#except they ACTUALLY FUCKING FIX IT ON BOTH SIDES.

[t4talibrations]

I am honestly obsessed with Garrus' romance in ME2, starting from the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be romanceable but everyone was so horny for this alien guy that they just gave it to us.

He's your best bro, your number one ally, he basically admires you so much that he tries to imitate you, he's so ride or die for you it's impossible to ignore. He clearly sees you as his superior because the military mindset is so ingrained in him but he's also just your best friend. Except he tries to keep it cool so bad, acting like he's just glad to be back on your team and ignoring that he basically failed at being like you, and it's clearly a mask.

From the second he pops up on screen he's acting all suave and smooth and confident for no fucking reason considering he's probably a wreck. He never flirts directly but you can always tell he's holding back some of his undying admiration for you just so he doesn't seem as desperate as he is.

In a fit of complete unprofessionalism you open up the possibility of a more physically intimate relationship that goes beyond camaraderie and sparring. You are both so stressed that fucking just seems the best option and a practical way to fix it. Let's ignore the fact that you've known each other for years and there's been a period in which Garrus just threw himself to the wolves out of frustration for possibly grieving you so bad. Let's just say it's a friends-with-benefits kind of situation, except it's everything but easy even just for the fact that you are two different species and there's lots of complications involved.

You insist that it has to be him, because you want him specifically, and you also want him to want it with you. Some types of Feelings are involved but let's not talk about them. So the guy just breaks, he keeps stuttering and fidgeting and making a fool of himself. He's crying screaming throwing up the moment you make a move on him and he keeps worrying about having to court you when he's actually the one being pursued - and not even subtly.

His awkward side finally comes out and he thinks it will disappoint you when in reality seeing him fall apart and be vulnerable is exactly what makes him so irresistible. It's just extremely entertaining how such a Cool Guy becomes a complete mess because he is so into you that he's even willing to literally study how to have sex with you.

So he shows up to your cabin after days of waiting it out because he wants to savour it (read: he's freaking the fuck out and needs to figure everything out). He shows up and it's the most goofy attempt at seducing you he could come up with. The music from Flux is just so comically ridiculous that you can't even hide how amusing it is. He flirts extremely badly, but you are just too pleased with seeing him all flustered, the fucking isn't even that important now.

Finally he realizes that too, and gets honest about his insecurity and the emotional burden he's been carrying. It's just tender. His mind was so set on anxiety mode that he just shifted the subject to putting his best effort into not fucking things up with you. Except he could never because you just want him to have a good time and you don't really care about the rest.

Man, I just Love Garrus...

[soullessjack]

hi im tired and in a teeny bit of pain and I’m fed up with jack being used to fix and absolve dean so heres them mutually getting their shit together like they actually should okay goodnight send tweet

[celesteleoves]

hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?

“I WANNA BE YOURS.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!

a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI —

he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.

he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .

he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.

“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”

you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).

he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.

your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.

he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.

kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“you stalking y/n!”

“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…

bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.

SHOTO TODOROKI —

the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.

he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .

this boy will downright show his love for you.

we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.

that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?

cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.

you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.

meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.

your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).

he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .

once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.

starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.

“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.

“i can’t find my-”

“y/n. here.”

you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.

your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.

he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!

—

a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍🤍

[wqnwoos]

You were once deeply and irrevocably in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago.

as part of the don’t hate, litigate! collab hosted by the wonderful @haologram

⇢ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, exes!au, lawyer!au

⇢ wc: 5.6k

⇢ warnings: minor alcohol consumption, lots of flashbacks

⇢ a/n: early happy new year!! this is my gift to u all <3 thank u to @haologram for hosting this collab and for just being alive. and thank you SOO much to ally @lovetaroandtaemin and em @gyuswhore for beta'ing i appreciate u both endlessly 💗

SOMETIMES IT TRULY feels like God, or the stars in your skies, or whatever the hell is controlling your fate down on this measly earth, hates you.

Sometimes it truly feels like this indefinite being is determined to deal you the worst set of cards, and this – this trumps all. Being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend sounds like the beginning of a shitty romcom, except it’s not. It’s your life, and it’s been your life for the past eight minutes, since the metal box you stepped in ground to a creaky, noisy halt halfway between the sixth and seventh floor. 

And it takes eight minutes before Soonyoung sighs resignedly. “Are you just going to ignore me forever?” 

Forever, you think, is your least favourite word. There were a lot of things you thought you’d have forever, and one of them is standing right next to you.

You swallow thickly. Your reply comes measured and clipped. “For as long as possible.”

When he speaks next, you can hear the attempt at a forced smile in his tone. “Well, you kinda just failed.”

You stay silent. If anyone had told you five years ago that Kwon Soonyoung would be begging to talk to you and you’d be ignoring him, you would have called them crazy; and yet, here you are. Ignoring him like your sanity depends on it, because actually, it does. So for the past eight minutes – nine now, but who’s counting? – you’ve barely spoken a word. You’re both stuck; the recovery team can’t make it for two hours at least; and God hates you, basically.

Soonyoung’s trying to make the most of it, and you’re not letting him.

He says your name, ever so softly. “Really, though. How – how have you been?”

It’s weird, going from years of no contact to working together. It’s been a year since Soonyoung joined your company, but it hasn’t become any easier. Not when he’s such an open book, so fucking easy for you to read. Every time you cross paths, he gets this look in his eyes – sad puppy, you’ve nicknamed it. Now is no different.

“I’ve been okay,” you say finally, stiltedly. You’ve never been able to resist that face, and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. “What about you?”

The silence is painful, but the way he says fine stings a little bit more. You know when he’s lying, and he never used to do that to you.

“So…” He shifts his weight awkwardly, huffing out an uncomfortable laugh as he gazes intently at his shoes. “This is weird, right?”

You match him with an equally uncomfortable smile. “The weirdest.”

“Our longest conversation after forever,” he says. “But I wasn’t expecting it to go like this.”

You cock your head to the side, fixing him with a questioning gaze. All hopes of ignoring him are sailing out the hypothetical window. “How were you expecting it to go?”

Soonyoung looks up at you with one of those embarrassed, endearing smiles. “Better.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and then – “You know, Jeonghan calls you the one that got away.” 

He’s always had a habit of dropping things like that on you; things that leave you a little winded.

“That makes it sound like I escaped,” you say, with an ease you don’t feel.

Clearly, Soonyoung doesn’t feel it either — he exhales heavily. “Maybe you did. Escape, I mean.”

You snap your head towards him, eyes almost owlish in your surprise; “You’re not serious.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue haphazardly, “Soonyoung, that’s not — there wasn’t anything to escape from.” 

Your ex-boyfriend looks miserable. Avoids eye contact, staring fixedly at his shoes with a dejected expression he can’t properly disguise; even throughout the three years of your relationship, you rarely saw him like this. He looks…

Heartbroken, your mind suggests.

“I’m serious,” you insist again, pushing the thought out of your mind. “You weren’t a bad boyfriend, Soonyoung.”

He snorts then. “Okay, we both know that isn’t true.”

“It is!” 

���If we had, like, a counter of who fucked up however many times, I would leave you in the dust.”

You don’t know how to tell him this might even be half of it. This weird pedestal he puts you on – it’s not even guilt-tripping. You’ve seen that, but never from him; Soonyoung just truly, sincerely feels bad. Whenever you look back on your relationship, which is more often than you’d care to admit, it’s plain as day. He truly, sincerely feels that he has never deserved you. Like you’re something out of this world, out of his world. 

“Wow.” Soonyoung huffs out the one word, and it’s half a laugh, half admiration. “You are so out of my league.”

“Stop,” you whine, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Don’t say stupid things like that.”

“Well, not everyone gets to date the prettiest girl in law school,” he retorts quickly, lifting his brows. “Not sure why I of all people get to, but thank you.”

“Stop it,” you repeat, rolling your eyes and fixing the tie he’s wearing. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. You should know it, at least.”

“Not just that!” he protests quickly. “I just mean… you’re so smart. And good. And kind, and funny, and — ”

“Ah, yes! Of course, Kwon Soonyoung, known famously for being mean and horrible and extremely unfunny,” you say sarcastically, before tugging his tie and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I choose my league, and you’re the only one in it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs, slightly breathless.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

There were a lot of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung. You’d started off wonderful: both of you bright, flaming, drawn to each other like magnets. You managed the stresses of law school, graduated together, and lined up jobs – jobs that were miles and miles from each other.`

There were lots of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung, but if you had to pick one, it would be long distance.

“When did we stop trying?”

The question makes you snort. “What, you want a date and a time?”

Soonyoung smiles ruefully, but there’s nothing happy about it. It’s more of a painful grimace. That’s always been the way with you both: you deflect, he feels. He doesn’t hide the way you do, not from anyone. And for a few years, he was the only one who you didn’t hide from. 

Maybe that’s what has you opening your mouth again. “I could probably give you one. A date, I mean.”

Soonyoung hugs his knees to his chest, eyes searching your face. You can read him so well it physically makes you ache. The hint of uncertainty in his eyes, the twitching of his fingers – he’s nervous. He’s torn between wanting to know what you have to say and the strong sneaking premonition that it might hurt. “Go on,” he says finally, just as you knew he would. 

Honestly, you don’t have an exact date. Things fell apart slowly, and then all at once. A toppling tower – leaning, leaning, leaning, until it crashed. 

“There were probably a few things,” you say, softly. “My birthday, for a start.”

He winces reflexively. “That…” he begins, and then breathes out, shutting his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that.”

“I mean, in the end, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You’re not sure why you’re trying to reassure him, even if it's true. You forgave him almost immediately.

“Shit.” 

Soonyoung’s first eloquent word when he walks into the apartment only means you become sure of what you already suspected. He takes in the half-eaten cake on the table, candles blown out and tossed to the side, the scraps of wrapping paper littering the floor, the cards; you take in his face. And you know, as quick and as simple as that – he forgot. 

Some small part of you had been holding a sneaking hope that maybe this was just an elaborate attempt at a surprise. You’d told him once, months and months ago, that you didn’t think ignoring people on their birthday to surprise them later was a very nice thing to do. But you’d rather he forgot that than your entire birthday.

His eyes meet yours, both of you frozen to your places. Him at the doorway, you at the table. The distance between you isn’t more than a few metres, but suddenly it feels like an engulfing abyss. Still, even from the other side, you can feel the guilt pouring out of him. 

“Shit,” he says again, before rushing his words out. “Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

You haven’t cried all day. You haven’t let yourself, but this has your eyes brimming over before you can control it.

“I’m going to bed,” you say finally, hugging yourself tightly, making yourself smaller. The apartment is warm, but you suddenly feel freezing. And despite your best efforts, there’s a waver in your voice, verging on a crack. “I’m tired.” 

You glance over the remains of your birthday party, one that you plastered a fake, painful smile on the whole way through, and then you turn to leave. 

“Baby, wait,” he implores quickly, and takes a step towards you — you mirror it immediately with a step back, and it makes him pause, his expression falling even further. “Baby.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.” Your voice is obviously shaking now. “Not today. Maybe — maybe tomorrow.”

Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to hear his excuses, his promises, but today, you’re allowed to be upset. You’ll let yourself have today, at the very least.

He’d driven hours to see you that day, but he’d still forgotten why he was there. You hadn’t really celebrated your birthday before you met him. Soonyoung was the one who made it a big deal, back when you first started dating, and even now, there’s a sharp pang in your chest when you remember how hurt you were that day.

“You made up for it tenfold,” you remind him now, because it’s true. He made the rest of the week practically a utopia, once you banned him from apologising. And he’d been so busy at work, so incredibly tired the whole month before, and you could understand. Both that he upset you, and that it was an innocent mistake. And you’ve never seen more sincere apologies than those that came from Soonyoung.

He looks grim, shakes his head, but doesn’t say any more. Probably because you’ve had this conversation a few times already, both of you too stubborn to give in. 

“Keep going,” he says, then, looking at you head on. “What else?”

All of a sudden, you don’t want to talk about what else. All of a sudden, you’re annoyed with him, his stupid face, this stupid elevator. “Do we have to do this?” Your voice has switched from somewhat reassuring to harsh – for want of a better word, angry. It makes his brown eyes a little round with surprise, his mouth parting a little.

“What?”

“What else and what if have been on my mind for three years, Soonyoung,” you say acidly. “Forgive me if I don’t really want to talk about it to your face.”

Again, his mouth opens a little bit, stays open as he tries to form words. Until he gives up, seals his lips and nods. “Alright. Okay. That’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine!” you cry out, only more angry that he won’t argue back. You’re lawyers, it’s what you do. And just to be petty, you add — “Besides, I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about this anyway.”

Finally, his passive poker face drops, and he looks a little confused. “My what?”

Immediately, you regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late to back down. “Your girlfriend. You know, that girl from accounting.”

“The girl fr— You mean Rachel?” Soonyoung gapes at you, and something in you bridles, until he continues. “Mrs Choi, who's married to her wife and adopting a kid next year?”

Well, now you feel stupid as fuck.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he continues, and if you weren’t afraid to look at him right now, you’d swear he was hiding a smirk.

“Whatever. I don’t care. Why are we even talking about this?” you snap, irritated and embarrassed.

He still sounds smug. “You brought it up.”

“You sit with her every lunch hour,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck. “I just assumed.”

“Well, there’s nothing there. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried! I don’t care who you date, Soonyoung!”

He looks a little taken aback, blinking once or twice, cockiness gone without a trace. “Wow,” he says, finally. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name since — ”

He cuts himself off, but you complete the sentence in your head — three years ago. Three years since you packed up and walked out of his life. It feels like a decade ago; it feels like last week. You’d been so sure that you wouldn’t see his face again after that, that it was a decided end of a full four years of your life. Until last year, when he’d waltzed straight back into your life, this time at your workplace.

“This is the new hire.” Your boss is speaking, but you’re still finishing up the last sentence on the document you’re working on, and you listen absently as he fires a couple instructions — “Jeon, you’ll show him around. Filing system, get him logged on, the works.”

You look up then, to cast Wonwoo a knowing smile, because he always gets lumped with showing around the newbies, but halfway to making eye contact with your friend, you catch the familiar tilt of a jaw, the soft lines of a nose you know so well.

You’ve seen Soonyoung in a hundred people since you left him. You’re always looking over your shoulder at the bus stop, at the grocery store, at the library, finding a tiny piece of him in everyone and everything, a tiny piece that lodges itself tight and sharp into your throat until you take a second look, until you see unfamiliar eyes or too dark hair or shorter legs. Until you find something to make you swallow, exhale, and keep walking.

Now, your second look doesn’t yield anything unfamiliar. Except maybe his hair, gone from blonde to black, but everything else — everything else. It’s him, and he looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see him. There’s a heavy moment that seems only heavy to the two of you, everyone else still talking, the boss still giving instructions, but you and Soonyoung are looking at each other, dumbfounded, and all you can think about is the distinct taste of bile in your throat and the tie he’s wearing is the one you got him for his birthday.

Your initial plan is to avoid him. He foils that plan within two hours, cornering you in the break room, whispering urgently, “I had no idea you worked here, I swear I’m not, like, following you or – ”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, and you just pin him with a blank stare. 

“I could quit.”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I’m not so butthurt that I can’t be a professional.”

“Right,” Soonyoung nods, breathing out a little. His lips are chapped. He never used to wear lip balm, just used to borrow yours. You hate yourself a little for remembering that.

The memory almost makes your lips twist with an sardonic smile. “I was so pissed when you showed up here.”

You can see his half smile, rueful and charming, through your peripheral vision. “I felt so bad about it, you know. But you just seemed annoyed when I saw you in the break room, so I figured you weren’t… mad or upset or anything.”

“I went straight from the break room to cry in the bathroom for fifteen minutes,” you admit truthfully. “I had to tell Wonwoo I had curry for breakfast.”

“You cried?”

You scowl. “I’m not saying it to be pitied, Soonyoung. I’m just saying, I’m not, like, some heartless jerk with no feelings. Of course I was upset.”

“I know that,” he says quickly, vehemently. “Of course I know that.” He hesitates, and then continues, words practically inching out of him. “It’s not really my place to ask, but… you and Wonwoo… are you guys…?”

“You’re right,” you say, and press your cheek onto your knees to fix him with your eyes. “It’s not your business. But that’d be hypocritical of me, so… no. No, we’re just friends. I’m friends with his girlfriend too, Cam, she works at the plant shop down the road.”

Soonyoung tilts his head back, lets out one of those breathy laughs that aren’t really laughs. “It’s so weird that you have new friends now.”

“Thanks,” you say, dripping with sarcasm.

“Not like that! I just mean I’m so used to – like, it used to be our friends, you know what I mean?”

“Not since three years ago,” you say with false lightness, because when you lost Soonyoung, you lost the friends he brought you too. You catch the glint of pity in his eyes again, and scoff. “It’s not a big deal. They were your friends first.”

Frowning, he speaks again. “First doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter to them either. Seungkwan said you were the one who stopped answering their calls.”

It’s true, and the feeling still burns a little, because Seungkwan and Jeonghan had called so many times. Even Vernon called a couple times, and you weren’t even that close to him, but Soonyoung has always attracted good people. Like calls to like. Maybe that’s why you ended up leaving.

“I was trying to make it easier,” you say bluntly., “for them to choose you.”

Your ex-boyfriend clicks his tongue, rakes a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not about sides, ___, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, it felt like it at the time, alright?” Your words come out louder than you mean them to, and you pause, trying to quell your defensiveness. 

Soonyoung raises his hands in half-hearted surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

Something in your stomach feels acidic. Leaning your head back against the cool wall of the elevator, you manage to meet his eyes apologetically. “How – how are they, though? Seungkwan and everyone?”

Graciously, he ignores your quick show of temper. “They’re good. Seungkwan’s working freelance photography now. Jeonghan still hates his job, but keeps getting promoted anyway.”

Jeonghan. You told him you thought you were going to break up before you even told Soonyoung. You wonder if he remembers it, because that night is seared into your memory – New Year’s Eve, three years ago.

You’re much drunker than you ever intended to be when you finally find a place to sit in the cramped apartment, waved over by a sympathetic looking Jeonghan. He pats your head affectionately as you groan. 

“Feeling alright?”

“No,” you say elaborately.

Jeonghan never pries, which is probably what makes people tell him everything. He only raises his eyebrows at you, a hint of scepticism toying with his smile.

You look away, eyes drawn immediately to your boyfriend, laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, looking so fucking happy; when you see him like this, your heart always feels so incredibly warm and so incredibly full. 

Except today, there’s something else intertwining it, something similar to dread, and it causes the faint smile on your face to fade a little.

Jeonghan sees it, of course, and when you look back at him, his eyebrows only raise higher. 

You sink further into that horrible, looming feeling. “Jeonghan.”

“___.”

“I think I’m going to break up with him this year.”

If you didn’t know Jeonghan as well as you do, you’d think the information hadn’t affected him at all; his features remain completely impassive, but you catch the flash of surprise in his eyes. He stays quiet for a long time, the silence between you filled with thumping bass and indistinct conversation, until finally, he asks the only question there is to ask. “Why?”

It’s ridiculous, how one word can bring you to the verge of tears. But that one word holds so much weight – why would you break up with him? Why would you, when you’ve pictured a future with him a thousand times over? 

Why would you leave the best thing that ever happened to you?

