#four minutes left of my sanity

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[pucksandpower]

Wagification

Max Verstappen x analyst!Reader

Summary: your job was slowly crushing your soul and stealing your sanity … until Max showed you the pleasure to be found in letting yourself be cherished and cared for (or in which a chronically overworked Sky Sports analyst becomes a WAG)

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the Monaco sunshine bright and warm on your face. Max comes around and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You ready for this?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. It’s been nearly a year since you were last at a Grand Prix, and so much has changed. You glance down at the massive diamond on your left hand, still not quite used to seeing it there.

Max kisses your temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

Hand-in-hand, you make your way into the paddock. Immediately you’re assaulted by the familiar sights and sounds — mechanics yelling, engines revving, reporters gesturing to their cameras. It’s like you never left.

You keep your sunglasses on and your head down, hoping to avoid notice. The last thing you want is to be bombarded by your old coworkers. As a data analyst for Sky Sports F1, you knew everyone in the paddock. But you walked away from it all for Max and you aren’t sure what kind of reception awaits you now.

“Max! Max Verstappen!” You hear a female voice call out. You suppress a groan as you recognize it as belonging to Emma, one of the network’s top reporters. She hurries over, dictaphone in hand. “Max, can I get a quick interview for the pre-race show?”

“Sure,” Max says easily. He keeps holding your hand, drawing you forward. “Just make it quick, yeah?”

Emma nods, then seems to notice you for the first time. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m Emma Walsh, with Sky Sports.” She sticks her hand out with a friendly smile.

You hesitate a second before shaking her hand. “Y/N,” you say simply, not offering your last name.

Emma’s eyes widen behind her glasses and she leans in for a closer look. “Wait a minute, I know you ...” Her jaw drops open. “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

You give a little shrug. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” Emma practically shouts. “I can’t believe it! We all thought you fell off the face of the earth after you left Sky. What happened to you?”

Max slides an arm around your waist. “She fell for me,” he says with a grin.

Emma’s eyes bug out even more as she takes in your designer dress, heels, and rock on your finger. “You mean … you and Max ...”

You nod, feeling yourself blush. “About a year ago, yeah.”

“Wow.” Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “Just … wow. I mean, look at you! You look incredible!”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. Your style has certainly changed since your Sky Sports days of sensible pantsuits. As an analyst, you had lived in jeans, flats, and minimal makeup, your hair always pulled back in a simple ponytail. Now your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders, and you’re wearing a floaty floral maxi dress and strappy heels. You went from broadcasting racing stats to being a WAG almost overnight.

“Thanks,” you say, your cheeks growing even warmer. “It’s really good to see you, Emma.”

“You too!” She grins. “I have so many questions, but I better let you go for now. Don’t want to keep the championship leader waiting.” She winks at Max. “We’ll catch up later, yeah? Drinks tonight to celebrate your return?”

“Sure, sounds good.” You smile, thankful she’s not pressing for more details now. Emma waves and heads off in search of her next interview.

Max keeps his arm around you as you continue through the paddock. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs.

You let out a shaky laugh. “One down, about a hundred more to go.”

Over the next hour you run into what feels like every person you used to work with. They all react with similar shock at the former paddock nerd turned glamorous girlfriend of the reigning four-time World Champion.

You chat briefly with Will, who stutters over his words and goes bright red when you say hello. He had the biggest crush on you back when you worked together. Sarah can’t stop gushing over your ring. Tom tells you how weird it is not to see you hunched over a laptop crunching numbers.

The encounters leave you feeling drained, but also relieved. Your old coworkers seem genuinely happy for you, not resentful like you had worried. They don’t pry too much into how exactly you went from reporting race stats to ending up with Max Verstappen. That’s a story for another time.

Eventually you make it to the Red Bull garage, where you let out a long breath. “Phew, I survived.”

Max grins and pulls you close. “You were amazing. And you look beautiful, as always.” He nuzzles your neck.

You smile and loop your arms around his shoulders. “Have I mentioned how happy I am whenever I’m with you?”

“Mmm, maybe once or twice.” Max kisses you softly. “But feel free to keep reminding me.”

“Ahem.” Christian Horner clears his throat from behind you. “If you two can pause the PDA for a moment, we have a race to focus on.”

You spring apart, blushing furiously at being caught by Max’s team principal. Max just laughs and slings an arm around your shoulders.

“Lighten up, Christian. I’m allowed to kiss my fiancée.”

Christian shakes his head, but he’s fighting a smile. “Indeed you are. But perhaps when there aren’t cameras around?” He nods over your shoulder.

You turn to see several photographers zooming in, no doubt dying to get shots of the paddock’s newest it couple. You bury your face in Max’s shoulder.

“Ugh, no privacy anywhere,” you grumble.

Max kisses your hair. “It’s not so bad. Just part of the deal when you’re with me, remember?”

You smile up at him. “Very true. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The day passes in a blur of activity. Max has various sponsor obligations and media commitments. You stick close by his side, learning how to avoid the cameras and deflect the constant questions about your relationship. Being the center of attention still feels strange, but you’re getting better at handling it.

During Max’s autograph session, you chat with some of the other drivers’ girlfriends and wives. They give you tips on dealing with the madness. You’re touched by how kind and welcoming they are.

“It takes some getting used to,” Alex Albon’s girlfriend, Lily, says. “But once you figure out how to focus on what really matters, the rest just becomes background noise.”

You nod. Your priority is Max. Everything else is just part of the ride.

***

One Year Ago

You sink down onto a stack of tires behind the Red Bull motorhome, finally letting the tears fall. This weekend in Barcelona has been a nightmare so far. Your team at Sky Sports is chronically understaffed, so you’ve been working 18 hour days analyzing data and prepping stats graphics.

You’re exhausted, frustrated, and seriously questioning your career choices.

On top of that, you just found out that your coworker and boyfriend Jamie has been cheating on you for months with one of the new junior reporters. You feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

You just need a few minutes to yourself to cry it out before plastering a smile back on and soldiering through the rest of the weekend. You hear footsteps approaching and quickly dab at your eyes with your sleeve, but it’s too late.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ...” The voice trails off awkwardly.

You glance up to see none other than Max Verstappen standing there, a look of concern on his face. Great. The last thing you need is Formula 1’s wunderkind catching you bawling behind the motorhome.

You scramble to your feet, trying to compose yourself. “Um, hi. No worries, I was just ...” You trail off, at a loss for how to explain.

Max steps closer, head tilted. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His kindness makes the tears threaten again. You stare down at your scuffed sneakers, embarrassed.

“I’m fine, really. Just had a bad day. You know how it goes.” You force a weak laugh.

Max doesn’t seem convinced. “Here, come sit for a minute,” he says gently, guiding you back over to the stack of tires.

To your surprise, he sits down next to you in his designer jeans and Red Bull Racing hoodie like it’s no big deal. You would laugh if you weren’t still fighting more tears.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He smiles and holds out his hand.

You shake it weakly. “Yeah, I know. I mean, uh, I’m Y/N.” You blush. Smooth.

Max either doesn’t notice or is too polite to comment. “So Y/N, what has you so upset? Boyfriend troubles?” He raises an eyebrow knowingly.

You let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. The idiot’s been cheating on me it turns out.” Saying it out loud makes the hurt swell back up.

Max shakes his head angrily. “What a dick. I don’t understand guys who treat girls like that. You deserve so much better, Y/N.”

The genuine outrage on your behalf makes you smile a bit through the tears. “Thanks, Max. I appreciate that.”

He nods. “Any guy would be lucky to have a girl as pretty and smart as you. This loser doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Now you really can’t help blushing. You’re used to being called a lot of things — nerdy, awkward, obsessive about stats — but no one’s ever called you pretty before. Especially not a kind, cute, and famous race car driver.

You dip your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously. “You’re very sweet to say that.”

Max bumps your shoulder with his. “Just calling it like I see it.”

You chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. Max is easy to talk to, and makes you laugh with funny stories about mishaps in the garage. By the time you hear your boss calling your name, you’ve almost forgotten about Jamie and your tear-stained face.

“Shit, I have to get back to work,” you say, standing quickly and grabbing your laptop bag. “Thanks for listening, Max. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Max stands too, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems reluctant to end the conversation. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around again this weekend?”

You give him a curious look, wondering why he’d want to see you again after witnessing that mess of emotions. But he looks sincere. “Yeah, maybe! I’m around if you need any stats analysis or data work.” You tap your temple. “Numbers nerd, at your service.”

Max grins. “Good to know. Take care, Y/N.” With a little wave, he heads off, leaving you staring after him in surprise.

The rest of the day you keep replaying those moments with Max in your head, unable to focus. Why did he seem so interested in a frumpy data analyst having a meltdown? You can’t make sense of it.

By the time qualifying ends on Saturday, you’re practically dead on your feet. Your eyelids keep drooping as you pack up your equipment. Maybe you’ll just sleep under your desk tonight instead of walking all the way to the hotel.

“Long day, huh?”

You jerk awake to see Max leaning in the doorway of your makeshift office, thumbs hooked in his pockets. He looks annoyingly energetic and put together compared to your disheveled state.

“Uh, yeah.” You smooth your hair back,feeling self-conscious. Why does he have to catch you looking like such a mess yet again? “Just have about a million graphics to finish before tomorrow’s broadcast. The glamorous life of a data analyst,” you say wryly.

Max frowns. “They keep you here this late doing all the work yourself?”

You sigh, rubbing your grainy eyes beneath your glasses. “Unfortunately yes. We’re way understaffed, but it’s not like they’ll give us more budget to hire help.”

Max shakes his head. “That’s unacceptable. You deserve so much better than this.”

The kindness in his voice makes you suddenly emotional again. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to tear up at work twice in one day.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll be okay though, once I get some sleep ...” You know you don’t sound convincing.

Max appears to think for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You know what, enough of this. Come on.”

Before you can react, he takes your hand and gently tugs you to your feet.

“W-what? Where are we going?” You stammer, heartbeat quickening.

“We’re getting out of here. You’re clearly exhausted and need a break.” Max keeps hold of your hand as he leads you from the office.

“But-but my work … I have to finish-” Even as you protest, you let him continue pulling you along. A rebellious part of you is thrilled at this sudden adventure.

“It can wait. Right now, we’re getting some food and drinks in you so you actually have energy left for tomorrow.” Max winks at you as you exit the paddock into the cool night air. “Trust me.”

And despite barely knowing this man, you realize you do trust him. Max guides you around the corner to a lively tapas bar, chatting all the while about random topics to make you laugh. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you.

Over shared plates of patatas bravas and fizzy cocktails, you find yourself opening up to Max in a way you never do with people you just met. But his kindness and openness make you feel comfortable. He tells you more about life as an F1 driver, the pressures and perks.

“It must be amazing getting to travel all over the world racing cars,” you muse after your second cocktail. “Like a dream.”

“Part of it is, yeah.” Max smiles wryly. “But it can also be lonely. Never really putting down roots anywhere. Hard to meet people outside the racing bubble, you know?”

You nod thoughtfully. Under the playboy racer exterior, it seems there’s a down-to-earth guy who just wants connection. On impulse, you cover his hand with yours and give it a squeeze.

“Well, you’ve got a friend here now if you ever need company at a race.”

Max turns his palm over to link his fingers through yours. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His smile is so warm and genuine, you feel your cheeks heat.

By the time you stumble back to your hotel, you’re laughing and chatting with Max like old friends. When you get to your door though, you blink blearily and sway on your feet — the long day and alcohol hitting you hard.

Max steadies you with a hand on your waist. “Whoa there. You gonna make it okay?”

You wave a hand drunkenly. “Oh yeah, totally fiiiine ...” Your balance wavers again. Okay, maybe not so fine.

Max bites his lip, seeming to have an internal debate. “Alright, slight change of plans. You’re in no state to be left alone right now.”

In one smooth motion he scoops you up bridal-style. You make a very dignified squeaking noise and clutch his shoulders.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe for the night.” He grins down at you. “You can stay in my suite where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But … people will think ...” Even tipsy, you know spending the night in Max Verstappen’s hotel room is probably a bad idea.

“Let them think whatever. I’m being a gentleman, I promise.” The sincerity in his eyes melts your feeble protests. You really are in no state to be left alone.

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “Okay fine, you win. But just for tonight!”

Max chuckles, carrying you towards the elevator. “Deal. We’ll get you sobered up and rested for tomorrow.”

You have vague impressions of a plush suite, being tucked into cool satin sheets and handed water and pills for your headache. Max brushes hair off your face with a lingering touch. “Get some sleep, Y/N. I’m right next door if you need me.”

His kindness brings tears to your eyes again, but happy ones this time. As you drift off surrounded by his scent, you think dazedly that maybe this race weekend hasn’t been so terrible after all.

In the morning, waking up in Max Verstappen’s hotel bed, you at first think it was all some crazy dream. Then the smell of brewing coffee draws you out to the living room, where Max stands in the kitchenette.

“Morning! I ordered us some breakfast.” He hands you a mug, smiling softly.

Daylight streaming through the windows makes last night’s events seem even more surreal. You feel suddenly shy as memories return. A part of you wishes you could stay here in this peaceful bubble with him forever, away from the outside world.

But reality calls, as you both have jobs to return to. Max convinces you to eat some food and take more pain meds before he walks you back to your own room to shower and change.

At your door he pulls you into a gentle hug. “Take care of yourself today, okay Y/N? And if you need another break or company again, you know where to find me.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead that sends tingles through your entire body.

