren’t you?”

You let out a shaky breath, not sure whether to feel relieved or more worried. “So what then? Am I your hostage? Your accomplice? What exactly is my role in this mess?”

Max pushes off from the railing, moving closer to you. “Right now? You’re under my protection. Beyond that ... I guess we’ll have to figure it out as we go.”

“Figure it out?” You repeat incredulously. “Max, I left everything behind. My job, my apartment, my entire life. I need more than ‘we’ll figure it out.’”

He has the decency to look chagrined. “You’re right. You deserve answers. But right now, our priority has to be getting somewhere safe.”

“And where exactly is that?” You press.

Max glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before leaning in closer. “We’re headed to Monaco.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Monaco? As in, the luxury resort town on the French Riviera?”

He nods, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “The very same. I have an ... associate there who can help us.”

“An associate,” you echo skeptically. “Another crime lord, I assume?”

Max’s smile widens. “Something like that. His name is Charles. He’s the heir to the Rosso Corsa Mafia.”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally getting to you. “The Rosso Corsa Mafia? Seriously? What is this, some kind of international crime syndicate convention?”

“Hey, networking is important in any business,” Max quips, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

For a moment, you’re both laughing, the tension of the past few hours dissipating slightly. But as the laughter fades, reality sets in once more.

“Max,” you say, your voice quiet now. “What am I doing here? Really?”

He sobers, his gaze intense as he looks at you. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. When I came to your apartment last night, I was just looking for help. I didn’t plan for any of this.”

“But you must have had some idea,” you press. “You said you kept tabs on me. Why?”

Max is quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching your face. Finally, he speaks. “Do you remember our last day of school together? Before I ... left?”

You furrow your brow, thinking back. “Vaguely. It was just an ordinary day, wasn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “Not for me. That was the day I decided to leave. I was in the library, trying to figure out how I was going to tell my parents I wanted to drop out. And then you came in.”

“I did?” You ask, surprised. You have no memory of this.

Max nods. “You were returning a stack of books. You looked ... happy. Excited about your future. I remember thinking how different we were. How I’d never have that kind of certainty, that sense of purpose.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. “So... what? You’ve been keeping an eye on me out of some kind of twisted nostalgia?”

He winces. “When you put it like that, it sounds creepy. I just ... I guess I wanted to know that someone from our old life made it. That it was possible to be normal and happy.”

“And now you’ve dragged me into your world,” you say, a hint of bitterness in your voice.

Max looks stricken. “I never meant for this to happen. If I could go back-”

“But you can’t,” you interrupt. “We’re here now. So what happens next?”

Before Max can answer, a crew member approaches. “Sir, we’ve just received word from Monaco. Mr. Leclerc is expecting us.”

Max nods. “Thank you, Rupert. Tell the captain to push the engines. I want to make it there before nightfall.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is insane. You know that, right? This whole situation is completely insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” Max says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “It’s not too late to back out, you know. Say the word, and I’ll have the captain turn this boat around.”

You consider it for a moment. Your old life seems so far away already, like a half-remembered dream. And despite the danger, despite the uncertainty, you can’t deny the thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

“No,” you say finally. “I’m in this now. For better or worse.”

Max’s expression softens. “I promise you, Y/N, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

As you stand there, the salt spray on your face and the wind in your hair, you find yourself believing him. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, but you trust him.

The next few hours pass in a blur of activity. Max is constantly on his phone, speaking in hushed tones in what sounds like a mix of Dutch and French. You catch snippets about “security measures” and “clean identities,” but most of it goes over your head.

As the sun begins to set, casting the sea in shades of gold and pink, you find yourself back at the stern of the yacht. The coastline has long since disappeared, leaving nothing but endless ocean in every direction.

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Max approaching, two glasses of champagne in hand.

“I thought we could use a drink,” he says, offering you a glass. “To new beginnings?”

You take the glass, clinking it gently against his. “To new beginnings,” you echo, taking a sip. The champagne is exquisite, of course. You wouldn’t expect anything less from a mob boss’s yacht.

“We should be arriving in Monaco in a few hours,” Max says, leaning against the railing beside you. “Charles has arranged for a car to meet us at the marina. We’ll be staying at his family’s villa in the hills.”

You nod, trying to process this information. “And then what?”

Max shrugs. “We lie low for a while. Figure out our next move. The Silver Arrows won’t give up easily, but they’ll have a hard time touching us in Monaco. The Leclercs practically own the place.”

“And where do I fit into all this?” You ask, voicing the question that’s been nagging at you since you stepped onto this boat.

Max turns to face you fully, his expression serious. “That’s up to you, Y/N. I won’t force you into anything. If you want to walk away once we’re in Monaco, I’ll make sure you have the means to do so safely.”

You consider this. The sensible thing would be to take the out he’s offering. Go back to your life of books and lectures and quiet evenings alone. But the thought leaves you feeling ... empty.

“And if I don’t want to walk away?” You ask, surprised by your own boldness.

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Then I suppose we’ll have to find a place for you in this brave new world of ours.”

As you stand there, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the waves, you can’t help but feel like you’re on the cusp of something momentous. Your old life is behind you now, growing more distant with every passing moment. Ahead lies uncertainty, danger ... and possibility.

You take another sip of champagne, savoring the bubbles on your tongue. Whatever comes next, you realize, you’re ready for it. Ready for the adventure, the risk, the chance to reinvent yourself.

As the yacht cuts through the darkening waters, carrying you towards a future you never could have imagined, you find yourself smiling. For the first time in years, maybe for the first time ever, you feel truly, exhilaratingly alive.

***

The yacht glides smoothly into the marina, the lights of Monaco twinkling like a galaxy of stars against the night sky. You stand at the railing, taking in the sight of luxury yachts and sleek speedboats bobbing gently in their berths. It’s a world away from your modest apartment back home.

Max appears at your side, his face tense. “Remember,” he murmurs, “stay close to me and don’t say anything unless you’re directly addressed. Charles is an ally, but he can be ... unpredictable.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The reality of your situation is sinking in again, the brief respite of the boat ride fading away.

As the crew secures the yacht, a figure emerges from the shadows of the dock. Even in the dim light, you can tell he’s striking — all lean muscles and sharp cheekbones, with piercing green eyes that seem to take in everything at once.

“Max,” he says, his accent a mix of French and something you can’t quite place. “You’ve brought trouble to my doorstep again, I see.”

Max steps forward, clasping the man’s hand. “Charles. Thank you for this. I owe you one.”

Charles’ lips quirk up in a half-smile. “Add it to your tab, my friend.” His gaze shifts to you, curiosity evident in his expression. “And who might this be?”

Before Max can answer, Charles is already moving towards you, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips in a smooth motion. “Enchanté, mademoiselle. I am Charles Leclerc.”

You stammer out your name, caught off guard by his Old World charm. Charles’ eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Adorable,” he says. “Now, shall we? It’s not wise to linger here.”

With that, he turns on his heel and strides towards the parking lot. Max gives you a gentle push, urging you to follow.

As you round the corner, your jaw drops. Sitting there, gleaming under the streetlights, is quite possibly the most ostentatious Ferrari you’ve ever seen. It’s matte black with an eye-catching racing stripe in the colors of the Monegasque flag, and sleek lines that practically scream speed and luxury.

Charles is already sliding into the driver’s seat, while Max ushers you into the back. As the engine roars to life, a thought occurs to you.

“Is this a kidnapping?” You blurt out, your nerves finally getting the better of you.

Charles catches your eye in the rearview mirror, a smirk playing on his lips. “You seem very willing for one.”

Your cheeks flush. “That doesn’t calm my nerves!”

“It is like this,” Charles sighs, accelerating smoothly as he maneuvers through the narrow streets of Monaco. “Do as Max says or we dump your body.”

“What!” You exclaim, your heart rate spiking.

Max shoots Charles a glare. “Charles, do not scare her more than necessary. The poor girl is already terrified.”

Charles shrugs, not taking his eyes off the road as he takes a sharp turn that has you clutching the seat. “I merely state facts, mon ami. Our world is not for the faint of heart.”

You look to Max, seeking reassurance. He meets your gaze, his expression softening slightly. “Ignore him. You’re under my protection, remember?”

“And what exactly does that mean?” You press, emboldened by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I still don’t understand my role in all this.”

Max hesitates, glancing at Charles. The two seem to have a silent conversation before Charles speaks up.

“You, ma chèrie, are an unexpected variable,” he says, his tone lighter now. “Max has a habit of collecting strays, but you ... you’re different.”

“Different how?” You ask, not sure if you should be offended or intrigued.

Charles’ eyes meet yours in the mirror again, a glint of mischief in them. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? But I suspect you’re made of sterner stuff than you let on.”

The car falls silent as you process this. The streets of Monaco fly by outside the window, a blur of high-end boutiques and lavish casinos. It’s like stepping into another world.

Finally, the Ferrari begins to climb, winding its way up into the hills overlooking the city. The road narrows, becoming more secluded, until you’re passing through an ornate gate flanked by high walls.

The car comes to a stop in front of a sprawling villa that looks like something out of a movie. Marble columns, manicured gardens, a fountain bubbling gently in the courtyard — it’s almost too much to take in.

As you step out of the car on shaky legs, Charles is already striding towards the entrance. “Welcome to Casa Leclerc,” he calls over his shoulder. “Try not to break anything irreplaceable.”

Max appears at your side, placing a steadying hand on your lower back. “You okay?” He asks quietly.

You nod, not trusting your voice. Max guides you inside, where you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the interior. Priceless artwork adorns the walls, and you’re pretty sure that’s an actual Fabergé egg sitting casually on a side table.

Charles leads you to a spacious living room, gesturing for you to sit. As you sink into a plush armchair, he busies himself at a well-stocked bar.

“Drink?” He offers. “I imagine you could use one.”

You nod gratefully, and soon find yourself nursing a glass of what’s probably the most expensive cognac you’ve ever tasted.

Charles settles into a chair across from you, swirling his own drink thoughtfully. “Now then,” he says, his tone suddenly all business. “Perhaps it’s time we discussed the situation at hand.”

Max, who’s been pacing near the windows, turns to face the room. “The Silver Arrows are getting bolder. This attack ... it’s a clear escalation.”

Charles nods grimly. “They sense weakness. Your recent expansion has left you vulnerable, mon ami.”

You listen, feeling increasingly out of your depth as they discuss territories, alliances, and what sound like complex financial maneuvers. It’s like overhearing a board meeting for the world’s most dangerous corporation.

Finally, unable to contain yourself any longer, you speak up. “I’m sorry, but what exactly am I doing here? I’m not a part of ... whatever this is.”

Both men turn to look at you, as if suddenly remembering your presence. Charles raises an eyebrow at Max. “Yes, do tell. What is your plan for our unexpected guest?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’re starting to recognize as a sign of frustration. “I didn’t have a plan. It all happened so fast, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“How gallant,” Charles drawls, though there’s a hint of genuine amusement in his voice. “But now we must decide what to do with her. She knows too much to simply let go.”

Your grip tightens on your glass. “I won’t say anything. I swear. Just ... let me go home.”

Max’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s not that simple, Y/N. The Silver Arrows saw you with me. They’ll assume you’re involved, whether you are or not.”

“So what then?” You ask, frustration bleeding into your voice. “Am I your prisoner now?”

“Non, ma chèrie,” Charles interjects smoothly. “Think of yourself as ... a valued guest. Under our protection.”

You laugh bitterly. “Some protection. I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and threatened with bodily harm in the span of 48 hours.”

To your surprise, Charles actually looks chagrined. “Ah, yes. My apologies for that. I have a flair for the dramatic, you see.”

“What Charles is trying to say,” Max cuts in, shooting his friend a warning look, “is that you have options. We can set you up with a new identity, somewhere far from here. Or ...”

He trails off, and you find yourself leaning forward despite yourself. “Or what?”

Max and Charles exchange another of those loaded glances before Max continues. “Or you could stay. Become a part of this.”

You blink, sure you must have misheard. “Become a part of ... your crime syndicate? Are you insane?”

Charles chuckles. “Now you’re catching on, chérie. We’re all a little mad here.”

You shake your head, trying to clear it. The cognac isn’t helping. “I’m not a criminal. I’m a literature professor, for god’s sake!”

“And yet,” Charles muses, leaning forward, “here you are. You could have called the police at any point. You could have refused to get on that yacht. But you didn’t. Why is that, I wonder?”

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. He’s not wrong. Despite the fear, despite the danger, there’s a part of you that’s been thrilled by all of this. A part that’s been longing for something more than your quiet, predictable life.

Max kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And I’m not asking you to decide right now. But I want you to know that if you choose to stay, we’ll teach you everything you need to know. You’ll be protected, valued. Part of something bigger than yourself.”

You look into his eyes, searching for ... you’re not sure what. Deception? Ulterior motives? But all you see is sincerity, and something else. Something that makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I ... I need time to think,” you manage to say.

Charles claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Excellent idea. A good night’s sleep will do wonders for clarity of thought. Allow me to show you to your room.”

As you follow Charles up a sweeping staircase, your mind is whirling. Two days ago, your biggest concern was finishing grading papers on Jane Austen. Now, you’re being offered a place in an international crime syndicate.

It’s absurd.

It’s terrifying.

And yet ...

Charles stops in front of an ornate door. “Your quarters, mademoiselle. I trust you’ll find everything to your liking. We can discuss more in the morning.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help but call out. “Charles?”

He pauses, looking back at you with those piercing eyes. “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this? Helping Max, offering me a place here? What’s in it for you?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling about you, Y/N. You might be exactly what our little organizations need.”

With that cryptic statement, he’s gone, leaving you alone in a luxurious bedroom that probably costs more than your entire apartment back home.

As you sink onto the plush bed, your head spinning from more than just the alcohol, you can’t help but wonder: what would Jane Austen make of all this? Somehow, you don’t think even she could have imagined a plot twist quite like this one.

***

The morning sun filters through the luxurious curtains, rousing you from a surprisingly deep sleep. For a moment, you’re disoriented, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to your cozy little apartment back home. Then the events of the past day come rushing back, and with them, a sudden clarity.

You sit up, your mind made up. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, but you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. You’re staying.

After a quick shower and change into clothes that have mysteriously appeared in the wardrobe (and fit perfectly, which you decide not to question), you make your way downstairs. The villa is quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

You follow the sound, finding Max nursing a cup of coffee at a marble island. He looks up as you enter, his expression guarded.

“Morning,” he says cautiously. “Sleep well?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I’ve made a decision.”

He sets down his cup, giving you his full attention. “Oh?”

“I’m staying,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I want to be a part of this. Of your world.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident on his face. “Are you sure? This isn’t a decision to be made lightly, Y/N. Once you’re in, there’s no going back.”

You meet his gaze, unflinching. “I’m sure. My old life ... it never felt right. Like I was just going through the motions. But this? As terrifying as it is, it feels real. It feels right.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face, transforming his features. “Well then,” he says, standing up. “I guess we better start your training.”

“Training?” You echo.

Max nods, his expression turning serious. “If you’re going to survive in this world, you need to learn how to protect yourself. First lesson: shooting.”

Your eyes widen. “Shooting? As in, guns?”

“No, we’re going to teach you competitive archery,” Max deadpans. “Of course guns. Come on, Charles has a range in the basement.”

As you follow Max through the winding corridors of the villa, your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This is really happening.

The shooting range is state-of-the-art, with multiple lanes and an impressive array of weapons displayed on the walls. Max selects a handgun, checking it over with practiced ease.

“We’ll start with something simple,” he says, holding out the gun. “A Glock 19. Easy to handle, reliable.”

You take the weapon gingerly, surprised by its weight. Max positions himself behind you, adjusting your stance and grip.

“Remember,” he says, his breath warm against your ear, “breathe steadily. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

You nod, trying to focus on the target at the end of the range rather than the heat of Max’s body behind you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs, stepping back.

You take a deep breath, aim, and pull the trigger. The gun goes off with a deafening bang, and you can’t help but let out a surprised scream.

Max tuts, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, it will give you away.”

You turn to him, incredulous. “Like the loud noise wouldn’t? I shot a gun!”

“And missed,” Max points out, nodding towards the untouched target. “Now go again.”

Gritting your teeth, you face the target once more. This time, you’re prepared for the noise and the recoil. You squeeze the trigger, and to your surprise, the bullet hits the outer ring of the target.

“Better,” Max says, a note of approval in his voice. “Again.”

As the morning wears on, you find yourself falling into a rhythm. Aim, breathe, squeeze. The shots become more accurate, your stance more confident. Max is a patient teacher, offering guidance and correction with a gentle touch here, a murmured word there.