You blink back the tears, and Jeonghan waits.

His voice is soft, but you still hear him under the din of the party. “Is this about your birthday?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.” You stop. “Maybe. It’s – there’s just – little stupid things.”

“Little things add up,” Jeonghan says gently. You hate how he’s already understanding.

“Sometimes – ” You swallow thickly. “Sometimes I just feel so far away from him.”

You don’t have to explain that you don’t mean physically. Because that’s part of it, but it’s not all of it, but without you saying that, Jeonghan knows. You barely notice when he takes your plastic red cup from your hands, setting it on the table next to him. “And I know he loves me, and he’d never hurt me on purpose, and – he’s been so good to me, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan only hums, waits for you to continue. And you do, the alcohol only pushing more words out of your mouth. “The distance,” you say, “is killing us.” You rub furiously at your eyes. “No matter how hard we try, Jeonghan, it’s not working, and I feel like – I’m the only one who can see that. He’s ignoring it, but we can’t keep going like this.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a second, looking torn, more torn than you’ve ever seen him look. “Do you still love him?”

Tears blur your vision again, but don’t quite escape this time. “I don’t know how to stop.”

When you kiss Soonyoung after the countdown, your cheeks are wet.

“Long distance.”

“What?”

“You asked what else,” you say, picking at your nails. “I think it was the distance. I think that’s what – you know. Broke us up.”

Soonyoung has that look in his eyes, the one where he wants to argue but knows he’s going to lose, knows that you’re right. He breathes out, licks his lips and tries to speak. “We tried so hard.”

It’s not even a counter-argument. You agree with him, even. The two of you were brilliant at long distance, until you weren’t. Hours-long video calls, surprise weekend visits, staying over for the holidays, until it all started collapsing. Weekly movie nights kept getting postponed. Visits had to decrease in number. You were missing each other’s calls – if one of you wasn’t working late, the other always was. It was like the entire universe was working against you both, and suddenly, you felt like a burden rather than a lover, and Soonyoung would probably say the same. It’s hard not to feel that way, when you’re celebrating your anniversary over FaceTime and both of you keep dozing off while the other talks.

In a way, Soonyoung is right: you both tried so hard. In a way, he’s so wrong: neither of you tried hard enough.

Towards the end of it all, you were too tired to fight. Both of you were. The breakup was a quiet affair, mostly. You brought it up first, standing in the kitchen of Soonyoung’s apartment after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls.

“Soonyoung?”

“Babe, I told you, it’s the third cupboard from the left,” he calls, but he’s rounding the corner to his kitchen anyway. He stops in his tracks when he sees your face, smile fading, and for a second, time freezes.

“Soonyoung,” you say again, quieter.

And he knows. “Don’t,” he says, faintly, but there’s no weight behind it, because he knows.

Tears are already brimming your eyes, and you’re wrapping your arms around yourself, shaking your head. “I can’t,” you say, and you’re not sure what you mean. I can’t end it. I can’t keep going.

The picture before him is enough for Soonyoung, and any defence, any fight he still had in him (because he’s always been the more tenacious) drains. He gives in, same as you. 

“Okay,” he says, in a voice that’ll haunt you for years to come, a clashing harmony of gentle and damning. “Okay.”

You try to formulate words. You fail. All that you can say is “Soonyoung.” before you trail off. 

You don’t finish. He gives you a tired, forced smile, says something about, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”, but you’re too busy trying to wrench the tears back into your eyes to focus properly. Your efforts are in vain, of course, tears slipping down your cheeks hot and heavy, no matter how much you try to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say tearfully, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry.”

After that, he only helps you load your bags into your car and says thank you when you give him the house keys. He does everything so quietly, so methodically, so defeatedly. It’s like he’s just lost a war he’s been fighting for far too long.

It turns out that in the end, four years can be reduced down to this: two cardboard boxes, three bin bags, and two broken hearts.

It’s your fault, in technical terms. You finished this. You’re the one who said the words, or almost said them, the one who spelled out what was so obviously ignored. More than once, because you’d tried this before, six months ago. Soonyoung was the one who fought back. He’d said no, of course, that first time. He’d said no with tears in his eyes, like it was a surprise to him, like he couldn’t see it the way you saw it — that you were on two very different paths. 

Soonyoung didn’t believe in following diverging paths, he believed in forcing yourself straight ahead hand-in-hand, come hell or high water. He believed in it, until he didn’t, and then he let you go.

When it’s time for you to leave, he accepts the hug you can’t help but fling on him just before you step in the car. Both of your arms around each other, fitting into place like you have a hundred times before, but so much tighter and so much briefer this time. Soonyoung clings to you like he’s never going to see you again, because he isn’t. You cling to him like this is the last time you’ll ever hug him, because it is.

And then both of you are pulling away, laughing awkwardly at the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt, and then you’re getting in your car and he’s waving you off and it’s over, just like that.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” There’s an acerbic quality to Soonyoung’s laugh as he continues. “We broke up because of distance, and here we fucking are.”

There’s a metre and a half between you two.

“Maybe it was a dumb reason,” you say. Voicing the thought that’s tormented you since the day you drove away. Because maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was a temporary rough patch, and if you’d stayed, if you’d fought a little more and a little longer, you’d still have Soonyoung.

But you didn’t, and you don’t.

There’s a heavy expression on Soonyoung’s face, a strange mix of anger and confusion and guilt. “Maybe,” he says, at last. There’s the vaguest trace of bitterness, the little tiny sting that reminds you again that you’re the one who called it quits. 

“It felt like the weight of the world at the time,” you say ashamedly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second.

Soonyoung takes the chance and scoots closer to you, sitting against the wall with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. (How easy it would be to just rest your head there, as you’ve done a thousand times before.) “It can’t have been easy,” he says, patting your hand with his own. Warm and familiar in its unfamiliarity, which is when you realise you’ve misread him, for once – he’s not bitter. He’s empathetic.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Soonyoung continues softly, rubbing his eyes, “but God, I wish you’d just talked to me. Actually — I wish we’d talked to each other.”

“Yes, well,” you say dryly, wondering if he’s going to catch your reference, “I’ve always had a problem with communication.”

He catches it; it makes him pause, lift up his head, give you a tiny smile.

It takes you a minute to register that the seat across from you has been occupied. When you do look up, you realise Soonyoung’s mouth has been moving since he sat down, and you haven’t heard a word of it. Also, somewhere between the class you guys shared two days ago and his presence in the library this morning, his hair’s gone from a discreet dark brown to a particularly indiscreet blond.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, taking out your earphones and setting down your pen. “What?”

“I said – do you have a problem with communication or something?” Despite the nature of his words, he’s practically beaming at you.

You blink at him, bewildered. “I mean… maybe? But — what?”

He holds up his phone. “Project,” he explains elaborately. “I’ve been texting, and I didn’t get a reply, and then I saw you over here, so I thought I’d ask.”

You frown, grabbing your phone. “I didn’t get any texts.”

Soonyoung mirrors your expression, tapping at his screen, and you’re struck by how much the blond suits him. As did the brown. As did the black he had a semester ago. Not that you’ve been keeping track, but it’s hard to not notice someone like Soonyoung. Even if the first time you talked to him was two days ago to organise the project you’ve been paired up for — you know him. Of him, at least.

He swivels his screen round to face you, showing you a contact with your name and what you quickly realise is almost your number. You smile a little awkwardly, tapping the last digit. “That’s meant to be a seven. You’ve got an eight.”

“Fuck,” he exhales, “that explains it. Who the hell have I been texting about litigation then?”

Something about his expression and his tone is so comical it makes you laugh, which surprises him a little – he glances up at you with a blatantly admiring smile, and he taps the edge of the desk. “Your eyes light up when you laugh, did you know?” And as quickly as he says it, he moves on, gesturing to your phone. “I’ll text you about the project, okay?”

He’s like a hurricane, and you’re trying your best to keep up. “Okay,” you agree confusedly, still hot-faced from the sudden compliment. “Yes. That’s — yes.”

As he gets up to leave again, he shoots you another one of those blinding, dazzling smiles, and sticks his hand out. “We’re friends now, right?”

His question sounds childishly sweet, and you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than agree. 

Your one little reference sets you both off. You spend the next two hours talking and talking and talking, every other sentence beginning with “Remember when…”, as the two of you dredge up the long-buried memories of four long years spent together.

Soonyoung talks about the massive crush he had on you before you even got paired up for the project. You talk about how you never believed him, even when he did ask you out – it took three tries before you understood how serious he was. And then you remember the time Soonyoung sprinted from campus to his accommodation and back just to get you the calculator you forgot for your exam – and the time you both went to a frat party and ended up playing the most intense game of UNO in the bathroom with Vernon, which ended in a drunk Soonyoung trying to flush the cards down the toilet. 

He talks about the surprise party you threw for his birthday, and you talk about the time he tried to make you pancakes for National Girlfriend Day and failed horribly. You ate them anyway.

You don’t, however, talk about other things, even if you remember them. You remember Soonyoung kissing your forehead every morning he woke up next to you. You remember him buying your favourite flowers for your favourite vase every week. You remember coming home after a long day to food already delivered and paid for when he was working hours and hours away. You remember being so incredibly in love that it made you giddy and so in love it made you calm. And you don’t talk about it, just store it away somewhere as a reminder of what love is meant to feel like. If four years with Soonyoung brought you anything, it’s that: it taught you how to love and be loved.

When the recovery team finally arrives, you leave the elevator feeling like a new person. It doesn’t hurt when you look at Soonyoung anymore, there’s only a vague, warm fondness. And he can look you in the eye now, which he does. He smiles at you, sticks out his hand the same way he did all those years ago.

“We’re friends now, right?”

an / AHHH!!!!!! i know this fic is only like 5k but it took a lot out of me so i’d love to hear your thoughts. literally any thoughts. i wanted this fic to be longer but it happened this way and. what can i do. i may be the author but im NOT in control. it’s not a fic i’m 100% proud of but i think it’ll still hold a special place in my heart!!!! i love an angsty exes au.

anyway — this will be my last fic this year!!! see you all in 2025 and thank you so much for all the notes and all the reblogs and all the wonderful conversations this year i love you

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon

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[pucksandpower]

Disturbing the Peace

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Max Verstappen x Vettel!Reader

Summary: an environmental activist disturbs the carefully constructed peace of Max’s life and turns his whole world on its head (or in which environmentalism and being a menace both run in the Vettel family)

Max strides across the tarmac towards his sleek private jet, ready to head up to the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes after a weekend of relaxation back home in Monaco. But he stops short as his eyes land on a cluster of protesters glued to the ground around his jet’s landing gear.

A gruff security guard approaches Max. “Sorry sir, we’ve got a bit of a situation here with these Greenpeace loons. They snuck past the perimeter and glued themselves down before we could stop them.”

Max scowls as he reads the words Fossil Fuels = Destruction scrawled across one of the protester’s shirts. He storms over, fists clenched at his sides.

“What the hell do you people think you’re doing?” he fumes, glaring at the seated activists. “You realize you’re costing me tens of thousands just by delaying my flight?”

“That’s kind of the point, bro,” one long-haired guy shoots back with a snide grin. “You’re one of the worst celebrity polluters on the planet.”

But Max’s gaze is drawn irresistibly to you — a beautiful young woman with fierce eyes and hair whipping around your face in the coastal wind. There’s an intensity and passion burning behind your stare that Max finds himself unexpectedly captivated by.

You rise gracefully to your feet, the only one not glued down, and take a step towards the fuming Formula 1 star. “Max Verstappen. Out of all celebrities last year, you were the 20th highest personal polluter. Even higher than Taylor Swift.”

There’s an unmistakable blend of reproach and attraction in your tone that throws Max off balance. He scoffs, trying to regain his bravado.

“What, are you stalking me or something? And I’m supposed to care what some random activist chick thinks?”

You level him with a pointed look. “Not some random chick. Y/N Vettel. Sebastian’s sister. And yes, you should care, because this is your planet too.”

Max blinks in surprise at the familiar surname, now recognizing the resemblance to his former competitor.

Oh fuck, not this girl.

He can’t resist giving you another once-over, taking in your lithe frame, the jut of your chin as you stare him down defiantly.

An amused smirk tugs at his lips despite himself. “Vettel, huh? I should’ve known. You two do have a thing for causing drama wherever you go.”

The dig lands but you don’t rise to the bait, shaking your head minutely. “This has nothing to do with drama, Max. It’s about doing what’s right for the environment before it’s too late to save it.”

“Oh, spare me the self-righteous preaching,” Max scoffs, reflexively going on the defensive even as a small part of him admires the conviction in your voice. “Like your jet-setting around to protest events is really doing the planet any favors.”

You raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Jet-setting? I take public transit everywhere. Planes are the exception for international events, and I always buy carbon offsets.”

Max feels a flicker of grudging respect at that before quickly stamping it down. He folds his arms across his chest, fixing you with a challenging stare. “Yeah? Well what about your clothes? I’m guessing that shirt was made from petroleum-based synthetic fabrics.”

A look of surprise crosses your face before you recover with a small shake of your head. “It’s actually bamboo. Petroleum-free and sustainably sourced.”

“Your shoes then,” Max presses, gaze dropping to the canvas flats on your feet.

You lift one demonstratively. “Recycled rubber.”

His eyes narrow as he struggles to find another example to poke holes in your lifestyle. You watch him search with ill-disguised amusement, finally taking pity.

“Listen Max, I’m not saying I’m perfect. Nobody is. The point is to keep trying to do better where we can.” Your eyes hold sincerity and — though Max is loath to admit it — wisdom beyond your years. “But you’re in a position of power. With all your money and influence, just think what you could do for sustainability initiatives. How many trees you could plant or clean energy projects you could fund with just a fraction of what you spend on private flights and gas-guzzling supercars every year.”

Max shifts, discomfited by the practicality of your words. It’s harder to be glib and dismissive when you’re not ranting incoherently about the planet dying, but making reasoned arguments. Especially with that intense, scrutinizing gaze fixed so squarely on him.

He clears his throat, resorting to sarcasm as a defense mechanism. “Yeah, that’s cute and all. But then who would keep all those gas station attendants employed? I’m doing them a public service, really.”

The ghost of a smirk curves your lips in a way that makes Max’s chest tighten unexpectedly. “How very philanthropic of you.”

He has to look away from the spark of challenge and — yes, flirtation — in your expression. Max isn’t sure when this stopped being a confrontation and turned into some sort of tense back-and-forth bristling with inexplicable chemistry, but it’s rapidly becoming unnerving.

Seeming to sense you’ve flustered him, you lean in conspiratorially. “You know Max, for someone who acts like such an edgy bad boy, you’re not so tough. I think deep down you know I’m right.”

Max’s jaw ticks stubbornly even as his cheeks burn at your proximity, at the sweet floral scent of your shampoo drifting across the scant distance between you. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

In a daring move, you reach out and lay a hand on his arm. His breath hitches just slightly at the contact as you hold his gaze intently. “Then help me understand. Join me for dinner sometime and we can talk more about this over something other than just shouting at each other.”

The gentle touch, combined with the sincerity shining warmly through those big widened eyes, takes Max completely off guard. He opens his mouth, then closes it, abruptly unsure how to respond to such an olive branch extended from his vehement critic just moments ago.

Before he can formulate a reply, the wail of sirens pierces the air. A police cruiser pulls up as four officers jump out, advancing menacingly towards your compatriots still glued to the pavement.

“Alright, that’s enough here,” the barrel-chested sergeant barks gruffly. “You’re all under arrest for criminal trespassing and failure to obey airport security.”

You hurriedly step between the officers and your fellow protesters, palms raised placatingly. “Please officers, don’t arrest them! I was the one who orchestrated this, I’ll go quietly. Just let them go.”

Max’s heart does a strange little flutter at the selfless gesture, at the protective way you shield your group from the aggression of the snarling police officers.

Before he can think better of it, he’s striding forward and planting himself at your side, a steadying hand on your arm. “Actually officers, I’m afraid I can’t let you detain this woman.”

You blink up at him in surprise. The lead sergeant looks far from impressed, folding his beefy arms across his chest.

“And just who the hell are you to make that call?”

Max lifts his chin defiantly. “Max Verstappen. I’m sure your supervisors would love to hear how the biggest name in racing got falsely arrested on the tarmac because one of their officers couldn’t exercise some restraint.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen almost comically and he takes an unconscious step back, disarmed by Max’s threat to leverage his fame and money. “Oh. Er … Mr. Verstappen, sir. I’m sure, um, we can sort this out ...”

Max cuts him off with an imperious wave, turning his attention fully to you. Your expression is a mixture of shock, curiosity, and — though Max certainly doesn’t dare name it — just maybe a tiny flicker of attraction in return.

“You asked me to try and understand your perspective. Fine, I’ll take you up on that dinner.” He looks you squarely in the eye, expression unreadable. “But you have to promise to hear me out too. No judgements, no protests. Just two people trying to figure out how to make the world better in their own ways.”

You stare searchingly at him for a prolonged moment. Then a slow, wondering smile spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes in the most disarmingly beautiful way. You give a small nod.

“Deal. I’ll keep an open mind if you do.”

Max finds himself returning the smile before he can stop himself. “Deal.”

He doesn’t know why this odd, passionate woman has gotten under his skin so quickly. Or why he suddenly cares what some environmental activist thinks of his choices. But as you take his proffered hand and he helps you step carefully away from the cluster of protestors, Max feels an unfamiliar stirring of hope. Maybe there’s more to this situation — and to you — than meets the eye.

The sergeant looks between you two skeptically, but seems to think better of pressing the issue further with Max’s steely gaze trained on him. With a resigned sigh, he waves his officers back.

“Alright, we’re going to let this one go. But I better not catch you trespassing and causing problems again, you hear?” He jabs a meaty finger at you in warning.

You just smile serenely, still not releasing Max’s hand. “No worries, officer. I have a dinner to get ready for.”

As the police pull away, you turn that brilliant grin on Max again. He finds himself returning it almost against his will, captivated by the fire that dances behind your eyes. For the first time, he wonders if going toe-to-toe with an idealistic environmental warrior might actually be worth momentarily putting his own deeply-held beliefs aside.

Stepping in close, you surprise him by leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “Thanks for playing along back there. I owe you one, Max Verstappen.”

The warm breath tickling his neck sends an unexpected shiver down his spine. You pull back with a mischievous wink before turning and rejoining your fellow activists, hips swaying in a tantalizing way that has Max’s gaze lingering perhaps a moment too long.

As he watches you go, Max can’t shake the strangest sense that he’s suddenly entered uncharted territory. And that this is only the beginning of you continually barging into his life and turning everything deliciously upside down.

***

Max lets out a grunt as he heaves the heavy barbell up over his head, sweat beading on his brow from the intense weight training session. After securing the bar back on its rack, he straightens and grabs a towel to wipe his face.

His phone starts ringing from across the room, an unknown number flashing on the screen. Max debates letting it go to voicemail but finally relents with a resigned sigh, scooping up the device.

“Yeah, hello?”

There’s a brief silence before an automated voice responds. “This is a call from a corrections facility. To accept charges and connect this call, press 1.”

Max frowns, caught off guard. He presses 1 warily, curiosity getting the better of him. The line clicks and then a new, very familiar voice comes through.

“Max! Oh thank god you picked up.” It’s you, sounding mildly frazzled but still unmistakably your unique blend of passion and composure.