Somehow you make it through the day fueled by Max’s kindness and the smallest hope this could lead to more. You catch sight of him striding through the paddock, fans clamoring for his attention. His eyes always seem to find you though, lighting up with that warm smile.

After the race, you’re back in your makeshift office trying not to fall asleep at your desk before the last minutes of broadcasts. When you walk outside into the golden hour sunset though, Max is waiting for you.

“So, ready for round two at the tapas place to celebrate my win?” He bumps your shoulder playfully.

You grin up at him, this beautiful boy who inexplicably wants to spend all his free moments with you. “Definitely. Bring on the croquetas.”

Laughing together, you start making your way there. And though you don’t know what this budding connection will lead to, you’re ready to find out.

***

Nine Months Ago

You snuggle deeper into Max’s arms with a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest. The lights are dim and music plays softly in the background of his hotel suite. Rain patters against the windows, making it the perfect night to get cozy indoors.

Being wrapped up with Max like this, away from the chaos of the race weekend, has become your favorite place to be over the past few months. After that impulsive first night in Barcelona when he took care of you, you started spending more and more time together.

What began as a supportive friendship soon turned into dates, kisses, and eventually becoming official boyfriend and girlfriend. You still can’t believe that Max Verstappen, Formula 1 superstar, wants to be with a plain data analyst like yourself. But from the way he looks at you — like you’re the most captivating person in the world — you don’t doubt his sincerity.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Max murmurs, trailing his fingers slowly up and down your arm.

You smile and nuzzle his neck. “Mmm, I think you mentioned it once or twice.”

His hands drift up to stroke your hair and you practically purr, eyes drifting shut. Max kisses the top of your head. “I mean it though, Y/N. Being with you makes me so happy.”

You lift your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “You make me happy too, Max. I-” You cut off with an enormous yawn that you fail to stifle in time.

Max chuckles. “Am I boring you over here?”

“No no,” you insist around another yawn. “I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open tonight.”

It’s true. As blissful as you feel cuddled up with Max, you’re utterly exhausted. This weekend has been nonstop work with little sleep. By the time you wrapped the Sky broadcasts up for the night, you could barely see straight.

Max brushes a strand of hair back from your face, his expression growing serious. “You’re completely worn out, schatje. I hate seeing you push yourself to the breaking point like this.”

You give him a tired smile. “It’s okay, really. I’m used to the long hours by now. Occupational hazard.” It comes out less convincingly than you intended.

Max’s frown deepens. He shifts around to face you, cradling your cheek in his palm. “But you shouldn’t have to be used to it, Y/N. Your bosses take advantage of your dedication. It’s not right.”

You bite your lip, not meeting his earnest gaze. Deep down you know he’s correct, but you don’t know what else to do. This career has been your life for years now.

Max gently turns your face back to his. “You deserve so much better. You keep giving everything to this job and they just keep demanding more. When’s the last time you took a real break?”

You look down, feeling the prickle of tears. You can’t even remember your last vacation or rest day. “It’s okay, really ...” you whisper half-heartedly.

“No, it’s not.” Max’s voice is firm but caring. He tips your chin up to meet his eyes. “I can’t stand seeing you being taken advantage of. It makes me want to take care of you properly, the way you should be.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his gaze. Being taken care of and cherished so deeply is new for you. You don’t know how to respond.

Max seems to take your silence as uncertainty. “Just think about it, liefje. You could finally put yourself first and do what makes you happy instead of what makes Sky Sports happy.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Doesn’t a break to rest and recover sound nice?”

You close your eyes with a shaky exhale, admitting to yourself just how badly you need it. Your health and mental wellbeing have been steadily declining under the relentless stress.

“It really does sound nice,” you whisper. A few tears leak out beneath your lashes.

Max kisses them away tenderly, holding you close. “Shh I know, baby. You’re burning yourself out trying to do the impossible. Anyone would be exhausted.”

You cling to him, sniffling. “But it’s my job, my career. I can’t just walk away ...” Even as you say it, the prospect doesn’t seem as scary as it once did. Not if you get to have this, being wrapped in Max’s love and care.

“You can walk away from anything that’s making you suffer. You’re so much more than this job. And you’ll never have to worry or want for anything ever again.” His tone drips with promise.

You lean back to search his face. “What do you mean?”

Max smiles and brushes his nose against yours. “I mean, I’ll take care of you. If you leave your job to focus on yourself and our relationship, you will want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyes go wide. “You mean … quit working altogether and just … be with you full time?”

Max nods, still smiling. “It can be that simple if you want. No more crazy hours and stress. Just let me spoil you and give you the life you deserve. What do you say?”

Your pulse races as you imagine it. No more coming home at 2 am and collapsing, living off vending machine snacks. Instead you could be leisurely mornings with Max, seeing the world together, doing activities you actually enjoy instead of endless stats analysis ...

It sounds idyllic. But could you really just stop working and let Max support you? Would people judge you for it?

As if reading your mind, Max says “Ignore whatever anyone else might think. This is about what’s right for you and makes you happy. I’m sure of this, Y/N. Please trust me.”

His eyes radiate so much love and certainty. Slowly you nod, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “If you’re sure then … I trust you, Max.”

Joy spreads across his face. He kisses you deeply, pouring all his feelings into it. When he finally pulls back you’re both breathless.

“You won’t regret this, schatje. I’m going to take such good care of you from now on.” Max strokes your hair, eyes shining. “No more exhaustion and stress. Just being together and enjoying life. It will be amazing.”

You truly believe it as you drift off, safe in his arms. No more pressure to single-handedly carry Sky Sports’ data analysis. From now on, you can just be his … and find yourself again.

The next day you take a deep breath and knock on your boss’ door. Within minutes, you’ve quit your job and ended a years long chapter. It feels bittersweet but right as you box up your belongings from your little makeshift office. This time when tears prick your eyes, they’re from overwhelming relief.

Max is waiting to pick you up, greeting you with a spinning hug and long kiss. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so much happier and healthier from now on, I just know it.”

You hug him tight, burying your face in his neck. “I already feel lighter. This was the right choice.”

And it truly is. As you jet off to a tropical island just the two of you that weekend, it feels like a new life.

The days pass in a dreamy haze — sleeping in, long massages, breakfast in bed courtesy of Max, sunset walks on the beach holding hands. He delights in pampering you with gifts, gourmet meals, and your every whim met often before you even speak it.

“I could get used to this,” you sigh contentedly as you lounge together in a cabana, sipping fruity cocktails.

Max smiles and nuzzles your neck. “That’s the idea. You’ll never lift a finger except when you want to from now on.”

It amazes you how he transforms from fierce competitor on the track to this caring, protective boyfriend behind closed doors. He seems to find his greatest happiness in making sure you’re thoroughly spoiled.

You do occasionally think of the drastic shift your life has taken. But any flicker of doubt is erased by Max’s love and devotion. He’s given you freedom from exhaustion and anxiety. You’ve never felt more adored.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper one night as you sway together on the balcony under the stars, your silk robe fluttering around you.

Max gazes at you like you hold the secrets of the universe. “You just had to be yourself, schatje. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

He takes your breath away with slow, passionate kisses until you meltingly agree to take things inside. Your first time together is everything you imagined and more.

Afterwards, lying entwined with Max stroking your hair, you have never felt more whole. You found in each other what you needed most — care, understanding, and unwavering love.

This blissful new life together has only just begun.

***

A Few Hours Ago

You hum to yourself as you flip through the designer outfits in your massive walk-in closet, selecting options for the upcoming race. This will be your first time attending a Grand Prix on Max’s arm and you want to look perfect.

As you sift through rows of Chanel, Dior, Valentino, and Prada, you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Need any help choosing?” Max asks, nuzzling your neck.

You lean back into him with a smile. “I was just trying to narrow it down. I want to look nice for your big weekend.”

Max turns you in his arms, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “Schatje, you could show up in sweatpants and you’d still be the most beautiful woman there.”

You scrunch your nose. “But it’s Monaco! I need to look at least semi put-together.”

“It’s impossible for you to look anything but,” Max declares, stealing a quick kiss. “You always look perfect to me.”

You swat his chest but can’t help grinning. His constant compliments and admiration still give you flutters even after months together.

Taking your hand, Max comes to stand before the endless clothing options. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

You pull out two of your favorites: a sleek black Balmain jumpsuit with a deep neckline and waist cutouts, and a shimmering floral Givenchy maxi dress.

“Ooh, these are both amazing,” Max says, fingering the luxe fabrics. “That jumpsuit would show off your sexy legs, but this fabric is so pretty with your skin tone ...”

You chew your bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m torn too. What’s your vote?”

Max pretends to scrutinize them closely before breaking into a smile. “Well you know I love you in anything. Or nothing,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes and swat him with a hanger. “Behave! I need actual fashion advice please.”

“Okay okay.” Max puts on an exaggerated serious expression. “The Givenchy dress is very classy and princess-like. But I love the way this Balmain hugs your curves.” To demonstrate, he traces a hand along the waist and down your side.

You shiver pleasantly at his touch. “Mmm, good point ...”

Max leans in close behind you, hands resting on your hips. “Imagine me peeling it off of you after my win.” He presses a kiss below your ear.

You melt back into him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Well when you put it that way ...”

“The dress would be pretty easy access too though.” Max slides his hands under the fabric across your thighs teasingly.

You gasp and swat him away again, laughing. “Okay stop distracting me! I really do need to pick.”

Max relents with a grin, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, you win. I officially vote for the dress. It’s sexy yet elegant, just like you.”

You smile and give him a peck on the lips. “Now, what about bags and shoes?”

You move through your endless options as Max offers his input. He has a surprising eye for fashion despite his own relaxed, sporty style.

“This one matches the best.” He selects a sleek black crocodile Birkin. “Classy and understated.”

You turn the bag over in your hands. “Ooh I forgot I had this one. Good call!”

After picking strappy heels to complete the look, you start browsing your jewelry selection.

“That’s a lot of shiny stuff,” Max remarks, eyes roving over the boxes of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and more.

You arch an eyebrow. “Says the one who got carried away with the jewelry purchases ...”

Max just grins and pulls you close. “I want you to have it all. You deserve to be spoiled.” He captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum happily against his mouth before pulling back. “Will you help me pick something?”

“Hmm let’s see ...” Max peruses the options before selecting an elegant diamond necklace. “Yeah, this one is perfect. Really complements the dress.”

He fastens it carefully around your neck, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a smile. His gaze trails down your body as you model the full outfit together.

“You look absolutely incredible, liefje. Every man in Monaco will be drooling over you.”

You turn to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Well I only care about impressing one man.” You kiss the tip of his nose.

Max’s hands find your waist again, warm on your exposed skin. “Oh trust me, I am very impressed. And the second we’re alone after the race this outfit will be on the floor.”

You laugh as he nuzzles into your neck, nipping lightly. Somehow, you manage to fall more in love with Max every day.

You eventually disentangle, needing to actually get ready for the day ahead.

“What should I wear in the meantime?” You muse, fingers drifting over the designer options.

Before you can choose, Max comes up behind you and starts guiding a silk robe onto your shoulders.

“How about nothing at all? I’m enjoying this view already,” he murmurs against your skin as he wraps the sash loosely around your waist.

You lean back into him with a hum of pleasure. “Well if you insist ...”

Max takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you back against the pillows. He undoes the robe just enough to expose your body as he trails kisses everywhere. “Mmm yes, this is much better than any outfit.”

You run your fingers through his hair, arching into his touch. “What happened to getting ready for the race?” You breathe.

Max pauses his kisses just below your navel to flash a wicked grin up at you. “Race day can wait for a few more minutes. Right now I want to appreciate my gorgeous girl.”

You have zero arguments with that logic. With a happy sigh, you surrender to his skilled and eager mouth, letting all other concerns fade away. Everything else will have its turn — being worshiped by Max is the only thing on your schedule this morning.

Eventually though, you manage to dress and make your way to the circuit. As you ride through the streets together on the way, Max keeps an arm curled tightly around you.

“You know, despite the fancy clothes and jewelry, you’re still the same humble, kind-hearted woman I fell for,” Max says, kissing your temple. “All that other stuff just enhances your inner beauty.”

You smile and squeeze his hand as you lift your lips to meet his. “You always know just what to say.”

You keep your chin up and shoulders back as you step onto the harborside track that will soon be swarming with VIPs. With Max by your side, you have everything you need — now and always.

***

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

The cheers of the crowd echo in your ears as you watch Max pass the chequered flag, securing his win. Your heart swells with pride and love as he pulls the car over to parc fermé and hops out, immediately searching for you on the other side of the barriers.

The second his eyes land on yours, his face lights up with that smile that melts you every time. He’s barely stepped out of the car before you launch yourself into his arms.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you,” you breathlessly exclaim.

Max laughs and pulls you closer. “I’m just happy to win it for you, liefje.”

Still holding you against his chest, he claims your mouth in a fierce celebratory kiss as the team and cameras swarm around. Your world narrows to just the feeling of his lips on yours, his race suit damp with sweat under your palms.

When you finally break for air, foreheads touching, Max murmurs “I love you so much. This one was for you.”

Your answering smile feels brighter than the Monaco sunshine. “I love you too. You were incredible today.”

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a euphoric blur. Max keeps you tucked close to his side whenever he can, his arm firmly around your waist. He only has eyes for you despite the chaos surrounding him.

Finally escaping to the privacy of his driver’s room in the Red Bull motorhome, Max properly ravages you up against the door. The heady mix of victory and desire is intoxicating.