“You’re a natural,” he says after a particularly good round. “Must be all those Jane Austen novels. Secret badass under all that propriety.”

You laugh, lowering the gun. “I don’t think Lizzy Bennet ever handled a Glock.”

“Her loss,” Max grins. “One more round?”

You nod, raising the gun once more. As you fire off the last few shots, you’re aware of Max’s gaze on you, more intense than before. The final bullet hits dead center, and you turn to him with a triumphant smile.

“How was that?” You ask, breathless with exhilaration.

Max doesn’t answer immediately. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher — admiration, certainly, but something else too. Something that makes your pulse quicken.

“Max?” You prompt, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

In one fluid motion, Max closes the distance between you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks through your entire body. You respond instinctively, your free hand fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. The gun clatters to the floor, forgotten.

Max backs you up against the wall of the shooting range, his body pressing against yours. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you opened your door that night,” Max admits, his forehead resting against yours.

You laugh breathlessly. “Even with me in my ratty pajamas?”

“Especially then,” he grins. “You were adorably flustered. And then you went and patched me up without hesitation. I was a goner.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is insane, you know that? A few days ago I was grading papers on 19th-century classic literature. Now I’m making out with a crime lord in a secret shooting range.”

Max’s expression turns serious. “Is it too much? We can slow down, or-”

You cut him off with another kiss. “No,” you say firmly. “It’s not too much. It’s ... exactly right.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well then, doctor. Ready for your next lesson?”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

Max’s grin turns wicked. “I was thinking something in the realm of close combat. Very hands-on.”

You laugh, a thrill of excitement running through you. “Lead the way.”

As Max takes your hand, leading you out of the shooting range, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. It’s dangerous, it’s completely illogical, and yet ... you’ve never felt more alive.

Whatever comes next, you’re ready for it. With a gun in your hand and Max by your side, you feel like you could take on the world. And who knows? Maybe you will.

***

As Max leads you out of the shooting range, there’s a palpable tension in the air, crackling with unspoken promises. You follow him through the winding corridors of Charles’ villa, your heart racing with anticipation.

“So,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “where exactly are we going for this close combat training?”

Max glances back at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I thought we’d use the gym. Plenty of space, padded floors ... you know, for safety.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Safety, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. “Y/N, if this is moving too fast-”

You cut him off, stepping closer. “Max, I literally left my entire life behind for you. I think we’re well past too fast.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Fair point. Still, if at any point you want to stop-”

“I’ll let you know,” you assure him. “Now, are you going to show me these close combat moves or what?”

Max’s grin turns predatory. “Oh, I’ll show you alright.”

He pushes open a door, revealing a state-of-the-art gym. The space is impressive, with gleaming equipment and, as promised, a large area covered in training mats.

“Shall we?” Max asks, gesturing to the mats.

You nod, suddenly feeling a bit nervous despite your bravado. As you step onto the mat, Max begins circling you slowly.

“The key to close combat,” he says, his voice low and intense, “is to always be aware of your opponent’s movements. To anticipate their next move.”

You turn, keeping him in your sight. “And how do I do that?”

In a flash, Max is behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “By staying alert,” he murmurs in your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine at his proximity. “I thought I was doing pretty well,” you manage to say.

You can feel Max’s chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Not bad. But you’re still too tense. You need to relax, feel the flow of movement.”

His hands slide up your arms, gently adjusting your posture. You lean back into him, relishing the warmth of his body.

“Like this?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max’s grip tightens slightly. “Getting there. Now, if someone grabs you like this, what do you do?”

You consider for a moment, then make your move. You twist in his arms, using the momentum to break his hold and face him. “How’s that?”

Max looks impressed. “Not bad at all. You’re a quick learner.”

“I have a good teacher,” you reply, a bit breathless from the maneuver and his proximity.

For a moment, you stand there, faces inches apart, the air heavy with tension. Then Max moves, swift and sure, sweeping your legs out from under you. You land on the mat with a soft thud, Max following you down, pinning you beneath him.

“Rule number one,” he says, his face hovering above yours, “never let your guard down.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what’s rule number two?”

Instead of answering, Max lowers his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You respond eagerly, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily. “I think I like rule number two,” you say with a grin.

Max laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, we’re just getting started with the rules, doctor.”

He leans in for another kiss, but this time you’re ready. Using the moves he just taught you, you manage to flip your positions, straddling his waist triumphantly.

“How’s that for staying alert?” You ask, feeling a thrill at the surprised and appreciative look on Max’s face.

“Impressive,” he says, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “But you’ve left yourself open.”

Before you can ask what he means, Max surges upward, capturing your lips once more. As you lose yourself in the kiss, you feel him shift, and suddenly you’re on your back again, Max looming over you with a satisfied smirk.

“Distraction,” he says, “can be a powerful weapon.”

You laugh, breathless and exhilarated. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any other lessons you want to teach me?”

Max’s eyes darken. “Oh, I’ve got plenty more to teach you. If you’re up for it.”

You reach up, pulling him down to you. “I’m a very dedicated student,” you murmur against his lips.

What follows is less a lesson in combat and more an exploration of each other. Clothes are discarded, hands roam freely, and the only sounds in the gym are gasps, moans, and occasional laughter.

Later, as you lie tangled together on the training mats, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. Just days ago, you were grading papers in your quiet apartment. Now, you’re in the arms of a mob boss, in a luxurious villa in Monaco, having just had the most exhilarating experience of your life.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Max asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin.

You turn to face him, propping yourself up on an elbow. “Just thinking about how surreal this all is. A week ago, the most exciting thing in my life was finding a rare first edition at an antique book fair.”

Max chuckles. “And now?”

“Now?” You grin. “Now I’m learning to shoot, engaging in ‘close combat training’, and apparently joining an international crime syndicate. It’s ... a lot.”

His expression turns serious. “Is it too much? It’s too late to back out now, you know. I could have set you up somewhere safe, given you a new identity earlier, but now-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Max, I meant what I said earlier. I’m in this. All of it. With you.”

The smile that spreads across his face is radiant. “Good,” he says, pulling you closer. “Because I don’t think I could let you go now if I tried.”

You settle into his embrace, feeling safer than you have in years despite the objective danger of your situation. “So, what’s next on the criminal training agenda?” You ask, only half-joking.

Max pretends to consider. “Well, we’ve covered shooting and hand-to-hand combat. How do you feel about safecracking?”

You laugh. “Safecracking? Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s a valuable skill in our line of work,” Max defends, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically. “And I suppose pickpocketing is next on the list?”

Max grins. “Now that you mention it ...”

You swat his chest playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he points out, capturing your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Here I am,” you agree softly. “So, what happens now? Do we stay here in Monaco? Go back to face the Silver Arrows?”

Max’s expression turns thoughtful. “For now, we stay here. You need more training before we can risk going back. And I need to regroup, strategize.”

You nod, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “So I get to play princess in a Monaco villa while learning the finer points of criminality? I think I can handle that.”

“It won’t all be fun and games,” Max warns. “The Silver Arrows are still out there, and they’re not going to give up easily. We need to be prepared for anything.”

“I know,” you say, your tone turning serious. “I understand the risks. I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

He studies your face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nods. “Alright then. Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

***

The Monaco sun beats down relentlessly as you step out of yet another luxury boutique, arms laden with shopping bags. Oscar and Lando, your assigned bodyguards, trail behind you, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

“I think that’s the last one,” you say, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. “Who knew shopping could be so exhilarating?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “I think the exhilaration comes from Max finally letting you out of the villa, not the shopping itself.”

You laugh, conceding the point. “True. I never thought I’d be so happy to see the inside of a Gucci store.”

Lando grins. “Just wait until Max sees the bill. That’ll be truly exhilarating.”

As you make your way towards the parked Ferrari, you can’t help but reflect on the past few weeks. The intensive training, the late-night strategy sessions with Max and Charles, the growing feeling that you’re part of something bigger than yourself. It’s been thrilling, but also claustrophobic at times.

“I still can’t believe Max agreed to this little excursion,” you muse as you reach the car.

Oscar shrugs, opening the trunk. “You can be very persuasive when you want to be. Those puppy eyes of yours should be classified as a weapon.”

You’re about to retort when a sudden movement catches your eye. Before you can react, the air is filled with the deafening sound of gunfire.

“Get down!” Lando shouts, pushing you behind the car as he and Oscar draw their weapons.

Your heart pounds as you crouch behind the meager cover, the sounds of a firefight erupting around you. This isn’t like the controlled environment of the shooting range. This is real, chaotic, and terrifying.

“Y/N, stay down!” Oscar yells over the din, returning fire at unseen assailants.

You nod, too shocked to speak. But as you huddle there, a horrifying realization hits you — you recognize some of the voices shouting orders.

The Silver Arrows. They’ve found you.

Suddenly, a strong arm wraps around your waist, yanking you up and away from the car. You struggle instinctively, but your captor’s grip is like iron.

“Well, well,” a deep voice rumbles in your ear. “What do we have here? Max’s new pet, I presume?”

You crane your neck, looking up into a face you’ve seen before — in photographs, in briefings. Toto Wolff, leader of the Silver Arrows himself.

“Let me go,” you growl, trying to sound braver than you feel.

Toto chuckles, the sound devoid of humor. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my dear. You see, you’re my ticket to bringing Max to his knees.”

As he speaks, you become acutely aware of the weight on your thigh. The gun. The one Max insisted you carry, “just in case.” This, you realize with startling clarity, is that case.

Moving as subtly as you can, you reach for the holster strapped to your leg. Toto, focused on the fight around you, doesn’t notice.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say, stalling for time as your fingers close around the grip of the gun. “There are other ways to resolve conflicts.”

Toto’s laugh is harsh. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t understand our world. This isn’t a negotiation, it’s war.”

You take a deep breath, Max’s training echoing in your mind. Stay calm. Aim true. Squeeze, don’t pull.

“You’re right,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I don’t understand your world.”

In one fluid motion, you pull the gun free and twist in Toto’s grip. Before he can react, you press the muzzle against his chest and pull the trigger.

The gunshot seems impossibly loud, even amidst the chaos of the firefight. Toto’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on you loosening as he stumbles backward.

For a moment, everything seems to freeze. Then, chaos erupts anew.

“Boss!” Someone shouts, and suddenly you’re being pulled away, strong arms encircling you protectively.

“I’ve got you,” Oscar’s voice says in your ear. “We’re getting out of here.”

As he hustles you towards the car, you catch glimpses of the scene around you. Silver Arrow members rushing to their fallen leader. Lando providing cover fire. And blood. So much blood.

Oscar practically throws you into the backseat of the Ferrari before jumping into the driver’s seat. Lando dives in barely a second later, and then you’re peeling away from the curb, tires screeching.

“Are you hurt?” Lando asks, twisting in his seat to look at you.

You shake your head, still too shocked to speak. The gun is still clutched in your hand, and you stare at it as if seeing it for the first time.

“You did good, Y/N,” Oscar says, his eyes flicking to you in the rearview mirror. “You kept your cool. That’s not easy in a situation like that.”

“I ... I shot him,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Toto Wolff. I shot him.”

Lando and Oscar exchange a glance. “You did what you had to do,” Lando says gently. “He would have killed you without hesitation.”

As the adrenaline begins to fade, the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. You’ve just shot one of the most powerful crime lords in Europe. In broad daylight. In the middle of Monte Carlo.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “Max is going to kill me.”

Oscar lets out a surprised laugh. “Are you kidding? He’s going to be thrilled. You just took out his biggest rival.”

“Took out?” You repeat, a new wave of panic washing over you. “You mean he’s ...”

“We don’t know for sure,” Lando says quickly. “But a point-blank shot like that ... it doesn’t look good for Toto.”

You close your eyes, trying to process everything. Just hours ago, your biggest concern was whether to buy the Prada or the Fendi handbag. Now, you might have just assassinated a mob boss.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the villa, where Max is already waiting, his face a mask of concern and anger.

As soon as the car stops, he yanks open your door, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “Are you okay?” He demands, his hands roaming over you as if checking for injuries. “When I got the call, I thought ...”

You cling to him, the familiar scent of his cologne grounding you. “I’m okay,” you assure him. “I’m okay.”

Max pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “What happened? Oscar said there was a firefight.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “The Silver Arrows ambushed us. And Toto ... he grabbed me. I ... I shot him, Max. With the gun you gave me.”

For a moment, Max just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, a slow smile spreads across his face. “You shot Toto Wolff?”

You nod, still unsure of his reaction. “I think ... I think I might have killed him.”

Max’s smile widens into a full-blown grin. “Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You’ve single-handedly changed the balance of power in our world.”

“I have?” You ask, feeling slightly dazed.

He nods, pulling you close again. “You’re incredible, you know that? I knew you were special from the moment I showed up at your door, but this ... this is beyond anything I could have imagined.”

As Max leads you into the villa, his arm protectively around your waist, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. From literature professor to potential assassin in a matter of weeks. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, and completely surreal.

“What happens now?” You ask as Max guides you to the study, where Charles is already waiting, phone in hand.

Max exchanges a look with Charles before turning back to you. “Now? Now we prepare for war. The Silver Arrows won’t take this lying down, Toto dead or alive. But with you by my side ...” He trails off, a fierce pride in his eyes.

“You can be unstoppable,” Charles finishes, raising his glass in a toast.

As you sink into a chair, the events of the day finally catching up with you, you realize that this is your life now. Gunfights and power plays, luxury shopping sprees and criminal empires. It’s a far cry from grading papers on Jane Austen, but as you look at Max, seeing the mix of pride, concern, and love in his eyes, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The war may be just beginning, but with Max by your side and a newfound confidence in your abilities, you’re ready to face whatever comes next. After all, you’ve already taken down Toto Wolff. What’s a little inter-syndicate warfare compared to that?

***

Five Years Later

The small apartment buzzes with the energy of five recent college graduates, sprawled across mismatched furniture in various states of relaxation. Empty pizza boxes and half-empty wine bottles litter the coffee table, evidence of their Friday night catch-up session.

“Alright, alright,” Emily says, reaching for her phone. “What should we put on for background noise? Music? TV?”

Jake, lounging on the worn leather armchair, perks up. “Oh! What about that true crime podcast I was telling you guys about? The one about modern mobs?”

Zoe, curled up on the couch, raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Isn’t that a bit heavy for a chill hangout?”

“No, no, it’s fascinating!” Jake insists. “It’s not just gruesome stuff. It’s all about the economics and politics of modern organized crime. Super interesting.”

Lisa, sitting cross-legged on the floor, shrugs. “I’m game. Could be fun to learn something while we drink.”

“Seconded,” chimes in Alex from his spot by the window. “Hit play, Em.”

Emily fiddles with her phone, connecting it to the bluetooth speaker. “Alright, here we go. ‘The Mob in the Modern Age: Episode 7 — The Dutch Syndicate’s Rise to Power.’”

As the podcast’s intro music fades, a smooth, professional voice fills the room:

“In the world of organized crime, power shifts can happen in the blink of an eye. But few have been as sudden or as dramatic as the meteoric rise of the Dutch Crime Syndicate over the past five years. Once a minor player on the European stage, the Dutch Syndicate now controls vast swathes of territory and influences everything from high finance to international politics. But how did this happen? The answer, dear listeners, lies in an unlikely source: a literature professor turned criminal mastermind.”

The friends exchange amused glances. “A literature professor?” Zoe snorts. “Now that’s a career change.”

“Shh,” Jake hushes her, leaning forward intently.

The podcast continues: “It all began with a chance encounter. The Syndicate’s boss, known only as Max Emilian, was injured in a firefight with rival gang members. Desperate for medical attention but unable to go to a hospital, he turned up on the doorstep of a young literature professor in the middle of the night.”

Emily pauses the podcast. “Okay, this sounds like the plot of a bad romance novel.”

“I know, right?” Lisa laughs. “What are the odds?”

Alex shakes his head, grinning. “Maybe our old prof is secretly living it up as a mob wife somewhere.”

The group erupts into laughter at the absurd image.

“Can you imagine?” Zoe gasps between giggles. “Professor Y/L/N in a shootout?”

Jake wipes tears from his eyes. “God, remember how she used to get flustered just operating the projector?”

As the laughter dies down, Emily resumes the podcast.

“What happened next is the stuff of legend in criminal circles. The professor, whose name we now know to be Y/N Y/L/N, not only patched up the crime boss but ended up joining his organization. Within weeks, she had become his right-hand woman and romantic partner.”

The room falls silent, the friends exchanging wide-eyed looks.

“No way,” Alex breathes.