A surprised laugh escapes Max’s lips before he can stop it. “You? Calling me from jail? This I’ve got to hear.”

“Don’t sound so delighted,” you chide, though he can hear the smile in your voice. “Yes, I’m in a bit of a situation here. You remember the big event we had been planning to protest that oil baron’s ridiculous superyacht docking in Monaco?”

Max raises an eyebrow even though you can’t see it. “The one where you said, and I quote, ‘No Max, you can’t come. Your pouty little rich boy face is just going to distract everyone from the real injustice we’re protesting here.’“

“... Yes, that one.” You don’t miss a beat. “Well, we may have taken things a step too far. The police showed up and arrested all of us for trespassing and disturbing the peace.”

“You don’t say?” Max leans back against the weight bench, a teasing lilt to his voice. “So let me get this straight — you got yourself chucked in the slammer for causing your signature environmentalist dramatics, and now you’re calling me to help get you out?”

There’s a slight pause before you respond, tone turning softer. “I didn’t want to call Seb. You know how he gets — he’ll just give me that disappointed head shake and lecture about being more responsible. Acting like I’m still a reckless teenager instead of a grown woman fighting for a noble cause.”

Max feels a small pang at the uncharacteristic wistfulness in your voice. For all your sparring back and forth, he knows how much your activist work means to you. And how tirelessly you dedicate yourself to it, often at the expense of other aspects of life.

Chewing his lip, he considers his next words carefully. “I may give you endless shit about being a tree-hugging rebel without a cause, but you know I actually respect what you’re doing, right? Even if your methods are … shall we say, dramatic.”

You let out a small surprised huff of laughter at that. “Did Max Verstappen just pay me something resembling a genuine compliment? Aww, you really do care.”

Max rolls his eyes at the teasing, though his lips quirk in a reluctant smile. Something about your back-and-forth banter has a way of putting him at ease in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m still holding out hope this is just a pesky phase before you eventually come to your senses and realize the error of your ways.”

“Fat chance, hot shot.” The warm amusement in your tone is impossible to miss. “But anyway, since you’re in such a generous mood — think you can do me a favor and come bail me out?”

Max hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, bringing you home with me seems like a surefire way to get your activist cooties all over my ridiculously expensive non-vegan furniture.”

“Max ...” You let out an exaggerated whine that has him fighting back another grin. “Come on, I’m begging you here! I’ll be a model prisoner, I swear.”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Max pushes off from the bench and starts grabbing his shoes and keys. “Fine, fine. Twist my arm, why don’t you? I’ll be there in twenty minutes to ply your jailers with my generous pile of my money and spring you from the clink.”

You let out a squeal of delight that has his heart doing an odd little flip despite himself. “You’re the best, Max! Seriously, I owe you huge after this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to make a habit of it. This is a one-time kind of deal.”

The two of you say your brief goodbyes and Max hangs up, head shaking in bemusement. He’s not sure when his friendship with the passionate eco-warrior became so effortlessly comfortable, bantering back and forth like a long-married couple.

But he also can’t deny the way his pulse kicks up just slightly at the thought of seeing you again — windswept hair, fiery eyes, and that bright smile that still catches him off guard every time it’s directed his way.

As Max jogs out to the garage to grab his Ferrari for the short drive to the station, he vehemently tells himself it’s merely because he’s intrigued by the novelty of your clashing personalities. That your relentless conviction is a fascinating change of pace from the empty glamor that usually surrounds him.

But a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispers that he’s lying to himself. That there’s something magnetically addictive about you and your tireless ability to see the world through a different lens than his own. Something that challenges him, stimulates him, reels him in over and over again no matter how much he pretends to resist.

He quickly banishes the thought, jaw setting in stubborn determination. Max Verstappen isn’t the type to get pulled into a girl’s orbit, no matter how intriguing she might seem on the surface. He’ll bail your reckless ass out of jail, have another enjoyable round of opposition-attracts banter, and then carry on with his usual life of racing and living by his own well-established rules.

Right?

The sleek crimson SF90 Stradale tears through the winding Monaco streets, wind whipping through Max’s hair as he pushes the pedal towards the floor. The adrenaline pumping through his veins feels vaguely familiar to the thrill of a heated race — though he refuses to dwell too deeply on why bailing out an eco-terrorist gives him that same edge-of-the-seat excitement.

He pulls up to the modest local jail in record time, the guard at the entrance giving him a skeptical once-over before waving him through. No doubt recognizing the signature Ferrari and flashy persona of the championship-winning driver.

Max swaggers up to the front desk where a bored-looking officer sits shuffling through paperwork. The young man startles at his approach, shooting to attention with widened eyes.

“Oh! Mr. Verstappen, sir! How can I help you today?”

Puffing out his chest just slightly, Max gives the officer his most imposing stare. “Yeah, I’m here to post bail for one of your … residents. Y/N Vettel.”

The cop’s brow furrows as he scans the intake files. “Ah yes, here she is. Environmental activist, part of that big protest at the marina. Disturbing the peace, trespassing, and a few of them even got hit with property damage charges from graffiti.”

Max scowls, that damned protective streak rearing its ugly head again before he can stop it. “I’m only posting bail for Y/N Vettel. The hell did she get charged with?”

“Just peaceful trespassing and disturbing the peace.” The cop frowns contemplatively. “Well, and resisting arrest when she tried to stop us cuffing one of her friends. But that’s about it.”

Rubbing his temples with a pained sigh, Max can’t resist a rueful grin. “Yeah, that tracks. Listen, what’s it gonna cost me to grab her so I can get out of here?”

“For those charges? €1500 bond should cover it.”

Max scoffs at the paltry sum, already pulling out his monogrammed money clip and peeling off a stack of euros. “Whatever, here’s double. Keep the change for your trouble.”

The cop’s eyes widen almost comically, but he knows better than to question Max freaking Verstappen. Hurriedly taking the bills, he produces some paperwork for Max to sign and process the transaction.

“Alright Mr. Verstappen, just need your signature here and here. And if you’ll allow me to get your fingerprints as well for the release forms ...”

Max begrudgingly complies, wanting to get this circus over with as quickly as possible. He taps his foot impatiently as the officer takes his prints and finalizes everything in the computer system.

“Okay, all set. I’ll have one of the guards bring Miss Vettel around to the release lobby. Might be a few minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry it up,” Max mutters distractedly.

He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, letting his eyes drift shut for a brief moment as he tries to compose himself. Your voice rings in his ears, that unmistakable mixture of sheepishness and determination that seems to sum up your entire persona.

Goddamn it, why did you have to call him? Why couldn’t you have just phoned up your doting big brother like a normal person instead of dragging Max into this? Part of him wants to be annoyed at how easily you’re able to play him, batting those big eyes and pleading for his help like you knew he would give in.

But the thought of leaving you to stew in a dingy jail cell somehow makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. Almost like he’d be letting you down in some weird, convoluted way. Ridiculous as the notion is, Max can’t deny this increasing pull you seem to have over him.

His eyes fly open as the door to the cellblocks finally opens, heavy footsteps approaching. Max takes an automatic step forward, pulse kicking up in anticipation despite himself.

And then you’re there. Hair tousled, t-shirt and jeans covered in smears of dirt and grass stains from the protest scuffle. But those defiant eyes are still ablaze, jaw set stubbornly as the guard leads you out in handcuffs.

“Max! You’re actually here!” Your face splits into a bright, surprised grin at the sight of him.

He tries and fails to suppress his own answering smile, raking an admittedly appreciative gaze over you from head to toe. “What, you didn’t think I’d show up for my favorite little jailbird?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, you flash him a sly look from under your lashes. “I don’t know, I had my doubts Mr. Bigshot Racer would sully his palms rescuing little old me.”

“Well, you know what they say.” Max steps in close, dropping his voice to a faux-seductive murmur as he leans towards you. Your eyes widen infinitesimally but you hold his gaze, seemingly transfixed. “I just can’t seem to quit you.”

You bite your lip in a badly suppressed grin at his corny line. “Did you seriously just incorrectly quote Brokeback Mountain at me right now?”

“Maybe.” He rocks back on his heels with a shameless wink. “Doesn’t make it any less true, does it?”

A delicate blush blooms across your cheeks in a way that has Max’s heart stuttering unexpectedly. The guard clears his throat loudly, shattering the moment between you.

“Erm, right. If you’ll just sign here for Miss Vettel’s release ...” He offers a clipboard to Max.

Tearing his eyes away from you with concentrated effort, Max scrawls his signature across the form. You watch him intently, an unreadable look flickering across your features for just a moment before the guard undoes your cuffs with a loud click.

You immediately bring your newly freed hands together, rubbing at the chafed skin of your wrists gingerly. Max’s jaw tightens at the sight.

“You good?” His tone is gruff with concern despite himself.

Glancing up, you give him a reassuring smile and nod. “All good, just a little tender. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Something about your easy dismissal of the discomfort rankles Max in a way he can’t fully explain. Like he wants to grab your hands, bring them to his lips to inspect the damage more closely. The sudden urge catches him off guard and he quickly tamps it down, fists clenching at his sides.

The guard seems oblivious to the undercurrent between you, simply giving a curt nod and motioning towards the exit. “Right then, off you go. And try to stay out of trouble from now on, Miss Vettel.”

You shoot the cop your signature wry grin. “No promises, officer.”

Rolling his eyes skyward, Max grabs your elbow lightly and ushers you towards the doors before you can cause any more scenes. You fall into step beside him easily, shoulders brushing in a way that has his skin tingling with awareness.

As the two of you step out into the late afternoon sunlight, you turn to him with those warm eyes that never fail to set his heart racing just a little faster.

“I really do owe you one, Max. Thank you for coming to my rescue, even after everything“

He gives an exaggerated huff, fighting a smile. “Well, it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta bail out all the reckless idiots who can’t stay out of handcuffs for five minutes.”

You laugh brightly, punching his arm in playful admonishment. A spark of electricity seems to jolt between you at the contact and Max freezes almost imperceptibly, mesmerized by the radiant smile you’re beaming up at him.

In that moment, with the sunlight catching in your hair and reflecting those fierce, captivating eyes, Max is struck by how breathtakingly beautiful you are. Not just physically, though that’s certainly undeniable. But the whole intoxicating aura of your idealism, your passion, your relentless fighting spirit that leaves him in a constant state of incredulous attraction no matter how much he rails against it.

You cock your head slightly, drawing him out of his reverie. “Max? You still in there?”

“Huh?” He blinks dazedly before recovering with a shake of his head, shoving his hands into his pockets in what he desperately hopes is a casual gesture. “Yeah, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”

Your brow furrows in concern as you study his face intently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Max clears his throat, avoiding your piercing gaze. He nods jerkily towards the car glinting fetchingly in the sun. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they decide to re-arrest your ass for loitering.”

As the two of you make your way across the parking lot, Max resolutely ignores the persistent voice whispering that he’s in deeper than he’s willing to admit this time. That you might just be addictive enough to become something he can’t simply shake off when he’s had his fill.

But rather than finding the notion disconcerting like it should be, he finds himself fighting the strangest flicker of excitement at the prospect instead.

***

The Monaco paddock is a dizzying whirlwind of activity as teams and personnel rush about in their usual pre-race frenzy. Max weaves through the chaos towards his driver room, helmet tucked under his arm.

He pauses as a familiar voice reaches his ears — that unmistakable passionate cadence that always has a way of stopping him in his tracks these days. Max turns to see you holding court in the middle of a cluster of wide-eyed engineers and PR reps, gesticulating emphatically.

“... and that’s just the start! We also need to look into renewable energy sources to power the entire paddock operations. Sustainable cooking practices in the hospitality suites. Comprehensive recycling and composting initiatives. Not to mention overhauling the travel logistics for a lower carbon footprint when we’re shipping this whole circus around the globe every other week.”

One of the hapless reps looks shellshocked, struggling to keep up as he scribbles notes furiously. “I … yes, of course, Miss Vettel. We’ll look into all of that right away. Anything else?”

You fix the poor man with one of your signature intense stares, full lower lip catching between your teeth as you consider. Max feels his heart skip at the seemingly insignificant gesture, cursing under his breath.

“Well, we haven’t even touched on sustainable sourcing for uniforms and merchandising yet. Or the complete overhaul needed for fuel compositions and racing technology to align with a realistic net-zero roadmap.” Your eyes spark with renewed fervor. “But we can circle back on those aspects later. For now I want you to-”

Sensing an opening, the bewildered rep seizes his chance to politely extricate himself. “You know what, Miss Vettel? Why don’t I go gather all my notes on your suggestions so far and we can regroup for a more structured meeting on next steps? I’ll, uh, be in touch!”

He scampers off before you can protest, leaving the rest of the staffers gaping at you with a combination of terror and admiration. You just shake your head bemusedly, rolling your eyes skyward as you catch sight of Max watching from across the way.

“What?” You shrug innocently at his raised eyebrow, the very picture of angelic nonchalance. “Someone’s got to light a fire under these people if we want to actually get some sustainability practices in place.”

Max bites back a grin, sauntering over with exaggerated slowness. “Is that what you call demolishing that poor rep’s entire understanding of the world? Just lighting a fire?”

“Hey, we’re not being paid to settle for complacency and half-measures,” you shoot back without a shred of remorse. “I got hired to shake this whole damn organization to its core until it goes fully carbon neutral. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Your unapologetic defiance never fails to send a peculiar thrill zinging through Max’s veins. He rakes an admittedly assessing gaze over your crisp pantsuit and loosely swept updo — quite a change from the scruffy activist’s getup he’s so used to seeing you in.

“You clean up nice, I’ll give you that,” he muses teasingly. “Who knew you could look so respectable in professional garb?”

Rather than rise to the bait, you simply flash him a wink and smoothing your hands over the fitted blazer, drawing his gaze helplessly to the enticing curves beneath the tailored lines. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

Heat prickles at the base of Max’s neck at the unexpected flirtiness, his tongue suddenly thick and useless in his mouth. He quickly masks the moment of flustered silence with a dismissive scoff.

“Great, so in addition to harassing race staff you’re assaulting my senses too? Good to know where your priorities lie, Vettel.”

You laugh easily, canting a hip as you fix him with those dancing eyes that never fail to set his heart racing. “If you can’t handle a little playful banter, Verstappen, you’d better get used to keeping your distance now that we’re colleagues for the foreseeable future.”

The words slam into Max with surprising force, hitting a little too close to the bone. Unconsciously, his gaze darts over you in a way that feels far too intimate for mere colleagues. Lingering on the delicate curve of your neck as you tip your head back, the lush pout of your lips, the swaying tendrils of hair escaping your updo which he inexplicably longs to brush back into place.

All at once the reality of your new role truly sinks in — that he’ll be seeing you at every single race from now until god knows when. The thought fills Max with a dizzying blend of elation and trepidation.

On one hand, the prospect of having you perpetually woven through his life in this shiny new professional capacity is enough to make his pulse kick up in giddy anticipation.

But on the other, it terrifies him to his core. You have an uncanny ability to constantly keep him off-balance, as endlessly fascinating as you are maddening. This casual flirtation between you has taken on undercurrents he’s no longer certain he wants to shy away from acknowledging. At least, not when the thought of shutting it down fills Max with a hollow ache he can’t put words to.

He’s pulled from his spiraling reflections as an impeccably dressed older man in a crisp suit materializes at your side, placing a wizened hand on your shoulder.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Vettel! I was just coming to fetch you for our preliminary sustainability council meeting with the rest of the advisory board.” The man’s eyes twinkle with unmistakable approval as he regards you. “Although from the looks of it you’ve already started getting the lay of the land around here and, ah, asserting your new directives shall we say?”

You shoot him a conspiratorial grin, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Let’s just say I’ve had a productive first day on the job so far, Mr. Haywood. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Max recognizes the man as Stephen Haywood, one of the senior F1 board members and the person primarily responsible for bringing you on in this ground-breaking new eco initiative. He chuckles indulgently at your quip.

“That’s exactly what we’re counting on from you, my dear. Ruffling some feathers and dragging this whole operation into the future, come hell or high water. I have the utmost confidence you’re going to revolutionize Formula 1 in ways we can’t even conceive yet.”

You beam at the praise, visibly swelling with determination. Haywood gives your shoulder another squeeze before gesturing down the paddock. “Shall we? We’ve got a long agenda ahead to tackle your big plans.”

“Absolutely,” you say eagerly, turning to follow him. But not before pausing to shoot Max one last heated look from over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a sultry murmur. “Don’t go too far, Verstappen. I’ve still got plenty more to say to you later.”

And with a tantalizing wink, you sashay away after Haywood in that maddeningly hypnotic way that you know reduces Max to an incoherent mess every time. All he can do is gape after your retreating figure, the sway of those hips in that perfectly tailored skirt rendering him utterly useless.

As you disappear around the corner, Max feels the dam inside him finally burst in a torrential flood of overwhelming emotion. Everything suddenly clicks into startling clarity in one shuddering epiphany that leaves him unmoored:

He’s in love with you.

Desperately, all-consumingly, recklessly in love in a way he never saw coming and is wholly unprepared to process. All those months pretending you were just an amusing diversion, a source of intrigue and refreshing friction in his otherwise orderly life. All the times he battled against the obvious chemistry simmering between you, tried to downplay it as mere physical attraction between opposing forces.

But now it washes over Max in one shattering wave of truth — the way his world tilts off-axis whenever you’re around, the gravity of your presence drawing him in against his will. How thoroughly and irrevocably you’ve embedded yourself under his skin without him ever truly realizing it was happening until now.

He grips the wall for support, legs feeling abruptly unsteady as his head spins. How is he supposed to reconcile this revelation? That his heart now lies so completely in the hands of this fierce, untamable woman utterly hellbent on dismantling and revolutionizing his entire life’s work in the name of environmentalism.

The delicious contradictions of having fallen for someone whose core values and purpose seem to exist in such direct opposition to his own are enough to make Max’s head throb dizzily. You are his antithesis in so many ways — that headstrong passion a perpetual thorn in his side, continually pushing and prodding him out of his self-imposed boundaries.

And yet … he couldn’t be more completely enthralled.

It’s that relentless challenging of his beliefs, that refusal to settle for complacency, that has drawn Max in and held him captivated against his will from the very beginning. In you he’s found a riveting counterpoint to the blinkered single-mindedness of his existence, a refreshing perspective that somehow makes him want to be a bigger, better version of himself.

Even now, just the phantom echo of your parting words has him straightening unconsciously, feeling almost chastened and bereft in the wake of your absence. Max has never been one to dwell on his emotions, preferring to analyze and compartmentalize until they’re boxed away into neat, manageable parcels.

But this all-encompassing feeling storming through him in your wake is anything but neat or manageable. It’s wild and catastrophic, crackling with the dangerous intensity of a lightning strike clawing its way across the horizon in slow motion.

Just the thought of looking into those blazing eyes and owning the truth of his feelings for you sends Max into a panic, chest squeezing with anxious breath. You have always seen through his feigned nonchalance, cut straight through to the bone with that penetrating stare. He has no idea how to even begin existing openly in the same space as you without his heart shining through brazenly for the entire world to witness.

His fist clenches against the cold metal of the garage wall as an irrational surge of bitterness lances through him. How dare you just sweep into his rigidly controlled life with all that blistering confidence and conviction, making him feel things he never wanted to feel? Upending his carefully maintained reality without a second thought, all in the name of your damned causes?

