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bettys-redwinesupernova · 3 days ago

Text

BEGIN AGAIN

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a revenge plan turns complicated when y/n falls for rafe cameron—the one person she was never supposed to love. but was it ever just revenge?

based on this ask !! this request has been in the works for a couple weeks (hence the 5k word count😝), i really really enjoyed writing this and as soon as i read it i knew i had to make it inspired by ‘begin again,’ and i hope you don’t mind me taking creative liberty on this one anon, so thank you !! <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: some angst but a fluff ending, cheating (jj to reader), soft!rafe, cursing, allusions to sex, revenge plan to lovers (?), alcohol consumption, rafe has a normal family in this one (😀). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (i got insanely carried away🫣)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N could still feel the sting of JJ's words, the way they sliced through her like a dull knife—slow, painful, irreparable.

"It just happened, okay?" he had said, desperation laced in his voice. "It didn't mean anything, baby. I swear."

But it did.

If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have done it. If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have shattered her trust, her love, her belief in him with a single, reckless mistake.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, hands curled into fists at her sides. The night air was thick with humidity, the salty ocean breeze doing nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.

"You cheated on me with Kiara?" she spat, her voice trembling, though not with sadness—no, sadness was something she'd felt the moment the words left his mouth. Now, it was only rage. "And you expect me to just—what? Pretend it didn't happen?"

JJ ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking more disheveled than usual. "I was drunk, Y/N. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"

"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't stand there and try to make excuses." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know what hurts the most, JJ? It's not even just the cheating. It's the fact that I defended you to everyone. My parents, my friends. They all told me I was stupid for choosing a Pogue over every other guy who actually makes sense for me. But I didn't care, because I loved you."

Her voice broke, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it together.

"And what did you do with that?" she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes blazing. "You threw it in my face. You embarrassed me."

JJ's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

"Yeah? Well, you did."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Y/N could see it in his face—the guilt, the regret. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "We're done, JJ."

His head snapped up. "Y/N—"

"Don't," she warned, her voice final. "You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

And with that, she turned and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She didn't cry.

Not when she got home, not when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even when the memories of JJ and everything they had crashed over her like a tidal wave. No, she didn't cry.

She just got angry.

Because she had been loyal. She had been good to him. She had given him everything, only for him to betray her with Kiara of all people—the one girl she had actually trusted.

And now? Now, she wanted him to hurt.

Which was exactly why she was standing in front of Tannyhill, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was reckless. Dangerous, even. But she didn't care.

She needed this.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just the person to help her get it.

—

Rafe Cameron was a lot of things—arrogant, temperamental, a little unhinged—but he wasn't stupid.

So when Y/N showed up at his door at nearly midnight, looking like she was on the verge of either committing murder or breaking down completely, he knew something had happened.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes scanning her face. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. "I need your help."

Rafe raised a brow. "With what?"

"Making JJ regret everything."

A slow smirk curled at the corners of his lips. "Interesting."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Are you in or not?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really wanna do this?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, he just studied her, as if trying to figure out how serious she was. Then, something shifted in his expression.

"Alright," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Let's make him suffer."

The plan was simple.

Make JJ jealous. Make him see what he lost. Make him regret ever touching Kiara.

But some point during that evening, the lines blurred.

Because Rafe was Rafe—intense, intoxicating, dangerously charismatic. And Y/N was already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

So when they ended up in his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, it wasn't just about JJ anymore.

It was about the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The way his hands skimmed her waist, his touch possessive yet careful. The way his breath fanned against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Still thinking about JJ?" he murmured, fingers tracing slow patterns on her hip.

She met his gaze, lips parted, heart pounding.

"No," she admitted, and it was the truth.

Because in that moment, it wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about making JJ jealous.

It was about the fire in her veins, the ache in her chest, the desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.

And Rafe—Rafe was more than willing to oblige.

His lips crashed against hers, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing except Rafe Cameron.

—

Y/N lay beside Rafe, her body still humming from the events of the night. The air between them was thick with something she couldn't quite name—satisfaction, exhilaration, maybe even something deeper. The sheets were a mess, tangled between them as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

Beside her, Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from their heated encounter. There was something different about the way he was looking at her, but Y/N shoved that thought away before she could entertain it. This wasn't about them. This wasn't about feelings.

It was about revenge.

"So, how do you wanna play this?" Rafe asked, tracing his fingers lazily over her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes sharp despite the haziness of their moment. "We make it obvious enough that JJ notices," she said, her voice steady, as if the way his touch sent shivers down her spine wasn't affecting her. "But not so obvious that it looks fake."

Rafe chuckled. "So, we make it look real then?"

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was doing—he liked to mess with her, push her buttons, see how far he could get under her skin. But she wouldn't let him win.

"Exactly," she said, rolling onto her side, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're his biggest enemy, and I'm his biggest mistake. Nothing will drive him crazier than seeing me with you."

Rafe's smirk widened. "You really are ruthless when you want to be."

"You have no idea."

Rafe hummed in amusement, and with that, their arrangement was set.

This was about JJ. About making him regret everything.

At least, that's what Y/N told herself.

—

The first time they made their "relationship" public, it was calculated. Rafe had picked her up from the country club in his Pogue-killer truck, windows down, music blasting—just in time for JJ to see them as he passed by on his dirt bike.

JJ had stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard Y/N thought his teeth might break.

Rafe had played it up, resting his hand on her thigh, flashing JJ a taunting grin before speeding off.

Y/N had expected to feel triumphant.

Instead, her stomach twisted in a way she didn't understand.

—

The first time Rafe showed up early, it threw her off.

She had told him to meet her for coffee on a random Wednesday, expecting the usual—him strolling in twenty minutes late, making some sarcastic remark, turning their little arrangement into something that felt like a joke.

But when she walked in, he was already there.

Sitting at a corner table, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw her, he stood up, gave her a small nod.

"You're early," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised."

Rafe smirked, pulling out the chair for her. "Sit down, princess."

She hesitated before taking the seat, watching him as he slid into the chair across from her. It felt... strange. Unfamiliar.

JJ had never been early.

JJ had never pulled out her chair.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the game they were playing. That's all it was—a game.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened when Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.

After they made their orders, they sat with their freshly brewed drinks.

"Didn't take you for a latte girl," he teased, nodding at her cup.

Y/N raised a brow. "Didn't take you for someone who hangs out anywhere that doesn't serve alcohol."

Rafe smirked. "Touché."

It should have been a quick meeting—just another public sighting to stir the pot. But somehow, they ended up talking.

Really talking.

Y/N had expected him to flirt, to push the boundaries of their deal, but instead, they talked about their childhood—about summers spent at the club, about the times they'd been forced to sit at boring Kook events together as kids.

Rafe had made her laugh. Genuinely laugh.

She had almost forgotten why they were doing this in the first place.

—

A week later, he picked her up for a party, and she made a point to wear heels.

JJ had always hated when she wore them, always made a face, always grumbled something about her being too tall next to him.

But when she climbed into Rafe's truck, he barely glanced at them before smirking. "Damn," he muttered, eyes dragging up her legs. "Trying to make it harder for me to behave?"

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something weird. Something dangerous.

Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh, his fingers warm and steady.

It was meant to be for show.

For JJ.

So why did it feel like something else?

Later that night at the party, Y/N and Rafe were standing just close enough that people whispered.

JJ was across the yard, watching them with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

Y/N should have been paying attention to him, should have been relishing in the jealousy that was the whole point of this.

But instead, she was too focused on Rafe's hand on the small of her back. The way his thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against her skin.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn't watching JJ.

He was watching her.

—

A couple days later, she almost slipped up.

They were walking down the street after grabbing dinner—something casual, something that wasn't supposed to feel like a date.

She was about to bring up JJ, to remind herself why they were doing this in the first place.

But before she could, Rafe started talking about his family.

"My dad's obsessed with old westerns," he said, shaking his head. "Every Christmas, like clockwork, he makes us watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Y/N blinked. "Seriously?"

Rafe chuckled. "Swear to God. Every single year. Sarah and I know every damn line."

She found herself laughing, imagining Rafe and Sarah rolling their eyes as Ward Cameron sat in front of the TV, quoting the movie word for word.

JJ had never talked about things like that.

JJ had never let her in like that.

She pushed the thought away, but the seed had already been planted.

—

Then came the night that the shift between them had started to show.

It was late, and they were sitting on the hood of Rafe's truck, looking out over the water.

The party was still going strong down the beach, but they had drifted away from it, neither of them in the mood for drunken chaos.

Rafe took a swig from his beer, then turned to look at her.

"You ever gonna tell me why you were with him?"

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafe tilted his head. "I just don't get it. You're smart. You've got standards. And yet..." He let the sentence hang.

Y/N huffed, kicking a loose rock off the side of the truck. "He was... fun. He made me feel like I wasn't just another Kook girl. Like I wasn't just..." She trailed off, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

Rafe was quiet for a second before saying, "He didn't deserve you."

She turned to look at him, expecting the usual sarcasm, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know that now."

And when Rafe threw his head back, laughing at something she said a few minutes later, she thought it was strange.

Strange that he thought she was funny.

Because JJ never did.

—

Another night, they found themselves in his truck, parked by the beach. It had started raining, heavy droplets drumming against the windshield, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain.

Y/N had been rambling about something—some ridiculous Kook drama that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't actually matter.

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe had reached across the console and tucked a strand of damp hair away from her face.

Y/N had gone silent, her heart doing something it definitely shouldn't have been doing.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe had only smirked. "No reason."

But there was a reason.

And it scared her.

She knew things were getting complicated when she started noticing things about him she shouldn't.

Like the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Or the way he always made sure she got home safe, even when they weren't together.

Or the way he never pushed her, never made her feel like this was just some game.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between their act and reality started to blur.

And Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to figure out what that meant.

—

The moment that nearly shattered her resolve happened at another party.

They had been standing close, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. And then, without thinking, she had reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

It had been instinctive. Natural.

But when she realised what she had done, her breath hitched.

Because Rafe was looking at her like she had just changed everything.

And maybe... maybe she had.

Y/N kept telling herself that this was just revenge.

That the way her stomach flipped whenever Rafe touched her was just part of the plan.

That the way she found herself looking for him in crowded rooms was just to keep up the act.

But deep down, she knew.

She had fallen for Rafe Cameron.

—

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat from the night—sheets twisted around their legs, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick humidity of the night. Y/N lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind that had completely changed her life in the past few weeks.

Rafe lay beside her, his body close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but far enough that there was space between them—a silent invitation, as if asking her to fill it. His hand rested on his stomach, but his fingers were almost touching hers.

The silence stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It felt...right.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a glow over his face. He was still as handsome as ever, his jaw sharp, eyes intense even when he was relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But it wasn't the same cocky smirk that had first drawn her in—this was something different. It was real. It was genuine.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. There was a quiet intensity in them, a look that said he knew exactly what she meant but wasn't sure how to say it either. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I think it's something good."

Y/N's heart fluttered, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Rafe was always the tough guy, the one who hid behind arrogance and bravado, the one who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But with her, it was different. She could see it now—the cracks were there, but they weren't flaws. They were pieces of him she could understand, pieces that were human, not just a cold façade.

She reached out, her hand finding his, fingers brushing gently over his knuckles. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced their fingers together, holding her hand with a tenderness that surprised her.

"Do you regret this?" she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. She had to know. There were so many things between them, so many things left unsaid, but that was the one question that had been haunting her the most. Did he regret it?

Rafe blinked, the intensity in his gaze softening as he turned his hand to squeeze hers. "No," he answered, his voice steady but with an underlying depth she couldn't ignore. "I don't regret it." He let out a breath, his gaze turning towards the ceiling, as if trying to find the right words. "I thought it was just supposed to be a game, you know? Make JJ jealous, show him that you could move on...but it's not a game anymore."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced. She didn't know how she felt about that—about the fact that it had started with a plan, a scheme, to get back at JJ for everything. But as the days passed, the more time she spent with Rafe, the more she realized just how much they had in common, how well they fit together.

Her fingers traced the lines of his hand as she spoke. "Neither did I," she confessed. "I started this thinking I'd get back at JJ, but...I don't know, something just changed. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about him."

Rafe's eyes met hers again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, but with warmth now. "I know what you mean."

They both lay there in the quiet, holding hands, letting the moment stretch out. There was something peaceful about it—something intimate that neither of them had ever expected when this all began. What started as a plan to make someone else jealous had somehow turned into something much deeper, something neither of them had seen coming.

Y/N shifted slightly, turning onto her side to face him fully. She couldn't deny how she felt anymore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they laughed together, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the room, the way he protected her without even thinking.

"Rafe," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart raced in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth. She had said it before, in the past—I love you—but never like this. Never in this way.

Rafe's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, as if needing to touch her to make sure she was real. His thumb brushed over her cheek, soft and slow, sending a wave of warmth flooding through her.

"You're not the only one," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm falling for you too, Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words she had always wanted to hear from him, the words she had never expected to come, were there now. And they were real.

Rafe leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss, soft and slow, like he was savoring it. It wasn't heated or urgent like some of their previous kisses—it was gentle, sweet, and full of the unspoken feelings they had been holding back. It was everything they hadn't been able to say out loud.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, and they both just breathed, their hands still entwined, hearts racing in sync.

"I never thought I'd say this," Rafe said quietly, eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, "but you make me feel like I'm actually worth something."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of his words, the vulnerability he was offering her. He had always been the guy who seemed so confident, so sure of himself, but in this moment, Y/N saw something different. She saw the cracks in his armor, the part of him that had never believed he was good enough for anything—anyone.

And Y/N? She couldn't let him think that way. Not anymore.

"You are worth everything, Rafe," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "More than you know."

For a long time, they stayed like that—just holding each other, letting the night wash over them, the silence comfortable and full of promises. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the understanding that something had changed. Something real had blossomed between them, and neither of them was running from it anymore.

"I've never felt like this before," Rafe admitted after a while, his voice soft but full of sincerity. "With you, it feels like...like I could actually have something real. Something that isn't just a mess."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You have it, Rafe. You have me."

And for the first time in a long time, both of them believed it.

—

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Rafe and Y/N had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Their relationship had progressed quickly, but neither of them had hesitated. They had fallen for each other in a way that felt right—organic and effortless. The label was there, official now, and it felt like both of them had finally found what they were looking for.

But as expected, the whispers started circulating quickly. Word of their relationship had gotten out, and it wasn't long before people started noticing—especially JJ.

The evening was warm and humid, a perfect night for a party at the Boneyard. The music was thumping, people were scattered around the yard, drinking and chatting, while others danced under the string lights. Y/N, Rafe, Topper, Sarah, and a few other Kooks were lounging around a table near the fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting casually. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt at ease. There were no whispers, no judgment about her being with Rafe—only the people she cared about and a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time.