“It can’t be,” Lisa shakes her head. “It’s got to be a coincidence.”

Jake holds up a hand, shushing them as the podcast continues.

“But Y/N’s true moment of infamy came just a month into her new life of crime. During what should have been a routine shopping trip in Monte Carlo, she and her bodyguards were ambushed by members of the rival Silver Arrows gang. In the ensuing chaos, Y/N found herself face to face with none other than Toto Wolff, the notorious leader of the Silver Arrows.”

“Oh my god,” Zoe whispers, her face pale.

“What happened next would change the landscape of European organized crime forever. Y/N, using a gun given to her by Max for protection, shot Toto Wolff at point-blank range. Wolff did not survive the encounter, his death throwing the Silver Arrows into disarray.”

Emily pauses the podcast again, her hand shaking slightly. “Guys ... this can’t actually be our Professor Y/L/N, right? I mean, it’s impossible.”

The room is silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought.

“Remember how she just ... disappeared?” Alex says slowly. “In the middle of the semester? The department said it was a family emergency, but no one ever heard from her again.”

Jake nods, his brow furrowed. “And it was right around the time this podcast is talking about. Five years ago, give or take.”

Lisa shakes her head vehemently. “No. No way. Our Y/N? The one who cried when we threw her a surprise party for finishing her PhD? There’s no way she shot someone.”

“But think about it,” Zoe says, warming to the idea. “She was always talking about how literature reflects real life, how the best stories come from unexpected places. What if ... what if she decided to live a story instead of just teaching about them?”

The group falls silent again, each of them trying to reconcile the image of their soft-spoken, cardigan-wearing professor with the gun-toting criminal mastermind described in the podcast.

Emily takes a deep breath. “Should we ... should we listen to the rest?”

After a moment of hesitation, they all nod. She presses play:

“In the years since that fateful day in Monte Carlo, Y/N has become a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Known in criminal circles as ‘The Professor,’ she’s rumored to be the strategic mind behind the Dutch Syndicate’s most daring and successful operations. Her background in literature and analysis has proven unexpectedly valuable in the world of organized crime, allowing her to see patterns and opportunities that others miss.”

Jake lets out a low whistle. “Okay, that part I can actually see. Remember how she could break down a text? Find connections no one else saw?”

The others nod, still looking shell-shocked.

The podcast continues: “Last year, Y/N and Max officially tied the knot in what insiders describe as the criminal event of the decade. The guest list reportedly included high-ranking members of various international syndicates, as well as several politicians and business moguls whose connections to the underworld had previously been only rumored.”

“A mob wedding,” Alex says faintly. “Our professor had a mob wedding.”

Zoe suddenly sits up straight. “Wait a second. Guys, remember that weird email we all got about a year ago? The one that looked like spam but had our names in it?”

The others nod slowly, realization dawning.

“It said something about a ‘special event’ and how the sender wished we could be there,” Lisa recalls. “We all thought it was just a weird phishing attempt.”

“Holy shit,” Jake breathes. “She invited us to her mob wedding.”

The podcast wraps up: “Today, the Dutch Crime Syndicate stands at the pinnacle of European organized crime, with Y/N and Max as its power couple. Their story serves as a reminder that in the modern criminal underworld, brains can be just as valuable as brawn. And sometimes, the most dangerous person in the room might just be the one with a literature degree.”

As the outro music plays, the friends sit in stunned silence.

Finally, Emily speaks up. “So ... do we think it’s really her?”

They look at each other, years of shared memories and inside jokes about their favorite professor flashing through their minds.

“I mean, what are the odds of two literature professors named Y/N Y/L/N getting mixed up with the mob in the same year?” Alex points out.

Jake nods slowly. “And it would explain why she just vanished. Why the department was so weird about it.”

“But ... but it’s Y/N,” Lisa protests weakly. “She used to bring us cookies during finals week. She cried when we analyzed sad poems.”

Zoe reaches for her phone. “Only one way to find out for sure. I’m googling her.”

The others crowd around as Zoe types in their former professor’s name. The search results load, and they collectively gasp.

There, staring back at them from countless news articles and blurry paparazzi shots, is an unmistakable face. It’s older, harder somehow, but undeniably the woman who once taught them about Jane Austen and Shakespeare.

“Well,” Emily says faintly, “I guess this explains why she always said Pride and Prejudice needed more action scenes.”

The room erupts into hysterical laughter, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting them full force.

As they catch their breath, Jake raises his wine glass. “To Professor Y/L/N,” he says solemnly. “May her gun be as mighty as her pen.”

The others join in the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“You know,” Alex muses, “I always thought her lectures on Crime and Punishment were a little too detailed.”

Another round of laughter fills the apartment as the friends settle in to re-listen to the podcast, this time with a whole new perspective on their former professor turned criminal mastermind.

As the night wears on, they share memories of their college days, now tinged with the surreal knowledge of where life has taken their beloved professor. And though none of them would admit it out loud, there’s a small part of each of them that can’t help but admire the sheer audacity of it all.

After all, how many people can say their literature professor went on to conquer the criminal underworld?

[marleyybluu]

Another Man's Treasure

Oscar Diaz x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k (I am so sorry lmao)

Warnings: 18+, shitty husband, smut, p in v, unprotected (but pls don't be this stupid), creampie, dirty talk, cheating (but is it really if your husband is an ass), flirting, fluff, love at first sight type shit, Spanish/English pet names (pretty lady, hermosa, cariño), limited use of y/n(I literally used it once) idk lmk if I missed any.

(I only mention the first song but the other two are more for the… spicy scene😏)

——

The only escape from reality you had was the small moments of disassociation you had between the screaming of your children and the-

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

The shouting of your overgrown child of a husband playing his stupid games on his stupid PS5 that you wanted to set on fucking fire. This is not the life you pictured as a stay-at-home mom, yes the piles of dirty laundry were expected, and the mountainous dishes in the sink but you never predicted you'd be doing this alone. Your own mother stayed at home with you and your two brothers but your dad would still help her around the house so that she got the time to kick her feet up and relax.

You never got that.

You were living with this dark cloud over your head and deep regrets in your mind, why did you marry this man? You did think he was the love of your life, three years together before you got married proved your theory but never did you think it was going to end up like this. The amount of work you did was overwhelming, just one look at the number of toys on the floor made tears sting your eyes. You were tired, exhausted, drained and absolutely depleted.

If this was a job, you'd quit, you would take your children and quit. You wanted to so badly but the small hope of him changing clung to you like a piece of lint. You sighed holding your eleven-month-old on your hip while you made him a bottle, anything to keep him from wailing in your ears-- Jesus, half the time you couldn't hear.

"Babe!"

Your eyes rolled, you loathed his voice at this point. "What?"

"Can you pass me a water bottle?"

"Get up and get it, I'm making Malakai a bottle."

He groaned. "For fuck sake, you're in the kitchen already."

Your nostrils flared, and your eye twitched. You wanted to cuss at him, shout at him until your voice box shattered but you kept whatever calm you had left and ignored him. A small hand landed on your nose and you smiled kissing the tiny palm. "I love you too bubba."

He flashed a little smile and your heart sobbed at the fact that your last baby was growing so fast, teeth already emerging from his gums when just months ago he didn't have any. You could never regret your three little creatures, you loved them dearly, so much so you were willing to put up with the man that helped you create them just so they could have a two-parent household but you didn't know how much longer you could take this.

Heavy footsteps trailed inside the kitchen, you could tell he was angry at the fact that he had to pause his little game just to grab some water. He looked over the sink, utterly disgusted by the site in front of him and instead of just keeping his mouth shut or for once volunteering to do them he decided to spit out a sentence that made you want to knock his head off with the glass bottle you were holding; "You need to wash the dishes."

Your blood was boiling, if life was a cartoon you'd have steam coming out of your ears. "Why don't you get off of the game and do them?" You bit.

He cracked open the bottle cap. "Hey, I'm the one that works all week, you just stay home and do nothing."

Nothing? NOTHING!?

That was it.

That was the tip of the iceberg.

Your shoulders dropped and he left the kitchen, there was that ringing in your ears again that came and went every time you zoned out. Ever since you got married you'd felt nothing but unappreciated by him, you quit your job to stay home with your children and not even a thank you, you made sure he had a good meal when he went to work and all you got in return was an "it was okay." And the disgustingly dirty dish tossed right in the sink you'd just emptied. You were at the end of your rope.

You held back your tears and lightly kissed your son on his head handing him his bottle and putting him on a beam bag so he could lay down and drink. You trotted upstairs to check in on your oldest twins who were in their room colouring and getting along for once. Then you headed to the bathroom locking the door behind you, your body sliding down to the floor, you curled up in a ball burying your head between your knees you let out a long and heavy sigh before your river of tears took over.

A cry session your body and mind were so used to. You wailed into the void, muffling your weeps so that your children wouldn't hear you and come asking what was wrong, a question you couldn't answer without them turning on their father and you didn't want to ruin that relationship they had with him.

You were just so tired.

--

As night fell you remained mute when it came to your husband, whatever he had to say you didn't respond to, you were just happy that it was Sunday and soon he'd be out of your face for a few hours.

With the kids all asleep you were in the kitchen on FaceTime with your older brother. "The kids are great, they're sleeping." You conversed.

"And how have you been?"

There was no hiding how you felt when it came to your siblings, you were the baby and the only girl so when you were hurt they knew and they'd do whatever they could to fix it. "I'm okay... I'll be okay." You reassured. He was the only one who knew some small details about what you were going through and you begged him not to say anything not even to your mother until you figured out how to deal with everything yourself.

"Hey, listen, Jordyn is going on vacation next week, she's hitting Fiji, and I think you should go with her."

You squinched up your face, you didn't have a problem with your brother's wife, always so thankful for the sister you never got but what about your kids? Could you even trust that man to take over your duties even for a day?

As if he read your mind he continued. "I mean it'll be summer break next week, and they can stay by me if you want. I just, I really think you need time away from life. I want to see my little sister happy."

You pouted, it really touched your heart how concerned he was. A vacation would be wonderful, it was all you could dream of after the kids were born, you loved them but you just wanted to be by yourself.

"I'll think about it."

"Well, don't think too hard." He joked. "Whatever. I gotta get their lunches together, I'll call you when I make my decision."

"Sounds good, night."

"Night."

The call ended and you finished packing the twins' lunch placing the bags on the only empty spot on the counter. You huffed at the dishes and your husband's words replayed in your head. Nothing. You do absolutely nothing.

The longer you stared a vengeful plan began to brew. You were about to show him what doing nothing meant.

--

You decided you were going on that trip, Jordyn was excited and your brother was happy with your choice. The week flew by quickly, you kept up your normal appearance of keeping the house clean and to your husband's liking and by each day you grew more distant from him not like he cared in the first place.

On the last day of school you explained to the twins that you were taking a trip with Aunty Jordyn and they, unfortunately, couldn't come but they'd be staying with their uncle and they'd loved that man to death so they were excited either way. Your house was a mess and for once you smiled at it, you'd been letting everything pile up for the last two days, packing the clean clothes they did have in advance. The only explanation you gave your husband was that they were all staying by your brother for the week but you didn't mention that you weren't coming back.

You were leaving tonight and there would be no stopping you. You loaded the van with their stuff and yours and hollered for them to get their little butts in the car. "Last one in the car has stinky feet!" You laughed at the building volume of stomping feet coming across the hall and down the stairs, your twins were out and your youngest sat on your hip giggling at their antics. You happily wrote a short note.

Bye.

That's it.

You showered your baby in kisses and grabbed your keys before heading out the door, you locked it and made your way to the car, buckling in your baby and making sure the other two were in securely. You closed the door and first time in a long time you felt a weight off your shoulders, you smiled in satisfaction at how you left the house knowing you were not going to answer a single phone call from that man.

--

Jordyn squealed. "Ugh! I am so excited I don't even know what to do with myself!" You laughed at her enthusiasm as you put your hair up in a ponytail. It was day 2 of your trip and you were living life, you couldn't remember the last time you felt this relaxed. Now, of course, you missed your children it'd been the longest you'd ever been apart from them so you were a bit clingy with the calls but it was all understandable.

You two were hitting the beach today and you were a bit nervous, nobody had seen your body in almost a year not even your husband but Jordyn had persuaded you to find your behind in a two-piece bikini and you argued that you'd wear it as long as you could wear a cover-up so it was a deal. You looked yourself over in the mirror, you felt oddly confident. You looked fucking good. Three kids did your body right.

"You sure you want that cover-up?" She teased watching you admire yourself. "Hmm," You angled your lower half so you could check out your bum, how plump it had become over the years. "Maybe not."

She winked. "That's my girl."

You two grabbed what you needed and headed down to the beach which was right in front of the hotel you were staying at. The slight wind brushed against the water sending a cool and comforting breeze your way, your ears wiggled at the sound of the waves, and the giggles of other vacationers enjoying their time like you were.

The cushiony sand had greeted your toes after overflowing onto your sandals. You two travelled until you found a decent spot, it was close to the bar and the body of water. You set up your area as best as you could but you were in a battle with the beach umbrella Jordyn insisted on bringing. She watched with her hand covering her mouth to camouflage her laughter. "Okay, you know what, I'll handle this and you go handle us some drinks."

You childishly stuck out your tongue and strutted your way over to the bar, you hopped on an available stool. The bartender noticed you asking for you to just give him a minute. "No worries." You responded. You went on your phone and checked the many pictures your brother sent of your children, you smiled and a bit of sadness tugged at your heart. You missed your babies dearly.

The number of messages went up and it could only be one person. You promised you wouldn't look but you just had to, you swiped and tapped on your husband's name.

Where the fuck are you!?

The house is a fucking mess!

I'm not cleaning up, I hope you know that.

Baby, come on, we can work this out. Please.

You scoffed at the last message and put your phone down casually being greeted by the bartender who watched your various emotions while you went through your phone. "Everything's okay?"

Oh. Wow.

He presented a sweet smile, your eyes slightly widening at the sight in front of you. He was handsome, scratch that, he was fine as fuck. The shaved head didn't usually work on a lot of men but it did him justice, the scattered tattoos on his pretty and tanned skin, his broad shoulders that looked like they were made for legs to be hooked on and not to mention his big arms that looked like they could hold you snug and tight all through the night.

"Uh, yeah, everything's... everything is good." You stammered, a queasy feeling crept through you as it settled in your lower stomach. Butterflies? But you couldn't even remember what that felt like in order to come to that conclusion.

"Good to know. What can I get you, ma?"

You shuddered at his voice. He could talk to you all day.

"One Long Island, and one Piña Colada please."

He nodded. "Starting off slow I see." He chuckled. "Eh, we're on vacation, gotta soak it all up before we go back."

"I see," He multitasked making your drinks and conversing. "And when does the pretty lady go back?"

You blushed, should you even tell this literal stranger when you're actually leaving? But he felt... comfortable, easy to talk to and it's not like you'd ever see him again. "End of the week."

"Oh, you have plenty of time to get shit-faced." He encouraged. He'd finished your order and placed the liquored-down drinks in front of you. "Don't worry about paying yeah? It's on the house. Enjoy your vacation pretty lady."

"Y/n... you could just call me Y/n."

Not like you wanted him to, pretty lady was working just fine

"Nice to meet you. Oscar... Diaz." He winked. "Thanks, for the drinks."

"Anytime, pretty lady."

Your legs felt wonky as you walked away, and your breathing quickened. You did your best to walk back to Jordyn without looking back, if you did you were pretty sure you'd fall, just clumsy as fuck. "Girl, that man was watching you walk away." She whispered. "Stop." You poked, shoving her drink toward her. "Oh please, his eyes were on you." Jordyn gazed over to the bar, "He's still staring."

You casually whipped your head around and sucked your teeth when you noticed he wasn't. You glared at her. She snickered taking a sip from her Long Island. "Makes good drinks too."

You sighed, "Shut up."

The topic was silenced, you downed a few more drinks but sent Jordyn to get them instead while you swam around in the cooling water, floating around enjoying the peace the water brought you. But you couldn't help but occasionally look over to the bar. Oscar Diaz... nice name. Nice face. Cute little moustache that sat above his lips and a goatee that sat below. Pretty rosy pink lips...

Your eyes darted away. You're married.

Are you though?

You swam back up to the beach, it was beginning to get dark and the patrons on the beach became scarce. You wrapped yourself in a towel and collected anything Jordyn hadn't packed up yet. "You want one more drink before they close up? Maybe your new friend will allow it." She teased. You took off your flip-flop and threw it at her but your reaction only made her laugh.

A familiar voice was heard behind you. "So she's beautiful and she's got good aim, better watch out." 