Much later, surrounded by empty champagne bottles with Max nuzzling lazy kisses across your bare shoulders, you hear a tentative knock.

“Decent?” Comes Emma’s teasing voice.

“Just a minute!” You call out, scrambling for your discarded dress.

Max pouts adorably as you wriggle back into it. “Do we have to go out? I’m enjoying having you all to myself ...”

You smile and kiss him sweetly. “Soon baby. But let’s celebrate with some friends first.”

Max sighs but nods, taking your hand as you go open the door. Emma’s eyebrows shoot up as she takes in your thoroughly debauched state, but she politely doesn’t comment.

“Y/N! There you are! Oh, and congrats on the win,” she says to Max before turning back to you. “We’re all heading to Jimmy’z for the afterparty. You have to come!”

You hesitate, glancing at Max. “Oh, actually we already have plans ...”

“Come on, it will be like old times! We can squeeze you both in, I’m sure,” Emma pleads. Your former colleagues are beckoned over — Tom, Will, Sarah, and others waving excitedly.

Their eager faces make you pause, but Max just chuckles and slides an arm around your waist. “No need for squeezing into crowded clubs. I’ve already reserved some VIP booths so we can party properly.” He winks down at you.

“Oh! Well in that case, we’ll see you there.” Emma looks impressed. The others chatter excitedly as they head off to get ready.

You grin up at Max, arms looped around his neck. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Only the best for you, beautiful.” He kisses you softly before you head off hand-in-hand.

After making yourselves presentable again, you set out into the Monaco night. The Circuit de Monaco is still abuzz with energy, music and laughter pouring from every corner.

The line outside Jimmy’z stretches far down the block. But the bouncer immediately waves you through with a respectful “Mr. Verstappen, this way please.”

You exchange a smile with Max, who keeps you tucked close against his side. It still feels surreal being ushered into exclusive areas that once intimidated you. Now it’s your glamorous new normal.

“Y/N, you made it!” Emma jumps up and hugs you tight. She eyes your designer outfit and perfectly styled hair. “Damn, look at you! Got that WAG glow going on.”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. “Oh, thanks! Just trying to look the part, I guess.”

You chat and laugh with Emma and your former coworkers as music pulses around you. When the Go-Go dancer comes by with a tray of sparklers, you impulsively grab two, popping one in your mouth and handing the other to a wide-eyed Emma.

She fumbles to light hers, watching as you tilt your head back and laugh, little sparks showering your face.

“Girl, you are wild tonight!” Emma has to shout over the music. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You just smile and rummage through your Birkin for lipstick to touch up, crossing and uncrossing your legs that sport sky-high Louboutins. Your time working 18 hour days hunched over a laptop feels like another lifetime.

Eventually needing a break from the noise, you head to the bar to refresh your drink. Emma joins you, peering at the menu.

“Damn, I can’t even pronounce half this stuff,” she laughs. “What are you thinking of getting?”

You scan the options. “Mmm, maybe the Dom Pérignon Rosé? Sounds nice.”

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “You really have gone full glam. I don’t think I ever saw you drink anything but Heineken at the track.”

You scoff, “Well we didn’t exactly have champagne on offer in our part of the paddock.”

You smile politely as the bartender brings your drink over. Emma is still eyeing you curiously.

“What?” You ask, laughing under her scrutiny.

“Nothing, just ...” She waves a hand at you. “Look at you with the designer outfit, Birkin bag, $500 drinks … you’re a whole new woman!”

You take a sip of the bubbly pink liquid and just smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, not at all!” Emma rushes to say. “You seem really happy. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You were always the practical, focused one. Now you look … fully embraced by the glitz.”

You lean against the bar, considering her words. She’s right — the old you never could’ve imagined fully embracing this lifestyle. But now you can’t imagine anything else.

“I am happier than I’ve ever been,” you tell her honestly. “With Max I’m free to enjoy life and not worry about anything. He takes care of it all.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “So he just … pays for everything, and you live this champagne lifestyle together?”

You smile, fingering the enormous diamond on your left hand. “Basically, yes. And it’s as amazing as it sounds. I’ll never need to work or stress over bills or anything again.”

“Huh.” Emma takes a thoughtful sip of her own drink. “Don’t you ever miss the thrill of data crunching and racing strategy though?”

You consider it for a moment. The thought of long hours analyzing race stats and performance metrics makes your brain hurt.

“You know … I really don’t,” you realize. “I can barely even remember the programs and systems we used. And I like it that way.”

Emma nods slowly. You can tell she’s making an effort to be open-minded about your new life. Before she can respond, you feel the presence of someone behind you.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Max murmurs, sliding his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck. “This party is nowhere near as fun without you.”

You lean back into him happily. His passion and desire for you still give you the same flutters as that first night together in Barcelona. You doubt that will ever change.

Turning in his arms, you accept the kiss he gives you, not caring that Emma is still standing there. Let her see how crazy you are for each other.

When you pull back, Max smiles down at you like you’re the only person in the crowded club. “Dance with me?” He extends a hand, already gently pulling you towards the dancefloor.

You let him lead you away without a backwards glance. Emma can think what she wants, but she can’t possibly understand your relationship with Max. You know this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Max hands you a fresh glass of champagne and keeps an arm curled around your waist as you sway together. The music and alcohol fill you with euphoria.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Max murmurs in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You smile up at him coyly. “Feel free to keep reminding me.”

Max’s answering grin is sinful. His hands travel your body as you move together. “I plan to show you later just how irresistible I find you.”

The night flies by in a blur of dancing, drinks, and stolen kisses in the shadows with Max. Your former colleagues party into the early morning, but eventually stumble back to their hotels.

You and Max retreat back to your shared apartment just as dawn breaks over the horizon. As promised, your dress hits the floor immediately. He ravages you with hungry kisses, urging you higher and higher until you cry out his name again and again.

After, wrapped securely in his arms, you sigh in utter contentment. The smooth sheets feel divine against your skin and Max gently strokes your hair as you doze against his chest.

“So I take it you had fun?” He asks, a smile in his voice.

You lift your head to grin at him. “It was amazing. Although ...” You bite your lip coyly.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Although what, schatje?”

“Well, this part is still my favorite.” You punctuate your point by straddling his waist again, bending to kiss him deeply.

Max groans appreciatively against your mouth, hands grasping your hips. “Mmm mine too. In fact, I don’t think we’re done celebrating yet ...”

Your lips part in ecstasy and your nails rake down his back as he takes you right to the edge again and again. Finally collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs, you’re both completely spent and blissful. You curl into Max’s side, eyes drifting shut.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, the words slurring together.

Max kisses your hair, stroking your back. “I love you too, Y/N. Being with you is a dream.”

You slip into peaceful dreams still wrapped in each other. The glitz and glamour of F1 life is fun, but nothing compares to the private world you share with Max.

You’ll face the crowds and cameras again soon. But right now, lost in Max’s embrace, you have everything you need.

[feral-ballad]

“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.

This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.

During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.

But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.

This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.

This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.

This is all that is left of that picture now.

I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.

I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.

I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?

I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,

Help.

I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.

It should be in your knowledge that:

It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.

Thank you.”

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 ꕤ

Sim Jake x fem!reader: masturbation

summary: Movie night gets interrupted when you decided to get a little too comfortable with your roommate...

warnings: smut, jake being a horny little shit, masturbation, y/n being a lil straightforward (?)

word count: 1.7k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You had hit the jackpot when you found a friend like Jake. You two had met in college, when the history professor had paired you up for a research project. It was in an instant that you two discovered the amount of things in common that you both had. It was crazy. You bonded through your love for dogs, music and movies. 

You had even met his friends and they loved you. They found you fun and such a great influence for Jake. 

Soon enough, you were moving in together as roommates, when he had told you that his past roommate, Sunghoon, one of his best friends, moved in with his girlfriend and he was in need to split bills. 

Movie nights were something that had grown and developed as a tradition between you two. It was two times a week, friday and sunday. On fridays, Jake was the one who could pick the movie and on sundays, it was your turn.

It was a sunday, meaning you had the privilege of having control of what you two were going to watch. 

“No, please. Not Mean Girls again” Jake huffed as you hovered over one of your favourite movies.

“Oh, come on!” you whined.

Jake rolled his eyes. “We literally watched it last week! Pick another one, please. For my sanity. I’ve memorized it at this point” he chuckled.

“Okay, fine…” you sighed. “Mamma Mia?”

“Not a musical fan, to be honest” Jake shrugged.

“Okay, what do you like?” you scoffed. “I’m not watching Scary Movie like we did two days ago”

Jake snorted, “It’s a fun movie”

“It’s immature!” you whined. “I hate jokes about drugs and penises and farts. Like what is that?” you groaned. “The Eras Tour movie?”

“What?”

“Worth a shot, I guess” you sighed. “Joker?”

“Okay” Jake nodded.

“Great, popcorn ready?” you asked him and he nodded, handing you the bowl he had prepared. 

You clicked on the movie and relaxed, placing your head against Jake’s shoulder. It was just an innocent move, you really didn’t think too much of it when you did it. It just felt comfortable at the moment and you two had shared thousands of moments like this. 

But it wasn’t innocent for Jake.

His eyes immediately fell to your head and let out a shaky sigh, that he disguised as a cough while he cleared his throat.

“You okay?” you asked him in a hum.

“Yeah…” he said, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible about it. 

Twenty minutes into the movie, you had downed the bowl of popcorn with Jake, so you left it on the coffee table in front of you. Jake didn’t expect you to get back to the place you were, right into his shoulder.

He decided to throw every thought out the window and carefully placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, resting his cheek against your hair. 

You let out a giggle and let your hand fall to his thigh, caressing it with your thumb.

Wrong fucking move.

Jake went stiff as a rock and felt himself stirring inside his pants. 

What are you doing? She’s just being nice and here you are, acting like a horny thirteen year old, Jake thought to himself. 

He was glad you were too invested in the movie playing on the screen in front of you to even notice Jake’s big frown over his forehead as he mentally and physically battled the boner he was so sure was about to pop any second now. 

You let out a sigh and squished your cheek even more against his shoulder. Your hand now went up and down over his thigh, in a loving manner. And Jake understood that, it was just that his freaking groin didn’t.

He gulped down hard and started thinking about things that could help ease the horniness creeping up his veins.

My grandma’s underwear.

Sunghoon’s smelly socks.

Layla peeing on the bathroom rug.

You on all fours waiting for him to just-

Alright. It was impossible. 

He couldn’t really focus on calming down when the scent of your shampoo was invading his senses, your face was so close to his and your hand was so fucking close to touching his dick-goddamnit.

Jake had to get out of there as soon as possible if he wanted to preserve the last bit of dignity he had left.

“Y/N- I-uh, could you wait for me?” you heard him ask you and you looked up at him with a frown. “I just want to um… go to the bathroom”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Let me pause the movie” you said and grabbed the remote control that was on the coffee table.

“No need” he muttered before sprinting towards the bathroom in a rush and closing the door behind him. 

His back hit the door and his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. Jake kicked them off his legs and let his cock fallout from the confiness of his boxers. 

Jake let out a content sigh, trying to be as quiet as he could manage, as he rubbed his palm over his shaft slowly. He bit his lip and clenched his eyes, trying his hardest not to moan.

He knew he was going to feel embarrassed about this. He literally got hard at just the touch of your hand near his crotch area. He twisted his hand over his base and let out a tiny whimper that racked through his throat.

Meanwhile, you were busy with your phone, answering unread messages and just scrolling through your Instagram feed. Your eyes fell to the hour and your eyebrows furrowed. Jake had spent almost fifteen minutes inside the bathroom. 

You decided to walk towards the bathroom, just to ask if he was okay when you heard a low whine coming from inside. 

You gasped. Your initial though was that he had fallen and hurt himself.

“Jake, you alright?” you asked out loud. 

His eyes immediately widened and his hand stopped moving, frozen over his base. “I- I, I’m fine, Y/N, don’t worry” he said, trying to seem as casual as possible, but he knew he was failing miserably. 

Your eyes widened. “Are you um… you know…”

“No, I’m not taking a shit, Y/N”

Jake didn’t know what was more embarrassing to admit.

“Okay… I just wanna know if you’re okay” you asked him in a small voice.

Jake shut his eyes with force and sighed. “I just got a little problem” he admitted. Well, he knew for sure it wasn’t little, it was just a way of saying.

“What is it?” you asked him , getting closer to the door. 

Jake couldn’t think of a moment in which he felt more embarrassed than he was right then and there. “I’mhard” he mumbled.

“Eh?” 

Jake let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I’m hard” he said, pausing so you could understand each word.

You went silent and Jake panicked for a moment, debating if he should’ve told you or not. He started to think how fast he could pack up his bags and text one of his friends if any of them had a spare room which he could crash in, while he went searching for a new apartment, probably Jungwon had one, or maybe Jay-

“I can help you out” you stated.

Yeah, Jay probably has- hold up.

“What?” he asked. He didn’t trust his mind, maybe it was the desperation he had at feeling your hands on him. 

“I said… I can help you out, Jake” you said softly. “Open up” you chuckled.

Okay, not dreaming.

Jake slowly placed the boxers back over his hard on and opened the door slowly.

Your eyes fell torturously slow over the tent in his underwear. You pressed your lips together into a thin line and smiled. “All of this because of a little cuddling?” 

“Shut up” he said and grabbed your waist, smashing his lips against yours. 

You smiled against his lips and opened your mouth, letting your tongue slip inside, curling with his own. He gripped your waist tightly, rolling his hard on over the front of your jeans roughly.