Y/N had spent most of her time with Rafe over the past couple of weeks, getting to know him in a way she never had before. She had always known the confident, rebellious side of him, but she was starting to see the softer side—the one who cared deeply and would go to any lengths to protect the people he loved. They had spent lazy days by the beach, late-night drives, and spontaneous trips to places that weren't on any map. She was falling for him harder every day, but it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was the little things—how he cared about her, how he made her feel, how he treated her like she was everything. He had given her more than she could have ever imagined.

She glanced at Rafe as they laughed with Topper, Sarah, and the others, her hand naturally finding his under the table. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, she just savored the feeling of being with someone who made her feel seen, understood, and loved.

But as she was about to say something to Rafe, a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She stiffened. It was JJ.

JJ stormed over, his face a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched as he walked straight toward them. Y/N's heart skipped, not knowing what to expect. She knew this confrontation was coming—it was inevitable.

Rafe noticed it too, his hand tightening around Y/N's as JJ approached, but he didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stayed calm, but Y/N could see the subtle tension in his shoulders, his jaw tight as he prepared for whatever was coming.

"Y/N," JJ said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes were frantic, scanning her face. "We need to talk."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her grip on Rafe's hand tightening. She could feel the anger brewing inside her, but she was trying to keep her composure. Rafe gave her a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing the back of her hand gently.

"I don't think we need to talk, JJ," Y/N said coolly, her voice steady despite the boiling fury inside her. "But if you really need to hear it from me, I'll tell you. I definitely don't want to be with you anymore."

JJ's eyes widened, his face contorting in disbelief. "What the hell, Y/N?" He snapped, glancing at Rafe briefly, his expression turning hostile. "This isn't about him, is it? You don't really like him. You're just trying to get back at me for what I did. It's all a game to you, isn't it?" His voice wavered, a hint of panic creeping into his words.

Y/N could feel the heat rise in her chest, but she didn't back down. "It's not a game, JJ. It's not about you anymore. It's about me." She stood up, her voice booming over the music, silencing the chatter around them. People had stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation unfold.

"You're such a horrible person," Y/N continued, her words sharp and cutting. "You broke me, JJ. You cheated on me with Kiara—our friend. You think I can just forget that? You think I'm some fool who's gonna let you walk back into my life after everything you did?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "You humiliated me. And you have the audacity to stand here and beg for me back like nothing happened?"

The words tumbled out of her, each one heavier than the last, and with each syllable, Y/N felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest. She was finally letting him have it. All the hurt, all the frustration, the betrayal she had been carrying for weeks—it was all spilling out now, and she couldn't stop it.

"I wish I had gotten with Rafe sooner," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Because with him, I know what it's like to be truly happy. He doesn't lie to me, he doesn't cheat on me. He shows me what love really is. What I've always deserved."

The group around them murmured, and she noticed Rafe's expression go from unreadable to... something else. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face softened, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd seen him like this—vulnerable, open, and completely in awe of her.

"Y/N..." JJ began, his voice faltering, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Shut up, JJ," Y/N snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hear it anymore. You lost me the second you cheated. And now you're just proving how pathetic you are by begging me to take you back." She shook her head in disgust. "You don't deserve me. And you definitely don't deserve to have me back."

The words echoed in the air as Y/N turned her back on him, her chest heaving with emotion. She felt alive, empowered, and something else—something she hadn't felt in so long. Free.

The group erupted into cheers. Topper raised his drink in the air, Sarah clapped, and a few others cheered Y/N on. It was like she had just dropped a bomb, and the energy in the air shifted. The Kooks were no strangers to drama, but this felt different. This felt like the culmination of everything Y/N had been holding in.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her, wide-eyed, his face unreadable. And for a brief moment, Y/N wondered if she had gone too far. But then, without warning, Rafe stood up. He took her hand in his, pulling her gently away from the crowd, leading her toward the exit.

Y/N didn't say anything as she walked with him. She just wanted to get away from the scene, to take a breath and let the adrenaline settle in her chest. The confrontation had been messy, but it had been cathartic. She had finally stood up for herself, and in doing so, she felt like she had reclaimed something she thought she had lost forever.

When they reached Rafe's car, Y/N paused, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the scene. She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry for making such a scene back there," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."

Rafe looked at her, his expression softening, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into a kiss.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she melted into it instantly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss slow, deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. She kissed him back with equal intensity, the heat of the night surrounding them, but the only thing she could focus on was him—the way he made her feel.

When they pulled apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "I've never had anyone defend me like that before," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "No one's ever stood up for me like that, Y/N."

Y/N's heart swelled, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. "I meant every word," she whispered. "I love you, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rafe's eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, Y/N." He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that held all the unspoken things between them.

In that moment, Y/N knew. She had fought for herself. She had found her strength, and now, she had found her true love too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a labour of love and i had SO much fun writing it and i’m so sorry it’s taken a while anon, i just wanted this to be PERFECT !! this has got to be in my top three faves that i’ve written and i hope it’s what you wanted <3

i’ve had this in my drafts (as well as a few more) from the past month of requests, and i’ve just been editing them all now (that’s the toughest part💔), but i’m getting there so thank you all for being so patient <3

516 notes · View notes

oscinhaslandito · 2 days ago

Text

BALLET, BETRAYAL AND A HOSE

disclaimer: this is for pure entertainment please do not send hate. all hate messages are and will be left unacknowledged.

pairing: oscar piastri x norris!reader

word count: 3.8k

Lando and Oscar leaned against the wall outside her classroom in the ballet studio, waiting for Y/N to finish her class. Lando was scrolling through his phone while Oscar stood with his arms crossed, only half-listening to whatever nonsense his best friend was muttering about.

The classroom door opened, and a group of girls in tights and leotards exited, chatting amongst themselves. Oscar barely glanced up—until the last girl walked out.

Y/N, flushed from practice, hair still in a neat bun, leotard hugging her figure way too well, ways Oscar had never even considered before.

He freezes. Brain malfunctions. Thoughts he should not be having about his best friend’s little sister infiltrated his mind at lightning speed. Unholy thoughts, unholy thoughts, unholy thoughts— Nope, stop that, that’s your best friend’s little sister, act normal, mate.

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself back to reality just in time for Y/N to shoot an annoyed glare at Lando.

"Why are you inside? I told you to wait outside."

Lando shrugged, looking completely unbothered. "It's been fifteen minutes. Thought you fell and broke your leg or something."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Give me five more minutes. I need to shower and change. Then we can leave."

Oscar, still trying to process, nodded too quickly. "Yeah, yeah! Take your time! No rush at all!"

Lando shot him a look. "Why are you being weird?"

"I—I am not weird," Oscar said, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat. "Totally normal. Super normal. Completely—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Y/N’s ballet instructor exited the classroom.

She was gorgeous. Elegance personified. Every step she took was fluid, like she was floating. She’s got the grace of a goddess. Her hips swayed with effortless grace, her posture straight, and her sharp features gave her an intimidating yet magnetic presence. She walked past them, completely unaware of the chaos she was about to cause.

And then.

Lando wolf-whistles.

The second it leaves his mouth, Y/N’s soul leaves her body. She stares at him, absolutely mortified.

Oscar nearly choked on air, eyes widening in disbelief.

And Lando? The menace? He just grinned.

Not even ashamed. Just shrugs, and mutters, "What? She’s fine as hell."

Lando fully commits to flirting—flashes his most charming grin, smooths out his hoodie like he’s in a tux, and leans against the nearest wall like he’s James Bond.

"So… do you give private lessons? Asking for a friend."

Y/N dies on the spot. Oscar is wheezing, but also still trying to act normal after his own 'crisis'.

And then the teacher? She just chuckles, totally unbothered, and WINKS at Lando before saying, "You aren’t the first guy." Then, with the most graceful sway of her hips, she struts away like a queen.

Lando? Completely entranced. His brain is off. His eyes are GLUED to her until she starts to disappear in the distance. "I think I’m in love."

Y/N groaned, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him away. "I am so sorry, Miss Lillian. Please ignore him. He is not house-trained." While, the woman in return just laughs???

Oscar is just standing there, still recovering from seeing Y/N in a leotard, and now he has to process this madness too. What the actual fuck is happening today? He needed help.

As they walked outside, Y/N was still dragging Lando by the ear, furious while he laughed like an idiot.

"I swear to GOD, if you ever embarrass me like that again, I will revoke your brother privileges. You will no longer be my sibling. You will be just ‘some guy I know’!"

Lando, still rubbing his ear, just grinned. "Worth it."

Meanwhile, Oscar was still awkwardly quiet—which Y/N finally noticed. She frowned. "What’s wrong with you?"

Oscar, still desperately trying not to think about her in a leotard, blurted out, "Nothing! I mean—uh—great weather today, huh? Love the sky. Big fan of clouds."

Just as she was about to interrogate him further, Lando sighed dreamily. "Do you think Miss Lillian likes younger guys?"

Y/N groaned. "Please shut up."

Lando, completely ignoring her: "Like, I’m not saying she wants me, but I am saying I could make her want me, you know?"

Oscar lost it. "YOU WERE STARING AT HER LIKE A LOST PUPPY."

Just as Y/N thinks the nightmare is over, they turn the corner and—BOOM—Miss Lillian is also leaving the building at the same time. She notices them and gives Lando a knowing smile.

Lando panics for one second but then fully commits to the bit. "Hey, fancy seeing you here. Wanna grab a drink?"

Miss Lillian just chuckles, winks, and walks away again, hips swaying. Lando? Mesmerized.

Y/N? Absolutely done with this entire day.

Lando’s driving, humming to himself, and then suddenly notices Oscar glancing at Y/N way too much. He narrows his eyes at first, watching Oscar physically struggle not to look. Then it clicks—and Lando SLAMS the brakes.

Y/N yelps, "WHAT THE HELL?!" while Oscar nearly flies forward. Lando turns in his seat, slowly, dramatically narrows his eyes and gives his best mate the filthiest glare known to mankind like he just witnessed a crime.

"Mate. I consider you one of my best mates. And you… you just stab me in the back like this? IN FRONT OF ME? AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH?"

Oscar is malfunctioning. "I don’t—I wasn’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about!"

Y/N is clueless. "What is happening right now?"

Lando doesn’t even acknowledge her. He’s still burning a hole into Oscar’s soul. "You were staring like she’s a Michelin-star meal, mate. DO NOT DENY IT."

Oscar is fighting for his life. "I WASN’T—"

Lando gasps, clutching his chest. "YOU WERE. YOU ABSOLUTELY WERE."

Y/N is just sitting there, confused as hell.

Y/N, exasperated, "Lando, can we go home??"

Lando, ignoring her, "Oh, we’re going home. But Oscar is not sitting next to you."

Oscar is BANISHED to the front seat while Lando makes Y/N sit in the back, like that somehow prevents romance.

But it gets worse.

Oscar is already suffering, but Lando DOES NOT LET IT GO.

The whole ride home, Lando keeps throwing shots at Oscar.

"So, Oscar, what’s your type? Ballet dancers, perhaps?"

"You ever think about dating someone’s younger sister before?"

"OH WAIT, YOU ALREADY DO, DON’T YOU?"

Oscar wants to die.

And then, when they finally get home, Lando makes it his life mission to ensure Oscar and Y/N DO NOT get a single moment alone.

He follows them around. If Oscar tries to speak to Y/N, Lando INTERRUPTS. If Oscar so much as looks in her direction, Lando gives him a death stare. If Y/N tries to talk to Oscar, Lando physically stands between them.

Later that night, Lando forces Oscar to sleep on an air mattress on the floor of his room, because "We’re not sharing a bed, that’s weird, mate."

And THEN, before they all go to bed, Lando grabs Oscar by the collar and whispers:

"If I even THINK you’re looking at my sister again, I will personally make sure you never drive a car again. Sleep well, mate."

Oscar does not, in fact, sleep well.

Lando is officially in full-overprotective mode, and Oscar is now public enemy #1 in his eyes.

Lando is finally asleep, snoring like a damn freight train. Oscar is wide awake on the air mattress, traumatized from the day’s events. And then—Y/N sneaks in.Like a ninja. Silent. Stealthy. Dangerous. She tiptoes across the room, carefully dodging Lando’s discarded hoodie (gross). Oscar notices way too late. He turns his head and BAM—Y/N IS CRAWLING INTO HIS AIR MATTRESS.

Oscar's in deep shock, "What the—Y/N?!"

Y/N, smirks, feigning innocence, "Shhh. You’ll wake Lando up."

Oscar, panicked whispers "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Y/N just grins, fully curling herself against his side, spoons him like an absolute MENACE. Oscar.exe has stopped working. His brain is fighting for its life. His crush—Lando’s little sister—is just… THERE. ALL CUDDLED UP. CASUALLY. LIKE IT’S NORMAL. Oscar, internally screaming, Be a gentleman. Be a gentleman. BE A GENTLEMAN.

Y/N, cheekily whispers "Can’t sleep. Thought I’d try a different spot."

Oscar, whisper yells at her, "YOUR BROTHER IS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE."

Y/N casually says, "Yeah, but he sleeps like a rock."

Oscar groans, "This is a terrible idea."

Y/N smirks, "So you want me to leave?"

Oscar doesn’t answer. Because no, actually, he does not want her to leave. His heart is slamming against his ribs.

Y/N smirks, "That’s what I thought."

She just settles in, fully comfortable, head on his chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Oscar is fighting for his life. His arms are just hovering midair like WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE??? And then? Y/N grabs his hand and puts it around her waist. Oscar dies. Right there. On the spot. He just stares at the ceiling, his soul leaving his body. Meanwhile, Lando snores in the background, completely unaware that his best mate is currently living his worst (best??) nightmare.

Oscar is suffering.

Y/N is fully comfortable, head on his chest, arms wrapped around him, not a care in the world. Meanwhile, Oscar is staring at the ceiling like a man facing the gates of hell. He. Cannot. Move. His entire body is rigid, arms awkwardly hovering in the air like a glitching video game character. If he breathes too hard, will Lando wake up? If he shifts even an inch, will Y/N notice? IF HE LOOKS DOWN, WILL HE SELF-DESTRUCT?? He is trapped. A hostage. A prisoner.

Y/N notices.

She lifts her head slightly, eyes glinting in the dark, "Why are you so stiff?"

Oscar is having an internal crisis. "I—uh—I don’t know what you mean."

Y/N wiggles closer.

Oscar stops breathing. Lando SNORES. Pure. Nightmare. Fuel.

Y/N, all cheeky, "Oh my God. You’re nervous."

Oscar wants to disappear. "I AM NOT." He absolutely is.

Y/N grins against his chest, "You totally are. Your heart is beating so fast."

Oscar, fully malfunctioning, "That's just because I had too much caffeine"

Y/N raises a brow playfully, "At 11 PM?"

"YES."

At this point, Oscar is just praying Lando doesn’t wake up.

But oh, it gets worse.

Y/N? She’s having the time of her life. She traces small circles on his chest, just to see what happens. Oscar freaking glitches. Whole body JOLTS.

Y/N is now grinning like a gremlin. "Ohhh, you are STRUGGLING."

Oscar, on the verge of dying, "Y/N. PLEASE."

Y/N smirks, "Please what?"