You quietly gasped. "Hi... Oscar."

"Hey, uhm, listen I own a club not too far from here and you know it's a decent hangout for the locals... and the visitors." He winked. "Wanted to know if you two would like to come check it out?"

You fought back a smile. "We could try." You answer without even thinking. "I'll take that," He reached into his pocket handing you a folded piece of paper, you assumed had the address of the place he owned. Your fingers brushed against his, prickles felt like they were forming on your skin and those weird feelings returned in your lower stomach.

He sent you another wink and headed back off to the bar to close up.

--

Of course, Jordyn was down to go. You groaned internally as you two pulled up to a crowded place, looking up at the illuminated sign reading Cloud 9. Hmm, cute. You pulled down your dress as it rose up with each step, your heels clicking against the cold ground, the music booming so loud you could feel your body vibrating the closer you got to the entrance, flashing lights of different colours beamed through the door every time it opened blinding whoever entered. "Where's your friend?" Jordyn asked. "Have patience, I just told him we got here."

"Mhm." She sassed. Your heart thumped in your ears, it pounded against your chest. What were you doing? It was a question you asked yourself from the moment you got back to your room and began to get ready for tonight. You shook off your thoughts and shifted your eyes over to a black door that slowly began to open. "Hey, over here." Oscar waved you two over and you followed. "What's going on, pretty lady?... And pretty lady's friend."

Jordyn nodded at him as a silent greeting, she was just here to observe your anxious behaviour for her entertainment. "Come on," You followed him through a dimly lit hallway and up a flight of stairs, your nerves building and sudden regret forming in your bones until you entered a brighter atmosphere, the loud music returning to your eardrums. He had led you two to a section that only had a few people, you could assume it was the VIP section.

"Anything you two want to drink just let me know and I got you."

Jordyn raised her eyebrows at the tempting bottle of unopened champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. Oscar chuckled granting her permission to open it, she shimmied her shoulders in excitement and got to work. You shook your head at her, you travelled over to the balcony and looks down at all the patrons having the time of their lives, a few familiar faces from the resort and others that weren't recognizable which you could only assume were locals.

Oscar found his place beside you and nudged your shoulder with his. "You want anything to drink?"

"No, not yet, I'm good."

He slowly nodded. "So, what are you doing in Fiji? Besides vacationing."

You huffed, "I just needed time to myself... to get away from shit."

"I hear that." You could just feel those sweet and curious brown eyes boring into the side of your head, you poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue and looked down at your shoes, just anything to not make eye contact with him. You were shy, you were never shy not even with your husband when you first met him. It's like this was a new feeling, you were queasy and nervous and it honestly felt good in a weird way-- it felt good to not be comfortable, to get all flustered over someone like a schoolgirl crush.

"You really own this place?"

He scrunched up his face. "Half own, I guess. My brother and I came here for an escape just like you and we ended up staying. Now, we own Cloud Nine and I work down at the resort once in a while."

"Oh, you're a busy man."

"I try to be." Oscar chuckled. He was so easy to talk to, why was he so easy to talk to?

You found yourself moving a bit closer. "What were you trying to escape from?"

"Life. I wasn't happy where I was living and I wanted better but... given the circumstances, we just couldn't get it. So I threw a dart on a map, so to speak, it landed on Fiji and we've been here ever since."

"Where are you from then?"

"Originally born in Mexico, we moved to LA, and then out here."

"Would you ever go back to the States?" You asked finally looking up at him knowing he hadn't taken his eyes off you all night. He leaned forward, officially entering your bubble. "If I had a good enough reason... yeah."

You looked up at him through your lashes and softly smiled, meanwhile, Jordyn sat on the couch sipping and shaking her head at the sight in front of her. She would playfully scold you in the morning but tonight she'd let you have your harmless fun.

As the party went on you were getting a bit bored being upstairs so you grabbed your girl and headed downstairs to where the crowd was and of course Oscar was right behind you, he felt a sense of protection over you two tonight given this was your first time out here and inside his establishment. You had found enough confidence to start dancing around, a little two-step from left to right to get you going, but soon the constant flow of drinks Jordyn handed you helped you loosen out of that as well.

The DJ was beginning to play all the oldies, and that was your specialty. Oscar watched in adornment as you killed every lyric, every adlib and every beat to whichever song came on. It had transitioned from a bit of Hip-hop to something a lot slower.

  "Right now, we're gonna slow it down a bit, so grab your lovers and take your time."

The lights changed to blue and a recognizable first note had you close your eyes.

Mmm ooooh, my my my my my my my babyyy ouuuuuu

Jordyn had already found herself dancing with a random woman. She looked widened her eyes at you and quickly flicked them over to Oscar, trying her best to encourage you to make your move. But he was faster. You felt yourself being pulled into his warm embrace, his strong chest against your exposed back, his hands carefully snaking around your waist as if he was worried about you rejecting his touch but you gladly welcomed it.

Melting into his hold you two swayed side to side, he leaned down comfortably nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. You were lost in the vibes of Keith Sweat's Right and a Wrong Way. You reached back hooking your arm around his neck lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. "You smell so good, mamita." He whispered, it was a miracle that you heard him. Your lips parted slightly as you felt his warm breath tickle your skin. His swift hands ran up your sides resting right under your breasts and gliding back down to your hips.

A thumping began between your thighs, now that was something you hadn't felt in a long time. You put that feeling to the side no matter how hard it was to do so. The rest of the night it felt like all the songs were targeted for just you two, you hadn't eased up on him once-- always in close proximity to him. He touched you in simple ways, ways you hadn't been touched in almost a year.

It was getting super late, almost three in the morning and you couldn't recall the last time you were out like this, it'd give you hell when you woke up but it was worth it. You and Jordyn rode back to the resort with Oscar, she exited the car first thanking him for the night out and wobbling her way inside. You giggled watching her walk away, "I should get in there before she tries the key on the wrong room."

But you didn't want to leave him.

And he didn't want to leave you.

"Thanks for tonight, I had a lot of fun."

"No problem, anything to help a pretty lady escape." He bit his lip. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Recovering," You laughed, "But other than that nothing."

"Can I see you again?"

You gulped and nodded. "Mhm."

He laid out his palm your eyebrows furrowed as you rested yours on top of his, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and placed such a gentle kiss on your skin. "Goodnight, mamita."

You wanted to scream. You left the car putting a little swing in your hips as you walked away, you looked over your shoulder and sent him a cute little wave before disappearing behind the doors.

— —

And that's how you spent the rest of your trip, shamelessly flirting with Oscar. You got to know each other a lot more, when you weren't spending time with Jordyn you were with him. Giggling like an airhead and blushing red like Rudolph's nose.

Jordyn constantly teases you about the crush you'd seem to quickly develop.

"Is this stupid?" You ask shoving your face in the pillow. This all felt too good to be fucking true, a guy that you met only four days ago was treating you so much better than the man you married four years ago. Oscar had flowers for you at the front desk of the resort every morning and sent you the sweetest messages throughout the day about how he was thinking of you, how he caught a glimpse of you today and you looked stunning, calling you the prettiest woman he'd ever seen step on this island.

You convinced yourself they were all lies, sugarcoating you like he probably did every woman but who were you fooling? Certainly not yourself and certainly not Jordyn.

"It's not."

"I'm married." You argued tiredly to which she fake yawned. "I don't see a ring on that finger and I don't see that man treating you any better than Oscar has. Just saying."

The fingers on your right hand brushed your vacant ring finger, you'd taken it off the minute you got on the plane, you didn't want to be reminded of him on this trip at all and yet there was that piece in the back of your mind that reached out to him. Checking his messages once in a while but never responding, he was giving you the attention you wanted but it didn't feel right.

The fact that you had to spontaneously leave to get even a fraction of what you were asking for was bullshit. Downright bullshit.

You groaned sitting up the pads of your fingers now rubbing your temples, tired and stressed. The trip was almost over and you dreaded going back to that house that was no longer a home. He'd sent you pictures that he'd finally cleaned up but you had a feeling once you returned home things would go back to the way they were and you did not want that.

"I think your brother would agree with me, you've smiled more in these past few days than I've seen back home, I mean you two are always so distant when you come over. And don't think I don't hear your rants when you and your brother are on the phone. Now I don't condone cheating but, hey, I didn't see shit."

You sighed checking your phone for any recent texts from your husband but Jordyn caught wind of what you were doing and snatched your device. "Enough with him. Flirt and have fun before you have to go back to normalcy."

You heard your phone buzz in her hand, she looked at the message for you. "Speaking of, someone is downstairs."

You felt nauseous. "Where are you two going anyway?"

"Down to the beach, said he has to restock the bar... and I wanted to spend time with him so I offered to help."

"Mhm." She winked. You grabbed your phone back from her grasp and told her you'd be back soon. You left your room, entered the elevator and headed downstairs where Oscar was happily waiting for you. "Hola querida." He become more comfortable speaking Spanish around you, especially when he noticed how the little nicknames got a reaction out of you.

"Hi," Oscar noticed the shaky tone in your response and made note of it You had comfortably slipped your hand inside his, he immediately hooked his fingers in the spaces of yours. Like he was your puzzle piece.

You two headed down to the decent-sized Hut, your eyes widened at the number of boxes sitting on the sand. "Don't worry, I got the heavy bottles, you just get the small ones." He reassured pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You loved those, so innocent and sweet, although you wish sometimes he'd kiss you on your lips or you had to courage to kiss his. "Think I can't handle the big boxes?" You scoffed walking inside after him.

"I think you can, I just don't think my pretty lady needs to."

My pretty lady.

ugh!

With music playing in the background you two got to work, "Do you still think about running your own restaurant?" You asked sparking a conversation, you squatted down to the lower shelves and propped the glass bottles in an organized fashion, eyes tearing through the material of your sundress and you could feel them. "I do, yeah. Why?"

You bit your lip. "Would it still be down here?"

There was a beat of silence. "Most likely."

Another pause in the moment aside from your soft humming to the music. "You excited to see your kids?" He asked. You smiled at the mere thought of them. "I am. My three little headaches." Oscar found himself next to you, leaning against the counter, you stopped your movements and looked up-- he had one arm folded over the other and a bit of a scowl on his face.

"What?" You innocently question standing up to match his eye line, well more-like chest line. "Nothing, just trying to take my time to remember this face." He reached for your cheek, his fingers ghosting your flesh. "You flirt like this with all the girls here?"

A question that was supposed to come out jokingly but you were a bit serious. "Nah," You squinted at him watching his lips press together, his chest stuttering as he held back a laugh. "You asshole, I knew it." A dramatic hand to your heart as you playfully pouted at him and fake cried. Oscar's arms enveloped you in their warmth, you attempted to push him off but it was no use, your feet suddenly off the ground, you squealed and giggled as he switched positions with you plopping you on top of the counter.

He placed his palms flat on the side of your thighs while he was positioned comfortably between them. "To be fair, hermosa, it is kind of my job. But believe me when I say I've never spent any time with them. And I've definitely never brought them back here after hours." His thumb and pointer finger pinching your chin. "Just you, princesa."

You melted, your whole body could be seen physically slumping in his hold. His eyes sparkled while he looked at you, the crinkles in his eyes appearing as he smirked. Before you could comprehend anything his lips brushed yours, your head suddenly becoming foggy with the inappropriate images of him that you'd conjured up these past few days.

His nimble fingers danced along the hem of your dress, a rush of heat passing over you as he hiked it up further exposing more of your flesh.

This was no longer a want... it was a need.

Your hands landed right under his jaw as you pulled him in crashing your lips onto his and he happily reciprocated your energy, his hands wandered up to your hips tugging you closer to him as if it were possible. Your lips moved as one, tongues passing by in the heat of the moment, the only thing on your mind was him and you wanted it to remain so for as long as possible.

Tingles scattered around your body, both of you flushed with lust and arousal. Your hands travelled to the bottom of his shirt quietly begging for him to take it off, you needed to feel his skin, thankfully he got the message-- pulling away for a brief moment to remove his top. Your eyes glazed over his lightly tanned skin, little scars here and there you can only presume he earned before he got here.

You smiled at the strewed ink on his torso, chest and ribs. "What are you thinking about?" He inquired. You looked back up into his brown iris'. "I wish I had met you first." You mumbled drawing him back down, this kiss was a lot more passionate and slow unlike the first.

Oscar's hands gently tugged at the neckline of your dress, your breasts spilling over and his calloused hands finding them. You softly moaned against his lips, your nipples hardening from the cool breeze and his fondling. He pinched and rolled them between his fingers, your head tipped back and his teeth nipped at the column of your neck.

You were forming a small pool in your panties at his teasing. His tongue grazed your neck continuously licking and sucking a specific spot that was getting a squirming reaction out of you. You felt his devilish smile, he knew what he was doing to you and he liked it.

His hands moved from torturing your swollen breasts back down to your thighs shoving your dress up until your little black panties were on display. You sat on the edge of the counter making it a bit easier for him to remove them, the cool air hitting your soaking slit.

"Touch me, please, touch me." You whined not caring about how desperate and needy you sounded. Oscar listened to your pleas and dipped one hand between your legs, his fingers quickly finding your slick folds. You shuddered as he glided two fingers up and down, dipping them inside you once in a while.

You were soaking, you were throbbing, and you just wanted him inside you where he fucking belonged. He slowly plunged his fingers inside, you clench around them happy to have something pleasuring you. Your eyes are closed and your legs spread further for him, nails digging into his shoulder blade hopefully leaving little indents.

He pumped them in and out of you with the squidgy noise of your wetness to follow. "Yes... oh yes, like that."

Oscar felt himself twitch under his boxers using his other hand to undo his belt and pulled down his materials. His dick is hard and his tip a rosy pink turning cherry red oozing with a bit of cream, his hips buckled once his hand brushed over it-- equally as desperate as you were. Your erotic moans were like music to his ears, so much sexier than he could've pictured. You whined once he removed them your hole flexing around nothing as you caught your breath.

Oscar hooked your legs over his arms spreading you to his desire, you reached between your bodies firmly (but not too tight) grasping his length and guiding it to your entrance, his swollen head prodding inside you as the rest of him followed.

Your jaw slacked at the feeling of him deliciously stretching you out, he was so thick and it felt so nice. Oscar croaked out a moan while burying himself deep inside your warmth-- coating his dick with your sticky walls, so slick and welcoming that he didn't want to move.

You caressed the back of his neck as he pressed another kiss on yours, trailing it up the side and finally landing on your mouth. You giggled into the kiss, Oscar pulled back with a questioning look. "I can't tell the last time I felt like this." You mumbled under your breath but he heard you. He didn't want you to leave, hell if you didn't have kids he'd probably try to convince you to move out here with him.

He didn't say anything in response just pulled out and pushed back in. "Fuck." You both moaned.

His head dipped back down, nibbling on your sweet skin.

You whimpered through every tantalizing stroke he gave you, his tip poking right at your hot spot and you knew you wouldn't last. "You feel so good!" A sentence broken by little gasps. Oscar grunted, violently gripping your thighs as he pounded you, pulling the filthiest sounds from your pretty little throat. So loud and erotic he was sure they could hear you back at the resort.

Your eyes squeeze in absolute bliss, your head hazy from the constant pleasure you received, quickly feeling a sensation in your lower belly a wave of heat threatening to take over. Your palm lay flat on his back while the other gripped the edge of the counter.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oscar!"

He lifted you off the counter a bit, relentlessly slamming into you now. Your high getting closer and closer. "I can, shit, I can feel you mamita. So fucking tight."

Your toes curled and your eyes rolled. "Baby, ohhh, I need to..."

Oscar smiled. "You wanna cum for me, baby? Come, mi amor, all of it."

His words tipped you off the edge, your back arched and your body trembled from the shockwaves of your orgasm, he held you closely revelling in your pulsating pussy dripping down his shaft.

He quickly brought you off the countertop, your wobbly legs barely holding your support. He turned you around, you barely recovered from the first position.

You were sensitive and extra wet just how he wanted you. You flinched when he pressed himself against your entrance once again, pushing in ever so carefully. "Fuck... you."

He laughed menacingly, his hands squeezing your hips. "That's what I'm doin' pretty lady."

You wanted to give him a smart-ass answer but it was cut short when he began to move. Your nipples were hard against the surface, you rested your head down and whined. "So fucking good."

"Yeah?" He chuckled spanking you. He was enjoying the pornographic sounds that you provided, all going straight to his dick.

He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you up against him, back pressed on his chest, his warm breath in your ear. "Can't get enough of you I swear." He admitted.

He poked and prodded against that familiar spot, tears of overwhelming pleasure threatening to spill when he pinched your nipple. "Fuck! I'm gonna miss you, so fucking much."