Your hands went down his chest, raking your nails through the process, and hooked one finger over the waistband of the boxers he was wearing, tugging them down and releasing his leaking cock.

“Holy shit” he gasped. “I’d never… I’d never thought we’d be here” Jake chuckled, moving your hair out of your neck and started nibbling on the skiing there, making your toes curl inside your shoes.

Your hand curled around his shaft and started moving up and down, applying pressure to the base and letting it twist on the points you noticed he was sensitive. 

“Shit… go faster babe” he panted against the curve of your neck, digging his teeth into it. You obeyed, moving your hand frantically, thumb sweeping over the tip, collecting the pre-cum leaking. “Y-yeah, like that” 

You smirked and, with your free hand, you grabbed on his hair, pulling him away from your neck so you could kiss his lips. 

He groaned against your mouth, his hands shamelessly drifting down to your ass, squeezing them over your pants. 

“I’m- I’m close…” he whispered against your lips. 

“Then come for me, Jakey” you smirked, biting his lip and pulling it roughly with your teeth. 

He nodded his head and you jerked him off even faster, pulling him to the edge. Jake spilled his load over your hand with a satisfied whimper, his forehead falling against your shoulder as he panted, trying to regain his composure.

You smiled and slowly took your hand off of him, wiping your palm with a towel. Afterwards, you threw it in the bin with the dirty clothes and looked at Jake in the eye.

“That was intense, huh?” you giggled.

“Yeah…”

Jake was looking at your face with a certain glint in his eye, and it made your stomach erupt in butterflies. But you had only one thing in mind.

“Want to return the favour?” you smirked.

Jake’s smile grew even wider.

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire //

[inchidentally]

ok but the history of Oscar noticing changes to Lando’s appearance !!! the way Oscar stares and smiles and even tho it’s supposedly meant as teasing, he never follows it up with any kind of jokey insult and it ends up as pigtail pulling attention that Lando absolutely loves. the fact that Oscar doesn’t do the Staring or the Noticing with anyone else in his life except for his literal girlfriend. that there’s no way he or someone around him hasn’t noticed the hearteyes jokes made about him all over sm since like early 2023 but he has no interest in stopping - or just can’t stop himself idk which is better ???

but esp how he pets his own hair and then the two of them just breathlessly giggle and beam at each other likEEEEE I can’t get over how Not Blokey or overtly masculine they are w each other ??? like Lando will slip a bit into cabron/mate/dude behavior w friends who are more blokey like how he’ll trade play punches w Carlos and Daniel or he’ll put his chin up and pull out the crude jokes w guys he’s less comfy with - Oscar mostly just withdraws a bit and lets his voice get deeper and more monotone. they don’t do much ! but around each other they aren’t physically aggressive and treat the physical space between each other like spring break middle school crushes, they giggle, they don’t take any funny jabs at each other or and even their play-bickering is followed by breathless giggles. but esp w how things like ‘you seem uncertain’ and ‘I was uncertain of trying it’ like they’re just chatting about the why’s and how’s of Lando’s haircut the same way they’ll get wrapped up in talking about their new driver spaces (the new couch/bed, the new door, etc) or the snacks they have to try and they kinda forget to play for the audience bc they just want to comfortably toss around the minutiae between each other bc it’s nice! and calm! and reassuring! it makes them smile and giggle and be quieter than the raucous alphas mucking about out there in the paddock!

esp with Oscar’s active listening (and GOD I’ve loved seeing how much Lando has learned he loves that about Oscar after he was a bit unsure and thrown by it early in 2023)

Lando is telling a little story about himself and Oscar is paying close attention - like he always has paid close attention to details like stories Lando told on stream years ago and a moment between Lando and MaxF from a year prior and immediately knowing the year Lando got his maiden podium - and even when Lando starts talking about his curl pattern Oscar is invested and it’s silly but it’s a thing !! and they giggle and oh that’s the end of the video just them talking about Lando’s curls and giggling :3 no taglines, no wacky moments, nothing to get social media fired up about. just them quietly chatting in their half-sleepy little voices!

but like Lando’s dimples are so deep you could fall into them and he’s wriggling delightedly on his little butt and twirling his fingers in his curls and looking up at Oscar through his lashes and Oscar is leaning back all easy and relaxed and smiling big big big like he does in the mirror selfies with Lily and goddddd they’re so unusual and sweet and killing what’s left of my sanity w each tiny video under one minute

.

.

video sources: one two three four

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[hazelsmirrorball]

Spiderman’s Biggest Fan |  Jaime Reyes.  Part 2

summary:  Jaime Reyes is the biggest spiderman fan. His girlfriend on the other hand is Spiderman's biggest hater. 

pairings: Jaime Reyes x Spiderman! FemReader 

a/n:  Hi! I received lots of love in the first part and I want to thank you guys so much. I haven’t been having the greatest week and that really cheered me up. I rarely do second parts but here you guys go. Ps. There is also another part coming soon. 

warning: English isn’t my main language. Angsty and kinda sad. Not edited

[MASTERLIST]

part one.  part three part four part five

Family dinners. 

You either love them or hate them. Good food, people you love and drama all bottled up on a dining room table at around six thirty pm. An nightly event that could either ruin your night or make a beautiful memory for the future. There was no in between and by the looks of it, Y/n was getting the short end of the stick. 

The past two weeks had been a living hell for the girl. Trying to balance her regular life with her superhero life was barely impossible the past weeks.  She had been Spiderman for years now and she had managed to balance both of her lives with ease but now, she was losing it. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t focus. Y/n had never felt like this, even when her uncle died she didn’t feel as bad as she felt right now. Her spider senses didn’t have to tell her that something bad was going to happen at this dinner, her common sense already told her that. It wouldn’t surprise her if Doc Ock would enter through the door and make a big fiasco but she thought that it would be better than standing in this uncomfortable silence. No one dared to say anything which was rare with both of the families. They usually would fight to shut people up making even more ruckus but right now the only thing you could hear was the metal of the spoons scraping off the plates and the wall on the clock. No one said a word and that drove Y/n insane. She could feel her eyelids flutter shut as she thought of the last two weeks. 

The Justice League had  been all up her ass making her work even more than usual. Not even the titans were working as much as her. Don’t get her wrong, she loved crime fighting but criminals in Palmera weren’t as scary as the ones in Gotham. She would prefer having to deal with people stealing a croissant  at a cafe than having to deal with one of the Joker's bombs. It was great that Batman trusted her with big missions but she needed a break.  Gotham wasn’t for her and quite frankly she didn’t understand how Jaime was capable of staying there for so long.  Gotham was hell and that drove her on the brick of insanity, maybe she would turn into the Joker of Palmera because at this point she was losing it as much as him. Y/n was starting to regret accepting the honorary position in the Justice League. She was in between cities Gotham, Metropolis and Palmera. Palmera, Metropolis, Gotham. 

To make matters even worse, Villains in Palmera were multiplying by the minute thanks to Blue Beetle’s  appearance and to make her life even more difficult Blue Beetle was MIA. No one had heard a word from him. She hadn’t personally met him but ever since he had shown up her life got even more difficult, so long story short she wasn't the biggest Blue Beetle fan. Since he was MIA Spiderman had to fight her “arch nemesis” plus the ones Blue Beetle had managed to bring to Palmera. Y/n knew the media was against her but she also knew that the people of Palmera counted on her. People like her family needed to be protected, there  couldn’t be more deaths like Uncle Ben’s. She wouldn’t allow that, so even if she had to lose her sanity and her life, Y/ was going to do the impossible to keep Palmera safe.  

Those problems were only the spiderman one’s. If her life as Spiderman was rough Y/n’s  life was ten feet underground. She was failing classes left and right, barely keeping up due to the fact that she was in between cities. She couldn’t talk to Jaime that night which made him completely ignore her. Aunt Marisol started acting weird around her, like she knew something she didn’t.  The Reyes family had to stop the construction due to some new laws that were happening and the tip of the iceberg, Milagro knew Y/n’s secret and she was eager to tell someone. 

Y/n wasn’t okay. Well she never was. Even though she was an orphan, Aunt Marisol and Uncle Ben made her life good, they raised her as their own and gave her a good life. They worked hard for her to get to where she was at in life.  She was okay before she was bitten. Y/n had a normal life with aspirations. She had friends and family that loved her. She was doing well in highschool and she was on her way to get a degree. She was starting her relationship with her best friend and would fantasize about having a family with Jaime. And right now, at the age of twenty two she was losing everything she worked hard for with a blink of an eye. They were in depth, she was failing school, she was going insane, she didn’t know where she stood with Jaime and Uncle Ben was dead. All because she was bitten by a radioactive spider. Scratch that, all because she didn’t have the capability of balancing her two lives. 

Before she could even go half way through her inner monologue her thoughts got broken by her head slamming against the hard wooden table waking her up immediately while also gaining everyone's attention. Her tired eyes scanned around the table straddle. Everyone was aware and used to the constant lack of sleep from her behalf but watching the dark eyebags and the food that was barely touched made them worry. Y/n noticed the multiple pair of pity eyes staring at her so she kept on looking around trying to see something different and that when she saw it. Milagros' eyes looked deep into her soul. It was worrying to Y/n already the fact that at any moment Milagro could spill the beans of her secret but the look on Y/n’s face made her scared. She was going to tell them, Y/n was dead. 

After managing to avoid the family for the past two weeks, everything was going down while they were attempting to have a nice family dinner. If she survived this she was going to remember this as the downfall of family dinners. 

Y/n glared  at Milagro  as she slowly shook her head not wanting for her to say a word. Y/n had hid her identity for years and she was successful. She never missed a beat and no one suspected a thing. But because she slipped one time, every secret she held was ruined. 

“Okay! Since no one wants to address the elephant in the room I will…” Milagro started but before she could continue. Y/n slammed her hand on the table getting up quickly, gaining everyone's attention.

“This food is amazing. You guys really ate with this. Have I told you how good you have gotten at cooking? Nana and Rocio really have helped you a lot. We should all get cooking classes so we could all make really good food like this one. We could maybe even open a food store, because from the looks of it, I might drop out of grad school. I don’t know, cooking school would probably eat. See, I’m good at telling cooking jokes. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? ” Y/n said quickly  as she picked up a glass of water gulping it down. Everyone stared at her with wide eyes trying to comprehend what was happening but before anyone could say a thing, her Aunt got up from her chair looking at her with angry eyes. 

“ Que tu me estas tratando de decir, Y/n. After everything we’ve done for you, you are going to tell me that you are failing school?”  

“No, tampoco así. Solo es que… I took two weeks off and now I’m a little behind on school but I can catch up on it now since I don’t have a job” She said quickly while closing her eyes not ready to see her aunt's face. Nana gasped as she heard the words escaping from her lips. 

“What do you mean you don’t have a job? What happened to your job at the Daily Bugle.” Aunt May exclaimed, passing a hard roughly through her hair. 

“Well, they didn’t like the fact that I took two weeks of work?” She said gulping hard not wanting to  dig herself a bigger grave.

“What? Do you think money grows on trees, Y/n! We are not rich. We can barely afford to pay rent let alone bring food to the table and you have the decency to tell me that you lost your job and that your failing school like it’s just a little game. This is real life and Ben and I risked a lot of things you could have the life you have right now. We took you in andmade you our own and this is how you repay us? These past few weeks I’ve seen a side of you I’ve never seen and Dios que feo es. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it has to stop right  now. Disappearing to God knows where, ditching school, ignoring your family, ignoring Jaime. Have you looked at yourself for a minute in the mirror? I don’t recognize the women you’ve become and quite frankly this wasn’t the way I raised you and I bet Ben wouldn’t even recognize you too” Aunt Marisol yelled sternly as Y/n stared at her tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Y/n could feel her watch buzzing but all she could hear was her aunt's voice echoing through her head. 

She screwed up and she screwed up big time. It didn’t take long for her to push her chair back and walk towards her room. As she went up the stairs she could hear hush voices talking at the table. Y/n could feel a lot of emotions right now, but most importantly she felt ashamed and embarrassed.  Y/n was fucking up her life by the minute and everyone could see it but her.  She tried her best to block it out as she entered her bed letting a loud cry onto her pillow.  She raised her head from the pillow tapping her hand against her nightstand to pick up a small compact mirror. She looked at the reflection not recognizing who was staring back at her. Aunt Marisol was right, she couldn’t even recognize herself.  She had lost herself and all her hard work. 

Y/n felt once again her watch buzzing which made her angrily throw it against the wall. She let herself drown with tears as her head fell one again on her pillow. Lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice the tall frame enter her room and sit on the edge of the bed. Once his hands rubbed her back she felt her body tense up missing the familiar touch. She slowly raised her head from the pillow looking towards them, her eyes being completely swollen already. As she got up slowly sitting next to him, she played with her hands not daring to look  him in the eyes. 

“Jaime, please listen to me when I say this. I know I’ve been acting weird and I know I’ve been a bad girlfriend. I’ve been ignoring you. But I really can’t lose you, you are the one person that keeps me sane and I know things are weird between us right now but trust me when I say this, I would never cheat on you. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I would never risk losing that. I love you so much Jaime. I-I I swear that wasn’t a hic…” Y/n said in between cries, but before she could even continue Jaime pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. Y/n cried into his chest as he rubbed her hair. 