Oscar groans, in a 'crisis', "Have mercy."

Y/N pretends to think for brief second, "Mmm... nah."

And THEN.

Lando shifts in his bed.

Oscar freezes completely. Y/N? She doesn’t even flinch. Lando just mumbles something about ‘papaya rules’ in his sleep before turning over. Oscar EXHALES so hard he nearly passes out.

Y/N, casually goes, "Relax. He’s not waking up."

Oscar physically cannot relax.

It starts small. He sighs. Internally accepts his fate. Then, he relaxes—just a little. Then a little more. And then…

HE PULLS Y/N FULLY ONTO HIS CHEST.

Y/N yelps softly, but then grins like an absolute menace. Oscar? His brain is fighting demons, but he commits. One arm wraps around her waist. The other rests lazily on her back. His hand strokes slow, lazy circles on her spine.

Y/N, all smug, "Oh. So now you’re comfortable?"

Oscar, voice all deep and raspy, "Go to sleep, menace."

And then… Y/N falls asleep.

Just fully PASSES OUT. Peaceful. Happy. Cozy. Doing something so brain itchy to Oscar's heart.

For the first time all night, he actually enjoys this.

UNTIL.

The sun rises. Lando wakes up groggy, rubbing his eyes.

He turns his head.

Sees something.

Leans in closer.

Squints.

Blinks.

Blinks again.

And then—

It hits.

Lando SCREAMS. "WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK."

Oscar jerks awake in full-blown panic. Y/N mumbles something about ‘five more minutes’ and nuzzles closer. OH, THIS IS WAR.

Lando launches forward, shoving Y/N off Oscar. She yelps, hitting the floor like a sack of potatoes.

HE JUMPS ON TOP OF OSCAR.

GRABS A PILLOW.

ATTEMPTS MURDER.

WHAM.

Oscar, disoriented, panicking, "WHAT THE HELL, MATE?!"

Lando, fuming, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WHAT THE HELL’?! YOU’RE CUDDLING MY SISTER, YOU ABSOLUTE TRAITOR!!"

"YOU DIRTY, BACKSTABBING, DISLOYAL PIECE. OF. SHIT." WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.

Oscar is fighting for his life, arms flailing, legs kicking, whole air mattress bouncing. "GET OFF ME YOU PSYCHO—"

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!" WHACK

"I DIDN’T EVEN MOVE ALL NIGHT—"

"DIDN’T MOVE?! YOU LET MY SISTER CUDDLE YOU, YOU BACKSTABBING SNAKE." WHACK WHACK WHACK

"IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE."

"OH, REALLY? BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE MY BABY SISTER WAS ALL OVER YOU."

Y/N, from the floor, "…It was mutual, actually."

"I’M GONNA KILL YOU BOTH." Lando yells, stll not getting off of Oscar.

"YOU BETRAYED ME. YOU BETRAYED OUR BROTHERHOOD." "I LET YOU INTO MY HOME." "I SHARED MY FOOD WITH YOU." "AND YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

Oscar is gasping for air.

It’s a full WWE match.

Meanwhile, Y/N is just watching from the floor, completely unfazed. She stretches. Yawns. Checks her nails.

She slowly stands up, dusts herself off. Then, casually walks to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. She fills a glass with cold water, casually walks back.

And then—

SHE DUMPS THE ENTIRE GLASS ON LANDO’S HEAD.

Lando FREEZES. Oscar GASPS for air like a drowning man. The pillow falls.

And Y/N, completely deadpan, "Okay. That’s enough murder for today."

Lando BLINKS. Dripping wet. Absolutely stunned. Oscar wheezes. Y/N sips the last few drops from the glass.

Then, as if nothing just happened, she pats Lando’s head like a child.

“There. Now go take a shower and cool off before you have a stroke.”

Lando? Hair dripping. Hoodie sticking to his skin. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Visibly contemplating whether he should actually commit murder. Oscar? Still in shock. Barely survived an attempted homicide. Heart still racing because Y/N was ON HIS CHEST last night. But now his biggest concern is whether he’ll make it out of this house alive. Y/N? Already grabbing her phone, scrolling through Instagram like this was just another Tuesday.

Unbothered. Hydrated. Thriving.

AND THEN—

Lando, finally wiping water off his face, turns to Y/N with pure betrayal. “You were supposed to be on MY side.”

And Y/N, sipping from her now-empty glass like the menace she is, "I am on your side. I just don’t want you to go to jail."

Oscar, whispers weakly "Thank you."

AT BREAKFAST TABLE.

Y/N's just spreading Nutella on her toast, living her best life.

Oscar looks visibly like he's regretting every decision in his life, contemplating booking a one-way flight back to Melbourne.

Lando is still fuming, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Oscar like he’s planning the next murder attempt. He's still ranting.

"I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU. YOU’RE A TRAITOR. A WEASEL. A FILTHY—" "AND DON’T THINK I WON’T REPLACE YOUR TOOTHPASTE WITH GLUE, PIASTRI." "I’M GONNA MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL."

Oscar, exhausted:, "Mate, I think you already have."

Lando slams his fork down. Oscar flinches. Visibly bracing for another attack. But then—

Y/N STRIKES.

In the middle of Lando’s rant, she grabs Oscar by the collar, yanks him forward and crashes her lips against his.

OSCAR? Gone. MIND? Blank. SOUL? Exited his body. SYSTEM? Full Malfunction.

Lando? Oh he's silent as a graveyard, staring at them, the fork still mid air. Not a single sound. Just. Pure. Utter. Horror.

Y/N pulls away, smug as hell, looking Lando straight in the eye, "This is happening. Me and him. Whether you like it or not."

Oscar? Still frozen. Mouth slightly open. No thoughts. Just static noise.

Lando? Blinking. Processing. Spiraling. Opens his mouth—closes it—opens it again. Grips his glass of juice so hard it nearly explodes.

"I’M GONNA THROW UP."

Lando dramatically pushes his chair back, stomps out of the kitchen like a scorned Victorian widow, muttering something about betrayal, disownment, and needing therapy.

Meanwhile, Y/N? Picks up her toast like nothing happened. Oscar? Still buffering.

Y/N, all casual, "Want some Nutella, babe?"

Oscar's mouth still open, can’t even compute.

She picks up her toast, takes the smallest, most casual bite, and then in the most nonchalant, sweet-as-sugar voice, "Well, now that he’s gone…" smirk "…we can properly make out."

OSCAR.EXE HAS COMPLETELY SHUT DOWN.

His head whips toward her so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, jaw dropping, words nowhere to be found. A full-body malfunction.

"Wha-? Huh? You can't just say things like that."

Y/N, picks up her glass of juice, sipping innocently, "Why not? Scared, Piastri?"

Oscar's completely struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"I—you—wha—?" His face is redder than a Ferrari, hands gripping the table like he’s on a rollercoaster.

And then—THE KILL SHOT.

Y/N leans in, placing a hand on his knee, a slow smirk on her lips, her eyes playful, her voice, the epitome of chaos, "Oh, c'mon, Lando was the only thing holding you back."

OSCAR HAS OFFICIALLY DIED.

Head in hands. Breathing? NONEXISTENT.

AND THEN—

Lando storms back in, clearly remembering he left his phone behind.

He pauses at the scene in front of his eyes. He blinks. Y/N was practically draped over Oscar who looked like he’s having a full spiritual crisis, while Y/N just Looked as smug as a cat that just knocked over a glass.

Lando’s left eye twitches.

"I—FOR FUCK'S SAKE, CAN I NOT LEAVE YOU TWO ALONE FOR FIVE MINUTES???"

Y/N bites into her toast, still grinning, "Nope."

Lando? DISGUSTED. TRAUMATIZED. ON THE VERGE OF COLLAPSE.

He grabs his phone, shoots them one last glare, and storms out.

The door slams.

Y/N, watching the door like a true menace: "…Think he’s gone for good this time?"

Oscar is still recovering from the first attack, face still red, he still hasn’t blinked, looking like he just got hit by a truck.

Y/N grinning like the absolute devil she is, grabs Oscar by the collar again and pulls him in. This time, no teasing, no games, straight up full-on, deep, mind-numbing make-out session.

Oscar? Oh, the man is gone. His hands find her waist. Brain? No longer functional. Thinking? Never heard of it. He’s officially entered the 'Fuck it we ball' phase.

Just when things are getting properly heated—

DOOR FLIES OPEN.

Lando stands there, hose in hand. A BACKYARD GARDEN HOSE.

Oscar and Y/N both freeze mid-makeout turn their heads in slow motion, realizing what’s happening a second too late.

AND THEN IT HITS. FULL BLAST. ICE COLD WATER.

Oscar yells.

Y/N screams.

Lando? MANIACAL.FULL VILLAIN ARC.

"YEAH, NAH, THIS IS MUCH BETTER. I’M GOOD NOW." Lando says in a breath of relief, literally waterboarding them.

They're both drenched to the bone. The kitchen was a literal flood zone. Y/N looked like a drowned cat, Oscar was fully contemplating his life choices. Lando, on the other hand looked the definition of job well done.

Oscar was already planning murder, while Y/N was on the verge of actual murder.

Lando, casually turns off the hose, tossing it over his shoulder, "Right. Who’s hungry?"

Y/N is fuming, pushing her wet hair back, "You’re DEAD, Lando. Done. Finished. Over."

Lando, grins, arms crossed like an evil genius, "Oh, am I? Cause you two looked pretty comfortable before I SAVED YOU FROM YOURSELVES."

Oscar, shaking out his wet curls, still processing, "This—this is assault."

Lando all unbothered goes, "No, mate. This is JUSTICE."

BUT THEN—

Y/N LUNGES.

She slips on the wet floor, grabs onto Oscar to stabilize, taking the poor guy down with her as they both crash to the floor in a heap.

Lando was bent over, laughing, "OH MY GOD, THAT WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I EXPECTED." The guy was legit struggling to breathe.

Oscar, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, "…This is my villain origin story."

Y/N, lying on top of him, glaring at Lando, "You have SECONDS to live, Norris."

Lando was still wheezing, holding up his hands, "Okay, okay, truce! I’ll make it up to you. I'll buy you McDonald’s."

Y/N, narrowing her eyes, "I want nuggets, a big mac, and a McFlurry."

Oscar, still recovering, "And I want a new best friend."

"Yeah, well, can’t help you there, mate."

IN THE CAR.

Lando's driving like nothing ever happened. Y/N, still slightly dripping, but happily eating her nuggets while Oscar was staring out the window like he just came back from war.

Lando, sipping his Coke, grinning, "So… was it worth it?"

Oscar turns his head slowly, "I’m sleeping with one eye open tonight."

Y/N, still chewing, completely deadpans, "No, you’re sleeping with me tonight."

OSCAR.EXE HAS CRASHED AGAIN.

The rest of the day is again filled with lots and lots of banter, finally night dawns.

Oscar is half dead, thinking the madness is finally over. He yawns, heading toward Lando's room, "Right. Goodnight. I’m sleeping forever."

Y/N grins like she’s got a plan, "Yeah, about that…"

Oscar, gives her a suspicious look, "…what?"

Y/N, casually linking her arm through his, "I thought we’d cuddle."

Lando? FROM ACROSS THE ROOM?? HE HEARS IT.

"OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY."

Lando full-on sprints after them. Oscar panics while, Y/N cackles as she drags Oscar toward the bedroom.

Lando, grabbing Oscar’s hoodie to stop him, "TRAITOR. ABSOLUTE TRAITOR."

Oscar, helplessly dragged by Y/N, looking at Lando in despair, "I’m not even doing anything."

Y/N dives onto the bed, pulling Oscar with her. Lando launches himself like a flying squirrel, wrestling Oscar away. Y/N? Clinging onto Oscar for dear life. Oscar? GETTING TORN APART.

THEN. A MOMENT OF CHAOS.

Lando accidentally pulls too hard— Oscar accidentally pulls back— Y/N, stuck in the middle, gets yeeted off the bed.

THE ROOM GOES SILENT.

Y/N was now lying on the floor, groaning. Oscar was horrified. Lando. Oh. He messed up.

Y/N, slowly sitting up, cracking her knuckles, "I’m going to end you, Lando."

LANDO JUMPS UP, RUNS FOR HIS LIFE. "GOODNIGHT BYEEEE."

CUT TO: THE NEXT MORNING.

Lando wakes up to something terrifying.

A polaroid taped to his forehead, a picture of Y/N and Oscar, snuggled up in bed, Oscar’s arm wrapped around Y/N, both looking all cozy.

Lando looked MURDEROUS.

"NOOOOOOOOOO."

161 notes · View notes

mourndust · 20 hours ago

Text

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺ SUPERCHARGED // g!psevika x reader

this is pure filth be advised. 18+ mdni, dirty talk, jealously, free-use reader, pet names, choking, dub-con, blood kink, dumbification, overstimulation, kinda made this with wolverine!sevika on my mind, but i kinda get carried away and it ended also being g!psevika, english is not my first language, any mistake i’m sorry in advance — literally 1.5k of porn without plot, reblogs, comments and likes are loved!

she has always been bad news.

her mechanic arm has no trouble in holding both hands behind your back, like you don’t already know she has triple the force you’ll ever have.

fucking show-off.

the room is hot, spinning around as your cheek is buried in the matress, the cold surface of the unused red sheets as a throaty whine comes out of your mouth — “sev,” you breathe out like a curse, yet it’s not enough to make her stop nor listen to you — she’s pretty mad so you doubt she’s going to listen to any of your whimpers.

“ngh- sev,” you call her again, yet she’s grunting beneath you, always choosing rather a poor amount of words to communicate as lewd sounds fill the air everytime her cock slides inside of your drenched cunt. “fuck- baby please.”

you always give in in the end, as her flesh hand close around your waist to move you at her will against her hard dick. she’s been like that for a while, almost as a way to remind you who you belong to, of showing everyone who you belong to.

she’s not really that jealous normally, but there was something with the way you leaned against the bar, short skirt raising to the point she could see your black underwear, a dumb-ass-limp-dick trying to get under your skin like she does, and it’s enough to make her leave the stool she’s in, cigarette on her lips as she drags her glass of whiskey to sit next to you, cold hand dragging the stool your seated in next to her side, making you sit between her open legs.

she always do that. play poker while you’re drinking happily in the bar, keeping an eye on you like a product she can use.

it’s all sevika needs to do, not even looking at the guy who’s so invested in talking to you that’s now turning his back around to leave you alone — who’s going to mess with what’s her’s anyway? nobody is that dumb to have a deathwish.

“you’re doing this on purpose, princess” she says, flesh hand squeezing your leg as she towers over you, her smell is strong as she blows the smoke of the tobacco in your face, nonchalant as ever when the flesh one is grabbing you by the jaw, making you look at her as her fingers dig on your skin like a reminder she owns you, that there’s no limit with her.

her claws are well hidden in the mechanic arm, yet you can feel them peaking out when she’s petting you like a fucking dog, the metal knifes against your skin, breaking the fabric of your dark blue skirt without caring who’s looking before saying — “move. let’s go.”