You weren’t supposed to get this far under his skin. He was just supposed to have a bit of fun, indulge in your company as a momentary diversion at most. And now Max is in so disastrously deep that he has no idea how to drag himself back out.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there warring with himself, torn between exhilarated possibility and vehement denial. What he does know is that his entire world has been turned upside down. And despite the terror rattling his bones, despite the desperate urge to somehow ignore the sheer enormity of this jolt to his system … he can’t muster the will to try and wrestle back control.

Not when the thrill of finally surrendering to you sends such intoxicating electricity crackling through every fiber of his being.

Max peels himself from the wall with renewed resolve, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He needs to steel himself, because avoiding you is clearly no longer an option. Not when your irresistible pull is only amplified now that you’ll be a near-permanent fixture in his life.

He has to face this head-on, confront the exhilarating chaos you’ve wrought in his carefully cultivated existence. Which means pushing down the churning jumble of emotions rattling around in his ribcage before they become too overwhelming.

“Get a grip, man,” Max mutters sternly to himself, knocking the heel of his palm against his temple as if to physically dislodge his internal storm. “It’s just Vettel. You’ve dealt with her shit-stirring antics a million times before. You can handle this new ... development.”

His words carry neither confidence nor conviction, but Max forges on anyway, straightening his shoulders as he plunges back into the fray of the paddock. If he can just maintain some semblance of outward equilibrium, he can get through this.

One foot in front of the other, he winds past the crowd towards his driver’s room as if in a trance. Any minute now, you’ll saunter back through in that mouthwateringly crisp ensemble, eyes bright with hard-won strategy and single minded intent.

And Max will just … what? Calmly confront you as if his entire understanding of your dynamic hasn’t undergone a seismic fucking shift in the last five minutes?

He barks out a mirthless laugh at the impossibility of such a scenario. Any pretense of indifference has surely been shattered between you now. All his meager attempts at deflecting through banter and heated bickering ring hollow to his own ears after this shattering realization.

No, for better or worse, Max has finally tumbled over that precipice he’d been teetering on for so long when it comes to you. Now more than ever before, he dreads and craves the prospect of your next meeting in equal, searing measure.

Because whether he’s ready or not … whether he thinks he can handle the fallout or not … you’ll be able to read every devastating truth written across his face this time.

When your paths inevitably cross again, Max knows there will be no more hiding from you the shift of feelings you’ve unleashed within him.

This time, he’ll be entirely and terrifyingly laid bare.

***

Three Years Later

The crisp mountain air fills Max’s lungs as he straightens up, wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow with a satisfied smile. The freshly tilled soil stretches before him in neat rows, ready and waiting to nurture the seeds you meticulously selected.

“Nice work, Mein Löwe,” you call approvingly from across the yard, one hand resting on the swell of your pregnant belly. “That plot is going to be perfect for all our veggies.”

Max’s chest warms at the undisguised pride in your voice as you survey his handiwork. Just a few years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of voluntarily getting his hands dirty like this. But ever since that fateful day at the airport … everything has changed.

“Yeah, well, be sure to put me to work weeding and watering too,” he shoots back with an easy grin. “Gotta earn my keep as the cabana boy around here.”

You roll your eyes in playful exasperation even as an affectionate smile tugs at your lips. “I’ll be sure to get you a tiny little outfit.”

The teasing remark might have once pricked Max’s fragile ego. But now he simply shakes his head with a low chuckle, marveling at how natural, how right it feels to be the subject of your gentle ribbing. In the years since that first charged encounter, your barbs have sanded down his prickly edges until only his core of wry tenderness remains.

You cross the yard toward him, sunlight glinting off the tousled tendrils of hair that frame your face. Up close, Max can make out the dark crescent smudges under your eyes from many sleepless nights spent mapping out plans for this property — from the aerogel insulation in the walls to the extensive geothermal heating system to the solar panels spanning the roof.

Most people would have long ago surrendered in exhaustion when presented with building the world’s most environmentally sustainable home from the ground up. But not you. You had steadfastly urged him onward, determined to make this place a paragon of renewable living for your growing family.

His growing family, Max mentally corrects himself with a jolt of surprise that still hasn’t faded, even after all this time.

As if reading his mind, you pause before him, gently taking his calloused hands in yours. “Think you can handle planting all those seedlings tomorrow without me? The back pains are really kicking my ass lately.”

Max’s lips quirk upwards at the feisty lilt to your voice. “Getting a little too old to be bending over in the dirt for hours, liefje?”

“Hey, watch it!” You protest with a laugh, playfully batting at his chest. “I’m literally growing an entire human here. Maybe have some sympathy for your poor wife?”

“Alright, alright,” Max chuckles, sliding his hands reverently over the swollen curve of your belly. A sense of awe washes over him, just as it does each time he’s reminded of the incredible miracle blooming inside you — a tiny life that is half him, half this fierce, passionate woman he once couldn’t stand.

He leans in to press his forehead tenderly to yours. “I’ve got it all covered tomorrow. Why don’t you take it easy for once?”

You let out a derisive snort at the suggestion. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. Maybe if you massage my back tonight, though ...”

“Deal,” Max murmurs without hesitation, tilting his head to steal a lingering kiss.

Your lips are soft and pliant against his, still electrifying even after all this time. Max marvels yet again at this strange, thrilling new world you’ve ushered him into — one of quiet moments and domesticity and fulfillment. A world that his former self, obsessed with roaring engines and adrenaline, could have never envisioned.

But even as your mouths move in that timeless, familiar dance, Max’s mind drifts back to that fateful first encounter outside his jet all those years ago. The sheer force of your convictions had rocked him to his core then, cracking open the crusty shell around his heart. And before he could blink, you had blossomed into so much more than an impassioned activist — a friend, a confidante, a lover … and now the mother of his unborn child.

At last, you pull away with a contented sigh, cradling Max’s face in your tender palms. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am for you?”

“Once or twice,” he teases gruffly, though his chest clenches with an all too familiar ardor. “But you know I never get tired of hearing it, schatje.”

You beam up at him with utter adoration shining in your eyes. A look that never fails to disarm Max straight to his core. How had it taken so many years of chasing empty accolades for him to finally find this all-encompassing serenity?

“I just ...” You pause, worrying your full lower lip between your teeth. A sure sign you’re struggling to untangle an emotion webbed with complexity. “I never imagined I could be this … content.”

Your gaze drifts wistfully across the sweeping valley before your mountainside property, the majestic peaks dusted with snow on the horizon. For a beat, Max envisions it all through your eyes — the staggering beauty of this utopia you’ve carved out for your budding family, its self-sustaining existence treading as lightly on the earth as possible.

“After so many years fighting and railing against the system, to find this pocket of peace ...” You shake your head slowly, almost deliriously. “It’s more than I could have dreamed.”

Inexplicably, Max feels his eyes prickling with a sudden thickness at your reverent murmur. A lump forms in his throat, welling with all the indescribable gratitude and tenderness that still threatens to overwhelm him at times like this.

“You know,” he rasps out at last, tracing his thumb reverently over the sharp line of your jaw. “After that day at the airport in Nice … I tried so hard to shake the way you made me feel.”

A wistful smile plays across your lips at the memory as your eyes meet his in silent invitation. You’re hanging on his every word now — a state Max still struggles to wrap his mind around at times.

“No matter what I did, or where I traveled, part of me couldn’t escape your voice in my head,” Max continues, pushing through the lump in his throat. “Demanding that I question my way of life, open my eyes to how careless I had been.”

You nod slowly in recognition, lacing your fingers through his. The remembered combativeness from that long ago confrontation has faded now, giving way only to understanding between the two people who recognize each other most profoundly.

“At first, I just tried blocking you out,” Max admits with a rueful chuckle. He dips his head until your foreheads are brushing again as his voice lowers to an intimate rasp. “But the more I pushed you away, the deeper you burrowed inside me. Until I finally stopped fighting it and just … listened.”

He feels your sharp inhale as his words skate warmth down your skin. Slowly, almost unconsciously, your fingers tighten around his in solidarity.

“And look at us now,” you murmur at last, awestruck and achingly tender all at once.

In your eyes, Max glimpses the past, present and future stretching out in dizzying symmetry — those first fierce sparks of passion blossoming into the steadfast love that shelters your growing family. He sees the painstaking nurturing required to transform a confrontation into a partnership over years of effort and understanding.

Most of all, he sees the promise of new dawns yet to come, with each one awakening to your cherished, reverent teachings about the earth’s splendor and fragility.

His heart clenches fit to burst as Max drinks in your beauty — flushed and glowing with new life, still beaming with that incandescent fire that had first seared into his soul. Only now, it burns only for him, a flame stoking devotion and passion and sanctuary.

Just as Max leans in to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, the shrill chime of the doorbell shatters the moment. You spring apart with a breathless laugh.

“Fuck, I forgot Seb was supposed to be coming over today!” You give Max’s chest one last pat before turning toward the house, waddling slightly with the added weight of your pregnant belly.

Max grins fondly, trailing after you at a more leisurely pace. He can’t resist one last admiring glance over his shoulder at the pristine vegetable garden stretching behind the cottage — an oasis of sustainable beauty, just like the life you’ve created here.

As you reach the front door, pulling it open eagerly, Sebastian’s familiar lopsided grin greets you both from the other side. Your brother’s eyes immediately zero in on your rounded midsection, his expression melting into one of pure adoration.

“Oh, Bärchen, you’re positively glowing!” He exclaims, sweeping you into a gentle hug. “How’s my little niece or nephew treating their mom?”

You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back to shoot Max an exaggerated look of suffering. “This kid’s already high maintenance, just like their father. I’ve got swollen ankles, back pains, you name it.”

“Hey now,” Max interjects with a chuckle, sidling up to join the familiar banter. He claps Sebastian’s shoulder affectionately. “If they end up being anything like you in the baby stage, we’re in for a whole new world of sleep deprivation.”

Sebastian returns the grin, unfazed. “Like you aren’t an even bigger handful than me.”

You snort indelicately, looping your arm through Max’s as you shuffle back to allow Sebastian inside. “Are you kidding? With my influence, this baby will be an expert environmentalist before they’re out of diapers.”

“You wish,” Max shoots back with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. He knows better than anyone the depth of your convictions — and appreciates them more than he can put words to.

As the three of you bicker playfully, Max’s chest fills with an overwhelming sense of contentment. Just a few years ago, he could have scarcely imagined this scenario — the love of his life heavy with his child, her doting brother at their side, their sprawling eco-paradise as the idyllic backdrop.

But now, as he guides you both into the spacious, sunlit living room, Max knows without a doubt that this is exactly where he belongs.

Here, sheltered in the passionate wake of your ceaseless quest to better the world. Here, in the eye of the storm you had first raged into his life, upending everything until his soul had no choice but to still and listen.

You shoot him a private smile, reading his thoughts as easily as breathing. In your bright eyes, Max sees the future stretching out blissfully — a path paved by your determined heart that he will gladly tread in partnership forever.

All because on one fateful day, you had dared to make him question everything. And in doing so, unveiled the peace and purpose he never knew he craved.

[bearforcecaptions]

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

[caeunot]

Can you do a friends to lovers fic for johnnie with them being super touchy as friends

i love this !! thank you for also being my first ever ask<3

johnnie guilbert x reader

you and johnnie have been friends for a few months now, you two became close quite fast since you both have similar interests and world views. you didn't have a youtube channel of your own but you loved making lil cameos in johnnies vids or even jakes since you love eating almost as much as he does.

you were hanging out with jake and johnnie with a few other of their friends like jc and scuff, you guys had been out the whole day and you were exhausted. as you made it to the couch you slumped next to johnnie and complained about how tired you were, "im sure it's fine if you lie down for a bit" he said, you nodded and lay down on johnnies lap using it as a pillow. at first he looked a bit confused but he soon relaxed and started gently playing with your hair while still talking to the others.

your friends definitely noticed how touchy you two were, but to be honest your love language was touch and it was painfully obvious, so no one over thought when you were extra affectionate towards johnnie. when the two of you were together you would often fix his hair or if a peice of his clothing was folded you would fix, sometimes the two of you would even cuddle depending on the circumstances.

you didn't intend to actually fall asleep but you did, and when you eventually did wake up you felt a soft blanket on top of you, you then looked around and realized that everyone was gone. well everyone except johnnie. he was still on the couch with one hand on your waist the other on his phone.

"hey sleepyhead you finally awake?" you sat up and rubbed your eyes, "why did u let me fall asleep that's so embarrassing.. how long has it been" you say anxiously as you can see it's become dark outside. "only 4 hours" he says with a smug face, making you roll your eyes.

you dramatically fell forward into his shoulder, "four fucking hours" you mutter through his shirt. he puts his phone down and let his hands run through the hair by your shoulders before slowly pushing you up to face him. "everyone was already tired and left soon after you fell asleep and I didn't mind at all okay? I promise it's fine" he says with a reassuring smile.

you appreciate his words but demand that you do something for him in return, as your looking into his eyes you then decided what it is, "can I remove your makeup for you? as like a thank you!" he makes a confused face (which reminded you of a puppy). "you don't have to do anything, makeup wipes take basically a minute to use there's really no need"

but your mind had already been made, plus since you were staying over for the night you had brought all your skincare and decided to give him a mini facial.

you sat down on the side of their bathtub and johnnie sat down next to you, you took out a wipe and started removing the makeup. you then held his cheek in your other hand so that his face can be more stable. when your done you let him splash his face with water and you take out your foaming cleanser. to do this you sat even closer to him, basically feeling his breath as you took your hands and gently massaged the cleanser into his face.

"i don't think you could be a professional with those nails, like your so close to poking my eyes out" he says after you finished, he noticed your facial expressions change, "but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it" he says almost defensively.

as you finish off with moisturizer you can see he's on the verge of falling asleep, you knew you were done but a part of you didn't want this to end. "hey johnnie there's ooone more thing to do okay?" he nods and let's you lead him towards his room. "you can just sit down on your bed" you say confidently, as if there was an actual need for any of this. johnnie is that exhausted to the point where he is just mindlessly following your instructions, which made what you were going to do a whole lot easier.

when he sat down you also started yawning yourself, as if you didn't just come out of a nap but anyways. you took his hairbrush from his side tables and sat down next to him. without saying a word you started to brush his hair while gently moving it around. "are you having fun" he says, scrunching his face up slightly.

once you finished and put the brush down you decided to be a little more forward and leaned back against the end of the bed while gently moving johnnie so that he's laying on your chest. he didn't say a word until you started brushing your fingers through his hair, this time you moved it in a way where your long nails were massaging him and he accidentally let out a small whimper.

he immediately got embarrassed and sat up. "shit sorry I know you didn't mean it that way I'm just exhausted and it felt really good'". you noticed that from those words the tension between the two of you seem to change. "hey it's okay, just come sit back down". he bites his lip in slight hesitation but he then goes and sits back down in his original spot.

you massaged his head gently for a bit longer before slowly moving yourself lower to where you faced him on the pillow. "the spare room is so far away, can I just sleep here tonight?" without responding, johnnie slips his arm around your waist and tucks himself gently against your chest. "yes please".

❣

[thef1diary]

here’s a thought : boss!daniel pounding into reader against the window after the day is over and they actually catch a glimpse of someone staring from the opposite building (maybe max 🤭)

— this was already hot as is but adding Max?!!? nonnie do you want me dead? 18+ content below

The city skyline glittered like a blanket of stars, but you couldn’t focus on anything except the way Daniel’s body pinned yours to the cool glass window, his cock driving into you with a force that left you trembling. His hands gripped your hips possessively, keeping you exactly where he wanted as he set a punishing rhythm.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice low and dripping with mockery, “spread out for me like this, for me. Bet you knew you’d end your day like this, right, sweetheart?”

Your cheek pressed against the window as your nails scraped against the glass, the slick sound of his thrusts mingling with your soft, stifled cries. But Daniel wasn’t content with your meekness. His hand slid up, tangling in your hair and forcing your head up.

“Eyes open,” he demanded, tilting your gaze toward the building across the street. “Take a look.”

And there he was—Max Verstappen, standing at the opposite window, his gaze locked on you both. Your breath hitched, your thighs quivering as the heat of humiliation and desire coursed through you.

Max wasn’t just anyone; he was Daniel’s corporate rival, the CEO of the firm that had been snapping at Daniel’s heels for months. Ruthless, cunning, yet always one step behind Daniel—except now, he was getting a front-row seat to your complete unraveling.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, squirming, but Daniel only held you tighter.

“Don’t even think about hiding,” he commanded, his lips brushing your ear. “He’s been trying to take what’s mine for years. Let him see what he’ll never fucking have.”

Your knees buckled as he snapped his hips harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the quiet office. His free hand began to unbutton your blouse, fingers tweaking your sensitive nipple, the rough touch making you gasp.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Daniel sneered, his smirk evident in his tone. “Getting off knowing he’s watching, knowing he’s probably wishing he could fuck you like this. Too bad for him—you’re my assistant.”

The knot in your stomach coiled tighter, and you let out a desperate cry as he reached between your legs, circling your clit with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. Your body clenched around him, but Daniel wasn’t finished.

With a grunt, he buried himself deep, his hand gripping your jaw to keep your face angled toward the glass. “Take a good look at him,” he growled, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you.

Your eyes fluttered, half-lidded and hazy as Daniel stayed buried in you. His hands trailed up to cup your tits as he rested his chin on your shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips when his gaze connected with Max.

Max stood there with his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his expression dark and unreadable. Yet the lust in his eyes was unmistakable, even from afar. He watched Daniel play with your nipples, teasing and tugging, watching your mouth drop open in a moan he couldn’t hear.

When Daniel finally withdrew, he helped you straighten your skirt with deliberate care, smoothing the fabric while his thumb grazed your inner thigh. He looked towards the window, slightly nodding his head in acknowledgment toward Max, whose knuckles were now turning white as he tightened his fists.

He turned back to you, fixing your hair with a touch that was almost tender before guiding you away from the window. Your legs were still shaky so Daniel’s arm looped protectively around your waist.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice still dripping with satisfaction. “Max has seen enough for tonight.”

want more boss!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[munsonsmixtapes]

Smutty request ? ;) Perv!Eddie, Dark!Eddie?

Eddie and the reader and neighbours, their bedrooms and wall to wall and one night Eddie heard the moans of the reader, she is touching herself. He decides to join in, but whilst listening he hears her moan his name…

perv!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) masturbation (both f and m) oral (m receiving) slightly dom!Eddie, perv!Eddie, clothes ripping

It wasn’t a secret that the walls of your apartment were very thin. You could always hear your neighbors and vice versa. That was why you always tip toed around the place, although, the neighbors to the right of you never seemed to extend the same curtesy since they always seemed to scream at each other late into the night.

And your neighbor to the left of you played his guitar when you were trying to go to sleep, but you hardly minded that. It was like a little lullaby that helped you go to sleep every night, and maybe sometimes you pretended that the song was for you.

In fact, you actually had developed a little crush on him. And how could you not have? He was hot and rode a motorcycle and would flirt with you when you both ended up at your mailboxes at the same time.

Your little crush escalated, though, to the point of no return. It had gotten to the point where you were trying to see him every chance you got, so close to just knocking on his door to give him your number. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the confidence. So, you settled for the company of your fingers when your feelings got to be too much, imagining that it was him who was doing all the work.