“Y/n, I trust you. I don’t know what you're going through right now. Pero te quiero ayudar. I love you so much and it hurts me to see you like this. Even though everyone is saying that they can't recognize you, I still see that beautiful girl I’ve been in love with since forever. You’re Y/n, the caring and loveable girl that would do anything for her family. The girl that is obsessed over romance books and loves to write.  You are Y/n L/n the light to this world, to my world” Jaime said as he pulled Y/n’s chin up placing a kiss on her lips. She missed this, she missed being this close with Jaime. She remembered why she started doing this in the first place, so that Palmera could be safe so they could live the life they deserved and worked for. 

“Jaime, I wanted to tell you. I’m sp…” Before she could continue Milagros slammed the door open making the couple let go of themselves. 

“Hey! I’m sorry to ruin your little moment but Doctor Octopus just came through our front door! And he got Aunt Marisol!” 

part 3.

[MASTERLIST]

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (6)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Mischief fails, Tricks on you, When you realize what you did wrong

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed ant tags, please let me know, I'll add you right away!)

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

To say he was unamused was an understatement. Four days have gone by since the incident in the library. A complete 96 hours of him not being allowed entry into the one sanctuary he has in this tower. 5,760 minutes since he last held the book he was supposed to be reading but has been forced to leave incomplete due to one person. The Librarian; he seethed at the thought of the young woman. I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong, and she dares to keep me from the library?

Though the dismissal by the Librarian was abrupt and rude, he hardly took it as something serious and proceeded to the library the very next day. That was where the trouble began. No matter how he tapped or swiped, the same red light flashed on the panel. After the seventh attempt, he let out a sigh of frustration and nearly threw the rectangular piece of plastic at the door.

“Jarvis, what is the meaning of this?” Loki demanded.

“Please clarify,” the computer voice responded.

“Why am I unable to enter the library?”

“Because your key card is blocked from accessing the library.”

“And why is that?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. This must be a mistake. I have frequented the library every day. I’ll inform the metal man of his ‘precious’ computer system’s error.

“Loki, the second prince of Asgard and Avenger, is forbidden from entering the library until cleared by Director Y/LN, the Librarian, as of yesterday evening. You are unable to access this portion of the facility until further notice.” The second prince of Asgard silently blinked as his brain took a moment to process what was just said. 

“What did you say?” He glared at the camera that watched the entry. The computer repeated the restriction details verbatim. “Preposterous, why would I be banned from the library? I command you to remove this ludicrous restriction, immediately.”

“Unable to authorize override. A higher level of clearance is required.”

“What do you mean a ‘higher level of clearance’? What level is there higher than a prince? A literal god in your realm?” He glared at the security camera above the door. A low growl rumbled in the base of his throat, his hands balled into tight fists.

“Though you are a prince, your status does not allow you the authority above the person who instated the rule. Director Y/LN is of higher rank than you, who has Avenger status.” The insipid tone of the computer was salt to his wounded pride. A mere Midgardian who minded the books was above him? The sound of footsteps quickly quelled his ire and he left, he would try again another day. The silly order would be gone by tomorrow. Or so he thought. Here he was four days later and still denied access to the library. The same red light and same monotonous warning played each and every time.

“Perhaps I should try going in with someone else? But who?” He muttered to himself, tapping a finger against his lips.

“Loki, is everything ok?” He turned at the voice. A sound once utterly dreadful was now music to his ears. He would risk his sanity for a chance to step through those doors once more.

“Captain, err, Captain, you really are a sight for sore eyes. You see, I’ve misplaced my key card, and I wasn’t sure how else I would be able to enter the library.”

“Lost your key card? That isn’t good, you should let security know right away. You don’t want it to fall in the wrong hands. I’ll let you in with mine, but you have to promise me you’ll handle the matter right away.” He raised his card as proof as he sternly looked at the trickster god.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to cause unnecessary trouble for the Avengers who so graciously given me the chance to mend my image and prove myself. You have my word to have the matter resoled quickly.”

“Good,” Steve nodded his head before tapping his card on the panel.

“Welcome, Captain Rogers.” The doors slowly swing open, revealing the glorious sight of the towering shelves in ample lighting. Loki quickly followed in behind him, his heart swelling at the majestic sight.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you today?” The sound of her voice sent ice through his veins, the warmth quickly replaced. He needed to hide, but he was taller than Steve. Her sharp gaze pinned him to the spot. “Captain Rogers, I see you brought a guest with you. Please tell him to leave the library at once and use his own key to swipe himself in.”

“He’s having trouble getting in, Y/N. He lost his key card and couldn’t enter. You know Loki likes to read, could you let him pass this one time? For my sake?”

“The rules are the rules. All who pass through those doors must be registered in the system on entry and exit. You know it’s for security reasons. I can’t play favorites to one person and could lose my job if word got out that I’m letting people bypass protocol.” She firmly countered. Her gaze was sharp, unwavering. They were emotionless, which contrasted the charged words. Loki could not help but find himself ensnared by those eyes.

“I didn’t consider that, I’m sorry.” Steve lightly bowed his head to her before turning to Loki. “You heard her. Looks like you’ll need to get a new key card first.” The weight of the gloved hand snapped Loki out of his little daze.

“Yes, I suppose.” Loki mumbled his response, his focus never shifting from the young woman behind the desk. “Thank you for your assistance.” He forced himself to turn and break away first, leaving the library for the day.

A week’s worth of time ticked by since that day, each attempt of his thwarted in someway by the system or her.

Enough is enough! I’ve played by their little rules and look where it’s gotten me. I’ll do this my way. He pushed off the arms of the chair, using the momentum to quickly exit the lounge area that was set up for the Avengers. Just as the door opened, Loki vanished into thin air and reappeared within the walls of the library. A smug smirk pulled at his lips as he tugged at his shirt. I should’ve done this from the start. He strode towards the unmanned front desk when an alarm blared above.

“Warning, you are in violation of your revoked privileges. Please leave the library at once. Failure to do so will lead to forceful expulsion. Warning, you are in violation of your revoked privileges. Please leave the library at once. Failure to do so will lead to forceful expulsion.” The computer voice loudly repeated, startling the god of mischief. He quickly stepped out through the doors, the alarm and warning ceasing immediately. 

Perhaps I should have landed elsewhere in the library. There are obviously more cameras within the entryway. He vanished once more and reappeared next to his usual seat. There, waiting on the table, was the book he was reading. Smiling, he grabbed the book and settled into the couch when the alarms began once again. 

Warning, you are in violation of your revoked privileges. Please leave the library at once. Failure to do so will lead to forceful expulsion. Warning, you are in violation of your revoked privileges. Please leave the library at once. Failure to do so will lead to forceful expulsion.” 

“By Odin’s beard,” he slammed the book down on the table as he stood up from his seat. “How does a computer intend to forcefully remove me?!” He argued.

“You have ten minutes to leave before security is summoned.”

Of course, he gritted his teeth in frustration before vanishing from the library once more. “What reason does she have to ban me in such a humiliating manner? What wrong have I done? Absolutely nothing, that’s what!” He kicked the stool that was in his way as he walked over to the kitchenette to make himself some tea. It was his seventh cup today since he had no other means of relaxing, and he was stressed to the heaves because of this unwarranted restriction.

“Brother, is everything alright?” Thor’s voice came from his left. He watched his younger sibling suddenly appear in the lounge and instantly knew he was in a sour mood. The assault on the stool only confirmed what the deep set scowl on his face gave away. Loki waved him off dismissively at first, heavily sighing. “Clearly something is bothering you. You’ve attacked a completely harmless piece of furniture that was hardly in your way for getting tea.” He pointed to the toppled piece laying on its side.

The younger prince was ready to insist that nothing was the matter, but the words failed to come out. The look of anger and hurt in those open and expressive eyes haunted him since that fateful day. Perhaps Thor was the best person to ask. He’s friendly with them, and she seems to have taken a liking to him. “I am having a slight issue with that librarian we are to work with. She has forbidden me from entering the library. Do you know why that could be?”

“Why, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea! She hardly seems the time to do that unwarranted, perhaps your sharp tongue has gotten you into a spot of trouble once more? What did you say to her?” He took a sip of his coffee and Loki scoffed.

“I barely said three proper sentences to her before she threw me out over whatever she concocted in that troubled mind of hers!” 

“Loki, a woman scorned, is not to be taken lightly. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding when you tried to explain why you were unable to keep your promise?”

“Unable to keep my promise, what promise?” Loki frowned, but said nothing to let Thor continue. He watched his older brother’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he set his mug on the table.

“You promised to meet with her after training the day we met with her. Our session ran longer than anticipated and the time to meet was missed. Loki, did you not apologize to her?” Thor nervously eyed him, hoping he was wrong. Loki’s posture went rigid and his eyebrows shot upwards.

Is that what she meant?! I completely forgot I made such a promise. Norns, it’s not what I said, it’s what I hadn’t said! “It seems that detail slipped my mind.” He mumbled, turning back to his tea, stirring the sugar he added.

“Quite the detail to forget. My advice is you try to speak with her and clear the confusion. She needs our assistance, and we promised it to her. If you can’t go in, why not call her?”

“Do you have her number?” Thor shook his head. “Neither do I.”

 “Then send an email? She did reach out to us through there initially.”

“An email,” he wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. Though the technology was astounding, it was troublesome. But what other choice do I have? “I’ll consider it.”

“Do not wait too long, you may lose your chance. Take it from me, I’ve learned through my arguments with Jane that sometimes swifter actions are better than waiting it out. With that, I must take my leave. I have a meeting with my mission team.” He downed the last of his coffee and left, the room growing quiet and spacious without the larger than life first prince.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr

[dollysilena]

TRAINING WHEELS

CHAPTER THREE | BABY ON BOARD

ao3 | series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

five years ago, you stupidly had a fling with inarizaki athlete, miya atsumu– now, present day– he had a son he knew nothing about. you made sure it was going to stay that way, but as fate would have it, he unexpectedly stumbled back into your lives, now as volleyball’s biggest star.

wc & notes: 3.5k — this chapter was originally going to be 7k+ words, but for my own sanity during editing i decided to split it in two different chapters instead! i also thought it would be easier to read in separate chapters instead of just one really condensed one so pls forgive me 🗿

The past twelve hours had been a whirlwind for Miya Atsumu.

His day started late, but not out of his own fault! He swore it. It was just because his alarm clock didn’t go off. At least that’s what he told Coach Foster when he walked into practice late with a Starbucks frappuccino. But hey, at least he got one for everyone right? The team nutritionist yelled at him later for it because sugar wasn’t on the regiment, especially with the V-League season so soon. Hinata gladly slurped down the drink though, which consequently sent him into a sugar rush later. And once that happened, their coach chewed out Atsumu for the ginger’s erratic playing. It seemed like the scolding was neverending, but he shook it off as practice continued. He thought that the rest of the day was going to go on without any more hitches, up until he got a call from his brother. 

“She’s here right now with a kid. He’s four years old, and I don’t think the fact he looks like ya is a coincidence.”

The air stilled, and despite the clamor and ruckus of the gym around him, all Atsumu heard was the ringing in his ears and the silence on Osamu’s end. A kid?

There was no way. Osamu was just messing with him, right? It was just a prank, Suna or one of their friends probably put him up to it. There’s no way that… that he actually… He thought of you, something his mind hadn’t crossed paths with in awhile. You were just a girl who left him high and dry five years ago… without a word. He wanted to tell himself he wasn’t convinced, but something lurching in his stomach told him otherwise.

The denial didn’t stop Atsumu from abruptly running out of practice. He would deal with what the coaches had to say later.

FIVE YEARS AGO — INARIZAKI HIGH SCHOOL

“What’s up with ya?” Atsumu questioned, slumping down on the seat infront of your desk as he faced yours. “Yer acting funny, ya sick or something?”

Atsumu couldn’t care less about the fact he was bothering you in the middle of class, all he could think about is how weird you’ve been acting with him. He thought things were going good with you over the past few weeks, maybe a little too good considering you both… He shook it off. You’ve been acting odd all week, suddenly barely sparing him a glance. Despite the fact you both weren’t dating, he had to admit it was bugging him more than it should’ve.

“What makes you say that?” You responded, almost defensively. You didn’t look up from your math worksheet, and to anyone else, it would just look like you were focused on your work, but Atsumu knew you were distracted, you hadn’t moved from the same problem for over ten minutes. 

“Well, ya barely have been talking to me this week first of all,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And not to mention one of your friends told me you went home early yesterday because of food poisoning.” He didn’t mean to reveal that he had been asking around about you, but you didn’t seem to linger on it.

You fiddled with the pencil on your desk, clearly avoiding his eyes. “Why does it matter to you? It’s none of your business, Miya.”

Miya? Harsh.

“And here I thought ya liked me!” Atsumu replied, melodramatically clutching his chest as if he were wounded, albeit, his ego was admittedly a little bruised. “Of course what my girl does matters to me.”

You couldn’t help yourself from cracking a smile, and Atsumu considered it a victory. 

“We’re not even dating, we met a couple weeks ago,” you replied, shaking your head. 

Atsumu rolled his eyes. Though, you were right, you had never made anything official. It was all just harmless fun, right? 

“That didn’t seem to matter when we–”

“Be quiet!” you hissed in embarrassment. Atsumu smirked when he noticed how flustered you got. When you realized Atsumu wasn’t going to let up, you gave him another sigh. 

“I think I’m just not feeling well, probably a stomach bug or something.”

“Blegh!” Atsumu replied, sticking out his tongue. “Well don’t give it to me!”

You bore a small grin at him. Atsumu smiled back, happy that he was at least able to make you feel a little better that day.

He didn’t think that would be the last time he ever saw you.