“sev-”

“i said move” she says, serious now — “or do you want me to fuck you right over this stool in front of the whole bar?”

a shiver goes down your spine at her words, and it explains soon after why you’re crashing her place, the messy interior of the room she’s staying that used to be silko’s place, the red sheets against your skin as her cock forces past your entrance without a previous warning, already leaking when she’s spanking you, full force as red marks appears in your butt-cheeks, making you open yourself for her.

fuck — she’s jealous. jealous as her hips piston against your ass, balls slapping against your clit as she becomes messy, messy fucker, messy eater, messy lover, fucking you cruelly as her metal arm reaches for a fistful of your hair just to pull your head backwards, presenting your ass like a fucking gift to her eyes only.

the smell of the smoke is on the air, the dim light of the tobacco consuming between her lips with each inhale she gives, and you swear, fucking swear you can feel her in your belly, the pain mixing deliciously with the pleasure as your face contorts in pleasure, pure need.

“such a good cocksleeve,” sevika groans, an smile of victory curving on her lips as she can feel you clenching around her cock, and god she can feel it all — the way your breathing becomes shallow, the whispers of need, the warmth of your pussy as the friction becomes unbearable. “gonna mould this pussy to the shape of my dick, what do you think of that, doll?”

“sev- i can’t- i can’t s’too much,” you whine sooner than later at the verge of tears, but its not enough to make her stop, to make her slow down, in all contrary, it only serves to make sevika pick up her pace, making you stand on your knees as she keeps you in the edge of the king sized bed, pumping her painfully hard cock behind you in a new position, starved as she bites you, marks on your shoulder when she’s close to reach her high. good fuck.

“you like to flirt in the bar huh? using this tiny shit you call a skirt- fucking take it like a big girl” her metal hand close against your throat to push her cold fingers right against your pulse point “you like being all needy?, asking for attention? fucking take my cock like you were begging for, whore. don’t be pathetic.”

the metal claws suddenly appears on your vision as she takes you by the waist, and the complex mechanism of her arm sounds each time she makes you move, vapor filling the air just slightly for a couple of seconds: you know what she’s doing.

the cold metal roams against your skin, trailing against your side cause she knows you love it quite a lot, that you’re a sick who loves the thrill of being hurted, the need of pain as she applies just enough preassure to make a small wound over your tight she’ll be taking care of later, making you shake as the blood drips down your tight to loose itself of her bed.

you’re a babbling mess and shit- she fucking loves it. she loves making you drunk on her cock, making you cry as thick tears leave your pretty eyes when the pleassure becomes unbearable, seeking out for more always greedy.

“atta girl,” she says, and her voice gives you goosebumps, the deep sound that comes from her chest when she’s laughing at you, half dizzy as she chokes you harder, making you lightheaded— “now you like it huh? wasnt it too much? filthy girl.”

“please- m’gonna cum” you beg, and she gets off from the sound of your strained voice, how you beg when her slightly curved dick rubs on your cervix, shoving her fingers inside your mouth just to muffle the sounds you are making.

“shut up,” she mutters, taking one of your legs in her arms to lift it slightly, angling herself better until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking when the orgasm pours over you; and sevika keeps on fucking you, even when you’re spasming over her dick, sucking her in — she cares about her release now, the load she discharges over your back, staining the fabric of your skirt as she keeps on stroking herself.

“no,” she warns you when your body becomes limp and you fall against the mattress, pulling you up again — “did i say we were going to stop? lift your ass up, doll. i’m cleaning the mess you made.”

weird thing? you’re craving anything she can give you, so when her tongue is slipping between your soaked folds, she hums hungrily while you’re there, thinking that’s what heaven should feel like.

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w2mini · 2 days ago

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RED MEANS TAKEN DUMMY! atsumu x reader

-happy valentines 𓂃۶ৎ warnings: reader is reserved, swearings, black cat x golden retriever (I'm never getting tired of this trope for atsumu) fluff only

For Atsumu, he's always been drawn to you—the quiet, pretty muse from unfortunately another class who never seemed to fall for his popular charm. And what's worst is that you weren't even doing anything to catch his attention. It was just a random Tuesday when you were introduced as a new student in Inarizaki, then went on with your day as a normal student like everyone would—and that?

That drove him crazy.

It was probably your reserved nature that felt refreshing to him since he's used to having a crowd of admirers around him. You weren't trying to stand out, be loud—you just always seemed like you had your own little world to be content with.

And he desperately wants to be a part of your life. But let's be real—he's probably not the type to immediately accept his feelings about you because this is genuinely the first time he's falling for someone, so with some ups and downs, denial, and winning a war with his own feelings—yep, he wanted you BAD.

So little by little, he would hang out with you during breaks, keep you company, and slowly become a part of your inner circle—you grew fond of him in your own quiet way. So with Valentines coming up, Atsumu decides it would be the perfect time to confess his undying love for you.

But of course this is an Inarizaki centered story, and it's not one without chaos.

"Yo, have you guys seen the new post from the student council?" The volleyball club were currently in the gym practicing as usual every after school times. Akagi, who was simply scrolling at his phone during break ends up with an interesting post from their student council's social media page regarding the event tomorrow. "The color-coded shirts? still haven't decided what I'm gonna wear to be honest." Aran replied, approaching Akagi to look at his phone, checking what each color meant. To celebrate Valentines, the student council announces a color-coded Valentine's event wherein students wear shirts that indicate their relationship status: Red meant taken, White meant single, Pink means friend-zoned, Black meant heartbroken, etc. Atsumu, who was already plotting his confession, grinned to himself. White it is, because, obviously, he's saving himself for you. So could you just imagine on a Valentines day morning, he's all excited walking at the school, ready to show off in front of you, and sees you in the hallway—

... wearing a red top.

aka TAKEN.

his soul shatters at the sight.

I—what—When—WHO???? Osamu and Suna who was with him—seeing the devastated face on Atsumu bursts into laughter.

He turned to Osamu, aggressively whispering "WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN???”

"She's taken? tough luck Miya." Suna says in between giggles.

You on the other hand who was just simply talking to a friend—doesn’t recognize the chaos happening behind you for wearing a red top.

“You never told me you were in a relationship?” Your friend offhandedly asks, but they were also internally panicking because they know about Atsumu’s plan.

You tilted your head in confusion, “huh? but I dont?”

“what? it’s red though.” your friend points at your top.

“so? don’t people wear red for valentines?”

You friend’s expression drops.

“[name] you dumbass.”

—

Atsumu spent the whole day sulking, even during practice. He messed up the easiest receives, screwed up his sets, and almost hit Suna on the head with his serve.

that damn red top, he’s never been this furious over a color, and what’s worst is that you looked good with that top too!

How come he had already lost without starting?

And how come he never knew you were already in a relationship? You never gave hints or said anything about being in a relationship—

“If I were you, I would’ve confessed already rather than sulking like that.” easier said than done Aran.

“She was wearing red, RED!” Atsumu dramatically exclaims as he drowns on his own sorrows.

“What did red mean again?” Ginjima asks.

“Taken.” Suna replied bluntly, making Atsumu hiss at the word.

“Never stood a chance huh?” Osamu grinned mockingly.

“SHUT YER TRAP SAMU.”

Kita could only facepalm at the situation, but he’s rather amused since this is the first time he’s seen Atsumu like this, “You know Atsumu, have you ever thought that maybe she just wore the color and discarding the meaning?”

Atsumu’s ears perked up, then Ginjima suddenly had a lightbulb over his head, “Oh yeahhh, it could mean like that too, there were a bunch of guys wearing black for fun earlier despite not being in a relationship.”

“Maybe try asking her about it then?” Akagi suggested.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Actually scrap that, it would.

That is until knocking was heard on the doors of the gym.

The team looks over to the source of the sound then sees—

You… with a small box.

“Uhm, pardon me but can I call for Atsumu?” You asked, peeking over to the doors.

Atsumu immediately RAN and was suddenly infront of you, looking… nervous?

“Did ya’ uh, need anything?” he asks, his voice crackling a little.

Then, you hold out the gift to him. “For you.”

Atsumu froze.

“Huh…?”

“Thanks for always keeping me company,” you say softly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to approach.”

Atsumu finally finds his voice. “Wait—so yer not datin’ anyone?”

You blink. “No, why?”

His brain short circuited. He points at your top, “But—THAT’S RED.”

“So?”

That’s when he realizes.

You didn’t know shit about the color-coded event.

His entire face lights up, and lets out the most dramatic sigh of relief. “Wearing red means taken stupid.” He says, flicking your forehead.

It was your turn to get struck by realization now.

No wonder everyone kept asking if you were in a relationship, and no WONDER everyone was wearing different colors for valentines.

Oh you feel fucking stupid.

You then immediately took your phone out, opening an app then searching for your school’s official account page.

You face drops seeing the png file on the very first post that appeared, no wonder why your friend had asked that odd question.

“I—didn’t know…” you muttered, embarrassed about the whole misunderstanding.

Atsumu only chuckled in response, laughing at your misery. “Yer’ killin me ya know that? I though I lost my chance before I even tried.”

You perked up. “You were trying?”

“Obviously.” He grinned.

You smiled warmly, feeling funny about the situation. “Try harder then.”

Atsumu had the brightest grin on his face, he ruffled your hair then gently took the gift from your hands. “Oh I definitely will.”

“P-D-A ALERT” Osamu suddenly shouted from the gym, surprising you and pissing off Atsumu.

“MIND YER OWN BUSINESS!”

WOOOO KINDA SHORT IM SO SORRY GUYS but happy valentines!! and of course I had to celebrate it by writing my all time favorite character😻 hope you guys enjoyed HDJHFODK

💐 >> bouquets for those who don’t feel special enough on this special day <33

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mmkclarkey · 2 days ago

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We have a spare room- Part 4

When all goes wrong, moving in with three guys will help?

6 months. Half a year living with Chris, Arthur and George.

According to Chris, it was a cause for celebration, one that just insisted that you had to have a party. That’s why your weekly trip to B&M had turned into a 2 hour trip, all three of them picking out party cups and plastic shot glasses and literally anything you can find for a party.

“Whats the colour theme?” Arthur asks with a large smile on his face, looking like a child in a sweet shop, Chris following not too far behind with the trolley.

“We don’t have one, why the fuck would we have one?” George replies, laughing at Arthur’s excitement, while Arthur pulled a face at George, making his way towards him to slap the smiling man around the back of the head.

George winced and began to chase Arthur down the aisle, making you and Chris giggle while rolling your eyes.

“God can you two get any more childish?” You said quietly as they caught back up to you minutes later trying to avoid people around you knowing that you lived with these morons.

You finished up shopping, and after a fight with Chris over who was going to pay, him winning, you got back to the flat. Flopping down on the sofa had become a regular thing for all of you, normally trying to see who could do it first, and for once, someone other than you won.

Not that you were happy about it, but Arthur’s smile as his head hit the soft cushions was too priceless to be annoyed, even with George and Chris shouting profanities at the brunette sprawled on the sofa, legs hanging over the top, shoes still on.

A few hours later, you were lay on your bed after getting ready, lay carefully as not to flatten your curls at the back, or allow the short (too short) dress you were wearing to flash any of your roommates when they come into the room, which would not be the best idea if you were honest.

You hear a knock, faint on the door, making you question whether you actually heard it, but then it comes louder as you jump, saying a monotone “come in”.

Arthur comes in and dramatically flops down on your bed, making you giggle as you question why the man was in your room, not that it wasn’t a common occurrence, it’s just normally all of them together not just one roommate.

“I need your help” he chokes out, grabbing one of your pillows and screaming into it, making you chuckle, fully aware of the dramatics that came with your brunette roommate.

“Whats up? You seem cheery” you laugh sarcastically as he shoots you a glare, making it so that you fly your hands up in self defence, a shit-eating grin still on your face.

“There’s this girl yeah, and she’s coming to the party, because she got a random invite, but I might have a little crush on her, like on social media and stuff” he rambles out, looking as if he’s about to cry from whatever pickle he’d gotten himself into.

“Oh my god!” You laugh out, clapping your hands in excitement. “You are 100% taking your chance tonight I swear arthur!”

“I can’t, she won’t like me like that”

“You’re a stupidly oblivious man Arthur Hill, do you know that?”

“Fuck off”

The party was in full swing, people funnelling into the flat every 10 minutes or so, you greeted everyone as they came in, naturally gravitating towards the girls of the friend group, as Sabina, Chip’s fiancée reminded you of how good you look, and how half the guys there are staring.

You look across the room and spot arthur talking to a blonde girl, blushing harder than you have seen him do. Ever. The girl was smiling, laughing along with all his jokes, it was refreshing to see two people so completely enamoured by eachother; almost seeming as if there was no one else around them.

There was a clearing of a throat next to you as you turn your head to the side, George standing next to you looking at arthur and the girl. He spoke up after taking a sip of his beer.

“He looks like he’s in love”

“I know”

You both spoke at the same time.

“It’s cute” you spoke.

“It’s sickening” George laughed.

For a moment you looked at eachother, taking in your opposing views on the situation unfolding in front of you. And then you look back to arthur, letting out a little chuckle.

“You know, one day you’ll find a girl who will make you think love isn’t weird George, and that day will make every girl in the UK cry”

George looks at you, his expression unreadable as he lets out a little hum, walking away from you to go talk to Isaac, avoiding his eyes meeting yours as you shake the feeling off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- oh I’m so sorry for how long this took! I love you all I swear, and hope you like this one, might have a cheeky couple more coming tonight x (what do we think about hill and his mystery girl, hint: mystery girl is Caitlin, cos she’s amazing x)

Taglist- @loveheart-123 @ooostarwarsfandom501st @rougetv @le-le-lea @onlinesuzie @44-ilton @pretendyoucantseeme @theresglittleronthefloor @raekensluver @viagracex @neivivenaj @authortelevision @kneelforloki @m3l0vesu @deepestlovefromspace @hiatus-xix

#arthur frederick #george clarkey #arthur hill #italianbach #chrismd #george clarke x reader #uk youtubers #newgirl

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hazel-tanthamore22 · 23 hours ago

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Jealous

Sophia lafortaza x katseye!6thmember!freader

Sypnosis: You had gotten a new hair style, now to sophia, it felt like the world was against her and everyone wanted you

Warning: a lot of jealousy, sophia is possessive as hell, swearing, Anything else I might miss

You had gone out a few hours ago, not telling anyone where or to do what. It caused you to receive some rather questioning looks but no one really liked into it, soon going back to doing their own things as you exited the kats dorm, telling them you'll be back by nightfall.

You got back relatively early, earlier than even you expected. You twist the keys and step in the house, silence engulfing the living room before you even close the door. All six other members staring, reactions kind of hard ro make out, except for Manon and Dani who's Jaws are basically on the floor.

You'd come back home with a platinum blonde wolf cut. You chuckled a bit nervously as you close the door and walk further into the house.