You got into your bed after a long night at work and felt yourself getting worked up as you spotted Eddie in the lobby with a girl on his arm. He was escorting her out of the building and you didn’t know why you were jealous. The man had maybe uttered a few words to you and flirty as they may have been, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Or anything to you for that matter, except for your neighbor.

You were more horny than you ever had been and you really needed your fix especially after having thought about the man all day. He was quickly becoming your the star of your fantasies and you were going to take what you could get, knowing that he was never going to actually do any of that stuff to you. If he had wanted you that way, you would have already slept together, right?

Your quickly took off your jeans and stuck your hand down your pants, shoving your fingers up your cunt, a loud moan escaping from your mouth as you moved them around, on the hunt for that particular spot that always had you seeing stars.

Eddie’s ears perked up at the noise, his tv show no longer interesting as the sound floated through his ears. He had heard you masturbate more times than he could count, but never like this, never hearing you so enthusiastic while pleasuring yourself.

And he knew it was you because he would have recognized your moans anywhere, able to remember exactly what you sounded like even without you making noises on the other side of the wall to compare. Those sounds were living rent free in his head and he never wanted them to move out.

If he was being honest, he thought it was hot, loving to hear the sounds you made, them often leading him to masturbation, but he would always move to the bathroom so you couldn’t hear him.

He had gotten off more times in the small amount of time that you liver there then he had in his entire life. It had gotten to the point where he was jacking off almost every night, not being able to keep his cock from tenting in his pants at the delicious moans that were falling from your lips.

At some point, though, he decided to add a woman into the mix, needing to actually fuck someone instead of having his hand do the job. And it was good, great, even, but he couldn’t help but imagine your face on top of hers, your moans filling his ears instead of hers.

And he didn’t feel right fucking her when he wasn’t all in, so he sent her home, trying his best to be a gentleman about it. So, he was back to square one, listening to you, wishing that he was the one to do the job.

He pressed his ear to the wall, trying to see if that would help him hear you even better. It didn’t. It just made the noises sound more muffled and not nearly as hot. He looked down and could see that he was already hard. That had to be a record of some sort. Maybe if he went over there, you’d take care of him-

“Eddie.” His eyes widened as he realized that his name had come out of your mouth. He paused, his hand hovering over his very hard cock as he waited to see if you’d say it again to confirm that he wasn’t just hearing things.

“Eddie, oh my god,” it was louder now and an involuntary whine fell from his lips, suddenly needing yours to suck him off. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to do something.

Before he could stop himself, he rushed out of his room and suddenly, he was in the hallway, knocking on your door, hoping that you would answer it before anyone could see his very hard cock.

The knocking on the door immediately pulled you out of your trance and you realized what you were doing. It made you feel crazy for even thinking about it, but there you were, coming up with your own scenario, wondering who was at your door, ruining the whole thing for you.

You removed your fingers from your cunt and wiped them off with a tissue before pulling on some sleep shorts you had in the floor. You then let out a groan and headed to the door, contemplating on pretending that you weren’t home so you could go back to your fantasy.

You ripped the door open, fully prepared to yell at the person on the other side, but only let out a gasp as you saw who it was. And then, without another thought, you slammed the door closed, pushing yourself against it as you felt your chest rise and fall as your heart rate picked up.

He had heard you moan his name and now he was coming to complain, telling you that he thought it was weird and that you needed to knock it off. That had to be it, right? There was no way he was coming to help you…finish the job right? Maybe only in your dreams.

Once you had calmed down, you opened the door again, met with his smile that always made you melt. He was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt that was promoting his band, Corroded Coffin. How was it that he even looked hot in pajamas? God, you really needed to get laid.

“Hi,” you said, unsure of how else to greet him since it wasn’t every day that he was knocking on your door. In fact, he had never done that in the six months that you had lived there. It was odd to say the least.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I couldn’t help but overhear you, you know, thin walls. And I was wondering if…you wanted some help? Again, let me know if I completely misread the-“

Before Eddie could even finish his sentence, you pulled him into your apartment, letting the door slam behind him. You then pressed your lips to his in a messy kiss, the thing being all teeth and tongue as you both tried to satisfy your hunger for each other.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth as his hand moved down your panties, on the hunt for your pussy, and once he found it, he shoved his fingers inside you, a delicious moan falling from your lips.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” He chuckled as he pumped his fingers in and out, his lips right by the shell of your ear. “My fingers inside you? Could hear you begging for me, but don’t worry I’ll take care of you. Open you up so you’re wide enough for me.”

His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, but your underwear proved to be a problem, a barrier in the way of your pleasure. Before you could even ask him to take them off, they were already on the floor by your feet.

He then continued his work, watching you come undone just from his fingers, your head falling back and your loud moans and whines falling from your lips. You were so fucking hot. An angel for sure.

“Look so hot on my fingers, but I bet you’d look even hotter on my cock.”

“I second that,” you replied as another moan left your mouth. “Eddie-shit.”

“Look at you. Barely even did anything and you’re so close,” he chuckled. “I have to say, those sounds are even hotter without the wall to separate us. Come on,” he urged, curving his fingers and they hit just the right spot. “Cum for me angel. Wanna hear you scream my name.”

You did just that, a scream ripping through you, his name on your tongue, sounding so pretty coming from your mouth. He removed his fingers and waited until your eyes were open before holding his fingers out to you.

“Want a taste?” He asked, the words sounding so innocent, but seeing your slick covering his fingers, it just sounded so filthy. You had a feeling he had a dirty mouth.

You nodded furiously, wanting to know what you tasted like. Eddie grabbed onto your chin with his free hand and pushed your mouth open before slowly putting his fingers inside.

“Now suck.” You did as he asked, licking and sucking on his fingers, not even focused on how they tasted, his pretty brown eyes taking up your every thought. They were clouded with lust and you knew that just by looking into them that he could have gotten you into trouble if he knew that you’d do whatever he asked just by batting his long lashes.

A whine fell from his lips as he watched you, desperate to have you suck him off, but he wanted to get inside you first, wanting to know what it felt like with his cock bare. He was fully intending on pounding into you for hours on end, not wanting you to be able to walk for days.

“Good girl,” he said as he removed his fingers from you, your slick completely licked clean from them. “I think you deserve something for being so obedient.”

“You finally gonna fuck me?” You asked, your words coming out much more desperate than you intended.

“Yup,” he nodded and backed you up the wall that was right by your room. He pressed his lips to yours in a rough kiss, taking no time to slip his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. He then pulled away and pushed his pants and underwear down, your eyes immediately moving to his cock. It was large and veiny and you were even more wet thinking about where it was about to be.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Me neither. But I kind of like the idea of you not wearing one.” You were saying all the words he had been wanting to hear, almost as if you were in his head.

“Me too.”

“I’m on birth control so go for it. Please.”

Eddie grabbed onto the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slid inside you, not hesitating to pound into you. You moaned so loudly that he couldn’t help but do the same thing, not even able to control himself when he heard you make those pretty sounds.

“Sound so pretty, angel,” he said. “Make some more noise. Be as loud as you want. I want the whole building to know that I fucked you good.” He continued to pound into you, your sounds being music to his ears, letting him know that he was doing all of the right things.

You had fucked people, sure, but never with so much urgency, never with the man being just as needy as you. And he had such a way with words, able to make you close to cumming just by whispering the filthiest things into your ear.

He continued to pound into you, so close to cumming right there, his own moans falling from his lips. He looked so hot, soaked in sweat, the stuff clinging to his curls and weighing them down a bit. You could see a bit forming on the collar of his shirt and you were hoping that the piece of clothing would have been drenched by the time he was done with you.

You grabbed at his shirt, tugging on it with so much effort that you both paused when you heard ripping noise. You both looked down to see that the middle that ripped apart slightly, his white skin very visible underneath.

“Rip it,” he encouraged. “I’ve got a ton just like it.”

You ripped the shirt a little more then pulled it over his head, wanting to get rid of the thing entirely, his tattoo covered chest coming into view. You could feel yourself salivating as you found yourself wanting to run your tongue all over his torso.

Eddie could see the look in your eyes, pounding into you once more as you let vision went hazy, your orgasm ripping through you, his name falling from your lips just like he had been imagining for months.

He then pulled out, his cock still leaking with cum. Once you came down from your orgasm, he set you down and you pressed your lips to his, backing him up to the couch where you pushed him down. He loved seeing you like this, wanting you to take control and do whatever you wanted to him as he was pliant underneath you.

You removed your shirt and lowered yourself down onto him, your lips connecting with his collar bone you then moved down, licking and sucking as you did so, not wanting to leave any tattoo untouched. You could hear his stuttered breaths and his moans perfectly the walls no longer being a barrier. They were so clear and loud and you were eating it up, loving how you were able to make him come absolutely undone.

“Wow, look at you,” you said, grabbing onto his cock, giving it a slow stroke and he let out a gasp, his eyes looking blissed out, but he could definitely take some more. “Cumming so much that it’s all over you, baby. Need me to take care of you?”

“Please,” he whined and you smirked, removing your hand from him and taking his, guiding it to his cock.

“You’ve gotta jack off first. I want to see if it’s like what I’ve been imagining. If you close your eyes like I think you do. If you moan my name. Bet you do, don’t you Eddie?”

He put his hand at the base and moved it up and down just like he did in his bathroom so many times before. He let out a moan and you sat back and watched him, his eyes shutting tight as he did so. Cum leaked from it and you were salivating just thinking about sucking it all up. How it would taste.

He continued to move his hand back and forth, the most delicious moans falling from his lips, your name being his word of choice. He looked so fucking hot like that and knowing that you were the reason he was jacking off was even hotter.

“I think you’re ready for me,” you told him and he turned on the couch, his back lining up with the back of it and he spread his legs wide so he had space for you to fit.

“I’m ready,” he said through labored breaths and you took no time to grab the base and take him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head to test the waters, wanting to hear him beg for it.

You gave a small suck and looked up at him, his whine sounding like music to your ears. He let out another one and you decided to give him what he wanted, giving his cock a hard suck, your tongue moving back and forth the bottom of it. You rested your hand on his knee while the other gripped his balls, giving them a hard squeeze.

“Oh my god,” he moaned and that sounded like an invitation to continue. “Fuck, you’re really good at this.”

You removed your hand from the base and looked up at him as you took all of him into your mouth, a gasp escaping his. Your eyes watered, but you didn’t care. You were just so focused on pleasing him, hoping he’d fuck you again the next day.

You gave his balls another hard squeeze and spread his legs wider to give you more room to get closer. You continued to lick and suck, pulling even more sounds from him. He was now seeing stars and you could tell that he had finished when a large wad of cum leaked out onto your tongue.

You pulled him out of your mouth and looked him directly in the eye as you swallowed before standing from the floor, feeling your legs getting wobbly from the way he had just fucked you senseless. He was quick to grab you by the hands and stood up from the couch before gathering you into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Bedtime, hm?” He asked and it looked like you were about to argue, but he squeezed your hip, causing you to let out a yelp. “Don’t worry, angel. There’s more where that came from. But we’ll continue in the morning and I’ll eat you out since you were so generous with your mouth just now.”

He carried you to your room, laying you down onto it then pulling the covers over top of you. He then got in on the other side and pulled you to him, bare skin to bare skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before promising to be there in the morning before you both drifted off to sleep, dreaming of nothing but each other and what you had gotten up to. Both wishing that it was already morning so you could go for round two. There was no way it could ever be a one night stand.

[jamieenthusiast]

I yap about Forever + Falling with you

Forever being the end song to murder drones- and its lyrics being what they are

gives me the impression Murder Drones was a big love story about opening up and trust hidden under mounds of comedy and violence

And I dont mean that it ACTUALLY is, its more just.. a silly little feeling I get when i listen to it

Theres something about the song thats so... cozy? So like, softly spoken. A very hummable melody from one lover to another.

also falling with you, like what the fuck

never in my life have I felt a track was so carefully crafted- and prepared, carved out for two specific characters in one specific moment.

She made the choice to sacrifice herself- for him. In her eyes it was the end and if at the end of everything she could guarantee the life of one person it was going to be the one she loves, she didnt know what would be at the other end,

The thing is, he wanted to be there for her. Even when they're knocking on deaths door, he needs to be there.

Its like trust fall exercise, except the focus isnt on 'catch me' cause they'd never let the other fall,

its about making sure they dont fall when youre not looking. It hurts both parties, to crash without warning and to see the one you love fall

I *love* that they dont speak here. She looks to the side, shifting her glances before looking at him.

An unspoken guilt ridden apology.

The response he chooses?

forgiveness,

Even if the result of her actions hurt him- her intentions were good and meant to be entirely in favor of him

And in this moment, with their current history and with a yet to be seen future, he forgives her,

Cause at the very least, they're together again. He could save her.

And her look just, screams thank you to me.

Thank you for forgiving me, saving me-

for everything :) /ref

lighthearted preparation for whats to come :)

legitimately, what she says, reiterating herself "die mad bitch"

knowing theyre heading into the end of the world to prevent it?? Theyre going off to the fucking trenches together, key word this time being together

And then the horrible unexpected !

Uzi is ripped away from N, confronted with what her home has become, the universe is practically screaming at her to fix it, pushing her towards the end without mercy

But shes not doing it alone, she cant do it alone, not again, not this time

And he wouldnt let her

The universe could endlessly attempt to wield its cosmic grasp to push these two apart but itd never work, itd never end with them alone

Their love- their pure devotion to each other,

is so celestial in its own right

Not super related to my ramble but i love that in them becoming official (I will not call this a confession, N definitely confessed the previous episode)

Uzis so.. wagh.. her eyes.

That trademark look of panic or worry- I mean what would you expect from the black sheep of the colony? Being excluded on the daily, left to your own abandoned devices?? The reassurance she was requesting just, ughh.. my heart...

and the way. He fucking looks at her

Its so, soft. He knows she has not a thing to worry about. His heart is completely and utterly hers. Where most would die for their love, he lives for her.

The universe would be dammed to ever try and separate pure unbridled love like this ever again

ERM< ANYWAY that was super gay ew idk why im like. obsessed with their relatinshuio ahhajfhdgjbsjhfm someone blow me up

[confuzing]

I have this idea for an SVSSS fic where SQQ winds up regularly sharing dreams with both his LBH and OGLBH. I'd need to do a reread for it but I'm gonna post the broad strokes because I can't stop rotating it in my mind.

It's Abyss time but SQQ puts his foot down. No he's not pushing his Binghe into the Abyss, shut up System. Oh you're going to kill him? Then do it.

Then he throws his sword away and pulls LBH away from the Abyss.

SQQ: Ok honey I'm maybe about to drop dead but it's not your fault ok?

LBH: WHAT???

And then the System does indeed try to rip SQQ's soul out- except LBH, right there and terrified, mentally grabs hold of his Shizun's soul and won't let go.

MQF rolls up to a fucking nightmare, SQQ is in the process of having his soul ripped out by some kind of mystery curse? LBH is burning through his own supply of qi to stop it but that's a napkin on a stab wound- Liu Qingge put your sword down right now! Yes MQF can see LBH's part demon, now help him keep SQQ alive or fuck off - you too Sect Leader!

Meanwhile the System is glitching out, and decides to initiate a Punishment Protocol because this mess is all SQQ's fault and he won't die like a good user.

So it dumps him in the dreams of OGLBH, who's just been pushed in the Abyss by his own Shizun.

Faced with a very upset teen Binghe, SQQ does the only thing that he can. He hugs that boy and tells him none of this is his fault and he didn't do anything wrong.

It probably only works because OGLBH is very upset and desperate for comfort- and when OGLBH said "SQQ??" incredulously SQQ says "No, I'm sorry I know I look like him" and this man doesn't act like the SQQ he knows at all, and he gives really good hugs.

SQQ is stuck in OGLBH's dreams when he's not just... nowhere and after a few more short hug sessions (OGLBH can't usually sleep for long) OGLBH finally asks who exactly SQQ is then?

Right around this time MQF figures out how to stabilize SQQ without requiring LBH to be awake and actively channeling qi the whole time. So LBH passes the f out and goes to look for his Shizun, turning up right when SQQ is dreaming with OGLBH.

After a little Binghe stand off SQQ sits them both down and decides to just, tell them everything -he can here, the System can't stop him and it's already killing him what else can it do?

So he tells them about parallel universes, and his own original world, about Proud Immortal Demon Way, and his decision, upon waking up in his favorite book in the villian's body, to meddle every way he could. He tells them about the System and explains that it probably sent him here thinking OGLBH would hurt him, thinking he was OGSQQ. Everything.

Eventually MQF and a bunch of other cultivators untangle SQQ from the System, letting his soul come back to his body but leaving that door open between his mind and OGLBH's.

From there I just have ideas I'd want to explore, some of my favorites:

-OGLBH finding out about Without a Cure and that SQQ isn't telling his Binghe about the easy fix and having to decide if he's going to spill the beans or not.

-Every time I think about what to do with SQH I wind up thinking about what would probably be a whole side fic of court wranglings, political assassinations and interspecies dating drama after SQH runs away to hide with MBJ when SQQ wakes up and goes "you're cursed too right?"

-Both Binghes and their Meng Mos coming along on SQQ's scenic tour of SJ's traumatic backstory (I just need SQQ to hug that little tea-soaked Binghe only for him to split into the two older Binghes because when they entered this memory both of them inhabited the baby Binghe's avatar)

- The whole sect deciding that actually LBH is their half demon son and none of the other sects better even look at him funny. (The biggest reason for this might be SQQ waking up from being cursed and immediately threatening to kill everyone in the room and then himself if anything happens to LBH even though he can't even sit up. Also like, the kid's been crying nonstop for days now, not exactly scary demon behavior. Kid needs a hug and some juice)

-A very fraught conversation when OGLBH gets out of the Abyss where he tells SQQ he's going back to the mountain and SQQ refuses to ask him not to kill everyone because he knows exactly what OGLBH suffered at the hands of those alternate versions of the people SQQ loves.

-Every now and the the Binghes just meet up to hiss at each other like angry cats

[mintiicinnamonii]

“hello ma’am! can i date your grandson?”

pairing: ororon x reader

synopsis: you’re dating ororon. citlali isn’t having it.

“hello ma’am! may i date your grandson??”

You and Ororon were dating; everyone in the Masters of the Night-Wind knew. The second Ororon saw you walk into their tribe’s territory as a courier from the Scions of the Canopy, they all had accepted that their hero Ororon was smitten. Everyone, except Citlali. Ah yes, the second most eclectic yet infamous person in the entire tribe. Being the tough ‘granny’ she was, the second she heard that you were dating her GRANDSON, she did not approve. Even Ororon’s pleas wouldn’t convince her. He even tried the ‘but Granny, I love them!’ trick. Zilch, zada, nothing. You could always feel her icy blue eyes staring into your soul whenever you so much as said hi to Ororon. Hell, when you two were on a date once, she was fucking SPYING ON YOU IN THE BUSHES. 

You knocked on Ororon’s door, clearing your throat as you fixed your hair. You were carrying a bouquet of Saurian Claw Succulents, since you knew he liked those flowers besg. The two of you were planning to go aphid-watching and haave a little picnic, since besides gardening, Ororon didn’t have many hobbies, and you honestly felt bad for dragging him along with your tribe’s extreme sporting tournaments. Poor guy. 