"You gonna think about me?"

"Yes! Oh!"

You felt him twitch inside you, you smiled egging him on. "I won't stop thinking about you, when I touch myself I'll picture it's you-"

"Fuck, cariño,"

"Ou, you're the only one I want inside me."

You convulsed around him feeling another orgasm quickly building and getting ready to fall apart. A few more thrusts and Oscar held himself still inside you, your body shivering at the warm cream he just spilled inside you. His high triggering yours. You reached behind hooking your arm around his now sweaty neck.

The sound of the wind against the water and the waves crashing describe exactly how you felt right now.

"Oh... my god." You said breathlessly.

"You're okay?" He asked with a laugh. You giggled tipping your head back on to his shoulder. "Better than okay."

He sighed kissing your back. "I meant it..." You said.

"What?"

"I'm gonna miss you."

He smiled sheepishly. "I'll miss you too."

--

Those moments replayed in your head constantly, it was the only thing getting you by once you came back home. You two still talked every day, called and FaceTimed but it wasn't enough. You would stare at the prices of tickets and sigh, you couldn't afford to go back right now.

Your life was the same, unloved and unappreciated, despite the embarrassingly desperate messages your husband had sent when you were on your trip. You stared at another pile of dishes, your shoulder sinking with exhaustion. With your two older ones at school and your son almost an hour into his nap you decided to just relax. You clicked on Netflix and attempted to finish Bridgerton's, Queen Charlotte.

Your eyelids felt heavy, sleep threatened to take over but the doorbell had them shoot open. It wasn't just one ring it was multiple and it was annoying so you assumed it was your brother. You groaned trudging to the door. You swung it open aggressively, ready to give him a piece of your mind. "You're going to wake-"

There he was. Standing in front of you, on your doorstep... at your house. "O-Oscar..." You poked his chest to see if he was really there. "Said I'd come back when I have a good reason." Your eyes softened, your arms reaching for him. His lips immediately find yours. "I," kiss, "fucking," kiss "missed you."

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he stepped inside closing the door. He carried you over to the couch and plopped you on the cushions. You laughed, your mood immediately changing with him around. "Jordyn told you where I lived didn't she?"

He nodded. You rolled your eyes. "Of course."

"Not happy to see me?"

You pulled him down for another kiss.

"Beyond happy."

I was going to wait until the weekend to post this but I am a little too excited to get this out.

Shoutout to my girl @darqchilddaydreamz for her input on a few things and her encouragement. Holdin it down ✊🏾

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Alsooooo thank you for 800 followers, yall cool as fuck thanks for fucking with me and my antics.

Peace and love see you in the next one✌🏾

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit

[the-iceni-bitch]

Chemical Override, Ultraviolet. You Could Be Mine Tonight…

Relationship: lawyer!amazon Natasha Romanoff x plus size!short female!reader (Big Red and Peach)

Words: ~2.3k

Summary: It’s your birthday, again, and Nat really can’t help but spoil you.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (w/w sex, strap-on use, pussy eating), established relationship, kind of idiots in love, they’re just really fucking cute, SMUT!!! NO MINORS!!!

A/N: I love them and I’ve missed them terribly. They really are so goddamn adorable.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all my fics follow my sideblog, @the-iceni-library , and turn on notifications!

“God, do we really have to go?” You pouted at Nat while she grabbed her purse. “We could spend the day at home and do dirty stuff.”

“Baby, it’s your birthday, a big one,” she chuckled when you huffed at her, “Listen, just trust me. I know you, I know what you like. I promise you’ll have a good time. You’ve been wanting to try this place forever, right?”

“I guess…” You had, but it was always so busy, and your loving but occasionally overbearing girlfriend was probably going to make the waitstaff sing to you.

Before you had a chance to whine any more she was shoving you out the front door. At least it was a short walk, but that didn’t mean you were going to quit being a brat about this. Every time you were about to complain she would just kiss you, though. Then you would forget what you were going to make a fuss about and get pouty about that. Damn her and her ability to predict your behavior! Why couldn’t she let you be grumpy? Of course, it was always hard to stay grumpy when your gorgeous Amazon of a girlfriend was holding your hand and smiling at you like you were the whole world. You were going to give it your best shot, though. It’s not like she didn’t love you cranky ass anyway.

When you reached the restaurant you let out a loud whine, stamping your feet a few times and pouting while Nat just smiled and dragged you inside. You braced yourself for the crowd and the noise and all the shit you didn’t want to deal with on your birthday.

But it was empty. It was Friday night and one of the most popular restaurants in the city was empty.

“Nat…” you squeezed her hand when she led you to the only set table in the place. “What did you do?”

“I decided to spoil my little peach for her birthday.” She just shook her head when you sniffed at her holding your chair out for you. “C’mon sweetheart. I already gave the chef and bartender a list of what you wanted to try most so you won’t have to see anyone else except when they bring out the next dish.”

“Jesus Christ,” you were still getting used to how well this woman treated you, but looking at the smoked salmon tarts and pink cocktails you couldn’t help but smile. “Are they gonna bring all the rosé cocktails?”

“You bet your fine little ass they are,” she kissed your hand as she sat down next to you. “Just don’t get too drunk. Can’t have you falling off my dick later tonight.”

“Nat!” You slapped your hand over your mouth when you snorted and felt your Paloma go up your nose. “Will you ever stop bringing that up?”

“Not ever,” she grabbed your hand when you slapped her shoulder and kissed each of your fingers, growling playfully and nibbling on your thumb when you snuggled up to her. “Your adorable little squeal when you tumbled off the bed is forever ingrained into my memory. My little girl was just so sure she could ride the big boy.”

“Shut up,” you let her feed you a tart and scrunched up your face when she kissed your forehead. “I would’ve been fine if I was sober.”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl,” Nat took a sip of her vodka cranberry and wound her arm around your waist. “Not like you get overconfident whenever you’re drunk or anything.”

“Hey, if I can take it lying down I should be able to ride it!” When you realized how loud you were talking you were suddenly very grateful that the restaurant was empty, your face getting all kinds of hot as you took a long drink of your Paloma. “I mean, logically.”

Nat really did know you and what you liked, and it didn’t piss you off like it used to at all. You could talk to her about anything when it was just the two of you. You could laugh that stupidly loud and screechy laugh you did when she reminded you of something stupid you did that she insisted was the most adorable thing in the world. The food and the drinks tasted amazing when you weren’t feeling overwhelmed by people surrounding you. Just you and her, and goddamn you were in love with her.

“This cake is fucking ridiculous,” you giggled when she wheeled out some pink flowery monstrosity with sparklers sticking out of it. “It looks too pretty to eat.”

“But eat it we shall,” damn her being so cute and cheering while she filmed you blowing out the sparklers then helped you pull them out of your cake. “I got the dark chocolate cherry you wanted to try. So eat a slice then we’ll pack it up and take it home.”

“Well,” you beamed at her when she cut you a nice big slice. “If you insist. Holy fuck, this is soooooo good!”

You could have eaten the whole thing. You would have if Nat hadn’t made a cryptic comment about a special surprise when she started to box up the cake. As much as you loved cake, you loved surprises from your girlfriend even more. So you just kept that ridiculously goofy grin on your face while she somehow managed to both hold the box of cake and keep you from wobbling when you tried to walk home on your semi-drunk legs.

“So bubbly when you drink your little pink drinks… shit!” Nat threw her head back and laughed heartily when you pounced on her as soon as she had put the cake down once you got home. “My my, aren’t we the eager little thing?”

“Mmhm,” you kissed all over her face and made needy sounds. “Need my birthday spanks from mommy.”

“Dear lord,” she gave you another lovely laugh and then threw you over her shoulder, slapping your ass as she started carrying you up the stairs while she counted off. “One… two… three…”

By the time you had reached the master bedroom she was finished and you were so worked up you could hardly breathe. You squealed when she tossed you on the bed and tore off your dress, your face getting warm when she looked at you like she was going to eat you alive. It still gave you the butterflies in your stomach whenever she looked at you like that, you always had a little bit of trouble believing she was real and in love with you.

“Wait, where are you going?” You propped yourself up on your elbows when she was suddenly gone. “Hey, I’m naked and it’s my birthday, what the fuck, Romanoff?”

“Be a little patient, pretty peach,” your sassy retort died in your throat when she walked out of the closet wearing nothing but lacy red panties, thigh highs, and a very large black strap on you had never seen before. “You really think I would leave my best girl hanging on her birthday?”

“Hehe, nuh-uh,” you squeaked when she grabbed both of your ankles and yanked you down the bed, gasping and wiggling when she nipped at your heel before kissing her way up the inside of your leg. “Mommy…”

“Mommy knows, baby girl,” she smiled against your skin when you kicked and giggled at her sucking on the sensitive spot on the back of your knee. “We have to make sure you’re ready for mommy’s cock, peach.”

You just mumbled nonsense in response as she nibbled her way to your throbbing core. As soon as her mouth met your slit your entire body shuddered violently, your breath coming in such fast, short pants you were worried about hyperventilating. But hey, passing out when your amazing sex goddess of a girlfriend was licking your pussy would be far from a bad thing. It hadn’t even been thirty seconds and you already felt like you were right on the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head and your hips grinding against her face while she fucked your with her mouth. When she gave your swollen clit a little nibble you broke, sobbing and squirming wildly as your cunt fluttered and gushed all over her face.

As soon as you were finished she was crawling up your body and stealing what little breath you had left in your lungs with a kiss so passionate you were quite sure you were going to faint. Then she was inside you, and goddamm. You were so overwhelmed all you could do was babble incoherently and clutch at her shoulders as she drove into you over and over again.

“Such an eager little girl for mommy, aren’t you?” Nat chuckled when your only response was a hiccup as she ground against your clit. She kissed your lips again, then kissed your neck, and then she was sucking on one of your nipples and oh look at that, you came again already. “That’s it. I bet your little pussy is squeezing mommy’s cock so hard right now. You are making a mess all over mommy’s thighs right now, peach.”

How you were supposed to actually respond to her was a mystery. You were nothing but a writhing bundle of sensations at the moment, sobbing and gasping while she fucked you with that strange mix of ferocity and tenderness that made submitting to her so damn easy. The occasional glimpse of her gorgeous face hovering above you managed to break through the fuzzy haze of your vision but then the world just turned back into a warm, golden glow as she somehow managed to wring even more pleasure out of your spent body.

“Fuck!” Your third orgasm made your body spasm so hard you were almost in pain, drool leaking from the corner of your slack mouth when she kissed you and started to pull out. “No, wait… nononono, don’t go…”

“Peach, baby,” Nat chuckled when you lifted your hips to try to keep the strap inside you. “You can hardly keep your mouth closed right now, birthday girl. Mommy thinks it might be time for some aftercare.”

“But…” you gave her a cute little scowl then rolled over onto your stomach, arching your back and pushing your hips up so you could wiggle your ass just a little. “It’s my birthday. Can… can you just fuck my ass a little bit… pretty pretty please?”

“You are an insatiable little minx, Jesus Christ,” she shook her head affectionately and gave your ass a firm smack, groaning appreciatively at the jiggle of your generous curves before spreading your cheeks and spitting right on your asshole. “I’ve spoiled you, haven’t I?”

“Mmhm… fuuuuuuuck…” your eyes rolled back again when she slid her finger inside your ass, rocking your hips so you were basically fucking your own hole on her hand while she gave you a few more quick spanks. “More…”

Nat really couldn’t say no to you, smacking your ass one more time as she slid a second finger inside you. It was hard not to give you everything you wanted when you were this fucking responsive, your pussy gushing and your voice leaving you in an adorable squeak when she pushed in a third finger. She could feel your desperation in the way your insides fluttered and clenched around her digits, leaning over your perfect, soft body and kissing the back of your neck while she stretched you open. Her fingers were gone without warning but you only had a moment to mourn the loss because then she was slamming the strap inside you so hard you saw god for just a second.

You had to bite the sheets underneath you to keep from screaming like you were being murdered as she started to fuck your ass in deep, long strokes. Her teeth were digging into your shoulder, her hips were grinding against your cheeks, and your ass was so full of her dick your guts were most likely going to be permanently rearranged. Then she was touching you, her hands were everywhere and maybe you could have held out a little longer but then one of her hands was between your legs and you were lost.

“There we go… that’s it, baby girl,” Nat crooned and slammed into you one last time as you came with a shriek, rubbing your clit gently while you shuddered and wailed from pure ecstasy. “Such a perfect girl for mommy.”

She pulled out of you slowly once you had collapsed into the mattress, undoing the harness around her hips and waist quickly and tossing the toy aside before wrapping you in her arms again. You just took a few short breaths as you struggled to get yourself under control, sighing when she rolled you onto your side and held you close to her chest.

“God, that was a pretty good fucking birthday present,” you giggled when she kissed your forehead and wound your arms around her waist. “Not gonna lie, I was thinking you were going to propose when you made such a big fucking deal about this one.”

“Were you?” Nat tilted your head back with a finger under your chin and beamed at you. “It is a big birthday, peach, but I wanted today to be all about you. Besides, I don’t like surprise proposals. That’s why I’m doing it at Christmas.”

“Oh, haha,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, your throat suddenly getting tight when she just kept smiling at you like she knew something you didn’t. “Nat… Nat, say ‘haha’. Nat, don’t you fucking joke around with me right now, that’s not nice,” you felt the blood run from your face when she just kissed your forehead and stood up while murmuring about running a bath. “Nat?! Natasha?!!!”

[juuuulez]

more lip x carmy x reader smut……. consider it not a direct prequel to this piece, but definitely in the same universe.. the start of their shenanigans perhaps.

so lip is your roommate: maybe you’ve managed to wrangle him into moving to a nicer area, someone safer than the south of chicago. it’s got tons of nice restaurants, you tell him! the nightlife is buzzing, public transport is (a little) cleaner, and it’s not even that far from home.

and he comes out of convenience, not because you two are anything special. he’s made that very clear. sure, you fuck around sometimes, and lip goes out of his way to make sure you’re always happy and satisfied and safe, but he’s very apparent about one fact:

lip gallagher does not do relationships.

not with you, not with anyone.

and yet, as he brings home a new girl every second night, you find yourself becoming increasingly annoyed. it was obnoxious, at this point.

the banging of his bed frame against the very thin walls, the clothes you’ll find scattered in the living room. when his fuck of the week comes out for coffee, half naked and clad in one of his shirts.

it pisses you off.

so, you decide it’s time for a little revenge.

it’s fair game, because in your mind, he started it. the plan is to find a guy, someone good looking, ideally, and have the loudest fuck of your life.

you find this man in a bar, somewhere dark with the music not too loud, just enough alcohol in your bloodstream to convince yourself this is a good idea.

tall, chiselled face, strong jaw… spiky hair…. and oh.

someone else catches your eye.

you think it’s lip, for a moment. that he’s predicted your plan and has come to squash it.

except it’s not lip.

his hair is long and curly, reminding you of lip’s from when he was younger, just a little more wild. it makes you yearn for the feeling of it between your fingers, a sorely missed sensation given that now lip insists on the buzz cut.

doesn’t matter, focus!

long story short, you manage to lure this mystery man off, with not more than some batted lashes and a sweet smile. you’d really been expecting more of a fight. regardless, it’s a win.

his name is carmy. so cute. you find it ironic that this guy has a clear aversion towards just using his actual name. and who does that remind you of?

the door closes with a slam, rattling the keys attached to the wall. “shh—” carmy whispers inbetween sloppy kisses, his hands settled on your waist as you tug him further down the hall. “don’t y’have roomates?” he asks.

“roommate, singular.” you mumble against his lips, fingers already working at the thin black tie he’s wearing.

it gets thrown to the floor, along with carmy’s jacket, and your heels. his hands find your thighs, pushing up the material of your dress, fingers hooking into the band of sheer stockings. his mouth finds your neck, mouthing hot and wet against the skin, your hand tugging at his curls.

it ends with your back pressed into the counter, the corner digging in uncomfortably, but that doesn’t matter. as far as a revenge fuck goes, you’re getting lost in the feeling, carmy’s eager hand coming up to cup your clothed cunt.

“fuck.” he grunts into your neck, grinding down against your hip. you wind a hand around to his belt loops, giving a firm tug that only presses his bulge flush with your form.

“jesus fucking christ, are you serious?”

lip squeezes his eyes shut the second he walks through the door, not wanting to see some fucking random rutting against you. there’s a grocery bag in his hand, the plastic crinkling as he tosses it towards the counter blindly, eyes still shut.

the intrusion causes carmy to recoil, his hands moving away from your body like he’d been burnt. a deep red flush comes to his face, made worse as your prying fingers persist, worming their way underneath his dress pants.