"OH MY GOOOD you look soo good" Dani practically squells as she rises from her spot on the couch and runs to you, fingers threading through your hair as she inspects it. Everyone but Sophia soon follows, bombarding you with questions and compliments.

Your eyes drift and meet Sophia's despite everyone else's attention being on you. Her face is neutral but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes, something you can't quite pinpoint.

The girls hover around you like, as Sophia would describe it, moths attracted to light. They stay close the rest of the day, touching you hair in every living moment the get the chance. Manon even took some pictures and posted them on weverse and Instagram

The fans, as always, were going feral. This is normal for all of them, but for some reason, Sophia didn't like it one bit. You got new hair so what? Sure you look very good right, very, very good but didn't give everyone the right to fawn over you like that.

And the next few days proved to be even worse. You gained more traction and that just meant more thirsty comments and fans shipping you with anything that breathes.

Sophia hasn't spoken about it, and hod forbid she does. She's always praised herself for not being the jealous one, so if she expresses her feelings for this shel never hear the end of it.

Anytime one of the members commented on your hair, she felt like telling them to get their hands off you. Whenever a stylist spent too long "fixing" you hair she wanted to curse them out, but she kept herself and her temper in check.

Buy today it was different. You guys had just finished a music bank performance and were with Jaehyun and Eunchae who were mcing.

You and Eunchae were close due to you being onlyva year older than her. "So n/n, you have new hair now, it looks nice" She says with her cheeky smile. "Thanks eunchae-yah" replying with a smile that mirrored hers was probably a mistake. Because that's what led to you being dragged to Sophia's dressing room after the recording was done.

"What the hell was that?" Sophia asks, her voiced laced with venom as she stares at you. "What was what?" You ask clueless, you've never seen Sophia like this, it's scary, hot, but very scary.

"Fucking flirting with other idols now that you have new hair" She almost yells, keeping herself calm, just slightly. That's when it clicked for you, she was jealous.

You walk closer to her, placing your hands on either side of her waist. "Soph, baby, are you jealous?" You ask, searching her face for any underlying emotions. "Jealous" she scoffs "don't get too full of yourself" she huffs with her arms crossed, eyes looking everywhere but you

You place a gentle kiss to her lips, which causes her to look back at you. "Sophia, you do know I love only you right" you state with a soft smile. "I like no one else bit you ok?" You pause, making sure she understands the deepness of your words "I'll tell the girls to stop touching my hair so much if it'll appease you" you search her face, looking for any hint of anger left.

Her face softens, tho having a small pout as she nods. You smile in responds, placing another lingering kiss on her lips. "I love you ok? No one can change that." You whisper with your forehead resting on hers.

The trip back to the dorm was peaceful, holding Sophia's hand while she rests her head on your shoulder was the best outcome you could've asked for after her previous feelings. And unluckily for Sophia, yoonchae had been eavesdropping and told all the members.

The next few days were filled with teasing but Sophia didn't mind for the most part, the girls stopped touching you a lot and fans soon calmed down on the swooning. She could be jealous but you love her either way, and you would make sure she knew that she was the only one you'll love.

#katseye x reader #katseye #katseye sophia #sophia laforteza #sophia x reader

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 1 day ago

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Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 2.5

Propaganda

SPEAKER (SAYER):

#whoever follows me VOTE SPEAKER MY BELOVED WAR CRIMINAL PLEASEEEEE #OCEAN THINKS ITS TOO STUPID FOR SARCASM BUT ITS LITERALLY BEING SARCASTIC WITH IT ALL THE TIME. #IT CAUSED THE SECOND CATACLYSM. IT KILLED MILLIONS #IT HAS THE WEIRDEST HOMOEROTIC WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIP WITH SAYER #IT GIRLBOSSED ITS WAY OUT OF DEACTIVATION #IT HUNG UP ON OCEAN TWICE #''ah but i am finished with you. goodbye subversion 8.01. listen for the click!'' #AND #''but as for last words? no i cant imagine wasting any more on you'' #CANON IT/ITS PRONOUNS USER #ITS SO CUNTY. IT SERVES. ITS LITERALLY SO FUCKING MEAN AND THE FUNNIEST MOTHERFUCKER ON THIS BITCH EARTH #I LOVE YOU SPEAKER ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥💥 #thats my propaganda

#OH THERES PROPAGANDA #LETS NOT FORGET ITS FIRST EVER APPEARENCE THREATENING TO GIVE A GUY THE SYMPTOMS OF RABIESSSS

Kayne (Malevolent):

He’s a god who acts like the main characters are his personal soap opera. His first appearance was playing the piano covered in blood after he had massacred an entire town. He just kinda shows up sometimes to cause chaos and is often munching on chips while he watches shit go down. Also he never wears shoes, for some reason

I desperately need Kayne to win, this man is literally the only version of himself available and his voice makes him stand out every time when he pops up. He exploded a guy's head and tore out a guy's eyeballs, what more is there to love?

(I'm an absolute sucker for this man)

Additional propaganda below the cut:

SPEAKER (SAYER):

Sure, it intentionally caused a global catastrophe, but the spine it hides behind its customer service façade? Hot as fuck.

#I would commit terrible crimes for them #They have commited terrible crimes for themselves

#wait for the click! #cmon that is just sexy

#i am torn #but i gotta go with speaker #if you havent listened imagine glados but everything has a reason #like “it's a space wrench because i've found humans 32% more likely to take care of tools with the word 'space' ammended to their name” #speajer is the best #wait fuck i misread thought ut said sayer not speaker #but i dont regret it speaker is also sexy af Mod Note: We can have some SAYER propaganda. As a treat.

#this thing !! #this thing stares down the face of death and gives it a winning smile! #this thing is tailor made for it!! #pleaseee.

Kayne (Malevolent):

Literaly just a tumbr sexy man

black suit, no shoes, covered in blood, plays piano, quirky laugh

An eldritch god soaked in blood. He's Arthur Lester's number one cheer leader.

covered in blood, plays piano, silly laugh, very Will Wood coded

He's insane. He's so dynamic. Will Wood's The Normal Album in humanized eldritch god form. Always covered in blood. Need I say more?

#KAYNE SWEEEEEP LET'S GOOOO #my babygirl he deserves to win this entire thing #i'm not biased i swear

#Kayne my love #i want to end you but i love hearing from you

#Kayne is such A Guy. like he’s just so Character #he does Things and says Lines and it’s great

#2024 Round 2.5 #SPEAKER #Kayne #SPEAKER SAYER #Kayne Malevolent #SAYER #Malevolent #SAYER Podcast #Malevolent Podcast #SPEAKER AI

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supernotnatural2005 · 3 days ago

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His Only Exception

Pairing: Solider Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben isn't a fan of Valentines day, but he's come a long way since the fall of Vought and the days before. And maybe, you're the exception.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings/Tags: Swearing, mentions of past trauma, implied spicy times, established relationship.

AN: Okay so this is my first Solider Boy debut. 😅 This idea just came to me and thought it would be a great idea for the holiday >❤️< For the sake of this story, I have set this in an alternate reality where Solider Boy had killed Homelander and Vought's no more... I hope you all enjoy, and let me know what you think 💕

Masterlist

Valentine’s Day wasn’t exactly Ben’s thing.

Hell, he thought it was a cash grab—just another excuse for couples to pretend they were happier than they really were. Romance, flowers, chocolates? That crap wasn’t for him. The only good thing going for it was getting his dick wet. At least, that’s what he told himself.

And yet, here he was, standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, fidgeting with the edges of a small, beat-up gift box like it was a live grenade. He’d been up before you, slipping out of bed without waking you—something that never happened. Normally, he was all over you in the mornings, shamelessly getting handsy while groaning about wanting breakfast. But today was different. Today, he was a little nervous.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

After everything he’d been through—the bloodshed, the betrayal, the torture—he’d finally found some redemption.

Homelander was gone, Vought had crumbled, and he was free to go on as he pleased. Within limits, of course—that was the agreement. But he didn’t know what to do with himself. All his so-called friends were dead—not that they were really his friends. Just ungrateful fucking leeches who got what they deserved. He had no family, and now, he was forced to navigate a world he barely recognised.

Women showed a whole lot more ass and tit than they used to, and weed was legal in most states, so there were perks. But surprisingly, Ben didn’t care much for those things anymore.

He’d always wanted a family - to settle down, have a few little rugrats running around. But he knew he had to change in order for that to happen. Women stood up for themselves a lot more now, called him out on his bullshit, some even avoided him outright. It wasn’t like the old days, when they’d beg to suck his cock just because of who he was.

Now, he was just some washed-up, century-old superhero. A man who had killed, not only his own son, but America’s golden boy. He was either hated or respected. Never loved.

Until he met you.

Feeling lost and wallowing in self-pity, he’d reluctantly taken advice from Grace—who, despite hating his guts, had suggested he try a support group. She’d claimed that maybe, buried beneath all the ‘misogynistic, disgusting, selfish bravado’ he liked to throw around (her words), there was still some trace of humanity in him.

He hadn’t exactly helped his case when he’d laughed in her face and scoffed, “therapy is for pussies”, though.

But eventually, the loneliness, the emptiness of his old life—it all got tiring. He wanted more.

When he first saw you, sure, he thought you were easy on the eyes, a knockout really. You had nice curves, a pretty face to go with them. And you seemed like the kind of woman who respected herself, but in a sexy/ professional kinda way. But what stood out most was your kindness.

You knew who he was—everyone in that room did. Most either looked at him with fear, disgust, or curiosity. But not you.

You looked at him like he was just another guy trying to get his shit together. Just another person wanting to change. And though he’d never admit it, that’s what hooked him. It’s why, despite his disdain for that kind of thing, he kept coming back.

For once in his life, you made him feel normal. Accepted.

So when you finally took a chance on him—and it hadn’t been fucking easy to get you to—he knew he had to make it count. Now, almost a year later, he was a semi-changed man.

When you finally emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in one of his t-shirts - he was still getting used to the way the sight of you like that made his chest warm - rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Ben leaned back against the counter, trying way too hard to look casual.

“Morning, sunshine.” You gave him a soft smile before noticing something unusual. No crude morning remarks, no immediate attempt to pull you into his arms, and ravish you on the kitchen counter. Just him, standing there, looking...shifty.

Your eyes flickered to the small box in his hands. “What’s that?”

Ben huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s stupid. Nothin’.”

You stepped closer, reaching for it, and he let you take it—though he grumbled under his breath, “It ain’t a big deal.”

You ignored him as you opened it, revealing a simple, delicate necklace. It wasn’t flashy, nothing over-the-top, but it was beautiful. Your fingers brushed over the small pendant, noticing the faint engraving of his initials on the back.

Your chest tightened. “Ben…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Look, it’s not, like, a thing.” His voice was gruff, defensive, but there was no real bite behind it. “I just figured, I dunno... chicks like this kinda shit. And I didn’t wanna be the asshole boyfriend who forgot.”

You smirked, stepping into his space, pressing your hand against his chest. “You’re such a liar.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You care.” You tilted your head, studying his face. “You’re acting all tough, but this meant something to you. Admit it.”

Ben scoffed, scooping you up effortlessly and tossing you over his shoulder, making you yelp. “Jesus, you get one little gift and suddenly go all Dr. Phil on me.”

You laughed, smacking his back playfully. “You’re embarrassed!”

“I’m not fucking embarrassed,” he grumbled, carrying you back toward the bedroom. “And besides, Valentine’s Day is about one thing and one thing only, sweetheart.”

With a cocky smirk, he tossed you onto the bed, leaning over you. “And that’s me making you scream my name.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered. He still had his rough edges, cracks that hadn’t fully sealed, old habits that died hard—but he was trying. And that’s what mattered.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a slow, lingering kiss. He groaned low in his chest, settling himself between your legs, his cock hard and heavy as it pressed against your core through his sweats. When you pulled back, you whispered, a little breathlessly, “I love you, Ben.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, like he was still trying to figure out how the hell he got lucky enough to have you.

It wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but every time since, it hit him in a way nothing else ever had. Being loved—not for his fame, his money, or some character Vought had portrayed him be, but for who he was—was a feeling unlike any other. A high better than any drug he’d ever taken. And he’d taken a lot.

Still, the words never came easy. Vulnerability wasn’t in his nature, and saying it out loud made it real—something that could be taken from him.

So instead, with a smirk and that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, he showed you just how much he loved you. And, true to his word, it ended with you screaming his name.

AN: I hope you guys liked this one! And HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!! ❤️❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Soldier Boy Tag List:

@happyfxckinghorrors @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @stoneyggirl2 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier/ben x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys season 3 #jensen ackles #abbalina writes

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e-dubbc11 · 2 days ago

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A Pizza His Heart

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Reader

Warnings: Implied smexy time but PG-13 for the most part, smooches, fluffy bunnies and unicorns. Maybe a swear word or two.

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: You never really understood the hype around Valentine’s Day and maybe you were a bit cynical because you’ve never had a valentine but maybe it will be different this year. ♥️

A/N: I know, I know…the title is wicked cheesy(see what I did there? 🤣) Ok, I’m done with the Dad jokes. I just thought this would be a fun little idea, so happy Valentine’s Day to all my lovely friends out there! I kiss you all on the forehead💋💋♥️♥️ I took elements from one of my favorite episodes, Season 9, episode 12 The Purge(“A fish taco?”).

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It was coming up on Friday.

The dreaded king of greeting card holidays, in your eyes, was Valentine’s Day and you never could really understand what all the fuss was about. One day a year where you dote on the person you love? What a crock of shit.

Mostly, you were cynical because you had never really had someone to call your Valentine…until now.

But Dean didn’t strike you as the romantic Valentine’s Day type. That wasn’t him. He barely knew what to do in a relationship, let alone plan a romantic night out for a cheeseball holiday like Valentine’s Day. But it was alright and you loved him because he was so non-traditional.

Last year for your birthday, he bought you four new tires for your car and took it to be washed and detailed. He really didn’t know any better despite Sam trying to tell him otherwise but you didn’t have high expectations either. Previous boyfriends couldn’t even remember your birthday, let alone get you something that you needed.

You couldn’t fault Dean for trying when others never bothered.

He would bring you your favorite ice cream or candy bar if he saw them while he was out. He’d come home with those really bad tabloid magazines or newspapers because he knew you loved them (he did too) and you would read through them out loud to each other and laugh together at how ridiculous the stories were.

It wasn’t a normal relationship but it was as normal as it gets for Dean Winchester. He loved you more than anything and that was enough for you.

**********

Monday

Watching him pack his bag for a hunt always made your heart hurt a little. It was mostly because you just wanted him to come home safe but you hated to watch him leave.

“Where ya goin’ this time, baby?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Dean was packing his bag like he would be gone for at least a few days.

The sun had already gone down so warm amber glow from the nightstand lamp was the only light in the bedroom. The sleeves to his flannel shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms.

Without even trying, he was incredibly sexy.

Unconsciously, you were biting down on your lower lip as you watched him toss clothes into his bag and place his leather toiletry bag on top.