He was going to walk you home that day and he even considered finally formally asking you out. Granted, he probably should have done that before the… bathroom incident, but he digressed. He went to your classroom later only to find your desk empty. Your classmates already said you left and he shrugged it off. He would just wait until the next day.

Then you were absent the next day, and the day after.

 It wasn’t until a whole week had passed where he felt himself starting to get worried.

You weren’t answering his texts, and after awhile, they didn’t even deliver anymore. He thought things were going well, at least to him they were… Whatever, he wasn’t going to let it get to him. If you didn’t want to talk to him anymore, so be it, it wasn’t his problem. People walked out on him all the time. He repeated it like a mantra, whatever, whatever, whatever.

But it doesn’t stop him from thinking.

As the days progressed, he felt himself plunging deeper into his doubtful thoughts.  You weren’t avoiding him on purpose were you? He didn’t realize how much it was getting to him until he missed practically every set during practice because he was too busy thinking of your smile at him instead of where Osamu’s hand was. He was tired of it, he finally decided he wasn’t going to wait for you to show up. He would get the answers himself.

Afterschool, he followed the trek to your house and stirred silently. Why was he even bothered this much about some girl he barely knew? You weren’t the first girl he was with, and he didn’t plan for you to be the last. So why was it bothering him so much? He wasn’t sure why, but it crept up his spine like a chill. 

Miya Atsumu isn’t someone you can leave, he’s always made sure of it. He’s never the one left behind. He doesn’t want to be. 

He stood on your doorstep, deliberating with himself if it was even worth it. But he didn’t come all this way for nothing. Even if you told him to get lost, atleast it would put an end to his endless lamenting. It would be better than having you plague him like a damn fever. He knocked.

He doesn’t expect your mother to answer.

“What do ya mean she moved?” Atsumu asked in disbelief.

“She’s gone to live with her grandmother in Kagawa,” your mother stated firmly. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing her anytime soon.”

Before Atsumu could pry for any other details, your mother spoke again.

“Don’t ever come back to this house.”

Then the door was slammed in his face.

PRESENT DAY

Despite his best attempts at staying in denial, he realized that all the signs were there. You were getting sick, avoiding him, your sudden disappearance. He should have known something was wrong when your mother forbade him from coming back without a reason. His mind was a flurry as he rushed through the streets of Osaka. The little voice in the back of his head that was saying it was impossible was getting flooded out, it was entirely too possible. 

In his rush inside Onigiri Miya, he was met with a body crashing into him. He looked down to see a horrified face infront of him, it’s yours. And in your arms, an unassuming boy that looked indisputably like him. A moment passed, as if the world stopped spinning on its axis. The panic seemed to be flooding out of your body and into the room. His mouth felt dry and whatever was spinning through his mind was suddenly a standstill. His gaze followed back to the boy, and his heart lurched.

There was no doubt about it, he had a son.

Even if you hadn’t told him, Atsumu could instinctively already tell, something in his gut just knew. He shared his smile, his brown eyes, and even his naturally dark hair that swept in the same way Atsumu’s did when he was that age. There was a piece of him out there, and he didn’t know all these years.

He barely choked out, “could we talk?”

While you both spoke at the table together, and as he gazed at Haru playing with Osamu and your friend not far away, he found himself wondering so many questions. What had Haru looked like when he was a baby? What was he like? Was he more energetic and lively like him? Or more quiet and reserved like his brother was? Was anyone there to help you through the pregnancy? What were his first words? Did he ever ask about him once he was old enough to understand what a father was?

“Atsumu, you realize what you’re asking right? You’re agreeing to be a father, which you just found out right now of all things. It’s a commitment, no take backsies.”

He knew he should’ve weighed the circumstances more, you were right after all, it was a commitment, a life-long one. Not to mention he barely found out an hour ago. Did he even know how to be a father? Infact, Atsumu hadn’t even considered kids in his life yet. He thought he had a long time before he thought he ever had to make that decision.

He thought about Haru, and how for years, he didn’t grow up with a father. His jaw hardened. Four years was too long for him to be absent. He couldn’t just… walk out. When he looked at Haru, he couldn’t possibly think of going on with living his life while knowing his son was out there. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

After your talk and once the situation was settled, atleast as much as it could be, Atsumu had offered to walk you home for the night. You decided to opt out of the company party you were attending for obvious reasons, and Naomi made sure to pass the news on to your boss about a “family emergency”.

 Now there he was, walking down the streets with his ex highschool fling, and his child. Whoever said life worked in unexpected ways, he wasn’t quite imagining this.

You both walked in silence, with Haru in your arms as he slept soundly. Atsumu wasn’t sure what to say, or if he even wanted to break the silence, so he kept quiet. Throughout the walk, he found himself stealing glances at you, and it felt as if he were meeting you all over again. You obviously weren’t the same girl he knew all those years ago. You held yourself up with a maturity he felt like he couldn’t match. Unlike him, sometimes he still felt like the clumsy kid he was in highschool. Maturity was something he always seemed to lack. His friends and brother always made sure to remind him of that whenever he behaved so. 

He looked down at Haru, still fast asleep. He imagined it was well past his bedtime now. You stifled a yawn as you carried the small boy, the tiredness seemed to be contagious. He saw your shoulders beginning to sag, and Atsumu realized you had been carrying him for the better portion of the walk.

“Here, let me take him,” he offered. “You’re tired.”

You looked up at him, with a raised eyebrow. “Have you held a kid before?”

He felt himself pause. Had he held a kid before? There were a few times at family reunions where he held the children of distant family members but that had all been for mere seconds before another family member scooped them up. He remembered how his mom was able to hold him and his brother at once for hours on end, how hard could it be?

“No, but I want to try seeing as I have one now.”

You laughed and extended Haru out to Atsumu, who gently took the boy as if he were made of porcelain. Haru shifted in his sleep, but comfortably adjusted into the setter’s arms.

He heard your laugh beside him and he immediately stiffened up. Had he done something wrong?

“He’s not a volleyball,” you chuckled, “hold him up from here.” You went to adjust Atsumu’s position and pushed up his arm so Haru’s weight could rest on it. He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, apparently it was harder than he thought.

“Good,” you replied, patting his arm, and he had to stop himself from blushing when he felt your fingers brushing his arm. “Now just keep him there.”

Atsumu nodded as you continued your walk. It’s then that the thought hit him—when he was finally holding Haru in his arms—that he's his. 

His arms instinctively held Haru tighter. No, he couldn’t be doubtful now. There was too much on the line and too much time lost. Unlike the past four years, he swore that he would be there from now on, no matter what.

You both rounded the corner before you got to your apartment complex, a smaller building in the quieter part of the city. You both had lived here all this time, and he didn’t know. Had he ever walked down this street unknowingly?

“This is us,” you stated, gesturing to the building. He felt himself trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came out. He just knew he didn’t want the night to end, there was still so much he had to know.

“Would you like to come in for a bit? I have some pictures of Haru I could show you.” You asked, and it was like you read his mind.

“I would like that.”

He followed you inside and into the elevator where you led him to your apartment. You flicked on the lights and Atsumu glanced around. He looked around and saw Haru’s toys laying about, pictures of the two of you framed around the home, he even spotted Haru’s homework still strewn out on the coffee table. You both crept inside, careful to be quiet as to not wake Haru. You led him down a hallway and opened a door to what he presumed was Haru’s room, and ushered him inside. 

Atsumu carried the boy inside his room, and looked around. He saw his drawings framed along the walls, toys, stuffed animals, and noticed a volleyball near his toy trunk. He made a mental note to ask Haru about that later. He padded over to the bed, and set him down so he was laying. You came up beside him, and tucked the covers over him before kissing his forehead. 

He realized this was the first time he was putting his son to sleep. Was this what having a family was like?

You both quietly exited the room, making sure to close Haru’s door so he wasn’t disturbed by you both outside.

“I can make us some tea,” you said, as he nodded. He didn’t even really like tea, he was just glad he could stay. He followed you to the kitchen, where he took a seat at the kitchen island while you put the kettle on the stove.

“Is it just ya two here?” He asked, looking around. You had some pictures framed up, as well as some photographs hung on the fridge which he could see. But from what he could tell, it was only you, Haru, and sometimes Naomi in the photos.

“Yup,” you responded, pulling out two mugs from the cabinet above you. “Since Haru was born, really.”

Atsumu felt his heart in his stomach. “Even when ya were pregnant?”

Atsumu saw you still, and he hoped he didn’t open an old wound. He scolded himself for not being more sensitive, and letting his own curiosity get the better of him. 

“When I told my parents, they kicked me out,” you stated bluntly, putting the tea bags in the cups. “They sent me to live with my grandmother, who was amazingly supportive, but she died before Haru was born, so since then it was just us.”

Atsumu was silent, he wasn't sure what to say. I’m sorry? I’m sorry that I wasn’t there? But that wasn’t enough, it didn’t change what you had to go through. The thought of you being in that delivery room by yourself only added onto the guilt on his shoulders, and his heart sank even further when he realized you had to do everything else alone too.

“Atleast Haru’s birth was quick!” You joked, a smile beaming on your face. Despite all that, you were still… positive? Atsumu was in disbelief, he probably couldn’t go through a fraction of what you had and still manage to put on a brave front. He always got into a mood, as Osamu called it, even at the smallest of inconveniences. You pushed a cup of tea towards him which he took graciously.

“Yer amazing,” he said in awe.

“It’s just tea,” you laughed, blowing on your cup. Atsumu shook his head.

“No,” he responded. “For everything. For what ya had to go through, and what you’ve done for Haru. And at eighteen? Osamu was still packing my lunches when I was that age.”

You laughed in response and it made his cheeks warm. He liked the sound, he thought.

“Let me get those photo albums I was talking about,” you said before walking into another room. You came back a few minutes later holding a few photo books.

 “Do you wanna start with the first one?” You asked, holding one out.

Atsumu eagerly nodded as he took the dusty blue album, decorated with ribbons and stickers. He could tell you had decorated it yourself. It showcased a picture of you holding a newborn Haru in the hospital. The picture almost made Atsumu frown, knowing you were by yourself that day, but he ended up smiling seeing how proudly you beamed holding the baby. He opened the book and inspected inside.

There was a sonogram of each phase Haru was in during your pregnancy, and eventually a few photos of Haru being born in the hospital. He saw the tiny notes you wrote besides the pictures, and his mouth grew agape when he saw 3.68kg written next one of Haru’s pictures.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, noticing his expression. “He was a big baby, I guess since his dad’s a pro athlete and everything.”

His face grew more horrified and he almost wanted to apologize. He apologize to his mom too considering she had twins. Then another picture caught his attention.

 “Hey, what’s this one?” He asked, pointing to another photo.

He pointed towards a picture that looked somewhat recent, he could tell since Haru seemed to be almost the same age in the picture as he was now. It was of you in a graduation cap and gown holding up Haru proudly who looked like he was cheering. It definitely wasn’t your high school graduation since Haru was in it.

“Oh, that’s when I graduated from university last year.”

“Ya completed university?” Atsumu asked in astonishment.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Pretty proud of myself. I was working two jobs and had to take night classes for a couple years but I ended up getting my degree finally a few months ago, then I got a great job at the firm I’m at now.”

No, you’re not just amazing, you’re phenomenal.

The rest of the night was filled with you and Atsumu looking over Haru’s pictures, some of his favorites being Haru’s second birthday where he had cake painted across his face from where he tried to eat his birthday cake face-first, his first day of preschool (which he found out he started this year), and one of you and Haru at a festival with matching daifuku in hand. He made a mental note to take you both when he saw how brightly you both smiled. Whenever he wasn’t looking at the photos, he was paying attention to you. He was getting to know you again.

“It’s getting late,” you yawned. “I have work tomorrow, and I probably have to explain why I missed the party tonight.”

Atsumu groaned. “That reminds me, I have to explain to my coaches tomorrow why I ran out of practice, they probably won’t believe me though.”

You giggled, before sliding out the picture of Haru’s second birthday from the book. “Maybe you can use this as proof.”

Atsumu took the photo and smiled warmly in the picture in his hands. The picture would find a well-loved home in his wallet, but would later be replaced with a picture of the three of you adorning matching jerseys on Haru’s eighth birthday at one of Atsumu’s games.

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[yuanf3]

VIXEN — HAN SEOUL-OH

2. chapter two — "heart-to-heart"

series masterlist

A/N sorry everyone for the delay, got caught up with school - anyway, here's chapter two, hope you like it <3

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The sun bore down relentlessly, casting waves of heat that seemed to dance off the cracked pavement. Beads of sweat formed on my brow and I let out a breath but remained focused, my hands steady on the wheel of the 86’ Honda Civic. I sat patiently, my eyes fixed on the men across the street, their movements deliberate as they loaded duffel bags into the sleek black SUV. 

Come on, let's go already.

As they finally finished — thank fucking God — and climbed into the vehicle, I fired up the engine of my own car and reached for the burner phone, fingers dancing over the screen to dial Dom's number. 

"Four's on the move," I murmured into the receiver before hanging up, my attention shifting back to the road as I subtly tailed the SUV.

Minutes ticked by, the world blurring past as I kept a safe distance and weaved through the bustling streets, the black SUV never far from my sight. Then, like clockwork, I spotted a familiar 70s Dodge and beat-up Nissan idling at the intersection ahead, and I briefly glanced to my left, catching my brother staring at me. A sudden sense of realization crept into the back of my mind. I shook my head, scoffing. Our plan was working.