“Oh. It’s YOU.”

You froze, blinking one eye at a time like a gecko as Citlali groaned, hand on her hip. “Oh.. hey, Granny Itzili.. what a nice surprise-“ Even though she was shorter than you, she was still very intimidating, in a strange way. “Listen, messenger. I want Ororon home by 10 PM.” You piped up awkwardly. “But the aphids don’t wake up til 9:30…” You scratched the back of your neck. She scoffed, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. “Oh, shut it, youngster. I don’t care that everyone says you’re perfect for my grandson, I don’t care that you’re well-known across Natlan. I still don’t like you! And I bet you don’t either!” 

Wait, what?

“I actually do like you.. I’m happy that Ororon has people beaides me that care for him so much.. Especially someone as dedicated as you.” Citlali’s eyes widened, letting go of your collar as she soghed, thinking for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.. Fine. Jst.. bring him home by midnight.” You smiled. “Oh! Thanks ma’am-“ Before you could continue, she cut you off. “But remember this, youngster…” Her voice darkened, taking on a threatening and protective edge. “I have eyes all over Natlan.” 

As you and Ororon sat watching the aphids, you marveled at the glimmer in your boyfriend’s eyes. He had loved the flowers, which rested on the side of the hill you both were sitting on. The night was clear, and a basket full of your favorite treats was at the ready. He looked so happy.. a smile slowly crept up on your face as you listened to him ramble about the insects with such joy. Your hand slowly crept to his waist, pulling him closer to you as you enjoyed the moment. Ororon was completely immersed in the moment, not paying attention at all. But you heard a voice from inside of your head. Citlali’s voice.

“Get your hand off there!”

You chuckled, removing the hand at her request. “Damn, she really was serious when she said that she had eyes all over Natlan.” Ororon stopped for a moment, raising a brow. “You say something?” You jolted, chuckling. “It’s nothing babe.”

[freelancearsonist]

Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile. 

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face. 

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality. 

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

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[kennedyalike]

sex with leon after a fight like jealousy or something idk 🤭🤭

all mine

hope you like this, sorry if it isn’t what you hoped for!!

pairing: leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags: jealousy, possesiveness, p in v sex, car sex, semi public sex

summary: leon sees you working out with carlos and can’t help but feel jealous

word count: 1,78k

you: comin’ to get me?

leon: i’m already in the parking lot, can i come in?

you: be my guest

The gym wasn’t your favorite place, but you had to do what you had to do. While squatting up a huge barbell, your eyes can’t help but to gaze at the door, wondering when Leon would come in. Suddenly the barbell feels lighter and you snap back to reality.

”Hey, focus!” Carlos grunts behind you as he helps you lift the barbell back to the rack. You sigh and stretch your legs quickly, pulling yourself back in the moment. ”Go again. I’ll help, okay?” He reassures you as you lift the barbell back onto your shoulders again. Widening your stance and fixing your posture, you get ready to squat.

Carlos’ hands finds itself grabbing your waist on both sides to help you keep your form. He pulls himself closer, hip almost joining yours as he watches you squat down slowly. You almost forgot all about Leon, focusing on squatting this thing. As you come up and lift the barbell back to its rack, you turn around to Carlos and smile. ”I did it!”

He smiles back at you while you hold your hand up, waiting for a high five. Instead, he pulls you into a hug and you accept it, chuckling as you wrap your arms around him. Carlos’ hands grab your waist again as he hugs you. Over his shoulder, you see Leon standing at the door, waiting for you.

You quickly pull out of the hug and say your goodbyes to Carlos. ”See you monday, lookin’ good!” He compliments you and you nod back, grabbing your gym bag and walking towards Leon. As you walk, he just stares your body up and down the whole way until you’re in front of him, waving your hand jokingly across his face. ”Eyes up here, Leon.” You tease him, but he only looks past you, his brows furrowed. He seems annoyed.

He grabs your arm and practically drags you out of the gym. If Leon knew this was what you were doing at the gym, he wouldn't have allowed you to go there in the first place. Who was he to decide that anyways? He was a friend, just like Carlos. A friend. Except he wasn’t. He was far more than a friend but he wasn’t your boyfriend either. You both knew it was more than friends. Couple dates, hangouts, calls and maybe you two did fuck on occasion, who knows?

Leon wasn’t as dumb as you, Carlos was a good ”friend” you met at the gym who offered to help you to ”keep your form” or whatever. Bullshit. Leon saw right through it just now. The way Carlos’ hands sneaked around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as you squat in front of him. He definitely had ulterior motives, he wasn’t just helping you. But of course, you were too innocent and oblivious to understand.

You furrow your brows in concern while you follow Leon to his car in the parking lot, letting him slightly drag you. ”Leon, is something wrong?” You hesitate to ask as he opens the backseat door of his car for you. Quietness follows and it makes you uneasy, you begin to wonder if Leon is actually jealous of Carlos. Maybe that was your plan all along.

You settle your bag into the legroom and sit, grabbing the door to close it until Leon stops you, suddenly getting into the back seat with you and closing the door after him. Before even beginning to speak, you’re interrupted by his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. A blush creeps on your cheeks as you grab his shoulders and ground yourself, settling both thighs on the sides of his. ”Naughty girl.” Your eyes widen from confusion but you feel your stomach flutter from his words, sending a small sensation down between your thighs.

”You’re not even gonna say anything, hm?” He asks angrily. ”What do you mean, Leon?” You ask confusedly as you look at his annoyed face. He scoffs in return and you feel his grip on your hips tighten. ”You and him, stop that shit.” He says and you can’t help the small smirk forming in the corner of your mouth as you grind into him slightly.

”Are you jealous, Leon?” You tease him as you drag your fingers across his stern chest, looking up at him innocently. He looks away in annoyance and sighs. You continue looking at his face, seemingly unamused. ”He’s just a friend, means nothing bad, I promise.” You say honestly as your hand caresses his cheek, prompting him to look at you. His gaze finally turns to look you in the eyes. ”How would you feel if I went and grabbed some girl's waist while she squats in front of me, huh?”

Your hand never leaves his cheek as you think about it for a second. It would feel horrible, Leon looking at some other woman than you, grabbing her waist like he’s grabbing yours right now. You nod slowly. ”I get it. m’ sorry.” You apologize and nervously look away. He leans in closer to you, whispering to your ear. ”Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart.” His deep voice whispering to your ears sends a tingle down your body as you gasp slightly. ”W-What?”

”You heard me.”

”How?”

He smirks at your words and looks down at your lap, grinding your hips into his and you feel his erection through your gym shorts. ”B-But someone could see us..” You say unsurely as you try to deny the heat that was growing between your thighs. The thought of Leon taking you right here, where someone could see was getting you so wet. ”Then let them see.” The last word of his sentence mumbles quietly as his lips join yours in a kiss. He’s hungrily kissing you, while grinding your hips down on his painfully erect cock.

You grind into him and wrap your arms around his shoulders as you keep kissing him back. The sensation of his soft lips dominating over yours feels as amazing as ever. He was right, you were his and you were gonna prove it to him. His other hand trails up your body from your hips to your tits, he fondles them through your gym shirt, causing you to moan into the kiss slightly. You tilt your head to the left and let him press kisses into your neck. Rough kisses that would definitely leave a mark.

Your body shivers as he breathes into your neck, still pressing kisses. You whimper and grind your hips into his, desperate for some friction to your cunt. ”Show me how sorry you are, ride me.” He whispers into your ear again and you only nod frantically. ”Good girl.” He praises as you take off your shirt, leaving you in your busty bra as you start inching your gym shorts off. His big hands come to your aid as he slips them off, leaving you in your underwear.

You forgot all about your surroundings as you straddle his lap again, starting to unbuckle his belt while he carefully watches you, feeling proud of your obedience. You eagerly unbuckle his belt and push his pants down to his knees, boxers coming with them. His cock is fully erect and it stands against his clothes abdomen. You immediately grab it with your hands and start stroking it up and down. Leon groans from the contact as his hands find your hips, trying to pull you on top of his cock already.

His length was veiny, long and girthy, tip leaking with a small bead of precum as you stroke it a couple times before lifting your hips on top of him. His fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Slowly you guide his tip to your wet hole and you can basically feel yourself clenching around nothingness. You whine as you slowly start sitting down, pushing his cock deeper into you. His heavy breathing against your neck as you grab his shoulders with both hands and he grabs your hips, slamming you down on his cock.

”Oh my god!” You whine as he fully sheathed himself in you and starts bucking his hips up, fucking into you roughly. The stretch of his cock in you without any foreplay hurt at first, the burning contact as he fucks into you as he pleases. He lets out small breathy moans as he continues his pace, pampering your neck with suckling kisses as you turn into a whiny mess on top of him.

”Leon, s’ too much!” You moan into his ear as the slight pain starts turning into pleasure. Your pussy clenches around his cock while he pounds into you, forgetting that you were supposed to ride him. ”You can take it, right, baby?” He mocks you while lifting your hips up slightly so he could gain a better angle.

”Apologize, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

”F-fuck! M’ sorry-Ah! Leon-h!” You desperately moan as he pounds into you. Wet sounds of your pussy wanting him even deeper echo in the car, you forget all about your surroundings as you start meeting his thrusts, broken moans escaping your mouth as you listen to him groan from the feeling. ”Good girl, just like that. Fuck, so tight.”

His other hand leaves your hips and sneaks down to circle around your clit as you keep lifting your hips up and down on his lap, rutting his cock inside you. ”Please, Leon..” You desperately whine when his thumb rubs on your clit, causing your pussy to clench on his cock, trying to milk it dry.

”Cum, it’s okay.” He reassures as his hips start picking up the pace again, feeling himself come closer to the edge of orgasm as well. Babbling incoherent ”m’ sorry’s” and his name all over again, you let go of the feeling and feel yourself cumming on his cock. You moan loudly as you lean towards his chest, basically hugging him as your body does numb and the orgasm washes over you. Leon keeps holding your hips with both hands, rummaging a few sloppy thrusts into your clenching hole until he finally is satisfied and releases his cum into you. He holds your hips close to his and tucks your hair behind your ears. While small whimpers still leave your mouth, he whispers into your ear. ”You’re all mine, d’ya understand?”

[1whore1gang]

it’s the little things 🤍

In which the TF141 become toddlers.

This idea has been stirring in my brain for awhile.

Imagine some weird force of magic nature turns the boys into cute little toddlers, you and price being forced to care for Soap, Ghost and Gaz.

It makes things awkward at first, but you and him find a groove as you figured out how to not only fix this, but find a way to hide it from Shephard.

Cute little enemies to lovers in a way lol

(yes this is gonna be a series)

Part 2 here

ENJOY PART 1 FRIENDS!! 🤍

You sat up in bed, waking up from a loud bang that came from down the hall. “The hell…?” You said groggily. You swung your feet over the bed, going to investigate what that bang was.

Deep down, you knew it was just Soap in the kitchen making food, especially at this hour, but you’d usually hear a loud “Sorry!” for the noise. You approached the kitchen when another loud bang happened, signaling pots and pans had fallen, but this time it was followed with…a child crying?

Your feet quickened as you turned into the doorway to see a small boy, maybe less than 2 years old sitting on the ground, a pot over his head, muffling his crying. You panicked seeing a small child on the base, knowing none of you had children. “Hey sweetheart. You’re okay!” You cooed as you removed the pit from the child’s head, trying to comfort him. When you saw the face of the little one, you froze.

Blinking a few times and rubbing your eyes, you thought you were for sure in a dream. In front of you, sat a sad child with cobalt blue eyes and a small brunette mohawk shaved in the baby hair on his head. “What?”

You picked him up, rocking him on your hip to get him to hush down and quiet his crying. You stared adamantly. Surely this wasn’t actually Soap right? Somebody had to be playing a prank on you. This isn’t Soap, somebody just took their own baby and dressed it up as Soap to prank you, yeah that’s right. You nodded to yourself and turned to go interrogate people when the baby cooed and grabbed sweetly at your hair, smiling and giggling as you spoke. The little blue eyes looked up at you in adoration, but then his head laid on your shoulder contently, cooing again.

You shook your head and went searching for anyone who might be awake. You knew Ghost didn’t sleep much, so you went to his room, trying to find someone else who saw this little baby too, proving you weren’t going crazy.

You knocked on his door, expecting the grunt of ‘its open’, but no noise came. You knocked again and heard some of his sheets move. He’s always awake during this time, so no response was weird.

Slowly turning the doorknob, you blinked to adjust your eyes to the darkness of Ghost’s room. You prayed he was awake, and not doing anything that’d make you regret bursting in like this. “Simon…?” You said cautiously, trying to audiably scan the room. You moved your way over to his bed, the little baby who looked like Soap still contently clinging onto your side and shoulder.

Once you approached his bed, you turned on a lamp to see a little child, the same as the one you’re holding, dressed like Ghost with similar features, except he wasn’t crying or asleep, he was chewing on the foot in his mouth. “Get that out of there. Come here.” You picked him up, getting a good look at him.

You easily thought this was definitely some sort of prank now. There’s no way this is a coincidence. You shook your head as the Soap baby whined and reached out for Ghost. You froze.

The baby who looked like Ghost simply sat on your hip, his head turning as the little baby who looked like Soap reached out with grabby hands towards him, whining.

You watched as their hands met and both babies calmed against you. “There’s no fucking way.” You sat and thought a moment. “Johnny honey?” The little boy’s face perked up as you said his name. “Simon sweetheart?” The other little boy looked up at you with wide eyes hearing his own name too. “Oh god, it IS you!”

You bursted out of the room, both boys on your hips, trying to find Gaz and Price. You found Gaz’s room first, bustling through the door to find your worst fear. Gaz’s little self was spread out, mouth drooling as he slept on his massive bed. “Oh no…” You adjusted Ghost over to your hip with Johnny, the two quickly falling into a sleep being next to each other, placing a sleeping Gaz on your free hip. “You boys are heavy for being so tiny.”

You felt a panic settle in your chest as you approached Price’s room, fearing the worst.

Knocking on the wood of his door, you questioned yourself for the action until a fully adult Price answered the door, staring down at you with wide eyes. “What is this? It’s 2am?”

“It’s the boys. This one’s Soap, here’s-“

“I see that, and the resemblance but why are you doing this at this hour Y/N?” He was annoyed, I knew that. There was some sense of relief though knowing I wasn’t the only adult here.

“Listen, I know we don’t get along but something is going on. Watch this.” You cleared your throat as you cooed the boys’ names, each one responding with a giggle or a smiley wide-eyed look. “Tell me these littles aren’t our coworkers?”

Price stared down at you as you held all three of them, your back obviously hurting. “Give me Gaz.” Price reached out and took one of your hands. Soap and Ghost were awake again, but you chuckled as you watched little Gaz drool all over Price’s sleep shirt. “Have you found out who’s pulled this prank?”

“I don’t think it’s a prank Price, how else do you explain-OW!” You looked down, seeing a sad Soap, on the verge of tears. You see Ghost’s little hand still raised, entangled in your hair. “Simon!” You silently asked Price to let him come in, and he stepped aside without a word.

You set Soap down on Price’s bed, watching as he plopped back onto the bed, still sniffling. You held Ghost to where he could see your face as you spoke to him. “You do not pull hair! You know this!” Ghost just blinked and titled his head. “You hurt me!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, Soap began to cry. You sighed as you set Ghost down and picked up Soap, cooing him. His little eyes were roaming your face as his sniffled and cried. “I’m okay! He just pulled my hair!” You said sweetly. This was very much like the adult Soap you knew. If you even hissed in pain, he was right there checking over every inch of you to make sure you were okay.

You heard a little grunt as you look down to see Ghost looking up at you with little grabby hands and a straight face. The only noise coming out were little grunts. You couldn’t help but laugh as you looked at Price. “That’s actually really cute.”

Price let out a single chuckle, “That’s Simon for ya. So run me through what happened?” You look up to see him rocking a half asleep Gaz on his hip. It makes your heart ache, seeing him in such a state.

You set the three littles down on his bed as you and him sat down at his kitchen table. (Being a captian has perks). He had brewed some coffee as you got Soap and Ghost to quiet down for sleep.

You both sat as you recalled the series of events that brought you to his room. “I was freaking that I’d find you as one too.” You laughed a little.

You and Price were never really on good terms, you were too alike and hard headed that you were always arguing about something, but right now, you felt at ease. “I still don’t understand why we aren’t i. their state right now.” Price spoke, nodding towards the three toddlers dead asleep on his bed.

“Me neither.” You shook your head, scouring your brain for any answers. “What’re we gonna tell people in the morning. They’re gonna notice.”

“Luckily, if we stick to this corner of the compound and this wing’s kitchen and common areas, no one will know. We get lucky having our own private sector. Outside of that, I don’t know, we’ll have to venture away to get supplies for them. We have no idea how long they’ll be like this.”

You sighed as it hit you, “That never hit me until now. We’ll need baby food and supplies. I’ll be honest, I’ve never had to take care of any kid that little, I don’t know what I’m doing. What kind of formula to buy…” Uou turned your head to see your captian smiling.

“Did you know MacTavish was breast fed?”

Your eyes widened. “Okay first of my body can’t even do that, I don’t have any kids. Even if it did, no way.”

Price let out a chuckle, “I’m only teasin’ ya.” You looked at him in confusion, he never did this. “But we have to find a way to make this work, and try to figure out what caused this.”

You let out a large yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to work together-“

“Like that always turns out well.” You both nod in agreement as he finished your sentence. “Why don’t I watch them for a bit while you get some rest? In the morning, we’ll go to the store and try to get as much as we can to take care of the buggers.”

You looked at him for a minute, “Wake me if you need to switch out, ok?” You stood to go to your room, but he stopped you.

“Sleep on my couch, it pulls out. That way you’re not too far if I need ya.” You parted your lips in an exhale as you moved to lay down on the couch. You were confused at Price’s actions, not knowing why he was acting so kind when usually you were quite snippy with each other.

But, you would take it.

——

“Sit still!” You quietly scolded as Gaz was squirming in the shopping cart.

“I think he wants to be held.” Price said, scooping him up, which immediately calmed little Gaz. You sighed as you set Soap and Ghost in the shopping cart’s seat. The two of them were half asleep still, droopy eyes and small cooes.

“Let’s just get in and out before anyone sees us.” You said, grabbing some formula off the shelf. “I hope this one’s okay?” You turn the can to show Price and he nods.

“I never realized how expensive this shit is.” He says, running his finger over the price tag below it. “Wow.”

“I know. It’s insanity.” You give him a straight smile as you both continue through the store, having an old lady compliment how cute your boys were. You have her a cordial ‘thank you’, trying to hide the red of embarrassment creeping onto your face.

As quickly as you entered the store, you exited quicker, checking out with speed.

You had two crying babies while Price installed the car seats. You tried your best to load the groceries in, cooing the boys. “Sshh, you’re okay. Why won’t they stop-“ You stopped your sentence as you felt Soap try to latch onto your breast through your shirt. You peeled him off, staring at him. “Price.”

“Hm?” You saw his head pop up as he finished installing the seats.

“I think they’re hungry…”

“We’ll feed them at the base.” Price watched as you looked at Soap in a mix of confusion and horror. He watched you quickly load the boys in as you became quiet. He was curious what had you all locked up.