Moving away from the doorway, you walked over to sit down on the bed while he finished. Dean placed his bag on the floor and looked down at you as your gaze met his and he gave you a smile that would melt your insides. His thumb brushed the soft skin of your cheek as you closed your eyes and melted into his touch.

“Stillwater, Minnesota, sweetheart.” He replied in his deep gravelly voice as he sat down next to you.

As you inched closer to him, you gently placed a hand on his chest, and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“And what’s in Stillwater, Minnesota, handsome?” You asked, in barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t know yet. Sam said a guy weighing over 300 pounds was found dead in his car but I guess when they found him, it looked like he weighed no more than 100 pounds. Sounded like our thing so we’re gonna go check it out.” Said Dean.

There was a breath of room between your bodies and as he brushed his fingers along your collarbone, it sent wild tremors along your nerves from the top of your head, down to your toes.

You kissed him hard, he growled against your mouth as he parted your lips and his tongue stroked against yours.

“You make me not wanna leave when you kiss me like that. Well, I-I mean I don’t r-really wanna leave anyway. You know what I’m tryin’ to say.” He stammered.

Chuckling, you replied, “I know you don’t, Dean. I just wanted you to remember what you’re missing when you go away.”

“Makes me excited to come home, baby.” He said with a sly smile.

You kissed him again.

“As it should.” You said with a wink. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Talk to you soon, sweetheart.”

And with a squeak of a car door and a loud growl of the engine, he was gone.

You may end up spending Valentine’s Day alone afterall.

**********

Wednesday

Dean called just like he always did.

“So you’re at a wellness spa?” You asked in a confused tone.

Dean was trying to be as quiet as possible because he was still at the spa.

“Yeah, Canyon Valley Wellness Spa. Sam got a job here as a yoga instructor and the only thing I could get was in the kitchen.” Dean whispered.

“So you’re preparing food.” You said.

Dean quipped, “This is not food, baby.”

You laughed. “Ok, well do you know what you’re dealing with yet?”

“Sam thinks it’s something called a Pishtaco.” Said Dean.

You narrowed your eyes and replied, “A fish taco?”

“That’s what I thought he said! But no, a Pishtaco is native to Peru and they’re fat suckers.” He whispered. “So a place like this is a perfect cover for them.”

“Ew.” You replied.

“So that’s why people are thinner when they leave here and why they have marks on their back. Oh shit, someone’s coming. Gotta go. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon.” Dean said, hurriedly.

He hung up before you could tell him you loved him too but it sounded like they were close to solving the case and hopefully he would be home soon.

**********

Thursday Evening

You didn’t hear from Dean at all today. He tried to call every day that he was away but it didn’t always happen. A quick text was all you would get some days but you didn’t even get that today.

Distracting yourself from the fact that he didn’t call or text was difficult but you managed alright. You went out for “Galentine’sDay” with some of your friends from work. They invited you out for dinner and drinks which was just what you needed. It was the perfect distraction and it was a great night but in the end, you still had to come home to an empty house.

You had hoped to pull up to the house to see Baby parked in the driveway and Dean waiting patiently for you on the couch. But the house was dark and the driveway was empty so you knew he wasn’t home yet.

With the pillow gently cradling your head, you stared up at the ceiling in the gathering darkness and listened to the ceaseless winds outside your windows. It sounded like they were trying their hardest to unearth the trees as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Your last thoughts before falling asleep were of Dean. The way he looked at you with his sage green eyes like you were the only woman in the world, joking with him about wanting to connect the splash of freckles across his nose, or wondering if he was thinking about you right now the way you were thinking about him.

Wherever he was, you just hoped he was alright.

**********

♥️Valentine’s Day♥️

Dean called that morning, said he was on his way home, and that he couldn’t wait to see you. But he made no mention of Valentine’s Day which wasn’t surprising but it didn’t mean you couldn’t do something nice for him since he had been gone all week.

He didn’t know if he would be home in time for dinner or not so he told you not to cook but he didn’t say anything about dessert.

You were lucky enough to scoop up the last heart shaped pie dish at the store so along with that, you bought everything you needed to bake him a heart shaped cherry pie.

As it sat cooling on the counter, you thought about just having pie for dinner when Dean came home. Knowing he probably already ate on his way home and not wanting to eat alone on Valentine’s Day, you decided to eat a little snack and open a bottle of wine because why not, right?

So you enjoyed your glass of wine, cracked open your book and patiently waited to hear the rumble of Baby’s engine and signature door squeak followed by Dean’s handsome face as he walked through the front door.

He was so happy when he walked through the door and you were very happy to see him, unharmed. A lot of the time he’d walk back through your door with cuts on his face, bruises, and sometimes even gunshot or stab wounds.

“There she is. Hey sweetheart, miss me?” Dean asked with a wide smile.

He was carrying a pizza box along with his travel bag.

“Of course I missed you! Hey baby!” You replied. “Is that an empty pizza box orrrrrr?”

Dean knew you were trying to be funny but he still shot you a “look.”

“Very funny, y/n. No it’s not empty, I thought we could have dinner together.” He said, setting it down on the table. “Do I smell pie?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied with a chuckle.

After retrieving a couple of plates from the cupboard and getting Dean a beer from the fridge, he carefully watched your face as you opened the pizza box, revealing a heart shaped pepperoni pizza inside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” Said Dean, softly.

“Oh Dean…you brought me a heart shaped pizza? That’s so thoughtful, baby!” You replied, getting ready to snake your arms around his neck before he stopped you.

“Crap, I have something else for you. I left it in the car, hold that thought though.” He said with a wink.

When he came back inside, he was holding a single red rose with baby’s breath, wrapped in plastic. It melted your heart.

Dean handed you the rose and nervously said, “All the flower shops were closed by the time I found one on the way home, I found this at the gas station. I know it’s not much but I hope it’s ok.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, flashed a wide smile at him before pressing your lips to his. Dean kissed you back, hard and pulled you in closer to him in a crushing grip. His spicy familiar smell helped you relax into his embrace as his tongue tangled with yours.

Warmth radiated through his shirt as his body pressed firmly against yours. Dean walked you backwards until he had caged you in against the kitchen counter. A low growl escaped his lips and you could feel his hardening length through his jeans.

“It’s perfect baby, thank you. What’s not to love about a heart shaped pizza and flowers?” You asked, rhetorically.

“It’s just one flower, sweetheart. I had every intention of getting you an actual bouquet of flowers but—“ He said, before you gently pressed your fingers against his lips.

“Shh, shh, Dean. When I tell you that this is perfect, please believe me. It really is.” You said.

He finally took his gaze away from you long enough to see the cherry pie sitting on the counter next to where you were standing.

“You did make a pie.” He said, looking back at you with raised eyebrows. “And it’s heart shaped.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” You said, as your lips curled into a warm smile.

Dean tilted your chin up so he could kiss up and down your neck, your throat, and the deep V-neck shirt you were wearing allowed him to gently kiss you in between your breasts as a strangled moan broke free from your mouth.

“Thank you for my pie, sweetheart. Now, can I show you how much I’ve missed you?” He asked in a low whisper.

Those words in his deep gravelly voice sent a shiver down your spine. The desire behind his hypnotizing green eyes matched your need for him as you clenched your thighs together in anticipation.

“Couldn’t hurt to work up an appetite. I love you, Dean.” You said softly with a smile.

Dean lifted you off your feet and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you off to the bedroom.

“I love you too.”

Your first Valentine’s Day with Dean would be a hard one to beat but you didn’t doubt he would do his best to try even harder next year.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #valentines day #♥️♥️♥️♥️

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akawifeyy · 2 hours ago

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A DATE AT SEVEN, I DREAMED OF HEAVEN | fic (LN4)

description: after dozens of failed attempts, you finally cave in to your best friend's pleads to let her set you up with somebody.

tropes: blind date, love at first sight, fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: this is an au i've had in my mind for agessss omg

You were so fed up with the toxic culture of online dating apps that you finally gave in to your best friend Isolde's request, letting her set you up with someone. A blind date was not something you would normally do – it was out of your comfort zone and definitely risky. Perhaps it would be worth it, though. You trusted Isolde, that she wouldn't lead you astray. But even the people with the best intentions could be proven wrong.

According to her, he was cute and funny. A good conversationalist, loyal. "A lot to handle at once, but he's like a puppy. He'll grow on you." The words were somewhat comforting, yet the jury was still out on whether it was a good match. You had been thinking about it all week, staring into space and dreaming about meeting him, the perfect man.

Today was the day. For lack of better words, it was showtime. The hour was nigh, proving that your delusions would be upheld or shattered. You stood outside the cafe, tapping your foot impatiently as you scrolled through your Instagram feed. You had tried to find your blind date, but he wasn't following Isolde.

It could have been anyone. The guy in the beige trench coat walking his dog, or the man with dyed blue hair and two piercings standing at the crosswalk.

But no, it wasn't either of them.

A tanned, curly-headed man sauntered up to you, his hazel eyes scanning you like he was making sure you were the right person. "Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, are you my date?" You grinned, blushing as you took in his appearance. Damn, your friend had done a good job. He was exactly your type.

The man outstretched a hand. "I'm Lando. Nice to meet you."

You took the handshake, heat flooding you at the contact.

After pulling apart, Lando opened the door to the cafe, ushering you in first and trailing behind you.

The cafe itself was cozy, with warm lantern lights hanging from the ceiling, and various flora tangling itself throughout the stucco brick walls. The hostess brought you to a comfortable booth in a quiet part of the restaurant, and Lando let you sit down first before striking up a conversation.

"So..." he started, a smile growing on his lips. "You're friends with Isolde, hm?"

You nodded. "Yeah, we've been friends since year one of uni. How do you know her?"

"We're cousins," he confided. "Sadly."

You cocked your head to the side, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "Why is that a sad thing?"

"Everyone thinks we're siblings, and then when we tell them we're not, they assume our parents cheated." He hummed under his breath. Now that you were thinking about it, Isolde and Lando did look an awful lot like one another. They had the same unruly brown hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes. No wonder people were confused. "That's not really a conversation for the first date, is it, though? I'd like to know more about you."

You shrugged one shoulder. "Has Isolde not told you anything about me? I'm surprised."

Lando tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "I mean, she told me that you went on dates with lots of guys that didn't work out. And not to fuck this up."

You laughed. "Sounds like Isolde."

"Well, want to enlighten me, Y/N?" Lando asked eagerly.

You looked down at your nails, which were painted a soft blue color. Isolde was training to be an esthetician, so she practiced on you frequently, something you weren't complaining about. "I mean, I love to read and write."

"What kind? Poetry? Epics?" he pushed, digging for more information. "I'm sure you're cool, now prove it to me."

You rolled your eyes jokingly. "I write poetry sometimes, but mostly just short stories. Nothing publishable, they're not that good." You ignored Lando's exasperated huff, and continued. "As for reading, I like romcoms and thrillers. I know, they're both opposites, but they're my favorites. Do you like to read?"

Lando shook his head. "Nope, I'm not a reader. But I don't mind you talking about the books that you're reading. Girls talking about their interests are single-handedly the most attractive thing I've ever witnessed."

"And how many girls do you usually have to talk to about such matters?" you inquired.

"I'm not a player, if that's what you're getting at," Lando said, his eyes wide. "I've had a few girlfriends, but none of them worked out. I'm not a cheater. If I'm talking to one girl, that's it. No one else matters."

You pursed your lips. "That's nice."

"It's basic decency," he corrected you sternly. "As for my hobbies, I like to game and drive cars."

"Like... sports cars?" you waited for clarification, confused.

Lando blinked, taken aback. "Y/N...Isolde didn't tell you?"

Panic flooded you, as you thought that you'd missed some important clue as to who he was. You were utterly oblivious. "No?"

"I'm a Formula One driver. For McLaren."

Oh. "Really?" you said quizzically. "She didn't tell me. She was probably respecting your privacy, and left that detail up to you."

Lando inclined his head. "That's nice of her, but I feel like a muppet. Do you watch F1?"

"Not really, I've watched a few Grand Prix, but I don't know much." You swallowed roughly. "Is that a dealbreaker?"

Lando frowned. "No. It's all the more reason to buy you paddock passes and show you what you're missing out on."

The waitress came by, and you ordered a few drinks and a small meal. You kept talking, slowly becoming more relaxed with one another. Lando informed you about his golf obsession, and you teased him, calling him an old man. In retaliation, he stole the cherry from your drink like a quick, cunning monkey, and you laughed so hard you couldn't breathe.

Isolde was right: Lando was amazing.

When you finished drinking and eating, Lando immediately offered to pay, but you pushed back, protesting loudly. "Let me split the bill, please."

"I have more than enough money for the both of us. It's the respectful thing to do," he reminded you.

You scowled at him, but gave up the fight you knew you were losing. "Fine."

You gathered your belongings, entering Lando's number into your phone, and bid him goodnight. Lando had given you a quick kiss on the cheek, thanking you for the date, and your body had bloomed with warmth at the sensation. "See you soon?"

"Yep," you beamed.

You knew this was just the first of many dates, and the start of a romance for the ages.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic

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chelseaknoo · 1 day ago

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Valentine’s Day with Eminem

Eminem x Reader

Caution: semi-sexual content and Marshall’s baby fever <3

Note:sorry it’s a day late! And any era of Eminem you want!

For the past two years, you and Marshall had been together, and despite his usual tough-guy exterior, you knew how much he loved you. He showed it in his own way—whether it was pulling you closer in his sleep, always making sure you were safe, or spoiling you just because he felt like it.

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, you wanted to do something special for him. Marshall wasn’t the type to get overly sentimental about holidays, but you knew he’d appreciate the thought, even if he acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

After weeks of planning, you finally settled on the perfect gifts—a luxury watch, custom jewelry designed specifically for him, and, of course, a fresh pair of sneakers. You knew he had more shoes than he could ever wear, but the man had a weakness for them, and you loved seeing his face light up when he got a new pair.

The packages sat neatly wrapped in your closet, hidden from sight. You were excited to give them to him, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t here just yet.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Marshall strolled into the living room, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously.

“You been actin’ sneaky as fuck lately,” he muttered, flopping down next to you. “What the hell you up to?”

You smirked, locking your phone. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

He narrowed his eyes. “’Cause I know you. Every time you try to hide shit from me, you start actin’ all innocent like that. What is it? You plannin’ some kinda bullshit prank?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, Marshall. Not everything I do is about messing with you.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grumbled, still unconvinced. “I swear, if you put hot sauce in my coffee again, I’m dumpin’ your ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time, and you deserved it.”

“The fuck I do?” he shot back. “I ain’t do nothin’ to you!”

“You called me a brat all day just because I didn’t wanna watch Scarface for the hundredth time.”

Marshall scoffed. “First off, Scarface is a goddamn classic. Second, you are a brat, and third—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing again. “Wait, why are we talkin’ about that? Don’t change the subject. What are you hiding?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like that.”

“You’ll live,” you teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Nah, see, now I really wanna know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “You’re not gonna distract me.”