Another heartbeat later, and we split off in different directions, each of us playing our part. My heart raced, fueled by adrenaline cursing through my veins when Tej's voice crackled through the radio on the passenger seat, his words slicing through the tension. 

"I know y'all said they were consolidating the money somewhere, but, y'all ain't going to believe this."

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I stood under the scorching midday sun, squinting against its relentless glare as it beat down on the streets of Rio. The heat was oppressive, mirroring the tension that hung thick in the air around us. My eyes narrowed as I caught sight of the imposing building ahead, its stone facade gleaming in the sunlight — a freaking Police Station.

The irony wasn't lost on me, and I felt a wry smirk tug at the corners of my lips. Police officers bustled in and out, seeming oblivious to the criminal activity unfolding right under their noses. I wanted to scoff at the whole situation. Hernan Reyes, the notorious drug lord, hiding his ill-gotten gains right under the nose of the law. It was audacious, I had to give him that. But it also made our job that much more difficult.

"Well," Brian muttered under his breath, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, "this job just got a lot harder."

“No kidding,” I chimed in, standing beside him and crossing my arms over my chest, my expression a mix of amusement and disbelief, “We’ll have to get even more creative.”

Rome's voice cut through the tension, his disbelief palpable. "If he's moving it into a police station, he's got some serious brass in his pocket."

"Looks like this is going to be a shorter trip than I thought," Santos said in Spanish, his tone heavy with defeat and resignation. Leo's agreement was swift and vehement, "Hell, yeah, we can't do this."

“'Can't'? You mean, 'shouldn't,'" Han’s words sliced through the conversation, drawing my attention. I turned to him, a flicker of surprise at his perspective dancing in my eyes. A small smile passed between us before I quickly turned away, squashing any flicker of conflicted emotion this man’s smile stirred within me. 

Before I could dwell on it further though, Dom's voice broke through the internal turmoil. "I say we stick to the plan."

"You say what?" Roman's incredulous voice broke the silence, injecting his trademark skepticism. His words drew my attention, and I turned to him, intrigued by his reaction. He looked at Toretto as if the man lost his mind. Couldn’t blame him.

"This just went from Mission: Impossible to Mission: In-freaking-sanity," he continued to exclaim, his frustration evident in his tone.

I exchanged a knowing glance with Brian, a small smirk playing at the corner of my lips. Roman's dramatic outburst never failed to entertain.

"Whatever, man. I ain't scared, I'm just letting you all know, going in that building is crazy," he finally declared. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away.

My brother followed his suit as he muttered, "I got this.”

Aware of the moment of silence and a whispered conversation between Leo and Santos, I stepped closer to Dom, the midday sun beating down on us, casting harsh shadows across the pavement. 

"Don't worry about him," I said, my voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Pearce is a full-time drama queen, but he'll come around. Besides, we’ve faced crazier situations than this before."

Dom nodded, his expression still serious. "Yeah, but this time we're walking into the lion's den. Reyes isn't going to make it easy for us."

I couldn't deny the truth in his words, but I had to maintain some semblance of optimism.

"True, but that's never stopped you before. You've always found a way to come out on top,” I replied, my tone firm, injecting a note of reassurance into my voice that I hoped would bolster his resolve. 

"We gotta make sure everyone's on board before we move forward,” he said, his gaze scanning the scenery ahead of us. He seemed lost in his thoughts as if this job put more pressure on him than anything ever before but he’s been like that since I’ve met him. I guessed losing the love of your life had that effect on you. 

I’ve never gotten a chance to meet Letty. It was ironic actually because my brother met up with her quite often in our apartment during her undercover work to take down Braga but I was either out with friends or working. Brian sometimes shared a few stories about her from the time when he wanted to make a detective, how he always thought that Letty had seen right through him but she never said a word. Things would’ve been different if she did. That’s why in some kind of a twisted way, I owed her. 

"Agreed," I affirmed, crossing my arms on my chest and then shrugged, following Dom’s gaze. "No biggie. Just remind them of the 11 million they're getting."

My attempt at levity didn't go unnoticed. I grinned and watched as a brief crack in his serious demeanor appeared and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Bullseye. 

It was good to loosen up a bit, especially during moments like this, so I liked to think that sometimes optimism was the best thing one could ask for in times of struggle. And I was here to provide it. 

Because God only knew how much I needed it.

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The dimly section of the warehouse cast shadows across our faces as we gathered around the table. Out of pure coincidence, I stood beside Han, my senses on high alert while the place seemed to shrink with every second that went by. I felt like I was sixteen again, having a crush on a boy who helped out in Brian’s garage part-time, only to find out he was gay and worked there to ogle my brother. Tough times. Learned my lesson, never again. 

That’s why irritation grew inside me like a parasite and the uncomfortable feeling of awkwardness washed over me as the scent of his perfume lingered in my senses and my attention was divided between the man to my right and the task at hand. His presence was like a magnetic force I couldn't ignore, even as I desperately tried to focus on Mia’s briefing.

"The beauty of public offices?” She leaned over the table, a roll-up in hand, exposing the blueprints of the Police Station we wanted to break into. I was aware of the fact of how ridiculous it sounded. “Public records."

Brian's finger jabbed at a point in the labyrinth of walls and measurements. "This is where he's keeping the money. The vault in the evidence room."

“Um. Uh, yeah. Can I get everyone's attention, right here, for a second?” Tej interjected, raising his finger. “We're talking about breaking into a police station.”

Silence fell upon us as everyone waited for him to elaborate. “Is anyone listening to those words? Anybody? Popo? Five-O. One-time. Pigs. People we don't like.”

He’s got a point.

"You know, police stations are designed to keep people in, not out,” Han spoke calmly, glancing toward Dom, who observed with a cautious and sharp gaze. I could almost see gears turning in his head like the man was coming up with a detailed plan on the spot. 

My brother nodded in agreement. "That's why it's a stealth mission. We'll be in and out before they even know we were there."

"Well, we'll need to get eyes in there,” I chimed in, already getting an idea of what we could use. Or rather who. “At least to find out the make and model of that vault."

"So the vault and then, so…” Roman muttered probably to no one specifically, seemingly lost in thought, making a sudden, weird gesture towards the papers. “It's crazy. Who's supposed to do all this?"

Without missing a beat, I exchanged a knowing glance with Brian before turning to Pearce. Another wave of silence settled between our group as the man in question looked around, bewildered by our sudden focus on him. I raised my eyebrow, waiting for him to realize what was going on. His eureka moment occurred a second later.

"What do you mean? Why me?"

"Because you got the biggest mouth,” I stated matter-of-factly as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. My smile was sweet as honey when I earned a scoff from Tej, a couple of snickers from the others, and a very offended stare-down from Rome.

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The sun cast hues of orange and pink across the sky as I stood alone on the rooftop of the warehouse, the wind whispering against my bare skin. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to relax, even if just for a second. It was moments like these that made me forget the troubles that constantly haunted me. 

Brian, Tej, and Rome had gone to the station to get an idea of what exactly we were about to encounter and it was nothing that we hadn’t expected already, so Santos and Leo had taken over to blow up a few pipes in the main bathroom. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see these two smiling like Cheshire cats when they heard what their job was. It was safe to say that I had my doubts but hey, gotta be positive, right?

Just as I began to lose myself in the beauty of the scene unfolding in front of me, my phone interrupted the moment with a sharp ding.

“There goes my peace,” I muttered to myself. Sighing, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and glanced down to see a text from an unknown number flashing on the screen. My brows furrowed and I quickly unlocked the screen, my eyes going back and forth as I read the message that immediately sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

Have fun in Brazil, love. I’ll see you soon.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, igniting a surge of anger and panic within me. It was like the wind got knocked out of me and my heart sank as painful memories flood back, memories I've tried so hard to bury from a time when I had been naive and desperate. I never told Brian how badly I’ve struggled after I’ve moved to London. I didn’t want him to know about that part of my life where I made mistakes that almost cost me my life.

Those first few months after my move, when I was vulnerable and alone, struggling to make ends meet and juggling between studies and two jobs, were terrifying. My brother was gone, disappeared without a trace, I was hit with the enormous amount of assignments and I was about to be evicted from my apartment.

Then I met Owen. He appeared like a savior, dazzling me with his charm, his sophistication, his extravagant gestures that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. Back then, I had been naive, craving affection and stability in a city that felt alien and hostile. 

I thought I loved him. He had swept me off my feet with his lavish dates, his expensive gifts, his promises of a life I had only ever dreamed of. And as simple as that, I had fallen. Oh, how I had fallen, head over heels, straight into his trap. I hadn't even stopped to question the sincerity of his words or the intentions behind his actions. I was too enraptured by the illusion he had crafted around me, too desperate to believe that someone like him could truly care for someone like me. Someone so insecure and scared.

I didn’t realize who he was until it was already too late. The facade had slowly begun to crack, revealing the darkness lurking beneath the surface. And then, when I finally dared to confront him, to demand the truth I had been too afraid to seek, he’d shown his true colors. The subtle manipulation, the way he always seemed to know just what to say or do to keep me ensnared in his web. I was so blinded by the illusion of love that I never stopped to question the price I was paying.

And I’ve paid a fortune. I’ve paid in tears shed in the dead of night when I thought no one was watching. In missed calls from my friends, whose concerns were silenced by Shaw, and in the gradual erosion of my self-worth, chipped away bit by bit until there was almost nothing left. It was a miracle I’ve managed to leave him, but I wouldn’t be able to if it wasn’t for Hilly and Jessie. 

Now, a fury surged through my veins. I wanted to throw my phone against the concrete floor, to scream out in frustration and defiance. But instead, I took a deep breath and forced myself to ignore the message, to push it aside like I've pushed aside so many other reminders of my past. If he was going to try and get me, I’d welcome him with open arms and a gun pointed at his head. 

With a sharp exhale, I dismissed the text, refusing to let fear consume me. The hatred I’ve felt towards Shaw had reached a level that could no longer be described with words but with actions. 

As I stared at the vanishing sun, lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly startled by the sound of footsteps approaching behind me. Instinctively, my body tensed, ready to defend myself against any potential threat. But before I could react further, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

"Quite the view, isn't it?"

Han's voice was calm and reassuring, instantly soothing the frayed edges of my nerves. Slowly, I turned to face him, my heartbeat gradually returning to its normal rhythm. He had a small smile engraved within his stoic expression.

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Yeah, it is."

"Brian sent me up here to find you,” he said and stepped closer, his presence comforting yet electrifying all at once as he stood next to me. “They're looking for you,"

Sorry. My crazy ex just texted me and almost scared the shit out of me. I felt like that would’ve been a conversation breaker, so instead, I sighed, tearing my gaze away from the horizon with a pang of guilt for disappearing without a word. Should’ve told someone I was coming here. "Well, you found me."

My gaze caught with his as his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. There was a brief silence between us, but it was not uncomfortable. Instead, it was filled with an unspoken understanding, a sense that Han saw right through the walls I've built around myself, and at that moment, I couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at me. 

I felt exposed under his scrutiny. It was as if he saw through the facade I'd carefully crafted, glimpsing the turmoil that lay beneath. Panic threatened to claw its way back into my chest, but I pushed it down, refusing to let it surface.

Swallowing the bitter taste that formed in my mouth, I decided to break the silence, my voice steady. "I just needed a moment alone.”

"I get it," he replied simply, his tone gentle yet reassuring. His dark eyes met mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. But beneath the surface, there was a tension, a hesitation that I couldn’t quite shake. This was dangerous. This… This whole situation was a disaster waiting to unfold and I couldn’t afford to let myself get too close. I burned myself once and I got a reminder of the consequences not that long ago. Fear gripped me tightly, twisting my insides into knots as I tried to suppress the memories of my past but I wasn’t brave enough to do so.

Instinctively, I step back, creating a safe distance between us. It's not that I didn’t trust Han, despite meeting him only a few days ago. I didn’t trust myself and there was something about our connection that both enticed and terrified me. 

God, I was a mess, wasn’t I?

"Come on," Han's voice interrupted my tumultuous thoughts, breaking the spell that bound us in this moment of uncertainty. "Let's head back down."

I nodded silently, torn between the urge to flee and the longing to stay. But as I took a step forward to walk past him into the warehouse, heading towards the stairwell, I fought to ignore the ache that spread in my chest.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤ ◢◤ ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤ ◢◤ ◢◤

series masterlist

[r1mmvhub]

✄ new life

tw: +18, an unpleasant description, random murder, poetic inserts, death character: jimmy/curly summary: excited by a new idea, jimmy, no matter what, wants to connect his life with curly forever.

art by _oleg_art

i need to be closer to him than ever, in one body forever.

in a desolate world where everyone is talking about us being dire.

i will take advantage of you, i will pierce our beauty with a needle for the first time.

completely in agony, the crippled body only vomits more blood, spewing out of its abyss of fear the remnants of sanity, which our hero lacked so much. rinsing in liters of thoughts, the result of this procedure — falling into the abyss, going limp in the intestines of an enemy, cutting off a four—chamber, filling the lungs with water, — was the dirty birth of a holy idea that cannot be aborted at this time.

demons used to be burned. women who gave birth to children of satan, consumed by the fiery gehenna, were immediately declared witches, branded for life and even driven away. and now, on the remains of a fictional island, a miracle will take place in a matter of minutes. the devil himself will deal with the creation of a new creation, which would be called lucifer, who, by his stupid mistake, dared to break the rule of god and descend into the wrath of hell itself. and he will pay with the abortion of his old life, in return for the atonement of the sins of the dead.

the creator longed for this birth, and he agreed only under compulsion.

the skin is sewn to the muscles with a thread (dirt seeps into wounds, bandages can no longer absorb new liquid, and the stench is unbearable: mixed secretions, remnants of dried feces, dissolved urine, dried saliva and blood, foreign antiseptics, fresh rinses — useless moments of time when you wanted to wash away all the shame; even sweetly), preserving cracked dreams and hopes, fear and impotence. i wanted to howl in pain, but there was no voice left. as well as the rights to any desire, a possible solution. you won't live quietly even in silence.

he wanted to define new boundaries of permissiveness, completely erasing the old ones, and in principle, destroying any. nothing else and no one will bother them. even my own thoughts.

while the first, inspired by fear, anxiety and faith in his new mission, like a messiah, condemns to salvation — stitches two bodies together, the second humbly died at the last moment, thanking the desert world for a new opportunity for a new life.