Returning to base, you and Price tag teamed unloading everything and warming up three bottles. As soon as the boys were fed, the crying subsided and you felt yourself ease into the back of the couch, your eyes closing.

“You okay? You kind of closed up earlier?” You were laying there with Soap laying drowsily on your chest, Ghost in your lap. Price’s voice made you hum.

“Yeah, just had something happen.”

“What happened?”

“Soap tried to latch himself onto my breast in the middle of the parking lot.”

Price let out a snort and your eyes shot open. It was a sound you’d never heard. “Sorry, I warned ya the lad was breastfed.” He shrugged with a cocky look.

“Why don’t we get these boys down for a nap? I could use the time to catch up on paperwork.” You said, hoisting all three boys into your grasp, struggling but managing.

You went to your room, where there was a good sized playpen, big enough for all three boys to sleep comfortably. You set them down, tucking them in, then heading to your office.

Hours had passed when Price poked his head in, Ghost on his hip, Gaz in the chest carrier he bought. “You hungry? It’s around time for dinner.”

“Uh, not really but if you made something?”

“No, I was gonna see what you thought sounded good.” Price was a sight with two of the boys clinging to him.

You parted your lips to answer, then paused before responding. “I’ll come find you when I’m finished, but don’t wait for me to eat. If you’re hungry, I’ll catch up.” Price shot you a straight smile before dipping out, leaving you to the stack of papers claddered around your desk.

You finally rubbed your eyes, submitting your final report. Looking to the time, you saw it was almost 9:30. You silently cursed yourself. It had been 5:00 when Price popped in.

Rising from your chair, you go to your room, seeing the boys asleep. Price is sitting in a chair, reading a book. “I’m sorry, I got caught up-“

“All good, did you happen to stop in the kitchen?” He closed the book and stood, tucking it under his arm.

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Did they go down okay?”

He nods, a straight expression coming across his face. “No problems. Im gonna turn in for the night, come find me if you need me during the night.” He brushed past you, leaving the room quiet as his footsteps dissolved into the night.

You stared down at the three little boys. “You sure are cute. Im never gonna let any of you live this down.”

With that, you laid down for the night, finally resting. You thought about your interactions with Price throughout the day, he was never this cordial with you, nor were you with him.

What was it about your coworkers being children that made you both act so differently?

[joshsindigostreak]

After Midnight

“‘Cause nothing good comes after midnight…”

Demon!Jake Kiszka x Reader

Authors Note: Hello lovelies!! This was a special request from our dear @gold-mines-melting to get a better look at how our Hatman!Jake was fairing in the world. This was super fun to write and my first official Jake smut!! I hope you enjoy him as much as I do ❤️

Word count: 8.1K

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex (but he’s a demon so…wrap it up IRL!), oral sex f!receiving, brief discussions of Hell, swearing, but I think that’s it!

For Demons, the time around Halloween was a fun one. The veil was thinner, the air crisper, and humans let their guards down for the off chance of experiencing anything “spooky.” Multiple human cultures acknowledged the thinning of the veil, but very few truly understood what it meant. Not only were Spirits at their most active, but other beings were more abundant as well.  Jake was a Demon who fed on fear. Didn’t matter if it was a glimmer of anxiety, or a massive phobia, the energy of fear was everywhere.

Tonight, a full week before Halloween, the Demon was checking out a new apartment building, one he hadn’t been quite familiar with just yet, when a group of giggles echoed through the ether and met his ears. He followed the sound and found himself in a tiny apartment, dimly lit with only a scattering of candles and strings of orange and purple lights that lined the walls and door frames. A group of young women sat on the floor, surrounding the coffee table, all in different Halloween costumes. Jake’s presence was invisible and undetected, which allowed him to lean against the wall and observe. 

His eyes scanned the group, eventually landing on you in the middle of your friends. Your costume wasn’t much, just a thin white nighty with some cheap Angel wings fixed on your back. The human interpretation of Angels was laughable, given the true nature of such creatures. Always decked out in all white, implying purity and piety, soft feathery wings that rivaled a dove’s. It made the Demon roll his eyes. Out of his brothers, he had had the “pleasure” of interacting with such beings the most over the years. If only humans knew that the creatures they perceived as “nurturing” and “protective” didn’t actually care about them as people but as cogs in the machine known as “The Greater Good.”

Angels were geniuses at marketing. 

However, the sight of you with your Party City set of wings was endearing to Jake. He wished he hadn’t had such a sordid history with Angels so that he could appreciate the aesthetic fully, but he couldn’t help that. But the way your hair fell over your shoulders, bare except for the thin spaghetti strap of your “dress”, and the way the candles lit your face from where you sat, had the Demon’s interest peaked. He pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and took a few silent steps forward, curious as to what you and your friends were huddled around on the coffee table. 

He almost let out a chuckle when he saw what had the group in such a heated debate: a ouija board. 

“If you even think about using that thing I’m going to leave,” your friend Claire hissed from her spot on the couch while she sipped whatever beverage she had concocted in your kitchen. 

“Bitch please, you are not, it’s a kids game for fucks sake,” your other friend Nora rolled her eyes from the other side of the coffee table while she examined the lid of the box. 

“They just creep me out. Haven’t you heard about them opening doors to things if you’re not careful?” 

“I highly doubt a mass produced piece of cardboard that's sold around the world is a true door to Hell, Claire,” Nora reasoned. 

Claire bristled, “Well you guys can have fun with it, I’m not participating.” 

They were both right in different ways. Inherently the “game” didn’t do much in terms of anything spiritual, but humans had a habit of knocking on doors they aren’t supposed to, and Demons never resisted fucking with them in return. Unfortunately for these girls, a Demon was already in the room with them, and the corners of his mouth were twitching at the thought of giving them a good scare during their party. 

Finally, your wine-induced opinion was heard, “I mean why not? Its October after all. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Very Angelic of you. 

Jake immediately loved the sound of your voice, and sat down in the empty spot across from you and next to Nora. 

His presence didn’t go fully unnoticed, with Nora rubbing her arms through the cheap fabric of her Witches costume, which consisted of a short black dress and a stereotypical pointed hat on her head. 

“Is anyone else cold?” 

She was met with everyone shaking their heads at her. 

“Weird.” 

Jake could feel the anxiety in the room start to build, and he knew it was only going to get better. 

You set your wine glass down on the end table and joined Nora in placing your fingertips on the planchette. The two of you took turns asking random questions, and it was clear to Jake that Nora was trying to move the planchette herself for shits and giggles. 

But now, it was Jake’s turn to start answering. 

“Is there anyone with us, right now?” Nora dramatically asked with her eyes closed. The Demon to her left took the opportunity to nudge the planchette over the “YES” portion of the board. 

“Oh we’re not alone,” you joked and laughed with the girls. 

You had no idea, Jake thought. 

“Are you a ghost, then?” You asked into the air. 

Amused, Jake guided the planchette to the “NO”. 

At that, he saw your fingertips twitch on the plastic surface, and he heard your heart quicken in your chest. 

“I fucking told you to not mess with-” Claire started to protest. 

“If you’re not a ghost, then what are you?” 

Now the fun would really begin. 

Jake slowly moved the planchette around the board, spelling out,

“N-O-T-A-G-H-O-S-T”. 

Nora looked down at the board, “we know that,” she said defiantly. 

“Nora,” you lightly scolded, “don’t be rude to the spirit!”

Nora shrugged, not phased, “Oh spirit of olde, where are you from?”

Jake smirked, 

“H-E-L-L”

Your hands paused as the second L was magnified under the planchette, and looked up at Nora. 

“Oh of course the big bad spirit is from Hell,” your friend was openly mocking whoever it was you were speaking to. 

“Is Hell fun?”

You title your head and narrowed your eyes, “it's Hell, Nora.” 

“What? Maybe it's fun for them?” 

Jake silently nudged your hands to the YES. The mounting anxiety that was oozing off of Claire and the other girls was delicious. 

“Come on, Nora you’re just moving it yourself,” one of your other friends voiced from her spot on the couch next to Claire, unimpressed.

“I am not!” she hissed. The accusation appeared to have shifted her mood and she put her hands in her lap, “whatever, I’m bored and I need a refill.”

She got up in a huff and exited into your tiny kitchen. The rest of the girls followed after her, needing refills themselves. That left you all alone with your fingers still resting on the planchette. 

Softly, you murmured, “sorry about her…she can be a lot.” You had no idea if you were even speaking to anyone, and felt a little dumb, but it was Spooky Season, and you needed some whimsy in your life. 

Jake however, was utterly entranced by you across the coffee table. He sat there, eyes traveling around your face and down your body. The flickering light from the candles lit your features in such a delicate way. He watched as you blushed in embarrassment. You shook your head at yourself, mumbling about how stupid that was to say. You reached for your wine glass and gulped down the little you still had. He studied the way your fingers held the stem of the glass, how your lips fit against the rim, how your eyes fluttered shut as the wine hit your tongue, and how your throat bobbed slightly as you swallowed. 

If you could have seen the Demon in front of you, you would have seen how his soft eyes followed your every movement. You would have seen the dark brown irises he always chose when he wanted to look more human, eyelids heavy and dark circles underneath. He couldn’t look away. 

There wasn’t any fear in the room now, only curiosity from Jake himself. 

But you couldn’t see him. You didn’t know he was truly there. In your eyes, you were tipsy and had just played a slumber party game with your friends. You weren’t talking to a Spirit of any kind, it was just Nora fucking with everyone as she always did. You rolled your eyes at yourself and got up off the floor. In silence you put the ouija board back in the box along with the planchette, ready to move on to other activities you had planned. 

In your buzzed state, you forgot one of the rules to using a Ouija board, which was to always say goodbye to whomever you were speaking to. It was a formality to close any ‘doors’. You hadn’t done that. You simply scooped up your glass and headed into the kitchen to join your friends. That left the Demon alone in your living room. 

Jake contemplated staying around, just to see how the night went, but his ears started ringing, and he could tell his talents were needed elsewhere. It was better for his best interest to head out anyway. The Demon sighed and rose off the floor, giving one last glance through the archway into your kitchen. You and your guests had moved on to tequila shots and arguing over what movie you were going to watch next. Tequila after wine? He knew your human body would be regretting that in the morning. 

He smiled at you one last time before disappearing from your apartment, off to see one of his regulars who had a penchant for Benadryl. 

~!~

In one the many gardens of Hell, the young Demon found himself wandering down a path lined with thick and tangled rose bushes. The petals ranged from bright red to deep purple, all twisting and growing together in ways they couldn’t naturally on earth. He wasn’t in the gardens much, but it was his twin’s turn to pick the meeting place, and this was one of Josh’s favorite places. 

Jake rounded the corner and caught sight of Josh, perched on a stone bench with his newly gifted wings stretched out behind him, face tilted towards the eternally sunset sky, eyes closed. 

“You’re late,” he said as he flexed his wings. 

“You’re the last person to tell anyone they’re late for anything,” Jake replied warmly before sitting down next to him. 

“Sam and Danny can’t make it. Something to do with business they each had Topside,” Josh opened his eyes and looked over at Jake. 

“You’d know all about Topside business, brother. How is she anyway?” 

A toothy grin formed on his brother’s face, “Amazing, as always.” 

Jake had to admit, the situation with Josh and the human hadn’t turned out too bad in the end. He had only met her a few times but he liked seeing how happy his brother was, and he was comforted knowing she had been a big part of that. 

“What about you? Have you been terrorizing humanity with your threatening presence? Even in that ridiculous hat?” Josh nudged Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake rolled his eyes, “you laugh but this hat and my presence are synonymous with nightmares. They blog about it on the internet.” 

“Memes. The height of Demonic achievement.” 

“Shut up,” Jake said with a soft laugh. His thoughts drifted back to you, and how he spied on your party. It had only been a few days since that night, and he couldn’t get you or your little wings out of his head. He’d close his eyes and the sight of how the candles lit your face would flood his thoughts. He had only seen you for less than an hour but he was enamored, besotted, lovestruck. It was such an unfamiliar feeling he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Humans had never particularly caught his eye in his unnaturally long life. But here he was, stewing over the pretty girl in the Angel wings. 

“Who is it?” Josh asked. He knew something was up with Jake. 

“Who is what?” Jake tried to hide the defensiveness in his voice. 

“Whoever has you zoning out that hard. You haven’t been listening to a thing I’ve said in the last two minutes.” 

“Yes I have.”

“What was I saying?”

Jake’s mouth twisted in a frown, “doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.” 

Josh gave him a knowing look, “Jake…” 

“Ijustfindherfascinating,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“You what? You find who fascinating?” 

“Justhisgirl,” he mumbled once more. 

“A girl?” Josh made an educated guess, “a human, girl?”

Jake refused to look up at him but his face reddened at his brother's words. 

Josh’s wings twitched behind him, “you gave me…so much shit…and here you are…” A laugh escaped him and gradually got louder and louder until he leaned over with his elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking from the force. 

“It’s not funny.” 

“Yes…it is,” Josh said after somewhat composing himself. 

“It’s whatever, I’ll probably never see her again.”

 

“Aww why not?” 

“Like I told you before, humans aren’t a good idea.” 

Josh gave him a look, “you said that and then I ended up having the best year of my life. So…” 

Jake looked down at his watch, “Well I have nightmares to cause, chaos to sew.”

“Yeah, ok,” Josh said with a smile and an eye roll. He couldn’t wait to see how this turned out for his brother. 

~!~

Weeks had gone by, and the Demon had tried his best to keep you out of his mind. He kept himself distracted by staying in other cities, soaking up nightmares far away from you. He was being ‘good’, as far as Demons go. Any trouble he got into had nothing to do with the pretty human in the Angel wings. He had only barely heard your name called out to you before he had left your apartment. 

That didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there. He could be inside your place in the blink of an eye if he wanted, but he needed to keep his distance. The last thing he needed was to get caught up with a human. It might have worked out for his twin, but that was an anomaly. You would be terrified of him, and while he knew your fear would be delicious, a small part of him didn’t want it. He didn’t want to imagine you afraid, or anxious. The possibility didn’t sit right with him. 

But at the end of the day, Jake was a Demon, and Demons are imperfect creatures. After weeks of denying himself another glimpse of you, he found himself standing in your living room. The lights were still strung around on your walls, but now you had some Christmas decor mixed in. To his surprise, the ouija board was on your coffee table, already set up with the planchette resting in the center. 

You were sitting on your couch, staring at the board, trying to psych yourself up into placing your fingertips on the planchette. Against your better judgment, you had tried a few times to “communicate” with the Spirit you thought you had talked to the night of your party. But you never got an answer, not once. It made you feel a little dumb but you kept randomly trying. Something inside you was curious, and fully believed it wasn’t Nora being an asshole that night. 

Jake saw you reach for the board every so often, before returning your hands to your lap or fiddle with your phone. He raised an eyebrow, what were you doing? But then he remembered, you had left the ‘door’ open that night, never saying goodbye. This could be his chance without scaring the shit out of you by suddenly appearing. 

Instead of sitting across from you like the last time, he took his seat next to you on the couch. As a Demon, he could fully shield his presence from humans, which meant you wouldn’t feel a dip on the seat next to you. Jake could be as quiet as a ghost. 

Finally, you built up the nerve to place your fingertips on the planchette. You looked around the room, and quietly said, “Is anyone here?” 

Jake’s breath caught in his throat, and he moved his hand next to yours. The downside of his shielding meant that he couldn’t actually feel your hand, and he found himself wishing he could. He didn’t want you to give up and put the board away, so he began to move the plastic piece. With ease he slid it over to the YES corner of the board. 

You gasped, “holy shit. Umm…” Suddenly your mind had gone blank, and you stammered out, “are you a ghost?”

Jake smiled at the question, the same one you had that first night, and just like before he spelled out,

“N-O-T-A-G-H-O-S-T”

Taking some measured breaths you continued, “what are you, then?” 

Jake hesitated slightly. He could lie, and tell you he was a completely benevolent being just passing through the ether, but he didn’t want to. But he was worried you’d throw the board if he answered honestly. But fuck it. 

“D-E-M-O-N”

A chill ran up your spine as the word was completed, and your fingers trembled. You could do this. What have you got to lose?

“What kind of Demon?” 

There was only one word he could use for simplicity's sake, 

“F-E-A-R.”

“Well that makes sense, I guess,” you shrugged, “do you like being a Demon?”

Jake slid the planchette a little quicker to the YES corner. 

“Of course you do. What’s your name?”

Names. Knowing a Demon’s name had power. Humans like to say it means you can control said Demon, but that wasn’t entirely true. It meant that a Demon could hear their name being called by the person through time and space. He could be down in Hell and her even whispering his name would have the sound zinging through the ether and for him it would be as if you had said it right into his ear. Demons don’t have to answer calls, but more often than not they do. It was one of their more narcissistic qualities. 

Did he want to give you that kind of hold over him? To be able to cut through realms just to get his attention? To be able to summon him whenever you wanted? Yes. 

You were expecting some ancient, Biblical-esque name to be spelled out. And while it technically was Biblical, you certainly weren’t expecting, 

“J-A-K-E.”

This made you purse your lips and tilt your head.

 

“You’re a Demon…named Jake?” It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but you had to suppress a laugh. 

Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, not understanding why you found that amusing.

The Demon having such a…simple name relaxed you a bit. You didn’t know of many Demonic names, but you were glad the ones you did know weren’t this his. 

You felt a little more bold, “okay, Jake, prove to me you’re actually here.”

Oh, you wanted a show? He still didn’t want to scare you, but he couldn’t help but use one of his usual moves when nightmare hopping. 

The shadows in the room started to move. They grew larger as if they were climbing up the walls, merging together and creeping around the ceiling. The room was suddenly cloaked in darkness. He left the shadows in their altered state for a minute or two before setting them back to where they originally were. 

“Can you show yourself?”

He could, he could and he wanted to. 

“YES”

You swallowed some air, “then do it.” 

Jake stared at you, knowing that there was no going back now. He had been trying to ignore the anxiety that was coursing through your system, but hanging in front of him like bait on a hook. 

He dropped the shield, letting himself be fully visible and very much right next to you. 

The Demon’s sudden appearance started you so much you recoiled against the arm of the couch, with a few expletives rapidly escaping your mouth. He sat stock still, his large dark brown eyes were locked onto yours. He was dressed in fittingly all black, with a wide brim hat sitting atop his head. Long brown hair fell just past his shoulders. He was gorgeous. Fuck. 

“You’re…really sitting here?” 

He shrugged and rested his arm on the back of the couch, maintaining a comfortable distance from you, “I’ve been sitting here, darling.”

Your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth as you continued to take him in. 

“I just…I just can’t believe it was you at my party.”

The corners of his mouth threatened a smile, “Wasn’t even supposed to be there, honestly. I was just passing through and couldn’t resist crashing the party. I also found your…inaccurate costume amusing.” 

Your nose crinkled, “inaccurate?”

His eyes softened slightly, “Angels aren’t meant to be beautiful.” 

Your heart stuttered, and your voice wobbled to match, “th-they aren’t? What’s wrong with them?”

He leaned his side into the back of the couch, “oh, nothing if you like pompous, arrogant hall monitors who make their lack of free will everyone else’s problem.” 

Your eyebrows slowly raised at his words, “that’s easy to say, for a Demon.” 

His features hardened, “I have stories for days about those pricks that would make you understand my opinion of them, darling.” 