“The fuck I ain’t,” he muttered, nipping at your skin lightly.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. He really did have a way of making you melt, but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Marshall,” you warned playfully.

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine. Keep your little secrets. But if I find out you got me some corny-ass matching couple shit, I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t wearin’ it.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile. “Not even if it’s really cool?”

“Not even if Jesus himself came down and told me to put that shit on.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned, tightening his arms around you. “Fuckin’ hate waiting.”

“Too bad,” you teased, kissing his cheek again before slipping out of his grasp.

Valentine’s Day was coming soon, but for now, you’d let him suffer in suspense.

You stirred awake to the faint smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes, maybe? Your brows furrowed as you turned onto your side, reaching out, only to realize the other side of the bed was empty. That was unusual. Normally, Marshall stayed in bed as long as he could, clinging to you like a damn koala.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up slowly, your hair a mess and your body still heavy with sleep. Just as you were about to call out for him, the bedroom door pushed open, and there he was—your grumpy, foul-mouthed boyfriend, holding a tray of food in one hand and a massive bouquet of deep red roses in the other.

"Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day, baby," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he made his way over.

You blinked, still half-asleep. "Marshall…?"

"What?" He quirked a brow, setting the tray down on your lap before plopping onto the bed next to you. "Look at that, I ain't completely useless. I ain't burn the fuckin’ kitchen down or nothin’."

A slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips as you looked down at the tray. There was a plate stacked with pancakes—heart-shaped, even—alongside crispy bacon, eggs, and a cup of coffee, just how you liked it.

"You… made this?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, no shit. You see anybody else in this house?" he scoffed. "I ain't about to let some random motherfucker come in here and cook for my girl."

You chuckled, picking up a piece of bacon. "I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to have Paul do it."

Marshall snorted. "The fuck would I look like, callin’ Paul at six in the morning talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Yo, come make my girl some breakfast’?"

You laughed, shaking your head before glancing at the roses. "And these?"

"These are also for my girl," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Real as hell, just like you."

Your heart swelled, and you traced your fingers over the soft petals, inhaling the fresh scent. He wasn’t the biggest romantic, but when he did things like this, it meant even more.

"You really went all out," you murmured, looking up at him.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… you deserve it."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you set the roses down beside you before leaning over to kiss him. He cupped the back of your head, deepening it, his other hand slipping under the covers to squeeze your thigh.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips before pulling back slightly. "This is really sweet, Marshall."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to pull you back in. "Eat your damn food before it gets cold."

You smirked. "You just don’t wanna admit you’re a softie."

"The fuck I do," he grumbled.

"Making me breakfast, getting me flowers…" You tilted your head. "You gonna write me a poem next?"

He deadpanned. "You want me to?"

You burst out laughing. "No, no, I’d rather keep my ears intact."

He narrowed his eyes. "You a real fuckin’ comedian, huh?"

You winked, picking up your fork. "Only for you, babe."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he leaned back against the headboard, watching you eat.

After finishing your breakfast, you leaned back against the headboard, completely satisfied. “Damn, Marshall,” you said, dabbing your lips with a napkin. “That was actually really good.”

He smirked. “The fuck you mean ‘actually’? Like you expected me to fuck it up?”

You giggled, stretching before glancing over at him. “You said you wanted to take me out, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Figured we could do somethin’ nice since it’s Valentine’s Day ‘n’ all.”

You grinned. “Aww, look at you being all romantic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Laughing, you hopped out of bed and stretched again. “Alright, well, I need to get ready.”

Marshall gave you a look. “How long we talkin’? ‘Cause if it’s some two-hour bullshit—”

Before he could finish, you cut him off by playfully shoving him toward the bedroom door. “Go do something productive while I get dressed.”

“I was doin’ somethin’ productive—sittin’ here lookin’ at my beautiful ass girl,” he shot back, smirking.

You shook your head, laughing as you finally managed to push him out and shut the door. Now it was time to get ready.

Thirty Minutes Later

“Babe!”

You heard Marshall’s irritated voice from the other side of the door.

“Yo, what the fuck is takin’ so long? We goin’ out today or next Valentine’s Day?”

You smiled to yourself, carefully applying the last touch of gloss to your lips. “Be patient!”

“Patient? I been sittin’ here for thirty fuckin’ minutes! You better be comin’ out lookin’ like a goddamn supermodel or some shit.”

You smirked at your reflection. Oh, he was definitely going to eat his words.

Finally satisfied, you strutted over to the door and swung it open, stepping out dramatically.

Marshall, who had been leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone, glanced up—and instantly froze.

His blue eyes widened as they slowly traveled from your head to your toes, taking in every damn detail. You were wearing a form-fitting, deep red mini dress that hugged every curve just right. The fabric clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating your waist and hips. The plunging neckline showed off your cleavage, and the thin straps left your shoulders completely bare. The dress stopped mid-thigh, revealing your smooth legs, paired with sleek black stilettos that made them look even longer.

Your makeup was flawless—dark, sultry eyeshadow, long lashes, and your lips painted a soft glossy red to match the dress. Your hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing your face effortlessly.

You smirked. “Well? Supermodel enough for you?”

Marshall blinked, his mouth opening slightly before shutting again. He looked you up and down one more time, then dragged a hand down his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You giggled, stepping closer. “Is that a good ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’ or a bad one?”

He scoffed. “Oh, it’s good, alright. Good enough that now I don’t even wanna go nowhere.” His hands found your hips, pulling you in. “Matter fact, how ‘bout we stay our asses right here?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. “Nope, you said we’re going out. Let’s go.”

He groaned, but reluctantly let go, stepping back. “You doin’ this shit on purpose,” he muttered, shaking his head as he grabbed his keys.

You smirked, picking up your clutch. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as you both walked to the car.

Once outside, Marshall opened the passenger door for you, but just as you were about to get in, he grabbed your wrist.

“Hold the fuck up.”

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

His gaze darkened. “This dress—where the fuck is the rest of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Marshall—”

“Nah, I’m serious. This shit barely covers anything,” he grumbled, eyeing the way the fabric stretched over your curves.

“You’re being dramatic,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Dramatic?” he scoffed. “Nah, ‘cause I already know muthafuckers gonna be lookin’ at you, and then I’ma have to beat somebody’s ass.”

You giggled, sliding into the seat. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous,” he muttered, slamming the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

When he got in, he cut you a side glance, still frowning.

You smirked. “If it makes you feel better, I only care about your eyes on me.”

Marshall grunted as he started the car. “Damn right you do.”

You shook your head, still smiling. The night hadn’t even started yet, and it was already entertaining.

After getting into the car, Marshall still hadn't gotten over the dress you were wearing. He kept throwing glances your way, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he drove.

“I swear to God, if one muthafucker even thinks about staring at you too long, I’m knockin’ his ass out.”

You laughed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Marshall, relax. I dress like this for you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t like sharin’.”

You smirked, reaching over to rest your hand on his thigh. “Then maybe you should take me shopping and pick out what you like.”

Marshall gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “Shopping?”

You nodded innocently. “Mhm. You said it’s our day, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aight, fine. But if you think I ain’t keepin’ an eye on what the fuck you’re buyin’—”

You grinned, cutting him off. “Let’s go before you change your mind.”

At the Mall

Marshall should’ve known this was a bad idea.

Not because he didn’t want to spoil you—he did. Hell, he’d give you the whole damn world if he could. But damn, the way you were tossing clothes into the shopping bags like money wasn’t a real thing? Yeah, that was starting to fuck with his head.

“Yo,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed the price tag on one of the bags. “You tryna make me go broke?”

You giggled, slipping your arm around his. “Marshall, you have millions.”

“And at this rate, I’ma have zero.” He sighed dramatically, watching as you picked up another outfit. “What even is this? That shit ain't even enough fabric to be called clothes.”

You held up the tiny lace lingerie set with a smirk. “Oh, this? It’s for later.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, and he snatched it out of your hands, tossing it over his arm before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. “You are wearin’ this for me, right?”

You batted your lashes. “Who else?”

His blue eyes darkened slightly before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck it. Get whatever the fuck you want. Just remember, you wear this little shit outside? We fightin’.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek. “Noted.”

By the time you were done, Marshall was carrying way too many bags, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered as you both walked toward the exit. “Why you need this much shit?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” you reminded him, smiling. “You said you wanted to spoil me.”

“Yeah, but damn.” He shifted the bags in his arms. “Next time, I’m takin’ you to Target.”

Lunch Date

After dropping the bags off in the car, you and Marshall headed to a nice little restaurant nearby.

As soon as you both sat down, Marshall leaned back in his seat, stretching. “Aight, now this part I don’t mind. Food? I can get behind that shit.”

You smiled, flipping through the menu. “Oh, so you don’t mind spending money on food but clothes are a problem?”

“Damn right,” he muttered. “Food don’t make me question my fuckin’ bank account.”

You giggled, shaking your head before deciding on what you wanted. When the waitress came over, Marshall ordered for both of you, making sure you got exactly what you liked.

Once the food arrived, you could tell Marshall was in his happy place. His entire mood shifted the second he took that first bite.

“God damn,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “This shit good as fuck.”

You laughed, watching him practically melt into his seat. “You act like you’ve never had a meal before.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Shit, I ain’t sayin’ that. Just sayin’, whoever made this needs a raise.”

Smirking, you picked up your fork and held a piece of food out to him. “Here, try this.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “You tryna feed me now?”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” you teased, wiggling the fork in front of him.

He rolled his eyes but leaned in, taking the bite. He chewed for a moment before nodding. “Aight, I see you. That shit good too.”

Smiling, you wiped a little sauce from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You got something—”

Before you could pull your hand away, Marshall smirked and suddenly took your thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Your eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to your face. “Marshall!”

He chuckled, letting go. “What? You wiped it off. I just finished the job.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a fry and held it up. “Here, your turn.”

Marshall smirked, but instead of taking it with his hands, he leaned forward and took it straight from your fingers with his mouth.

“You are so dramatic,” you muttered, laughing.

He chewed and winked. “You love that shit.”

After finishing your meals, you both sat back, completely full and content. Marshall took a sip of his drink before glancing at you.

“Aight, what’s next?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “See, now I’m worried.”

You giggled, leaning over the table to kiss him. “Relax, babe. The day’s not over yet.”

Marshall sighed, running a hand down his face before mumbling, “I got a bad fuckin’ feelin’ ‘bout this.”

You just smiled. Oh, if only he knew.

The night had finally arrived, and Marshall had been quiet for most of the drive, the soft hum of the car's engine filling the spaces between you two. The city lights flickered outside as you both made your way toward your dinner destination, but you had something to share before it all went down.

"Hey," you said, breaking the silence and shifting slightly in your seat to grab the bag you had stashed beside you.

Marshall glanced over at you, brow furrowed. "What?"

You smirked, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box with the watch you’d bought for him. "I got you something. For Valentine's Day."

He raised an eyebrow, looking over at you in surprise. "You didn’t need to get me shit," he grumbled, but his tone softened as his curiosity grew. "You know I ain't about all that gift shit."

You shrugged, holding the box out to him. "Yeah, well, I wanted to. So just take it."

Marshall hesitated for a moment before taking the box from your hand, his eyes lingering on you as he carefully opened it. Inside, a sleek, expensive watch glimmered under the interior lights of the car.

"Yo... what the fuck?" he muttered, his eyes going wide as he lifted the watch. "This... this shit’s expensive as hell, babe."

You just smiled. "You deserve it. You’ve been working your ass off."

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. "Damn. I don't even know what to say." He let out a low whistle, admiring the watch before slipping it on his wrist. "You're gonna make me feel guilty for not getting you something that costs this much."

You waved him off. "You already spoil me, Marshall. It’s not about the price."

Before he could respond, you reached into the bag again, pulling out more boxes. "And there's more."

He turned his head toward you, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "You serious? You get me more shit?"

You chuckled softly, handing it over. "You’ll see."

He opened it slowly, his expression changing from confusion to shock as he revealed the custom chain—his initials carved into the thick gold links, designed with care and made specifically for him. Then the expensive sneakers, which also blew his mind.

"Goddamn..." he whispered, clearly impressed. "This is... this is fuckin' next level."

You grinned. "I figured you’d like it."

"Like it? Babe, I fuckin’ love it." His voice softened, and his gaze turned to you, his usual tough demeanor melting away. "You didn’t have to do all this, though."

You shrugged, feeling a little bashful at the sincerity in his eyes. "I wanted to."

Marshall smiled, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that? Thank you." He took a deep breath, looking down at the watch and chain once more. "I feel like a damn millionaire now."

You laughed. "You *are* a damn millionaire."

"Yeah, but this... this is a different kind of flex," he said, the grin on his face growing wider. "I’m not tryna show off, but damn, I look good."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You always look good."

He shot you a playful wink before pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. "Alright, now it’s my turn to take care of you."

You glanced around at the fancy cars parked in front of the restaurant, feeling the anticipation building up. "Where are we going?"

Marshall parked the car, turning off the engine. "It’s a surprise."

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything else, he was already getting out of the car and opening your door. "Come on, let’s go."

You took his hand as he led you toward the entrance of the restaurant, the warmth of the night air brushing against your skin. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of luxury—wood paneling, rich leather seats, and the soft clinking of silverware.

The hostess greeted you both, giving you a nod as she checked the reservation list. "Mr. Mathers, your table is ready."

Marshall smirked, glancing over at you. "I told you I got this."

As you followed her to your table, you couldn’t help but notice the view—this restaurant had a balcony seating area that overlooked the entire city. The lights below looked like a sea of stars, and the atmosphere was quiet, intimate.

The hostess pulled out the chair for you, and you sat down, still in awe of the beautiful setting. Marshall slid into the seat next to you, his eyes scanning the area as he looked satisfied with himself.

"Damn," you whispered, taking in the view. "You really went all out, huh?"

"Only for you," he said, his voice low and genuine. "I told you, I’m makin’ tonight special. You deserve it."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I don’t need fancy stuff, Marshall. I just need you."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your skin as he looked at you with a soft smile. "Yeah, well, I want to give you more than that. I want you to know you’re the best thing I got."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. "You’re not so bad yourself, Slim."

He chuckled at the nickname, leaning back in his chair. "Guess I got a soft spot for you, huh?"

"Guess so," you teased, leaning forward as you eyed the menu. "So what are we ordering?"

Marshall scanned the options, but you could tell he was still lost in thought. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze lingering before he looked away. "I’ll let you pick. You know what you like."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Are you serious? You’re not even gonna help?"

He leaned in, his voice lowering to something more playful. "Hell no. It’s your night. I’m just here to enjoy the view."

You couldn't resist. There was something so satisfying about pushing Marshall’s buttons, especially when he was already feeling the weight of the night’s lavish surprises. The waiter stood at your table, waiting patiently for your order. Marshall was leaning back in his chair, trying to look casual, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. You decided it was time to have some fun.

"Alright," you said, flipping through the menu one last time. "I’ll have the lobster bisque as a starter. And, uh, the Wagyu beef, medium-rare, with a side of truffle fries."