[annab-nana]

“Please get off the lake-the ice is too thin to skate on and I don’t want to have to jump in after you.” With the fruity four. God Eddie would be so scared and worried but you and Robin are just having so much fun🥺

eddie is a nervous nelly and i love it hahah

warnings: not proofread

❀ masterlist ❀

"does the ice look a little too thin to you guys?" eddie asked as you and robin laced up your skates.

"i don't think so," you told him honestly. was it the thickest ice you've ever laid eyes on? no, but it looked fine to you.

normally, steve would be the determiner of ice thickness, but in her haste to get out the door this morning, nancy only grabbed one of her skates. steve offered to drop robin with you and eddie while he took nancy back to her place to get her other ice skate. so it was just you, robin, and a very nervous eddie.

"are you not joining us?" robin questioned eddie once she took notice of how he wasn't changing out his boots for skates.

"nah," he responded, his breath visible as it exited his mouth, "i think i'll wait for steve and nancy to get back.

"suit yourself," robin stated. she stood and held her hand out to you. "let's go shred some ice."

"wait," eddie called, standing when you two neared the edge of the lake. "why don't we all wait for them to get back? then, we can all skate together."

robin rolled her eyes and shook her head while you spoke up. "eddie, we've been waiting all year for the weather to get like this so we could skate."

"and steve literally told me before he left to go ahead and start without him," robin added. "if you want to skate together, then come on and skate with us."

eddie's lack of movement told you both he was going to wait, so you made your way onto the lake.

about five minutes passed of you two having the time of your lives on the ice and of eddie sitting on the edge of the bench before he had had enough.

"y/n! robin!" your giggles of glee quietened at the sound of your names and you glided over to eddie. "please get off the lake. the ice is too thin to skate on and i don’t want to have to jump in after you, so please, for my sanity, get off the lake."

robin went to protest, but your hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"okay," you gave in, turning to robin who threw you an incredulous look. "we can wait until steve comes back. he'll feel better once he's got steve's approval and they should be back any minute now anyway."

"fine," robin replied with no enthusiasm at all.

"oh thank god," eddie breathed out, hugging you both once you were safely off the lake. robin pushed back a little bit while you let him hug you.

"sorry about her," you mumbled into eddie's ear when you pulled away.

"well, you know what you have to do now, munson?" robin proposed while you and eddie both waited to see where she was headed. "you have to entertain us, so go ahead. entertain."

eddie looked at you to which you shrugged. then, he let his eyes scan the area around you all.

"wanna make snow angels or build a snowman?" he inquired, looking between the two of you.

robin and you shared a look in your eye and you knew then that you were both choosing the same thing.

"snowman."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

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tag list: @fiction-is-life @marjorie189 @jellyfishbeansontoast

[bullet-prooflove]

Ophelia!Series - Part Four:  PSYOPS - Charlie 1 x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

Ophelia!Series:

Part One: Casino Royale - Charlie runs into his ex for the first time since she disappeared at an underground casino game.

Part Two: Taken - Charlie recieves news that you've been taken.

Part Three: Ohana - Charlie goe to Joe to get help.

When Charlie gets boots on the ground in Mexico, he’s confident you’re still alive. Flores Rodrigo arrived back in the country an hour before Charlie touched down, he’d barely have time to fuck his favourite whore before he got around to torturing you. Charlie hopes to get to you first.

His contacts tell him that they have an American woman stowed away in a storage container near the compound, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that it’s you.

He’s heard about what goes on in those storage containers, the PSYOPS shit. Music or sounds blasted at full volume until it felt like your ears were bleeding, the same song on repeat over and over and over again until it felt like you were losing your mind.

With physical pain you could anticipate it, you know that at some point it’ll dull, end even. With this it’s relentless, a method of breaking down the mental barriers until you’re clinging to your sanity.

It was used in Iraq as an interrogation tactic, it takes four days to break a prisoner.

The sound that Rodrigo has chosen for you…

It’s the sound of a baby crying, there’s a special kind of cruelty in that because you lost a baby the year before you disappeared on Charlie. You lost his baby. He guesses Flores must have purchased your medical records, took note of it.

It nauseates Charlie.

It drives him crazy after only two minutes, hearing that noise, for you it’s been hours. It doesn’t take him long to dispatch the men guarding you, Rodrigo is overconfident due to his deal with the US government, he thinks that no one’s coming for you. He puts a bullet in the stereo because that fucking noise…

He can’t stand it.

When he opens the door to the storage unit it’s worse than he imagined. His heart stops beating in his chest because for a second, he thinks you’re dead, your body hangs limp from a pair of zip ties threaded through a metal strut in the ceiling. The heat is overwhelming, it scorches his skin as he stands in the doorway his heart pounding. The left side of your face is covered in dirt and blood, your skin sallow and your lips cracked. His gaze strays to your chest, you’re breathing but barely. He can hear the faint rasp over the rush of blood in his own ears.

He tries to be gentle when he cuts you down, his arm looped around your waist as your knees buckle and you collapse against him. You’re weak, dehydrated, barely clinging to consciousness as he drags you outside of the sweltering hotbox. He’s careful as he lowers you to the ground, propping you up against the outside of the container before he removes the canteen of water from his rucksack and presses it to your lips.

“Come on beautiful.” He whispers as he tilts your head back. “Take a sip for me.”

It takes a second for you to comprehend but then you follow his instruction, gulping from the canteen greedily.

“Easy.” He advises “Just a little at a time.”

You push his arm away indicating you’ve had enough to drink before your eyes flicker open and meet his.

It’s the most beautiful fucking sight Charlie has ever seen.

“I’ve got you.” He assures you, his thumb chasing away the tear that leaks down your cheek. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

Love Charlie 1? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[partiallyderived]

-ˋˏ pens, pop, and potential love interests ˎˊ (kjh)

Summary: You lend the cute guy in class a pen.

Pairing: Kum Junhyeon x GN!Reader

Word Count: 683 words

Warning(s): None.

A/N: My dudes, this is crack. I haven't published anything since 2021 and my writing skills need honing, but enjoy. Also, like many college students, I am sleep deprived. The Pop in the title refers to soda. I'm going to edit this when I'm less sleep deprived. There will be an extended cut.

It begins with Pepsi.

Or, rather, it begins with a pen — a good, well-used Maxwriter in blue, which everyone knows is the best type of pen for taking notes; cheap but not cheap.

When you first meet him, his hair is dyed brown. In the light, it doesn’t look like coffee or strong tea or oak or chestnut; it looks like the toffees of your childhood, the ones your grandparents pressed into your hands with each visit.

His name is Kum Junhyeon — nineteen years old, three months older than you and leagues apart in confidence and popularity; the apple of the seniors’ eyes — and he sits behind you in your nine a.m. Biomolecules lecture. He laughs like a thundercloud and makes jokes that make even the strictest of professors smile, and maybe, just maybe, you are a little infatuated with him.

Because it can’t be anything else when he taps you on the shoulder and you freeze.

Caught like a deer in headlights when all the poor boy wants is a pen because his ran out of ink.

What you remember of the exchange is that you thrust your pencil pouch at him — all six pens, four pencils and two highlighters worth of it. You fumble a little in the middle — the angle is awkward, and the next table is placed just a bit higher than the one in front of it — and he has to grab onto the pouch so it doesn’t spill onto the floor, which means he has to grab onto your hands, which means your hands jolt like a kick-started engine, which means —

“Oh my god I like him?!”

Esha from Psychology, first year like yourself, has no sympathy. She’s taken to your life as if it were a drama made specially for her, and even now, she lounges on her bed like a queen, popping jelly beans into her mouth while you have a fun little breakdown on your side of the room.

“But like,” she says once the jelly beans have run out, “he’s cute, right?”

“The cutest. I hate it. My heart goes all wonky when I’m around him, and he didn’t even give me my pen back.”

//

He’s there early in your next class, dressed in a hoodie and jeans pulled so low that you have to tell yourself to avert your eyes. He looks sheepish.

You slide into the seat beside him instead of the one in front of him. A test of courage, but also because you want your pen back.

He does not have the pen. He lost the pen. He is not sheepish because of the pants; he’s sheepish because he has to tell you he lost your pen.

But Junhyeon is quick to clarify, “But it’s not that I lost it, (Name). More like, I don’t know, someone stole it from me. I swear!”

The story goes that he went to submit his work to the teacher and left the pen in the Biochemistry lab. When he came back five minutes later, the pen was gone.

“It was a good pen! The best pen! I’ve never held a better pen in my life!” Junhyeon tells you, and you believe him, because Maxwriters are good pens. And it’s fine! You can always buy another one, but you really liked that pen.

Rest in Peace, Maxwriter. Sacrificed for some guy. You were a real one.

///

Honestly, you think it’s a forgotten thing. The Professor came in before you could respond, but you had flashed him a thumbs up and gone about your business, and he hadn’t really said anything else during class, so that was that.

And then, in the canteen, when you and Esha have finally managed to get a simultaneous free period, one of the guys from Physics sets a bottle of Pepsi in front of you. Taped to the condensation, barely holding on for dear life like your sanity, is a sticky note that says I’m sorry for losing your pen. :( We should totally go out to buy another pack together - Junhyeon.

Boys are so stupid. He didn’t even write his number down.

Taglist: @daintydongyoung @zerobaseonefics @urielphix @incorrectzbone @i520u

[librarycards]

For those of you who have never been forcibly confined to an underfunded and neglected asylum for the insane, allow me to educate you. I was not surrounded by rolling green lawns, patrician doctors and blue-blooded patients. I was not ensconced in a pastel-painted bedroom, complete with chaise lounges and high thread-count sheets. This was Bedlam. The constant din and commotion were worthy of a South African soccer match. The walls were covered in what looked like boogers and shit. The toilets were clogged with vomit. There were room checks every fifteen minutes, twenty-four hours a day—a flashlight beamed rudely on my face, loud knocking on the door, “Hello!” screamed at me every time I dared close my eyes. [...] Dr. J had no interest in whether or not I was working to resolve the stressors in my life, or whether I had gained the ability to re-enter society as a happy and productive member. Dr J cared only that I express INSIGHT, of which the first step—borrowed from the Alcoholics—was for me to admit that I was powerless over my disease or disorder, that my life had become unmanageable, and that only a power greater than myself, (namely: Psychiatry,) could restore me to sanity. He left. I didn’t see him again for another week.

Aishah Simone, Suicides.

[emphasis added]

[artbean]

Corroded Coffin has come out of the gates swinging with their debut album, Resurrection.

Four boys from Hawkins, Indiana have captured lightning in a bottle with this hot new record. Controversial, subversive, but most importantly: metal, Corroded Coffin bring a unique sound to the scene that pays homage to the greats while having something fresh to say. (ID in alt text ; REBLOG DON’T REPOST)

The album begins with hard hitting lyrics about the frustrations of repeating the same struggles day in and day out in Sisyphus. Leading into Freak, which angrily harps on societal fears of the unfamiliar. Divide Divide is a heartbreakingly romantic departure from that—Munson sings about unrequited love while likening the object of his affection to seraphim, wailing “I realize on my ascent / That your love was heaven sent / I won’t be the one you choose / You were never mine to lose.”

Feather/Board is the first experimental track of the album, with an emphasis on drums and the guitar cutting out intermittently. Tackling the concept of one sided promises, Broken Pinky explores the hurt of betrayal. Vulture’s Lament is likely to be a cult favorite, a hidden gem tucked in the middle with a more theatrical lilt to the lyrics and vocal style laced with tongue-in-cheek humor, with lines like “They say beggars can’t be choosers / Sanity’s the price you pay / Here, the winners are the losers / In this buffet of decay.”

Opening the second half, Corpse Masterpiece blows you away with a wall of sound, pushing the Dorian Grey-esque concept of artistic immortality and how your image can warp over time. Metamorphasize addresses the masks we put on to fit one place or another, with the most impressive guitar solo yet. Sweetheart somehow brings it all back to earth without losing any momentum, subverting your definition of sweetness and love itself. “When I crack open my chest / You occupy my ribcage / Sweetheart, you’re not like the rest / You’ve made your mark upon my page.”

Closing it out with Leftover from the Rapture, clocking at a whopping 7 minutes and being the most daring musically of the entire album, there isn’t a more breathtaking note to be left with. The song muses on survivors guilt, and the thought of the last man standing having some sort of a moral failing for not being more self sacrificial. The riffs in this are nothing short of genius, weaving around the vocal line in a haunting echo, leaving us with the final phrase—“Can’t go back, too late to run now / Can’t escape what I’ve become, how / With my last breath the devil’s won / I’m hurtling straight into the sun.”