You don’t know why you felt emboldened to talk back to a Demon of all beings, but you were enjoying the adrenaline rush. 

“What exactly do you…do…as a Demon?”

“In general I feed off people's fears, mainly through their nightmares but I can do the same if they’re awake as well.” 

He said it so matter of fact. As if he was telling you what the weather was like outside. 

“I also run favors for any of the higher-ups if they need to get people’s…attention.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I just…make my presence known and usually that means that one,” he started counting with his fingers, “they know they’re being monitored and if they owe anything to anyone that they’re not going to get away with not fulfilling their end of the bargain. And two, it frightens them so much that I get a good meal out of it. Everyone wins.”

“How do you…feed…?”

“It’s not really ‘eating’ in the literal sense. It’s more of a one sided energy exchange. Human emotions have insane amounts of energy.”

You shifted in your seat, facing him more directly, “are you feeding off my fear right now?” 

He tilted his head a little, “but you’re not afraid, are you, darling?”

He was right. Apprehensive? Sure. Fascinated? Very. But afraid? Fearful? You couldn’t understand why, but you almost felt calm in front of him. 

“Do you want me to be afraid?” 

He leaned in closer, giving into his bold nature, “fear is the last thing I want to taste from you.” 

Heat flooded your body at his words. Did he want you? You found yourself leaning closer to him, your mind envisioning all sorts of scenarios at the implication. The air around you seemed to shift, and the Demon’s gaze darkened. 

“Why did you come back tonight?”

He stared at you, “You…fascinate me…”

Your eyebrow twitched in confusion, “fascinated?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience interacting with humans outside of when I visit them at night, but when I happened upon your party…I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Something about you was different, and it was an unfamiliar feeling to me. I regret not staying longer that night.” 

“Oh…”

“But my question for you, darling, is why did you try to communicate again with the board?” He casted a sideways glance at your coffee table, before his dark eyes returned to yours. 

You fiddled with your fingertips, “I don’t know…I had this nagging feeling that what happened that night was actually real, and it wasn’t just typical halloween party bullshit. I tried a few more times, but never got a response until tonight.” 

Something in Jake’s chest tightened at the thought of her trying to reach out but he hadn’t been around to answer, or worse, something with truly malevolent intentions would have been on the other side of that board. 

“I guess we’re both a pair of curious creatures, then,” he said softly. 

He was right, curiosity was all your brain could focus on, besides those brown eyes and velvety-looking lips of his. Because of this, you found yourself scooting closer to the Demon, feeling that the space between you was unnecessarily far. 

  The Demon of course noticed you moving closer, and he shifted in his seat to face you more directly. He silently mapped out your face, taking in every feature, and feeling an itch in his hands to hold your soft cheeks. For once in his long infernal life, the hunger he was feeling wasn’t for fear. 

This wordless communication continued until your faces were inches apart. You fought against the urge to flutter your eyes close and lean in even closer. 

He curled a finger under your chin, “I don’t bite, I promise…” 

You swallowed at his words, shaking off any lasting nerves and leaned forward, brushing your lips with his. 

The Demon nearly froze as you made contact, but he quickly kissed you back, not wanting to risk you pulling away. His hands did as they wanted, and finally slid up your jaw to your cheeks cupping them softly as he tilted his head for a better angle. You melted into the kiss, parting your mouth slightly to allow him access. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, before venturing into your mouth and colliding with your own.

The kiss grew more heated by the second, and you found yourself leaning back on the couch, with your new companion beginning to hover over you. The cool metal from the necklaces he wore grazed your chest as he got closer to you, and you relaxed against the couch cushion, allowing him to get fully on top of you. 

Soon, he was flat on top of you and your hands were buried in his dark locks. The hat that sat upon his head was tilted back from the angle, but it was still getting in the way. You moved your hand up his scalp to fling it out of the way, when your fingers curled around something…hard. As soon as your hand came into contact with the strange texture, the Demon on top of you groaned and bit down on your lower lip. 

Curiosity won and you peeped your eyes open and fully pushed his hat off his head, not caring where it landed on the floor. Your eyes widened when you saw what your fingers were curled around. 

A horn. 

He had a pair of them, fixed parallel with each other and curling backwards slightly into sharp points. They were a deep crimson in color, bordering on oxblood. His thick dark hair parted perfectly around them, making the front pieces of his hair fall beautifully on either side of his face. Your body froze underneath him. 

“Y-you have…horns?”

Through heavy lids, he gazed down at you, “most Demons do, darling.” 

You nodded slightly, of course they did. Your fingertips grazed down the side of one, studying the texture along the way. The more your hand moved, the more his hips squirmed and grinded into yours. You became keenly aware of the growing bulge between you. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked, sliding your fingers up to see how sharp the point was. 

His brown eyes seemed to darken even more, and a low grumble came from his throat, “you have no idea.” Jake couldn’t hold back any longer and crashed his lips back onto yours. You gasped as his tongue lapped at your lips for entrance. He savored and swallowed every sound you made, wanting to memorize them all. His hands reached under the t-shirt you were wearing and you swiftly helped him take it off of you. You hadn’t been wearing a bra, and he immediately cupped both breasts, squeezing and kneading your flesh as you arched up into him. His fingers tweaked your nipples before he lowered his mouth on one, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak.

The Demon’s fingers reached down to the top of your leggings. They slid underneath the fabric slightly before he raised his head and looked to you for permission. You slipped your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded, raising your hips off the couch to help him out. 

You hadn’t bothered with underwear since you were at home,  so when Jake swiftly pulled your leggings down and off your legs, his eyes were immediately met with your core. 

His hands rested on the top of your bent knees, slowly spreading them to get a better look at you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his palms. It wasn’t your typical feeling of body heat. There was a pulse to it that crept up your thighs, and reminded you that he truly wasn’t a human being. 

You remained still, watching him look at you. Your eyes followed his one hand as it traveled along your inner thigh, slowly making its way to where you needed him most. His eyes were locked on your core. Gently, his thumb briefly toyed with some of the curls that resided there, before dipping down into your slit. He dragged it through your arousal, hyper aware of every jump and gasp you made at his touch. 

For a brief moment, you thought you had seen his eyes turn fully black before returning to the dark brown you were familiar with. He started to lower himself down, bringing his face closer and closer to your core. Those same piercing eyes flicked up to your face, silently asking for permission again. Quickly you nodded as your heart started hammering in your chest. 

He licked his lips in anticipation. What he hadn’t revealed to you, was that you were about to be the first human that he’d tasted this way. The Demon knew what fear, anxiety, dread, all of the above tasted like. But this? This was desire, your desire, and he couldn’t stop himself from spreading your swollen lips apart with his fingers lowering his mouth to your flesh. 

The taste had him immediately humming into you, tongue swirling around your folds to gather as much of your arousal onto his tongue as he could. The action had you bucking into his mouth, one hand shaking by your side while the other gripped the back of your couch. 

Jake wrapped his arm around your thigh, resting his hand on your hip bone to hold you in place. His tongue dipped into your entrance before traveling upwards to finally give your clit the attention it desperately needed. You cried out as it made contact, jerking your hips once again towards his mouth. He chuckled slightly against you before taking your clit fully into his mouth and sucking on it harshly enough to elicit a high pitched whine from your throat. 

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” you gasped into the air. 

The Demon released your clit and gruffly whispered into your core, his lips close enough to brush against you as he spoke “Jesus isn’t the one making you feel like this, darling.” 

You hiccuped a laugh as his lips wrapped around your clit once more. 

His fingers on his unoccupied hand circled your entrance a few times before dipping a single finger inside. Feeling your warmth surround him had the Demon rutting his hips into the couch cushion. 

Your back arched as he added a second finger, and the hand at your side flew to his dark hair, desperate to get him even closer to your core. He groaned into you as your fingernails dug into his scalp.  With every curl of his fingers or swipe of his tongue, you felt your high hurtling towards you. You grinded down onto his fingers while he continued expertly swirling his tongue around your clit. His hair wasn’t enough. You needed something else to hold onto. Blindly, you loosened your grip to move your hand to the left and wrap around the dark ridged horn that grew from his head. 

The second your hand secured itself around his horn, Jake gasped around your clit, breathing out hot hair against your sensitive flesh before he made a low growl in his throat. His teeth nipped at your skin as his mouth closed around your clit, causing you to cry out once again. His fingers sped up inside you, knowing you were close and wanting to desperately know how you felt and what you sounded like when you came. 

With one more harsh curl of his finger against that spot inside you, and the way his tongue flattened out as it swiped up the left side of your clit, the tension in your body broke as your orgasm took over your body. You shouted his name towards your ceiling, not caring if your neighbors heard it through the paper thin walls of your apartment building. 

He worked you through your high, trying to prolong it as long as he could before he slowed his movements to gently guide you back down. 

Eventually, your body went slack underneath him, and your hand left his horn to rub your face as you came back to reality. Jake lightly peppered kisses up your thigh as he slowly withdrew his fingers. You quietly whimpered at the loss, hating how empty you suddenly felt. 

Jake licked his fingers clean, not wanting to waste a drop of you. He couldn’t get enough, and while he wasn’t sure if all humans tasted this good or not, he was certain that none of them could come close to how delicious you were. 

He carefully crawled up your body, admiring how you blissed out you looked with your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips. 

Slowly you opened your eyes, still in disbelief over what had just happened. The two of you stared at each other silently before Jake lowered his mouth onto yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

The kiss turned heated, and you started to grab at the shirt that he was still wearing. 

He murmured against your lips, “darling, as much fun as we’re having on your couch, if I’m going to have you,” the implication obvious in his tone, “I want to be able to take you properly, on a bed.” 

You stifled a laugh before turning your head towards the open door of your bedroom. Within seconds the Demon had gathered you in his arms as he made his way to the doorway. He crossed the threshold and gently laid you on your bed. 

“You’re wearing far too much,” you boldly observed. 

He smirked at you, “well we can’t have that, can we?” 

You smiled and sat up on your knees and quickly helped him shed the offending layers of clothing, leaving just a pile of black clothing and leather boots next to your bed. Your eyes drank him in, noting every dip and contour of his body. His skin was already glistening slightly with sweat after your activities on the couch. Your gaze lowered and followed the faint trail of hair under his belly button down to thick dark curls that surrounded the base of his cock. 

The way your eyes widened at the sight of him had the Demon fighting back a smirk, and he took his cock in his hand to give himself a few pumps just to tease you even more. Jake crawled up the bed to hover over you. 

If it weren’t for the horns, you wouldn’t have guessed a Demon was looking down at you, with how soft his gaze was. Your chest swelled unexpectedly at the silent emotions swimming behind his dark eyes. You had so many questions for him, and a need to know everything about him and his life. You didn’t want to think about the fact that he’d probably leave after tonight. 

His lips brushed yours with a feather-light softness, as if he was afraid you’d shatter underneath him like glass. The gesture had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

“I know you said you’re not a ghost,” you whispered, calling back to your first interaction, “but promise you won’t disappear like one…afterwards…”

Jake knew what you were asking, and every option weighed heavily on his mind. This was completely uncharted territory for him, and for all of his confidence he was unsure how to navigate it. 

He looked down, focusing on a lone freckle on your stomach before replying, “didn’t anyone tell you that Demons were dangerous?” 

There was a sheepishness to his tone that surprised you, but you countered, “you mean the same people who told me to not fuck with Ouija boards?”

“You never know who you’re talking to…”

“I don’t know you’re not so bad….” you mused. 

His eyes traveled up your body to meet yours, “I’m not an innocent creature, darling.”

Now it was your eyes that darkened, “show me…” 

You felt his thick cock twitch between you in response.

Jake surged forward and captured your lips with his. You wasted no time to return the kiss, cradling his jaw in your hands. Your legs went lax in his hands as he spread them apart to fit himself between them. He reached down to wrap his hand around his cock and dragged it through your slit. You gasped at the contact, and then smiled against his lips. 

“Please…,” you whispered, the need for him taking over your body. 

With a swivel of his hips, his cock plunged inside you, bottoming out as far as he could go. You threw your head back and cried out, relishing how full you felt. 

Jake didn’t even try to hold back the groan in his throat as your velvety heat enveloped him. He tried to give himself a minute to catch his breath. Moreover, he was trying to give you a minute to adjust, but your legs wrapped around his hips, sending the message to move. Happy to oblige you, he reared his hips back nearly all the way, before thrusting forward hard enough that your ankles shook slightly against the small of his back. 

Your mouth hung open and your eyes were screwed shut, and the Demon leaned down to whisper in your ear, “alright there, darling?” 

You tilted your head to reply, “if you don’t start moving…”

He chuckled and whispered something you were sure sounded like a playful, “demanding little thing…” before settling into a steady rhythm. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as he moved, and the feeling of his flesh under your hands sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. 

Jake buried his face in the crook of your neck, planting kisses along your neck as he gained speed. Soon he was all but slamming into you, making your bed creek to the point where the frame was getting closer and closer to hitting the wall behind it. 

There was only one light on in the room, a small desk light in the corner by your laptop, It wasn’t bright enough to fully illuminate the room, but it cast a warm glow from the side of the room it was on. Your eyes fluttered open briefly as you clung to the Demon inside you, and you noticed that the shadows on the walls and the ceilings looked…different. They were moving in ways that weren’t natural, in fact they shouldn’t have been moving at all given the source of light. But they were wobbling and morphing into different abstract shapes around you. It was then you remembered what Jake had done to prove his presence in your apartment: the trick with the shadows and how he used them to cloak all visible light in the room. 

Your attention on the shadows didn’t last however, as he hiked one of your legs higher on his side, pushing it towards you chest and giving him a new angle to work with. This let him hit even deeper, and the head of his cock was rutting against a spot inside you that had you gasping for air. 

Jake felt you squeezing him harder and more frequently as he continued his pace, and he could tell you were getting close. He smirked against the skin of your shoulder and reached down with his other hand to grab your ass cheek and knead the soft flesh as he worked you towards your second orgasm of the night. 

At this point you were a babbling mess underneath him, holding on for dear life as you hurtled towards the edge. He lifted his head up and greedily crashed his lips into yours, wanting to feel every gasp and reedy sigh coming from you. 

It was all too much, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and a cry flew from your mouth as your orgasm took over, shattering beneath him. 

“Yeah…yeah that's it, darling…doing so well,” he encouraged in a low voice as he continued to piston his hips and work you through your high. 

Jake slowed as you began to come down, and your muscles felt like jello from how tense they had been leading up to your orgasm. His lips pressed sweetly into your cheek, as he felt you relax even further onto the bed. He hoped you weren’t too tired, because he wasn’t through with you. 

Before you could register which way was up, the Demon pulled out of you, hissing at the sudden rush of cold air on his cock. Your eyes opened a bit in curiosity, as you knew he hadn’t came yet. The shadows were still flickering on the walls to their own accord, resembling flames with their movements. 

He sat up on his knees, resting on his haunches and taking your hips in his hands. In one swift motion, he had you on your stomach, yanking your hips backwards before he reared back himself and slammed back into you from behind. 

You cried out into the pillow beneath you, your body still sensitive from your last orgasm. All of her nerve endings were on fire, and lightning bolts of pleasure radiated from your core as he rutted into you at a brutal pace. 

It was a struggle to keep yourself properly on your hands and knees, as every thrust had you lurching forward and nearly off balance. Curse words fell from your mouth, harmonizing with the grunts and heavy breathing from the Demon behind you. His thick hands and long finger were squeezing your hips in such a way you were sure there would be marks left behind, but you didn’t care, you loved how rough he was at that moment. A stark contrast to how he had been in the previous round. 

He slowed his pace slightly to these long and deliberate strokes, wanting to really savor how incredible you felt wrapped around him. But while this angle felt amazing not only for you and for him, he felt a little far away from you, and he didn’t like that at all. 

While maintaining his pace he gathered you up in his arms and pulled you upright, securing your back to his front, and his chin on your shoulder. The new angle had him thrusting upwards into you, and it made your head fall back onto his shoulder. Your legs were starting to shake from the excursion, and instinctively you reached up and took one of his horns in your hand to keep yourself balanced. 

This caused the Demon to growl next to your ear. His hips involuntarily swiveled and pushed his aching deeper inside you at the feeling of your hand on one of his horns. The combined sensations had his own high looming in the distance, but he didn’t want to cross the finish line alone. He slid his hand down your torso to your clit, immediately figuring out the pattern that caused the biggest reaction from you. 

“You got one more for me? Hmm? Do you, darling?” He spoke into your ear and pressed his lips on the shell of it. “I know you do; you can do it. You’re already squeezing me so tight.” 

He was whispering pure filth into your ear as he kept rutting into you and working your clit. He didn’t just want to feel you come again, he needed it. Once around his fingers and another around his cock wasn’t enough for him. He needed more. 

Your body started to tremble in his arms, and he knew you were right on the edge. He wasn’t very far behind you as his cock stiffened even more. Within seconds you were clamping down around him again, throwing your head back and crying out towards the ceiling. As your high slammed into you again, the Demon’s own orgasm course through him. He let out a low groan as his hips stuttered a few times before pushing into you one final time, emptying himself completely. In the midst of it all, the shadows closed in on you both briefly before retreating and settling back in their rightful places, looking completely normal now. 

His hand slowly circled your clit, trying to prolong your orgasm as long as he could, but when your body jolted at the sensitivity he stopped and slowly withdrew from you. Your legs started to give out and he quickly caught you and gently laid you back down on the bed, not wanting you to fall. 

The sight of his release slowly rolling down your thigh distracted him for a second, before he remembered it was the gentlemanly thing to do to clean you up. Thankfully, you had a bathroom attached to your room, so he didn’t have to go too far to get a warm washcloth to clean you both up. The whole time you watched him through heavy lidded eyes, exhausted from the whole evening. 

On his way back from throwing the rag in your hamper, he noted his pile of clothes and his hat in the other room. He turned back to your bed, your eyes were nearly shut and you were under the covers. An intrusive thought flashed through his mind, that it would be so easy for him to gather his things and leave, letting you wake up in the morning and chalk it all up to a wine-induced dream. But then your request from earlier filtered through his thoughts, and a pang shot through his chest. No…he couldn’t do that. Most surprisingly, he didn’t want to. 

He shook his head before crawling into your bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on his chest. 

You didn’t want to fall asleep, and you tried real hard to stay awake. But his lips rested on the crown of your head, while his fingers traced little patterns on your lower back. It wasn’t long before you both drifted off into a restful sleep. 

Hours later, when the sun had fully risen and light was streaming through your window, you were awoken by a low snore near your ear. Blinking your eyes open, you looked up to find Jake’s face inches from yours. His arms were around your waist and he was practically sharing your pillow, but you didn’t mind. Carefully you turned over to face him, trying not to wake him up. His features looked so much softer this way, and you could fully admire the slope of his nose and how his dark eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. He was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. 

The Demon began to stir awake, and his eyes slowly opened to find you laying in the crook of his arm, absently fiddling with his necklaces. 

“Morning…,” he murmured, voice nearly an octave lower from sleep. 

“Morning…,” you replied, unable to hide the smile that slid across your face. 

His hand reached up and cupped your face, tilting it up wards so he could slot his mouth over yours in a languid kiss. 

As you pulled away, you whispered a question against his lips.

“Not a ghost?”

His arms tightened around you and pulled you closer to him. 

“Not a ghost, darling.” 

FIN

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