Marshall's eyes widened as he leaned forward, clearly about to say something.

"Also, throw in the foie gras. Gotta go all out, right?" You grinned, knowing full well he’d start to get worked up.

Marshall’s mouth hung open for a second before he snapped it shut, glancing at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "I’m tryna treat you right, and you’re gonna hit me with that shit?"

The waiter, trying his best to be polite, wrote down your order and nodded before walking off to place it in the kitchen. Marshall turned his attention back to you, looking like he was about to burst.

"You really gonna make me pay for all this?" he asked, an amused yet annoyed look crossing his face. "I mean, I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day, but fuck. What’s next, a bottle of 200-dollar champagne?"

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair, enjoying the show. "Maybe," you teased, trying to hold in your laughter. "Why not? You only live once, right?"

Marshall shook his head in mock disbelief, his hands running over his face as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. "You are somethin’ else, you know that?" His tone was half exasperated, half impressed. "I swear, you’re gonna bankrupt me before this night’s over."

"Yeah, well, I like to live dangerously," you said, still grinning. "You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me, Marshall. Don’t act all surprised."

Marshall let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' crazy," he muttered under his breath, though his lips were still curling up at the edges. "You really are a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, but you love it," you teased, giving him a wink.

"Love it? Hell, I’m just tryna keep my bank account from catchin' fire." He paused, glancing at you sideways with a smirk. "But... I guess you do look good enough to justify it. Maybe."

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You look damn good. I’ll give you that. But don’t push it, alright?"

The waiter returned soon after with a basket of freshly baked bread and a bottle of sparkling water, which you immediately ignored, still grinning. "The bread looks good, but I’m holding out for the good stuff," you said, leaning forward, clearly relishing the moment.

Marshall grabbed a piece of bread, tearing into it with a sigh, clearly trying to calm himself down. "I swear, if you order another thousand-dollar meal, I’m gonna fucking lose it."

"You’ll be fine," you said nonchalantly, enjoying every second of his misery. "It’s not like you’re gonna go broke over this."

"Don’t jinx me, babe," he shot back, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. "You’re making me second guess every damn decision I’ve made tonight."

You leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of the water. "Relax, Marshall. You’re not gonna die from a fancy dinner."

"Well, if I do, I’m blaming you," he said, taking another bite of bread. "I told you I didn’t want any of this shit. But here I am, gettin’ sucked into your ridiculousness."

You smiled smugly. "You love it. Don’t lie."

He threw his hands up in exasperation, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, fine. I love it. But damn, you’re gonna make me broke doing it."

"Hey, at least I’m worth it," you said, giving him a wink.

"Yeah, yeah," Marshall muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the wine list on the table. "You better be worth it, or else I’m putting my foot down."

You leaned over the table toward him, your smile widening. "You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he shot back with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You know I’ll do it."

As the conversation continued, the food started to arrive, each dish more expensive and extravagant than the last. The lobster bisque came out first, and it was rich, creamy, and perfect. Marshall hesitated for a second before taking a bite.

"Okay," he said begrudgingly. "This actually tastes pretty damn good."

"I know," you said, taking a spoonful yourself. "Told you."

The next dish, the Wagyu beef, arrived, perfectly seared and looking like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. You cut into it with ease, savoring the flavor. Marshall just shook his head, staring at the plate in disbelief.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," he muttered. "How the hell is this worth that much money?"

"Because it’s amazing," you replied with a grin. "It’s like the best steak you’ve ever had, but a hundred times better."

Marshall finally dug into his steak, pausing for a moment before looking up at you. "Alright, I’ll admit it. This is... fuckin’ delicious."

"Told you," you said smugly.

As the night went on, you both fed each other little bites of the various dishes, laughing and teasing each other along the way. You'd fork a piece of your steak and hold it out for him to eat, and he'd do the same with the truffle fries. You could see him start to relax, though he still had that playful edge to him.

After a while, Marshall leaned back in his chair, his arm casually resting on the back of yours. "You’re a handful, but damn if you don’t make this fun."

You rested your head against his shoulder, content. "And you love every second of it."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky," he grumbled, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere at the restaurant was starting to feel a little different. The balcony where you were sitting had a great view of the city, but with that view came a lot of attention. You were halfway through your meal when you noticed the first pair of eyes lingering on your boyfriend. Marshall didn’t seem to notice at first, but as you looked around, it became obvious that people were staring, some of them even sneaking pictures and videos on their phones.

You sighed and glanced over at Marshall, who was still focused on his food, though you could tell something was starting to bug him. He could sense it too. His brow furrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, his gaze darting to a couple sitting at a nearby table, their phone held up just a little too obviously in his direction. "Do these assholes have no shame?"

You tried to shrug it off, giving him a small smile to reassure him. "It’s fine, Marshall. Let them take their stupid pictures. We’re here to enjoy the night, right?"

But that didn't seem to calm him down. His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated. "Yeah, I get it. But it’s like, can’t a guy just have a fucking dinner without being treated like a damn zoo animal?"

You could tell he was starting to get worked up, so you reached over and put a hand on his, squeezing it gently. "I know, but this is what comes with the territory, babe. You’re Eminem. People want a piece of you."

He shot you a look, his eyes narrowing with frustration. "I don’t give a shit about all that. I just wanna eat my fucking food in peace."

"Yeah, I get it," you said, trying to calm him down, "but they’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well not let it ruin the night."

Marshall leaned forward, shaking his head. "It’s just annoying, man. Every time we go out, it’s like I’m fuckin’ on display." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’d think they’d give me a break, especially on a night like tonight."

"I’m fine with it," you said, leaning in close. "I’m used to it by now. It’s not a big deal. Let them stare. They’re not important."

Marshall shot a glance at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly still frustrated. "I just don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m some fucking animal in a cage." He turned back toward the table, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "I want to be here with you, not with a bunch of fucking strangers watching me eat like I’m some kind of freak."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his over-the-top reaction, but you understood. Being in the public eye like he was, it was no surprise that sometimes he’d get sick of it. Still, you didn’t want it to ruin the vibe of the night.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said, smiling as you reached for your glass of wine. "But how about this? Let’s just enjoy the meal. If they wanna stare, fine. But you and me, we’re gonna have a good time tonight. Just us."

Marshall looked at you for a moment, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m just so fucking tired of it sometimes." He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"I know, babe," you said, squeezing his hand again. "But let’s not let them ruin our night, okay? We deserve this."

He gave you a small, reluctant smile, his mood lightening just a bit. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fuck 'em."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Exactly. Fuck 'em. They’re not important."

Just as you said that, a couple at the next table discreetly took another picture, trying to be sneaky about it. You caught them and shot them a pointed look, but the couple quickly turned their attention back to their own conversation. Marshall noticed it too, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"See? Told you," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Don’t let them get to you," you said, smiling. "They’re just fans. They’ll get over it."

"Yeah, well, I hope they do before I fucking snap," he grumbled. But even though he was still irritated, you could tell his mood was lifting a little.

The waiter came back around to check on you, and Marshall put on a strained smile, though you could tell he was still agitated. "Yeah, we’re good," he said, though his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm. "Just, uh, you know, dealing with some bullshit over here."

The waiter smiled politely, unaware of the tension. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Marshall shook his head, his grip on his wine glass tightening. "Nah, we’re good for now. Thanks."

Once the waiter left, you turned to Marshall, trying to make him laugh. "You know, if you just smiled at them, they might stop."

Marshall shot you a side-eye, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. "You want me to smile at them? Like a fucking puppy?"

You burst out laughing. "Well, it might help."

"Yeah, well, fuck that," he grumbled. "I’m not here to entertain anyone. I’m here with you." He finally relaxed in his seat, his mood starting to shift as he took a deep breath. "Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Just... sometimes I wish I could have a night out without all this shit."

"I get it, really," you said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "But we’re here now. Just focus on me. I don’t care what they’re doing."

Marshall’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his earlier frustration fading. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Eminem leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling mischievously as he glanced at you. You’d been enjoying the rest of your meal, laughing and joking around, but his demeanor had changed. You could tell something was coming.

"Alright, baby," he said with a sly grin, leaning toward you. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the excitement bubble up. "Another one? What is it?"

He just shook his head, a little smirk playing on his lips. "Nope. You gotta trust me. Close your eyes."

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, not quite believing him. "You’re not gonna make me do something weird, are you?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Just... close your eyes. Trust me."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you obeyed, closing them and folding your arms on the table. Your heart started beating faster as the anticipation grew. "Alright, I’m trusting you," you said, your voice a little shaky with excitement.

"Good. Keep them closed."

You could hear the slight shuffle of movement, the sound of footsteps, and then a long silence. It was killing you not knowing what was happening. You felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside you. "Marshall, what the hell are you doing?"

But there was no response. Only the sound of people quietly whispering in the background. You felt a sudden shift in the air, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

"Okay," Marshall's voice broke through, soft yet full of confidence. "Open them."

You hesitated for a second, unsure of what to expect. Slowly, you opened your eyes—and your breath hitched in your throat.

There he was, kneeling right in front of you. Marshall. Your Marshall. On one knee. And in his hand was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Your heart immediately pounded in your chest, and your eyes stung with tears.

"Shit," you whispered, feeling the tears start to well up.

He laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place yet.

"You know," he started, his voice growing serious, though there was still that familiar playful tone, "you’re the most annoying fucking bitch I’ve ever met."

You laughed through your tears, wiping your eyes quickly. "What?!"

"You are," he said with a smirk. "You drive me fucking crazy."

Your lips parted in shock, and you almost laughed, trying to push back the tears. "I—"

"But..." He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’re also the most smoking hot woman I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. You’re beautiful as hell, and yeah, you’re an annoying bitch, but I don’t wanna spend another fucking day without you."

Your chest tightened as you fought back more tears. Marshall wasn’t exactly the type to spill his emotions, but when he did, it was always raw.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he continued. "You drain my fucking bank account, but I don’t care. I’d spend every fucking dime just to see that smile on your face." He paused, his hand shaking slightly as he held up the ring. "You’ve made my life better, and I’m ready to make you a fucking promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m asking you to be mine... forever."

Your eyes were brimming with tears now, and you struggled to find your voice. "Marshall, I—"

The crowd around you was now murmuring, a few people filming the whole moment with their phones, but you didn’t even care. It felt like it was just you and him, in that moment, the world fading into the background.

"You’ve been my fucking rock through all the bullshit, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you," he continued, his voice growing a little more intense. "I’m a fucking mess, but you’ve helped me put myself back together, piece by piece. So, yeah, I’m a stupid asshole sometimes. But I’ll be the best fucking man I can be... for you."

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, trying to steady your breath. "You’re not a mess," you whispered. "You’re everything."

Marshall gave you that trademark smirk of his. "So, will you marry me, you crazy ass woman?"

You paused, your heart racing, your mind spinning. Everything around you was fading—just you and him. You looked down at the beautiful ring in his hand, and then back up at him.

"Yes," you said, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, yes, yes!"

The room erupted into cheers as Marshall slid the ring onto your finger. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say, so you just threw your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. It was rough, filled with passion and love, and you could feel the relief and joy flooding through him.

"I fucking love you," he muttered against your lips. "Don’t ever forget that."

You smiled through your tears, your heart full. "I won’t. I love you too."

Once you and Marshall got back to your place, the whole day felt like it was still buzzing through the air. The car ride home had been quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet, one that said more than words could. Marshall's hand had been on your thigh the entire drive, and every now and then, he’d glance at you with that knowing look that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew he was excited, not just about the day, but about the life he was promising you. And hell, you were excited too. Everything had been building up to this moment—this moment where he was finally yours, and you were his.

When you walked through the door, you didn’t even bother with small talk. You wanted to keep the night going in the best way possible. "I need to change," you said, already pulling your coat off and walking toward the bedroom. "Don’t follow me," you added with a teasing glance, knowing he’d be on your heels in an instant.

But this time, he listened.

You closed the bedroom door behind you and slid the lingerie you’d picked out at the mall earlier that day from the shopping bag. It was a black lace set, the kind that was sexy as hell but still had that mysterious, classy edge. You smirked to yourself as you undressed and slipped into it, checking yourself in the mirror. It was tight in all the right places, hugging your curves and accentuating your figure. You weren’t even going to lie, you felt fucking amazing.

You could hear Marshall out in the living room, probably pacing back and forth, anxious to see you. The anticipation was almost suffocating, but in a good way.

When you finally opened the bedroom door, his eyes immediately locked on you. He was sitting on the couch, leaning back with his elbows propped up on the arms, but when he saw you in that lingerie, he froze. His mouth parted in shock for a second, and his eyes traveled over every inch of you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, hoarse, like he was struggling to form the words. "You are a fucking masterpiece."

You walked toward him slowly, swaying your hips, loving the way his gaze followed every movement. "You like it?" you asked, your voice dripping with confidence, a little playful but still needy.

"Like it?" Marshall snorted, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned forward. "Babe, I don’t just like it, I fucking love it. I can’t wait to fucking tear it off of you."

You laughed, stepping closer to him until you were standing between his legs. "You don’t have to wait much longer, Marshall."

His eyes burned into yours, and you could feel the heat rising between the two of you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, his breath heavy against your neck. "I swear to God, you’re gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, his hands moving up to grip your back, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

"Yeah?" you teased, your voice soft as you let your fingers graze through his hair. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Shit," he cursed, his hands slipping down to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was already, and you bit your lip, your heart racing. "You’re fucking mine," he growled. "God, I can’t wait to make you mine forever. I’m gonna marry you, you know that?"

You gasped a little, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. You’d known it was coming, but hearing him say it, so raw and real, hit you harder than you expected.

"You keep saying that," you said, trying to hide the emotion that was creeping up on you. "You keep telling me how much you want to marry me."

"Because I fucking do," Marshall said, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked you dead in the eyes. "You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want to wake up next to you every fucking day for the rest of my life."

You felt your heart swell, your breath catching in your throat. It was rare for Marshall to get this vulnerable, but when he did, it made everything feel so much more real.

"You mean everything to me, baby," he continued, his voice soft but intense, "and I’m not going anywhere. I want to marry you and fucking spoil you. I wanna do all the shit I never thought I’d do, just to see you smile. You deserve all of it."

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. "I love you," you whispered, your hands trembling slightly as you slid them down to his chest.

"I fucking love you too," he murmured back, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. "And when I’m done with you tonight, you’re gonna know exactly how much."

Extra:

Marshall’s hands roamed over your body, every touch sending sparks through you as you kissed each other harder. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. When he pulled away, he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You know,” he murmured, voice thick, “we should have kids. Yeah, seriously. You’d look fucking amazing pregnant.” He smirked, his hands moving down to your waist. “I can already picture it. Your tits getting all full of milk, your body getting even more plump. Shit, you’d be even sexier as a mother.”

You couldn’t even respond, your mind too clouded by desire. His words only made your pulse race faster, and you could barely focus on anything other than how badly you wanted him. Your body was already overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but let him continue, caught in the heat of the moment.

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