“i am serious,” you coo, looking over at lip. “this is my new friend carmy. say hello, carmy.”

“wha— what are you doing?” carmy can only squeak out, this strange mix of embarrassment and arousal thudding through his veins.

your free hand, the one not in his pants, finds the sides of his face, pinching his cheeks between your fingers. you use the grip to tilt his head, making carmy look across at lip.

and.. oh yeah, it’s starting to click now.

because, holy shit, carmy has one thought in his mind: is that me?

well, that thought, and also holy shit, her hand is still on my dick.

and lip’s going through a similar thought process, albeit with more anger, the familiar emotion stirring in his gut and overriding any of that initial confusion, because he knows you, and he knows this is some sick shit you’ve masterminded.

“bedroom, now.” he gets out, voice low and serious and commanding. it sends a tingle up your spine, one of excitement.

and you obey: grabbing carmy’s hand and tugging him along with you, despite the poor man’s confusion. because if you’re gonna be punished, he should too, right?

[theslushiestnoob]

THE BOY NEXT DOOR (pt2)

Word count: 2k

————————*:･ﾟ✧*:——————————

I need more furniture, I decided. My new flat, while nice, was boringly empty - vast expanses of walls remained unadorned, significant areas of the floor unfurnished. I had the basics - a bed, a kitchen, a chair, but I didn’t love any of them; they didn’t scream ‘me’ like I wanted them to.

I set out with the intention of buying a sofa - something plush and deep which I could collapse onto after a long day. As I swiftly discovered, sofas are expensive, and so my options were limited. I settled on a sage green one, padded with large pillows and a complementary throw blanket - included by the overly nice salesmen who seemed to take a particular interest in my customer satisfaction.

Driving through downtown Toronto with a huge green sofa strapped to the roof of my car was not a situation I’d predicted I would find myself in, but I can’t say that it is hugely out of character for me. Arriving at my place soon after, I placed my hands on my hips as I assessed the situation. Me, a sofa currently on top of my car, and four flights of stairs. Things were feeling awfully like an episode of friends before I was interrupted from my thoughts by a high voice.

‘Do you need some help?’

I turned around to face a small, pretty blonde woman standing in front of a tall dark-haired man. Her hair was held out of her face by a claw clip, her outgrown curtain bangs tucked behind her ears. She had a kind expression - the kind of face which you feel comfortable telling all of your darkest secrets to with no doubt of her loyalty. The man behind her held onto her hand affectionately, looking at the sofa with an intrigued expression.

‘Actually, yes please. I need to bring this up to my flat,’ I explain, smiling gratefully at their generosity.

‘I know I offered, but I think this is a job for you, Martin,’ The woman says, turning to rest her hand reassuringly on Martin’s shoulder. He sighs playfully, shooting her a soft smile before stepping toward my car.

‘Alright, Mandy watch out - let's just lift it onto the sidewalk first,’ He instructs, hooking his hands around the leg of the sofa. I mirror his movement, heaving with effort as we lower it onto the pavement. Martin straightens, shaking out his arms. He attempts to lift the sofa up again, but swiftly places it back down.

‘Honestly, I don't think we can do this alone,’ Martin pauses and gestures toward the complex. ‘Our friend lives in this building - he can help us.’

‘That would be perfect, thank you so much,’ I say, returning the smile Mandy gives me.

She pulls out her phone, rapidly texting who I assume to be their friend.

Less than two minutes later, a figure starts walking toward us; stocky, with golden skin and bouncing curls that I am frustratedly attracted to.

‘Oh, Jesus christ…’ I groaned under my breath as Hamzah approached us, his face contorted in a puckered smile.

‘Hey, y/n, good to see you again,’ He says with a mocking smirk.

‘You two know each other?’ Martin asks, slapping a hand against Hamzah’s back in greeting.

‘Not really,’ I replied, at the exact time Hamzah said ‘Yes’. I shot him an annoyed glance, causing his smile to widen further.

‘We’re neighbours,’ I explain, as Hamzah turns to hug Mandy.

‘Neighbours,’ Hamzah parrots in an amused tone. He turns to face Martin, asking ‘What did you say about a couch?’ 

‘Well, if you look just here there's a sofa, and it's supposed to be in my living room, not the side of the road,’ I explain, my tone mildly sarcastic.

‘Really?’ Hamzah deadpans. ‘But it goes so well with the greenery…’

I roll my eyes, turning away from him as he and Martin plot how they’re going to transport my sofa up to the fourth floor.

*

‘Thank you guys so much, honestly I could not have done it without you,’ I lean against the back of the sofa, now positioned perfectly in my living room.

‘Oh, we know girl,’ Hamzah mutters, and I shoot him a death stare.

‘It was so nice to meet you, too,’ I say to Mandy and Martin, ignoring Hamzah. Mandy steps towards me and hugs me, shocking me for a moment but I swiftly return the embrace.

‘We’ll see you again, I’m sure,’ Mandy says, ‘but here’s my number. You seem cool.’ She grabs my phone from the table, holding it in front of my face to unlock it and entering her number into my contacts. I secretly admire her unwavering assuredness, complete confidence that can only come from a certain kind of person.

The three of them leave my flat soon after, leaving me to plan out the rest of my decorations. I was hit by a wave of inspiration; two organised pin-boards and four shifts of the sofa later it was suddenly late into the evening. Through the paper-thin walls, I had heard the faint chatter coming from Hamzah’s place. As a trio, they seemed so close, so familiar - a great dynamic between them.

*

It was the late evening when I heard the knock - a brief but resounding sound that stirred me from reading on the sofa.

Opening the door, I rolled my eyes.

‘Ah, always so glad to see me,’ Hamzah deadpans, his arms laden with leaves. I looked him up and down, my eyes narrowed in question. He had a potted plant tucked under each arm and another on the floor beside him.

‘Why are you at my door with several houseplants?’ I ask, meeting his gaze and registering his amused smile.

‘To help you decorate. This place feels like a hospital. Very clinical,’ He replies, looking critically past my head and into the admittedly undecorated flat.

‘Hey! That's so unfair. I’ve lived here for three days - reserve your judgement, please,’ I say, turning around and leading him inside. He follows me to the expansive living room, placing the larger plant beside the sofa.

‘Already such an improvement. Adds some life, and there's just enough sunlight here from the window,’ he says quietly, admiring his own work. I cross my arms across my chest and smirk at him.

‘Didn’t take you for the gardening type,’ I say when he turns to look at me. He scoffs, shaking his head dismissively.

‘It’s calming. I actually just needed to get rid of some plants, so I’m dumping them with you.’

‘Oh, definitely. There was no generosity behind this at all, purely selfish,’ I say sarcastically. Hamzah turns to me, a vaguely pained expression crossing his rugged face as his eyebrows cinched. 

Moving around the apartment, he placed the plants - reciting care instructions to me. Water, light, humidity, nutrients - my head was swimming with all of the information he was feeding me. I was somewhat anxious for the responsibility - my pride would not allow me to let these plants die, I knew he would not let me live it down.

‘That’s pretty much it,’ Hamzah concludes, as if he hadn’t completely overwhelmed me with his vast knowledge of plant-care.

‘Great. And thank you, Hamzah, it was nice of you to give me these, I’m surprised.’ I said with a smile. He is quiet, his jaw flexing in response as a strained smile crossed his face.

He turned toward the door, pacing briskly to the exit. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, I felt compelled to ask him something.

‘Why are you so loud?’

‘What?’

‘You shout, a lot. Like when we first met - I was asking you to be quiet. Is it part of your job or something?’

‘Kinda, actually,’ he says with a laugh.

‘Okay, so you’re a voice actor. No, a horror game tester, or a sports commentator-’

‘I’m a YouTuber,’ He interrupts. There is a pause, and I giggle.

‘No, you’re not,’ I laugh.

‘Yes, I am,’ he affirms, crossing his arms across his chest.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

He scowls at me.

‘Oh, jeez, you’re not kidding. I mean - that’s not a bad thing, it's actually really cool, it's just unexpected. Like who is a successful youtuber, y’know?’

‘Mandy and Martin are, too,’ he adds humorlessly. I feel myself digging a deeper hole with every word I say, stammering as I try to explain myself.

‘I was surprised because that's a crazy freaking job - it’s every kid’s dream, no?’

He cocks an eyebrow, glaring at me wordlessly.

I feel my caution slip away. What do I care if I offend him? 

‘Still not a great excuse to be unnecessarily loud,’ I mutter under my breath.

He grins amusedly, shaking his head gently as he slips out of the door.

*

Food. A fairly important thing in life - one which I was completely lacking. I had an urgent need for a supermarket trip - and a lazy Sunday morning was the perfect time to do so.

I step out of my flat, balancing my cup of coffee and my reusable bags as I fiddle with the lock. 

I hear a faint, mocking laugh from behind me.

‘Just stop,’ Hamzah’s deep voice mutters, sidling beside me and taking the keys from my fumbling hands. For a brief moment, our hands touched - his skin was the darkest colour of honey, its blazing heat eliciting a shock through my body. His dark eyes snapped to mine momentarily, his emotion indiscernible as he locked my door. His hair was tousled and his curls unruly, giving me the expression that he had just woken up. I felt a compulsion to speak, attempting to quell the intensity of the moment.

‘Why are you up so early?’ I ask, eyeing him up and down. I registered the length of his shorts, my stomach involuntarily flipping as my gaze absorbed the expanse of his exposed brown skin from his mid-thigh down to his ankles. Even in his half-asleep state, he was frustratingly handsome - his indifference increasing his attractiveness.

When I met his eyes again, he was smirking, an incredulous expression on his face.

‘Did you just check me out?’ He said amusedly.

I flushed, stammering as I scoffed at the idea.

‘Just answer my question, stop deflecting.’ I say, diverting the topic.

‘We’re filming a podcast episode.’

A wicked smile contorts my face.

‘Now that has to be a joke,’

He frowns.

‘Why don’t you believe a word I say, y/n? Why would I lie about that?’

‘No way you have a podcast. What do you mean by ‘we’?’

‘Martin and I. We do it together, mainly. What’s so wrong with that?’

I laugh, looking up at his face. He wore a genuine expression, defensive and proud.

‘Nothing’s wrong with it, podcaster.’

He sighs, walking toward the staircase.

‘Why do you say it like it’s derogatory?’

*

The supermarket trip was successful - getting back home was the frustrating part. Toronto traffic was almost impenetrable at the best of times, and a local event increased the amount of drivers by tenfold. It took almost an hour to travel the five mile journey from the shop back to the flat - by the end of which I was thoroughly annoyed.

Finally pulling into the car park, I immediately spotted the one vacant space conveniently close to the building’s entrance. I smiled to myself triumphantly, driving toward it intently. Instantaneously, a black car pulled around the corner and swung right into the space.

I instinctively pressed my horn, blaring angrily at the conceited car that stole my spot. I pulled up closer toward it, scowling into the tinted window. It began to roll down, and in the driver's seat sat a beautiful yet infuriating man with a head of dark curls.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I mutter, rolling down my window.

I lean out of the car, locking eyes with him.

‘You stole my spot, asshole!’ I shout, fixing him with my angry glare.

‘I was here first!’ Hamzah shouts back over the mechanical noises of our running cars. ‘I’ve been parking here for months, girl. You’re the newbie,’ He shrugs.

I hold up a middle finger out of the window as I speed away from him - the noise of his victorious laughter reverberating in my head.

————————*:･ﾟ✧*:——————————

[limerence-17]

leave the door open

based on: number 7.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

masterlist

warnings: 18+ mdni p in v (bc mentioned,) explicit language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

word count: 1.6k

A/N: all characters are 18+ here. obx season 4 didn't have to make rafe this sexy but here we are and i hope u all enjoy <3 also psa yes i know kinktober is over but i feel kinky all year and what about it

i wasn't going to touch myself. in fact i wasn't even thinking about it, and yet here i was about to spend the night at my best friend sarah cameron's house and all i could think about was the way her older brother looked coming into the house after getting off his motorbike. the way his hair swayed as he ran his hands through it, and the way he grunted as he walked by us in the kitchen.

he didn't even make eye contact and yet i couldn't stop myself from staring right at him as he walked by.

but here i was laying in the guest room, in this giant house that i still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my best friend lived in and all i could think about was god damn rafe cameron.

────── 〔✿〕──────

that night, it was rather warm out, but i was feeling tired, dazed perhaps. sarah had come into my room, told me john b wanted to see her which was predictable as usual and snuck out through the guest room window. she told me she'd be back by 7 am which meant i'd be spending the night on my own. i didn't mind it but it could get lonely.

the sun was setting, and i felt strange spending such a lovely summer evening inside getting ready for bed but i suppose that was alright considering i spent the entire day out and about.

i nustled my legs smoothly against the satin sheets. something about staying at the cameron's house always reminded me of staying in some nice hotel. everything just smelt clean, like oranges and fresh air.

my shorts rode up my ass slightly, but i paid hardly any notice to them. it was so hot out anyway. i turned over, glancing outside the window. it was quiet out, too quiet and yet my mind wandered back to rafe in the kitchen. his hair falling ever so slightly in front of his eyes, the way he smelt. like sea salt and expensive cologne.

i couldn't help but shift my body so that my back laid against the bed, slowly arching my back as my hand glided to my shorts, placing soft slow circles against my clit. slowly, but i applied more pressure the more i circled. i couldn't help but let out a moan and had to cover my. mouth as i continued on. i wanted to take off my shorts as i thought about rafe. his hands, his hair, god his hands.

"holy fuck...rafe..." i moaned out in a hushed whisper.

my eyes kept closed, but my fingers continued to roam beneath the sheets until i heard a creak that was louder than i would've thought. i stopped dead in my tracks, moving both of my hands up over the sheets pulling them up swiftly to my chin.

oh my god it was rafe cameron. standing there with his zip up sweater, and clean cut pants. but the way he looked at me, well i couldn't tell what he was thinking but his eyes were wide. very wide.

"shit i didn't mean-"

"swear to god i wasn't listening or anything," said rafe dumbly. he ran his right hand over his mouth, looking at the ground.

"whatever you think you saw or heard or whatever the fuck you didn't rafe!" i was too embarrassed to muster up anything else. i just held the covers high.

"hey it's no big deal seriously... i mean i jerked one off like six hours ago so like-"

"jesus rafe, i mean it! delete this from your mind or i swear to god i'll-"

"see the thing is i can't really delete that from my mind. you moaning my name and all..." rafe closed the door behind him and took a few steps towards the bed.

"oh fuck you heard that?" i was mortified. just mortified. what was wrong with me?

"now the thing is...you're my sister's best friend so so like... i mean that's kinda fucked up-you thinking about me while you touch yourself and shit," rafe said in a drawl, using his hands to express it. rafe was now sitting at the edge of the bed. his eyes were glancing around quickly, his thoughts clearly racing.

i lowered the sheets but made sure that they were still just above my chest. but holy fuck, i was soaking wet now.

"but hey it makes sense- the way you look at me, always thought it was in my head and shit but-"

"it's not." i interrupt him. the more he looks at me the more i just picture his tongue in my mouth and i'm starting to get needy, my legs are clenching together now.

rafe's eyebrows raised, and he froze for a moment. but then his hands slowly crept up the sheets grabbing my thigh. i gasped feeling his hand there. his eyes widened, watching my expression.

"this what you were thinking about, huh?" his hand crept up agonizingly slow. i couldn't get a word out. just stiffled moans until eventually the sheets were down below my chest.

i let out a longing sigh as i felt his sturdy hand cup my pussy, using his other hand to move the bedsheet off completely, exposing me completely.

he looked up, asking for approval as his hands slowly tugged at the hems of my shorts and i nodded quickly.

"yes rafe."

rafe obliged immediately, pulling my shorts down, i pulled my tank top over my head. my legs lifted in the air as he threw them onto the floor. he slowly separated my legs, ogling at my obviously wet cunt.

he used his middle and ring finger to slowly trace a line up against my folds and i gasped at the touch.

"god damn my sister's best friend is a little slut huh? you're wet as shit and that's all for me huh?"

all i could let out was an innocent "mhmm," since the feeling of his fingers tracing against my folds was driving me lust drunk.

"yeah... i'm gonna need to taste you...." he said, now crouching so that his head was between my thighs.

"wait rafe-" rafe stopped immediately, glancing up at me.

"take off your shirt."

rafe smirked, obliging as he pulled it over his head, and i felt my eyelids grow heavy from lust as i looked at his chest. jesus, he was ridiculously hot. my best friend's ridiculously hot older brother was about to eat me out.

this time, more aggressively he separated my thighs and before i could comprehend it his lips were against my pussy. his tongue moved up and down, circles against my clit. as if it was instinct, i gripped at the bedframe. but it didn't last long as he gripped my hips, pulling me in closer to him. my thighs tightened against his head and it felt insane. i'd never had someone eat me out like this. so hungrily and quickly. he was incredible.

"shit you taste fucking unreal-" he grunted and gasped before licking me once more.

rafe's tongue moved quickly but he pulled away, moving so that he was now on top of me. he made eye contact before inserting a finger into me and i gasped. it was only a few pumps, hard and fast before he pulled out.

"taste yourself-" he said and i obliged, sucking on his finger. rafe licked his teeth, letting out a low hum of a laugh as he watched.

"you are fucking wild-" he said. my hands reached towards his pants and he looked down and then back up at me.

"what- you wanna feel me too?"

"rafe i wanna feel all of you- i want you inside me."

that set him off and he quickly reached to his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs. he was hung, like way more than i ever would've imagined. and hard too.

"looks like i'm not the only one whose this turned on either huh?"

rafe let out a sarcastic laugh "ha...ha...."

he got on top once more, this time pinning my legs higher in the air.

"yeah fuck i need to see all of you when i fuck you," rafe commanded.

"you're on that girl pill or whatever it is right?" rafe asked. i let out a quiet snicker.

"birth control, rafe? yeah i am," i said running my hands through my hair.

rafe nodded quickly, obviously thankful since it was clear neither of us brought condoms.

he positioned himself so that his tip was directly against my folds and then slowly pushed himself into me. i gasped, immediately reaching my fingernails against his back.

rafe grunted as his pumps started slow, but eventually quickened up. he moved quickly, thrusting and grunting into me. i let out stifled moans and he clasped his hand over my mouth.

"hey...hey... you've gotta be more... quiet than that... holy....fuck" rafe moaned between thrusts.

his paced quickened, his strong arms now moving to my waist as he pulled me to the edge of the bed. he thrusted deafening quick and i clenched my fist placing it against my mouth in a stupid attempt to silence myself. he was too fucking good at this. too strong, too fast, too fucking hot.

"don't stop! rafe jesus i'm gonna cum!"

"shit... me fucking too..."

it only took a few more thrusts before i let out a stiffled sigh and rafe collapsed, falling on top of me. both of us sweating, exhaling and my hands running through his hair.

he pulled away, laying beside me. i turned over to meet his gaze, my hands still running through his hair. he looked back at me.

"alright round two-"

[eleadore]

top five scenes/lines/moments from drarry fic

rookie moves by peu_a_peu - not gonna lie, every single scene. but you put a gun to my head and make me pick just one, i'll pick two -

“You should’ve died, Draco,” Nott snarled. “If you had a shred of honor you’d have died.” “Well guess what, Theodore?” Malfoy said, with a horrible, mocking smile. “I don’t, and I lived.” Nott stared daggers into Malfoy. His hands went behind the armchair. Harry knew instantly: he was about to do something stupid. There was no time to do anything but give Malfoy a hard shove just as Nott cried, “Avada Kedavra!” A jet of green lightning cracked through the spot where Malfoy had just been standing, charging the air, hitting the wall with a terrible explosion. “What are you doing, Theodore?!” Malfoy wailed as he ducked for cover behind the couch. “We’re throwing AKs at ten in the morning?!”

jesus i've read it 800 times and i am as we speak gasping for air

McGonagall turned, and absorbed the other half of we. “Mr. Malfoy,” she said, quelling unsuccessfully what sounded like considerable shock. “Auror Malfoy,” Malfoy corrected her. “Professor.” “Well.” She blinked a number of times before speaking diplomatically. “I can’t say it’s the career I’d have predicted for you. But one’s former students do turn up in surprising fields.” Malfoy smiled the shit-eating smile of someone who couldn’t be given detention. Who was, in fact, medically calm. “It’s a calling.”

running on air by eleventy7 - you already know

Do you remember when we were eleven? Let's go back to that. I'll throw Remembralls into the sky and you can try to catch them. Sometimes I think you can just keep my wand. I think of all the Dark spells I performed, all the Unforgiveables I tried to cast with it.  But then I remember when I was eleven years old, learning Lumos and casting mending charms, and it's hard to let go of that. So give me my wand, or give me a timeturner.

trouble, my old friend by tepre - the one with the fucking buttons

He says, “Tell me,” and Harry – running low on sleep, confused and aroused and altogether unfamiliar to this new world of desire – can’t quite keep himself in check. He wants, for a moment, simply wants, knows not what to do with it, where to direct it, and the feeling bubbles like wild magic. He realises a fraction too late that no, not like, but magic – staring at the spot where Malfoy’s scar disappears below the high collar of his shirt. The stiff hem of the doublet, buttoned shut over his Adam’s apple. With a small sound, the top button of the doublet pops open. Then the second, the third. Malfoy sucks in a breath.

ain't no friend of mine by lettered - when harry's being a little bitch and dog!draco simply will not stand for it

Potter slammed open the door. For a moment he just stared down at Draco with that annoying face of his, with the insane hair, and the disfigured scar. Then he yanked the slobbery scarf out of Draco's mouth, and said, low and tight, "Leave me the fuck alone, why don't you; don't you see I don't bloody care; I don't want anyone near me; I DON'T WANT YOU; I NEVER WANTED YOU; GO AWAY!" And Draco all the sudden remembered why he'd joined the Inquisition Squad. Potter in fifth year had been exactly like this and it was really annoying.

draco malfoy's substitute murder service by oknowkiss - the one where draco hands harry his business card

Harry reads the card again. Flips it over. Looks at Draco, watches him sip his tea. Notices one of his bra straps is showing. Reads the card a third time. Fails to make sense of anything at all. “Have you lost your goddamn fucking mind?” Harry snaps, throwing the card back at Draco. “What in the absolute shit is this?” “Did you read the card?” Draco asks. He tucks it back into his bra. “I feel like you’re asking questions that have all been answered by the card.”

bonus 1: if an injury is to be inflicted by shealwaysreads - when draco meets ron and hermione The Morning After

Draco’s smile threatened to bloom into genuine delight at the look on her face. He had dressed deliberately casually, forgoing his usual high-collared robes for a pair of charcoal grey trousers and a pale grey shirt; open at the collar to expose the mess Potter made of his neck and collarbones. She opened and shut her mouth twice, before Weasley broke the silence and stepped towards Draco, towing Granger along with him.

bonus 2: owl was well by fencer_x - when draco flies to the burrow bc he's "bored" and gets beat up by crookshanks

“Er,” Potter said, giving Draco a comfortable berth of several steps. “That was Crookshanks. Hermione’s cat. We’re gonna watch him while she and her folks are in Germany for the holiday to visit family in Dusseldorf.” He frowned to himself, brows knitting in confusion. “I thought he could see through Animagus transformations, though. I’m not sure why he’d attack—oh. Guess he recognised you.” Oh, indeed. Draco ran his fingers through his hair—he probably looked a fright now. “I suppose it’s going to hold a grudge against me for all nine of its lives, then.”

ask me top 5/10 anything

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[wastemanjohn]

fic masterlist

wincest and daddycest. follow the smell of dead doves under the cut :)

sam/dean:

when i'm down on your knees you're how i pray Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 13,703; Warnings: Incest

Summary: It’s not as if Sam doesn’t know what makes Dean tick, after all. He can’t have forgotten all the fantasies Dean has shared with him over the years, even the really nasty, violent ones that flushed Sam's cheeks a glaring scarlet, evoked awed responses like "Jesus, Dean, you’re really into stuff like that?" Dean didn't mind - quite liked watching Sam squirm, actually - and he'd long since accepted that he’d likely never get Sam on board with acting out the more grisly tales buried deep in his spank bank. But then again, Sam is different since he...

Dean still can’t use the words “Sam” and “died” together in the same sentence.

some unholy war

Rating: Explicit; 12,328 words; Warnings: Incest, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Somewhere between a bar fight and the end of the world, Sam and Dean learn to take care of each other again.

exit light

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 3,730; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Tonight doesn’t smooth over all the ways their lives are in ruins, hand back all that he and Dean have lost, atone for all the things it’s driven them to. It certainly doesn’t change the fact that one year from now, Dean is going to die. 

heart of a dog

Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 2k, Warnings: Incest, Sam is 17

Summary: They were supposed to be going to the fucking laundromat. But that was almost four hours ago, and Sam can smell the musty sweat wafting through from where their clothes are still festering in the trunk. He should really have learned by now not to trust Dean, when he insists on his little bar detours on the way - just a quick one, Sammy, don’t be such a little bitch. The thing is, the chances of it being a quick one are always about as slim as Sam’s patience right now; and a quick one always evolves into half the damn bar when a pretty young thing catches Dean’s eye.

Her name is Daisy. Dean’s probably forgotten that by now. He’s definitely forgotten about Sam. 

♡♡♡♡

john/dean and sam/dean:

what it is

Rating: Explicit; 48,258 words; Warnings: Non Con Elements, Incest, Canon Typical Violence

Summary: Everything that has ever gone wrong for Sam and Dean starts and ends with John.

i don't mean to suggest that i loved you the best

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1,930; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Dean’s need is a dark pit, a bleak, bottomless thing, and that’s the pull. That’s the lure, for John. People who need the way Dean does, people who want to crawl inside the ones they love and live there forever, they’re easy to control. They’ll do anything for you. John finds that fucking irresistible.

Sam hates his father. But he understands him perfectly.

with new bones in your closet

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4,890; Warnings: Incest, BDSM

Summary: It’s almost funny. It’s almost too predictable that Dean would do this for John, be this for John, take his submission to all too literal levels.

destructive love is all i am

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 604; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Things like this don't just go away.

love is

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2323; Warnings: Incest, Non Con

Summary: Love is all you are.

shimmer and rot

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3012, Warnings: Non Con, implied CSA

Summary: That witching hour loneliness can eat you alive.

snuff

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4552; Warnings: Incest, Homicidal thoughts, Sam is 17

Summary: There's nothing good on TV, and Sam's contemplating killing his father again.

the world was so easily won

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3153; Warnings: Dub Con Elements, Incest, Violence

Summary: The bites are about five days old now. They’re not healing well, skin-split punctures and raised pinks and purples. Any forming scabs have chafed raw all over again under Dean’s clothes. And Sam’s running his fingers over the worst ones, almost gentle, like a doctor examining an open wound. There’s nothing at all gentle about Sam’s rage-tight mouth though. Nor his mutter of, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

♡♡♡♡

johndean

toss me a breath when you hold me down

Rating: Explicit; 1624 words; Warnings: Incest, consensual non consent

Summary: It's never been quite like this.

and if you crave it then you know that you are injured

Explicit; 3593 words; Warnings: Non Con Elements and a very nasty John

Summary: He doesn’t even flinch when John’s hand comes down on his thigh. Doesn’t pull away when John flutters his lips over the nape of his boy’s neck and whispers, “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”

when i hear your lips make a sound

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2682; Warnings: Incest

Summary: It's a damn risky thing to do, with Bobby asleep upstairs. But Dean never disobeys his father, and he’s horny as all hell. It’s not a prime combination for sensible decision making.

i heard love is blind

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 12,764; Warnings: Incest; addition of John/OMC

Summary: There are a few shadowy figures on the sidewalk, the night’s offerings left on the shelf. They're all boys, their frames slight and their legality dubious. They look up at the sight of John’s headlights, but he keeps his head forward and carries on driving. He’s seen exactly what he’s looking for just up the street.

The boy is alone. He's a cookie cutter street whore, all mesh and tight pants. John can see the ghostly entrails of his breath, the skinny arms wrapped around his chest like chains. When John winds down his window, the kid steps forward in a tired, non-urgent sort of way. His lack of pretence is appealing.

John checks him over to make doubly sure that he's the right choice. He’s tall. His hipbones jut a little, distorting his tight pants, the waistband flapping over his barely there stomach. His hair is a few shades light of brown; it's short, but chunky and uneven, like he's cut it himself without a mirror. When John peers closer, he can see that the kid's lips are full and pink. That definitely helps. He's not to John's exact specifications, especially with his completely absent bulk, but he'll do. Beggars, choosers, all that noise.

and you learn how to settle for what you get

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3,163; Warnings: Dub Con, Incest

Summary: Yet John chooses this, over and over again. John loves Dean more than he loves anything.

sharp teeth, dry heat

Rating: Explicit; Words: 2504; Warnings: Incest, grief (addition of dean/ofc)

Summary: Your world was terrifying, and John knew how hard he was to love.

someone forever warm

Rating: Explicit; Words: 4290; Warnings: Incest

Summary: He takes a moment to enjoy the thought that John has slayed the monster, now he’s come to claim his prize.

trade

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 771; Warnings: Non Con Elements

Summary: You'll hide from mirrors until the marks fade away.

nowhere boy

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2528; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: The true meaning of Christmas is family, and all that crap. Everyone always forgets about Jesus. Probably a good thing, Dean thinks, as he adjusts the red ribbon around his neck with its dumb little bow and checks himself out one last time in the smudged bathroom mirror. Jesus definitely wouldn’t approve of what he’s about to do.

quiet room

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1878; Archive Warnings: Non Con, Incest, BDSM

Summary: This is what love looks like.

the dark is light enough

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3219; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: It's hard, with the lights on. Lights on, with his boy so close John can hear his pulse; see the freckles dusting the tops of his thighs, the strip of fine hair from his belly button down to his groin; pert pink nipples on a chest that blushes from the middle out when he's excited, all these intimate details John shouldn't know; but he sits with it, he breathes it in and he lives with it. The closeness; the vulnerability; like an exposed nerve.

Yeah, it's hard, hard to face this. Who they are, what they've become. But John isn't doing it to punish himself. He's doing this for Dean.

yesterday's hymn

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1323; Warnings: Non Con; past CSA: addition of original male character

Summary: A bad man doesn't pawn his soul so his son can live.

so many moving parts

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 7302; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: And sure, no one’s actually said the word anniversary, but they've never had a day like this before.

when the stiff wind blows

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8625; Warnings: Incest, BDSM

Summary: Dean is in tune with John's patterns and emotions, even some four states outside of their blast radius; and when John withdraws, Dean chases. Dean knows his absence, his distance, when John is not fucking handling it. And somewhere along the way - he learned how to help.

then leave me the bones

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 6816; Warnings: Heavy Angst, Incest, Dub Con

Summary: John’s moods are like a slow growing tumor. Easy to miss at first. Causing all kinds of problems when it's too late.

stutter

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 1655; Warnings: Incest

Summary: You know there is so much harm Dad could do in these moments, if he were so inclined. He as good as says it himself sometimes, with his quiet promises of I'd never hurt you, Dean, like a pre-emptive hail Mary for his sin.

♡♡♡♡

johndeanna:

now bleed for me

Rating: Explicit; Words: 3689; Warnings: Incest, Gunplay

Summary: John comes back unsteady, whisky on his tongue, scents of tobacco and cheap perfume clinging to the jacket Deanna loves to wear, because it’s so heavy and big on her, it smothers her like a hug. My dad, Deanna thinks, broken in all the same spots she is, yet so remote. My dad.

i've loved all i've needed, love

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4602; Warnings: Incest

Summary: She never seemed to realize that her daddy's a piece of shit. John hates the way she found out.

this dream is for you (so pay the price)

Rating: Explicit; Words: 2,333; Warnings: Incest

Summary: So John comes to her, during that weird time that's not really morning or night, comes to her after they've finished half a bottle of Jack and a pack of Lucky Strike between them, comes to her with everything on his face that sits heavy and acidic in Deanna's heart.

all you wanna do

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 10,178; Warnings: Incest, Misogyny

Summary: For the prompt: Deanna’s boyfriend gives her a red lingerie set for Christmas that she opens in front of John (optional: Sam). After OMC is sent home with a chastisement, John makes her show them off to him. Or, Deanna has started dating and John is a fucking creep about it.

a simple motion

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2353; Warnings: Incest

Summary: But watching her - watching her is different. Watching isn't touching, and there's no law against that.

i'll be your mirror

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2551; Warnings: Incest, Misogyny

Summary: The girl in his bed isn’t quite his wife, but in the glowy relative darkness she has room to morph. 

one day like this

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 6182; Warnings: Incest, grief

Summary: Sam goes through his father's old photos.

♡♡♡♡

sam/john

coming up roses everywhere

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 14618; Warnings: Incest, Sam is 17

Summary: Where John wasn't planning to snoop around Sam's laptop, but his boy seems to be hiding something.

♡♡♡♡

john/dean and sam/john

don't say you need me when you leave and you leave again (samjohn only quietly implied)

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8,224; Warnings: Non Con Elements; implied sexual abuse

Summary: Maybe Dad felt the kind of loneliness that ate away at your soul until you lost sight of the fact that you were even alive, maybe Dad needed to grab the nearest willing body and pull it close, close.

♡♡♡♡

dean/mary

this be the verse

Rating: Explicit; Word Count 6822; Warnings: Big Non Con warning for this one. Additional pairings: johndean

Summary: There are a lot of things that Dean doesn’t tell Mary about her husband. It’s best that John stays 27 in her head forever, like Hendrix or something, young and beautiful and fucked up in a pretty unremarkable way.

♡♡♡♡

dean/fem!Sam

when the earth moves again

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1947; Warnings: Incest, somnophilia

Summary: It was something. Something that felt good; something that some part of him was willing to give her, even if it wasn't conscious, even if it wasn't much. And hell, Sam didn't have much in life that made her feel good.

♡♡♡♡

sam/fem!dean

hunky dory

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 4917; Warnings: Incest, pregnancy resulting from incest

Summary: Deanna went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of Sam, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.

Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.

It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it

♡♡♡♡

john/original male character

safe in the dark (how can you see?)

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2492; Archive Warnings: Non Con Elements

Summary: Because maybe there was something about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.

Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.

[avelera]

Thinking about blasphemy and Good Omens right now and I can't help but notice an interesting phenomenon around some discussions I've seen about the Second Coming and Jesus Christ being a character in S3.

Namely, I see much more underlying discomfort around the possibility of the show poking fun at the figure of Jesus Christ than I do with any other prediction discussion or discussion around religion in the show.

On the one hand, I completely understand how poking fun at the Antichrist dogma from Revelations doesn't feel particularly blasphemous, where poking fun at Jesus does. The Antichrist is a stock character of horror at this point. Many more disrespectful teams than Gaiman and Pratchett have played with that story. It's barely even considered poking fun at Christianity to have Adam, the son of Satan, be a good kid in Good Omens. But Jesus is a very important figure to Christians all over the world. There are devout Christians who truly love Jesus and no one wants to be a jerk by just outright disrespecting a figure that is dear to so many.

But on the other hand, expecting Good Omens to not make fun of Jesus is a bit absurd to me. Literally saying, "I don't think the satirical religion show is going to satirize religion because it might upset people." Gaiman hasn't shied away from messing with religion or religious bigots before. He gleefully shrugged off attacks over God being a woman, or Adam and Eve being portrayed by people of color.

The Book of Job is lampooned in Season 2. I know it doesn't feel like it to many people here, but the reinterpretation of the Book of Job in S2 definitely registers as blasphemy on some religious scales. It is satirizing a religious text after all.

Saying that angels and demons fall in love and worse, have that love be portrayed by actors of the same sex could be seen as blasphemy at the very least on the level of saying God is a woman. And by the way, it's not like these religious texts say "God is whatever you want the entity to be" or "God is a woman if that makes you happy". Hell no, the Bible is extremely damn clear on God being male. The official position of the Catholic Church is that God is male. Official Catholic dogma is incredibly anti-female in terms of inherent holiness, women cannot become priests, even nuns are dependent on a priest to deliver the Sacraments, it's a huge deal and they are not planning to change any time soon and it is totally unambiguous.

Making God explicitly female might not seem like a big deal since films like Dogma, another religious satire, did it in the 90s but to True Believes in the official doctrine, that is a form of blasphemy.

Good Omens is by definition a blasphemous work. How offensively blasphemous it is really depends on the devoutness of the viewer. And I find it interesting the extent to which there's something of a knee jerk, "Oh they won't do that!" in terms of further satirizing religion in the show about religious satire. As if Jesus hasn't been satirized in other mainstream movies before like the aforementioned Dogma or Life of Brian.

And here's the thing, my personal opinion is? Blasphemy is good! Blasphemy laws on the books mean it's ok to punish, hurt, or even kill a person for making fun of religion or just doing the religion wrong. Human progress has been frozen in place by blasphemy laws, sciences have progressed when blasphemy laws ease or often while deliberately concealing their efforts from authorities in places where blasphemy laws or laws that were otherwise based on the dominant religion exist.

If anything, I am actually a bit uncomfortable with the idea that Good Omens should hold back on lampooning a figure like Jesus Christ. If devout Christians will make laws that determine what other humans can do with their bodies based on their religion, then their religion should absolutely be open to outright mockery without punishment or ramification to anyone. Of course on an individual level I wouldn't wish to be offensive to someone sincerely religious but at the same time, I am also violently anti-censorship of any kind. And blasphemy and religious mockery are often right at the heart of censorship debates.

The world is a better place when we can openly mock religion.

I'm not going to caveat that as an opinion. Being able to openly and without fear discuss, criticize, and mock religion is an incredibly important part of any free society. The battles over this right have been vicious and bloody and are actively ongoing around the world. Just as an example, anti-blasphemy laws were on the books in Ireland until 2020, there was a huge campaign to have them removed because other countries were pointing to them as an example of why they should keep and exercise such laws.

My point is that I suppose this is something of hyperbole or alarmist or overly strident. I can understand people wanting to be decent about not openly mocking a figure of such importance to so many like Jesus. But quite honestly? I hope Good Omens does whatever it pleases with mocking Jesus. I hope they don't hold back. I hope people remember that being able to mock religion is really important, especially when representatives of that religion are actively trying to clamp down on the rights of others.

And honestly, if religious people are offended they should just not watch or they should develop a thicker skin if they expose themselves to such discourse. Religion and Christianity in particular is an active part of the public sphere. It is worthy of discussion. Public discourse often includes mockery, especially of the powerful and of powerful forces that steer the course of nations, like Christianity.

And I think it's important for Good Omens fans, who are a very progressive group, not to cherry pick and moralize over what satire or blasphemy is permitted. All satire should be permitted. All blasphemy should be permitted. The religious bigots don't care if you think God being a woman is ok but making fun of Jesus isn't. It's all the same, anything but glowing praise is criticism to some of these forces. Open discussion is far more important and yes, that includes mockery, and silly discussions in a silly show about an angel and a demon who avert the Apocalypse and fall in love.

[lovecanyon]

INSTAGRAM BLURB

MASTERLIST | PATREON

liked by harryfan3, harryfan7 and 402,173 others

enews After Harry Styles and Y/N L/N’s make out in Tokyo, Styles is finally seen back in Los Angeles. He was spotted leaving Y/N’s Los Angeles home just last night sparking up more dating rumors.

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harryfan10 i am having a breakdown

harryfan5 I’M SORRY BUT Y/N IS SO GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL

harryfan8 kinda loving the idea of them together 🤭

harryfan4 i don’t know if i want him or her…

harryfan6 best news ever honestly

harryfan9 BOYFRIENDRRYYYYYY???

harryfan11 i need y/n and harry together 🙏

harryfan13 leaving her house??? yeah they definitely are dating

harryfan15 YES YES YES

harryfan17 why is she so pretty 😭

liked by harrystyles, florencepugh and 1,809,266 others

yourinstagram date night ❤️

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harryfan14 with who…i’m afraid to ask…

harryfan16 MR. HARRY STYLES???

pillowpersonpp Gorgeous! Gorgeous! Gorgeous!

yourinstagram i truly adore you s!!!

harryfan18 SARAH OH MY GODDD

harryfan20 i’m contacting my lawyer 🧎‍♀️

emmalouisecorrin Jesus, you are so beautiful 💖

harryfan23 @harrystyles do not fumble the bag…or else…

tomskogs Literally drop dead gorgeous

harryfan19 HARRY LIKED???!?!

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harryflorals HARRY LEAVING Y/N’S HOME (AGAIN) THIS MORNING!

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harryfan27 NOT HIM GETTING PICKED UP

harryfan29 harry really got caught leaving y/n’s house by paparazzi again 😭

harryfan22 this is too funny

harryfan25 long live y/n and harry 🤞

harryfan28 PLEASE I CAN’T WITH HIM

harryfan30 i am never forgetting this 🤭

harryfan26 top 10 harry moments

harryfan32 he really is getting caught left and right LMAOO

harryfan34 first the tokyo make out session and now this

harryfan31 THE (AGAIN) IS KILLING ME SHUT UPPPPP LMAOO

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ynupdates Y/N attended a VIP party for a golf tournament with Harry Styles recently!

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harryfan38 YOU ARE LYINGGG

harryfan36 they are going to places together already 😢

harryfan39 i love this for harry honestly

harryfan37 right he seems to like y/n a lot 😭

harryfan40 frankly i might become a y/n fan…who knows

harryfan44 MOTHER

harryfan46 so you are telling me harry and y/n went together 🧎‍♀️

harryfan41 i am riding so hard for them

harryfan43 going crazy for her

harryfan45 y/n is what we needed 😌

liked by harrystyles, dualipa and 99,840 others

tomskogs She!

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harryfan42 NOT TOMMY POSTING Y/N…THIS MEANS SHE IS REALLY DATING HARRY

harryfan47 forever a y/n stan 💅

glenne_azoff My favorite beauty

harryfan49 I LOVE HER

florencepugh What a stunner!!!

harryfan51 does y/n know she already runs the harry fandom 😭

harry_lambert GODDESS

harryfan48 tom posting this is so real of him

pillowpersonpp Never getting over y/n

harryfan50 relatable sarah

liked by harryfan52, harryfan54 and 508,262 others

hsnews HARRY AND Y/N L/N IN LA TODAY!

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harryfan56 i just predicted the future

harryfan58 OUR MOM & DAD 🤞

harryfan53 WHAAAATTTT (not complaining though)

harryfan55 so much is happening

harryfan57 WE ARE GETTING FED WITH BOYFRIEND HARRY THANK GOD

harryfan59 all we ever wanted 🙏

harryfan60 this is everything to me omg

harryfan62 @yourinstagram you win this round

harryfan65 stan them for clear skin!

harryfan61 harry in love? we love to see it!

harryfan63 jesus take the wheel

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harrystyles Lover.

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harryfan70 I NEED A CIGARETTE

harryfan74 harry confirming he’s in his lover era is all we ever needed

yourinstagram I love you sue

harrystyles I love you more, my love.

harryfan76 someone get me a gun

harryfan71 WAIT THEY ARE SO CUTE 😭

annetwist How beautiful is she!

harryfan74 i need a man like harry to post me like this

kidharpoon ❤️❤️

harryfan78 y/n truly is the most beautiful person ever

pillowpersonpp Please keep fawning over each other and never stop

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia @b-reads-things

[heavenlymorals]

Biblical References in the RDR Games: Part 2

You guys seemed to LOVE my original biblical references post for Red Dead so I am here to post some more because there are SO MANY. And like before, I am aware that some of these may be complete reaches, but it's my blog and I do what I want 🙃

Enjoy babes ❤️

@headersandheelers @secretcheesecakenacho Since you guys wanted to get tagged ❤️🤭

Arthur and Dutch mirror Moses and Pharaoh in chapter six. Arthur begs Dutch to let his "chosen" go, who are the people who he believes have a chance in living without the baggage of the gang (the women and John and his family). Dutch refuses to let them go, which creates the biggest conflict in chapter 6.

Arthur kicking out Strauss gives me heavy Matthew 21:12-14. Basically, Jesus kicks out loan sharks and sellers from a temple designated as a house of worship where people can be helped. Their presence destroyed the sanctity and the purity of the temple. Both the gang and the temple existed originally to help folks, but the presence of people like loan sharks destroy that original mission. So yes, Arthur kicking out Strauss is a parallel to Jesus kicking out the loan sharks from the temple.

The color for high honor is blue while the color for low honor is red. Blue in the bible is very often associated with heaven and God. Red in the bible represents the flesh that humans are trapped in during their time on earth, which can then correlate back to sin and violent.

Micah was a prophet in the bible who is most known for predicting the fall Jerusalem. Micah in the game also predicts the fall of the gang in the sense that he was the one who caused it. The name Micah also means he who is like God, so the irony is kinda funny.

John being able to see the cracks in the gang before many of the other characters could very well be a reference to this passage: "For you will know the Truth and the Truth will set you Free" - John 8:32. Abigail in RDR also says this which is a reference to this passage: "You knew the truth, John. And they hated you for it."

Just another passage that reminds of Arthur's redemption and the whole searching for peace thing: "Turn away from evil and do good. Search for peace, and work to maintain it" Psalm 34:14

The mission "A Fisher of Men" is a reference to Matthew 4:18-20. "While walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him." Of course, beyond just the action of fishing with Jack, this is also a parallel to Arthur's empathetic yet still firm style of talking to Jack. "It's about time you earned your keep." "You got to stick at things, Jack."

The mission "The Sheep and the Goats." In Matthew 25:31-46, it describes how God will separate people in two groups. The "sheep" will inherit heaven and the "goats" will be damned. You can connect that to the gang as well. The sheep are the ones who leave Dutch while the goats stay with him and become damned or a shameful version of who they once were.

Also note in the epilogue how John says he doesn't like goats and chooses sheep as the first animals to raise on his ranch. That could also connect to Matthew 25:31-46.

The mission name "Do Not Seek Absolution" is really interesting to me because it's the first biblical mission name that could either be a reference to scripture, which I'm thinking Deuteronomy 12:13 in the sense that one shouldn't offer their praise or worship to false gods who won't answer prayers (think Arthur and Dutch and how Arthur was still following Dutch after the gang lost it's original image) or a rejection ofa the Christian mindset of the time. Absolution is the idea of the promise of having your sins forgiven by God. It might be saying that Arthur should try to redeem himself by his action towards the person rather than his guilt towards a higher power.

Molly getting burnt rather than having a funeral is less a biblical detail but more a cultural detail. Though cremation wasn't really condemned in the Bible, the passages about being buried in the ground or in tombs was the people's standards in how they wanted their dead body to be handled due to religious reasoning. Whether or not Molly is Protestant or culturally Catholic (I lean the latter), the fact that Grimshaw asks for her body to be burnt just adds so much more weight to how cruelly traitors of the gang were dealt with

Love this stuff sm

[ashfae]

Things I would like to happen/not happen in Good Omens Season 3

Small things in no particular order, just to put this out here, in a few years I'll come back and laugh: - More about the Fall - Never ever finding out what Crowley's angel name was. I genuinely don't want to know and especially don't want it to have been important. - Eric getting to be badass for once. - Muriel getting to be badass for once. - Eric and Muriel coming to a similar Aziraphale and Crowley "....look does anyone know what's going on? I don't think so. We are very small in comparison to these huge things how about we work together a bit trying to figure it out?" type of thing. - Finding out WTF is up with Crowley's spotty memory. Has he been made to forget things? I am curious. - The crux point of the season being Aziraphale needing finally once and for all to choose between Crowley and Heaven/recognizing that goodness is not something that can be mandated/all that jazz - More of Aziraphale's diaries - A hug. I'd like another kiss, I don't want smut (happy to keep that for fanfic and let them be platonic onscreen), I do absolutely want them to have a big "oh god I missed you so much" hug. - Crowley having left London. I strongly suspect he's gone abroad, feels like that was foreshadowed in the magician's wheel scene. I favour Sin City/Las Vegas for hilarity but the Spanish Riviera for the alcohol. - Much as I'd like to see all the human characters again (from s1 and s2) I doubt anyone except Muriel by proximity will have been in contact with any of them and I feel their part in the overall narrative arc is complete. We'll get new ones though. - Jesus Christ to show up for the Second Coming and promptly not do what anyone expects or wants him to do, and I sincerely hope I can't predict it either. Also man would I love it if he's called by Yeshua/Yeshoshua. - For Christ's actions and choices to be ultimately less important than Aziraphale's. Yes, I really want Aziraphale and his love for Crowley to be the primary mover of this season. - Crowley to say "Ngk". "Heigh ho" would give me the greatest joy but "Ngk" would be sufficient. - For God to NOT just show up and sort it all out and preferably to not appear at all though Francis McDormand narrating will always be a joy to me. - A return of Gabriel and Beelzebub. Actually this seems inevitable given everyone's entirely justified love of Jon Hamm. I have my own pet theories of what the plot of season three will be but I'll keep that to fanfic out of respect for Wait And See. Edit: I forgot to add, FOR THE LOVE OF SOMEONE DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT THIS OR LINK HIM. I don't want him to answer questions! Me wildly speculating is NOT the same as wanting answers, and besides, he wouldn't answer anyway, and rightly so!